by Clare Revell
Reading. 29th June 1992.
Dear Oliver,
We took the kids to Disneyland Paris during half term! It opened in April and they loved it. We flew to Paris and then got a hire car. It was rather scary driving on the wrong side of the road, but Ezra does all the driving. No, I still haven’t learnt and don’t intend to. There’s a perfectly good bus service if I need to go anywhere alone.
Anyway, I digress. Disneyland Paris. There was a parade down Main Street, fireworks, shops, rides. Even Dorcas at 17 seemed to enjoy it. She preferred the rides as did Paul. Micah just wanted to see Mickey Mouse again and again. He even sleeps with the mouse ears on. Still at least he can spell M-i-c-k-e-y-m-o-u-s-e even if he doesn’t realise it!
Zipporah is a quiet, strange child. She’s most happy just staying by my side and doing nothing else. So, yeah, she’s fine. I hope. Though having said that, she never really has spoken much. Guess I didn’t notice as Paul or Dorcas tend to do the talking for her. At parents evening last week, her form tutor said her grades aren’t what they should be. He suggested it could be her hearing. Maybe I should take her to a doctor or something.
Love Connie.
PS. Starsky.
Breckenridge. 13th July 1992.
[Birthday card.]
Dear Connie,
Ha ha. No. And not Hutch either.
We took the kids to Disneyworld in Florida last month. Dad and Hayley came with the kids and we stayed for two weeks. David is only two so he slept most of the time. Patricia didn’t want to go on the rides, so she kept an eye on the stroller (pushchair). Anthony, Abi and Vicky were all for it, especially the roller coasters. I did one, then let Dad and Hayley take over as I really don’t like the silly things.
Sometimes I wish we lived closer to them, but I don’t want to live in New York again. Visits are fine and fun, but enough.
Although I would like to spend Christmas there again with Dad and Hayley and then New Year with Patricia’s parents. But you know, Christmas is a busy time for a pastor.
Actually, Christmas can be wearing. And now I’m going to tell you something I could never tell anyone else. Everyone loves Christmas, right? The tinsel, lights, movies, family dinners, presents, lots of time off work etc. Then there’s the midnight mass, the candlelit carols, the nativity, Christmas Day service.
When do I get time off? Because people still fall sick and need visiting. There are weddings, funerals, births… Life doesn’t stop just because it’s Christmas.
Okay. Rant over.
Love Oliver.
PS. Yes. It could simply be Zipporah’s hearing so please take her, just to rule that out. I’m praying that whatever the problem, they find out and can sort it out.
Reading 16th July 1992.
[Birthday card.]
Dear Oliver,
Happy birthday.
Love Connie.
Reading. 12th November 1992.
Dear Oliver,
After a GP visit and then a hospital referral we finally got the news about Zipporah. She has mild hearing loss in one ear. She taught herself to lip read to some extent and got by with the others talking for her, sitting in the front row at school and cribbing of the kid sitting next to her. They want to do more tests to find out how much hearing she actually has, but she’ll have a hearing aid.
He said it could have been caused by measles. I got measles when I was expecting her, but I didn’t think… She talks just fine, her school work was fine. At least in middle school. Guess the classes in secondary school are noisier.
I’m a bad parent. I didn’t notice until it was almost too late. She’s suffered for so long because I wasn’t paying attention.
Love Connie.
Breckenridge. 8th December 1992.
[Christmas card.]
Dear Connie,
You are not a bad parent. You did notice. You acted on it. If anything her teachers should have picked up on it sooner. The important thing is Zipporah is going to be fine. Lots of people manage with hearing aids.
Love Oliver.
Reading. 17th December 1992.
[Christmas card.]
Dear Oliver,
Each year I say I’m going to write more but honestly nothing happens. Except piles of laundry and ironing, cleaning and shopping.
Last night Ezra asked if I ever considered going back to work. Okay, I’m not past it. I’m 34, but I have no degree, no work experience, apart from working in his parents shop a little. I didn’t train as anything. I left school, got pregnant, got married and raised his kids. All I know is being a mum and running a house.
Ezra managed to find his Subbuteo set (it’s a football game with tiny little players and a cloth pitch) and he and Paul spend ages playing it. Of course Micah just trashes it which makes Paul cross.
Hope you like the card. I made it.
Love Connie.
PS. Sanders.
PPS. With her new hearing aids, Zipporah is like a new child.
Breckenridge. 7th February 1993.
Dear Connie,
No worries on the writing front. Sometimes we get so caught up in work and day to day home stuff that the weeks just slip by without us noticing. Honestly I’m still amazed you’re writing at all after 22 years.
Wow.
That doesn’t seem possible. 22 years! And to think I didn’t want to come here at all. Now I can’t imagine living anywhere else. But through it all, my one constant has been you. My one true friend. Who I can guarantee to send me the corniest birthday card each year and the sweetest Christmas card and for it to always arrive on time. Thank you for that.
