Happily Ever After? by Debra Kent Page A

Hunter would love that!” she said. She said she was trying to get an early start on making beginning-ofthe-year gifts
     for the teachers, and maybe Pete would like to get involved. She had an idea for filling teacups with chocolate-dipped spoons
     and little packs of flavored instant coffee. “It’s really easy, and so yummy!” I told Lynette that I’d send Pete over on Saturday
     afternoon, and then maybe I could have Hunter in the evening for a sleepover.
    “Really? Oh! That would be great!” She was beaming now and it made me feel guilty. I’d behaved punitively toward her, and
     why? Because she’d tumbled—consensually—into bed with another couple?
    Exactly.
    ’Til next time,
    V
July 5
    I spent the morning online, researching prostate cancer treatments. I found an intriguing trial in Los Angeles, made a few
     phone calls, and managed to get my father an interview with the oncologist who is heading up the research. But when I called
     my mother, she had an entirely different idea.
    “Forget the doctors,” she told me. “Let’s take your father to Medjugorje.”
    “You want to take him where?”
    “Medjugorje. People come from all over to be healed. They see visions of the Virgin Mary.”
    “Mother, you’re kidding, right?”
    “I’m absolutely serious. I saw a TV special on this place. It’s amazing. People see apparitions, they experience miraculous
     healings. Valerie. We’ve gone the medical route. I want to try it. Please.”
    I didn’t know what to say. My mother had never reallybegged me for anything. “But we’re not even Catholic.”
    “It doesn’t matter. Anyone can go. Valerie. Please. It’s our last hope. Your father wants to do this.”
    I sighed. “Where is this place?”
    “It’s a village in Bosnia-Herzegovina.”
    “WHAT? Are you crazy? We’ll get ourselves killed.”
    “No, no. It’s fine, it’s safe. We’ll go with a group. We’ll be fine. Please, Val. Let’s do this. Let’s go to Medjugorje.”
    “Okay, Mom.” I sighed. “We’ll go. We’ll go to Medjugorje.”
    And we will.
    ’Til next time,
    V
July 6
    Went to Talbot’s today for a new outfit. My mission: To dress like a Mushroomhead. I bought a pale blue crepe jacket ($184),
     matching slacks ($89), and strappy sandals ($110).
    Now that I’ve got the outfit, tomorrow I’m paying a visit to C.J. Patterson. I’m going to make her an irresistible offer.
     And then I’m calling Omar to push for a permanent custody agreement so Roger will never, ever get his hands on my son.
    ’Til next time,
    V
July 7
    Met with C.J. She was wearing the same blue crepe suit. We tittered politely and I said something lame like “Great minds shop
     alike.” When she went upstairs to get her reading glasses, she came down wearing a white sundress.
    My plan went beautifully. I offered her $25,000 for the hospital foundation, but first she had to do me a small favor.
    “I want you to press charges against Jerry Johansen.”
    “What?”
    “You heard me. I want you to call the police and press charges.”
    “But he’s gone. What’s the difference?”
    “The difference is that he’s creepy, and whether he lives here or in Wyoming, he shouldn’t be coaching little boys.”
    C.J. smoothed her highlighted hair with both hands. “Why can’t you do this? Peter is involved in this too.”
    “Because I’ve got enough legal activity in my life right now. And because you’re a respected member of our community. Your
     husband golfs with the D.A. and you play bridge with his wife. You can make it happen C.J., I don’t have that kind of pull
     in this town.”
    C.J.’s cheeks reddened as she absorbed the compliment.
    “I’d love to support the hospital. But it’s hard for me to think about making big donations when I’ve got this other thing
     on my mind.” My sandals were killing me.
    “Okay. I’ll have my husband make a phone call. I’m sure we can get this matter resolved. And in the meantime …” She