approaching fury. A Marine? Who
in their right mind would marry
a Marine? I mean, when Spence
and I got married, I had no idea
what I was getting into. But you?
How could you marry Cole, knowing
what you do? Jesus, Ashley! I like Cole,
I do. but he’s a soldier, and that
means he’ll never belong completely
to you. What about your dreams?
They’ll always come second because
what the good ol’ U.S. of A. desires
has to come first. Why do you feel
the need to mess with the good thing
you’ve got going? Without that stupid
piece of paper, you can walk any time
you decide you’ve had enough. It’s not
like you have to get married, right?
“Have to? You mean, like, am I
pregnant? How old-fashioned of
you, Dar. And glad you have such
a high opinion of me. Like I don’t
understand how to use birth control?
Even if I didn’t, I’d never use it as
an excuse to get married. You didn’t
marry Spence because you were
pregnant, ri—?” Holy crap. This
is so not the time to bring up
her possible pregnancy. Besides, if
they got married because of that,
why would she have had an abortion?
No, that doesn’t make sense. And now
I’ve gone and put my foot in my mouth.
All I had to do was complete the word.
Instead, I skidded to a stop one consonant
sound short and now she looks at me
with suspicion, like I’ve been spading
her personal ground. “Sorry. Look, I’ve
dissected the marriage idea for years.
Alternately dismissed and embraced it.
I’ve stuck with Cole through amazing
highs and impossible lows. That has to
be worth something. This has nothing
to do with being pregnant, although
I wouldn’t mind having kids at some
point. Don’t you want a family, Dar?”
Why do I keep shooting off my mouth?
Then again, I’ve opened the door.
She sighs. I don’t know. Maybe.
But it isn’t high on my list. Right
now I have to get through this
mess before I can even think about
the future. Any future. But whatever
happens, I won’t have kids with Spence.
SHE LEAVES THE CALZONE
Untouched. Goes to her liquor cabinet.
Doesn’t ask if I want some, doesn’t try
to explain why she does. She pours two
glasses of something clear. I can’t see
the label from here. Alcohol to smudge
the edges—the grunt way. “Please eat
too, okay? I mean, I slaved all day to
make that incredible calzone for you.”
The humor blunts the tension. Dar nibbles
a little, drinks a lot. Gin, it turns out. Not
my favorite, especially straight, but I go
ahead and join her. When things get a bit
fuzzy, she clears her throat. Ah-um.
I was pregnant when I married Spencer,
Ash. Everything just happened so fast,
you know? My mom would probably
have supported me, but my dad would
have killed me. A wedding seemed like
the easiest solution. Spence was so happy.
But then he went away, and he was gone
for so long. I couldn’t imagine raising
a baby alone. I mean, I was just a kid
myself. I wanted to go out. Wanted to
party. Diapers and bottles and whatever?
I just couldn’t do it. She pauses, and her
face contorts, a precursor to the tears
that follow. I had an abortion, Ash. I
thought it would be easy, but it was
awful. I’m sorry I didn’t tell you.
Some things shouldn’t be kept secret.
Rewind
SOME SECRETS BITE
And sometimes it’s just a fluke that
they are dragged out into the light.
After the Disneyland birthday fiasco,
Cole put in for holiday leave and we
actually celebrated Christmas together.
He had met my parents the previous
year, and since we were still a thing,
he decided it was finally time to take
me home to Wyoming. It was blowing
Christmas Eve snow when we landed at
the little airport. A white-knuckle landing,
which had me uptight. I’ve been through
worse, Cole soothed. And so has this pilot,
I’m guessing. Anyway, God’s smiling.
Felt more like God was pissed off
to me, but he arranged for a safe
touchdown on the small runway.
Cole’s mom was there to meet us,
along with her new leading man, Dale.
I was so nervous, I was shaking, and
not just because of the weather.
What if she hated me? She and Cole
were so tight. I had crazy ideas about
some imposing Wild West woman wanting
to keep Cole and me apart. Instead, I met
a gentle lady, countrified, to be sure, but more
Bridges of Madison County than True Grit.
I’m not sure how someone so petite
could have created a son as beefy as Cole,
but next to him she resembled a fairy—tiny.
Delicate. Almost gossamer. All she needed
was wings. When she saw us, her smile
was a bonfire against the blizzard outside.
