No one was around as she ventured into the dark alley. Silent snowflakes caught a ride on her hair and shoulders, offering quiet comfort.
“Hello?” she called out in small but cheery voice.
The man rose from his huddled position against the wall.
“I, um … I brought you some dinner.” She held out the bag and the coffee cup.
The man stared at her without moving a muscle.
“There’s, um, creamer and sugar in the bag if you don’t like your coffee black.” Lauren held it out closer to him.
The man looked both directions. In one swift movement, he pulled something from his belt and in a gravelly voice ordered, “Gimme your purse.”
“Excuse me?” Lauren couldn’t believe her ears.
She did believe her eyes when the blade of the vagrant’s six-inch knife caught the light from the yellow security lamp.
“Give it to me, now!” he shouted.
Too startled to do anything else, Lauren put down the food and coffee and quickly slipped her purse strap over her shoulder. The man snatched it from her and took off running.
Lauren stood there, dumbfounded. She checked her pocket. Her car keys were still there. At least he couldn’t steal her car, too.
“I’ve been robbed,” she muttered, looking down at the food. “I brought him dinner, and he stole my purse.” Dazed, she made her way back to her car, opened the door, climbed in, locked the doors, and sat there. She held the bag of food in her lap but knew she could never eat any of it. “I can’t believe this.”
Should she call the police? Go tell someone? How would she explain that she had entered the dark alley at night, knowing a questionable character was lurking there, and now she was actually surprised at the outcome. Any police officer would call her foolish.
Forgoing the rest of her errands, Lauren started the car and inched her way home on the slick streets. She shook her head and muttered to herself all the way.
Hawthorne’s eager “meow” as she unlocked her apartment door brought her sweet comfort. She lifted the medium-sized cat and took him with her to the couch where she sat for a long time, stroking his fur and allowing his contented purring to calm her nerves.
It was after eight before she got up and fixed herself a cup of tea. She opened a can of cat food for Hawthorne and said, “At least you won’t turn on me when I offer you some dinner.”
Reaching for the phone, she finally dialed the local police. The officer who took her report was understanding when she described the circumstances. He advised her to cancel all her credit cards right away, close her bank account, and call the DMV on Monday. Then he added in a fatherly tone, “I know you thought you were doing the right thing, miss. I understand your goodwill toward men, being that it’s Christmastime and all. It’s a sad world we live in when a person can’t be neighborly. I only hope this unpleasant experience will serve you well in the future and protect you from an even greater harm.”
“Thank you,” Lauren said. “Good night.”
She hung up and decided to pick up her mail before it became much darker. Her mom had said last week that she was sending Lauren plane tickets so she could come home for Christmas. Tucking Hawthorne under her arm for protection, Lauren scanned the apartment parking lot as she carefully descended the snow covered stairs. The common mailbox was only ten steps from the bottom of her stairs. She had never been afraid of going there at night before. But then, she had never been robbed before, either. Lauren stuck her key in the slot, quickly unlocked her box, extracted a few letters, and hopped through the snow back to her apartment.
She turned on the gas fireplace and curled up with Hawthorne to read her mail. She had received four Christmas cards. One was from her old college roommate, Teri. Lauren opened it, read the few lines scrawled at the bottom, and bit her lower lip. Teri didn’t know about Jeff. She said she was looking forward to coming to Nashville for their February wedding. Teri was older than Lauren, had graduated two years before her, and was doing exactly what Lauren wished she were—teaching in a small town.
Forcing herself to the phone, Lauren looked up Teri’s number and glanced at the clock. It was around dinnertime in Oregon where Teri lived. Lauren began to dial. It was Friday night. Teri hadn’t mentioned dating anyone. All her card said was that she had spent the summer with her sister on Maui. Chances were she would be home.
A strangely deep and froggy voice answered.
“Is Teri there?”
“This is Teri,” the raspy voice said.
“Is Teri Moreno there?”
“It’s me,” the voice barked. “I have laryngitis.”
“Oh, Teri, you sound awful. It’s Lauren. I hope I’m not bothering you.” Lauren hoped she hadn’t gotten Teri out of bed. Had the raspy voice startled Lauren more than it should have because of her bad experience that night in the alley?
