Between Friends

by Debbie Macomber

  The boys accepted the news without any open display of emotion. Christopher was so young when we divorced that he barely remembers Buck. David and Doug and Lindy remember him, though. All her life Lindy’s made excuses for her father. All her life she defended him to her brothers and me.

  When she brought me the letter from Buck’s parole officer, her face was expressionless, as if she’d always known it would come to this, in spite of her hope that his life could be salvaged. I’m grateful Jordan was with her when she opened the envelope. She’s going to be all right, I think, and so am I.

  Within a few hours, my daughter will be Jordan’s wife. Steven will fill in as her father. She was the one who made the request that he walk her down the aisle. I know that meant a great deal to him. For a long time, Lindy made it abundantly clear that she never wanted me to remarry. She still held out hope that Buck and I would reconcile. My little girl has done a lot of growing up in the past few years, and I’m very, very proud of her.

  As a matter of interest, Cole Greenberg reported the news of the Timothy McVeigh trial. I don’t think he’ll ever retire. He’s just not the type. I did notice something interesting, however. He’s no longer with CNN. I saw him on the Fox News Channel. I wonder what that’s all about.

  Paul Robbins

  * * *

  From: Leni Jo Gordon

  To: Paul Robbins

  Sent: June 8, 1997

  Subject: Lindy’s Wedding

  Dearest Paul,

  The wedding was so romantic. Lindy was a beautiful bride. My mom had tears in her eyes when Lindy walked down the aisle.

  I can only imagine Mom’s reaction when she hears about you and me. No, I haven’t told her that we plan to get married next year. Not yet. It’d freak her out.

  This being apart is awful. I miss you, too, and I promise to email you every day I’m in Washington State.

  Love,

  Leni Jo

  September 15, 1997

  Dear Mom and Steven,

  Julie and I want to invite you to dinner next week if you’re available. We have a surprise for you both. Mom, it’s time to bring out those knitting needles again. I hope you’re planning on being around in February.

  Love,

  Doug and Julie

  Jillian’s Journal

  November 20, 1997

  Dearest Nick,

  It’s been years since I last wrote you. I gave it up shortly after Monty died, but since my surgery and the dream, I feel closer to you than ever. Each night as I settle my head on the pillow and close my eyes, it’s almost as if you’re there with me. My mind is filled with thoughts of you. The dream keeps playing back in my mind: what you said, what you implied, what you promised. I’ve held on to as much of it as I could.

  I used to be so impatient. That’s been an unexpected benefit of having cancer—I’ve developed a whole new perspective on the meaning of time. Things that seemed terribly important a year ago have faded in significance—and vice versa. I’ve learned that small things matter—the moment of laughter, the beauty of autumn leaves, the sensation of wind on my face. You know what I mean, don’t you?

  I think a lot of people have felt that way since Princess Diana died. The news of her death touched everyone. There’s been an almost unprecedented outpouring of grief, worldwide. It seems as though people needed that collective release of emotion, as though this was more than a response to one individual death.

  The world is vastly different from the one you left behind. Everything happens at the speed of light. The internet is capable of far more than relaying messages. People are online for every conceivable reason. There’s even this site where people can auction items and you wouldn’t believe what’s being sold. War medals (which bothers me and would no doubt upset you, as well), Elvis albums, even Texaco signs from the 50s.

  This year a sheep was cloned and just yesterday a 29-year-old woman gave birth to seven children. Our lives are being affected every day by scientific and technological change, and that is ever constant. Still, the one thing that remains steadfast through everything is love. That’s the message you gave me, isn’t it?

  Leni Jo is head over heels in love and I’m biting my tongue to keep from saying things I shouldn’t. I wanted someone a little more sensible, more stable, than this musician. Paul is very sweet and talented, but he isn’t exactly brimming with ambition.

  Just tonight, Leni Jo phoned to tell me they want to get married. I tried to remain calm, but I’m not sure how successful I was. Thankfully, she promised not to do anything until we’ve had a chance to talk. I’d be a whole lot more comfortable if Paul had a job!

