Between Friends (16 page)
Authors: Debbie Macomber
My antidote to grief has been painting. Daddy took up oil painting after he retired, and later Mom dabbled in it for a while. When Mom moved east, she sold quite a few of Daddy’s things, rather than transport them across the country. But she couldn’t bring herself to get rid of the oils and brushes. Not knowing what to do with them, she gave the whole kit and caboodle to me. I put the equipment in a closet and completely forgot about it until just recently.
To my surprise, I’ve discovered I enjoy painting. I don’t think I’m particularly gifted, but it calms my spirit. So far, I haven’t shown anyone my paintings (other than Leni Jo and Mom). I’ve done several small canvases now and am taking classes on Saturday afternoons. It’s my one indulgence.
I wonder what 1989 will hold. More work, of course! I’m grateful to have a demanding career, otherwise I might have allowed the tide of loss to sweep me beneath the surface. My friends are few in number, mostly peers and attorneys. My life is so hectic I can’t take the time to develop deep relationships. Lesley is and always will be my best friend.
Soon all her children will be raised and out of the house. David’s in the Army. He enlisted last year when the military offered him a way to receive advanced computer skills. He jumped at the opportunity, certain that computers are the wave of the future. Lesley wasn’t happy, since he didn’t discuss the decision with her or anyone else. He’s stationed in California and although he misses his family, he loves the work.
As for computers, I swear they’re taking over the world. Monty claimed that by the end of the century there’d be one in every home and I’m beginning to believe he is (was) right.
Lindy’s a sophomore, attending Pine Ridge Community College. Her note at Christmas mentioned that she’s considering medicine, but she enjoys her drama classes, too, and joined a community theater group. It wouldn’t surprise me if she went into nursing, like her mother and her aunt Susan; perhaps she’ll even become a doctor. I’m sure Lindy could accomplish anything she set her mind to. For years Lesley said that her daughter was the one most like Buck and in some ways she’s right. But Lindy has a lot of her mother in her, too, and no one should discount her ambition and drive.
Doug graduates from high school this year and is already talking about joining the military like his older brother. He sounds pretty determined. I doubt Lesley will be able to dissuade him.
Christopher is in his last year of junior high and making quite a name for himself as a cross-country runner.
He’s good enough to run varsity for the high school, although technically he’s still in junior high. Last spring he was eligible to compete in the state tournament. Lesley derives a lot of pleasure from attending his meets. Dr. Milton has always been very flexible and accommodating, so there’s no problem about leaving the office early to watch Christopher run.
It won’t be long now before all the kids are gone and Lesley will be alone. I wonder if she’ll think about dating then. I hope she does—but if not, I’ll understand. I’ve been a widow for just over two years, and the thought of another relationship has no appeal. I can’t imagine that it ever will.
***
Brad Lincoln
30 Market Street
St. Simons Island, GA 31522
February 8, 1989
Dear James Murphy,
This address came from an old telephone book, so I don’t know if you’ll ever actually see my letter. I’m looking for the brother of Nicholas Patrick Murphy. The Nick I knew died in Vietnam in 1968. He often talked about his little brother, and I’m hoping you’re him.
Let me start by introducing myself. My name is Brad Lincoln. I don’t know if you remember Nick mentioning me, but I suspect he wrote home about me the same way I did him. After all these years you’ve probably forgotten my name. I’m hoping your memory will kick in, though. Your brother was the best friend I ever had. He saved my life and died doing it. I took his death hard. The only thing that kept me sane for the next few years was the knowledge that I would’ve done the same for him had the situation been reversed.
In the twenty-one years since Nam, I’ve married, had a couple of kids and made a decent life for myself. For the most part, I buried the experiences of war as deep inside me as I could. In other words, I did my damnedest to forget. But I want you to know I never forgot Nick. Not one day in all those years.
Last summer I visited the Vietnam War Memorial with my wife and kids, and made a point of looking up Nick’s name while I was there. I have to tell you I got pretty broken up when I saw it. You don’t need me to tell you that your brother was a good man. An honorable man. Plenty of guys cheated on their wives and girlfriends while they were in Nam, but not Nick. He loved his Jillian heart and soul. That’s what he always used to say—heart and soul—and it was true.
