A Little Help from Above

by Saralee Rosenberg

  Chapter Twenty-nine

  Shelby hoped that the turbulence and the subsequent nausea that caused her to spend a fair amount of the flight in the lavatory was not an indication of what the rest of the trip would be like. She so wanted for the week with Matty’s family to go well, and for Matty not to have any regrets that he had changed his mind about bringing her home.

  She was dying to ask what had caused him to reconsider. And come to think of it, why he assumed she would still be hanging around the airport after he got on board (even if it was true). But once they were airborne, Matty’s spirits soared like the plane, and she saw no point in spoiling his good mood by rehashing the earlier events of the day. Besides, who had time for Q&A? Shelby was too busy running to the lavatory. Matty was too busy doting on her.

  There also wasn’t much free time once they arrived, as he had planned a week of nonstop action. Welcome home parties, dinners with old friends, golf outings, and a visit to his beloved tennis coach, who was dying of cancer. And as often as possible he took his sister Wendy’s four kids to the park. Shelby marveled at how wonderful he was with children, even when they were clinging to his every limb screaming, “Swing me, Uncle Matt. No me first!”

  Luckily, not every moment was spent with a crowd. Against his mother’s objections, Matty booked a suite in a swank downtown hotel. There he and Shelby could continue what they began in the Lazarus guesthouse, with apologies to Lauren and the seasick twins. But by the end of the week, the poor guy was hinting that they needed to cut back on their lovemaking.

  “What are you? Eighteen?” he teased.

  “No, I just thought it would be fun to make up for every year we missed.”

  “Yes, but not all in one week!”

  “You never could keep up with me.” She patted his butt.

  “True. But it’s not just that, Shelby,” he said in a serious tone. “You have to understand how strange this is for me. I was with Gwen for a long time, and now suddenly it’s like I got traded to a different team.”

  “I understand. But at least now we’re on the same team.” She kissed his neck. “So let’s play ball. Do you remember how I like my pitches?”

  “Low and inside?” He unbuttoned her shirt.

  “Exactly.” She slowly unzipped his pants. “Are you sure you’re not too tired?”

  “Actually, I’ve never felt more alive.”

  On their last night in town, Carol McCreigh invited Matthew and Shelby over for an intimate send-off dinner with Wendy and her husband, Stephen. More than once the proud mother toasted the couple’s bright future. “May you two never be apart again.” She raised her glass.

  Shelby was thrilled that Carol was in her corner. Other mothers might have encouraged their sons to lie in the bed they made, particularly when a sick child was involved. But that didn’t seem to faze her. To the contrary, Carol seemed positively relieved to have Shelby back in Matthew’s life. Maybe because she had a guilty conscience all these years for letting her ex-husband talk her into moving, which kept the close friends apart.

  Or maybe not.

  “You know what I always wondered?” Wendy asked after she filled everyone’s coffee cups. “You guys were crazy about each other. Almost inseparable. But after we moved you never talked again. What happened? Why didn’t you stay in touch?”

  “Funny you should ask.” Shelby looked over at Matthew. “I’ve always wondered the same thing myself. How come you never wrote to me?”

  “What are you talking about? I wrote you all the time. There were some weeks I wrote you every day. You were the one who never bothered to write back.”

  “Are you serious?” Shelby replied. “Right after you moved, I wrote to you almost every single day and then never heard from you. It was like you decided what’s the point in staying friends if we don’t live on the same block anymore?”

  “Why would I think that? I was absolutely miserable. You were the only person in the world I wanted to talk to. But when I never heard from you, I thought you decided who needs Matty? If I can’t play at his house anymore, what good is he?”

  “Wait a minute,” Wendy sat down. “You both say you wrote to each other, but neither of you ever received any of the letters? How is that possible? I could see if maybe the post office lost one or two letters, but all of them? It makes no sense.”

  “You really wrote to me?” Shelby asked him.

  “Yes, of course. And you wrote to me?”

