Between Friends (20 page)

Cole and I did have dinner and it was good to see him again. He looks well and happy. He’s retiring June first, but I’ll believe it when I see it. He’s too much of a workaholic. As we chatted over a glass of wine, I realized we don’t have much in common. We never really did. Part of what I saw in him—what attracted me most—was his insight into world events. I encouraged him, when he retires, to write about Vietnam and the changes since then. I told him he could be the Stephen Ambrose of our generation. He thanked me for that, and said it wasn’t the first time he’d thought of becoming a writer. I hope he does.

One benefit of my stay is that I found the most beautiful pearl necklace for Lindy’s wedding. What a thoughtful husband you are to think of such a lovely gift for my daughter on her wedding day.

I’ll be home soon, my love. I miss you so much.

Lesley

***

March 30, 1997

Dearest Aunt Jillian,

I hope you’re home from the hospital and feeling better now. Will you still be visiting Pine Ridge for your friend’s daughter’s wedding in June? I hope so. It would be cool to see you again. It’s always good to see you.

I’m taking driver’s education and should have my license by then, so if you need a ride anywhere just say the word. I’d love to be your chauffeur.

Your Niece,

Nickie Lynn Murphy

P.S. Mom and Dad send their love.

***

Peter Punch

Texas Parole Board
2190 Turtle Creek Road
Fort Worth, Texas 76105

April 5, 1997

Dear Lindy Knowles,

I’m writing in response to your query concerning the whereabouts of your father, David “Buck” Knowles. My last contact with him was in April 1996.

I regret to inform you that he died in a homeless shelter in November of last year. He was cremated by the city of Fort Worth.

Sincerely,

Peter Punch

***

Lesley Milton
From: Jillian Gordon To: Lesley Milton Sent: April 25, 1997 Subject: Re: Buck

Dearest Lesley,

I’m sorry to hear the news about Buck, but as you said, it’s not really a shock. What a terrible way for Lindy to find out about her father’s death. The boys might have reacted with more nonchalance, but I agree with you, it’s bound to have an impact on them.

What about you, Lesley? You must’ve felt something, too. You were married to Buck for a lot of years and he is the father of your children. If you need to talk this out, give me a call.

Have you been watching the news from Grand Forks, ND? Those poor people! The town was half-underwater and everything that wasn’t submerged was on fire. I happened to catch the CNN newscast, and you’ll never guess who was reporting. Didn’t you say Cole was retiring this year? Well, it appears he decided to hold off for a while. Same as you, I’ll believe he’s retired when I see it.

I’m feeling much better, thank you. Tell Lindy I wouldn’t miss her wedding for the world. I sure as hell am not going to let a little thing like cancer keep me away!

I haven’t met Leni Jo’s male friend yet. Leave it to my levelheaded daughter to fall in love with an unemployed musician. I’m getting a taste of what my parents must have thought when I announced that I was in love with Nick and wanted to marry him. Nick, however, was employed! Paul Robbins isn’t. I’ll give you more details about this Bob Dylan wannabe when I hear them.I suppose it could be worse.

Love,

Jillian

Lesley’s Journal

June 6, 1997

In a few hours, Steven will escort my daughter down the church aisle and Lindy will marry a good and wonderful man. I couldn’t have found anyone better suited for her had I launched my own search! It’s so clear to me that God’s hand is on her and on this marriage.

Despite my certainty and happiness about the wedding, I’m a mass of nerves. I suppose every mother of the bride feels that way.

Lindy’s wedding, the conviction of Timothy McVeigh for the horrible bombing in Oklahoma City a couple of years ago and the news of Buck’s death are all keeping me awake. In light of all the bad news in this world, my ex-husband’s death seems insignificant. Buck and I had been divorced more years than we were ever married, yet the news of his death hit me hard. It’s understandable, I suppose. I loved Buck at one time, and he fathered all four of my children.

How I wish his life could have been different. I wanted better for him. Even after all the heartache and grief he brought me, I still had some feelings for Buck. I didn’t believe it until Jillian asked me how I was taking the news. As I read her e-mail, the tears started to drip down my face. Once I started crying, I couldn’t stop for the longest time.

