away from each other and had to conduct our entire relationship over the phone. When you say you have to go, she says OK and then talks for another half hour.
“OK,” she says. “Good luck. I’m here for you. Is Sam okay? How’s he doing?”
“Sam is . . .” I don’t know how to finish the sentence and I don’t have time to. “I don’t know. I really have to go,” I say. “Thank you for calling. I don’t know how I would do this without you.”
“I’m here anytime, you know that,” Olive says. “If there is anything I can do, please let me know.”
“I will,” I say. “I promise. All right, I’ll talk to you soon.”
“Talk to you soon. Are you and Sam definitely going through with the wedding? I mean, at this point everything is up in the air, right?”
“Olive!” I say, losing my patience.
“Sorry,” she says, realizing what she’s doing. “I’m being such an Olive right now.”
I laugh. “You kind of are,” I say.
“OK, I’m going. I love you. I’m here for you. I won’t even ask how Sophie and Ava are because I know you don’t have time.”
“Great. Thank you. I love you. Good-bye.”
“Bye.”
When she hangs up the phone, I realize how alone I am. For a moment, I thought the problem was just that I needed to get Olive off the phone. Now, I remember what the real challenge is.
I get out of my car. Francine waves as she sees me.
I wave back and start walking over to them.
Francine is wearing a fitted burgundy dress with a navy peacoat. Her wavy dark brown hair just grazes her shoulders.
She hugs me, firmly and passionately, as if she’s missed me all these years. I pull away from her just as Joe puts his arms around me. He looks like he’s dressed for church. Gray slacks, light blue button-down, navy blue blazer. I notice that he has started losing his hair. His face has low valleys in places that used to be plains.
“Hi, sweetheart,” he says to me.
“Emma,” Francine says, putting a scarf around her neck. “It’s like a breath of fresh air to see you.”
“Thanks,” I say back to her. “You, too.” I don’t know what to call her. When I was a teenager, I called her “Mrs. Lerner.” When I was married to her son, I called her “Franny.”
“Look at your hair!” she says, moving her hand toward my short hair but not actually touching it. “It’s so different.”
I am stronger than when I knew them. I stand straighter. I am more patient. I hold fewer grudges. I am more thankful for what I have, less resentful for what I don’t. I am less restless. I read a lot more books. I play the piano. I’m engaged.
But, of course, she can’t see all that.
The only change she can see is my short, blond hair.
“It’s very gamine.”
“Thanks,” I say back as if I am confident this is a compliment but, by the way Francine says it, I’m not.
“How are you?” she says.
“Um,” I say. “Good. You?”
“Us, too,” she says. “Us, too. The Lord works in mysterious ways but I am stunned, humbled really, at what a gift today is.”
Jesse wasn’t raised with any religious instruction and in high school I once heard Francine say she didn’t “care what you think God wants” to a proselytizing Mormon who rang their doorbell. Now I’m wondering if that’s changed. If losing Jesse made her a born-again Christian and if getting him back serves as all the proof she needs that she’s on the right track.
Joe looks at me briefly and then looks away. I can’t tell what he’s thinking. But he appears to be much more conflicted about everything. Francine seems to think that life is going to be perfect again, just as soon as Jesse gets off that plane. But I think Joe understands that everything is going to be a lot more complex.
“All right,” Francine says. “Shall we head in there? I can’t believe he lands soon. Look at this, the three of us on our way to see our boy.”
She pulls out her phone and checks it.
“Looks like Chris, Tricia, and the boys will be here with Danny and Marlene in a minute.”
I knew Chris and Tricia had kids not because anyone told me but because I saw Tricia in T.J. Maxx last year, many months pregnant with a toddler at her side.
I don’t actually know who Marlene is. I can only assume she’s Danny’s girlfriend, fiancée,