No Way Back

EPILOGUE

Four months later…

We’re all back together again now. We’re kind of a family again. In a way. Neil, Amy, and I. I know Amy can’t completely forgive me. And I don’t expect her to.

I don’t expect her to until I can forgive myself.

And both will take time.

I did a few TV morning shows, but that’s all calmed down now. Neil is back at Bates. Amy never returned to Spain; she’s back at NYU. I go into the city once a week or so, and we have dinner at some new spot she’s discovered in lower Manhattan. We talk a lot-about her classes, the new yoga class I’ve found. I still haven’t answered her question.

I’m not sure I’ll ever be able to.

Harold and I see each other from time to time. We have coffee in Greenwich. Once I went with him to a street fair there, and he brought along his kids. We’re kind of tied together, he and I. I think one day he’s actually going to ask me out.

And you know, I might just say yes.

I mean, he is kind of cute-in a lawyerly sort of way.

And in a strange way, like I tried to tell Amy, we’re all we have.

I’m back in the house, of course. But I have it up for sale. That’s one decision I’ve made.

From time to time, when I hear someone drive up to the top of the drive, I have this urge to run to the door, sure that it’s Dave coming back from the train. Or from playing golf…

With his crooked, Woody Harrelson smile.

But it’s always only the UPS guy dropping off a package. Or the mailman.

Which is who it was today.

It always hurts a little to walk up there, to the mailbox. Knowing it was there I saw Dave roll out of the car…

So I try and do it quickly, and replace the image with one I like a whole lot better. Like him prancing around after the Giants won the Super Bowl. Or snoozing on the beach in Anguilla while I built a sand castle on his belly. Or the morning that we climbed Masada at sunrise and, reaching into his pocket, he said to me…

“Wendy, I know we’ve both tried this once before, but hell, I think we’re both a little smarter the second time around…”

But today there were only the usual bills and catalogues, and back inside, I went to toss them onto the kitchen island when I noticed something else.

A plain white envelope, sandwiched between a West Elm and a Brookstone catalogue. Stark, handwritten on the front. Addressed to me. No return address.

It was the postal stamp that caught my eye.

Navolato. Mexico.

My heartbeat stopped as if it hit a wall. Oh my God…

I ripped it open eagerly, searching for the letter inside. But there was none.

Only a single photograph. The kind you might take in a booth at a CVS or somewhere. Except this one was taken outside.

It had a beautiful blue sky and dark hills in the background. There was a tree I couldn’t identify, but that I knew had to be a jacaranda.

And in the foreground, as alive as if she were standing before me, was Lauritzia. My heart nearly exploded with joy.

And for the first time I saw that beautiful smile.

And there was someone next to her. A man. Older. His leathery, rough face in a hard, proud smile. His eyes somehow reflected both joy and sadness at the same time.

I knew exactly who he was and how he was with her.

I always knew.

And she was holding something up to the camera-the gold necklace that Roxanne had given her. She held up the little charm at the bottom, held it up as if for me to see.

The butterfly.

For the second chances in life. We all deserve them.

And I started to laugh, partly from joy and partly from sorrow. I started to laugh and shout and then cry, unable to hold it back, my cheeks slick with tears.

Second chances. Hers was to go back home again one day. With her father.

Mine was to regain the trust of my kids.

We’d both found them, I said. We did.

I sat down at the counter and stared at her dark eyes and that beautiful smile that could finally, unrestrainedly shine.

Then I ran to the phone and called Harold.