John felt her arms reach through his from behind. He looked down, recognizing her hands immediately and remembering the way they felt around him. He hugged them to his chest.
“Having fun yet?” she asked, over his shoulder.
“Oh, sure,” he replied unenthusiastically, but playfully. “Tons.” He turned in her arms.
Becca patted his lapels, then reached up and brushed his cheek gently. “You’d better be. It’s my wedding day,” she smiled. “I couldn’t bear it if my best friend in the whole world weren’t having a good time,” she said coyly. “You haven’t even kissed the bride yet.”
Becca slowly rose onto her toes, leaned in, and kissed him gently on the corner of his lips. Then she brushed the lipstick from his face with a tiny kerchief tucked in her beaded sleeve. She took his hand. “You haven’t danced with the bride yet, either.” She turned to David, as did John.
“Like I can stop you two,” he said sarcastically, adding a smile for effect.
Becca grinned as she pulled John onto the dance floor. They stood in front of each other awkwardly, if only for a moment. David was watching them. John felt it without even turning. Her smile was bigger, brighter than he’d ever seen before. She had a beautiful smile. She gave him an impatient look as she waited for him to take her into his arms for the dance. He held out his hand. She gently placed hers in his. He looked down at her ring. His other hand moved to her waist, slowly sliding around her, brushing the sequins until they found the curve of her back. Her free hand moved to his shoulder. Slowly, methodically, he began to move her across the dance floor.
“Do you like my dress?” she asked.
He smiled.
“I made it myself.” Then she corrected herself. “Actually, Aunt Betty helped me, until she got too sick,” she added sadly.
“Yeah, I got your letter when she died. I’m very sorry.”
“She would have been so proud,” she began, brushing his lapel as if to dust it off.
“I’ll bet. Marrying the mayor’s son and the quarterback.”
“I was talking about you,” she smiled. “She would have been so proud to see you now. A pilot and an officer.”
“Right,” John said, rolling his eyes.
Becca narrowed her own. “No matter what you think, she liked you.”
John laughed.
“Really. She said leaving this town was the best thing you could have done.”
“Why doesn’t that surprise me?”
Becca gripped his hand tighter. “The best thing you could have done for yourself,” she emphasized. “No matter what you think, she thought the world of you. It was your father she had the problem with.”
“Guilty by association?” he asked.
Becca added sadly, “Something like that.”
John looked over her shoulder, watching David as he watched them. David held up his flask to toast John again, and then took a swig. John gave him a nod.
“I was sorry to hear about your father,” Becca said.
John looked around the room as they turned. “That makes one of us.”
“I thought you would be at his funeral.”
“I’m sure the whole town turned out for that one,” he remarked sarcastically.
Becca smiled. “Maybe with time,” she began.
“I don’t think so,” he said firmly. His gaze turned back to her. She was trying so hard. He slowly looked her up and down and smiled. “It is a beautiful dress.”
Her smile grew. “Do you believe in destiny?”
John shrugged. “I don’t know. Maybe.”
Becca saw David and she couldn’t help but smile. She turned back to John. “Everything is so perfect, John,” she said, looking him in the eyes. “I’ve never been this happy.”
John smiled as sincerely as he could and pulled her closer, spinning her slowly.
“I am happy, John,” she said softly to his shoulder. She leaned back just a bit, enough to look him in his eyes again. “Please be happy for me,” she pleaded. “I need you to be happy for me.”
The song ended. Everyone on the floor stopped and clapped. When John turned, David was standing there waiting for them. “There you are, monopolizing my bride.” He took Becca’s hand and kissed it. He turned to John. “You do look good, flyboy. So, when do you get out?”
“Whenever they’ve had enough of me, I guess,” he chuckled.
David laughed. “That soon, huh?”
One of her bridesmaids, dressed in baby-blue taffeta, caught Becca’s attention and smiled. Becca motioned for her to come over to them. John turned as she walked up. Becca introduced her as Marissa—the name just vaguely familiar. She blushed when John shook her hand. She told him she had been in three of his classes his senior year. He nodded politely though he couldn’t remember her. David teased her about how she used to be plain and lanky and thin. John looked her up and down. She had filled out nicely. She caught him looking at her. Becca did, too.
“You two should dance,” Becca said, pushing John toward Marissa.
John didn’t want to offend two ladies at once. He smiled and held out his hand. Marissa took it and followed him to the dance floor. They didn’t talk for most of the dance. It was considerably uncomfortable for both of them. Whenever they looked at each other, they smiled awkwardly. She felt good in his arms—or was it just having a woman in his arms that felt good?
“I can’t believe you don’t remember me,” she said softly.
“I’m sorry,” he sighed. “I tried to forget as much about this town as I could when I left.”
“Yeah,” she rolled her head side to side. “I can’t wait to get out of this town. I’m going to Southwest Texas right now. But that’s not far enough away for me,” she chattered on.
“What are you studying?”
“Education. I want to be a teacher,” she beamed.
“I can see you as a teacher,” he replied with a smile.
“Really?” she asked. “That’s so sweet.”