  Then I think about the two of us and how impossible we thought my parents were when we announced our feelings for each other. I told my dad in no uncertain terms how badly I wanted to marry you. Now history’s repeating itself (well, sort of) in my daughter. Amazing, isn’t it, how I’ve been given the opportunity to view this situation from the perspective of a parent? I wonder who said God didn’t have a sense of humor.

  2000

  Jillian’s Journal

  January 1, 2000

  For the first time in years, I stayed up past midnight to celebrate the New Year. Leni Jo insisted I should, and she was right. Like everyone else, I got caught up in all the hoopla surrounding the new millennium.

  Fortunately, the dreaded Y2K bug didn’t turn into the disaster the experts had predicted. If the world’s computers had crashed, some of them would not have been missed—especially the ones having to do with government. I’m beginning to sound cynical, but it’s hard not to, after the last year, during which the entire country was preoccupied with Clinton’s affair. The impeachment process took months and millions of dollars, which could have been better spent. I blame Clinton for that waste. In fact, given his intellectual gifts, I consider much of his time in office a wasted opportunity. Good Republican that my father was, I imagine he’s frothing at the mouth because of the corruption that’s come out of the Clinton presidency. As for me, I’ve lost faith in both parties.

  New Year’s Eve was an incredible experience in New York! Gary, Leni Jo and I had a late dinner, then sheer madness overtook us and we joined the throng in Times Square. I couldn’t believe I agreed to this, but I was just as excited as everyone else. Leni Jo said we’d regret it our entire lives if we didn’t go. Years from now, she wants me to be able to tell my grandchildren I was there to celebrate the big moment, when New York ushered out one millennium and welcomed in the next. How grateful I am that I could spend this New Year’s with my daughter and Gary.

  I will admit that this is a wonderful time to be alive. When I think back over all I’ve seen in my 51 years, I stand amazed. I remember how thrilled my father was about the transistor radio. My great-aunt Jillian crossed the prairie in a covered wagon when she was just an infant, and before she died in the mid-60s, she flew in a jet plane. All of this in one lifetime!

  When Leni Jo and I returned to the apartment, Gary wished us both a good night, and then my daughter and I sat up for another hour, talking. Time for just the two of us is a rarity these days and much to be valued.

  My daughter is content and has been able to put the unhappy events of last year behind her. She loves her job as an assistant curator at Sotheby’s. Leni Jo has always had a deep appreciation of antiques, especially china and porcelain. This position is the perfect blend of history and beauty, of art and business. She has a trip to London scheduled this spring and wants me to tag along. She’ll be meeting an associate in the London office with whom she obviously has a good working relationship. Her job has been a source of strength and pleasure during the turmoil in her personal life this past year.

  Paul broke her heart. It was inevitable. I saw how ill-suited they were early on in the relationship, but Leni Jo had to discover this for herself. Difficult as it is to sit back and watch one’s child suffer, there are certain life lessons that can only be taught by experience. I grieved with her, although I suspecte
d from the beginning that Paul wasn’t the right man for her. Soon, and I believe this with all my heart, she’ll rush home to tell me she’s met someone utterly wonderful who shares her interests and appreciates the woman she is.

  Leni Jo’s relationship with Paul led me to do some soul-searching about my first love. If Nick hadn’t been killed, what would have become of our relationship? I couldn’t help wondering if we would’ve eventually parted, like Leni Jo and Paul. Somehow, I couldn’t make myself believe it. Even now, all these years later, Nick remains with me, a part of me. I love him so intensely that I’ve been unable to visit the Vietnam War Memorial. I just can’t do it. (But I’ve promised myself that one day, I will.)

