“My mother’s coming for a visit next week,” he said. “She wanted to make sure she’d get to meet my girlfriend.”
He peeked at me sideways with a silly grin on his face.
“You mean me?” I asked.
“Of course I do.”
“I’m your girlfriend?” I couldn’t help but smile. It felt so good to be happy.
“If you want to be.”
“Sure I do.”
He leaned toward me and I took in a sip of breath before he pressed his lips against mine. It was short but as perfect as I could have ever imagined. When I opened my eyes, his face was still so close. I couldn’t help but giggle a little.
“Was that all right?” he asked, touching my cheek.
I answered by grabbing a handful of his shirt and pulling him in for just one more kiss. It was longer than the first, but only slightly. I still wasn’t sure if I was doing it right.
“I sure do like you, Annie Jacobson,” he said.
“Why?” I asked.
“Because you are unlike anyone else in all the world.” He winked at me. “I mean that in a good way.”
He stood and took both of my hands, raising me to my feet.
Mike would have approved of David. I had no doubts.
“Do you want to come over for dinner?” I asked. “Frank’s grilling burgers.”
He nodded. “I can walk you home.”
“All right,” I said. “Just give me a minute, okay? I’ll be right there.”
He let go of my hands and I watched him walk to the end of the dock.
From where I stood I could see the house we’d lived in when I was a little girl, the dock jutting out into the water. I imagined my younger self sitting there, beside Frank, each of us with a cup of coffee in hand. His black and mine mostly milk and sugar.
Then I pictured my little-girl self alone, waiting for him to come back. I still felt the loneliness of those days, just after Frank went away.
All those years later, on that late March day, I realized I’d never been alone after all. My Father had been there all along, smiling sunshine at me from behind the clouds.
I turned, joining David at the end of the dock.
Author’s Note and Acknowledgments
I was a snoopy child. Once in my rummaging I happened upon an envelope addressed to my mom, written in my dad’s unique penmanship. The envelope was different, one sent via airmail. I knew straightaway that it had been sent from Vietnam.
I didn’t read the letter. Somehow I knew that the words weren’t for me. Even in a family of six, there needed to be some things kept sacred. Tucking it back in the box was the right thing to do. It wasn’t long before my curiosity became captivated by something else and I’d forgotten about that letter.
In 2015 I was in the midst of edits for a Dust Bowl–era novel that was to release and dreaming up what might be next after I finished a trio of stories about a young girl from Oklahoma. That was when I picked up a book called Dear America: Letters Home from Vietnam compiled and edited by Bernard Edelman.
As I read, I remembered the letter I’d found—long gone by then, I was sure. I thought about how young my dad was when he’d sent it, how young many of the boys who fought in Vietnam were, and how they each had families that worried and prayed from home.
It was then that I knew my next story would find its setting in 1967.
My stack of books reflected my curiosity into the events of the Vietnam War: In Pharaoh’s Army by Tobias Wolff, After the Flag Has Been Folded by Karen Spears Zacharias, The Things They Carried by Tim O’Brien, We Were Soldiers Once . . . and Young by Harold G. Moore and Joseph L. Galloway, among many others. I watched countless documentaries, chief among them being Vietnam in HD and The Vietnam War by Ken Burns and Lynn Novick.
Fortunately, it wasn’t by my efforts alone that All Manner of Things became the story you hold now. I owe a debt of gratitude to so many for the part they played in making the Jacobson family’s story come to life. This isn’t just a book I wrote, it’s a novel that belongs to all of us. I cannot imagine a greater community to share it with.
Bruce Matthews: Your knowledge of all things loony (of the bird variety, of course) helped add a layer of meaning to this book that I could not have come up with on my own. Thank you, too, for your encouragement and checking with me often to see how the sixties novel was coming along.
Karl Rewa: Sitting with you over cups of coffee to talk about your time in Vietnam and life after gave me such insight, particularly into the characters of Frank and Walt. Whenever I sat down to write their characters, I remembered what you said. “Tell them that what went on over there, what we had to do, it’s not who we are. It’s something that happened to us. That’s all.” Thank you for that.
The Pipping family: Gerri, I will never forget sitting at your table to hear your story of immigrating from the Netherlands. If I’d not met you, I doubt I could have written the character Oma. Gary and Adria, I so appreciate your insight into what it means to be Dutch American. Beth, thank you for sharing your family with me. They really are the sweetest.
Nancee Marchinowski: Much love, my friend, and lots of thanks for sharing about your life in 1960s West Michigan. You are a treasure to me.
Mom: Thanks for letting me pick your brain about details from how you did your hair in 1967 to what it was like to watch footage of the war on the news. I sure hope I got it right. And thanks for refining my musical taste by playing Simon & Garfunkel, the Beatles, and Aretha Franklin, to name a few. You introduced me to the soundtrack for this novel. You sure are peachy keen.
Dad: I can’t think of any other father who would write up his war memoirs to help his daughter research the way you did. I can’t tell you what that means to me. It’s a document that wasn’t just helpful in the writing of this book, but is a record of our family heritage. Thank you for sharing it with me.
Tim Beals: A million thanks for believing enough in Annie’s story to pitch it on my behalf. Your enthusiasm for this project has been such an encouragement to me. Thank you.
Kelsey Bowen: As soon as I learned that I would have the opportunity to work with you as my editor, I knew that it would be a special relationship. You have not disappointed, my friend. Thank you for believing in me and loving the Jacobson family every bit as much as I do. Here’s to many more stories told together.
Kristin Kornoelje: Your eagle eyes caught more errant commas than I’d like to admit. I appreciate your discerning edits. You certainly make me look smart.
Gayle Raymer: When I wrote Fort Colson into being I never imagined that a cover designer could capture my daydreams quite as perfectly as you have done. Because of you, I sure hope readers judge this book by its cover.
Michele Misiak, Karen Steele, Hannah Brinks and the rest of the wonderful Revell team: I hope you all know how dearly I love you for working so hard to get this novel into the world. It has been a joy to work with you from the very moment I signed the contract. I count myself blessed.
Chris Jager, Darron Schroeder, Sue Smith, and the rest of my Baker Book House family: You give me a place to sit and write, you give my books space on the shelf, you make me smile when I’m feeling the stresses of deadlines, you are cheerleaders of the best sort. Where would I be without all of you?
My friends: Your prayers, notes, hugs, and emails have kept me going. Alexis De Weese, Anne Ferris, Ash Nibbe, Betsy Carter, Catie Cordero, Jocelyn Green, Karee Mouw, Michelle Alvarez, Nicky Bower, Sarah Geelhoed, Shelly Hendricks, and Sonny Huisman. I can’t imagine life without each of you.
Elise, Austin, and Tim: Thanks for jamming out to the Beatles, Jimi Hendrix, and Aretha Franklin with me. I’m convinced that you three are the coolest kids on the planet.
Jeff: You always have and always will be my favorite reader. I love you.
Finally, to Jesus, who knows our grief and suffering, our sorrow and longing yet offers us the promise that all will be well. Maybe not today, tomorrow, or for a long time. But som
eday. This is our hope.
Susie Finkbeiner is the CBA bestselling author of A Cup of Dust, A Trail of Crumbs, and A Song of Home. She serves on the Breathe Christian Writers Conference planning committee, volunteers her time at Ada Bible Church in Grand Rapids, Michigan, and speaks at retreats and women’s events across the state. Susie and her husband have three children and live in West Michigan.
SusieFinkbeiner.com
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Table of Contents
Cover
Endorsements
Half Title Page
Title Page
Copyright Page
Dedication
Contents
Epigraph
Prologue
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Author’s Note and Acknowledgments
About the Author
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