Authors: Debbie Macomber
Between Friends (21 page)
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 e-mails. 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 Web sites.
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.
| 374 | Debbie Macomber |
| *** | |
| Jillian Gordon |
| From: | [email protected] |
| To: | [email protected] |
| 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, grand-kids 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 1983, 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 e-mail 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 passed 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 e-mails 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 break-up with Paul.
Will could meet someone else. For that matter, I could too. Mother said there are advantages and disadvantages to long-distance 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: | [email protected] |
| To: | [email protected] |
| 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?
Lesley
***
Lesley Milton From: [email protected] To: [email protected] Sent: July 26, 2000 Subject: Your visit
Dearest Lesley,
I’ll be happy to visit Washington, D.C. if you want, but I’ll skip the Vietnam Memorial this go-round.
We had quite a scare. Remember I told you that Leni Jo met a wonderful young man (a colleague in England)? He came over here to visit her. Originally he’d planned to catch the Concorde out of Paris. The very one that crashed and killed everyone onboard. Thank God he decided to book another flight!
This man is the one. I had that feeling the moment I first saw my daughter and William together. My guess is they’ll be married within a year. I haven’t seen Leni Jo this happy in a very long time.
She’s so calm about it, so like Monty. William is well aware of what a joy she is. I hate the thought of her moving to London, but I suspect that’s the way it’ll have to be if they do get married.
Everything about this relationship feels right.
Jillian
***
Riverside Clinic
258 West 81st St.
New York, NY 10024
Dr. Louise Novack, Oncologist
August 11, 2000
Dear Jillian Gordon,
The blood work from your most recent check-up is in. Please make an appointment with Dr. Novack at your earliest convenience. We look forward to seeing you soon.
Sincerely,
Pat Terrney, R.N.
***
Lesley Milton From: [email protected] To: [email protected] Sent: August 25, 2000 Subject: Your visit!!!!!
Lesley,
I’ve had a change of heart about visiting the Vietnam War Memorial. You’re absolutely right (savor the moment!). It’s time I faced the Wall.
I can’t wait for you to get here. We’re going to have a fabulous time.
See you the first week of October.
Love,
Jillian
***
September 19, 2000
Good Morning, Mom!
The coffee’s on and I’m leaving for work early this morning. Did you hear Will and me on the phone last night? I couldn’t believe he’d pay the big bucks to call when it’s so easy to e-mail. But he had something to ask me and he didn’t want to do it over the computer. I’ll bet you can guess.
Mom, Will asked me to marry him and I told him yes. Then I got teary-eyed because I wished so badly that I could be with him. His visit in July seems like a lifetime ago. We want to be together and the sooner the better.
Neither Will nor I wants a long engagement, and we both prefer a small wedding. I hope that doesn’t disappoint you. Now, here’s the second part. We’d like to be married in London. Will’s family is much larger than mine and it only makes sense that you and I travel to London instead of asking his parents, twin sister and brother to trek all the way to New York. We can have a reception here afterward, if you want. I didn’t want to wake you to discuss it, so I made an executive decision and agreed. I didn’t think you’d mind.
I was so happy and excited after we talked that I couldn’t sleep. When Paul and I broke up I thought I’d never want anything more to do with men. You said I would and you were, of course, right. Oh, Mom, I’m so in love. Will is a wonderful, wonderful man and I’m crazy about him.
Call me once you’re up. Shall we celebrate tonight and have dinner out? I think we should.
Love,
Leni Jo
Jillian’s Journal
October 15, 2000
I saw Lesley off early this morning and only now have time to reflect on her visit. With my dearest friend here and Leni Jo bustling about planning her wedding, I’ve barely had a moment to myself. Everything seemed to be happening at once. Leni Jo glows with happiness, and just being around her, I get caught up in her excitement and joy. Lesley is thrilled for her, too.
The highlight of her visit was our trip to Washington,
D.C. I’d dreaded seeing the Vietnam War Memorial;I’ve avoided it for years. I was sure the emotion would be too much, that it would overwhelm me and break through all my hard-won contentment, my resignation. And the minute I found Nick’s name engraved in the Wall, that’s exactly what happened.