Then she continued as if she was catching up an old girlfriend on what she’d been doing for the past four years. He looked at her without really hearing her, his mind somewhere else. He had not dated anyone since Becca. Heck, he hadn’t dated anyone before Becca. He hadn’t wanted anyone but Becca. He always thought he would be coming back for her. At least that was his plan. But those plans had since changed. Once he had settled in at the base, he called her several times, but she was never home. John gave her aunt his address, sure that she’d never give it to Becca, but then one day, several months later, he received his first letter from her.
She wrote him regularly while he was away, at least every couple of weeks. After six months, the letters came less frequently. About that time, she started seeing David. Within a year of that she was engaged, and now here they were, three years later.
John’s eyes met Marissa’s again, and she blushed. “I said, Becca told me you fly helicopters?” she repeated. “How exciting.”
John nodded.
Marissa could tell that he was distracted, so she leaned her head to get his attention. “It’s good to see you again,” she smiled.
As the song was ending, John looked into her eyes, as if he was studying them.
Marissa smiled. “What?”
John’s eyes narrowed. “You used to wear glasses, didn’t you?”
Marissa beamed.
John could feel her trembling. He looked at Becca, who was also smiling at him. He knew the world wouldn’t be right if she didn’t think he was going to be okay. The song ended, everyone stopped dancing and clapped. Then John turned to Marissa. “Would you like a cup of punch?”
Marissa shrugged with excitement. He took her hand and led her to the punch table. They arrived at the same time as Becca and David and the photographer.
David talked to the photographer about some pictures he wanted taken with his grandparents while John retrieved the punch. He turned to find Becca and Marissa whispering and giggling and cutting thei
r eyes at him. John shot Becca a reprimanding glare as he walked toward them and handed Marissa a punch. She thanked him and walked to the cake table to prepare it for the cake cutting.
Becca slid her arm through John’s and looked up at him, her eyes searching his. She smiled. John reached around her and hugged her. He felt her breath on his neck. He closed his eyes, pulling her close again. “I am happy for you, Becca,” he sighed softly. “I am so happy for you.” He reluctantly released her one last time.
David walked up to her and took her by the arm. The photographer stood in front of them. “Great shot, everyone. Don’t move.”
Becca pulled the two men closer to her side.
“Everyone, smile!”
Chapter 7: November 11, 2000
John called the local Greyhound station and asked about departures to San Antonio from Dallas. There was a bus departing in three hours. So he spent the next fifteen minutes packing a bag with three days of clothing, then the next hour and a half digging through his closet and cabinets and dressers for a shoebox. When he found it, he set it in his overnight bag, then dialed his neighbor who always looked in on Patches and watered his plants whenever he was away. He told her where to find the key, made sure his house was secure, and drove to the bus station.
John wasn’t thrilled about the fact he couldn’t drive that far on his own anymore. His eyes weren’t what they used to be; his peripheral vision worse than ever. Otherwise, he would already be on the road headed to his friend. He hated getting older. He had been through three tours in Vietnam, and never felt as bad then as he did now. His knees were shot and he had arthritis in his hip—the one they hadn’t replaced. He’d had his gall bladder removed, his appendix removed, and part of his pinky finger blown off.
He looked around the bus station. It smelled—for lack of a better word—musty. There was every size and age, race, denomination, and background of people imaginable waiting there to board. A teenager with torn jeans and something in his ears that made his lobes look like he’d been initiated into an African tribe lounged on the bench to his right. A Hispanic family with four children chattered away in Spanish by the cashier, while another family next to them spoke a language he’d never heard before.
A dark-skinned man and his young son, both wearing matching Dallas Cowboy jerseys with the number 22 on them, were talking excitedly about football. A woman and a man in business suits carrying briefcases talked on their cell phones, while a couple of teenagers were kissing—bordering on petting—by a wall. A young corporal in fatigues played with his camouflage hat, twisting and turning it in his hands. There were dozens of others, waiting for buses to their ultimate destinations. He held his bag tighter in his lap.
He looked at the people and wondered whether they were traveling to somewhere or running away. How many of them had seen war? How many of them had suffered abuse? Either at the hands of someone they loved, or even a complete stranger? How many of them were on their way to see their families or friends? Would they be able to hold a loved one just one more time? Would they be able to say “I love you”? Or would they be too late?
John opened his bag and took out the shoebox. He slowly slid off the lid, a small tremor in his hand causing it to shake. He shuffled through the letters, all in dated order, and pulled one out. Slowly he took it from the envelope and unfolded it.
Dear John,
Still here. Still waiting on the letter you promised to send six months ago when we last saw you. Still not pregnant. It’s heartbreaking because we both want kids so badly. David reminds me it’s all in God’s timing. I just wish He would hurry up! I told him if we have more than one son, I wanted to name him Johnny Dale, after you and his dad. He said that’s fine as long as the kid doesn’t grow up to look like you! Marissa writes me and tells me she sees you when she’s in town. She’s really crazy about you, you know? Maybe when we are back in Texas we can all get together again. It’s always too long between our visits. I miss our talks. I miss seeing you. I miss you hugging me and telling me everything will work out and that everything is going to be okay. I miss you…Always Yours, Becca xxo
John refolded the letter and placed it back into the box. He picked up a stack of pictures, placing them one behind the other as he looked through them. He found a few that gave him pause. There were assorted pictures of the four of them standing in front of his old coupe with the forests of Canyon Lake as the background. He smiled, then closed his eyes. For a moment he could smell the cedar trees around him and the clean lake air. He could hear the waves softly lapping at the shoreline and the frogs singing to each other.
