Echoes (17 page)

Lauren turned the pages past the first few letters from KC and stopped at one from late November:

Lauren smiled, thinking that if KC only knew how his words were bound in her notebook and carried around in her mind every day, he would know that his words, at least his words to her, had timeless value.

Skimming a few more letters, Lauren wondered if this could be considered an obsession. Would her friends and family urge her to get counseling if they knew how attached she had become to this nameless, faceless person? Was this the ultimate for Generation X: deeply emotional relationships carried on through electronic impulses that course through the computer rather than the body?

Perhaps the most appealing part was the lack of commitment necessary for such a relationship. This was non-threatening.

None of the irritable mannerisms of the other person came into play. The physical dimension wasn’t even an issue. Everything that happened between Lauren and KC went from heart to heart with no fleshly, physical complications. This was an appealing relationship for a Christian woman who desired to remain pure.

Yet it was so much more intense than anything she had ever experienced with any other man. KC had access to her soul, the place deep within her where she thought and mused and loved God and questioned life. And she had access to his innermost being as well.

How did that happen? It wasn’t simply because they corresponded. Was it the result of the course their communication had taken? The way they conversed about things that mattered the most to them, and on every score discovered commonality? These questions rolled through her mind with no one to discuss them with.

She turned to another letter in her notebook dated February 14, Valentine’s Day. Lauren remembered how she had carefully chosen some lines from Elizabeth Barrett Browning’s
Sonnets of the Portuguese
as her Valentine’s Day “gift” for KC. She had e-mailed his letter the night before so he would be sure to read it on the fourteenth:

His Valentine’s Day response had been as specifically affectionate for her as hers had been for him. She ran her hand over the next page where the printed characters looked as ordinary as any other arrangement of the alphabet, only this was far different. Hope sprang from these words. They were KC’s words, and they had melded themselves into her heart:

From that day on, she had begun to believe that he was hers. Next she turned to the letter he wrote in April after his trip to England when she had waited nine days for his response:

Lauren had written back that she felt comfortable with where things were right then, even though she couldn’t say she had ever felt a special peace or presence of the Lord regarding this. However, she wondered if they needed to spend some time trying to evaluate where they were going and what they should expect from the other.

KC’s one-line response the next day was:

She decided she was smitten. How could she help but fall in love with a man who could quote Robert Browning, Isaiah, and the Beatles with such eloquence?

L
auren didn’t hear back from KC after her July “anniversary” letter for two full days. She came home from work on Tuesday evening, ready for a glass of iced tea and a nap on the couch. Outside, the summer weather was cranking up. Inside, Hawthorne greeted her with a plea for food and a look that said he didn’t know what day of the week it was or what month of the year. He lived in a climate-controlled environment in which all his meals were delivered at the drop of a “meow.” What did he have to worry about?

“You know, you’re costing me money, big boy. My electric bill is going to be gigantic this month. What if I leave the air conditioning off tomorrow and open the window?” She knew she couldn’t do that to the pampered baby.

“You need a life, Hawthorne. I’m going to start taking you for walks. Look how flabby you’re getting.”

“Meow,” said Hawthorne, which meant,
Your threats are always empty ones, my dear
.

“Then I’ll get you a kitten to look after. How would you like that?”

Disinterested in any of her suggestions, Hawthorne stuck up his tail at her as he began to consume his dinner.

Lauren poured herself a tall glass of iced Irish Breakfast tea, which was waiting for her in a pitcher in the refrigerator. She settled in by the computer, delighted to find the number “2” in her e-mail letter box.

She opened Brad’s letter first. He didn’t have much to say. His summer school courses were boring, and he was thinking about going on an outreach to Mexico in August with a bunch of guys from his Sunday school class. He asked her to send him the dates she would be in California for her friend’s wedding.

Lauren replied:

She felt a twinge in her heart, remembering that her wedding date had been set for February 3. Six months ago. So much had happened since. She had changed dramatically. At this moment, Lauren couldn’t imagine herself married to Jeff. How different a person she would have become. Not necessarily bad, just vastly different. She liked who she was now and where her life was going.