  I’ll be fifty-two on the 15th. My health is good, with no sign that the cancer is recurring. I get a shock every now and then when I happen to catch my reflection in a mirror. After the chemo, my hair grew in completely gray. Still, I’ve purposely left it that color, as a reminder of everything I’ve experienced. (Actually I think it gives me a dignified appearance!) I’m well aware that I look very much the middle-aged woman I am. Gary likes it and compliments me often.

  Art takes up a good portion of my free time. Despite Leni Jo’s protestations to the contrary, I don’t think I’m particularly talented, but I derive such pleasure from it that the question of my ability is irrelevant.

  My life has fallen into a set pattern. I’m reluctant to call it a routine. I rise early, do my reading and journal-writing. Then Lesley and I exchange emails. I still think of this communication via computer as an updated version of passing notes in class! I’ve come to find this internet thing completely fascinating and often spend one or two hours browsing websites.

  Around ten o’clock, Gary and I take a walk through Central Park. We have our own route, and our own pace. This time is more an excuse to be together, but the exercise is beneficial nonetheless.

  I do volunteer work most afternoons. I’ve been a docent at several museums and right now, I’m mentoring a teenage girl at risk. In the process I’ve learned about facets of this city I never knew.

  Life in New York certainly isn’t dull, but I shall enjoy my trip to London with Leni Jo.

  Jillian Gordon

  * * *

  From: LesleyMilton@friendsnetwrk.com

  To: JillianGordon@friendsnetwrk.com

  Sent: January 1, 2000

  Subject: Happy New Year!!!!!!

  Dearest Jillian,

  Do you remember in high school when we talked about the year 2000? We tried to predict what we’d be like at the turn of the millennium. You thought we’d be wearing our hair in buns, walking with canes and wearing black nun shoes. (Remember those ugly heels that laced up?) At fifteen, that was our view of anyone over age thirty. Are you laughing yet? That isn’t even close to describing either one of us. Without a doubt, this is the best time of my life.

  I’m blissfully happy and madly in love with my husband. When I look back through the years with Buck and then as a single mother, I shake my head in wonderment. Everything I endured, every challenge and difficulty that brought me to this point was worth it. I didn’t realize how miserable I was at the time because it took so much effort just to make it through the day. Everything has changed, and for the better.

  Our New Year’s party with all the kids, grandkids and everyone was hilarious fun. Between my four and Steven’s two daughters we had a full house. At midnight David and the boys lit fireworks. After the show, we closed the evening with a huge catered buffet.

  Frankly, I’m exhausted. I’ll gladly wait another 1000 years for a repeat of this celebration!

  I can’t believe you were in the middle of all that madness in Times Square.

  Today is low-key. Steven and I are both planning naps this afternoon.

  I’ll check in with you later.

  Lesley

  JILLIAN LAWTON GORDON

  331 WEST END AVENUE

  APARTMENT 1020

  NEW YORK, NY 10023

  March 15, 2000

  My dear Nickie Lynn,

  I wanted to get this in the mail before I left for England. I’m joining my daughter there for three weeks of relaxation, fun and shopping.

  Inside the box is a small medal. It’s something very special that I’ve waited all these years to give you. This medallion has a long Murphy family history. It first belonged to your grandmother and she gave it to your uncle Nick before she died. Years later, Nick gave it to me and I wore it around my neck as a reminder of his love. I’d recently left for the East Coast and college, and missed him terribly. He told me that whenever I got lonely I should hold on to it and remember how much he loved me. I didn’t remove it until the Army assigned his tour of duty in Vietnam. That was when I mailed the medal back to him, and asked him to wear it. I prayed his mother’s love and mine would protect him.

  When I learned he’d been killed, my grief was so great that I completely forgot about his mother’s medallion. When I did remember it, I assumed it’d been buried with him. Then in 1989, a friend of Nick’s, a fellow soldier, contacted me. He had the medal. Apparently Nick had asked Brad to return it to me if anything happened to him. For one reason and another, it took Brad twenty-one years to keep his promise. I have worn this medal close to my heart from that day forward.

