Between Friends by Debbie Macomber (14)

January 1, 1978

Dearest Nick,

I’m still not pregnant. Monty and I are so discouraged. We’ve been married almost two years now. We don’t know what’s wrong. Both of us have been tested, a humiliating experience which we endured because we desperately want a child. I couldn’t bear it if Monty and I can’t have children. As you can see, I’m very distressed about this. However, my parents waited years for me and I eventually came along. I take hope from that.

Married life is surprisingly good. Monty wants me to cut back on my work hours. He believes it’s the stress of my job that’s keeping me from getting pregnant. I suspect he’s right, and as of the first of the year (today!) I’ll be in the office only three days a week. We moved into a wonderful new apartment and absolutely love it.

I feel this urgency to hurry up and have children. Monty’s age is a factor and my parents’ ages, too. Both my mother and father are anxious for grandchildren. Dad’s turning seventy this year, and he’d like the opportunity to watch them grow up.

Monty and I spent four days in Pine Ridge over the Christmas holidays. Last year Mom and Dad flew to New York, but Dad hates to fly. He does it for Mom and me. He has this theory about all those germs floating around and infecting everyone unlucky enough to share the flight. His theories are often amusing. I sit and listen, nod at the appropriate times and pretend to agree. I wonder if I’ll be anything like him at that age. In many ways I hope I am.

Unfortunately, because of our abbreviated visit, I only had a few hours with Lesley. Buck was off work because of a bad back but was feeling well enough to leave his sickbed to go bowling with his buddies. (Need I say more?) I can’t tell you the number of times I’ve had to bite my tongue when it comes to the subject of Buck Knowles. Lesley is more religious than ever, which I can understand. If I was married to Buck, I’d find God, too.

She’s clever at crafts and sews these cute little Tooth Fairy pouches from leftover material. She sells them at Christmas bazaars and other craft shows. Apparently she’s doing quite well with that. I wish we’d had more time, but Christopher had an ear infection and she had to take him to the doctor on the 26th, when we’d originally planned to get together. Luckily Pine Ridge now has a free health clinic. Buck hasn’t worked enough hours for the mill to cover his health insurance so Lesley had to wait her turn, which took hours. She was there nearly all of one day before the doctor could see Christopher and write a prescription. I did visit the next day. David, Lindy and Doug were so enthusiastic about the gifts I brought, so pathetically grateful, it nearly broke my heart. You’ll note Davey now prefers to be called David. He’s a lovely child, although that isn’t generally the way I’d describe an eleven-year-old boy. He’s sensitive and caring, gentle-spirited and protective of his younger brothers and sister. I can already see that Lindy’s going to be a handful. I don’t envy Lesley, especially when her daughter hits the teenage years. Dougie is in first grade and a real charmer. Because his ear hurt, three-year-old Christopher clung to Lesley and refused to have anything to do with me.

I was sorry not to have time to visit Mrs. Adamski. Although she didn’t say much, Lesley alluded to the fact that her mother’s life is vastly different now that Mr. Adamski is gone. Apparently she’s dating and has a regular beau. Good for her!

Jim and I met Christmas Eve Day at the cemetery and placed flowers on your parents’ graves and on yours, too. We were only together an hour, but as far as I could tell, he’s happy. I’m delighted that he married Angie, and you would be, too. She’s been good for him. It wouldn’t surprise me if they made you an uncle soon.

I thought that after this year, I wouldn’t write you any more letters. I’m married now and somehow it didn’t seem right that I should continue this. I loved you so completely, Nick, but you left me. It’s been almost ten years since you were killed. As much as I thought everything would stay frozen in that time and space, it hasn’t. I’ve aged ten years, and the world is changing so fast I sometimes feel I can’t keep up. Most importantly, I have a husband now, whom I truly love. Still, I couldn’t bear the thought of letting you go completely. At one time you were my whole world, and I was yours.

I decided this morning, as I reached for my new journal, that one day a year, just one, I would invite you back into my life. Once a year, on January first, I will sit down and talk to you, just as if you were here with me.

