Kindred Spirits (31 page)

Then they got in the water and floated on their backs, their bare feet touching as they formed a three-petaled flower. “One Love,” Lynne’s favorite Bob Marley song, filled the air.

“You know what?” Beth said. “We’re not failures.”

“Failures?” Mary Kay said. “What made you say that? Because we didn’t find Julia?”

“We came close,” Carol said. “Closer than anyone.”

“No, it’s not that. The blue martinis brought back memories of the night you toasted to friendship and failures.”

“Because that’s what DeeDee’s entry said. The blue martini turns strangers into friends and makes triumphs out of failures,” Mary Kay said. “I was just fooling around after a meeting where I felt like such a loser mother.”

Beth swam over to the edge of the pool and took another sip of her drink. “You forgot the ‘therefore.’ The exact line was ‘Turns strangers into friends and, therefore, failures into triumphs.’ That ‘therefore’ makes all the difference.” A glass in each hand, she frog-kicked out to the middle of the pool and handed them to Mary Kay and Carol. “We triumphed
because
we are friends, get it?”

Carol said slowly, “Maybe. Though I’m pretty sure DeeDee was talking about how to save a dull cocktail party.”

Mary Kay laughed and Beth playfully tweaked her button nose.

“Look at it this way,” Mary Kay said. “If we hadn’t become friends, I’d have raised Tiffany without any advice or help or babysitting from you guys. You became my family and you saved my ass.”

Carol kissed her on the cheek. “You’re my family too. I ran to you when my marriage fell apart and now, when I wonder if I made a mistake, I’m back again like bad breath.”

Mary Kay slid an arm over her bare wet shoulders. “Glad to hear you say that, Carol. We’re here for you, still. You know that, right?”

Carol nodded.

“Think of Lynne,” Beth said. “She wrote in her letter if it hadn’t been for us, she never would have been able to deal with cancer as bravely as she did. Mary Kay drove her back and forth to her appointments and I tried to keep her house neat and keep her fed. But I never did learn what you did for her, Carol, besides buying the Swedish divan.”

Before Carol could shut her up, Mary Kay said, “She paid for all her outstanding medical bills.”

Carol blushed. “Not
all
of them. Only the ones that her insurance didn’t cover.”

Beth was flabbergasted. “You’re kidding! That must have been huge. Thousands of dollars.”

“It was what it was,” Carol said dismissively. “It’s not worth getting into.”

Nonsense. It was further proof that without their support, each of their lives would have been harder and lonelier. A mound of medical bills was the last hassle Lynne should have had to face in her dying days.

Beth gazed into the blue at the bottom of her glass, realizing there wasn’t that much she could do about scraping up the money for David’s tuition or repairing her father’s heart, just as, despite her most valiant efforts, she hadn’t been able to cure Lynne.

But no matter what happened, she fully trusted that Mary Kay and Carol would be there for her if things got tough. Lynne, too, in a way.

For death might take a woman in the prime of her life, might rob two sons of their mother and a husband of a wife, but it could never sever a friendship.

Friends were forever. They were the ultimate triumph over failure.

DeeDee was right.

T
he wind and rain from the night before left an awful mess on Don Miller’s yard. Snapped twigs and leaves littered his driveway, defeating a weekend of raking and bagging. Winter was on its way, he thought grimly as he unlocked the front door and prepared himself for a blast of arctic air.

He sniffed. Snow. His heart broke.

It would be his first winter without Grace in forty-eight years. Forty-eight years of standing by the window, watching the first fluttery white flakes fall and melt on the ground. Forty-eight years of making fires and winterizing the house together, of putting up storm windows and taping the cracks. He’d worried how she’d be able to handle the climbing and lifting after he was gone, never imagining she’d be the first to go. It didn’t make sense. Grace religiously walked three miles a day and counted out her omega-3 capsules. He had an irregular heartbeat and saw a doctor once in a blue moon.

He turned up his collar and trudged down the driveway to get the morning paper. But when he reached into his mailbox, his hand landed on something else. A long envelope addressed:
To My Lovely Baby Girl, Julia.

He stood there a long time in the cold, turning that letter over and over in his hand, debating whether to rip it open and read it before chucking it in the trash. At last, he folded it and tucked it into the inside pocket of his coat. Then he went inside to read the morning paper and drink his coffee, alone.

Beth rummaged through her purse and Carol adjusted herself in the backseat, preparing for the three-hour drive home. They might be able to make it to Marshfield by noon, thereby giving her all day to sort through the stuff Jeff had left in the house, if Mary Kay could get a move on.

Carol lifted the lid of her soy latte and blew on the coffee. “Where is she?”

“Mary Kay? I don’t know.” Beth removed her wallet, phone, pens. “She came to my room earlier, asking for the keys to my car so she could get some Pepto-Bismol. Apparently, last night’s orgy of appetizers didn’t sit well.” Beth flattened a receipt and tossed it aside. “What do you think’s going on with her?”