“How are you?” Teri said. Her words sounded painful. Lauren decided this would be a quick call.
“Well, actually,” Lauren chose to skip the mugging story and make this a casual conversation, “I’m doing quite well.”
“Good!”
“I received your Christmas card,” Lauren continued. “And I realized I hadn’t talked to you in a long time, so you don’t know what’s happening in my life. I was going to write you, but then I thought it would be easier if I called.”
“Let me guess,” Teri whispered. “You’ve moved up the wedding date.”
Lauren paused before saying, “Actually, Jeff and I broke up. I should have told you sooner, but I didn’t realize until I received your Christmas card that you didn’t know.”
“Oh, Lauren, I’m sorry!” Teri finally said.
Lauren didn’t know if it was the emotional drain from the theft or the memories of Jeff that had slightly thawed when she saw the gazebo today, but she felt all her defenses melt when she heard Teri’s response. “I am, too,” Lauren said in a whisper laced with pain.
Chapter Sixteen
Lauren recovered quickly from her brief display of grief over Jeff. She wrote to KC about her experience with the homeless man but flew to her parents’ home in Victoria, British Columbia, for Christmas before she heard back from KC. She had a wonderful time with her parents and Brad and more than once nearly told them about her correspondence with KC. Each time, something stopped her. What she and KC had was so close, so private, that she wasn’t ready to tell anyone in the event that person might spoil it for her.
When she arrived back in Nashville, four electronic letters were waiting for her. All from KC, all warm and tender. He said he had thought about her on Christmas Eve:
… MY BROTHER WAS MAKING JOKES ABOUT HOW I CARRY MY LAPTOP EVERYWHERE I GO. HE SAID IT WAS MY “SONAR” DEVICE AND THAT I SEND OUT SIGNALS TO RECEIVE A RESPONSE FROM THE MOTHER SHIP. I THOUGHT ABOUT HOW I SEND OUT A MESSAGE, AND YOU ELECTRONICALLY ECHO BACK. IT’S A WONDERFUL THING! YOU CAN’T IMAGINE HOW SOLITARY MY LIFE HAS BECOME. THE LONELY JOURNALIST, SENDING OUT MESSAGES TO OTHER PARTS OF THE WORLD, BUT ONLY ONE—YOURS—RETURNS TO ME, ECHOING MY HEART.
Through the rest of the winter and into the spring, KC and Wren continued to echo each others’ hearts. He seemed to be traveling more, and she was holed up in her apartment nearly every weekend with her homework, reading with Hawthorne on her lap and sipping Irish Breakfast.
In March, KC sent a letter telling Lauren about a devotional book his brother had given him called My Utmost for His Highest by Oswald Chambers. KC referred to the entry for March 22, which was based on a portion of Luke 24:32, “Did not our heart burn within us …?” KC asked Lauren if she could buy the devotional book and tell him what she thought of that entry.
Lauren stopped at the Christian bookstore the next day on her way home from work. Not only did she buy a copy of the book, but she also bought three CDs, a gift book, a Bible study guide, and two novels. With all her studying, she had read little for pleasure. The time had come for an evening in the tub with an inspirational romance nove
l and a new CD.
She read the devotional first that evening. Both the entry for March 22 and the one for that day, March 23. The words hit her right where she had struggled in the past—with controlling her emotions. She had plenty of thoughts to communicate to KC on the topic and wrote him before indulging herself with a bubble bath and one of her new novels.
During the following two weeks they wrote each other every day, always commenting on the devotion for that day from their shared book. It struck Lauren as romantic to know that when she was reading the Scripture for that day, somewhere in the world KC was on the same page, reading the same words. Often their thoughts coincided on the daily reading. Many times one or the other would bring up a new thought, and so they sharpened each other spiritually.
The intense spiritual discussion was broken in April when KC went on a business trip and didn’t e-mail Lauren for nine days. She felt lost without his correspondence and afraid of the level of intensity to which their relationship had risen. She thought it was time to evaluate where they were in their relationship. However, KC didn’t see the need to dissect “them.” So she backed off.
