Friends Forever (27 page)

“My mother treated me. I was depressed after Billy, and worried sick about you. And I was going out with a really boring guy. My mother talked me into dumping everything and going on a trip. It was the best thing I’ve ever done. How are you?” She was so happy to see him, she couldn’t stop talking. His eyes were sunken and dark, and he was very thin under the beard, but he looked great to her. He was alive.

“What happened to the boring guy?”

“I dumped him before I went to Argentina. And I’m thinking about going to Japan this spring. You’re not the only one who can travel around the world, you know,” she said, as they sat down in her kitchen, and she poured them each a cup of coffee.

“I wasn’t exactly taking tango lessons,” he said drily. “You’re looking good, Iz.” He was pleased to see her so happy. He had worried about her for the past nine months. And he missed talking to her. But he was doing important work.

“How long are you here for?” Izzie asked him as they drank the coffee.

“A week or two. I’m going back in January.” She looked disappointed when he said it, but that was his life now. A week with his family, and almost a year underground.

“Undercover again?” He nodded. They had had some excellent results from his work in Colombia. Now they were sending him somewhere new that was even more dangerous than the last location, but he didn’t tell her.

“It’s what I do,” he said quietly, and took a sip of the steaming coffee.

“It’s hard on your parents,” she said bluntly.

“I know. But they’re good about it.”

“They don’t need to lose another son, Sean,” she said seriously, but he knew it. He could see that both his parents had aged while he was gone. Losing Kevin, and worrying about him, had taken a toll on them both.

“I know,” Sean said, looking guilty. “When can I take you to dinner? Will I have to deal with an angry boyfriend?” She looked so pretty and so happy that he was sure there was someone in her life.

“No, I’m single,” she said easily. “I’m free tonight.”

“I’ll pick you up at seven,” he said, and then he got up to leave. He looked down at her for a long moment and then pulled her into his arms and hugged her tight. “I missed you, Iz. I hated not being able to call you.”

“Yeah, me too,” she said quietly, but this was how he wanted to live, with no contact with any of the people he cared about, so he could fight a holy war. It didn’t seem worth it to her. But it was a choice he had made with his life, at a very, very high price for him and everyone else, even her. He had been part of her sense of hopelessness last spring. She had been sure she would never see him alive again. And she very nearly hadn’t, but he couldn’t tell her that. It had been a very delicate operation that had nearly gone wrong several times. And then they got him out, just in time.

After he left, she thought about him for a while. She hated his working for the FBI. There were so many things they could have done together, if he had been around. But that wasn’t the way he had opted to live, with a home, and a family nearby, a relationship, friends, and a life. He wanted to fight the drug wars for the FBI. It sounded much too dangerous to her. And she was happy, for his mother’s sake and everyone else’s, that he had come home alive. She knew it couldn’t have been easy though, and he suddenly seemed much older than his years. No one would have guessed that he and Izzie were the same age. He looked a dozen years older than she did now, more like thirty-five or -six.

She saw him as many times as was possible and he was willing while he was home. Just like old times. And he had other obligations too, to his family. He drove over to Berkeley and took Brian out and had lunch with him. He took Izzie to dinner several times. They went to their favorite restaurants, for hamburgers and pizza. And once he took her to a fancy French restaurant. He acted like his money was burning a hole in his pocket. But he hadn’t been able to spend any of it all year, and he was well paid for his undercover missions, with “danger pay” to compensate him for the risks he took. He was happy to spend it on Izzie.

He had Christmas with his family, and stayed until almost New Year, and then he had to leave again, and he came to say goodbye to Izzie. He didn’t justify his leaving or apologize for it this time. He had already told her that he was leaving for a year, and she was angry at him. She said it wasn’t fair to his parents.

He hugged her, and neither of them said anything. There was nothing to say. They both knew that he would spend the next year in constant danger, fighting for his survival, trying to outsmart drug dealers, and trying to glean information for his country. He lived in a permanent state of warfare. The drug money was used to buy arms and finance terrorists.

“Be careful,” she whispered to him. “And try to come back alive.”

“I’m too smart to let them kill me,” he said, smiling at her.

