by Jane Peart
“Shall I wait until Christmas or open it now?”
“Now, so I can see if you like it.”
“No question about that—I’m sure I will,” he said. He unwrapped the small painting. “Oh, Joy, this is lovely. Something to always remember that day. Not that I’d ever forget it. Thank you.”
Happy that he seemed pleased, Joy was glad she’d decided to give it to him. The waiter came to refill their cups, but Joy reluctantly checked her watch and said, “I guess we’d better leave. I can’t miss my bus. It’s the last one scheduled out tonight, and Molly’s expecting me.”
“Speaking selfishly, I wish you weren’t going. I’m going to miss you. Terribly,” Evan said with a rueful smile.
Joy didn’t answer. She realized she would miss Evan, too. How much she wasn’t sure.
They were quiet on the drive to the bus station, each bound in their own thoughts. Evan found a parking place and they hurried into the terminal.
The station bustled with the activity of holiday travelers. The loading platform was crowded with an assortment of passengers. The mood was jovial as they lined up to board, loaded with bundles, packages, shopping bags jammed full of brightly wrapped Christmas presents. The two of them stood with the rest of the crowd, Evan holding Joy’s luggage. Finding conversation impossible, they just smiled at each other.
The bus driver finally ambled out, urged to hurry by the good-natured grumbling of the waiting passengers. He began to take tickets, drawling, “All right, folks, all aboard for the Jingle Bell Express.” There was a ripple of appreciative laughter.
It was time to say good-bye, and strangely Joy felt a sudden reluctance to leave.
“Well, have a good holiday,” Evan said, handing her the suitcase, the package, and the tote bag.
“You too, Evan, and thank you again for the pin. I love it.”
“Good, I’m glad.” His eyes lingered on her. “Don’t forget we have a date for New Year’s Eve.”
“I won’t.”
“Let me know the minute you get back, okay?”
“Okay.”
“You comin’, lady?” the bus driver asked.
“I’d better go,” Joy said.
“Merry Christmas, Joy,” Evan said, putting both hands on her shoulders. Then he leaned down and kissed her.
“Merry Christmas, Evan,” she replied, then quickly turned and hurried to where the driver was holding the bus door open for her.
“See you next week!” Evan called.
Inside, Joy pressed her face against the frosty window by her seat and saw that Evan was still standing on the platform, waving as the bus lumbered out of the station. He looked touchingly lonely. Her heart gave a tug. Somehow she longed to comfort him. But then the bus turned a corner and Evan was lost to sight. She leaned back against the seat, and an unexpected thought passed through her mind: There’ll be other Christmases. Surprised, she straightened up. What did that mean? What was happening to her? Was she truly falling in love with Evan Wallace?
On Christmas Day, Molly’s home, all decorated for the season, was alive with holiday festivities. Delicious smells permeated every corner of the cozy little house, and there was a constant stream of visitors who came bearing gifts and left with gifts from Molly.
It wasn’t until the day after Christmas that Joy and Molly had a quiet time together to really talk. Molly nodded and made no comment as Joy expressed some of her thoughts and feelings about Evan. “He is so much different than I thought at first, Molly. So much gentler, more sensitive, and somehow vulnerable.”
“Are you falling in love with him, Joy?”
“I’ve never really been in love, so I’m not sure. I enjoy being with him. I’m amazingly comfortable. Which is strange, because it’s something I would never have dreamed would happen after my first impression of him.”
“How does he feel about you?”
“I don’t know.” She showed Molly the honeybee pin. “I think he is interested, intrigued maybe. He doesn’t share my faith but is sort of in awe about it.”
Molly seemed concerned and hesitated a moment before saying, “Well, dear, my only advice for you is to pray.” She paused again, then said, “I hope this won’t interfere with your trip this summer? You still plan to go to France, don’t you?”
“Oh yes, Molly. You know how long that’s been my dream.”
“Dreams sometimes have a way of being replaced by something you hadn’t dreamed about.”
“I’m not sure I understand your meaning.”
“Often, in the guise of love, we sacrifice our own dreams to fulfill someone else’s. Just be careful that doesn’t happen to you, Joy.”
Joy considered Molly’s advice often during the next few days. She knew it was given in love, as always. In telling Molly about Evan, had she overemphasized his importance in her life?
All that week she kept thinking about him, wondering what he was doing, if he was lonely.
One evening after supper she had a chance to tell Molly about Gayle and the strange coincidences they had discovered. “Did my mother tell you much about my father’s family?” she asked as they sat in the living room near the warmly lit fireplace.
“Not really,” said Molly. “They were married such a short time. It was a whirlwind romance. As you know, she met him in San Diego when he was in flight training, and then he went overseas almost immediately and sadly was killed within a few months.”
“I have a big void in my life, Molly, not knowing about my father. Especially since all this has come up. I have his name and nothing else.”
“I have something perhaps you should have,” Molly said. She got up and went over to her small desk and opened one of the drawers and took out a slim packet of envelopes. “Before your mother married Steve, she gave these to me. She said that when the time was right, she wanted her child to have them.” She handed the small packet of envelopes to Joy. “These are letters your mother and father wrote to each other after Beau went overseas. They were both very young and very much in love.”