I’m thankful Lesley was with me. We hugged and wept together. When I found the strength, I placed my fingertips against Nick’s name. At the same time, I saw my own reflection in the black marble. Actually and metaphorically, emotionally and spiritually, he was part of me. In all the years he’s been dead, I’ve never felt his presence this profoundly—even more strongly than the day I had that near-death experience. I felt a sense of peace. I held my head high, proud to have loved Nicholas Patrick Murphy, proud of the sacrifice he made. The politics of the Vietnam War are forgotten, pondered only by historians, but the men and women who died there will continue to live in our hearts.
Visiting the Wall changed me. I wish now that I’d gone years ago. I remember Brad Lincoln’s letter after his visit to the Vietnam Memorial; unfortunately I couldn’t find it. As I recall, he’d had a very similar reaction. The Wall certainly focuses one’s thoughts—on death and on life. The brave and honorable men who are commemorated here will remain forever young, forever loved and forever remembered.
Lesley knows. I’ve never been able to keep a secret from her. We weren’t together a day and she asked me about the breast cancer. It’s back, more virulent than ever. With her, I could reveal my fears. For Leni Jo and Gary, I’ve put on a brave front, but this is my second confrontation with the ravening beast and I’m feeling uncertain. Dr. Novack wants to do a second surgery, followed once again by chemotherapy and radiation. Just when I’d grown accustomed to my full head of gray hair, it appears I’m going to lose it.
I want to live, but if I should lose this battle, then so be it. At least I’ll die knowing my daughter is happy and settled. I know my son-in-law will look after Leni Jo.
I’ve told no one else, certainly not my daughter or Gary. I insisted Lesley keep my secret. With the wedding less than a month away, the last thing Leni Jo needs to hear is this. We’ll both be forced to face it soon enough. I’m certainly in no rush. I’m doing everything that’s asked of me, taking the medication, dealing with the doctors and the almost constant appointments. I have faith that everything that can be done is being done.
My one complaint is how tired I’ve been lately. I wished I hadn’t told Lesley so soon after her arrival. From that point on, she was worse than a mother, constantly monitoring me, asking how I felt and whether I needed anything. I’m afraid my patience has been in short supply these last few days.
I think Gary has guessed. He’s suggested shorter walks and only three times a week. He insisted his knees were bothering him, but I don’t believe it.
I didn’t mean to be morbid, but I’ve chosen a headstone. Lesley was appalled. I’ve already paid for the plot next to Monty. It made sense to do so when we buried him. I knew then that I would never remarry. I’ve been blessed to love two wonderful men in my life and I wasn’t about to press my luck.
***
William Chadsworth
December 1, 2000
Dear Mom,
I realize it’s somewhat premature to call you Mom, since Leni Jo and I won’t be married until next weekend, but I didn’t think you’d object.
The purpose of this letter is to thank you for raising Leni Jo to become the woman she is. The woman I love. Although we’d worked together for a number of months, she was little more than a name at the bottom of a fax. I knew nothing about her personally, although I’d come to admire her integrity and spirit.
Before I met Leni Jo, I’d despaired of finding a wife. She was like a summer breeze that swept into my life, bringing laughter and wonder and joy. I fell instantly in love with her. To my everlasting gratitude, she feels the same way about me.
My family loves her and like me, is thankful that she’s willing to become one of us.
All of this is a circuitous way of thanking you for Leni Jo. I love her more than I dared believe I could love anyone. When we say our vows, I want you to be assured that I will love and care for her the rest of my life. My commitment to her is complete.
Sincerely,
William Chadsworth
***
Judge Jillian L. Gordon, Retired
Is pleased to announce the marriage
of her daughter
Leni Jo Gordon
To
William Henry Thomas Chadsworth III
On
December 9, 2000
A reception to honor the couple
is being held at
The Water Club
500 East 30th Street
December 30, 2000
At 3 o’clock
rsvp
2001
Jillian’s Journal
January 1, 2001
I wish I knew what’s happened to the last 12 months. I don’t need a calendar as much as a stopwatch these days. The weeks just melt away. In part this is due to how busy I’ve been this past year. First the trip to London with Leni Jo, then this second bout with cancer, which seems to occupy my every moment, all my strength and all my resolve. Even after the first run-in with cancer, I treated my health almost casually. This has been a lesson well learned. If I’m cured—not if, WHEN—I will never again take my health for granted.
