Between Friends

by Debbie Macomber

  My head can’t deal with the romantic fantasy I’ve built in my heart. I’m raising four children on my own, and I’m in love with a man I only saw once for a few hours when I was still a teenager. It doesn’t make sense to feel this way about him. No man could possibly live up to the cherished memories I have of Cole. I think I’ve needed that fantasy version more than reality. After being married to Buck all those years, I pictured Cole as the ideal husband and father: loving, patient, dedicated to his children. And employed!

  I regret my lack of faith in us both. I spelled out my fears, anticipated all the problems and made a decision based on my limited experience with men. He accepted that decision, and now it’s too late. It wouldn’t be right to pop back into his life.

  It’s more than seeing Cole and reliving the grief I brought upon myself that’s getting me down. I thought this last year of school would be easier than the previous four and a half. I assumed it’d be a downhill slide from this point. I was wrong. The hours are long, the professors demanding and I’m so far in debt it’ll take me fifteen years to pay off the student loans.

  Lindy’s rebellious attitude toward me doesn’t help. I don’t know what happened between her and Buck. I suspect she asked to move in with him, but he didn’t write back, which was an answer in itself. I’ve never worried that Buck will send for any of the children or want custody. He couldn’t be bothered with them while we were married; he certainly isn’t going to let one of his children disrupt his lifestyle now. Lindy hasn’t mentioned his name in weeks and snarls whenever the boys talk about their dad. But then, her reaction to me is much the same.

  Jillian invited Lindy and me to New York this summer as a graduation gift. She’s planning to pay for our tickets, and I just might take her up on this more-than-generous offer. Mom and Eric have agreed to watch the boys for me. I haven’t said anything to Lindy yet for fear of disappointing her if it doesn’t work out. First I’ve got to get through school. Then and only then will I feel like celebrating. One thing’s for sure: I don’t want my daughter hanging around the house with nothing to do all summer. That’s a guarantee of trouble.

  David is taking Driver’s Education and is eager to get his license in September. I can’t wait! Once he’s driving, I won’t have to spend as much time taking the two younger boys to one sporting event or another. Two years ago, Buck promised to buy Davey a car. For David’s sake and mine, I hope he follows through, but I have serious doubts. Of course, David knows better than to count on anything Buck tells him. Still, hope springs eternal.

  May 20, 1982

  Dear Lesley,

  Bill and I talked it over and wanted to know if you’d agree to send Lindy to us for the summer. With me working full-time at the hospital and Bill putting in long hours at the office, we’re concerned about day care during the last part of June through August. We’d pay for her airplane ticket and give her $5.00 a day.

  Get back to me ASAP so we can make other arrangements if we need to.

  Love,

  Susan

  June 6, 1982

  City of Sitka Jail

  304 Lake Street

  Sitka, Alaska 99835

  Dear Lesley,

  I hate to ask this, but I need a loan. As you can see, I’m in a bit of a jam here. I swear to you, Les, I’ll pay you back. On my sister’s grave, I’ll find a way to get the money to you as soon as possible.

  This isn’t an easy letter to write, but I’m not afraid to admit I need help. If I don’t get out of here by Tuesday, I won’t be able to fish. If I don’t fish, I can’t pay child support. Getting me the money will help you and the kids. You know I wouldn’t ask if there was any other alternative.

  Buck

  P.S. Wire the money directly to the jail, all right? And listen, I know I’m a few months behind on child support, but I’ll make that up as soon as I’m back fishing.

  THE PRESIDENT, FACULTY AND THE GRADUATING CLASS

  OF SEATTLE UNIVERSITY, PINE RIDGE EXTENSION,

  ANNOUNCE THAT

  LESLEY L. KNOWLES

  IS A CANDIDATE FOR

  REGISTERED NURSING DEGREE

  AT THE FIFTY-FIRST COMMENCEMENT EXERCISES

  SUNDAY AFTERNOON, JUNE SIXTH

  NINETEEN HUNDRED AND EIGHTY-TWO

  AT THREE O’CLOCK

  A RECEPTION WILL FOLLOW

  THE COMMENCEMENT EXERCISES

  LESLEY KNOWLES

  June 11, 1982

  Dearest Jillian,

  I can hardly express my delight about seeing you at my graduation. I know I embarrassed myself by bursting into tears right in the middle of “Pomp and Circumstance,” but I didn’t have a clue you were doing this. To think David knew all along! You really know how to surprise a girl, don’t you?

