True Love

by Lurlene McDaniel

  “Then don’t think about it. We’ve got two more weeks.”

  He leaned back against the bowl of the fountain, rested his elbows on the lip, and gazed up at the glittering stars. “Sometimes, the past six months seem like a bad dream. Like they never happened to me. I wish I didn’t have to go for testing ever again.”

  A chill coursed through her as the memories flooded back. “The testing’s routine. The results were fine last time and they’ll be fine next time too. I’m telling you, Luke, it’s over. You’ve licked Hodgkin’s.” Suddenly, a new fear seized her, and she leaned toward him. “You are feeling all right, aren’t you?”

  “Me? I feel great. I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to alarm you. I was just thinking out loud, that’s all.”

  She sighed with relief. “Good. We’ve been so busy and you’ve seemed so energetic—what with working out every day—that sometimes I forget … you know … about your health.”

  “I forget about it too.” He stood and drew her up into his arms. “And I didn’t mean to bring you down by talking about it.”

  “No problem.” She rested her head on his broad, hard chest and heard the rhythm of his heart.

  “Will you promise me something?”

  The rumble of his voice tickled her ear. “I’ll promise you anything,” she answered.

  “Promise that with or without me, you’ll come back here someday.”

  She pulled back and gazed up at him, at his strong jawline, at his dark eyes, now even darker with only stars to light his face. “Sorry … I can’t promise you that. Without you, I won’t want to come back here. This place is wonderful, but only because you’re here with me.”

  He kissed her then, drawing her mouth to his, and suddenly it felt as if all the stars in the sky above had sprinkled themselves upon her. “Luke …,” she whispered.

  “My love,” he whispered back.

  Julie and Diedra shopped for dresses on Rodeo Drive for the upcoming wedding. Julie couldn’t believe the prices, or the rows of limousines parked in front of the stores. “I never knew there were so many rich people in the world,” she told Diedra as they sat in a trendy restaurant having lunch.

  “Out here, you get a warped perspective of wealth and material things. Don’t let it dazzle you.”

  “I won’t. But if Luke gets to play for the NFL someday, he’ll be rich.”

  “Is that what he wants to do?”

  “Yes—although his illness sort of sidetracked him. But now that he’s well, I think he’ll start wanting the things he used to want again.”

  “Does he talk about it much? About how having gotten cancer makes him feel?”

  “We’re both angry about it. It isn’t fair, you know.”

  Diedra set her fork down. “Life’s never fair. Sometimes we’re lucky enough to find someone to love and who loves us, but ‘fairly’ isn’t the way God runs the world.”

  Julie nodded. “Still, Luke gets down. I think he’s afraid his cancer will come back. I tell him he’s well, but still he gets depressed about it.”

  “You should let him talk to you,” Diedra said, sipping her water. “I remember how much my mother needed to talk to me about her dying.”

  “But Luke’s not dying.”

  “It doesn’t matter—he still needs to get out his feelings, and because he loves you, you’re the one who needs to help him talk about them.”

  “It’s depressing for me too. I don’t want him to talk about dying.”

  “I’d never tell you what to do, Julie, but think about it. Think about listening, really listening to his heart.”

  Julie pondered Diedra’s advice long and hard, and two days later, when Steve and Diedra were called in for a planning session on their upcoming film project, Luke suggested he and Julie strike out on their own.

  “Where are we going?” she asked as he started up Diedra’s sports car. She had lent it to them for the day.

  “You’ll think I’m nuts, but more than anything, I want to visit Marilyn Monroe’s grave.”

  Julie gulped, then said cheerfully, “If that’s what you want to do, let’s go.”

  “It’s what I want to do.” Luke put the car into gear and they drove off into the hot Los Angeles morning.

  17

  Julie juggled a map of Los Angeles while Luke piloted the car out onto the expressways. “Do we know where we’re going?” she asked.

  “I think so,” he said. “I asked Steve for directions before he left.”

  The overhead sun blazed down and the wind blew over the open convertible, tangling Julie’s hair.