“And too damn cocky for your own good,” she said, and then he left her. He hurried down the stairs of her apartment, and back out to the street. She was watching him from the window, as he waved at her, got in his car, and drove away. And as he always did, he texted her from the airport. He told her again to take care, and she knew she wouldn’t hear from him for a year, or maybe longer. She hated the way he had chosen to live, but she also knew that it was what Sean had always wanted. And if he died there, it was what he would have wanted too, fighting for a cause he believed in. But if he died, Izzie knew it would cost her, and his friends and family, far too much. He was willing to sacrifice them all, and time with them, for what he believed in.

She tried not to let it depress her when he left this time. It was how he was always going to live. He was somebody she was only going to see once in a blue moon now, and they’d catch up on what they’d each been doing, and then he’d disappear for another year, trying to stay alive. And meanwhile the rest of the world would go on without him, and so would she.

She went to a New Year’s Eve party, given by a woman she’d met at UCLA, who had just moved to San Francisco. Izzie didn’t usually like going out on New Year’s Eve, but she didn’t want to sit home brooding either. The anniversary of Billy’s death had just passed, Sean had gone back under cover and had disappeared, and Andy was stuck in Cambridge, learning to become a doctor. She had no one else to spend New Year’s Eve with, so she went to the party.

And she met him almost as soon as she walked through the door. He was the best-looking man she’d ever seen, and he turned with a broad smile the moment he saw her. His name was Tony Harrow, he was a film producer from L.A., and he said he was making a movie in San Francisco.

“And what do you do?” he asked her with considerable interest, handing her a glass of champagne. She had worn a short white satin dress and high-heeled silver sandals. Most of the guests were outside on the balcony, smoking and drinking and laughing. But Tony sat down on the couch with her inside—he said he wanted her to himself.

“I’m a kindergarten teacher,” she said, smiling brightly, sure that he would find her intensely boring. But he didn’t.

“And what made you do that?”

“I couldn’t figure out what else to be when I grew up. I’m still trying to figure it out.”

“So am I,” he said, laughing. He was wearing an expensive suit, and an open white shirt, and his well-polished black shoes looked expensive. And she knew he had made several extremely successful movies. “Maybe you could help me find an apartment. I’m looking for something furnished, for a year, with a view.” He looked around at the pretty apartment on Russian Hill. “Like this one. Maybe we can just get our friend to move out and give it to me.” They both laughed at the suggestion. “Where do you live?”

“In a mouse-sized apartment near the school where I work.”

“How convenient.” He seemed fascinated by everything she said, no matter how inane. And he was very charming, as well as good-looking. She was flattered that he was speaking to her at all. She never met men like him in her world. Their mutual friend had gone to film school, and had worked for him for two years.

“Would you like to go to the Napa Valley with me tomorrow?” he asked her, and Izzie was so startled, she didn’t know what to say. But he looked at her so intently that she nodded. At midnight he was still sitting with her. He handed her another glass of champagne, and then he leaned over and kissed her lightly on the lips. He barely touched her, which seemed very seductive to her. He was very smooth.

They left each other, and she drove home at one o’clock in the morning. She hadn’t spoken to anyone else at the party, and he told her he would pick her up at ten o’clock the next day. And then he had brushed her lips again in the same subtle way, which was incredibly appealing. He was so pleasant, intelligent, and good-looking that he was almost too good to be true. Maybe she had imagined him. But he showed up as promised the next day, at ten o’clock, looking handsome and casual in jeans and a well-cut blazer. He had dark hair and salt and pepper at his temples. She had guessed him for thirty-five, and he told her he was thirty-nine as they drove to Napa. He was sixteen years older than she was, and seemed very sophisticated by her usual standards, but she liked it. It reminded her of Jennifer and her father, who were seventeen years apart. Maybe there was something to being with an older man. He was the first man that much older that she’d ever gone out with, and it was a nice change from boys her own age.