  If all goes according to plan, Lindy and I will fly out the third week of August. She’ll be back from California then, with her babysitting money burning a hole in her pocket. I’ve always wanted to see New York, and before you suggest it, NO, I refuse to contact Cole.

  I’m so excited about this trip! But are you sure you’re going to want company so close to when the baby’s due? Let me know if you have any concerns. If you prefer, we could postpone our visit.

  Thank you for the wonderful, wonderful surprise. You were right when you said, back in 1966, that I was college material. It only took me fourteen years to prove it!

  I start working full-time with Dr. Milton immediately. Mrs. Milton is more than ready to have me take her place.

  Love,

  Lesley and all

  JILLIAN LAWTON GORDON

  331 WEST END AVENUE

  APARTMENT 1020

  NEW YORK, NY 10023

  July 7, 1982

  Dear Mom,

  Please come. I haven’t been able to stop crying since the miscarriage. Monty doesn’t know what to say to me anymore. It was a little boy, did I tell you that? It seemed like a miracle that I was pregnant again, and we were so happy. Monty and I were so thrilled. How cruel of God to do this to us. How heartless and mean to build up our hopes and then bring us such pain. I didn’t expect this, didn’t even consider that I’d lose my baby.

  You never told me you miscarried. Three times before I was born? Oh, Mom, how did you bear such grief? I feel empty inside. My arms ache to hold this child I’ll never know. I feel lost and afraid of the future. The doctors told me it was normal to grieve, but I can’t seem to let go of my son.

  I want my mother.

  Jillian

  Card on floral arrangement sent to

  Jillian Gordon

  Mt. Sinai Hospital

  Jillian, Montgomery and Leni Jo:

  I’m so very, very sorry.

  I love you. Call if you need anything.

  Lesley

  July 14, 1982

  Dear Mom and Everyone,

  Hi. I thought I’d write and let you know that everything’s all right here in Sacramento. Aunt Susan and Uncle Bill asked me to tell everyone hi from them. I thought Sacramento was on the ocean and that I’d meet some guys with surfboards. It’s not! Did you know that when you sent me here?

  I’m really sorry to hear about Aunt Jillian and her baby. I guess you’re right and this probably isn’t the best time to visit, especially with her mother there for the summer. We will visit another time, won’t we? Actually I don’t mind so much because—this will probably surprise everyone—I’ve missed being home. I’ve saved almost all my money for school clothes.

  When I get back I want to take everyone to dinner. A real sit-down restaurant, too, like Denny’s. I bought a Culture Club cassette last week, but that’s been my only extravagance. I think Boy George is radical. If you want, Doug, I can dress you like a girl, too. Just kidding!

  Has anyone heard from Dad? I wrote him from here and the letter was returned. What’s up with him?

  I get home on Friday, August 20th. Who’s going to come to the airport to pick me up? Will everyone? I miss you all. I didn’t think I would, but I do.r />
  Love,

  Lindy

  P.S. Christopher, would you like to see the movie ET? I’ll treat if you buy the popcorn.

  Barbara Lawton

  2330 Country Club Lane

  Pine Ridge, Washington 98005

  October 7, 1982

  My dearest Jillian, Montgomery and Leni Jo,

  I’m home and settling back into my normal routine. In spite of the circumstances that brought me to New York, I had an enjoyable visit. I miss you all dreadfully. The house feels empty without the sound of Leni Jo’s laughter.

  Jillian, this has been a hard summer for you with the loss of your pregnancy. Time is the great healer; it might be a cliché but it’s true. I’m glad you’re wise enough to recognize this. Taking a three-month sabbatical was exactly the right thing to do at this juncture. Learning to take care of your emotional needs is as important as anything physical. I learned that lesson after your father died.

