Between Friends

by Debbie Macomber

Dear Buck,

  Seeing that you won’t phone me and have dropped out of the bowling league, you give me no choice but to write you a letter. The last time you stopped off at the house, I told you I was late. You acted like it didn’t worry you and said that you were crazy about me. I was stupid enough to believe you. I’m still late and the virus I picked up appears to be the nine-month variety. I’m pregnant, Buck, going on two months, and I want to know what you intend to do about it.

  Moose finally broke down and told me you’re married. That’s just hunky-dory! You might’ve mentioned it. Later I learned I’m not the only woman you’ve fooled around with behind your wife’s back. Denise Gavin told me all about your fling with her, only she was married herself. Well, I’m not married and I didn’t know you were. If I’d known, you can bet we’d never have ended up in bed together, but it doesn’t matter now. Right? You got what you wanted, and then some. Congratulate yourself because you fooled me into believing you actually cared.

  I went to a clinic and found out an abortion will cost $150. Either I receive the full amount by next Monday or I’m going directly to your wife. I wonder if she realizes her husband sleeps around? First Denise and now me, and God knows how many others. Maybe it’s time someone told your wife exactly what kind of man you are.

  Terri

  April 11, 1973

  Lesley,

  Let’s make one thing clear right now. There’s no way in hell I’m moving out of this trailer. It was thanks to my sweat and blood that we made each and every one of those payments. If you’re so keen on filing for divorce, go ahead, but I’m keeping what’s mine, including the trailer. You can have the kids and what you need for them, but everything else is my property. Blame me if you want for what happened with Terri, but a man needs a real woman in his bed, not one who’s constantly worried about getting pregnant.

  If you insist on leaving, I say fine. Just go.

  Like you said, there’s no reason for us to talk again. That’s fine by me, too. Have your attorney contact me. One question—how are you going to afford an attorney? I can tell you right now, I’m not paying for it.

  Buck

  April 14, 1973

  Dearest Jillian,

  The siege at Wounded Knee is finally over, and the news is filled with talk of the break-in at Watergate and President Nixon’s involvement. I wish I could tell you that my own life has settled down, but it’s gone from bad to worse. For once, the house is quiet. The kids are all sleeping and the television is off. I’m not writing this from home, though. The kids and I are doubled up with my brother Mike, who recently moved back from California. He’s letting us stay with him until things get straightened out between Buck and me. There are five of us in a one-bedroom apartment, so you can imagine what it’s been like for the past few days.

  This letter is to tell you what’s been happening and also to apologize. I’ve owed you an apology for nearly eight years. Do you remember the summer after graduation when you saw Buck with Tessa McKnight shortly before he and I were married? Buck convinced me it must’ve been someone who looked like him. Then, three years ago, a man came to my door and left a message saying that Buck had better stay away from his wife. I remember how shocked he looked when he saw me. He didn’t have any idea that Buck was married.

  Neither did Terri Noble. I received a letter from her last week, telling me Buck got her pregnant. He claimed because he was Catholic he was against abortion and wouldn’t pay for one. The Church takes a similar view of infidelity, but apparently that didn’t bother him.

  When Buck came home from the mill, I showed him the letter. He blew up and asked how I could possibly believe this woman. A stranger I didn’t even know. He was hurt and offended that I’d take her word over his. Frankly, it never occurred to me not to believe her. I asked Buck to move out and he refused.

  I’m filing for divorce as soon as I can afford an attorney. I have to, Jillian, in order to maintain my sanity. I wanted this marriage to work, but not at the price of my dignity.

  The peace this evening feels like the lull before the storm. I can’t continue to burden my brother with my problems. Mike barely makes enough to support himself, let alone three children and me. Mom wants to help, but my dad’s forbidden her to speak to me. All he’s done, from the moment I told him I’m divorcing Buck, is quote chapter and verse about how it’s a woman’s duty to stand by her man, regardless of his faults.