Then, as a wave that has receded returns, cresting higher than the last time, their intimacy began to build during the end of June.
On July 6, Lauren drew up all her courage and wrote:
DEAR KC,
HAPPY ANNIVERSARY, MY DEAR FRIEND! DID YOU KNOW IT WAS A YEAR AGO TODAY THAT MY BROTHER “INTRODUCED” US? CAN YOU BELIEVE IT HAS BEEN A WHOLE YEAR? SO, WHEN DO WE MEET FACE TO FACE? I WANT TO SEE YOUR EYES AND HEAR YOUR VOICE. I WANT TO SLIP MY HAND INTO YOURS.
Lauren reread her words, and something in the pit of her stomach began to churn. Did she truly want to meet him and end the masquerade? So many times she had thought about what it would be like to finally meet. So many times she had written something to that effect in one of her letters, only to erase it before sending the letter. She always ended up deciding it would be better to wait. Wait for what? She wasn’t sure.
Perhaps wait for KC to initiate the meeting. Or for it to somehow just happen.
Whenever she thought about it logically, Lauren found she had no complaints about how nice and slow everything had gone. It gave her time to do some important things. First, she had gotten over Jeff. She still felt twinges of hurt every now and then. But she wasn’t afraid of them. They were only evidence of healing, KC had once written to her. He said scars still tend to pinch even after they’re healed, if they’re pulled the wrong way.
Second, she had finished school. She had filed the final paperwork two weeks ago and was now qualified to teach. However, she wasn’t ready to leave her job at the bank just yet. Not since she had received a raise two months ago. Also, Lauren wasn’t sure she wanted to teach in a public school in the city. She still held to her dream of living in a small town. Her preference would be to teach at a small school. Someday.
And the third reason Lauren was glad her relationship with KC was correspondence only was because she had gained weight. Ten pounds since Christmas and a total of nearly fifteen since Jeff broke up with her last summer. It had been a cold winter, and she had comforted herself by the fire with cookies, sweets, and lots of Irish Breakfast with milk and sugar. Lauren had also spent most of her evenings and weekends studying and had exercised little. She had finally given in and accepted her new shape at the beginning of the summer, forcing herself to buy some clothes that fit, even though she wasn’t happy with her thickened waist.
The worst part was that no one seemed to agree with her that she had gained too much weight. They all, including Brad, said she had been too skinny before. That idea was a struggle for Lauren. She had lost ten pounds when she started to date Jeff and had consciously tried to keep herself thin because she knew that was how he liked her. Now she was more rounded. More average looking.
It was funny, but she had dreamed more than once that she and KC met and she looked the way she used to, with her long blond hair and cinched waist. She never could see his face in her dreams, and she would awaken each time, groping in the darkness, desperate to see his expression. Was he disappointed that she was an average woman with average short blond hair and average features? What always pulled Lauren out of the emotional bog those thoughts sent her into was that she liked herself so much more than she had liked the old Lauren who was always apologizing and feeling like a failure.
Returning her attention to her letter, she went back and deleted the part about meeting and concluded the letter with:
IT’S BEEN A WONDERFUL YEAR. YOU HAVE BEEN A GIFT FROM GOD TO ME.
ALWAYS, WREN
The letter was sent, and Lauren asked Hawthorne if he wanted to go with her to pick up the mail. Hawthorne, who had grown into a fat, sassy plutocrat, stretched on his front haunches and yawned as if to show his disinterest. He had turned into a lazy old house cat and had little desire to venture outside his air-conditioned domain.
Lauren slipped on a pair of sandals and went to the mailbox alone. The summer afternoon sky canopied her in vivid blue. It was hot. Sticky hot. Lauren unlocked her mail box. Inside were two fancy white envelopes sitting side by side. She guessed they were wedding invitations.
One, she surmised, would be from Justin and Amy. They had announced their engagement several months ago in front of the career group at church. Justin said in front of everyone he would always be grateful to Lauren for bringing him and Amy together. Lauren was fine with that. Over the months she had enjoyed the company of both Justin and Amy as friends. They had come over for dinner a few times, and Lauren had even doubled with them once when Justin’s cousin was in town. That turned out to be a mistake. But her friendship with Justin and Amy as a couple was comfortable and important to her.
