More tears poured down her face, so many that she stopped trying to dry them. She couldn’t stop them. “Thank you,” she whispered hoarsely. “Is this the surprise your mother promised me?”
Another chuckle echoed through the phone. “Probably so.”
“I love you so much,” she said again.
“I love you, too, darlin’. I gotta run, though. I’m outta time. I’m so glad I got to hear your voice.”
She wasn’t ready to let him go yet. She hadn’t gotten to hear his voice long enough. “Don’t go,” she pleaded. “Please.”
“Baby, I have to. I only get a few minutes. I love you, though, and I’m thinkin’ about you always.”
“I love you, too,” she whispered.
“Bye, baby.”
A horrific sob tore through her, and she whispered good-bye before sliding down the wall to the floor, the phone receiver falling from her hand and left dangling from the cord.
The next thing she knew, Mrs. Walker was sitting beside her, her arm around Lorrie’s shoulders. “Shh, honey. Don’t cry. I know it’s hard.”
Hard didn’t even begin to describe it. Having finally heard his voice after all this time… It was as though she’d been sliced open and forced to relive the pain from the day he’d left all over again.
And God only knew how long it would be before she got to hear his voice again.
chapter SIXTEEN
SATURDAY, OCTOBER 2, 1965
Mrs. Walker bought a new television. This one is even bigger than the last one. She said I could put the other one in our house if I want to. Since I’m not living there right now, I told her we could keep it here. She’s so nice to me. And she makes sure that I don’t have too much idle time. She says it’s not healthy to sit around and wait. I’ve been trying not to, but it’s not easy. I finally convinced Carol to teach me how to cook. Although it’s not her usual job, I heard her talking about how much she enjoys it. It’s a slow process, but I’m getting the hang of it.
Every day, I keep hoping that Curtis will show up and surprise me with a visit home or, at the least, another phone call. I need to hear his voice again.
I have spent a lot of time at the library. Reading is helping a lot. And Kathy and Celeste have come over a few times to watch television with me, although they don’t let me pick what we’re gonna watch. Now that we have a bigger television, I’m sure they’ll be over here even more. I wonder if Curtis will be happy that we’ll have a television when he gets home. When he first gets home, I don’t think it’ll matter. I secretly look forward to making love to him for the first time. I know he thinks I’m not ready, but I am. Or I want to believe I am, anyway. I just want to feel his arms around me, holding me tight. My body gets excited when I think about it. Not that I want anyone to know that.
THURSDAY, OCTOBER 21, 1965
Today is Curtis’s twentieth birthday, and I hate that I don’t get to spend it with him. I made him a cake, hoping it would make me feel better. It did while I was baking, but not so much after. Only because he isn’t here to have any. I had hoped he would call today, but he didn’t. Mrs. Walker assured me that he’s busy doing what he needs to do so that he can come home to me. That didn’t make me feel any better.
THURSDAY, DECEMBER 2, 1965
It’s been a whole year since I’ve seen Curtis. To be honest, I don’t know how I made it all this time. Even though Mrs. Walker surprised me and I got to talk to him on the phone (hearing his voice was both the best and worst thing that has happened to me all year), it still hurts that I can’t see him.
At times, I think he’s avoiding me. That he doesn’t want to talk to me. Maybe because it hurts too much knowing that we can’t be together. I feel the same way, but my heart still longs for him.
I can’t wait to get another letter from him.
Letter from Curtis:
December 14, 1965
Lorrie,
God, baby, I miss you so much. I can’t stop thinking about you. I lie here on my bunk at night and think about holding you, touching you, kissing you, making love to you until the sun comes up. Sometimes, I think about you so much that my heart hurts.
Ever since I heard your voice, I haven’t been the same. It’s so hard knowing that you are there, that me being away is so hard on you. I even cry sometimes, which makes me feel weak. Still, I can’t help it. I’m going crazy because I think about you all the time. I wish that I could come home, but at least I’m busy here. I’m undergoing some additional training right now. Turns out that being a mechanic is a pretty big deal. Good thing I know a lot about engines, huh? If everything goes well, I might be sent somewhere else, which is something to look forward to. We don’t know yet if we’re being sent to Vietnam. It’s a possibility, but then again, anything is a possibility. I like it here, but I really think I need something more to do.