“Nerves.” Carol took a bite of her blueberry scone. “Tonight she tells Drake she can’t marry him.”

Beth quit rummaging and looked up. “Are you serious? I thought she changed her mind.”

“She took off her engagement ring right before the accident and then didn’t put it back on.”

“That’s too bad.” Beth went back to searching. “I wish she’d tell us what’s wrong. Maybe we could help.”

Carol changed the subject. “What
are
you looking for?”

“You’re not going to believe it. Lynne’s letter. I think I lost it in the car.”

“The one to Julia?” Carol checked under the seat. “When did you see it last?”

“I
thought
I saw it last night when we went to the Millers’. It was right there on top of my wallet so I could find it easily. But this morning it was gone. I just hope it didn’t fall out when we were leaving his house.” She bit a nail. “With the rain last night it’ll be ruined.”

They should have made a photocopy, a thought that had crossed Carol’s mind when she was in New York. Like all wise ideas, she’d promptly forgotten it.

The back hatch flew open and Mary Kay stuffed in her cooler and bag. “Sorry. I had an errand to run and then I came back and took a shower. Thanks for letting me borrow your car, Beth.”

Beth cheerfully offered Mary Kay the other coffee and remaining scone. “No problem. Did you find what you needed?”

“Uh-huh.” She gestured to the mess on the front seat. “What’s this about?”

“I was looking for Lynne’s letter to Julia. I had it just . . .”

“I put it in Don Miller’s mailbox this morning. That’s why I needed the car.” Mary Kay held up her hand in playful defensiveness. “Don’t kill me. I just thought he should have it since that’s the only way it’ll find its way to Alice.”

It was a risk, but the women agreed. The letter wouldn’t further Lynne’s cause by gathering dust with her wedding dress and pearls.

Carol’s cell rang in the depths of her bag as Beth merged onto I-84.
Jeff
, she hoped before immediately chiding herself for being so foolish. She should be hoping for Scott’s call, and yet, she’d barely thought about him all weekend.

Nope, Amanda. Finally, she had caught her daughter’s attention. Though Mary Kay and Beth would have been fine with her taking the call, she let it go to voice mail, where Amanda left a message.

When was the last time Amanda had asked her to call? Not since the divorce, certainly.

Twenty minutes after nine, when she was fairly confident Amanda would be in class, Carol called her back and, sure enough, was sent to voice mail again.

“I can’t believe we keep missing each other,” Carol said. “The painting for the elementary school is a brilliant idea. Lynne would love it. I’m not crazy. Every woman’s got to let loose now and then, don’t you think?

“By the way, I’ll be at the house this evening to go over some knickknacks your father put aside in preparation for selling the house. If you want anything, now’s the time to say so. I know you’re busy, but I’d hate to throw away something of yours with sentimental value like your American Girl dolls.”

Amanda couldn’t part with her American Girl dolls, Carol thought, ending her message and wondering about the ethics of keeping sweet plastic Felicity Merriman hostage for her daughter’s affection.

One hour later, Amanda called again. And again Carol didn’t answer.

Fifteen minutes later, Carol called back.

“Great. I’ll remind Dad to leave the spare key under the planter for you. Don’t worry if you can’t take everything back. We’ll ship it.” Then: “Love you.”

They had crossed the border of New York when Amanda left the message Carol had been waiting for.

Carol called back right away. “The place on Sixth Street it is. And you’re not a snot. I am. We’ll talk. Love you back.”

She hung up and Beth whipped around. “OK, this is driving me nuts. She calls and you don’t answer. Then you call her right back and she doesn’t answer. Back and forth. Back and forth. What’s going on?”

“We’re having a voice mail conversation. One without dramatic pauses or sighs. I’m not getting angry and she’s not taking offense.” Carol smiled. “It fits our style.”

Beth was doubtful. “How long do you think you can keep this up?”

“I don’t know. I’m just grateful we’ve come this far.”

They headed down Freedom Plains Road across New York State, past mowed fields and wooded lots, houses and farms, until they reached Marshfield. It was a little after three in the afternoon and their trip had finally come to an end with some, but not total, success.

“I can’t believe it’s over.” Beth dropped the keys into her lap after pulling into Mary Kay’s driveway. “We started only four days ago and it seems like an eternity. I don’t feel like the same person.”

“Maybe you’re not the same person,” Mary Kay teased. “Maybe you’re Marilyn Monroe.”

“You know what I mean. Think of what we’ve done. We’ve knocked on the doors of strangers and learned secrets about Lynne that not even her husband knows. We even met the man who adopted her baby.”

“We met the love of her life,” Carol said, “or so Douglass would have us believe.”