You see, Nick, I’ve discovered that life does stagger forward and there’s a certain beauty in that. Because in a way, I experience the past and the present at once. When I write you, I force myself to look back through time at the girl I was. I’m a woman now, and I’d like to think I’m wiser and a bit more pragmatic. Still, part of me continues to hold on to you. For now that’s the right thing to do, but at some point in the future, I might choose to release you. Just remember that won’t mean I’ve forgotten you or stopped loving you.

I know this sounds a little crazy, but I swear there are moments when I feel you’re with me. Not in a physical sense, but a spiritual one. It’s the sort of thing Lesley probably believes. She’s so into the Bible and her new church. Her life is chaotic, mostly due to Buck, but she remains outwardly calm and serene. I wish I could be more like that. Perhaps one day I’ll find that serenity myself. Perhaps next year when I write you, I’ll be pregnant. That’s my prayer.

Until then...

Jillian

P.S. You’ll note that this is a “journal” and not just a diary—or so the clerk at the stationery store informed me. Does that mean my thoughts and observations are supposed to become more impressive?

January 15, 1978

Dearest Jillian,

Happy birthday! Just a short note inside this card to wish you a happy 30th. We’re all doing fine. Buck still isn’t working. I’ve learned fifty different ways to cook beans. Thank God for food banks.

Write soon.

Lesley

Caribbean Cruise Specialists
Itinerary for passengers:
Jillian Gordon
and Montgomery Gordon
Your Ship: the Grand Prince Rupert
Thank you for booking our premier 10-day package.
Welcome aboard!

March 26, 1978

This hasn’t been a good day. I woke up early and sat with my coffee and my Bible in order to clear my head. It was necessary, otherwise the anger would’ve consumed me. Buck crawled into bed at two in the morning, reeking of cheap cologne and stale beer. He’s doing everything I swore I wouldn’t put up with. Not only is he doing it, he’s flaunting it, as if he wants me to challenge him. Instead I gather my children around me and pretend I don’t notice. I’m sick of my life, sick of swallowing my pride and struggling to hold up my head in public. God knows I’ve done everything I can to save this marriage.

Buck is a practicing alcoholic. These days when he’s drinking, he becomes irrational and angry. He’s rarely home and when he is, he’s verbally abusive to the children and to me. It’s almost as if he’s asking me to kick him out.

I never dreamed it would take such courage. My greatest fear about staying with Buck is that the children will grow up believing this is the way a man treats his wife and family. I can’t allow his ugliness to taint my children the way my father’s alcoholism tainted my brothers, sisters and me.

I’ve got to get out of this marriage! I made a mistake five years ago by taking him back, but I’m stronger this time. Buck has broken every promise he’s ever made to me. I deserve better. I’ve learned my lesson. If this is what marriage is like, then I’ll never again risk such unhappiness.

Leaving Buck means putting Christopher in day care and taking a job outside the home, but I’ll do it. I’d do a whole lot more than that to protect my children.

April 27, 1978

Dear Mr. and Mrs. Montgomery Gordon,

Congratulations! It is with extreme pleasure that we confirm your pregnancy. Your expected delivery date is November 15th.

Sincerely,
Dr. Oliver Keast

May 1, 1978

Dear Lesley,

Okay, you’ve made your point. You can call off your rabid dog of an attorney. I’ll agree to the terms of the divorce, but in return I want you to do something for me.

Wait.

I know you’re set on this divorce. I don’t like it, but you have cause. All I ask, and I’m begging you, baby, is that you give me time to pull my life together. Give me one last chance to prove to you that I’m sincere. I need you and my family.

Don’t take my children away from me. You might not think it’s true, but I love you. I’ve always loved you and you can’t doubt the way I feel about our children. All of you are my life.

I wish to hell I knew why I do the things I do. I don’t blame you for kicking me out. I suppose that’s what I get for cheating on you. But you’re the only good thing I’ve ever had in my life. Without you and the kids I might as well give up.