This brings me to the reason for my letter. I think Nick must’ve had an intuition about what was going to happen because he gave me something that belonged to Jillian and asked me to return it to her. He wrote a letter to go along with it. I’ve never opened the envelope.
When I got out of the hospital and home from the war, I tried to contact her, but her mother wrote and asked that I leave her alone. It’d only been a couple of years and Jillian was just beginning to get on with her life. Her mother didn’t want me disrupting whatever peace she’d found. I understood. I always intended to deliver this to her, but set it aside and waited for the right time.
She’s had more than twenty years to heal and so have I. At the Wall in Washington, D.C., Nick reminded me that I still hadn’t done the one thing he asked of me.
I wrote Jillian at the address I had for her, but the letter was returned. Apparently she doesn’t have any family left in Pine Ridge. Do you know where she is and how I might reach her?
Your help would be greatly appreciated.
Sincerely,
Brad Lincoln
***
March 5, 1989
Dear David,
It was great to hear your voice yesterday. You sounded so excited—although I have to tell you I don’t have a clue what you were talking about. I’m sorry, but the announcement of a million-transistor microchip doesn’t mean much to me. Thank you for explaining that a million transistors can fit on a surface half the size of a postage stamp, but I don’t see how that’s going to affect my life. Still, if you’re excited about this, it must mean good news for all of us.
I know it’s more than the news from Intel that prompted your phone call. You might not think I picked up on the fact that you mentioned your girlfriend. Meagan, you said her name was? It sounds as if this is more than a casual relationship. I’d love to meet her. You like this girl, don’t you? I’ve waited a long time for you to mention someone special. We’re very much alike, David. You’re careful and deliberate in your choices, which is the same way I approach relationships. Life has taught me that.
And yet...there are chances worth taking. I don’t have a great deal of experience with falling in love, but I know you didn’t come to me for advice. You’ll have to trust your own emotions. Protect yourself— but not too much.
If Meagan’s the one to bring that smile to your voice, then I love her already. I want for you what every mother wants for her son—your happiness.
We’re all doing fine. There’s no need to rehash the news, but I will tell you that Lindy applied for the summer session at the University of Washington in the pre-med program.
Doug talked to a Navy recruiter yesterday. He’d enlist right now if it didn’t require my signature. I hope to God we don’t go to war any time soon with two of my sons in the military.
Christopher sends his love and says he wishes you were home again. So do I.
Some sad news. Dr. Milton’s wife was recently diagnosed with a brain tumor. Please pray for her. Both Dr. Milton and Gloria have been very good to all of us. I’m not sure what’s going to happen, since Dr. Milton isn’t one to bring his personal problems to the office, but her condition is obviously serious.
Take care of yourself and write when you can.
Love,
Mom
***
Leni Jo Gordon
April 3, 1989
Dear Exxon Company,
The pictures on television showed what happened when your tanker spilled 11 million gallons of oil in Prince William Sound in Alaska. You should be ashamed of yourself. My mother is a judge. You’re lucky you won’t appear in her court because she’s as angry with you as I am.
Sincerely,
Leni Jo Gordon
Age 11
***
LESLEY KNOWLES
May 14, 1989
Dearest Jillian,
Help, I’m in a panic! I just got word that the Army is transferring David to Panama. My son’s going to be down there with those rebels! From what the evening news said, we already have ten thousand troops in place. This is sounding scary.
David’s work so far has been with computers, but now he’s in the field and not behind some desk. You can understand why I’m freaking out. The kids think I worry too much. How can I not?
I’m still a little shell-shocked over David’s transfer, but your news was just as unsettling. So Brad Lincoln contacted you after all these years. Incredible! You’re going to meet him, aren’t you? Promise me you won’t let whatever he says upset you. It goes without saying that if you need to talk you can phone me any time, day or night.
I have an idea. Last year we both turned 40— without any fanfare. It occurred to me that it’s been ages since the two of us had any serious time together. I’m thinking white sandy beaches, pina coladas and lots of sunshine. I generally take my vacation in October, but I’m game to go whenever you can fit me into your busy schedule.
