Rosenblum: Now also free, Hickey wonders: What's next?

Cindy Hickey made whole-wheat pancakes, scrambled eggs with vegetables, and berries with fresh whipped cream for breakfast earlier this week. Cooking was fun again, especially since she was cooking for her son, Shane Bauer, and his fiancée, Sarah Shourd, visiting Hickey at her Pine City, Minn., home for three days earlier this week.

"Fresh whipped cream for breakfast?" a delighted Shourd asked, Hickey recalled.

Why not? Everything seems possible now.

After nearly 26 months in Iran's grim Evin prison, Bauer and his friend, Josh Fattal, both 29, were freed Sept. 21. Shourd, 33, was released from Evin on Sept. 14, 2010, after 410 days of solitary confinement. Bauer proposed to Shourd in prison, but no wedding date has been set.

"It's a common question, though," Hickey said with a smile.

As Bauer, Shourd and Fattal step forward into freedom, 51-year-old Hickey, too, is awakening to a new normal. Coffee tastes rich again. She can take four-hour walks and leave her BlackBerry behind. She doesn't have to wear red lipstick for the camera. She sleeps a different sleep.

And she can say goodbye to her son without panicking.

Hickey is dressed casually, her neck wrapped in a stunning scarf of orange, red and turquoise that she bought in Oman, where the families traveled to greet their freed loved ones. Her long brown hair is wavy, her eyes blue. She wears no makeup and doesn't need to.

Hickey, who ran a business training sled dogs, laughs recalling the reaction of some in the media to her closet, filled with "dog-mushing clothes, high-caliber Arctic wear." She learned quickly how to walk into Talbots and say: "I have to do TV. Will you dress me?"

The mother of three adult children was thrust into the international spotlight in July 2009. She was working with a client in the office of her secluded home when the phone rang. "I never answer the phone when I'm working with a client," she said. She picked up. A woman with the State Department told Hickey that three hikers, including her son, had been detained for possibly crossing into Iran illegally.

Months later, she was stunned to find her desk still in disarray from that day. "I like things organized, and they weren't," she said. "I realized it's because I didn't feel comfortable in that spot."

Discomfort became the pulse of daily life. Over coffee, she'd devour the news -- Iranian first, then American. She'd set up meetings and conference calls, send e-mails and letters to Iranian authorities, check-in regularly with her family. Shourd's mother, Nora, moved in with Hickey and her husband, Jim, for nine months, until Shourd was released.

She read volumes on Iranian law and history, and worked with the media to keep the story covered. "I'm very private by nature. I don't do Facebook. Then, I realized we had to be high-profile to keep that drumbeat up."

Bauer, who grew up in Onamia, and Shourd were living together in Damascus, Syria, where he worked as a freelance journalist and she taught English. They vehemently deny espionage charges.

Bauer and his mother rode horses competitively together when he was younger and have remained close. She was granted less than 10 minutes in phone calls and only one visit during his imprisonment.

"I couldn't give in to what my emotions might be at the moment," said Hickey, a former E.R. nurse and marathon sled-dog racer. "I had to be strong, quick. I'm a mom. There is not an option."

Jim was her rock. "He reminded me to eat. He never once in two years complained about my schedule. He took care of the animals when I was out of town. He financially supported me after I shut down my business. Without him, I couldn't have done what I did."

Hickey is finally free to do the same. She won't rush it. "I need to heal, to feel the emotions of the past two years," she said.

Maybe she'll hike the Appalachian Trail, or start a new business. "I've tried to hang on to the old Cindy," she said. "I like who I was. I feel like I'm entering autumn in my life as a woman. It's a beautiful time."

She knows she wants to help other families in similar dire straits. She wants them to experience the joy she felt this week.

"When I went to sleep, Shane was in my house," she said, "and not just in my thoughts."

Gail Rosenblum • 612-673-7350 gail.rosenblum@startribune.com