Think about it. Please? What will six months matter, anyway? That’s all the time I’m asking. Six lousy months. I’m going to prove to you that I can stay sober and faithful. I don’t deserve another chance, but I’m begging you to give me one.

In case you’re interested, I’m living in Tom Cullen’s basement. You might remember Tom. He and I went hunting together last fall. He’s only charging me $50.00 a month, which is all I can afford with what the state’s taking out of my check for child support. I hate the thought of you working at that convalescent home, Lesley. Our children need their mother. But if this is what you want, then go ahead.

Please don’t do anything rash. Give me six months. Is that so much to ask after nearly twelve years of marriage? Please, baby.

Buck

May 14, 1978

HAPPY MOTHER’S DAY.

WE LOVE YOU.

David, Lindy, Dougie and Christopher

June 15, 1978

Dearest Lesley,

I’m four wonderful months pregnant as of today! You can’t begin to imagine how excited Monty and I feel. My parents are thrilled, and Monty’s mother, who’s never been quite sure about me, is leaping up and down for joy. I have a few of the negative symptoms but I can’t remember a time my appetite’s been healthier. Manhattan offers the most incredible assortment of ethnic food and currently I’m into anything Italian. Last week we ordered out from Balducci’s three times.

You should see Monty. He’s so protective of me it’s not even funny! I guess that means dancing at Studio 54 is out until after the baby’s born. As if I could ever have convinced Monty to bump and grind with what he calls “the libertine elite.” (Have you heard of Studio 54? It’s a trendy disco with strobe lights and computer-programmed synthesizers and a drum machine. Think Donna Summers, Andy Warhol and John Travolta all in the same place at once!)

I have your last letter here in front of me. You’re right, I am disappointed that you’ve decided to delay the divorce. Do you seriously believe Buck is going to change in six months? He’s already had twelve years! But this is your life, so I won’t say any more.

Still, I want you to know I’m proud of you, Lesley. The decision to separate from Buck couldn’t have been easy. I don’t mean to suggest otherwise. I know it’s hard on the children but as you explained, they rarely saw Buck anyway and when they did, he was usually in a foul mood.

Mom mentioned bumping into you at Oaks Convalescent Center. She was at the Center as part of her work with Catholic Charities (but you probably know that). Her ladies’ group from the church took on the project several years ago. She said you looked wonderful and that the staff and patients already love you. When she asked her friend who works in personnel about you, Mrs. Wagner said you’re terrific with the patients. Cheerful, sympathetic and compassionate. Apparently all the retired men are in love with you.

And speaking of love... Remember what Roy Kloster told you at our class reunion? He’s not married. Write him, why don’t you? This isn’t an idle suggestion. I’ve been thinking about it for quite a while. I’ve resisted the urge to contact him myself on your behalf—don’t worry, I won’t. This is something you’ve got to do on your own. My guess is he’d be thrilled to hear from you.

How are the kids? I’m glad your mother agreed to watch Christopher while you work. It helps that the three oldest can drop by her house on their way home from school, too. What would we do without our mothers?

It must be a hoot to see your mother date. I can’t imagine mine going out with any man other than my dad. Still, it’s a good thing your mom isn’t sitting at home pining after your father. What’s this about her dating a former priest???

I’ll be able to write more often now that I’ve stopped working. I do intend to go back to the firm after the baby’s born. Just part-time at first.

Keep me informed. You’re going to be fine, Lesley. Write or call me anytime. What are friends for?

Love,
Jillian, Monty and Jr.

Pine Ridge Herald

July 16, 1978

Judge Leonard Lawton
Succumbs to Sudden
Heart Attack

Former Superior Court Judge Leonard Lawton, 70, succumbed to an apparent heart attack at his home on July 15. Judge Lawton is a native of Pine Ridge and served on the bench for twenty-five years before retiring in 1970.

As a Lieutenant during the Second World War, he was stationed in the South Pacific and was decorated for bravery. He is survived by his wife, Barbara Lawton, and one daughter, Jillian, (Mrs. Montgomery Gordon). Mrs. Gordon currently resides in New York City.