  “You’re beautiful,” Luke yelled above the roar of the engine. With his free hand, he touched her blond hair, struck golden by the rays of the sun.

  “You’re prejudiced,” she countered.

  He got off the expressway and drove down a busy thoroughfare. Eventually, he turned and stopped the car near a small, neatly kept church. He opened her door and led her through the church’s parking lot, along the side of the building, through a wrought-iron gate, and into a small cemetery. The grounds were neat and well maintained, with walkways that led in orderly directions.

  “Are you sure this is it?” she asked. Somehow, she had expected Marilyn Monroe to be buried in some soaring mausoleum of marble and whitewashed granite, not off some side street in the middle of a business district.

  “I’m sure,” Luke told her. He stopped in front of an above-ground crypt.

  Carved in the stone, along with the dates of her birth and death, was Marilyn’s name. The letters looked stark and surreal to Julie, and she felt goose bumps rise along her arms. She thought of all the posters she’d seen of the famous movie star, even movies she’d watched with Luke starring Marilyn, yet those images seemed far less real than her name etched in granite—perhaps because, Julie mused, behind the wall of the enclosure lay her mortal body.

  Julie touched the letters gingerly. “These are different from the letters in the sidewalk,” she said.

  “These are final,” Luke observed. “When you see somebody’s signature, you expect them to be alive. But these are carved out for a person. The person doesn’t have any control over these.”

  “Why did she get buried here? Her grave seems so ordinary for someone so popular.”

  “Joe DiMaggio, one of her ex-husbands, arranged this. He decided that since her life had been so public, her death and burial should be private. He loved her, even though they were divorced.”

  Julie honestly didn’t want to be discussing death with Luke, but she recalled Diedra’s urging her to listen if Luke ever wanted to discuss his feelings. And she realized that his need to see Marilyn Monroe’s grave was somehow connected to his feelings about what was happening to him. “I wonder if he still loves her.”

  “It’s hard to say. I do know that after she died, a red rose was put on her crypt every day. Every day for twenty-five years.”

  “Wow … that’s awesome.” Julie thought about how much she loved receiving flowers from Luke. “Too bad Marilyn couldn’t let the sender know what it meant to her.”

  “Julie, do you think when people die they can communicate with the people they love who are still alive?”

  She considered his question, then said, “I don’t think so, Luke. I think death takes people out of this world forever and that there’s no way back. But I do believe in heaven, a place where souls go and where people meet again after death. Don’t you believe that?”

  His eyes clouded. “Sometimes I believe it. But other times, I’m afraid it’s not true and that death is the end of ourselves. That we just stop existing. And we’re gone forever.”

  She shook her head. “I’d rather not believe that way. If that’s true, then why do we ever get to live? Why even bother to live? I like to think everybody gets to meet up again in heaven.”

  “I hope you’re right.”

  She could tell he was troubled by questions he couldn’t express, by mysteries he couldn’t understand. She want
ed to help him, but didn’t know how. She didn’t want to think about death and eternity, and she didn’t want him thinking about it either. Regardless of what Diedra said, he was too young to talk about dying, and according to his doctors, his cancer was in remission, so she couldn’t see the necessity.

  She touched his arm, half to reassure herself that he was still flesh and blood. “Enough of this talk, Luke. Why don’t we talk about lunch instead?”

  He grinned. “Okay, so I got a little heavy. But I’ve been thinking more and more about things I never thought about before I got sick. I don’t mean to be gloomy or to scare you.”

  “No problem. I guess it’s only natural to think about this stuff when you’ve had a close call, or a serious illness, but you’re fine now and so I think you should be considering next football season and how hard my father’s going to be pushing you. Now that’s scary.”

  “True. He’s expecting me to take our team to the state finals. I hope I can.”

  “I know you will.” She offered him a dazzling smile and took his hand. “Why don’t you say good-bye to Marilyn and let’s blow this place. Steve and Diedra promised to be home in time to take us to the Hard Rock Cafe for supper.”

