I laid my hand on his shoulder. Tears fell down my cheeks.
He kissed her again. “Sleep good, little girl. I’ll see you soon.”
Her room blurred from the water in my eyes as he led me out and shut the door without makin’ a sound. He was always annoyingly perfect at the stealth silence.
“Are ya sure ya don’t want to wake her?”
“Yes, I’m sure. She won’t understand what’s going on and it would only upset her.”
I followed him down the stairs where he fetched his pack and his rifle and slung each one over this shoulder.
“I’ve asked Rachel and now I will ask you, do me a favor, would you?”
“Anythin’.”
“Get her a big birthday cake. One with lots of frosting for her to smash with her hands and take a lot of pictures. In fact, take lots of pictures of everything. Every day. Every moment. Her first Halloween and her first Thanksgiving, even if she’s not eating anything. And her first Christmas, like maybe when you light the tree up for the first time or you let her do whatever she wants to the wrapped presents under the tree. Take pictures of it all so I can share the moments even though I’m not here.”
“I’ll have to save up for another camera since I sold my old one.”
He drew me into his body and kissed me. “I already bought you one. It’s in the kitchen.”
“But can we afford it?”
“Don’t you worry about that. Just consider it an early birthday and Christmas present to you. I will miss you. So much.”
“I’ll miss you too.”
“I’ll write you every chance I get.”
“Ya better.”
“I should get going.”
I moved around him, makin’ my way toward the front door. “Let me just grab my coat and I’ll walk down the street with you a little ways.”
He clutched my arm before I could get more than a few steps. “Don’t worry about coming with me. You can’t anyway. It’s probably better if you just stay here. Go back to bed.”
Go back to bed? Was he serious? Not only was I wide awake, but the thought of sleep, whether now or even in the days to come, felt like some distant want or desire that would forever slip through my fingers.
“Can’t I at least walk you some of the way?”
“It’s chilly outside and it’s still dark. Just stay here where it’s warm. Besides, you can’t leave Rachel.”
I nodded. “Right. I forgot.”
“It’s only a year. I’m sure I’ll be back before you know it and look at all the stuff that’s already happened to us in less than a year. Doesn’t it feel like it was just yesterday I bent down and picked up the scarf you dropped at the concert? You looked so beautiful that night. Out of all your girlfriends, you just stood out.”
“You called me ma’am that night.” I laughed.
“Guess I’m a southern boy at heart.”
“Even though ya grew up in San Francisco?”
“Yes, ma’am.”
I playfully slapped my hands on his chest. “I’m not that old.”
“I think what I remember the most of that night, and what I’ll always remember, is after we had fun in the car and we went down to the beach, your friends had lit a bonfire and we just sat in the sand, letting the flames keep us warm. I watched the firelight fleck across your face and I just knew I was going to marry you.”
“Ya did?”
“Of course, I did. I almost asked you right then and there.”
“How come you’ve never told me this before?”
He shrugged. “I don’t know. I guess it was a memory I kept just for me.”
“Ya know, if ya would have asked, I would have said yes.”
He snorted a laugh. “I guess I missed my chance, then.” He smiled and wrapped his arms around me. “I’ll be back soon. You’ll see. This year will fly by so fast and before you know it, I’ll be walking through that door.”
“Stay safe.”
“I will.”
“Ya come back to me, ya hear.”
“I will do that, too.”
After one final kiss, he strode for the door, and his footsteps mirrored my heartbeat. I closed my eyes, listenin’ to every noise as he twisted the doorknob, opened the door then shut it behind him. I dropped to my knees then curled my legs up into my chest as I fell over to my side, sobbin’, my tears dripped onto the floor.
I just needed to survive a year. Just a year.
It seemed so short, and yet, it seemed so long too. Twelve months, fifty-two weeks, three hundred sixty-five days, the more I thought of the time, the longer it felt, and I couldn’t help but wish for the days when time meant nothin’.