  “Not letters, volumes. In fact I remember this one day I made three trips to the mailbox because I had to tell you all about the awful family that bought your house. They had these two prissy little girls, Vanessa and Veronica, who’d call me every day to come over and play dolls. And I’d say, ‘Play dolls? I haven’t done that since I was four’!”

  “This is so strange.” Matty shook his head. “You have no idea how pissed I was at you for blowing me off. Remember, Mother? I’d keep asking you, Why isn’t Shelby writing me back? And you’d say, ‘out of sight, out of mind,’ or ‘I guess she’s busy with her other friends.’”

  “Other friends?” Shelby laughed. “What other friends? Matty was the only one who could put up with me.”

  An eerie silence filled the room. The enormity of the revelation was staggering. If these supposed letters had been received by the young lovebirds, the two might have stayed close and eventually reunited. Certainly they would never have let so many years go by without any contact.

  “When you got older did you ever look for me?” Shelby asked.

  “I thought about you a lot, but so many years had gone by already I couldn’t imagine why you’d want to hear from me. And what was I supposed to say? Hi, remember me? Back in the sixties I was your neighbor in Manhasset?”

  “Amazing! And I did nothing but try to find you! When I traveled on business, the first thing I’d do in the hotel room is look up any Liebermans in the phonebook. I did searches on the Internet. Once I paid a private investigator to track you down. And then a few months ago I ran into Stacy Rothstein at Waldbaum’s, and the first thing I asked was if she knew anyone who might still be in touch with you.”

  “Really?” Wendy said. “I can’t believe you thought about him after all these years?”

  “But wait. This one’s the best.” Shelby smiled. “My Aunt Roz got something in the mail about a thirtieth nursery school reunion, and I almost registered just to see if Matty showed up.”

  “Temple Judea’s nursery school had a reunion?” He laughed. “Gee. If I’d known, I would have gone just to see if Melinda Abrams still liked lifting her dress in front of me.”

  Everyone but Shelby laughed.

  “Relax,” he stroked her cheek. “It was a joke.”

  “I’m sorry. I feel bad that you never tried to find me. But at least you named your dog after me. That’s something.”

  “Not exactly.” He winced. “Emily loved watching the old Lassie reruns, so when we got her a dog, we got a collie named Lassie, which she had trouble pronouncing. It came out Lazzie instead. After a while we shortened it to Laz, and the name always reminded me of you.”

  “Ah-ha.”

  It was during this next dry spell in the already strange conversation that a rather unnerving thought occurred to Shelby. The normally gregarious, outspoken Carol had not said so much as a single word since this topic of conversation started. Nor would she look Shelby in the eye.

  Oh God! Did Carol know anything about those letters? Shelby tried signaling Matty to look at his mother’s pained expression, but he was too lost in thought. It would be up to her to follow her instincts.

  “Isn’t this whole thing strange, Carol?” Shelby cleared her throat. “Neither of us ever getting a single letter?”

  Carol looked up. Her face was red and swollen.

  “Are you crying, Mother?” Matthew asked.

  She dabbed her eyes with a napkin and stood up. “Please excuse me for a minute. Wendy, do me a favor, hun. Go turn off the coffeepot.”


  “Sure.” Wendy leaned over and whispered to Matthew. “What’s with her…Should I put the cake away, too, Mom?”

  “Yes, thanks.”

  “Let me help clear the dishes,” Shelby offered.

  “No. Sit.” Carol said. “Both of you.” She turned to Matthew. “I’ll be right back.”

  When Shelby had returned home after the accident and sifted through the remains of her bedroom, she’d been saddened to discover that the essence of her young life had been reduced to three cartons and an A&S shopping bag. But never could she have imagined that the entire history of her long-distance friendship with Matty would be crammed into a shoe box that was kept inside of an old steamer trunk, which got stored in a dusty attic in a small two-story cape in Portland, Oregon. Carol McCreigh handed the box to her son. “I am truly sorry.”

  Shelby, a former Nancy Drew aficionado, knew before he ripped off the first piece of masking tape that the contents of the box would solve the mystery of the missing letters. What she didn’t understand was why.

