by Mary Tribbey
Chapter 3
After arriving home, Joan hung up her jacket and dropped exhausted into her chair. The excitement of the evening had taken a heavy toll on her emotionally. She felt wonderful that she been able to save Dave's life, but it brought back all kinds of painful memories from her childhood. She leaned her head back and let the waves of memories wash over her. She closed her eyes, and they paraded before her like phantoms from an old movie. Although Joan had only been six years old when he died, fleeting memories of her father and the love they shared came back. She struggled with the emotions she had felt just after his death and the awful, confusing days when her world had been turned upside down. Since her mother had died when she was born, her dad had been everything to her. She had no other family. She could almost hear him speaking to her, “We’re a team, Joan, and we’ll always be a team.”
Joan cried again for her father and for the terrible years that followed his death. Since she had no other family, Joan became a ward of the court. She was placed in foster care. There had been so many foster homes over the years that most of them blended together. Some of them had not been too bad; but it seemed that every time she started feeling at home, it was time for her to move on to another strange new family. A few had been so terrible that she tried to push their memory from her mind. The last one as a teenager had been the most frightening. In the last one, her foster father had made sexual advances towards her. She always managed to get away before anything ‘really bad’ happened, but she couldn't wait until she was 18 and old enough to get away from all of the foster homes. In most of the places, she had not been abused. They had mostly been basically good people, but she never felt like she belonged anywhere or to anyone. Her teachers and school mates described her as a loner. That really wasn't what she wanted, but it hurt so much to constantly be uprooted from one place to another. It was too emotionally painful to leave a group of ‘friends’ and then struggle to make a new set of friends in another unfamiliar place. She eventually stopped trying to make friends at all. Being a loner made leaving easier. The problem was it made her feel even lonelier and out of place.
When Joan was 17, she met Larry Walker. He was 17 also, and he was so much like her that they just naturally seemed drawn to each other. He also felt left out, unwanted, a loner, just like her. Over the months of their senior year, they had started dating. For the first time since her father's death, she felt there was someone who cared about her, who loved her and needed her as much as she needed him. In spite of pressure from her foster parents, they began dating, openly at first, and then by sneaking out when her foster father tried to separate them. It was after one of their dates that her foster father tried to rape her. She managed to get away, but she vowed never to return to that home again.
She went to see Larry, because she had no one else to turn to. When she told Larry what it had almost happened, he convinced her that they should run away and get married. He was 18, almost 19, and she was almost 18.
“We love each other. I’ll take care of you. You mean everything in the world to me,” he promised as he held her close. It was that night when they first made love. She gave all her love to Larry and agreed to run away with him and get married. The next day Joan drew out all the money she had saved from her after school job and they left for Las Vegas. She had a fake ID that showed her age to be 18.
Larry's old Chevy chugged along all the way to Nevada. They went to one of the wedding chapels on the strip and, with hearts filled with love and hope; they exchanged their promise to love each other forever. The thought of Larry and the first few months of their marriage were too beautiful and too painful to be endured.
Joan sobbed and then began pacing the floor. It had been a real struggle to make ends meet, but they had each other and nothing else mattered. Larry worked in a gas station, and Joan had a job as a waitress at a small truck stop café. They pooled their money together and managed to pay their rent and even had a little left over for an occasional evening at the movies. How tender and gentle Larry had been. Joan smiled as she remembered how he had left little notes for her before he went to work. Sometimes he slipped one into her purse, and she didn't find it until she was at work. Life seemed perfect with Larry's loving presence.
She remembered how Larry had fussed at her for not going to the doctor when she was feeling sick. He kept saying, “We can afford it. Your health is important to me. I've made an appointment for you this afternoon. You’d better show up,” he threatened, “or I’ll take off work and drive you there myself!”
“All right. You win, Larry. I'll go see the doctor, but it's a waste of money. I probably just have a touch of the flu,” she griped.
“I don't care. I can't stand seeing you feeling so tired and sick all the time. I love you,” he reminded her, giving her a big hug.
Joan felt like screaming when Dr. Thompson insisted, “Joan, this definitely isn't the flu. I can’t be completely sure until the results of the blood test come back, but I'm almost positive that you're pregnant.”