Leni Jo is blissfully happy. Will is a marvelous husband and I think nothing of hopping on a flight to visit her for a few days whenever my treatment schedule allows. It’s exhausting but worth it.
I’ve seen more of Lesley this year than in the last five. She was here for my surgery and stayed both before and after. Gary and my dearest friend took turns watching over me. I’m feeling somewhat stronger now, and I’m very encouraged, especially with the new medications I’m on. The chemotherapy is rough and depletes me emotionally as well as physically, but Lesley and Gary have done their best to keep my spirits up.
Gary and I are closer than ever. After Lesley left for home, he took it upon himself to see to my care and comfort. He’s been wonderful and I’m deeply indebted to him. I know he e-mails Leni Jo and Will with regular updates. We continue with our daily walks and have dinner together at least three times a week and sometimes more. He’s my companion and dearest friend— after Lesley, of course. I know he’d like us to marry, but he hasn’t broached the subject in some time and frankly, I’m grateful. I wish I knew why I’m so hesitant. Fear, I guess. I’ve already had two great loves in my life, Nick and then Monty, and lost them both. I don’t think I could endure that kind of emotional agony again. Lesley thinks I’m cheating Gary and myself, and perhaps I am, but I have enough to cope with. I can’t think about marriage right now. Especially now. I don’t know what the future holds, not when I’m living with cancer.
Well, this election mess is finally over, thank God. Within days, George W. Bush will be sworn into the White House. Who would’ve believed this fiasco would drag on for weeks? I only hope this kind of confusion and craziness never occurs again.
I’m growing tired—a constant problem these days—so I’ll cut this short. Gary is taking me for a walk in the Park later and then out to dinner.
Jillian Gordon
| From: | [email protected] |
| To: | [email protected] |
| Sent: | February 28, 2001 |
| Subject: | Earthquake! |
Dearest Jillian,
A quick note to let you know that I’m fine and so are all the kids. The news said the Seattle-area earthquake registered 6.8 on the Richter scale. I can believe it—we were all badly shaken. No pun intended!
Several photographs and pictures fell off the walls and all the drawers in the kitchen opened and stuff spilled onto the floor, but that’s minor compared to the damage in downtown Seattle. Now I know why so few people around here have brick houses. Thankfully, Steven was home and we were together when the quake hit.
I’ll get back to you as soon as I can, but I didn’t want you to worry.
Love,
Lesley
Lesley Milton From: [email protected] To: [email protected] Sent: September 11, 2001 Subject: The events of this morning
Dearest Lesley,
Dear God in heaven, how can this be happening? Terrorists, madness, death and destruction. I hardly know what to write other than to assure you that I’m fine. The phones are useless and there’s no way I can call you and no way you can call me. By some twist of fate, Leni Jo and Will managed to reach me and I’m grateful to have spoken briefly to my daughter. We wept together and were cut off after only a few minutes.
My heart is screaming at the horror that is taking place so close to my home. I cannot believe anything this terrible would happen—not here in New York, not in my town, my neighborhood. Not to us as a nation. I am in shock, in pain and in mourning. I don’t think any American will ever be the same again. How can we be? How will we ever recover from such evil? I have no answers, only questions. Everything that seemed so important only a few days ago is irrelevent now.
I can’t donate blood, but I’ll do whatever I can.
God bless America, the land of the free and the home of the brave.
Jillian
2002
Lesley Milton
| From: | [email protected] |
| To: | [email protected] |
| Sent: | January 15, 2002 |
| Subject: | Sick To Death |
| Lesley, |
I’ve put up as much of a fight as I could, but I’m sick to death of all this and want it to end. My medical team wants me to undergo a third series of treatments. I can’t do it. These last sixteen months have been terrible. The cure is worse than the disease. What can cancer do to me that the physicians haven’t already done? I’ve been poked, pinched, prodded. I’ve endured all I can. Don’t bother to argue with me. It’s too late. I told them “no more.”