  “Oh my God,” Matthew cried out. “I don’t believe this.” He sorted through piles of unopened mail addressed to him, all with Manhasset postmarks dated January 1970. February. March. Each envelope had Shelby’s signature red, S.W.A.K. seal, which had been hot stamped on the back. And there, underneath her letters, were his. Dozens of letters addressed to Shelby with large block lettering.

  “How many of these did you save?” Shelby could barely breathe.

  “Every last one.” Carol sighed.

  “But why, Mother? Why would you sabotage us like that? You knew how much our friendship meant to us.”

  “I…it wasn’t…believe me…” she sputtered.

  “I’m in shock,” Shelby cried. “You purposely tried to come between us?”

  “It’s not what you think, dear.”

  “I don’t know what to think. All that time we were pouring out our little hearts out to each other and…”

  “It wasn’t my idea. I didn’t want to do it,” Carol exclaimed. “But I made a promise.”

  “To whom?” Matthew and Shelby asked at the same time.

  “To your mother, dear.” She reached for Shelby’s hand.

  “My mother? There’s no way! She adored Matty.”

  “Yes, but she had her reasons.” Carol looked down. “It’s a long story.”

  No one moved.

  “However I say this, it’s going to come out wrong,” she said, waving her hands. “It doesn’t make much sense now. I’m not even sure it made sense then. But Sandy made me promise on a stack of Bibles to keep you two apart. What was I supposed to do? It was the last wish of a dying woman.”

  “I don’t understand,” Shelby whispered. “What possible reason could she have had?”

  “She was trying to protect you, dear. She knew that after she died you were going to feel totally abandoned. And then with us moving away so soon after, she told me she was afraid you might never recover. You were such a loner she thought you’d only try to lean on Matthew and not move on. I’m not saying I agreed with her, but I knew she was just trying to do right by you.”

  “I don’t know what to say. I can’t believe she actually made you promise not to give Matty my letters.”

  “Or to mail any of the ones he wrote to you.”

  “That’s the stupidest thing I ever heard,” Matthew exclaimed. “If your kid is in pain, you don’t make it worse by keeping her away from the one person who can help.”

  “Oh believe me, I argued with her plenty,” Carol said. “But, Shelby, you know what I’m talking about. If she made up her mind about something, you couldn’t budge her for all the tea in China.”

  “Yes, but she had to know I would be crushed if I didn’t have Matty to talk to.”

  “But you were kids, darling. We thought you’d eventually forget about each other.”

  Shelby took a deep breath. “When did she talk to you about all this?”

  “A few weeks before she died. She had just come home from the hospital, and I came over to visit. It was awful. She was just lying there so pale and weak, groaning in pain.”

  Shelby cried at the recollection of those vivid images. The small, listless body. The nearly bald head. The faint voice. She had forgotten that other people might remember this last stage, too.

  “I swear,” Carol continued, “she practically made me put it in writing that I would carry out this request, and what was I supposed to say to her? ‘No? I think this is ridiculous?’ But she kept insisting that this was what was best for both our kids, and finally I gave in. I gave her my word.”

  Matthew shook his head. “I can maybe understand Sandy not wanting Shelby’s letters to get to me. But why stop my letters from getting to her?”

  “Because eventually you would have asked her why she wasn’t writing back, and then she’d wonder what was going on and pick up the phone, and say, ‘what letters?’ Besides, the more I thought about it, the more I was okay with the idea. You were going through hell, your father and I were broke, fighting. It was a nightmare. So who needed you telling Shelby how bad everything was, and then having her blab it to the neighborhood that we were in trouble?”

  “I still can’t get over it.” Matthew rifled through the box again. “Every letter that I wrote you never mailed? Every letter that she wrote, you never gave me?”

  “Yes.”

  “But you saved them after all these years.” Shelby sniffed. “Why?”

  “Why does anyone save anything, dear? You just never know.”

  “Any regrets?” Matthew sighed.

  “Regrets?” Carol looked at her son and Shelby holding hands, clinging to each for dear life, just as they had as kids. “I don’t know. Who’s to say what would have been? What’s that expression? Sometimes you have to go around the world to go around the block? Maybe this was all bashert. Exactly how things were supposed to work out.”