Joy looked at the letters, then back at Molly.
“I think the time is right for you to read them, dear. Your mother felt she was starting a new life with Steve, and since you were so young, not quite three, she felt it would be better for you not to be confused. She wanted you, Steve, and herself to be a family. But she guessed that someday you might want to know about your real father.”
Joy turned the letters over a couple of times. A strange sensation went all through her, as if she were about to open a door that had always been locked and walk through it. She had no idea what she would find on the other side, what message these letters would give her. She felt both excited and a little afraid.
“I’m going to bed now so you can be alone when you read them. They are very special and very private and will, I’m sure, be precious to you,” Molly said, kissing her gently on her cheek. Then she left Joy sitting alone by the fire.
One by one Joy opened the letters and read them.
Dearest Beau,
You have only been gone a few hours, but I feel totally devastated. I don’t know how I can bear this separation. I know you said it would only be a matter of months. I am trying to be brave, and I will be a good navy wife, I promise, and cope.
I love you always,
Anne
Precious Annie,
I wanted to tell you all this before I left, but somehow the words didn’t come or come out right. I think you know how much I love you and will miss you. I miss you already and we’ve just said good-bye. In the short time I’ve known you (how many weeks has it been? Sometimes I feel I’ve known you forever. I know I will love you forever), you have made my life so complete. There was an emptiness in it that I didn’t even know was there until you came and filled it.
I wish we had had time to go to Virginia so my mother and father could meet you, get to know and love you as I’m certain they would. I’m glad we opted for the small wedding on the base, with only
the chaplain and Dick and Myrna to stand up for us. We had little enough time as it was, and since I’d just received my orders, I really was selfish enough to just want to have you to myself. I’ll write again as soon as I can. Until then know that I consider myself the luckiest man in the world.
Ever yours,
Beau
Lt. (jg) Beaumont Montrose
Dearest Beau,
It still seems funny to me to get a letter addressed to Mrs. Beaumont Montrose. The first thing I do every evening when I get home from work is to check the mailbox see if there is a letter from you. I miss you so dreadfully.
Yours always,
Anne
There were several short, similar letters; then Joy came to another one:
Beau Darling,
The most wonderful news. I hope you will be as happy as I am to know we are going to have a baby. I know we talked about having a family someday, but it’s going to be sooner than we thought. And I am so glad, because it takes away some of the loneliness to know that part of you is with me. Of course, I am sad that you won’t be here with me to welcome him (or her?). But it won’t be long now, will it? Your tour of duty will be over soon, and you’ll be home with us— funny to say us!
Annie, My Love,
I’ve just been sitting here thinking of our future. It’s going to be so great. I can’t wait to take you and our baby back to Mayfield and show off both of you to my parents. I wrote Mom and Dad as much as I could about you, but meeting you in person is ten times better. I kept my promise and didn’t tell them about the baby. That’s your privilege. Mom said she had received a sweet note from you that included the pictures Dick took at our wedding. They are both anxious to meet you. They are going to Scotland this summer because my dad’s mother has not been well and they want to visit her. That’s something we’ll do, too, sweetheart, when this whole thing is over and I’m back in the good old U.S.A. Did I tell you I have a bunch of relatives in Virginia that are all wanting to meet you and entertain us? You’ve never seen southern hospitality until you’ve experienced it Virginia-style. Our home, Montclair, has been in the family for generations, but it’s not a fancy palatial mansion—just homey and welcoming. I think you’ll love it. It’s a great place for kids to grow up—there are horses, dogs, trees to climb, woods to play in. I can’t wait to begin my life with you there, darling Anne. Take care and I’ll write again soon.
That was the last letter in the pile. Joy looked at the date of the letter, then unfolded the yellowed telegram that was at the bottom. It was from the secretary of the navy.
We regret to inform you that your husband, Lt. (jg) Beaumont Montrose, died gallantly in action…
The date was only a few days after that of the last letter.
Tears rolled down Joy’s face, and she didn’t bother to wipe them away. She had looked into a piece of history, into two young lovers’hearts. Her mother had been nineteen, her father twenty-three. But they had left a living legacy of their love for their daughter.
Joy stayed an extra day because a friend of Molly’s had planned a buffet dinner party especially to include her, so she did not get back to the city until late in the day of December 31.
Evan was at the bus station to meet Joy. He had called her at Molly’s to find out what bus she was taking and when it would arrive.
When she got off the bus and saw him, Joy felt a surge of happiness. Slowly they moved toward each other. Evan was smiling as she had never seen him smile before. When he reached her, they stood for a moment, just looking at each other. He took her face in both hands, lifted it, and kissed her, then said, “Welcome back.”
Their kiss seemed the most natural thing to have happened. When it ended, Joy’s head felt a little dizzy, almost exactly as it had after their first encounter, when they bumped into each other outside the hospital elevator. Remembering that, Joy laughed a little.
“What’s funny?” Evan asked, picking up her suitcase and tucking her hand through his arm as they walked to his car.