Dr. Milton has been preoccupied with his wife’s condition and I don’t think he’ll care when I take my vacation. However, I do feel it’s important for me to be here during the next few months. Unfortunately things aren’t going well with Mrs. Milton. The tumor is inoperable and growing. I don’t need to tell you how devastating this is to their family. No one’s saying very much here at the office.
Get back to me about a “We’re 40 Getaway” vacation as soon as possible. Let’s kick up our heels and enjoy life while we can. The one truth I’ve learned is that life is both precious and fragile and needs to be grasped with all the passion we have inside us.
What’s that old saying? Life Begins at 40? Are you ready? Because I am!
Love,
Lesley
***
Outside Khe Sanh in South Vietnam
September 15, 1968
My dearest Jillian,
Word came just after dark that we’ll be lifting off at first light. The fighting lately has been fierce. I’ve seen good men die. The fact is, Jillian, I might not come home. Holding you, loving you and marrying you is all I care about. But the way things look here, I don’t know if that will be possible.
If you read this, the worst has happened. I know Brad will find a way to get this letter and my mother’s medallion back to you. There’s one thing I want you to know, and I hope you find peace with it. I’m not afraid of death. Not when it’s been an unwelcome passenger on damn near every mission I’ve flown. I don’t want to die, but I’ve come to believe in God and accept His will in my life, however long or short that is. Personally, I’d choose to end my days in some rocking chair with you at my side and a grandchild on my knee.
Your love for me is everything I’ll ever need. You believed in me and showed me I could be and do anything I want. If I die, Jillian, I want you to know that I will love you through eternity.
Remember how much I love you.
Nick
***
Doug Knowles Senior Creative Writing Class
DYING TO BE FREE
It happened 200 years ago,
And it’s happening today.
In Boston it was a Tea Party
And freedom fighters of yesterday.
Now students stand in Tiananmen Square,
And their hearts are filled with dreams.
They have hopes for Democracy
And all that it brings.
The fire in their hearts
Is reflected in their eyes.
The rage of the army
Is heard in battle cries.
Their Goddess of Democracy
Lies crushed in the square.
She symbolized their purpose;
Now she warns each to prepare.
The cry for freedom is louder
Than any bell can toll.
The government can murder people
But never destroy their goal.
What began as a demonstration
Has begot civil war.
Deng hoped that by killing,
Things would return to ways before.
But people are no longer happy
With what used to be.
They are ready for a change.
They are dying to be free.
***
The Class of
Nineteen Hundred and Eighty-Nine
Pine Ridge High School
Announces its
Commencement Exercises
Sunday afternoon, June fourth
At three o’clock
By Invitation only
***
June 5, 1989
Dear Doug,
Congratulations! You did your mother and your family proud this afternoon.
It looks like I’m not going to be able to change your mind about joining the Navy. All right, Doug, go ahead with my blessing. You’re a strong, capable
young man, and you have a lot to offer. Love, Mom
July 14, 1989
Dear Mom and Christopher,
Davey was right, Basic Training is hard. It’s probably the hardest thing I’ve ever done, but I’m going to see it through.
I have some news. We were tested last week and remember how I always got top grades in French with hardly any studying? Well, it seems I have a flair for languages. That’s what the tests say. I talked with the Staff Sergeant, and he says I’ll probably be sent to Linguistic School. I asked him what languages I might be learning. I don’t hold out much hope that I’ll be taking French again, but who knows. It seems there’s an emphasis on the Middle Eastern languages, especially Arabic.
I got a letter from David and he’s hoping to get out of Panama soon. He complained about the heat and the bugs, but I think he’s missing Meagan more than anything.
Hey, Christopher, have you moved into my bedroom yet? You’d better not, ’cause I’ll come back and kick your butt if you do. I’ve learned a hundred different ways to maim and kill and I have no qualms about using any of them on you. PSYCH! It wouldn’t hurt to write your big brother once in a while, you know.