Chapter 8: Friday, October 13, 1967
John wasn’t thrilled about the idea of girls on a camping trip, but David kept insisting it would be fun. Of course, he was singing a different tune when they only came up with two tents, and Becca insisted that the guys bunk together. To add insult to injury, Becca had insisted that he and John use the smaller tent and that she and Marissa use the larger one. She hinted at a few sexual incentives, so he reluctantly acquiesced.
Although David and Becca had been married just over four years now, John and Marissa had only recently started dating. So this was stepping way outside his comfort zone. Oh, they had been on many double dates together, but this was different. Becca insisted there were no presumptions, though he had a few. Therefore, the girls would bunk together.
He really liked Marissa. In fact, emotions stirred that he’d never experienced before. It was different than the feelings he had for Becca, somehow. He tried to put out of his mind that David and Becca were having sex, probably on a regular basis, since they were still technically newlyweds. He knew his friend too well. Just because David couldn’t sleep in the same tent with her wasn’t going to stop him. And John couldn’t bear the thought of being privy to that.
It wasn’t that he was still in love with her. Or was it? John shook his head as he picked up firewood. When David and Becca had moved away so David could complete his officer training, it was a little easier. When John started dating Marissa it was a lot easier. Marissa was the first person since Becca who could make him laugh. Heck, she could make him smile, and he hadn’t remembered smiling about anything in a really long time. Of course, she had been writing him while he was still in the Army Air Corps, though not on any deployment. They were sweet, simple letters. “Hope you are safe,” “I’m praying for you.” They had been inseparable since he’d been back. Hers was the first familiar face he saw when he arrived back in Texas.
Then there were Becca’s letters. “I love and miss you,” “Come home to me,” “It’s not the same here without you.” And then there had been the letter he never imagined he would receive—“Oh, and by the way, I’m now dating your best friend.” That had been a kick in the teeth. At first he was angry. At Becca. At David. At himself. Then it felt like he was angry with everyone. But what could he do about it? He was in another state. He knew guys that had gotten a Dear John letter; he just never expected he’d be one of those guys. What could he do about it from a thousand miles away? She wanted him to be happy for her. She hoped he’d understand. Then she reminded him how broken she’d been when he had left her. Damn his pride!
Serving a tour in Vietnam had been tough on David, but he had survived it physically unscathed. He was one of the lucky ones. Countless others hadn’t made it back. None of them had anticipated that the escalating war would require America’s involvement, but when called up, David was ready to serve. While so many—men like David—were fighting and dying valiantly, John was still waiting for his unit to be called up. Now that helicopters were being outfitted to evacuate the injured, he could help save lives. Unlike David, he wasn’t looking forward to going to war. He knew the risk. He and his crew would assure that the casualty rate in the field was much lower because they could get the injured to a field hospital faster. Provided they didn’t get shot down first.
By the time they all saw each other again, Becca and David were engaged and had
set a date. David asked John to be his best man, probably at Becca’s insistence, and he agreed. They were his best friends. What else was he going to say? David seemed different after he came back from his first tour. He seemed harder. He didn’t smile as much, and that had to have been hard on Becca. She was always the bubbly cheerleader, on and off the field. David didn’t talk about his time overseas, but John had heard through other guys who had done a tour that some of the battles were fought in close combat. You can’t walk away from that and not be changed. They had to leave fallen Marines behind, and that was tough for morale, not to mention the psyches of the men who left their buddies in the mud.
John and David returned to camp from gathering wood for the campfire to find wildflowers in the center of their makeshift picnic table and in the girls’ tent. Becca and Marissa had everything perfectly and conveniently placed inside their tent, while the guys had literally chunked their duffels into the opening of their tent and set to work. They were only going to be there three days, and yet, David told him Becca had packed enough to change three times a day for four days. She didn’t want to have to leave the comfort of the tent—though she wouldn’t necessarily call it that—for any reason. The girls were in for a rude awakening when they realized that the bathroom was whatever bush they could squat behind in the woods. The guys were in for a surprise when they discovered their beds had been short-sheeted.
They ate sandwiches and potato salad and pickle slices, and sodas and cookies that were a little brown around the edges for dinner. John lit the campfire they had laid on the beach while David went back to the coupe. John had given David and Becca his car for a wedding present. It was all John owned, but he hadn’t driven it since enlisting. David’s car was forever breaking down, including on their wedding night, and since it was still parked in David’s garage, it just made sense to him. David grabbed extra blankets that Becca had packed to lay out on the beach, a few towels, a bottle of Johnny Walker, his new transistor radio, and a bucket of 7 Ups and Coca-Colas. He could hardly see to walk.
Letters from Becca: A Contemporary Romance Fiction Novel Page 5