“I was just thinking about how we met.”
“That was a long time ago. Months. It seems like light-years. I feel as if I’ve known you forever.”
They walked through the frosty early evening air to the parking lot. He opened the car door for her and she got in. He came around the other side and settled in behind the wheel, then turned to her. The light from the dashboard illuminated her face, and he leaned over and kissed her again. “I missed you, Joy.”
“I missed you, too, Evan,” Joy said, realizing just how much she really had, how much having him there waiting on the bus station platform had meant to her. “I’m sorry if you made plans for New Year’s Eve…”
“My only plan was spending it with you.”
“Did you want to go somewhere?”
“Not really. Did you?”
“Actually, I’m pretty tired. It’s been a busy week.”
“Then I’ll take you home.”
On the way, Evan drove with one hand on the steering wheel, and with the other hand he reached for Joy’s. “Did I tell you I missed you?”
“Yes, Evan, you did,” she said, laughing.
“Did I tell you I was also going to feed you?”
“No, but that’s your usual M.O.”
“I had the Pampered Gourmet fix us a special dinner. All we have to do is pop it in your microwave and open the bottle of chilled sparkling cider. How does that sound?”
“You think of everything, don’t you?”
“I try,” he said, squeezing her hand before he released it and turned into the gate leading to Joy’s water tower apartment.
They ate leisurely in Joy’s intimate little dining area, sharing some of the events of the week they’d been apart. Evan supplied hospital news, while Joy described some of the homey details of her holiday.
“People are giving the mural rave reviews,” Evan told her.
“Wait until they see the centurion panel,” she teased.
“One thing has become very clear to me this week,” Evan said, making a toasting gesture with his glass. “I’ve fallen in love with you, Joy.”
Instinctively Joy drew back. “Oh, Evan, I never meant that to happen.”
“Oh, my darling, you’re such a child. Couldn’t you see this was happening?” Evan said very gently. “How in the world could I resist you?”
All the warning flares went up, but Joy was too dazzled to see them. Evan leaned across the table, searching her face, then kissed her with great sweetness.
Before she could react, they heard the sound of whistles blowing, factory horns blaring, church bells ringing out through the wintry night.
Evan stood up, held out his hand, drew her up onto her feet, and with his arm around her waist led her out onto the small balcony outside her door. There he took her slowly into his arms. “Happy New Year, sweetheart,” he said and kissed her.
An hour later Evan was gone. The apartment seemed cold, empty, and full of shadows. Joy stood at the window looking out. More snow had fallen, drifting over the benches and gathering on the lampposts of the park across the way. A misty moon shone through the dark, bare branches of the trees, which resembled etchings on white paper.
The windowpane was frosted, and she pressed her face against it and with her finger drew two hearts on the icy glass, scratched “JM” and “EW” in the centers.
He loves me and he knows I love him. At first Joy felt that her heart might burst with the wonder of it. It was like skyrockets going off within her. But then, like skyrockets that light up the sky for a few seconds before fizzling out and dropping into darkness, her feeling of elation fell away, leaving her somber and shaken.
If this love was real, what was she to do about it? Up until now her dreams, her hopes, her plans had all been for herself. All her life, love had been in short supply, yet she had managed to live without it. She had never dreamed that love would come to her like this, that a man like Evan would fall in love with her.
In spite of the things Evan had pointed out which they had in common, such as the fact that they were both alone in the world, without close relatives or family (Evan’s parents had died when he was in medical school, his only brother in a car accident years ago), their lives were still worlds apart. He was a successful surgeon, she a struggling artist. Could their love bridge these differences?
Joy did not know. She would have to decide. But first, as Molly had advised, she would have to pray about it.
chapter
15
BACK AT THE HOSPITAL Joy was anxious to tell Gayle about what she had found out about her parents during the holidays. The fact that her father was from Mayfield, Virginia, and lived in a place called Montclair seemed another strange coincidence linking the two young women.
She showed Gayle the last letter Beau Montrose had written to his young wife, describing his home. After Gayle read it, she looked at Joy. “Then it must be as I thought. My ancestors were slaves of the Montrose family and lived at Montclair.”
“Isn’t it incredible that neither of us knew anything about this and both ended up here at Good Samaritan?”
This common thread made their friendship closer. Gayle and Joy began to see each other at least once or twice a week. It wasn’t just that they shared a historical background but that they genuinely liked each other and enjoyed being together.
The lovely white snow of January merged into the grimy slush of February, in which new storms dusted a fresh layer over still-unmelted piles along ice-slick roads. People lost hope of ever seeing bare ground again. To make matters worse, torrential rain then turned the dirty snow into a kind of mire.
Joy usually was unaffected by weather, but now the unrelenting gray days seemed depressing. She began waking with an uncharacteristic heaviness of heart. She was plagued by doubts about her involvement with Evan. Besides this or maybe because of it, she was experiencing a block in her painting. The work that had brought her so much satisfaction now left her unfulfilled at the end of the day. She returned home drained with the effort. She had trouble sleeping and would wake up during the night, troubled about her relationship with Evan and worried about finishing the panels.