THIRTY-TWO
Rachel
September 1996
I laid the journal in my lap as I glanced up and out the window of Luke’s cabin. Although the sun was still high in the afternoon sky, a few dark clouds had rolled in. Whether or not they would unleash their rain, I didn’t know. But, they gave the beach a darker color, almost vibrant.
Reading how much a stranger loved me settled in my chest with an odd twist. I’d only known one man as my father and now I was suddenly forced to face the truth—what I had thought was now a lie. Charlie’s last words had been everything I figured they would be—a father casting his wishes to his daughter for her happiness and well-being, while also professing his deepest love. He had been the one to feel me kick while my mom was pregnant with me. He had been the one who had held me after I was born. He had been the one who brought me home from the hospital, enjoying all the newness of a newborn any little family—whether the first kid or the tenth kid—feels when they grow by one. He had also been the one to lay his hand on my chest the night he left, whispering those soft, loving words.
And I had no memory of any of it.
I shook the thoughts from my head and I picked the book back up, flipping through the pages until I came across the last entry.
Maggie
December 23, 1966
Dear Journal,
What a few months it’s been so far alone in this house. Rachel and I celebrated her first Halloween handin’ out candy to witches, goblins, and superheroes that came knockin’ on our door, then we had her first Thanksgiving with Doris and her children. Rachel didn’t partake in the meal of course, however, the food and the company made for a glorious day and I soaked up every second of it, knowin’ the next day and the weeks to come would bring Christmas—a holiday I both looked forward to as it was Rachel’s first one, but one I dreaded at the same time.
Of course, ya know I love me some Christmas, but this year is gonna be different.
While I’d spoken to my parents over the telephone, I hadn’t seen them since I left for college the summer before last. That afternoon only a blur in my mind now, I vaguely remember drivin’ away from their house with my suitcases packed in the trunk as I waved goodbye. I had held their hopes and dreams in the palm of my hand, desires that I’d then dashed when I got pregnant, got married, and dropped out of school.
Ya can imagine my surprise when Mama telephoned last week with the news they were plannin’ a visit to our house on base in Washington.
The thought of it all churned in my stomach, and I didn’t know if them missin’ the chance to see Charlie was a blessin’ or a curse. While he was their son-in-law, whether they approved of it or not, I couldn’t help but feel that Daddy would see him as nothin’ more than the man who ruined all the parts of me he held close. No longer his little girl, my innocence now tarnished. Ever the judgmental socialite, I could almost see the air of repugnance Mama was famous for too. Her eyes so perfectly skilled in the talent to pierce through any confidence you might have.
God knows I loved them, but God also knows how difficult they could be . . .
BRIIING. BRIIING.
“Hello?”
“Good morning, Mrs. Wilson?”
“Speakin’.”
“This is Private Benson at the base check-in. We h
ave a Mr. and Mrs. Halverson here. They say they are your parents and have come for a visit. Should we let them in?”
“Yes, please. They are my parents. They are here for the holidays.”
“Very well, Ma’am. Thank you.”
I slammed the headset back on the receiver and a growl rumbled in my chest. I’d been preparin’ for their visit the last several days, but with the moment now upon me, unease draped over my shoulders. My world suddenly clouded with the cloak of dread, it loomed with a heavy mist, hauntin’ me and tauntin’ me as if it was a class bully, makin’ funny faces at me and sayin’ things like nah, nah, nah-nah, nah.
I glanced around my house. Thanks to Doris and a couple of other ladies who helped me clean, every surface glistened while my carpet was fluffed to soft perfection. Or at least it was as close as it could get. Our belongings still consisted of second-hand items we had collected and bought from garage sales over the last several months. While I still was happy with how they looked, I had asked Doris to bathed Rachel while I went to the salon, hoping that a hair style and even a manicure, I could resemble the type of mother I always envied—one that looked as though she had it all together and had wrapped it up in a neat, little bow.
I just hoped Mama would see it the same way.