It was a small surprise, midst bigger ones
soon to come. Cole’s embrace lifted her
off her feet. When he spun her around,
she insisted, Put me down, you. I want
to meet your girl. She took my cold hand
in her warm one. So happy to meet you,
Ashley. I’m Rochelle, and this is Dale.
COLE HAD MET DALE
The year before. Dale was dating
Rochelle then, but she still lived
in town. On her own. Turned out,
things had recently changed. A lot.
Rochelle directed us to Dale’s big
Suburban. Guess you should know
that Dale moved me out to his ranch.
Me, and everything I own. You’ll love
the place. Even under all this snow.
The ten-minute drive took us
almost thirty, at blizzard-driving
speed. Finally, we pulled up in front
of a low ranch-style house. We fought
our way through the pelting ice to
the front door. Inside, it was warm
and inviting, and Rochelle had done
the place up right, with garland and
mistletoe and a huge Christmas tree.
Cole whistled, and she said, I could
never give you this kind of Christmas
before. Glad I can give it to you now.
I only wish your sister could be here
to share it with us. I wished then that
I could have met her, to have known
someone he cared so much for. We
would never share that connection.
Chalk up yet another small regret.
DALE’S HOUSE
Was enormous. It must have been
awful living out there alone. No wonder
he was anxious to move Rochelle in.
Your bedroom here is exactly like it
/>
was at home, she told Cole. Except,
there’s a whole lot of extra space
around the furniture. It’s a little bigger.
It was big, all right. Like the rest of
the house, it had aging wood floors
brightened—and warmed—with
Southwestern-style throw rugs in
turquoise and orange. Two big
windows looked south, toward
the frosted hills. See? said Rochelle,
proudly, I even arranged it just like
it was before. Same lamp on your
desk. Same clothes in your drawers.
I want it to feel like home to you.
It’s great, Mom, he said, perhaps a bit
stiffly. Will you give us a few minutes
to unpack, please? She gave us a funny
look and when she left, I asked, “Is it
okay that we sleep in here together?
Not being married?” No guest room?
Don’t worry about it. They’re not
married, either, you know.
THAT WOULD CHANGE
Practically right away. The smell
of roasting turkey woke us late morning
on Christmas day. Rochelle was up
early to bake pies and put the bird in
the oven. By the time we dressed and
went in search of coffee, the kitchen
looked like a page out of Martha Stewart
Living. My mom always made the holidays
nice. This was amazing. Later, Cole
assured me it was not Christmas-as-usual.
There was a reason beyond Rochelle’s
wanting to make the holiday special.
I hate to spring this on you, she told Cole,
as she handed him a mug of Christmas
blend “Joe.” But we just made the decision
a couple of days ago. See, Dale and I
want to get married, and we want to do
the deed while you’re here. Today, in fact,
if Reverend Scott can get his butt out here
through all this snow. You good with that?
Cole is not the type to wear emotion
on his face. He sat very still for several
seconds, turning it over in his mind.
Finally, he nodded. I never liked you
living all on your own. Dale seems like
a decent guy, though you’d know more
about that than I would. If you want to
make it legal, I guess I’m good with it.
IT WAS A MEMORABLE CHRISTMAS
Dale had wanted Rochelle to break
the news without him present. Not sure
if he thought Cole would react badly or
what. Once he knew Cole had, in fact,
given his blessing, we all exchanged
gifts. Cole gave me a pretty filigreed
gold locket. I gave him a Christopher
medal. “To keep you safe over there
and here at home.” Remnants of my
Catholic upbringing. I don’t embrace
it, but can’t quite let it go completely.
Reverend Scott fought his way through
the driving snow and arrived just past
one p.m. Cole let him in, took his coat,
and by the time the minister had warmed
his hands in front of the fire, the happy
couple was ready to tie the knot. All
decked out in his very best sapphire
silk shirt, string tie, and Stetson hat,
Dale looked every ounce the cowboy.
Rochelle wore a plain peach-colored
dress and the prettiest smile ever.
A soft, sweet kiss served as the amen
for the simple nuptials. Reverend Scott
stayed for turkey and trimmings, with
pie and eggnog for dessert. It was merry,
indeed. None of us knew then that some
covert cancer cell had infiltrated
Dale’s stomach. And it was multiplying.
BUT THAT WAS THE LAST THING
On any of our minds.
It probably would have
been the perfect trip
except for a random
discovery that almost
dissolved the bond
between Cole and me.
