chapter ELEVEN
SATURDAY, NOVEMBER 14, 1964
Married life is not as glamorous as some probably think it is. In fact, it’s not much different than not being married, except Curtis and I live under the same roof. Some of the girls at school say they envy me, others say some not-so-nice things, but I don’t let it get to me. I’m happier than I’ve ever been in my life. Mostly.
Curtis received a letter from his brother Gerald today. It basically said that Curtis shouldn’t wait to see if he gets drafted, but rather he needs to enlist. Since he graduated from high school back in May, it’s a real possibility that he’ll be forced to go in. This scares me more than anything, but I know how Curtis feels. He wants to defend his country and I respect that. He worries about Gerald and I understand that, too. Doesn’t mean I like it.
Since we’re living in the guesthouse behind his mother’s house, it’s a little bit lonely. Especially when Curtis is working on the ranch. I can’t imagine what it’ll be like if I have to be here without him if he goes away. When I asked him what he was going to do, he said he didn’t know. I think he’s going to sign up and not only because Gerald said he should.
I think he’s thinking about it because of me.
Because of us.
Although we’ve been married for fifteen months now, we still haven’t consummated the marriage. He keeps telling me that I’m not ready. Sometimes I agree with him, other times I don’t. He’s started telling me that I’m too young (which infuriates me), but I know arguing with him won’t make a difference. And sometimes it’s easier to think he’s right.
As far as Curtis was concerned, coming home to see Lorrie every day rather than walking her to her parents’ house seemed to be the only difference between being married and not being married. That and the fact that he was out of high school, and she had just started the new school year a couple months ago. Because he was working from sunup to sundown, Joseph was taking her to and from school with him, which was a relief.
Since the day they’d wed at the justice of the peace, they had lived together. He wouldn’t lie and say it hadn’t been easier when they had lived with his mother. More so than since they had moved into the small guesthouse almost thirteen months ago.
He had a wife. He had a house. He had a washing machine. And he had a shit ton of land. The latter was still odd to think about, but he couldn’t seem to stop. Not only had his life changed because he’d become Lorrie’s husband, he had also started working full time on the ranch and taken over the finances. Math was certainly not his strong suit, but his responsibility nonetheless, so he did what needed to be done.
It seemed he’d gone from being a relatively carefree kid to an adult way too fast. He wasn’t regretting his decision, because he loved Lorrie. Loved her more than words could express, but up to this point had been hard. A lot harder than he’d thought it would be. His mother had warned him that he shouldn’t have high expectations for the first few years. After all, Lorrie was still young. They both were. Mary Elizabeth had told him they should simply focus on growing up. The rest would come with time.
Except Curtis was beginning to have doubts. Doubts that he could make Lorrie truly happy. He had money, could buy her anything she wanted, but he knew Lorrie. She didn’t want him to buy her things. Hell, it had taken an act of congress to convince her that they needed a new bed, that they couldn’t sleep in the bed in his old bedroom. And when he had wanted to buy a television, she had put her foot down. Which, now that he thought about it, had been pretty damned cute.
“You got another letter from Gerald,” Lorrie announced when she walked into the house. “Your mother asked me to give it to you.”
Smiling, Curtis took the letter as he sat on the couch and stared at the wall.
“You okay?” she asked, coming to sit beside him.
Curtis put his arm around her shoulder and pulled her to his side. He loved the feel of her against him, but her proximity never failed to set his body on fire. He wanted to touch her so badly, wanted to make love to her the way a husband and a wife were supposed to. But she wasn’t ready, and she’d made that abundantly clear, even if she didn’t realize it.
The first few nights they’d spent in the house had been the worst, but she had finally seemed to relax. At that point, he had attempted to get a little closer, which had only set them back once again.
One night, she had even tried to convince him that they would be better off if she started sleeping on the couch. That had been his turn to put his foot down. Although he insisted that she sleep in their bed with him, Curtis had made the decision to hold off on sex until he knew she was capable of embracing it and him.
Abstaining was a hell of a lot harder than it sounded. Thankfully, Lorrie never asked why his showers were a little longer than necessary. And he didn’t tell her.
“Are you gonna open it?”
Curtis glanced at the envelope in his hand. He knew what it was going to say. The same thing Gerald had been preaching to him about in every letter he’d received for the past six months. According to his older brother, it was time for him to do what was right, time for him to enlist.