What upset me so badly, I think, is that Buck had completely disassociated himself from the children and me. We didn’t even know when he died. There was nothing on his person, nothing he carried with him, to link him to us. The letter stated that he lived in a homeless shelter. I find that difficult to accept.

The father of my children had sunk so low that he could no longer function in society. All I can say is I hope he found peace in death, because it was sadly missing from his life.

The boys accepted the news without any open display of emotion. Christopher was so young when we divorced that he barely remembers Buck. David and Doug and Lindy remember him, though. All her life Lindy’s made excuses for her father. All her life she defended him to her brothers and me.

When she brought me the letter from Buck’s parole officer, her face was expressionless, as if she’d always known it would come to this, in spite of her hope that his life could be salvaged. I’m grateful Jordan was with her when she opened the envelope. She’s going to be all right, I think, and so am I.

Within a few hours, my daughter will be Jordan’s wife. Steven will fill in as her father. She was the one who made the request that he walk her down the aisle. I know that meant a great deal to him. For a long time, Lindy made it abundantly clear that she never wanted me to remarry. She still held out hope that Buck and I would reconcile. My little girl has done a lot of growing up in the last few years, and I’m very, very proud of her.

As a matter of interest, Cole Greenberg reported the news of the Timothy McVeigh trial. I don’t think he’ll ever retire. He’s just not the type. I did notice something interesting, however. He’s no longer with CNN. I saw him on the Fox News Channel. I wonder what that’s all about.

***

Paul Robbins

From: Leni Jo Gordon To: Paul Robbins Sent: June 8, 1997 Subject: Lindy’s Wedding

Dearest Paul,

The wedding was so romantic. Lindy was a beautiful bride. My mom had tears in her eyes when Lindy walked down the aisle.

I can only imagine Mom’s reaction when she hears about you and me. No, I haven’t told her that we plan to get married next year. Not yet. It’d freak her out.

This being apart is awful. I miss you, too, and I promise to e-mail you every day I’m in Washington State.

Love,

Leni Jo

***

September 15, 1997

Dear Mom and Steven, Julie and I want to invite you to dinner next week if you’re available. We have a surprise for you both. Mom, it’s time to bring out those knitting needles again. I hope you’re planning on being around in February.

Love,

Doug and Julie

Jillian’s Journal

November 20, 1997

Dearest Nick,

It’s been years since I last wrote you. I gave it up shortly after Monty died, but since my surgery and the dream, I feel closer to you than ever. Each night as I settle my head on the pillow and close my eyes, it’s almost as if you’re there with me. My mind is filled with thoughts of you. The dream keeps playing back in my mind: what you said, what you implied, what you promised. I’ve held on to as much of it as I could.

I used to be so impatient. That’s been an unexpected benefit of having cancer—I’ve developed a whole new perspective on the meaning of time. Things that seemed terribly important a year ago have faded in significance—and vice versa. I’ve learned that small things matter—the moment of laughter, the beauty of autumn leaves, the sensation of wind on my face. You know what I mean, don’t you?

I think a lot of people have felt that way since Princess Diana died. The news of her death touched everyone. There’s been an almost unprecedented outpouring of grief, worldwide. It seems as though people needed that collective release of emotion, as though this was more than a response to one individual death.

The world is vastly different from the one you left behind. Everything happens at the speed of light. The Internet is capable of far more than relaying messages. People are online for every conceivable reason. There’s even this site where people can auction items and you wouldn’t believe what’s being sold. War medals (which bothers me and would no doubt upset you, as well), Elvis albums, even Texaco signs from the 50s.

This year a sheep was cloned and just yesterday a 29-year-old woman gave birth to seven children. Our lives are being affected every day by scientific and technological change, and that is ever constant. Still, the one thing that remains steadfast through everything is love. That’s the message you gave me, isn’t it?

Leni Jo is head over heels in love and I’m biting my tongue to keep from saying things I shouldn’t. I wanted someone a little more sensible, more stable, than this musician. Paul is very sweet and talented, but he isn’t exactly brimming with ambition.