Take care,
Doug
***
August 4, 1989
Dearest Jillian, I just got back from the travel agent’s and I’ve booked everything on my end. I’m so excited I feel like a kid again. The last real vacation I had was when I was thirteen and our family went camping.
I fly into Miami on October 17th with a plane change in Atlanta. My flight lands just fifteen minutes after yours. I’ll meet you at the gate and we can go collect our luggage together. We pick up the rental car at the airport. I don’t mind driving as long as you navigate.
I’ve never heard of the resort, but then how would I? Marathon Key. Any reason it’s named that? Not that it matters. I’d go just about anywhere as long as we could be together for nine glorious days. I’ve already got a few books I’m saving to read. One I’m bringing is
The Joy Luck Club
by Amy Tan. It really looks interesting.
Taking this time off isn’t going to be a problem at the office. Dr. Milton has booked a two-week cruise for him and his wife, also in October. She appears to be responding to the treatments. Dr. Milton is devoted to her. I’ve always respected him, but seeing how much he loves his wife gives me faith that there might be a good man in my future.
Christopher thinks it’s ridiculous that he has to go stay with Mom and Eric while I’m away. But I don’t feel right about leaving a fifteen-year-old boy on his own. I’m determined not to give in, even though he has a way of talking me around. I remember how Mom spoiled Bruce, and now I catch myself doing the same thing with my youngest.
I’m so anxious to see you, I can hardly stand it. Just two more months!
Love,
Lesley
1991
Jillian’s Journal
January 1, 1991
At the start of a new year I’m usually filled with enthusiasm and energy. This year is different. What I feel now is dread and worry. Not since Vietnam have I been this afraid. It’s almost certain that we’re going to war against Iraq. The coalition has been building up its forces for months, and the deadline for Iraq to withdraw its troops from Kuwait is looming closer, although there’s been no movement at all. Apparently James Baker, the Secretary of State, is meeting with the Iraqi Foreign Minister early in the month, but no one’s holding out much hope of a peaceful resolution.
I can feel tension everywhere on the streets of New York, where security has never been higher. There’s fear of terrorist activity all across America, but a lot of people believe that if and when it happens, it’ll be here in New York. An uneasy feeling comes over me every morning when Leni Jo leaves for school. I couldn’t bear it if anything happened to my daughter.
Speaking of children, I’m sick with fear for Lesley. Both David and Doug are in the Persian Gulf. David is with the ground forces and Doug’s aboard one of the aircraft carriers. Lesley is frantic. She’s dedicated her entire life to her children. The thought of either boy being killed is enough to start her weeping uncontrollably. This brings back all the angst I endured when Nick left for Vietnam. I remember how high his morale was when he flew to Southeast Asia. He was confident that he’d put in his time and get the hell out of there and return home safe and whole. I see that same enthusiasm in the faces of our young men and it terrifies me. These boys have no idea what they’re headed for, no idea at all. Dear God, this is insanity!
Mom and Leni Jo are walking down to St. Patrick’s every afternoon to pray for peace. Leni Jo tells me the church is bright with all the votive candles people have lit. My daughter astonishes me with her understanding of this situation. Her teacher has gotten the entire class involved in a letter-writing campaign to our troops. Thank heaven she has Mom to talk to about this war, because I can’t seem to manage more than a few coherent words at a time. This is all too familiar, and all too real. In my heart I know that Saddam Hussein intends to play this out to the bitter end, whatever that might be. Everyone’s biggest fear is that he’ll use biological warfare, which he’s done in the past against Iran.
I don’t know what the future holds for our country, my family or for me. When life was riding along fairly smoothly I didn’t give peace much thought. Now worries consume me and the unknown future is a frightening prospect.
***
a
Pine Ridge Herald
a
January 7, 1991
Obituary
Services are being held for Gloria Milton, 50, who died at her home Sunday January 6th. Mrs. Milton succumbed after a long illness. The service will be held Wednesday, the 9th, at 1 p.m. at Our Lady of the Woods Mortuary. Burial will be in Pine Ridge Cemetery.