Judge Lawton was a member of the Bar, St. Catherine’s Catholic Church, the Veterans of Foreign Wars and the Moose Lodge.

The family asks that in lieu of flowers a donation be made to the American Heart Association.

Funeral services will be held at St. Catherine’s Catholic Church on July 19, 1978.

August 1, 1978

Dearest Dad,

I’m still having trouble believing you’re gone. This was all such a terrible shock to Mom and me. When the phone call came, Monty went pale and then he could barely tell me the news. None of this seems real, or right. I know how much you looked forward to holding your first grandchild, and now you’ll never have that opportunity. How unfair, how wrong. If ever a grandfather deserved to know his grandchild, it was you. You would have made such a wonderful grandpa. I know this because you were a wonderful father.

We had our differences. I think back to those turbulent years during Vietnam and my radical political views while I was in college. So much of the pain and anger I felt at losing Nick was directed at you. You were the “establishment” that had ripped away the person I loved. Blinded by my loss, I lashed out at you and everything you stood for.

It wasn’t until years later that I told you how sorry I was. I cringe now when I remember the awful things I said and wrote to you. What I didn’t say, I shouted with my attitude. You didn’t deserve it.

Daddy, I’m so sorry for hurting you and blaming you for what happened to Nick. I wanted to talk to you about him, but every time I tried, I couldn’t get the words out. They sat like an anchor on my chest and refused to budge. Now I’d give anything to have settled that pain between us, once and for all.

There must have been things you wanted to say to me, too. You never spoke about it but I know you regretted your attitude toward Nick. You wanted to ask my forgiveness for that. I know because of the way you’ve helped Jim and Nick’s father. If there’d been time, you would’ve asked me to take care of Mom. I will. You can count on Monty and me to see to her needs.

I suspect you would’ve wanted me to know how much you loved me. The words aren’t necessary. You said it in a thousand ways. I knew, Dad. I always felt your love.

I’m in Pine Ridge now, settling your affairs. I’ll be with Mom for the next couple of months. I’ve started going through your papers, and it doesn’t surprise me that everything is in immaculate order.

Life won’t be easy for Mom without you. She relied on you for everything. Monty and I understand that and will look after her with the same dedication you did.

Daddy, I’m sorry we can’t move back to Pine Ridge. I know you would’ve preferred that, but with Monty’s job and mine in New York, that just isn’t possible. Lesley has promised to check in with Mom every week and report back to me. If there’s the slightest hint of a problem, I’ll take care of it right away.

I love you, Dad. Rest in glory.

Jillian

September 14, 1978

My Dearest Lesley, Susan, Mike, Joe, Lily and Bruce—My Children,

I hope you can forgive me for writing instead of calling each of you personally. For reasons you will understand in a moment, I thought this was the best approach.

Lesley, you’ve probably already guessed what I’m about to tell you. Susan, you, too. I’ve talked to you both so often in the past few weeks because I couldn’t hold such happiness inside me.

Mikey, I’m delighted that you’ve moved back to Pine Ridge. I never did understand what was so attractive about life in Las Vegas. It’s a desert there, in more ways than the obvious. As your mother, I welcome you with open arms, even if it took your father’s death to bring you home to Washington.

Mikey, we’ve had many a discussion since your return and not all of them have been pleasant, especially over the issue of my seeing Eric. Son, I know you don’t think I should be dating a younger man. I agree it might seem a bit silly, but if it doesn’t bother Eric and me, then it shouldn’t bother anyone else. Ten years may seem like a lot, but when I’m with Eric I feel young again. I’m happy with him. I realize it troubles you even more that Eric was once a priest. Of all my children, you’re the last person I expected to be judgemental about something like this. Try to keep an open mind.

Joe, although you haven’t said anything negative about Eric, I’ve felt your disapproval—and yours too, Bruce. You boys haven’t been as vocal about your feelings as Mikey, but you’ve made it plain you think I’m an old fool. You could be right, but if that’s the case, I’m a happy old fool. In fact, I’m absolutely giddy with joy.

