Read Online Sisterchicks in Wooden Shoes! by Robin Jones Gunn - Free Book Online Page A

I’ve written things to you that I wasn’t ready to talk about with anyone else.”
    “It’s been the same for me. Especially in my early married years. I think I’ve always wanted to give you a good impression of me, but at the same time I needed to open up my heart to another woman who understood what I was feeling. Especially an American woman. Does that make sense?”
    “Yes, it makes a lot of sense. I felt that sisterly sort of sharing in our letters. I always have. Our correspondence over the years has probably been better for us than we realized.”
    “You mean as an outlet?”
    “I was thinking more along the lines of therapy.”
    Noelle chuckled. We were heading down a long stretch of flat road with rows of houses on either side.
    “You wrote such fun letters, Summer. I saved almost all of them in a big cookie tin. Someone gave my mom a big tin of shortbread cookies for Christmas one year, and I loved the red plaid on the side of the tin. When I went back to Wyoming for my mom’s funeral, I found the cookie tin in the attic, and I brought it back with me.”
    “I remember your writing an e-mail and telling me that.”
    “I did tell you, didn’t I? You know, sometimes, especially since everything is done so quickly now with e-mail, I forget what I write. I compose e-mails in my head, and then I’m never sure if I sent them. Do you do that?”
    “All the time. I don’t think I forgot that often with letters. Maybe it has something to do with the tactile act of touching thepaper and holding a pen. I don’t know, but I agree with you. I’m forever telling my kids that they never answered my e-mails, and they say, ‘What e-mail?’”
    “I don’t know how you keep it all straight with six kids. I don’t know how you did it when they were all at home and in school. I have great admiration for you, Summer. Here I was, giving a round of applause to Wayne; you deserve the praise as well.”
    “I feel as if all you’ve done since I arrived is affirm me. Thanks, Noelle.”
    “It could be I’m trying to make up for a few times when I slipped up in being supportive in our friendship over the years.”
    “What do you mean?”
    “I never told you this, but I felt guilty when I wrote to tell you I was expecting Tara. You had been trying so hard to have children and had gone through those terrible miscarriages, and here we weren’t even trying, and we were pregnant. I think I was five months along before I finally wrote you.”
    “I was happy for you. I really was.”
    “I know you were. You were so sweet about sending gifts for both the girls. I did a horrible job of remembering your children’s birthdays and—”
    “Hey, don’t do that. Don’t compare. I never felt slighted by you. You expressed genuine interest and love for all our children every time you asked about them. That meant just as much to me as if you had sent cards to them on their birthdays. We show our love in different ways. That’s okay.”
    Noelle glanced at me. “You’re right. It is okay, isn’t it?”
    I smiled back. “Yes, it is.”
    The ease of our give-and-take conversation felt as natural as if we had spent many hours together like this, side by side, over the years. Even though I had fluffed up the notion early that morning that I could have gone home before breakfast and felt satisfied with the visit, I was glad I was still here.
    I knew in my heart that if I opened up to Noelle about the biopsy and my encroaching fears, she would lovingly process all my thoughts with me. But I didn’t want to process them. I wanted to push them back into the basement of my emotions and simply live. I wanted to celebrate and enjoy life the way we had last night at dinner. I was determined to gather as many rich and meaningful experiences as I could this week. I planned to save them in the scrapbook of my memory so I could return to view them fondly in the days ahead. I would look at this time with Noelle and say to myself,
Well, at