  At this point, the future looks like a constant battle but I don’t care. All I know is that I can’t stay in this marriage. I’m sorry for not believing you all those years ago. I would’ve saved myself a lot of grief if I had. Please don’t send mail to the trailer. I sincerely doubt he’d give me any letters from you, especially since he knows how much I treasure them.

  Love,

  Lesley

  May 1, 1973

  Dear Lesley,

  I’m sorry to hear about you and Buck. I wish we lived closer so I could really help you. It makes me mad that Dad won’t let you live at the house, but it upsets me even more that he won’t allow Mom to see you and the kids. That’s downright cruel.

  I remember how he was when Bill and I came to visit shortly after we got married. Dad refused to meet my husband. He refused to have anything to do with Bill or me. His excuse was that Bill and I were married outside the Church. The real reason was because I got out from under his unreasonable, fickle thumb. He always disapproved of me joining the Navy. He did everything he could to stop me from leaving home. He didn’t get the opportunity to choose my husband for me, the way he did you. Dad didn’t give you any choice but to marry Buck. I know what happened, Les. I figured it out. Buck raped you, didn’t he? Then you ended up pregnant with Davey and you were trapped. Well, I saw what happened to you and got out before Dad could mess up my life, too.

  You didn’t ask for help, but you’re my sister and I can’t bear the thought of you and the children hurting or hungry. Bill and I talked it over and we’re enclosing a check for $100. It isn’t much, but it’ll help a little.

  I’m so proud of Mike for stepping in and helping you. He said Joe and Bruce and Lily are giving you whatever spare cash they can. We’re behind you 100%. Don’t worry, Les. Everything’s going to work out. Buck doesn’t deserve you. He never did.

  Love,

  Bill, Susan and Aaron

  JILLIAN LAWTON

  330 FAIRCHILD AVE.

  APARTMENT 3B

  BOSTON, MA 02138

  May 2, 1973

  Dearest Lesley,

  Your letter was waiting for me when I returned from a week in Nantucket. Oh, Les, I am so sorry. I never tried to hide my feelings about Buck. I didn’t want you to marry him. I didn’t feel he was anywhere near good enough for you. It’s true; my reasons weren’t entirely selfless—I wanted you to attend the University of Washington, or any college for that matter. I wanted us to be together the way we’d been since we were kids.

  You’re a wonderful mother, Lesley. I’ve often admired that about you. Your children are as dear to me as if they were my own, especially Lindy, who holds my heart in the palm of her hand.

  I know how difficult all of this has been. I’m impressed by your courage, especially in light of all the opposition you’ve faced. I also know this decision wasn’t made without a great deal of thought. But, Lesley, Buck is no kind of husband.

  Now, here’s what I want you to do, and please, for once, don’t argue with me. This isn’t charity. I talked to my mom this afternoon and she’s going to give you a job. Her housekeeper has retired and she needs a replacement. She wants to hire you, and before you say no, it was her idea, not mine. The money probably won’t completely support you and the kids, but that’s what child support payments are all about.

  I have an attorney for you. Montgomery Gordon is the best attorney in town and quite possibly the state. He’s one of my dad’s partners and a bit of a stuffed shirt, but he’s good. Mom mentioned your case to him and he’s offered to represent you w
ithout charge. Personally, I can hardly wait for him to get his claws into Buck.

  I’ll be in touch. Don’t worry, Lesley, everything’s going to work out.

  Love,

  Jillian

  June 1, 1973

  Dear Mr. Gordon,

  Thank you so much for your efforts on my behalf. I know you felt bad that you weren’t able to remove Buck from the trailer, but you did accomplish what you set out to do. The children and I now have a place to live without needing to rely on my brother.

  You asked me to think about having the judge issue a restraining order against Buck. I’ve given this serious thought, but I don’t believe it’s necessary. Even though Buck sometimes blows up like that, his temper tantrums generally end quickly. He was upset because the judge ordered him to pay the rent on the apartment for me and the kids.