When the test results came back, it was true. She was going to have a baby. When Larry got home that night, she wanted to tell him, but she was afraid. “We have barely enough money to make ends meet now, how can we afford a baby?” she fretted. The thought of having Larry’s baby thrilled her, but she was scared, too. When she finally told him, Larry grabbed her and swung her around in a big exuberant hug. Then he put her down and started treating her like a fragile china doll. “I love you, Joan, I’m so happy! I feel like going up on the rooftop and shouting the news to everyone that I’m going to be a father!” he crowed.
“But Larry, we can’t afford it,” Joan cried.
“Don't worry, honey, I’ll get a second job. I'll take care of you and the baby. We will work it out together,” he reassured her.
They both worked harder, and scrimped and saved for the baby and for the doctor bills. It was a time of hard work and sacrifice, but Joan looked back on it as the happiest time of her life
Joan clearly remembered the day the letter came that changed the course of their lives forever. Larry’s draft notice arrived. He was being called up to go into the army. It was a troubled time in America. The nation was split over the Vietnam War, but Larry refused to run off to Canada like many other men were doing.
“I really don’t want to go off and leave you, especially now with you being pregnant, but I have to do it,” he insisted. “The money the Army pays is more than I can make from these two, crummy jobs I’ve got here. Besides, while I'm in the army, I can get some training. When I get out, I’ll get a good job, and you won't ever have to work anymore. I hate leaving you now, but maybe I'll get assigned somewhere around here, and you can join me there. We’ll survive. Don't worry. I'll always take care of you. Do you know how much I love you?” he asked.
Joan understood. There were many things she didn't know or trust, but she knew Larry's love was real and he was all that mattered in her life. Besides, they had no choice. He had to go; she would stay home and take care of the baby, and he would be as proud of her as she was of him.
Within two weeks, he was gone. He did his basic training at Fort Ord, California. She splurged and went out to see him when he finished his basic training. They spent his leave day and night in a small motel near Santa Cruz. It was cheap and not terribly clean, but it seemed like heaven being with Larry again. She was looking pregnant by now. Since the morning sickness had stopped, she felt better than ever, and Larry kept telling her how beautiful she looked. She felt happy that weekend.
She hated going home alone. The day after she got home, Larry called. He told her his orders had been received. He’d been turned down for officer training school. He and his whole unit were being shipped out the next week for Vietnam. He'd been assigned to the communications unit to set up small field radio communication stations. It was an important job, and he was
so excited. He loved tinkering with electronic things.
“Just think of it! When I get out, I can do radio and TV repair work. We’ll be rolling in money then. Please take care of yourself. I’ll write you as soon as I can. I love you,” Larry repeated over the phone just before he shipped out.
Joan closed her eyes. She tried to remember exactly how his voice had sounded, but it been too long ago. All she could remember is how empty she felt after hanging up the phone that day.
Every day, after work, Joan rushed home and checked the mail. If there was a letter, the day seemed bright; when there wasn't, she felt tired and lonely. She continued working, even volunteering to work additional shifts, to earn extra money for the baby-to-be. Since there was no one to go home to, Joan worked more and more hours. She took a part-time job in a small convenience store. By the time she got home from working the two jobs, she fell into bed too tired to feel anything.
She remembered being awakened one day from a deep sleep by a loud knock on her door. Groggily she walked over and peeked out. Two tall men in army uniforms stood outside. She brushed the hair back from her face and opened the door, not knowing that her world was about to collapse.
“Mrs. Walker,” one man asked. “Are you married to Private Larry Walker?”
“Yes, how can I help you?” she asked.
“May we come in? We need to talk to you.” After they walked in, they stood awkwardly by the door. “I don't…,” the taller man hesitated as he stammered nervously.
“What's wrong? Is something wrong with Larry?” she demanded
“I'm sorry to tell you this, but he's missing in action. The hill he was defending was captured by the Vietcong. His body has not been found, so he may still be alive. We’re still searching for him, but, at this time, we’re not hopeful that he will be found alive.”