I’m attaching a picture. It’s one they took of me by one of the vehicles we’re working on. I thought maybe you’d like to have it.
If you can, please send me a picture of you.
I love you.
Curtis
chapter SEVENTEEN
~ 1966 ~
Letter from Lorrie:
January 24, 1966
Dear Curtis,
I think I actually squealed when I got your letter and I saw the picture. It was the first time I’ve seen you in more than a year, and I broke down and cried again. But these were good tears, because I now have something that I can look at every day. Your mom got me a picture frame, and now I have it sitting on my nightstand, where I can look at you every night before I go to sleep. I got your mom to take a picture of me, and I’m putting it in the envelope.
Your mom got a letter from Gerald. He’s doing well, she says. Since he was wounded, they gave him the opportunity to come home, but he refused. Says there is so much he needs to do, that he isn’t willing to sacrifice what he’s already given up just yet. He’s still not coming home, and I think that makes her sad. I can’t imagine what she’s going through having two of her sons away from home. I know if I were her, I’d be sad, too.
Oh, and I forgot to tell you, I got to ride a horse for the first time. Joseph taught me. It’s now one of my favorite things to do. Once the weather warms up, I’m hoping to start riding more. If your mom will let me. According to your sister (Daphne), your mom is a little overprotective, so it might take a little coaxing on my part.
Miss you and love you always!
Love,
Lorrie
MONDAY, FEBRUARY 14, 1966
It’s Valentine’s Day, a day that I wasn’t really looking forward to. Not that I’m celebrating, because Curtis isn’t here, which makes it so hard. I feel like I’ve spent too many years without him, and it’s only been one. Just when I thought my life couldn’t get better (when we got married), he left. According to his letters, he’s doing good. He says he misses me, too.
I worry about him a lot. Worry that he’s going to get hurt or… I try not to think about the worst parts, but I can’t help it. What if he never came back? Where would my life be then? He’s the reason I breathe, and I wouldn’t know what to do without him.
I’ve read his letters over and over, especially the parts where he says he can’t wait to come home. Sometimes he even tells me that he cries. That breaks my heart the most. I hope he knows I will always be here waiting for him. Always.
WEDNESDAY, MAY 14, 1966
Tonight was my senior prom. I didn’t go, although David offered to take me if I really wanted to go. It was sweet of him, but I know Curtis probably put him up to it. The last thing I want to do right now is dance or celebrate. I’ll reserve all of that for when Curtis finally does come home. It was kinda fun to see Joseph and his date get dressed up, though. They looked happy.
WEDNESDAY, MAY 25, 1966
I graduated from high school today, along with Joseph. Mrs. Walker and all the kids came, as well as Kathy and Celeste. Mrs. Walker gave me a card that Curtis had sent for the occa
sion (which was the highlight of the day). Momma and Daddy said they couldn’t make it. I hadn’t expected them to, but it still hurt my feelings that they didn’t make the effort. Now I don’t know what I’m going to do with the free time I have. Mrs. Walker is letting me make a lot of the meals now that I’ve gotten a handle on the whole cooking thing, which I really enjoy doing. I’m also working on the ranch, and I’m hoping she will allow me to do that more. I think she worries about me getting hurt, but I’m careful. I just need to find the courage to talk to her about it, because I really need this. I need something to do to keep my mind off Curtis.
SUNDAY, JUNE 26, 1966
Oh, my goodness. You won’t believe this! Helen Jenkins got married today. The boy she married isn’t from here, and she won’t be staying in Granite Creek (probably because she thinks she’s too good for it). I wasn’t invited, but I didn’t expect to be. Helen has been making fun of me. Always telling me I’m wasting my life waiting on Curtis. She doesn’t understand that I live and breathe for that man. I’ll wait an eternity for him if I have to.