Mrs. Milton was born August 10, 1942 in Portland, Oregon. She attended the University of Oregon where she met Dr. Steven Milton, OB-GYN. They were married in 1964.
Survivors include her husband and two daughters, Maryanne Steadman and Sandy Princeton; two grandchildren, Bryce and Jay Ann; one sister, Joan, and one brother, Ken, in addition to several nieces and nephews.
Mrs. Milton was an active volunteer in the community. She was a member of the Regular Baptist Church, and sang with the choir. She taught first-grade Sunday School for twelve years. In lieu of flowers the family requests donations to the American Cancer Society.
***
SOMEWHERE IN SAUDI ARABIA
January 14, 1991
Dear Mom and Christopher,
Thanks for all the mail. I can’t tell you how great it is to hear from you. They’re keeping us busy here, so we barely have a moment to ourselves. It’s hot and miserable, but the desert has its own beauty, too. (Or so they say. I haven’t discovered it yet, but give me time.) We’re all working together toward a common purpose and because of that, everyone’s pretty much able to look past any discomfort.
I know you don’t want to hear this, but it looks like we’re going into battle soon. The brass haven’t discussed their battle plans with me, but war seems inevitable. I don’t want to die. If it happens, though, I want to be prepared for it. That’s one of the reasons for this letter. Mom, you’ve been the greatest. I couldn’t have asked for a better mother in the whole world and I’m not just saying that. I mean it with all my heart. I know that life with Dad was never easy for you, but you did everything you could to hold the family together. Lindy might not believe that, but Doug, Christopher and I do.
I haven’t heard from Dad in years. None of us have, but I feel like I should make my peace with him. I talked to a lady who works with the Red Cross and she said she could help me locate him. I’ve written him a letter and given her all the information I had. The last thing I remember, he was in Sitka, Alaska. That’s right, isn’t it? She said she’d do everything she could to find him and give him my letter.
Thanks, Mom, for phoning Meagan. She said it meant a lot to her. If I come out of this alive, I’m going to ask her to marry me. Do you have any feelings about that? I’d like to make you a grandmother within the next few years.
Don’t worry about me, Mom. I mean that. We each have a job to do on this earth and it could be that mine has been accomplished. You raised me as a Christian so I know where I’m headed if this is the end.
I’ll write more as soon as I can, but I wanted to tell you that I’ve sought out Dad. I don’t expect a reply, but there were things I needed to settle between him and me, just in case... I know you’ll understand.
Love,
David
***
Lesley’s Journal
February 4, 1991
I’m addicted to the television, watching news of the war. Desert Storm is a good name for it. It feels as though my entire life has been caught up in a sandstorm, a whirlwind of chaos and uncertainty. First David and Doug being shipped to the Middle East to fight for a country I’d never heard of until last year. Then Mrs. Milton died, and although it was expected, her death hit me hard. She was such a gracious, kind and generous woman. Poor Dr. Milton seems lost without her. He’s only been back to work these last two weeks and just isn’t himself. This is such a difficult time for him.
Cole Greenberg is one of CNN’s correspondents from inside Baghdad. Whenever his face flashes on the screen, I feel breathless. I’m instantly flooded with all these emotions I’d prefer not to confront. He was sincere with me, and I was young, foolish and afraid. My divorce from Buck left the children so needy, shaken to their core, and I had to be there for them 100%. I still believe it was best to cut things off when I did, even though I have my regrets.
Everyone expects the ground war to start soon. So far, it appears we have reason to be optimistic. Hussein is doing everything he can to draw us into battle on the ground, which includes turning Kuwait into an environmental disaster area. I realize that as soon as the war starts, David will be in the thick of it. All I can do is pray and trust in God. Living hand to mouth the way we did when Buck was part of the family, I thought I knew what faith was about. But leaving the lives of two of my children in God’s hands—that’s
real
faith.
Jillian and I talk nearly every day now. She tries to hide how concerned she is about the war and David and Doug. She’s afraid my sons won’t be coming home. She’s terrified of history repeating itself. I remind her that this isn’t Vietnam, but I don’t think she hears me.