  Grief, my children, is part of the healing process. When Leonard died, I didn’t think I could possibly recover. We’d been married forty-five years and he was as much a part of me as my own hands and feet. I felt lost without him, abandoned and confused. Those first two years of widowhood were a challenge I don’t care to repeat. I managed nicely once I found my balance, but it took quite a while. That sense of balance will come back to you, too. Be patient with yourself, deal with one day at a time and be grateful for the beautiful daughter you already have.

  Montgomery, if you don’t mind my saying so, you’re working too hard. Jillian’s been telling me this for years and I agree with her. Don’t make the same mistake Leonard did. Take care of yourself, will you?

  Leni Jo, you’re the most brilliant, beautiful grandchild in the universe. I don’t know a single three-year-old nearly as wonderful as you. I want to remind you how much your grandma Lawton loves you. I miss reading to you at bedtime and cuddling with you during our afternoon naps, but I won’t stay away long, I promise.

  Cheers will be on soon, and you know how much I enjoy that show. Mark my word. Ted Danson is going to be a big star. His costar, Shelly—oh dear, I can’t recall her surname at the moment, but she’s quite good, too.

  I’m looking forward to seeing you all at Christmas.

  Love,

  Mom

  P.S. I liked Anne Tyler’s Dinner at the Homesick Restaurant, which I read on the plane home. I’ll give it to you at Christmastime.

  P.P.S. My land, what is this world coming to that people are tainting headache pills with cyanide? Whoever’s doing this is a very sick person and should be prosecuted to the full extent of the law. I only hope that Johnson & Johnson survives this mess. God help us all.

  LESLEY KNOWLES

  November 1, 1982

  Dear Buck,

  I don’t make a habit of opening your letters to the children. You were probably counting on that. This latest letter, however, came with a Sitka County Jail stamp on the envelope. I hoped to spare them the knowledge that their father is currently incarcerated.

  How dare you blame me for your situation! I didn’t do anything to cause you to be arrested or jailed. It wasn’t me behind the wheel of that car. You were the one who got into an accident. You were the one with the high blood alcohol count. You landed behind bars without any help from me. It’s time you accepted responsibility for your own actions.

  I’ve been angry with you before, and always with good reason, but you’ve sunk lower than I dreamed possible. I refused to send you money, and now you’re asking your teenage children. It’s bad enough that you blame me for your jail sentence, but asking David to send you cigarette money is unconscionable.

  From this point forward, I will be censoring all your mail to the children. You won’t get a dime from me and you won’t get a penny from your son. As far as I’m concerned, jail is exactly where you belong.

  Lesley

  Jillian’s Journal

  November 13, 1982

  My dearest Nick,

  I watched the dedication ceremony for the Vietnam War Memorial on the news this evening. It’s stunning in its simplicity. The black granite wall has your name engraved on it, along with those of the 52,000 other young men and women killed or missing in the Vietnam War. Each life lost is marked there. Each one will be remembered and honored. I’m so grateful, Nick. I don’t want anyone to forget you or what you did. I hate it when I’m in Pine Ridge and someone mentions your name and then casually comments that you never returned from Vietnam. They don’t know that you died a hero and that because of you, other men lived.

  When I watched the news, Leni Jo was down for the night, thank goodness, and Monty wasn’t home. The tears and the grief came so fast and furious that for a few moments I was overwhelmed. I turned off the television and sat for a while, immersed in the memories.

  Oh, Nick, I loved you so much. I remember how I felt when my mother phoned to tell me your helicopter had been shot down and you’d been killed. At that point in my life, I’d never known such grief. It seems all too familiar now that my father’s gone, too, and I’ve miscarried my son. But you, Nick, oh dear God, how I’ve missed you through the years.

  My mother wrote last month soon after she returned home and said that time heals broken hearts. She’s right—it blunts the pain and allows you to go on, to create a life. But it hasn’t healed mine, Nick. It hasn’t stopped me from loving you. It hasn’t made me forget. I love my husband, but there have been nights, both before and after I married him, when I’d wake up, often in tears, because I’d been dreaming of you.