Over time, his mom and
I had learned to divvy up
Cole’s love. I might have
been his heart, but she was
his blood. Both, we knew, were
necessary to keep a guy alive.
I think she was used to letting
go of those she loved—her
awful husband. Her lovely
little girl, who went home
too young. With them, she
had no choice, but she opened
the door for Cole. And, like
the old saying goes, he came
back to her. He always would.
I had no problem with that,
or with knowing he loved her
at least as much as me.
Probably more. I wasn’t
jealous of that. It was time,
lost to her, that I sometimes
resented. As the years marched
on, even that stung less.
COLE’S MOM
Was not responsible for
the extreme attack of jealousy
I suffered a couple of days
after Christmas, although when
the whole thing first went down,
I wondered if she had encouraged
the source. At the time, I was feeling
isolated. Unsure of the trembling
ground I stood on. I had no clear
idea if Rochelle was in my corner,
or wanted to slam her front door
in my face. She had seemed so
welcoming. Had I just been naïve?
My own mom, who has had plenty
of reasons to suffer the bite of
the little green monster, once told me,
The only person jealousy hurts
is the one who’s feeling its sting.
You can’t make someone love you.
You can’t force faithfulness.
If those things don’t exist for your
partner, you have the choice to stay
or go. Either way, you are in charge.
Jealousy works against you. It takes
control away from you, hands it over
to the opposition. Maintain control.
PROBABLY A VALID PHILOSOPHY
Truthfully, throughout most of my life,
I had nothing to be jealous about.
Yeah, a few parts in plays that went
to less talented people—at least
I thought so at the time. Who knows?
But as far as relationships, the only
one who mattered enough for me to feel
that sort of possessiveness about
is the one I have now. So far, there
have been only a few green monster
attacks. Most were of the “little” variety.
Other women at bars—vampires, mostly.
Sometimes those girls were downright
“don’t take no for an answer” pushy,
trying to steal Cole away from me right
under my nose. He laughed it off, but
I didn’t find it funny. And after enough
alcohol, it led to an argument or two.
But nothing he couldn’t get me to laugh
about later, not to mention his making me
feel just the slightest bit petty. There
are lots of pretty girls in the world,
he would say. But I fell in love with
you. No girl can ever change that,
or tempt me away. I believed him.
Felt like a total jerk for thinking bad
> of him. Until the day I came across
Lara’s letters. Then, I didn’t know what
to believe. Then, I almost hated him.
LARA WAS HIS COLLEGE SWEETHEART
The one he claimed to be nothing
more than a dusty memory.
It was the last day of the Christmas
visit to Wyoming—a Sunday.
Cole got up and went to church with
his mom and Dale. I lounged in bed.
When I finally roused myself, the house
was cool. Jeans and a long-sleeved T
couldn’t fight the chill, but my jacket
was too much. My Southern California
“warm clothes” were laughable, so I dove
into Cole’s drawers, looking for a sweater.
I found a nice green one, and underneath
it, a small bundle of handwritten letters.
Well, who wouldn’t look? Up until that
minute, I hadn’t given a second thought
to Cole’s ex-girlfriend. Didn’t even know
her name was Lara, or that she lived
in Denver. Loved to ski, and sometimes
took her Australian shepherd with her.
Had no idea that before Cole left school
they had talked about getting married,
or that his decision to join the Marines
was the only reason she had changed
her mind. One of her letters made it
very clear that she was staunchly
antiwar, anti-Bush/Cheney, anti-
anything or anyone who supported
them. If I had stopped reading there,
I would have been okay. But others
came after—love-drenched apologies
and entreaties to be safe overseas.
And this one:
So happy you’re safe and sound, back on American
ground. I was out of my mind, worried about you.
Without your emails, I would have freaked completely.
I would love to visit you in Hawaii. Maybe next
summer. Meanwhile, I can’t wait to see you at
Christmas. Your mom invited me to dinner.
Hope that’s okay. Don’t want you to feel awkward.
Love always,
Lara
Christmas 2008, while I waited in Lodi
for him to join me, he was with her?
I FOLDED THE GREEN SWEATER
Put it back in the drawer.
I didn’t feel cold anymore.
At least, not the kind of cold
a sweater could fix. The pulse
at my temples picked up until
it beat so hard I could see it
in the mirror, pushing against
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