Tony took her to two wineries that were very beautiful, and drove her through the Napa Valley, under handsome old trees that lined the road. Then he took her to the Auberge du Soleil, a hotel and restaurant perched on a hill with a breathtaking view of the valley, with its rolling hills and meticulous vineyards. They ate lunch on a balcony, and when they left that afternoon, Izzie was enthralled. He was interesting to talk to, fun to be with, considerate and thoughtful, and they drove part of the way home with the top down on his convertible, on picturesque back roads.

He told her about the film business and the new movie he was producing. He said he had never been married, but had had several long relationships.

“Why do you think you never married?” she asked him, aware that it was a somewhat intrusive question, but she felt surprisingly comfortable with him by the end of the day. He seemed like a very open person, and had been very free in talking about himself and some of the mistakes he’d made in his business and personal life. He wasn’t arrogant or pompous, and she liked that about him, in spite of his obvious success in his industry. He had done very well.

“Scared, I guess,” he said honestly. “A lot of things. I was having too much fun when I got out of college, then I got too busy building up my business. I was always putting together the next movie. I’m fairly obsessive about my work,” he said honestly, “and then you get those kickers in life, those blows to the gut that make you decide to play it safe. I was very much in love with a girl when I was in college, my childhood sweetheart. We were sure we were going to get married—in fact I bought a ring and was about to ask her, when she died in a head-on collision. She was driving down to L.A. to meet me when she got killed. It was raining, and her car skidded out of control. I didn’t think I’d survive it, but I did. I don’t think I ever put my heart out there like that again. I was too afraid to get hurt. I keep just enough distance to avoid any future pain. Maybe you only love like that once in your lifetime, when you’re very young.” He smiled at her as he said it, and what he had shared resonated with her, more than he knew.

She took a breath before she said anything to him, but she was comfortable with it. “I lost two good friends in the last five years, people I grew up with. Not anyone I was in love with, but it kind of had the same effect on me. I feel like I’ve kept everything at a distance, because I didn’t want anything to ever hurt that much again.”

“Love is messy,” Tony said quietly. “I think if you really love someone, even a friend, you can’t avoid the pain. People die, people leave, things change. But sometimes,” he said, smiling at her, “it all works. I’ve just never had the guts to try it seriously again.”

“I think I kind of sealed myself off too. I’m not very close to my mother, but I had dinner with her last year, and she kind of woke me up. She said I was letting life pass me by, and it was never going to get any better than it is right now. Because of that, I took a trip to Argentina last summer, and I’m thinking of going to Japan sometime this year. Just getting out of my own little world changed everything. I feel alive again. I think part of me died when my best friends in the world died. It’s hard to risk caring that much again.”

“It is,” he agreed, as he got back on the highway, and they drove through Marin. “But it’s worth it, Izzie. Take it from me. It’s been eighteen years since that girl died, and life has never been quite the same. I’ve watched a lot of my friends get married and have kids, and I know it’s not for me. I’ll probably never take that risk. But you’re young enough to do it differently. I’m not sure I am.” It seemed sad to her, but at least he knew himself. It felt like he’d been put on her path to give her a warning. And somewhere in her heart of hearts, she knew she didn’t want to be like him. She wasn’t Marilyn, or Connie, or Judy, she hadn’t lost a child. Or even a love, like Tony. She had lost friends. It was different. She couldn’t shut everyone out, or stop taking risks in her life, because of it. He was right, he was a good lesson to her.

And as much as he seemed to be enjoying his life, she felt sorry for him. If he couldn’t let himself love someone, he wasn’t fully alive. She wasn’t sure she was either. She had never been in love in her entire life. But she was young enough to change it. At thirty-nine, it was going to be a lot harder for him to open up again, especially after being hermetically sealed for eighteen years. But he was nice to go out with. She had had a very good time. And when he drove up to her apartment, he asked when he could see her again.

“Do you like the ballet?” he asked her, with a wide, easy smile.

“I’ve only been to two in my life.
The Nutcracker
and
Swan Lake
.” But she had liked them both. Tony was a man of the world. No one she knew would have invited her to the ballet, although she knew Andy’s parents went regularly, but it would never have occurred to anyone to invite her. The boys she dated went out for hamburgers and pizza, and to movies, not to the ballet. It sounded very adult to her.