  I’ve never told anyone this, not even Lesley.

  There’s irony in all this. The newsman who gave the report was in Vietnam himself. His name is Cole Greenberg and he’s the man Lesley met in Hawaii. He’s very good at his job, but I could see he was deeply moved by the ceremony. His facial expression revealed little, but his words came from the heart. He knows. He’s been there. He saw it with his own eyes. He lived the nightmare, too.

  I can’t visit the Vietnam War Memorial now. I might never be able to stand in front of that wall without breaking down. It was hard enough saying goodbye to you the first time.

  Remember how much I love you.

  Jillian

  LESLEY KNOWLES

  November 20, 1982

  Dearest Jillian,

  I’ve been meaning to write all week, but this is the first free moment I’ve had. I can’t tell you how eager I am for your visit next month. Save as much time as you can for me, will you? I need one of our good, old-fashioned gabfests.

  This has been a quite a year, hasn’t it? A mixture of the good, the bad and everything else. You’ve been in my thoughts almost every day since June, when you lost the baby. Then I read about the dedication of the Vietnam War Memorial and realized how hard that must have hit you.

  I’ve put in a request with Dr. Milton for time off the week between Christmas and New Year’s. Following graduation, he gave me a substantial raise, which the children and I are putting to good use. I sold the trailer and paid off part of my school loans, as you know. After that, we moved into this rental home and now we have an opportunity to purchase it. I’m thrilled! The owner has made the terms very advantageous, asking for a relatively small down payment. The place is in good shape, has a yard and a convenient location. I’m so happy we can actually do this. All the kids are equally excited and they’re pulling together to make it happen.

  David is working thirty hours a week at the Albertson’s Store and still manages to get top grades. I don’t know what I’d do without him. Lindy’s a social butterfly, but she’s adding her babysitting money to the pot. Doug has David’s old paper route and Christopher is walking dogs. Together we’ll have enough for the down payment and the closing costs.

  Lindy’s attitude is a little better since she went away for the summer. She has a boyfriend, but at least he’s in school and as far as I can tell, drug-free. For her fifteenth birthday, she wants to pierce her ears. I never thought
I’d agree to that but I have. You’ve got to choose your battles and this one’s not important enough to risk our fragile truce. Can you imagine what the nuns would think if we’d pierced our ears? How times have changed! In our day, we were considered hussies if we rolled our socks down to show our ankles. We’d get kicked out of class for chewing gum, while now… Well, never mind.

  I try to spend extra time with Lindy, but that doesn’t help. She’d rather listen to her music than talk to me. It seems she’s never going to forgive me for divorcing her father. Perhaps someday she’ll understand the reasons I left Buck. I want so much for her, and I’m so afraid she’ll make the same mistakes I did.

  On to more positive news. Doug made the varsity basketball team and we had a party to celebrate. He isn’t as athletic as Christopher, but he shot hoops every night after practice. I’m really proud of him.

  I realize I’m talking about myself when it’s really you I’m anxious to hear about. I know this has been a hard five months for you and Monty.

  Write soon—and take care of yourself. You’re the only best friend I have.

  Love,

  Lesley and the kids

  P.S. I saw a bumper sticker the other day that made me smile. It said: GOD BLESS AMERICA—AND PLEASE HURRY!!!

  1986

  Jillian’s Journal

  January 1, 1986

  Dear Nick and Daddy,

  I’ll just bet you’re cheering up a storm in heaven, aren’t you, Daddy? There’s a Republican in the White House, inflation is down and there’s talk of eliminating the national debt by 1991! For the second time in my voting history, I chose to cast my ballot for the former Hollywood actor. So go ahead and gloat!

  This is going to be an exciting year. Lesley and I are attending our twenty-year class reunion in July, and Lindy will be graduating from high school. Since I’m her official godmother, I plan to be at the graduation exercise and I’ll sit proudly beside Lesley. The dates are already written in my schedule, which I’m finding more and more crowded since I was elected to the bench last year.