A car pulled up alongside the curb just outside the house, and it’s sleek olive-green paint, bright in the sunlight, reflected off the dustin’ of snow on the ground. My parents both stepped out of the car, their eyes followed the pathway through the tiny yard and up to the front porch.
“Hi Mama,” I said, openin’ the door. “Welcome to Washington.”
“Hello, Maggie.” Mama sauntered up the stairs, glancin’ to the left and right at the neighbor’s houses, her long eyelashes fluttered underneath her sunglasses.
Daddy strolled not far behind her with a suitcase in each hand.
“Hello, Daddy.”
“Hello, Maggie.” He kissed me on the cheek then moved through the door after Mama.
“I hope y’all had a nice trip.” I shut the door behind me and spun around to face them. They stood in the middle of my livin’ room. Their motionless figures like statues in my home.
“It was lovely. Thank ya for askin’.” Mama’s southern drawl was always thicker when she was uncomfortable or bothered, and today it was the thickest I’ve ever heard.
“Please, have a seat and make yourselves comfortable. Would either of you like a drink? I have water, of course, and I made some lemonade yesterday. I used Gran’momma’s recipe, not too sweet, not too sour.”
“No, thank you, we are both fine.” Mama answered for them both as she sat gingerly on the edge of one of the couch cushions and crossed her legs. She glanced all around the room. “So, this is base housin’, huh?”
“Yeah, it’s not much, but it’s cheap. We can’t really do anythin’ to it, though. I’d love to paint or put up some nice wallpaper, but it’s against regulation. It’s all right. Just means I’ll be able to do it to the house we buy when Charlie gets out of the army.”
“And have ya heard from him lately?”
“I received a letter a week ago. He says the fightin’ is pretty bad, but thankfully, he’s far away from it. For now. I know things can change from day to day.” I sat in the chair opposite them and folded my hands in my lap. “I can’t wait until he’s home again. Nine months left, and I’m countin’ down the days.
“Where is Rachel?” Mama asked.
“She’s upstairs sleepin’. She had a rough night, so she’s takin’ a bit longer of a nap. She should wake up soon, though.”
“We can’t wait to see her.”
“Really?” My word was like a breath on my lips and I brushed my hand over my chest.
“Ya say that like it shocks you.”
“Well, I just didn’t know how you’d feel meetin’ her.”
“What ever gave you that idea?”
“I don’t know. Nothin’, I guess. I just know you and Daddy weren’t too happy with me when I got pregnant and married.”
She squared her shoulders and cleared her throat. “Yes, well, while mistakes were certainly made, she’s still our granddaughter.”
I jerked my head. “Mistakes?”
“Ya did get pregnant out of wedlock and at just eighteen. We thought we were sendin’ you off to college to learn . . . not behave like a trollop with your friends.” She glanced over at the window. Her voice dropped to a whisper. “Jumpin’ in the bed with the first man who showed ya an ounce of attention. Your gran’momma would roll over in her grave if she knew you were behavin’ like ya were.”
“I didn’t just jump into bed with him. I fell in love with him.”
“But there is a right way and a wrong way to go about things. You get married and then you have children. I thought we taught ya better than that.”
“Taught me better? I’m sorry, but didn’t you and Daddy get married when you were nineteen?”
“But we didn’t have you before we got married.”
“I was married when she was born.”
“But ya weren’t when ya . . .” She closed her mouth tight, unable to say the words.
“When we had sex?”
“How dare you speak to us in such a disrespectful manner. Don’t ya have any respect at all in that thick head of yours?”
“It’s 1966 not 1906.”
“I think what your mama is tryin’ to say,” Daddy interrupted. “Is we were just shocked, but we are happy for ya and we can’t wait to meet our granddaughter.” He laid his hand on Mama’s leg and gave it a gentle squeeze.
She inhaled and exhaled a deep breath, closin’ her eyes for a moment. When she finally opened them, she wouldn’t meet my gaze. Instead she looked at the fireplace. “Where is your Christmas tree?” she asked.
