Journey Of The Heart. Elissa Ambrose

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      “There’s always time for a personal life. Trust me, I know.”

      Laura didn’t know how Cassie did it, flitting from relationship to relationship without getting involved—or hurt. When it came to men, Cassie claimed she knew exactly what she wanted; the problem was that what she wanted changed from week to week. When it came to business, however, she was as sharp as a razor. Cassie was one of the town’s most successful real estate brokers. Her rise to the top of her field was a result of hard work and shrewd planning, but to Laura it was nothing short of amazing.

      Ellen Gavin, too, amazed Laura. Even as a child, Ellen had known exactly what she wanted to do with her life, letting nothing stand in her way. Years later, it was that same will, that same determination, that had helped save Laura’s life. When Laura first became sick and decided to leave Jake, it was Ellen who had convinced her that life was worth living. Even though Ellen had just become a resident in internal medicine, she was the one who had made sure that Laura had the best team on staff—the oncologist, the anesthesiologist, the surgeon, the chemotherapist. And despite her heavy schedule, it was Ellen who had been there for her day and night throughout the entire ordeal.

      “It was Ellen who introduced me to Edward,” Laura said to Cassie. “She has a lot of friends at the hospital. Maybe if you’re nice to her, she could set you up with someone who just might convince you to settle down. Didn’t your mother always want you to marry a doctor? How about a psychiatrist?”

      “Are you insinuating that I’m not nice, I have bad taste in men and I need therapy?” Feigning indignation, Cassie reached behind her and picked up a throw pillow.

      “No, don’t!” Laura squealed. But it was too late. Feathers were flying everywhere. “I tried to warn you,” she rebuked her friend lightly, “but as usual, you just ignored me.”

      “Did you say something?” Cassie said, and Laura laughed. Cassie rose from the couch. “I guess this means you want me to sweep up. What a mess!”

      “It’s nothing compared to the mess before I cleaned up for the gathering. This place was like a warehouse. Aunt Tess had put everything into boxes and stacked them all in here. It was as if she had known she would be leaving this house.”

      “Spooky,” Cassie said. “Where are the boxes now?”

      “Forget the broom, and come with me.”

      Cassie raised an inquisitive eyebrow, and followed Laura through the archway. “I’d forgotten how dismal this place was,” she said with a shudder. “You should probably renovate before putting it on the market. You could make a tidy profit. What about adding a breakfast nook at the back of the kitchen? And a skylight would do wonders.”

      “I don’t want to spend the time, not to mention money I don’t have. Edward keeps asking when I’m coming home.” She pulled open the door to the pantry off the kitchen. “Voilà!” she sang out.

      The pantry had been intended as a maid’s room when the house was built in the early 1900s. Layers of wallpaper and different markings on the walls indicated that at one time the room might have been used as a den, a guest room or even a sewing room. As a child, Laura would sneak in there to daydream, and in her fantasies, her mother would be sewing something special—a Halloween costume, a new party dress, Laura’s wedding gown….

      Piled up in the middle of the room were dozens of boxes. “You should have seen what I threw out,” Laura said. “There were hundreds of rusty tins on the shelves, and over there—” she pointed to the far wall “—barrels of flour had turned black. I had to disinfect before moving in the boxes. These boxes, by the way, are my next project. I can’t just throw them away without first checking what’s inside.”

      “You sure have your work cut out for you,” Cassie said. “I’ll be glad to help—but not tonight. This puppy is off to bed, and I suggest you do the same. It’s been a long day.”

      Laura turned to her friend and hugged her. “Thanks so much for being here for me, Cass. I don’t know what I would have done without you.”

      “You always say that, but the truth is, you’re the strong one here. You’re the fighter, the survivor.” Laura opened her mouth to protest, but Cassie cut her off with a quick peck on the cheek. “You don’t have to walk me to the door. I’ll let myself out. If I know you as well as I think I do, you won’t call it a night until you’ve gone through every box with a magnifying glass.”

      Sometimes it seemed as if Cassie knew Laura better than Laura knew herself. But on one particular point, Cassie was wrong. Laura was not strong. There were times when she felt she couldn’t go on, times when she didn’t want to go on. Whenever she thought about going through life without having children…

      She waited for the click of the front door before reaching for one of the smaller boxes in the middle of the room. Wrapped in silver cellophane, it was tied with a faded crimson bow. It was one of her own old memory boxes, she realized, one of the many she had not taken with her after she had married Jake and moved into his house. I wanted us to have a fresh start, she thought as she removed the bow.

      She tore away the wrapping and hesitated. Weren’t some memories better left buried? As if taunting her to take that scary trip down memory lane, the box lay there, unadorned on the pantry floor. She took a deep breath and lifted the lid.

      The first thing she pulled out was a snapshot of her and Cassie proudly dressed in full Girl Scout garb, marching down Saw Mill Road in the Veterans’ Day Parade. She smiled. Going down memory lane wasn’t so bad, after all. Next, she picked up a picture of Jake in his gold-tasseled uniform, playing the trumpet. That is, trying to play the trumpet. His cheeks were puffed out, his eyes bulging out of their sockets.

      Then she picked up a photo of Cynthia.

      Cynthia was wearing a white satin gown she had designed and made herself. With its deep décolleté, and a side slit that ended at the hip, it was so risqué that Cynthia’s mother had forbidden her to wear it. But Cynthia had been determined, and what Cyn wanted, Cyn got. The night of the Sweetheart Dance, she told her mother that Jake would be picking her up at Laura’s house. She put on a plain, high-neck dress, then drove over to Laura’s, where the girls spent hours on their makeup and fixing their hair. Laura had always felt awkward next to her chic, lithe friend, but she had to admit, by the time Cynthia had finished working on her, she looked good. In fact, for the first time in her life, Laura felt beautiful. She slipped into her gown, a fairylike creation of dawn-tinted crepe, and twirled around and around, feeling wonderful and weightless.

      Cynthia then wriggled her body into her sleek, tight dress. She was not only sensuous, she was majestic, and wore her confidence like a crown. Laura looked at her with awe. “After you, Your Royal Highness,” she said, curtsying.

      “You’re the one who looks like a princess,” Cynthia said, then added jokingly, “I’ll be watching you tonight, so don’t get any notions about my prince!”

      Laura studied the photo, trying to recall the name of the boy who had taken her to the dance. That night, all she had thought about was that he wasn’t Jake. David? Donald? I guess some things aren’t worth remembering, she thought now with a twinge of regret.

      But there were some things a person couldn’t forget.

      An old pain came hurtling back. Cynthia had told her mother that she’d be spending the night at Laura’s.

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