Letter from Curtis:
July 26, 1966
Lorrie,
Hey, baby. Today is your eighteenth birthday. As I sit here and stare at your picture, I wish that I was there with you. It’s weird to think that another birthday has come and gone.
I haven’t been doing a whole lot lately other than staying here on base. I’ve gotten out with the guys a few times for drinks, but it’s not the same since I can’t be with you. They spend a lot of time trying to hook up with girls, but I have absolutely no interest. You are my girl, the only girl in the world for me. In fact, I’m thinking about getting a tattoo with your name on it. Those are a big deal here. Everyone wants one. What do you think about that? Would you want me to get your name tattooed on my body?
When I’m working, it feels like time flies, but when I’m here in my bunk, all I can do is think that time is crawling by so slowly. Instead of waiting for school to start, you’ll be… It just dawned on me that I don’t know what you want to do now that you’ve graduated. You’re so smart; I know you could do anything you want. And Lorrie, I want you to know that I will support anything you want to do. Whether you want to go to college, or if you want to work on the ranch, or if you want to stay home and take care of the house (and ultimately all the kids we plan to have). It’s up to you, baby. Anything you want.
I love you.
Curtis
Letter from Lorrie:
September 2, 1966
Dear Curtis,
Your letter made me both happy and sad, I won’t lie. I could almost picture sitting on the couch with you and having that conversation about what I want to do now that I’m finished with school. But I also sensed that your letter was short for a reason. I’ve been hoping I was wrong, but I’m starting to think that you are purposely avoiding me. That breaks my heart.
And no, I didn’t have to go back to school this year. It was a little strange to see your brothers and sisters heading out while I was still sitting in the house. I don’t know what to think about that yet. In fact, I don’t think much about it at all. School gave me something to do, but that’s it. I really like working on the ranch. I also help Carol when I can. I can honestly tell you that I would never want a housekeeper or a cook of my own. I like taking care of my own things. The only thing that would make me truly happy would be to take care of you and our family. Maybe I’m not supposed to feel that way anymore. I don’t know. I’ve been reading books that say women are allowed to embrace the world. For me, I am.
When we have kids, I would definitely want to stay home with them, if I can. It’s not that I don’t want to work. Helping out on the ranch has been thrilling. I never thought I’d enjoy it after Daddy always complained how bad it was. Maybe it’s the fact that I’m working for my family. (I am, after all, a Walker now.) Whatever it is, I’m just trying to make it one day at a time.
Speaking of kids … I’m ready, Curtis. I’m ready to make love to you, to spend the night in your bed, feeling your body hovering above mine. It’s all I can think about these days. Maybe this wasn’t the right way to tell you, but I had to get it out there. You need to know how I really feel. And no, this doesn’t have anything to do with the fact that I’m another year older. It’s just how it is. You are no longer allowed to tell me I’m not ready. That’s no longer your decision to make.
Love and miss you always and forever.
Love,
Lorrie
P.S. It took a long time for me to write that last paragraph. Like, two whole days.
P.P.S. I think a tattoo would be very sexy on you.
SUNDAY, OCTOBER 23, 1966
I suggested something new today. I asked Mrs. Walker if I could cook dinner and if we could have the entire family home for it. I was surprised to see the smile that lit up her face. She agreed, then the two of us worked in the kitchen together. She told the kids that they had to be here, and everyone showed up. Afterwards, I helped her clean the kitchen, and we agreed that, from now on, we would have supper together on Sundays. I like the idea of that. I think it’s a great tradition, one that I want to have with my own kids one day.
FRIDAY, DECEMBER 2, 1966
It has officially been two years since Curtis left. Two years since I’ve seen his handsome face (in person). He’s been sending me pictures, but those are still just images on paper and not as good as the real thing. I remember when he told me he enlisted, he said he would be gone for three years. I thought I would get to see him at least once. I thought that was how it worked, but it seems as though Curtis isn’t allowed to come home. He has only called a couple of times since the day I broke down on the phone, but he hasn’t spoken to me, only to his mother. I can’t exactly blame him. It probably wasn’t easy listening to me sobbing uncontrollably, so maybe that’s why he doesn’t call. He knows it’s hard on me. He has mentioned how much he is working, and I’m glad that he’s not on the front lines in harm’s way. That helps to ease my mind a little, but nothing would be better than if I got to see him. I miss him terribly.
chapter EIGHTEEN
~ 1967 ~
Letter from Curtis:
January 26, 1967
Lorrie,
There are two parts to this letter. First, the details on what I’m doing. The second … well, just keep reading.