Kissing Lorrie’s temple, Curtis closed his eyes. He didn’t necessarily want to go into the Army, or any branch of the military, for that matter. He didn’t want to leave Lorrie, wasn’t sure how he would survive without seeing her every day. But part of him knew that it would be for the best. He could sign up, go away, give her some time to grow up on her own, to enjoy still being a kid. Their marriage would still be intact, but it wouldn’t be looming over her at ever turn.
Lorrie took the envelope from his hand and opened the flap, pulling out the thin sheet of paper and unfolding it before passing it over.
“I’ll let you read it,” she whispered, kissing his cheek before getting up and wandering into the kitchen.
With a heavy sigh, Curtis took the letter and peered down at the page.
Curtis,
I figure you’re tired of hearing from me by now, but I’m not going to let that deter me. I talked to Momma the other day, and she told me that you and Lorrie are doing okay. I could tell by her voice that she’s worried about the two of you, so I asked her why. Maybe it’s none of my business, but I’m making it my business because you’re my kid brother. I’m allowed to.
Curtis smiled. Leave it to Gerald to call him a kid.
I’ve mentioned it a hundred times, and I’m going to mention it again. You should enlist in the Army. Not only because you owe it to your country, but also because you owe it to yourself and to Lorrie. I understand the reason you married her—and I’m not saying it wasn’t because you love her. Momma says that you do, and I believe her—but you have to keep in mind that she’s still young. She just turned sixteen, right? She’s still a kid, and she deserves to grow up before she’s saddled with the responsibility of being a rancher’s wife.
Curtis didn’t appreciate his brother’s high and mighty attitude, but he couldn’t disagree. Even though he wanted to.
I’m going to give you a little advice. Don’t wait for the draft. Don’t wait to find out if you’re going to be forced to serve for your country. That’s a guaranteed two years, and more than likely you’ll be in infantry. If you enlist, the chances of you seeing combat are significantly less. There are plenty of positions that you can sign up for. Doesn’t mean you’ll stay in the States, but at least you won’t necessarily be in the infantry. Unless, of course, this is what you want.
What I’m trying to tell you, Curtis, is that you can give Lorrie time to grow up. If your love is as strong as you believe it is, it’ll survive these years apart. It’ll be good for you. Good for her. Please think about it.
~G
It was impossible for Curtis not to consider taking his brother’s advice. He and Lorrie had only been married for a little over a year. Fifteen months in a lifetime was nothing, and yet it already seemed as though they’d set themselves up for failure. Curtis knew Lorrie hadn’t been ready for marriage when they’d said I do, but he appreciated her love for him and the fact that she would do whatever it took to make him happy.
Setting the letter on his leg, Curtis leaned his head back and closed his eyes. And for the first time since the day he’d spoken to her on his mother’s front porch, he knew that putting some space between them was the only way that this was going to work.
Which meant he had to do this. Even if it might just break her heart. And his.
When Mrs. Walker had asked Lorrie to give that letter to Curtis, she’d felt a band tighten around her heart. She’d known it was from Gerald, and she’d known what it was going to say. The same thing every letter from him had said since the day Gerald had learned that she and Curtis had married.
Gerald thought it would be best for Curtis to go into the service.
Lorrie didn’t agree.
However, she had to admit that her feelings were entirely selfish. She didn’t want Curtis to go away. She didn’t want to have to spend her days without him. If he did go, where would that leave her? She couldn’t live here by herself. She had no way to support herself. What if she had to quit school and go to work? Where would she work? What would she do? She knew how to type a little. Maybe she could do that.
As she stood in the kitchen, trying to give Curtis some privacy to read his letter, she watched him. He looked torn as he stared at the page. It broke her heart that he might be considering it, but she understood. And she also understood that it wouldn’t be simply his willingness to fight for his country that would drive him away.
It was her.
It was them.
It was the fact that she was sixteen and they were married. She was still in high school, still merely a kid in so many ways, though she no longer felt like a kid.
She swallowed hard.
Regardless of his decision, she decided right then and there that she would support Curtis wholeheartedly. Whatever his decision, she would accept it, and she would make herself understand his reasons.
Because she loved him.
And nothing would ever change that.