Of all my children, it’s been my three daughters who have encouraged me to live my life as I see fit. Lesley, Susan and Lily. God love you for your support and encouragement. I’m forever grateful to each one of you for your understanding.

As you know, life with your father wasn’t easy, but he’s gone now and I don’t intend to live the rest of my days grieving for a man who mentally and emotionally abused me. I’ve still got a lot of life left in me and I intend to make the most of it.

The reason for this letter is to tell you that Eric has asked me to be his wife. Yes, children, we want to marry. But there’s something else you need to know. Eric isn’t a former priest. He is a priest. This is a shock, I’m sure. Eric never misled me, so please don’t accuse him of lying. I was the one who told you he was a former priest. I stretched the truth a bit. He’s no longer connected with a parish and has been living on his own for the last eighteen months. He’s waiting for dispensation from Rome.

Father Morris knows Eric and isn’t in favor of our relationship. If you decide to talk to someone objective about the situation, I wouldn’t recommend him.

My children, all I’m asking for is your support and your prayers as God guides Eric and me in the direction He wants us to go.

Whatever happens, I pray that all six of you will stand behind my decision.

I love you all.

Mom

December 5, 1978

Dearest Jillian,

Congratulations to you and Monty! Leni Jo is a beautiful baby girl. Those pictures taken at the hospital are normally so dreadful, but I can already see she’s going to be a beautiful, intelligent woman. How proud you must be.

I’m glad you received the baby blanket I knitted for Leni Jo. Every stitch was made with my love for you and your daughter. Don’t you dare be afraid to use it! You’re right, it’s an heirloom piece—and her baptism will be the perfect occasion. (Yes, I know you gave up attending church services years ago, but there’s no better time to return to God, my friend.)

You asked about your mother and my last visit with her. I wish I could tell you she’s doing better than she is, but she still seems lost and confused without your father. She does try, however, and is making progress. I’ve gone out with her several times and showed her how to pump her own gas. Writing checks completely frazzles her, but she’s becoming more accustomed to it. I’ve written up a list of phone numbers and set it in a handy place in case she needs someone or something when I’m not available.

Now on to my news. Yes, it’s true, my mother is dating a priest and it looks as though they’ll marry. Eric, however, has to get some sort of dispensation from Rome and that could take a few months. They’re very much in love and despite the local gossip and the disapproval from my brothers, they intend to spend the rest of their lives together. More power to them both is what I say.

Buck was over to visit the children the other night. He stops by two and three times a week, but I’ve resisted giving him dinner. It would be far too easy to let him to slip into the habit of eating here and eventually working his way back into the family without anything ever changing.

The good news is that report cards are out and David got straight As. We celebrated with Spanish rice (his favorite) and homemade tortillas. Then Buck arrived and claimed he’d had nothing but a bowl of cornflakes for dinner. It put a damper on the entire evening. After he left, Lindy had me feeling so guilty that I made him a plate of leftovers and drove over to Tom’s place. That was a mistake. He lured me into his room and it took all my strength to refuse him sex. It would’ve been so easy to fall into bed with him, Jillian, so easy. When I’m not at work, I have no adult companionship and I’m dying of loneliness. Some nights I just crave the feel of his arms around me. We had problems in our marriage, but for the most part the sex was good.

Halfway home, I weakened. I sat and thought about it for several minutes, then decided to go back. I intended to invite him to the house for the night. I didn’t want this to become a regular thing, but I was lonely and my resolve was fragile. Oh, Jillian, what a good lesson that was! When I got to Tom’s, there was another car in the driveway. I parked and peeked in the basement window and sure enough, there was a woman with Buck. In the space of thirty minutes he had another woman in his bed!

This was exactly the prompting I needed to proceed with the divorce. This marriage is over. I’m calling Janis Bright today and filing the last of the paperwork.

I should feel a sense of relief, I suppose, but I don’t. Instead, all I feel is sad. So terribly, terribly sad.

Keep in touch, and don’t worry about your mother. She’s going to be fine, and so will I.

Love,
Lesley