  He draped his arm over her shoulders and, without so much as a backward glance, he led her away from the grave of Marilyn, away from the cemetery, and away from all the images of death that haunted him. Julie felt relief. For now, it seemed that he had closed the book on his shadowy thoughts of nonexistence and was content to walk in the light of the sun.

  That weekend, Steve and Diedra took them hiking in the foothills. They left the city before daylight and were on the trail as the sun began to rise. Eastward, the indigo-blue sky faded to a paler shade of blue and streaks of pink heralded the dawn. Stars began to disappear, and slowly light reached brightening fingers across the rugged landscape and lit dark rock formations, one by one, like candles on a cake.

  Julie was cold, but in an hour, as the day chased away the night, warmth spread over her like butter on warm toast. “I’m hungry,” she announced finally.

  “We’re just about to stop and fix breakfast,” Steve said, removing his backpack. “We’ll need some firewood. Diedra, Luke, fan out and collect some sticks.”

  Wearily, Julie sat on a nearby rock. “What are we going to eat? Roadkill?”

  “Bacon and eggs,” Steve said, taking utensils out of his knapsack.

  “You’re kidding!” Julie exclaimed, pleased.

  “Powdered eggs,” Diedra said. “Sometimes not as good-tasting as roadkill.”

  “Do you doubt my culinary skills, woman?”

  “Never.” Diedra winked at Julie and Luke, who had dumped an armload of sticks and twigs at Steve’s feet. “Actually, he’s fed me before, and he does a passable job.”

  “I hope so,” Luke said. “I’m hungry enough to eat the dirt off my boots.”

  “Which is one of our chef’s most famous delicacies,” Diedra joked. “And one of his best-kept secrets as to how he makes people believe he’s a skilled chef. He allows his guests to get so hungry that no matter what he serves, they think it’s wonderful.”

  “Talent such as mine doesn’t need your grief,” Steve announced, feigning hurt.

  “Just cook,” Diedra said.

  In no time, Steve had the fire built, fresh coffee boiling, and bacon frying. Julie never remembered anything smelling so delicious, and she cleaned her plate greedily once breakfast was served.

  “Where do we go from here?” Luke wanted to know as they put out the fire and packed up the utensils.

  Steve pointed toward a flat stretch of land. Beyond it, rocks rose in jagged patterns. “In those canyons is some of the most beautiful wilderness on the face of the earth. We’ll spend two hours going in, two coming out. Then back to the Jeep, and home.”

  The Jeep was parked at a communal parking area, miles away. “Why don’t you go on and pick me up on the way back,” Julie said with a yawn.

  “This from a female who practically walked my legs off on Rodeo Drive,” Diedra teased.

  “That was different.”

  Luke grinned. “Yeah … out here there aren’t any ‘Sale’ signs.”

  “Very funny.” She rose to her feet. “All right, I’ll show you all how tough I am.” She marched off toward the canyons. Luke followed.

  An hour later, she was very tired, but the stark beauty of the terrain held her interest. The four of them began to climb. The going was slow and the footing difficult, mostly because the ground was loose and Julie’s boots kept sinking. Pebbles splattered behind her with every step.

  “The view at the top is worth it,” Steve insisted.

  Winded, Julie muttered, “It had better be.”

  Luke, obviously in good shape again, didn’t seem to mind the climb one bit. When at last Julie hoisted herself onto level ground, she heaved a breath, then stared at the view below. Gullies and ravines wound through magnificent rock formations as far as her eye could see. In the bright sunlight, the rocks looked gardenlike, blooming in red and gold and white. Purple shadows cut swaths along the ravines and faded to black when the sunlight failed to penetrate the twists and turns.

  “Wow,” Julie said.

  “Unbelievable,” Luke said, standing next to her.

  Wind, moaning in the ghostly gullies, was the only sound.

  “If a person got lost in there, how’d he ever find his way out?” Luke asked.

  “He might not,” Diedra said. “That’s why it’s safest to climb up and look down on it.”

  “Shout something,” Steve said. “Go ahead. Don’t be shy.”