She’s coming for a visit in August. We have a condo booked in Mexico for a week. No kids, no worries, just sunshine and laughter while we create more happy memories. My prayer is that by then, this terrible war will be behind us.
***
P. O. Box 984 Lubbock, Texas 79460 February 11, 1991
Dear Lesley,
Surprise! I bet I was the last person you expected to hear from. It’s been a while, hasn’t it?
Listen, I owe you a shitload of child support, but the last few years haven’t been easy. I had enough trouble supporting myself, let alone four kids. It looks like you did all right without me, though. I probably won’t ever find the money to pay you what I owe. I wish things were different but they’re not, and you might as well accept that. Knowing you, I suspect you already have. You were never one to hold a grudge.
After my stint in Alaska I headed for Texas, which was a mistake. I won’t go into my troubles here, but there were reasons other than the child support issue why you didn’t hear from me. I’ve been sober for six months and think I’ve finally got my problems with booze licked. I’ve got a job and a decent place to live. I was married a second time but that was another mistake I made in the last thirteen years.
Enough about me. I had the surprise of my life when I heard from David. His letter arrived last week and I have to tell you it shook me up pretty bad. I had no idea he was over in the Middle East. Doug, too, he said.
I’m concerned about David. What he said in his letter led me to believe he doesn’t expect to come home. I’ve probably told you this before, but I’ve done a lot of things I regret. I’m not ashamed to admit it. Hell, everyone makes mistakes. But marrying you and fathering four children are the things of which I’m proudest. You did one hell of a good job raising ’em, and you did it with damn little help from me.
Getting David’s letter made me realize everything I walked away from when you asked for that divorce. I talked with my AA sponsor, and one of the twelve steps to recovery has to do with making retribution wherever possible. If it takes me the next fifty years, I swear I’m going to make up to you for all the grief I caused you and the kids.
I guess what I’m saying is I want to be part of the family again. David said you’d never remarried. I’m glad, Lesley, because that means I have a chance. Tell me I do. It would mean the world to me.
I handed in my notice at work this morning. It won’t take much to pack up everything I have. I’ll probably have to nurse my truck along the way, but it should get as far as Washington. If all goes well, I’ll be back in Pine Ridge before March 1st.
For the first time in a lot of years, I have hope. I gotta tell you, it feels damn good.
See ya soon.
Buck
***
February 15, 1991
Dearest Dad,
I don’t know if this will reach you before you leave Texas, but I had to try. Mom has let it be known that you aren’t welcome to live with her and Christopher, but you can stay with me if you want. I have a cat and it’s just a small studio apartment, but we can manage, don’t you think? It will be good to see you again.
Your daughter,
Lindy
***
From the Department of Defense
Addressed to: Mrs. Lesley Knowles
February 16, 1991
It is with deep regret that we inform you that your son David Michael Knowles Is Missing in Action In Iraq
***
JILLIAN LAWTON GORDON
331 WEST END AVENUE
APARTMENT 1020
NEW YORK, NY 10023
February 20, 1991
Dearest, dearest Lesley,
I can’t sleep. I know we talked for an hour already, but I’m still in shock. I can’t accept this is happening. The ground war has yet to start. How can David be missing? You explained everything to me, but I’m having a hard time taking it in.
At least there’s hope. We know that when the helicopter went down, there were men seen on the ground who survived the crash. I have to believe David was one of those men, otherwise I think I’ll go crazy. I can’t allow myself to remember what happened to Nick. But as you’ve reminded me so often in the last few months, this isn’t Vietnam and David isn’t Nick.
I haven’t stepped inside a church since Monty’s funeral. I felt that God turned His back on me and to be honest, I haven’t missed Him. You’ve always maintained your faith, and while I considered all that Bible talk fine for you, I wasn’t interested. Religion is not the answer for me. But Lesley, I don’t mind telling you how afraid I am, for David and for you. This situation is forcing me to relive the biggest nightmare of my life.
You say the word and I’m on the next flight out of here. If there’s anything and I mean ANYTHING I can do, let me know. You’re as close as any sister I could have had.
Love,
Jillian and Leni Jo
***