by Jaime Maddox
“Who makes a better banana split? Farrell’s or the Treat?” Jeannie demanded as she paced her bedroom floor. The Treat was Mr. Farrell’s main competition.
Sandy was out on her deck, reading a novel, trying to occupy and calm her mind and recover from the emotional storm of the day before. She looked up into the clear blue sky and smiled at the question.
“Farrell’s, definitely. But don’t get it upside down, ’cuz you get cheated on the portion of ice cream.” Sandy chuckled as she remembered her first job, at Farrell’s. She didn’t tell Jeannie that both places were now gone.
“What’s the best pizza in Nanticoke?”
“Stuccio’s.” Mr. Stuccio had made great pizza, and they spent many Friday nights in his shop with their friends, eating pizza and drinking Cokes and listening to music on the jukebox.
“Which is—without question—the best Beatles song ever?” They’d listened to every Beatles song ever recorded, but there was one that had been their song.
Sandy didn’t simply answer the question. She sang it. “‘I wanna hold your hand.’”
After another pause in the conversation Jeannie finally answered. “So, it is you,” she whispered at last.
“It’s me, all right.” Sandy’s voice was just as soft as Jeannie’s when she replied.
Jeannie didn’t say anything immediately, but Sandy heard her clearing her throat. She cleared her own, then wiped her tear-streaked face.
“Please excuse me,” Jeannie asked. “I’m just in a little bit of shock here. I thought you were dead.”
“What a coincidence.” Although sarcasm might have been warranted, there was none in Sandy’s voice. She didn’t want to be angry or bitter about what had happened so long ago. She just wanted today. And perhaps tomorrow.
“So what do we do now?” Jeannie asked.
Sandy laughed. “You still get right to the point, huh?”
“Always. And besides, don’t you think we’ve wasted enough time?”
Sandy laughed softly, running a hand through her short hair. “You’re right. How about breakfast tomorrow?”
Jeannie sighed. “Sandy, honestly, I don’t think I can wait that long to see you.”
Sandy laughed. She’d just glanced at her watch, wondering how she’d be able to pass twenty more hours before she could see Jeannie again. “I have some cold beer in the fridge. I could make you lunch.”
“Right now?” Jeannie asked, sounding panicky. As anxious as she was to see Sandy, the thought was simultaneously terrifying.
“No hurry, Jeannie. Whenever you’re ready, I’ll be here.”
“I’m ready, I’m ready! I’m coming right now. Hold on.” She ran from her bedroom to the kitchen and picked up her purse, then onto the deck where she rushed right by her son without issuing an explation for her sudden departure.
“Do you want to call me back?” Sandy asked.
“No, no, no!” Jeannie exclaimed. “Give me your address. I’ll put it into my GPS.”
Sandy heard a car engine start and she relayed the information. “Okay, I found it. The computer says you’re thirty-five miles and fifty-three minutes away. Oh, hold on…”
Sandy could hear Jeannie speaking to someone else. “I’m meeting Sandy. Parker. I don’t know when I’ll be back. I’ll call you, Bobby. Love you.
“That was my son,” Jeannie explained, then she laughed. “I got so excited I forgot to tell him I was leaving!”
“Is that Bobby?” Sandy asked.
“Yes, that was Bobby. And I have a daughter, too. Sandy. I named her after you.”
Sandy couldn’t believe what was happening at this moment. That she was talking on the phone with Jeannie. That Jeannie was coming to meet her. That Jeannie was alive. That she’d named her daughter after her. She stopped pacing her deck and sat on the stairs.
“Wow, that’s quite an honor. I hope she hasn’t turned out too badly?” Sandy had always loved to tease her.
Jeannie laughed. “She’s wonderful, but I’m sort of prejudiced.”
Sandy asked questions and they spent the next few minutes talking about Jeannie’s children. After listening to Jeannie’s descriptions, Sandy had to agree that they sounded like great kids. It wasn’t her two offspring that piqued Sandy’s curiosity, though. It was their father. From the moment she had left that second message for Bobby, Sandy had been holding her breath, waiting and hoping for some news from Jeannie. She could tell herself that all she wanted was to see her again, to be friends again, but the truth was that she still loved Jeannie and would always want more than friendship. And while she was a fierce competitor on the playing field and in the boardroom, Sandy was much more demure in matters of the heart. That phone call had taken every ounce of her courage, and she hoped the risk she took would be rewarded. She needed to know if Jeannie was free.