“Huh?”
“Your Christmas tree. Where is it? Christmas is just a couple of days away and ya don’t have any decorations up.”
“I had planned on gettin’ one tomorrow,” I lied.
“Tomorrow? But that’s not enough time.”
“Well, I’ve been busy and haven’t had the time.”
“Haven’t had the time? Dear, you’re home all day with the baby. It’s not like ya have a job.”
“I know I don’t have a job. But I don’t have a stand anyway, so I just thought I’d skip it this year.”
Mama patted Daddy on his leg. “Dear, why don’t ya go into town and get a tree and a stand for us. We have to have something to put Rachel’s gifts under. Get some decorations too—some ornaments and lights, oh, and don’t forget some tinsel.”
As Daddy rose to his feet, so did I. “Ya guys don’t have to do that.”
“Yes, we do. Ya can’t have your daughter’s first Christmas without a tree.”
“I guess you’re right. But . . .” I darted over to the table near the door, fetchin’ my purse. “At least let me give ya money.”
“Oh, no, dear, that’s not necessary. It will be a gift from us.”
No matter how many times I tried to hand Daddy several dollar bills before he could get out the door, he shoved them away, shakin’ his head. As he closed the door behind him and made his way out to the car, I stuffed them back into my wallet, snappin’ it shut.
“It’s really nice of y’all to buy us a tree and all the decorations,” I said to Mama.
Still sittin’ on the couch, she tucked her folded hands tight into her lap. Her shoulders squared. “I spoke to Sherry’s mama the other day. Sherry’s still in San Francisco, workin’ hard on her arts degree. She says she’s havin’ the time of her life.”
“Well, that’s nice.” I made my way back over to the couch, settlin’ in beside her as I grabbed one of the pillows and hugged it. “I haven’t talked to her in months, nor have I written.”
“That’s not really surprisin’, Maggie.”
“Why do ya say that?”
“Ya two are just too different now.”
“I don’t understand.�
��
“Well, she’s livin’ the life ya should be livin’.” Mama didn’t look me in eye. Instead, her gaze still darted around the room as though she was mentally takin’ inventory of all her daughter’s failures. Used furniture, used lamps, photographs taken by me on our wall instead of the fine art adornin’ her richly painted or wallpapered walls in my childhood home that cost at least a dozen years worth of Charlie’s army wages.
“The life I should be livin’? Mama, just what are ya tryin’ to say?”
Without answerin’ me, she rose to her feet and shoved her hands on her hips as she marched over to the wall near the staircase, eyein’ the pictures hangin’ in a row. She bit her lip.
“Why are ya holdin’ flowers in this one? Were y’all in someone’s weddin’?”
“Yes. Mine.”
She clutched her throat with one of her hands. “And that was your weddin’ dress?”
“What should I have worn? Yours? Gran’mommas?”
“Don’t be foolish, Maggie.” She spun to face me. “And don’t be disrespectful. Do ya even know the heartbreak ya have caused your daddy and me? Gettin’ pregnant after only knowin’ the boy a short time and then just decidin’ to get married in front of a judge at the courthouse? We’ve had to lie to all of our friends. Which is hard when Sherry’s mama knows the truth. I live in fear every day she will get a hair up her tail and go tellin’ everyone our secrets.”
“Well, then, maybe ya shouldn’t keep them.”
“I beg your pardon?”
“What’s there to keep a secret? I’m happy. I’m married.”
“And with a courthouse weddin’.”
“What’s wrong with that?”
“It’s just . . . it’s just not how it’s done, Maggie. Do you remember Luanne Biggs, my friend Ethel’s daughter?”
“I guess so.”
“Well, she had a beautiful weddin’ at the country club over the summer with all these colorful lilies everywhere, and her dress was the talk of the town for weeks! It was stunnin’.”
Another Yesterday Page 33