  Having to pay the rent and the amount of child support the judge ordered until the divorce is final was a shock to him. Apparently he assumed he wouldn’t be asked to accept financial responsibility because I was the one who filed for divorce. With the rent covered, plus Buck’s payments and what I’m making as a housekeeper for Judge and Mrs. Lawton, I’ll be able to support my children. Unfortunately it was necessary to withdraw them from the Catholic school, but that couldn’t be helped. They’ll start public school in September.

  Again, my appreciation.

  Sincerely,

  Lesley Knowles

  Dorothy Adamski

  July 2, 1973

  My dearest Lesley,

  I can’t tell you how much I’ve missed you and the children. Your father has been extremely unreasonable about this. When he learned I’d been over to see you and the kids, he got into such a state, he nearly had a heart attack. He’s absolutely forbidden me to contact you again. This situation with the long gas lines isn’t helping his temper any. He waited two hours to fill up yesterday and came home in a horrible mood. As far as I’m concerned, OPEC is a four-letter word!

  Does Jillian know about Mr. Murphy’s gas station closing down? It’s the saddest thing to see a man’s lifework disappear because of foreign greed.

  I’m miserable without you and dreadfully miss seeing my grandbabies. Lily has agreed to deliver this note to you, plus the ten dollars. I wish it was more, but that’s all I was able to get this week without your father suspecting.

  Buck was here for dinner yesterday. I could hardly look at him, and I was disgusted that your father would have anything to do with the man. Buck and your dad sat around all afternoon watching baseball and drinking beer. Buck complained the entire time about that highfalutin attorney you’ve got working for you. It was all I could do not to stand up and cheer. He’s let himself go, I noticed. His shirt needed washing and he hadn’t shaved in a couple of days. Your father assured Buck you’d come to your senses soon.

  Don’t give in, Lesley. Your father would probably put his fist through the wall if he knew I’d said that. You have more courage than I ever did. I’m proud of you.

  I love you, sweetheart. Stay strong.

  Love,

  Mom

  July 5, 1973

  Dear Daddy,

  I miss you. I saw fireworks at the park.

  Love,

  Davey

  July 10, 1973

  Dear Lesley,

  Okay, baby, you win. I miss you and the kids too damn much to pretend I don’t. I wake up in the morning and there’s no reason to crawl out of bed. For years this trailer didn’t seem to have an inch of extra space. Now it feels big enough to drown in.

  I’m sorry about Terri, sorrier than you’ll ever know. I’m not going to offer any excuses—it happened and I was the one at fault. I regretted it all along. I never meant to hurt you or the kids, and I can see that I have.

  Can we talk? Please? I miss my family. Nothing is right without you. The kids miss me, too. I want to see them. Let me visit, okay? How about if I come this weekend? I’ll take Davey fishing. You know how he’s always wanted to go with me. Later I’ll take Lindy and Dougie for ice cream so they won’t feel left out. Afterward, you and I can talk. Say I can come, Lesley. Don’t keep me away from my children.

  I don’t deserve you, but I’m begging you, baby. Talk to me, that’s all I’m asking. Give me a chance to make it up to you and the kids.

  Buck

  JILLIAN LAWTON

  330 FAIRCHILD AVE

  . APARTMENT 3B

  BOSTON, MA 02138

  August 4, 1973

  Dear Montgomery,

  Just a note to thank you for all the work you’ve put into helping my friend in the matter of her divorce. In her last letter to me, Lesley mentioned that she and Buck were talking about reconciling. I’d hate to see that happen, but I can’t make the decision for her.

  I appreciate the updates on my father’s health. He does seem more chipper these days and I’m sure that’s because you’ve taken over a number of his professional responsibilities. But it won’t be forever; if everything goes according to schedule, I’ll be joining the firm about this time next year.

  My parents consider you a valued friend and I want you to know that I do, too.

  Sincerely,

  Jillian

  September 12, 1973

  Dear Jillian,

  I’m enclosing a picture of me and the kids. I’m the one with the big hair. I love this new style! All I have to do in the morning is wash it and let it dry. Of course, my head looks like a dandelion gone to seed, but that’s beside the point.