“What about their father?” Sandy asked, tentatively.
“Urgh!” Jeannie groaned. “His name is Bob. He’s an orthopedic surgeon. What else can I tell you about him? He’s a jerk. I left him ten years ago.”
Sandy laughed at Jeannie’s declaration. “I guess I don’t know what to say, except are you happy? Is life good?”
Jeannie grew quiet for a moment before answering. “For almost thirty years I’ve filled my life with my children, and they’ve brought me tremendous joy. Now they’re all grown up, though, and I’m not sure if they need me anymore. It’s awful.”
Sandy could relate. She shared her recent concerns about crowding Angie and Tom as they welcomed their son into the world.
“So you have a daughter, too? That’s wonderful.”
“It is. She is. But back to you…do I have to call you ‘Doctor’?”
Jeannie roared. “Yes, you do. Just once. I’d like to hear you say it one time.”
“Okay, Doc, you got it. So what’s that like? What kind of medicine do you practice?”
Jeannie talked a little about her job at the clinic, and Sandy asked thoughtful questions. It was a far different world from the one where her grandfather practiced medicine out of two rooms on the side of their house. Finally exhausting that topic, Jeannie changed the subject. “Enough about me! What about you? Is there a Mr. Parker?”
Sandy gasped, then chuckled. “Oh, my God, no. There used to be a Mrs. Parker, but she died a few years ago. Breast cancer.”
“Oh, Sandy, I’m so sorry.” Sandy could hear the compassion in Jeannie’s voice and she thought of how lucky her patients were. Jeannie always had a big heart, and Sandy could tell from their conversation that she still did.
“Well, thank you. The wounds are healing. I’ve started dating again.”
“Anyone special?”
“I’m having lunch with the most beautiful woman I’ve ever known.”
Jeannie cleared her throat before she spoke again. “Sandy Parker, you flirt.”
“Should I take that back?”
“Absolutely not! Do you drive a black Mercedes SUV?”
“Huh? Yes. How’d you know that?”
“I’m here.”
It was hard to imagine that thirty-five miles and fifty-three minutes had passed so quickly, but as long as they’d been friends they’d managed to pass the time without ever growing bored. Sandy was happy to know that hadn’t changed.
Sandy stood, wishing for a moment she’d changed her clothes and brushed her hair, but it hadn’t occurred to her. She’d been totally preoccupied with Jeannie. Just like always. She surveyed the stone-washed blue T-shirt and white golf shorts she wore and hoped she looked presentable. The shirt suited her eyes, and the shorts fit nicely, although they were a bit wrinkled after the hour she’d spent in the hammock. It was as good as it was going to get, she supposed, so she summoned her courage again and took the first step toward Jeannie. Sandy rounded the deck at the back of her cabin just as Jeannie was stepping from her Jeep, and she stopped dead. The hand holding her phone dropped to her side and she thought her legs would collapse next. They didn’t, though. Th
ey moved again, bringing her closer to her Jeannie.
Their eyes met from fifty feet away, and Sandy’s heart pounded as they silently approached each other. They’d talked nonstop for almost an hour, and now they were both speechless. Sandy could see the young girl Jeannie had been in the face of the woman she had become. Her hair was the same dark color, now streaked with red highlights and cut shoulder-length. As she moved toward her, Sandy noticed a slight limp, but it didn’t seem to slow her down. When they were close enough to touch, finally, tentative smiles formed at the corners of both of their mouths. They stopped, each staring at the other.
Then wordlessly, Sandy opened her arms, and Jeannie’s smile widened as she stepped into her embrace. Hearts pounding, they both shed silent tears as they held each other. Then Sandy pulled her head back to look at Jeannie and gently wiped a tear away with her thumb. She looked into the speckled green eyes she’d always loved, at the woman she still loved, and then kissed her gently, chastely. When she pulled back to look at Jeannie, there was a twinkle in her blue eyes. “Now, where were we?”
About the Author
Jaime Maddox grew up on the banks of the Susquehanna River and still makes her home in Northeastern Pennsylvania, where she shares space with a beautiful woman, two little boys, and a furry white dog. Agnes is her first novel, but certainly not her last.
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