  At twenty you’re old enough to appreciate its history and its sentimental value. I’m convinced that the grandmother you never knew would want you to have it. I want it to be yours, too. Wear it with pride and my love.

  Your parents gave me one of the greatest honors of my life when they named you after Nick and me. I’ve had the pleasure of watching you grow into an accomplished and beautiful young woman.

  You have your whole life ahead of you. I know how proud your family is that you’ve chosen to become a teacher. Wherever life takes you and whatever you do, remember that you are deeply loved by your parents, by your uncle Nick and by me.

  Jillian Gordon

  Lesley’s Journal

  April 15, 2000

  I can’t believe how much I miss Jillian. Three weeks has never seemed so long. It would help if we’d been able to email the way we planned. I can’t understand why anyone would be so heartless as to infect hundreds of thousands of computers with a virus, especially one that instantly aroused curiosity. Like lots of other people, Steven and I fell prey to the I LOVE YOU virus. Our whole computer system was destroyed, and we still aren’t up and running.

  Jillian will be back in New York tomorrow morning. Judging by the postcard she sent, she’s had a wonderful time. Or so she’d have me believe. I’ve known Jillian nearly her entire life and something isn’t right. I wish I could put my finger on what it is. (My fear, of course, is a return of the cancer, but I refuse to dwell on that possibility.)

  Steven says I should fly out and see for myself, and I think I will. My friend might be able to fool others, even Leni Jo, but she can’t pretend with me.

  Leni Jo’s Journal

  May 3, 2000

  After three weeks away, it’s marvelous to sleep in my own bed. Tired as I am from the flight out of Heathrow, my head is still buzzing. My heart, too. William Chadsworth is the reason. We’ve worked together for fourteen months via fax and computer. The relationship was strictly business. For all I knew, he could have been a sixty-year-old curator. Thankfully he’s not!

  I don’t know what he felt when we first met, but the strangest, most wonderful sensation came over me. This was meant to be a working vacation for Mom and me. I did plan to do some sightseeing and shopping with her, but Will and I ended up spending every spare moment together.

  It’s unsettling to think I could’ve fallen in love on such short acquaintance, but he’s everything I’ve ever wanted in a man. I especially liked the way he treated my mother. I think she’s half in love with him herself! He was so thoughtful and kind to both of us.

  Mom didn’t fool me. Most nights, she pleaded tiredness, so Will and I could spend time alone. Three weeks has never p
assed more quickly. He’s ten years older, but that doesn’t bother me. Dad was fifteen years older than Mom and they had a wonderful marriage.

  I miss Will already, but if the five emails awaiting me once we reached home are any indication, he feels the same way. We both feel it’s necessary to give this attraction a bit of time. Since he’s in London and I’m in New York, that won’t be a problem.

  Our plan is to communicate via the internet and by phone for the next six months, with the occasional visit when we can manage it, and then we’ll see how we feel. That’s the sane, sensible approach. I’m certainly in no rush to become involved again, especially after my breakup with Paul.

  Will could meet someone else. For that matter, I could, too. Mother said there are advantages and disadvantages to longdistance relationships. Just now, I’m painfully aware of the disadvantages.

  He’s already suggested he visit New York in July; that would be perfect. This time the meeting won’t be work-related. I’m counting the days already.

  Mother liked Will immediately and she’s an excellent judge of character. She knew after meeting Paul just once that he wasn’t the man for me and she was so right.

  I’m not the only one having company this year. Aunt Lesley’s booked a flight for the first part of October. Apparently the trip’s a birthday gift from Steven. It will be so good to see her again.

  Jillian Gordon

  * * *

  From: LesleyMilton@friendsnetwrk.com

  To: JillianGordon@friendsnetwrk.com

  Sent: July 25, 2000

  Subject: My visit

  Jillian,

  I’m planning my itinerary. What do you think of visiting Washington, D.C.? I’ve always wanted to see the Smithsonian and the Washington Monument. Are you ready to visit the Vietnam Memorial?