  The kids look happy, don’t they? Davey has missed his father something fierce—his daddy and his clubhouse. Davey was barely three when the two of them built that rickety old shack, but it remains my son’s retreat from the world. Without his clubhouse, he’s been a lost soul.

  Lindy has taken to sucking her thumb again. I’m sure the divorce proceedings were responsible for that. And predictably Dougie started wetting the bed. Children need their father.

  I’m telling you all this for a reason. I imagine you know what it is. Buck and I are getting back together. I didn’t make this decision lightly, any more than I made the decision to leave.

  You and I both know Buck has his faults, but every one of us does. I have his word that he’ll never cheat on me again. He begged me to give him one last chance to prove himself. He begged me not to break up our family.

  For weeks I’ve been torn, not knowing what to do. My children cry at night after Buck comes to visit, because they miss him so much. They all want to move back home.

  I used to think I was smart, but solving algebra equations is a whole lot easier than making decisions that affect the lives of my children. Maybe I’m weak. I don’t know anymore. I wouldn’t take him back if I didn’t firmly believe he’s learned his lesson. I’ve made it clear that if he has another affair, it’s over—right then and there.

  Thank you for your support and love during this time. You’re the best friend I’ve ever had, Jillian. I don’t know what I would’ve done without you.

  Your mom is interviewing other women for the housekeeper position. There’s a reason I’m not going to continue with the job. Oh, Jillian, I did something terribly stupid. You don’t need to be upset with me, because I’m upset enough with myself.

  Earlier in the month, Buck stopped by the apartment one night. The kids were all asleep and he said he wanted to talk. We did talk, but then he spent the night and, well…you guessed it. I’m pregnant. I haven’t told Buck yet, but I already know he’ll be absolutely delighted.

  We’re both going to give this reconciliation everything we have. I wouldn’t do this if I had a single doubt of his love for the children and me. We’re both going to try harder to make our marriage work.

  I’m grateful to Montgomery Gordon. He was wonderful through all of this. I know he’s disappointed but he’d never openly admit it. He doted on the kids and they took a shine to him, too. You said he’s a stuffed shirt and I agree he is a bit stiff before you get to know him, but he’s a very n
ice man.

  Thank you for being the best friend I’ve ever had.

  Love,

  Lesley

  1974

  Jillian’s Diary

  January 1, 1974

  Dear Nick,

  Here it is, the start of yet another year. I always believed that once I was practicing law, I’d join my father’s firm. Instead I moved back to New York and I’m volunteering with the National Organization for Women. Dad encouraged me to go ahead and do that, knowing how strongly I feel about women’s rights.

  Surprisingly, I get along better with my parents these days, especially my father. I’m not sure who changed and would prefer to think we both have. He remains a staunch Republican despite the Watergate mess, although his defense of Nixon isn’t as loud or as adamant since Agnew resigned and the Watergate hearings have started. Montgomery Gordon works closely with Dad, and part of me feared a power struggle would develop between us if I returned to Pine Ridge. I still view him as stodgy, but I’ve revised my opinion of him. He represented Lesley last year when it looked like she was going to divorce Buck and she couldn’t say enough good things about him.

  My decision to remain on the East Coast also has to do with the fact that I no longer think of Pine Ridge as home. I associate the town with you and that glorious summer we shared before I left for college. The summer before you went to Vietnam. We were young, innocent and so much in love. That time, that innocence, is gone forever now.

  I enjoy visiting Pine Ridge and cherish my friends, especially Lesley, but I don’t fit comfortably into that small town anymore. Besides, I love living in New York.

  Oh, Nick, you wouldn’t believe the gas lines! People are waiting two hours and longer for gasoline. The newspaper had a picture recently of people parking their cars outside the service station the night before it opened, hoping to get in early before the pumps ran dry. There’s even talk of rationing. Supposedly it all has to do with OPEC, but almost everyone believes it has more to do with greedy oil companies than with any foreign government.