  I know what you’re thinking, and I couldn’t agree more. It was a terrible idea trying to keep the kids apart. Certainly not one of my prouder moments as a mother. But didn’t Carol do a great job of presenting my side of the story? What a good lady she is, defending me like that. Especially after I couldn’t be bothered with her when we were neighbors. My loss.

  Anyway, what’s important now is that Shelby and Matty are together and happy. And maybe I can stop running around putting ideas in people’s heads. Like that innocent question I had Wendy ask over coffee. I knew if she brought up the subject, Carol would gladly confess. The only reason she saved those letters all these years was that she hoped she’d be given the chance to return them one day. And God answered her prayers.

  Actually, God answered mine, too.

  It was a quiet, contemplative flight home. This time both Matty and Shelby felt nauseous, having nothing to do with turbulence or pregnancy. It would take a long time to recover from their twisted fate and the knowledge that their own mothers had conspired against them.

  And yet they also knew it was their common bond. Both had spent their childhoods in the throes of turmoil and confusion. Both had been forced to grow up long before they were ready. And both had spent their lives struggling to understand a deep, unexplainable void that permeated their core.

  “I guess Warner is right,” Shelby explained. “It’s all karma, baby. Learn the lesson, get the reward. Then destiny takes over, and you end up where you were supposed to be in the first place.”

  Suddenly Matthew understood. Their “chance” meeting on the highway might not have been chance at all. Destiny might have separated them, but it could also bring them together. And in light of that revelation, for the first time in years, his path was illuminated.

  “I want us to live together,” he proposed to Shelby over a tray of rubber chicken.

  “I want us to live together, too. But where? You need to be in Westchester to be close to Emily, and I need to be in Manhasset because of Lauren and the babies.”

  “I know, but I might have a gr
eat compromise. I have a friend who’s been trying to sublet her co-op on Madison and Eighty-fourth. It’s a beautiful building. It’s one block from Central Park and the Met. And it’s halfway between Westchester and Long Island!”

  “That sounds incredible,” Shelby clapped. “Plus it’s a quick cab ride to the office for me. You’re a genius.”

  “No. Desperate.” He kissed her hand. “I so want this to work. But before we go ahead with our plans, I want to get Larry and Roz’s permission.”

  “Whatever for?” Shelby protested. “I’m a big girl. In fact a very big girl.” She looked down at her enormous belly. “We don’t need their approval.”

  “Fine. Then we’ll ask for their blessing. I just need to know they accept me and my unusual circumstances.”

  “Are you crazy?” She laughed. “Given my circumstances, they would pay you to get me off their hands. Besides, you know how much they’ve always loved you.”

  Shelby was right, of course. When she and Matty drove over to the Transitions Center for Rehabilitation, they welcomed him with open arms.

  “When the time is right, I promise I’ll make her an honest woman.” He hugged Larry.

  “Is that a marriage proposal?” Shelby jumped into his arms.

  “Not yet.” He laughed. “Is she always in such a rush?” he asked his future father-in-law.

  “Since the day she was born.” Larry slapped him on the back.

  “Anyway, my top priorities are to find a brilliant divorce attorney, and to do something I’ve been thinking about for years. I want to legally change my name back to Lieberman.”

  “Fantastic!” Larry laughed. “Because with that schnozola, you sure didn’t look like a McCarthy or McGillicutty, or whatever the hell your name is now.”

  “I love the idea, too.” Shelby clapped. “Then my initials would stay the same and I could keep all my monogrammed towels.”

  “That was my first thought, too.” Matty laughed. “Saving money on towels.”

  Once Shelby and Matty figured out all the logistics and made arrangements to sublet the apartment in the city, Shelby hoped everything else would fall into place. Particularly with the babies. Now in her second trimester, if she wasn’t feeling hot and tired, she was complaining about swollen ankles, indigestion, frequent trips to the bathroom, looking like a small baboon, and suffering through those humiliating visits to Dr. Kessler’s office. “You’d think the Messiah was coming every time I had a weight gain!”