Tensions are rising in North Vietnam. Things are escalating, and we got word today that we will likely be sent there. I know that isn’t what you want to hear, but honey, this is my job, my responsibility. I would give anything to come home to you, and if we can end the war, that’ll be possible. So please understand. I love you and I miss you.
Now for the second part… You mentioned in your letter that you’re ready to make love to me. If you only knew what that does to me, how that makes me feel. Even now, as I write this letter, I’m so hard I can hardly see straight. Remember the day that I kissed you for the first time? You asked me if I had ever kissed a girl? What you didn’t ask was whether or not I’d ever made love to a girl. I know there were always rumors going around about me, but Lorrie, I’m still a virgin, the same as you. I’ve never been with a woman before, and you’re the only woman I ever intend to be with. I have and will always put you first, but you should know right here and now, sending me letters like that makes my dick hard. It makes me think of all the things I plan to do to you when I get home. And baby, I plan to do a lot of things.
Now that that’s out of the way, I hope you know I love you, and even before you sent that, I ached to come home to you, now even more so.
I love you.
Curtis
P.S. Hold off before you send me another letter. The address is going to change. I’ll make sure you get that information.
FRIDAY, MARCH 3, 1967
I received another letter from Curtis, but this one wasn’t like the others. Then again, after the last letter I sent him, I didn’t expect it to be. I had managed to get up the nerve to tel
l him how I feel, and in return, he did the same. As I sit here, thinking about him, my body aches for his. In ways I never imagined.
BUT… If he thought he could throw me off by adding the sweet stuff in the middle, he is sorely mistaken. Even though I loved getting the letter so I could hear how he was doing, the last few words stole all the pleasure out of it. This one made me panic. Once again, I cried like a baby, but this time my heart is filled with fear. He’s being sent to Vietnam. I won’t lie and say I know much about what is going on other than what I hear in town or on television from time to time. It’s like the people here are turning against the soldiers, thinking somehow this is their fault. I don’t like that they think that way. I think I’ve been too scared to really focus on it, but I know it’s not good. They say the war has been going on for too long. That we will not win. I just want Curtis to come home to me.
People are dying, lots of people. I ask myself those what-if questions every day. What if he gets shot? What if he doesn’t come back the same as when he went away? What if, God forbid, he dies? What if I never get another chance to tell him how much I love him? The not knowing that he will come back to me is the hardest part. He owns my heart and my soul, and I can’t imagine living the rest of my life without him. Still, I try not to think about those things, but it’s hard.
I know these are rough times for both of us, what with having to be away from each other and all, but I know in the end it will be worth it. He will be home one day (hopefully soon), and we can start our life together when he does. I’m trying to be a grown-up about this because I’m no longer a child. I’m married now, and I have to remember that. No matter what, I refuse to regret any decisions that we’ve made, because in the end, these are the decisions that will lay the groundwork for our life.
MONDAY, APRIL 15, 1967
For just a moment, I’m going to stop pretending to be a grown-up. I miss my husband. I want him to come home. I’m so mad at him for leaving me behind. Sometimes it feels like someone cracked my chest open and is squeezing my heart. I’m trying to keep up appearances, smiling until my face hurts, laughing at everyone’s stupid jokes, cooking dinner, and acting as though I’m not being gutted every minute of every day that Curtis is away. I’ll keep this to myself because it doesn’t do anyone any good to hear it. I definitely don’t want Curtis to know. He has so much to deal with. But being without him is killing me. Slowly.
Curtis (Coyote Ridge) (Volume 1) Page 10