“Oh, Liz, I’m so glad,” said Jen. Impulsively, she squeezed her friend’s hand.

“We’ve got to find time.”

“No, Jennifer. We’ve got to make time. Laziness is out! My mother said it takes effort. ‘Don’t stand on ceremony. Pick up the phone,’” she always told me.

“She’s never heard of email?” asked Matt. “Texting’s even better.”

“She had plenty to say about that, too! Nothing replaces a phone call or a real visit. So your idea is perfect, Doug. We’ll be here.”

Jen watched the couple walk away and chat with others. Tears stung her eyes, which surprised her.

“Jenny! What’s wrong?”

She shook her head. “Nothing. Nothing. I’m just an idiot.” And now he’d have questions. The guy was totally tuned into her.

“You won’t lose Lizzy, sweetheart. You heard her.”

“I know. It’s just…” Well maybe he deserved the truth. “I’m not Liz.” She could barely get the words out.

“And?” he replied softly, his tone neutral.

She glanced up. “Tuned in” was barely the right expression. He was laser-focused on her. “I admire her attitude. She’s brave to go so far away. Despite everything, I-I still don’t think I could do it,” she whispered, as tears threatened once more. And if she couldn’t, she’d disappoint him again.

In an instant, he stood next to her. “C’mon.” He pulled her up and held her close.

“No one’s forcing you, Jen. I’m certainly not. And think about this: if that

confession is upsetting you… you’ve actually opened yourself to possibilities.”

Had she? For a long time, the idea of leaving her family had been a closed door.

She’d slammed it shut and thrown away the key. Until Doug had come back.

Until she’d opened up her eyes to those around her, like Liz and Matt. She’d hidden her head when other co-workers had relocated, but she couldn’t hide this time. Liz was a real friend. So was the rest of her Friday night crew. “I guess nothing stays the same,” she admitted, “and that gives me a stomachache.”

“I know.”

“Are you a shrink in disguise?” she asked, suddenly suspicious, and suddenly recalling that he’d minored in psychology. “Sometimes I think you know me better than I know myself.”

He cocked his head, and a tiny smile emerged. But all he said was, “Don’t give me too much credit, Jenny. You’re not as unique as you might imagine.

Everyone gets uptight when changes hit them.”

“And then?”

He nodded at the couple approaching the mic. Matt and Liz. “And then, I guess, you sing.”

She’d been singing all her life, all types of music. But it hadn’t made her a braver person. In fact, it provided cover, keeping her too busy to think.

The opening notes started, familiar and perfect, from the Beatles—and perfect for the couple facing a new adventure—who sang about getting by with a little help from their friends.

Jen took it all in while swirling in a whirlpool of emotion—sadness, joy, regret, anger, disappointment. Her friends had found what she had lost.

Not lost, she corrected herself. What she had rejected.

She studied the man who’d been the boy she’d loved. The man who still set her heart racing, the man who seemed to have the patience of Job, at least with her.

But he was also a man determined to fulfill his goals and ambitions. A man who wasn’t afraid of anything, not even of taking another chance on her.

She closed her eyes, wishing she felt stronger, wishing she could talk to her mom. Lucky Liz.

“If my mom were still here, we wouldn’t be in this situation. If my folks were still around…”

“We might not have met,” interrupted Doug. “Stop torturing yourself and move on.”

She stared at him, wide-eyed. “That sounded fierce.”

“It’s time, Jen. It’s time.”

If he only knew how much she agreed, how much she wanted to put the past high on that shelf he’d once mentioned. If he only knew how many doubts she had about herself.

But maybe he did. His warm smile reappeared and reassured. “It’ll be all right, Jenny.” He turned toward the stage. “Hey, listen up, Here Comes the Sun!

Perfect.”

Chapter 9

The next morning, Jen hummed the Beatles’ tunes from the party, then changed to Take Me Out to the Ballgame as she flew through her usual weekend chores.

No stranger to household tasks, she was finished by noon and looking forward to enjoying her night out with Doug.

Baseball parks were happy places. So were football stadiums. As soon as someone entered a sports arena, all real-life problems were left outside the gate and forgotten for a while. Tonight would be a delightful interlude where she and Doug could just have fun with the rest of the crowd.

She brought her manicure supplies to the kitchen table just as the phone rang.

Without checking the readout, she answered, “Doug?”

“Sorry.”

“Lisa! Hello, hello. I’m amazed you found five minutes to call. Has Brianna finally stopped the crying jags and is she letting you get some sleep?”

Silence. “I-I’m afraid not. The pediatrician said she’s colicky. She just cries and cries and never sleeps. I massage her, rub her tummy, walk her, hold her and…

and I’m so tired, I could cry myself.”

“Oh, Lis. I knew you had your hands full, but I didn’t know the baby was such a challenge. What does the doctor suggest?”

“Not much. She’ll outgrow it by four months.”