On her way up the stairs, she opened the first invitation. It was from Justin and Amy, all right. It looked like something Amy would choose: embossed flowers with a pink tinge and a matching pink liner inside the envelope.
The next invitation had a return address of Escondido, California. Lauren slid her fingernail under the seal, wondering who she knew in Escondido, of all places. She couldn’t think of anyone.
Entering the apartment and breathing in the cooled air, she pulled out the simple yet elegant parchment invitation and scanned the script for a familiar name. There it was: Teresa Angelina Raquel Moreno.
“Teri?” Lauren said aloud, dropping into the nearest kitchen chair. Hawthorne came over and rubbed against her leg. “I can’t believe it, Hawthorne. Even my old college roommate is getting married! I talked to her at Christmas, and she didn’t say anything about dating someone.”
Lauren read the invitation again. “Gordon Thomas Allistar. How’s that for a name? Where did she find this guy? What’s happening to me, Hawthorne? All my friends are getting married!”
Jamming the invitations back into their envelopes, Lauren returned to the computer, muttering, “That does it, Hawthorne. I’m going to tell KC it’s time we meet. Put up or shut up, that’s what I’ll say.”
She tapped out a letter which sounded more like an ultimatum than a romantic invitation to a rendezvous, and immediately erased it. Her anniversary letter had been sent. That was enough for one day. She needed to focus her mind on something else.
That was the problem. For so long she had had reading assignments, papers, and exams hanging over her head every evening and weekend. Now she was done, and her free time was filled with too many unscheduled hours.
Turning off the computer, Lauren opened the bottom drawer of her desk and pulled out a white, three-ring binder full of papers. They were all KC’s letters. She had printed them out about three months ago and put them, nice and tidy, in a binder. If Mindy or Brad or her parents ever knew about this, they would think she was nuts. That’s why her secret had remained her secret and probably why it was such a sweet one.
Chapter Seventeen
With her treasured collection of love letters in her lap, Lauren turned to the front page. There she had made long li
sts of what the initials “KC” could possibly stand for. The wildest option was “Kevin Costner” and the quirkiest possibility was “Kamlish Castleman,” a boy who had sat behind her in third grade and had come to the States from Fiji. She remembered his long fingers and the strange foods he used to bring in his lunch.
More likely KC was someone she had never met who had a nice normal name and came from a nice normal family. That’s what she wanted to believe. Desperately, she wanted to believe that.
Lauren turned the pages past the first few letters from KC and stopped at one from late November:
DEAR WREN, I MUST TELL YOU HOW MUCH YOUR CORRESPONDENCE HAS MEANT TO ME. I’VE KEPT MYSELF FROM ANY SERIOUS RELATIONSHIPS FOR QUITE SOME TIME. MY JOB TAKES UP ALL MY ENERGY. HOWEVER, I WANT YOU TO KNOW THAT YOUR LETTERS ARE WHAT I LOOK FOR FIRST WHEN I COME HOME. I ENJOY SPENDING TIME WITH YOU, AS IT WERE.
I APPRECIATED YOUR ADVICE ABOUT VISITING THE HUNTINGTON LIBRARY WHEN I WAS IN SOUTHERN CALIFORNIA LAST WEEK. YOU WERE RIGHT. THE GUTENBERG BIBLE HELD ME CAPTIVE FOR QUITE SOME TIME. MY, HOW FAR WE’VE COME IN PRINTING TECHNOLOGY. YET HAVE WE LOST SOME OF THE BEAUTY OF THE “PREPARED” PAGE? RED DYE FROM BERRIES TO STAIN THE PICTURES ON EACH PAGE, DID YOU SEE THAT? AND IT HAS LASTED FOR CENTURIES. BEING IN THE PRINT MEDIA BUSINESS, I CAN’T HELP BUT WONDER HOW LONG SOME OF MY WORDS WILL LAST.
PEACE, KC
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?