  Luke stepped forward and, cupping a hand around his mouth, yelled, “Luke loves Julie!”

  The sound bounced off the canyon walls, reverberated, slid into the ravines, and finally evaporated into the air. Julie smiled at him, stepped closer to the rim, and shouted, “Julie loves Luke!”

  Again, the words ricocheted back, rolling waves of sound on a river of wind. “Julie and Luke forever!” Luke yelled. The words leaped back toward them, loud, then soft, then softer and softer before fading away.

  “One more time, together?” Luke asked, taking her hand.

  They lifted their arms and shouted “I love you” in unison, blending their voices and words until the two became as one. And they listened as their words returned to them, until the echoes of their words became as embedded in the memory of the canyon as the colors of the sun.

  18

  When Luke and Julie were four days away from leaving Los Angeles, Steve and Diedra made the final preparations for their wedding. The day before the ceremony, the four of them drove north along the coastal highway, toward Monterey and the centuries-old chapel that Steve had reserved for the wedding.

  The road hugged the shoreline and, from the backseat of the Mercedes, Julie watched the ocean sweep across coarse-grained beaches of sand and, where there was no beach, watched the salty water smash into soaring, craggy cliffs of rugged granite. Steve turned east, into the hills, and drove over a ridge into a sunny, sleepy valley, seemingly untouched by time, that cradled a quiet town.

  The chapel, in the center of the town, was a rectangular adobe building with a bell tower and an ancient mission bell that monks rang every morning and at twilight. There was a single main street, lined with boutiques, gourmet food shops, and colorful craft stores selling Native American and Mexican artwork.

  Steve had arranged for two rooms at a quaint bed-and-breakfast inn—Julie and Diedra in one room, he and Luke in another. They ate supper on the back patio, under trellises draped with night-blooming jasmine and moonflowers. A man playing a Spanish guitar strolled among the tables, serenading the diners.

  They ate leisurely, lingering over coffee and dessert, enjoying the balmy night breeze that gently stirred the petals of the flowers and sent sweet, subtle scents across the patio. Julie kept gazing up at the stars, which were spread out across the sky like jewels on black velvet. She could hardly believ
e that in two days, she and Luke would fly back home and California would be only a memory. She heard Luke ask, “You two going to go on a honeymoon?”

  “We head for Europe at the end of next month for our next film project,” Steve replied. “We thought we’d grab our honeymoon before we have to start work.”

  “Where?” Julie asked, thinking how romantic it sounded to honeymoon in Europe.

  “London, first,” Diedra said. “Then Paris and Madrid. We’ll be filming in Spain, so that’s where we’ll end up.”

  “How long will you be gone?” Luke asked.

  “Almost four months,” Steve said. “We’ve got to hunt out locations before we start filming. And once we wrap up the European project, we head on to Japan for the next one. We probably won’t be back in the States until next spring.”

  Julie sighed. “High school sounds so boring by comparison.”

  “It’s a long time to be away from home,” Diedra said. “Especially when all we really want to do is settle down and have kids.”

  Steve took her hand. “And that’s just what we’re going to do once the Japanese project is over.”

  Diedra smiled at him and, sensing their tender bond, Julie reached for Luke’s hand. She was surprised to see Luke studying his uncle with an expression of sadness. She wondered what he was thinking and feeling, but she didn’t get the opportunity to ask because as soon as dinner was finished, she and Diedra returned to their room amid talk of tomorrow being the “big day.”

  While Diedra took a shower, Julie lay on her bed staring moodily into space, wondering about Luke. The phone rang and she grabbed the receiver. Luke’s voice said, “Julie, meet me in the chapel tomorrow morning at ten.”

  “The wedding’s not until one.”

  “I know, but I want to talk to you before the wedding. And I don’t want to be rushed.”

  The inn wasn’t far from the chapel. According to local legend, in olden days a bride would walk barefoot from the center of town to the church, where her groom would be waiting. “Is something wrong?” Julie asked, feeling a flutter of fear.