Do you remember when Monty asked the doctors to cease all treatment and let him die? I pleaded with him, begged him to change his mind and fight as long as he could. He so rarely denied me anything, but he did that time. He asked to die with dignity. I understand now. How very well I understand.
I can’t do this any longer. I can’t sit in another waiting room, can’t endure another day of this. I can’t tolerate looking at myself emaciated and hairless. I can’t stand the exhaustion or the nausea. I turn 54 today and I feel like 104.
After this last bout, I’m weary of the battle. The white flag is up. This soldier has laid down her weapon and surrender is imminent.
Don’t be angry with me, Les, I’m just sick to death of being sick to death. As always, Gary has been wonderful, but I’m an emotional drain on him and I know it. It’s been sixteen hellish months for both of us. I can’t continue to put him through this—him or me. I want out!
***
Jillian Gordon
| From: | [email protected] |
| To: | [email protected] |
| Sent: | January 15, 2002 |
| Subject: | Happy Birthday!!!! |
Dearest Jillian,
No! I can’t, I won’t let you give up. You’re my dearest and best friend and I refuse to let you die at 54. You of all people know how stubborn I can get.
I should’ve been there before now. I should’ve known. This does it, and Steven agrees. My bags are already packed and Steven is buying me a plane ticket as we speak. I’m flying out tomorrow to be with you and I’m not leaving until you kick me out the door.
Do you remember when we were in Latin class and I just couldn’t seem to get the hang of those verbs? When it came to biology and chemistry, I was a whiz, but Latin was about to do me in. I wanted to give up and accept a C, but you refused to let me. For hours you drilled me, until I knew those verb conjugations as well as my own name. My dear, this is Latin class all over again, only this time I’m the one who’s going to stand by you.
We’re in this together. Cancer might have worn you down, but I’ll be there by your side, my arm around you. This is one monster we’re going to face together! Gary on one side and me on the other. As you said, you’ve been poked, pinched and prodded, and now you’re about to be pampered.
I should’ve come sooner, should have realized you needed me, but I know it now and I’m on my way.
***
Mr. and Mrs. William Chadsworth
112 Waterbury Street
London, England
January 15, 2002
Dearest Mom,
Happy Birthday! Will and I have some wonderful news we’ve been saving for your birthday. We’re going to make you a grandma. That’s right, I’m pregnant. Oh Mom, you can’t imagine how excited Will is. Was Daddy like this when you told him you were pregnant with me? The way Will’s treating me, it’s as though I’m the only woman in the world who’s ever managed such a feat.
The baby is due the last week of August. You’ll be able to come to England, won’t you? I hate it that you’ve been so sick lately. You try to hide how dreadful this time has been, but I can read between the lines.
Will and I hope that your first grandchild will give you something to look forward to.
We both love you very much. Oh Mom, I don’t think I’ve ever been so happy or so in love.
Enjoy your gifts, book your ticket for August now and have a wonderful, wonderful birthday.
Will and Leni Jo
***
JILLIAN LAWTON GORDON
331 WEST END AVENUE
APARTMENT 1020
NEW YORK, NY 10023
Riverside Clinic 258 West 81st St. New York, NY 10024
Attention: Dr. Louise Novack Dear Louise,
A note to apologize for my behavior during my last appointment on December 30th. I hope you can forgive my negative attitude. You’re right, cancer has its positive aspect in all the lessons it can teach us about ourselves.
In the past few weeks I’ve reconsidered and have decided to accept the next bout of treatments. It seems I’m to become a grandmother for the first time—and I have a very stubborn friend who insists on staying by my side. With this kind of incentive and support, I feel I must agree to these treatments.
Thank you for your patience with me.
Sincerely,
Jillian Lawton Gordon
March 1, 2002
Jillian, A note on your pillow to tell you that you’re the bravest person I know. Lesley
***
March 2, 2002
Lesley,
A note on your pillow to let you know you’re the craziest, funniest, most wonderful friend anyone has ever had. I can’t believe you shaved your hair off for me so we could be twins! Are you nuts??! Yes—and I love it. Thank you for being my best friend.
Jillian
***