Just tonight, Leni Jo phoned to tell me they want to get married. I tried to remain calm, but I’m not sure how successful I was. Thankfully, she promised not to do anything until we’ve had a chance to talk. I’d be a whole lot more comfortable if Paul had a job!

Then I think about the two of us and how impossible we thought my parents were when we announced our feelings for each other. I told my dad in no uncertain terms how badly I wanted to marry you. Now history’s repeating itself (well, sort of) in my daughter. Amazing, isn’t it, how I’ve been given the opportunity to view this situation from the perspective of a parent? I wonder who said God didn’t have a sense of humor.

2000

Jillian’s Journal

January 1, 2000

For the first time in years, I stayed up past midnight to celebrate the New Year. Leni Jo insisted I should, and she was right. Like everyone else, I got caught up in all the hoopla surrounding the new millennium.

Fortunately, the dreaded Y2K bug didn’t turn into the disaster the experts had predicted. If the world’s computers had crashed, some of them would not have been missed—especially the ones having to do with government. I’m beginning to sound cynical, but it’s hard not to, after the last year, during which the entire country was preoccupied with Clinton’s affair. The impeachment process took months and millions of dollars, which could have been better spent. I blame Clinton for that waste. In fact, given his intellectual gifts, I consider much of his time in office a wasted opportunity. Good Republican that my father was, I imagine he’s frothing at the mouth because of the corruption that’s come out of the Clinton presidency. As for me, I’ve lost faith in both parties.

New Year’s Eve was an incredible experience in New York! Gary, Leni Jo and I had a late dinner, then sheer madness overtook us and we joined the throng in Times Square. I couldn’t believe I agreed to this, but I was just as excited as everyone else. Leni Jo said we’d regret it our entire lives if we didn’t go. Years from now, she wants me to be able to tell my grandchildren I was there to celebrate the big moment, when New York ushered out one millennium and welcomed in the next. How grateful I am that I could spend this New Year’s with my daughter and Gary.

I will admit that this is a wonderful time to be alive. When I think back over all I’ve seen in my 51 years, I stand amazed. I remember how thrilled my father was about the transistor radio. My great-aunt Jillian crossed the prairie in a covered wagon when she was just an infant, and before she died in the mid-60s, she flew in a jet plane. All of this in one lifetime!

When Leni Jo and I returned to the apartment, Gary wished us both a good night, and then my daughter and I sat up for another hour, talking. Time for just the two of us is a rarity these days and much to be valued.

My daughter is content and has been able to put the unhappy events of last year behind her. She loves her job as an assistant curator at Sotheby’s. Leni Jo has always had a deep appreciation of antiques, especially china and porcelain. This position is the perfect blend of history and beauty, of art and business. She has a trip to London scheduled this spring and wants me to tag along. She’ll be meeting an associate in the London office with whom she obviously has a good working relationship. Her job has been a source of strength and pleasure during the turmoil in her personal life this past year.

Paul broke her heart. It was inevitable. I saw how ill-suited they were early on in the relationship, but Leni Jo had to discover this for herself. Difficult as it is to sit back and watch one’s child suffer, there are certain life lessons that can only be taught by experience. I grieved with her, although I suspected from the beginning that Paul wasn’t the right man for her. Soon, and I believe this with all my heart, she’ll rush home to tell me she’s met someone utterly wonderful who shares her interests and appreciates the woman she is.

Leni Jo’s relationship with Paul led me to do some soul-searching about my first love. If Nick hadn’t been killed, what would have become of our relationship? I couldn’t help wondering if we would’ve eventually parted, like Leni Jo and Paul. Somehow, I couldn’t make myself believe it. Even now, all these years later, Nick remains with me, a part of me. I love him so intensely that I’ve been unable to visit the Vietnam War Memorial. I just can’t do it. (But I’ve promised myself that one day, I will.)

I’ll be fifty-two on the 15th. My health is good, with no sign that the cancer is recurring. I get a shock every now and then when I happen to catch my reflection in a mirror. After the chemo, my hair grew in completely gray. Still, I’ve purposely left it that color, as a reminder of everything I’ve experienced. (Actually I think it gives me a dignified appearance!) I’m well aware that I look very much the middle-aged woman I am. Gary likes it and compliments me often.