Love Oliver.
PS. Not Sanders.
Reading. 28th April 1993.
Dear Oliver,
So Micah discovered Dorcas’s discarded Enid Blyton books and has decided he wants to go and live on the Faraway Tree and visit ice-cream land each Friday.
He walks around with a saucepan on his head and will only answer if you call him Saucepan Man. He starts school in September. Now that makes me feel old. Having my youngest child out of the house all day.
Ezra is still talking about me going back to work. Like I said, I can’t go back to something I never did. About the only thing I can do is write. I made up stories for Dorcas when she was little and she wants me to put them in a book. We’ll see.
Love Connie.
PS. Septimus.
Reading. 30th June 1993.
[Birthday card.]
Dear Oliver,
Happy Birthday.
Love Connie.
PS. Smokey.
Breckenridge. 15th July 1993.
[Birthday card.]
Dear Connie,
Happy Birthday.
Love Oliver.
PS. Not Septimus or Smokey.
PPS. Do it. Write it down.
Breckenridge. 1st December 1993.
[Christmas card.]
Dear Connie,
Early I know, but Patricia is extra enthusiastic this year. The tree went up at Thanksgiving. The outside lights are up and on and I’m Christmassed out already!
Love Oliver.
Reading. 17th December 1993.
[Christmas card.]
Dear Oliver,
I really do hate this time of year. Mum and Dad both died in November within a couple of hours of each other. They never really recovered from Lockerbie. Not sure any of us have.
I still catch myself looking at Paul and thinking there should be two.
Love Connie.
PS. Silas. Or should that be Scrooge?
Breckenridge. 31st December 1993.
[Postcard of the Town Hall.]
Dear Connie,
I get the last card of the year! Woo.
How’s the writing? Did you ever start?
Love Oliver.
PS. Not Silas.
PPS. 22 years and you still haven’t guessed what my middle name is. Told you that you never would. Give up.
PPPS. That makes you Mrs
Scrooge.
Chapter Six
Reading. 28th February 1994.
Dear Oliver,
Give up? Me? Never! I haven’t spent the last 22 years trying to guess your middle name to give up now. I have plenty more names beginning with S to go yet anyway.
Well, I started writing the stories down. Ezra bought me a computer which also connects to the World Wide Web thing. The kids work it far better than I do. I was perfectly happy with my typewriter. Although I have to admit, it’s far easier to correct mistakes on the new-fangled Word software.
However, handwritten letters are never going to go out of fashion, so you won’t get a typed or printed one any time soon.
It seems serious between Dorcas and her boyfriend, Jeff. They’ve been inseparable for 6 months now. He’s an apprentice mechanic, so he and Ezra talk engines for hours.
Went to church with Ezra last weekend. Might go again. We’ll see.
Love Connie.
PS. Shadow.
PPS. Zipporah now talks and sings nonstop. Which is lovely.
Breckenridge. 19th April 1994.
Dear Connie,
Actually Shadow is our dog! But nope, not my name either.
So ye of many years parenting experience, do you have any useful advice for me. Abi and Anthony are five and a handful. Neither like bed time or sitting at the table. Or veg. Apparently peas, beans in fact any form of veg, apart from fries, are pure evil.
Sorry this is so short, but we have mission week coming up and I have a week’s worth of services to prepare and write sermons for.
Love Oliver.
Reading. 3rd May 1994.
[Postcard of the Abbey Ruins.]
Dear Oliver,
Don’t have kids. Best advice ever.
Love Connie.
PS. Storm.
Breckenridge. 10th June 1994.
[Postcard of Main Street.]
Dear Connie,
Hah! No help at all.
Love Oliver.
PS. Not Storm.
Reading. 10th July 1994.
[Birthday card.]
Dear Oliver,
Happy last ever birthday – in your 30’s. Next year you really are an old man!
Love Connie.
Breckenridge. 17th July 1994.
[Birthday card.]
Dear Connie,
Happy Birthday.
Love Oliver.
PS. Where do you get these awful name suggestions from?
Reading. 5th August 1994.
Dear Oliver,
Sensible answer. Pick your battles. Wisely.
Proper advice:
No veg = no pudding.
Go to bed when told = 2 stories of their choosing.
Being told once = 1 story of their choice
Being told twice = my choice of story i.e. the shortest one possible.
Throwing a tantrum = no story at all.
Most important of all is no means no. Don’t change your mind when they scream for hours or the child wins the fight and knows they can get one over on you every single time. Who cares if they throw a hissy fit in a supermarket? Just walk away and leave them. Make a rule and stick to it. Just make sure you and Patricia both have the same rules.
Love Connie.
PS. Silver.
Reading. 5th September 1994.
[Wedding invitation.]
Mr and Mrs Ezra Johnson request the pleasure of the company
Of Mr and Mrs O Voight
At the marriage of their daughter Dorcas to Mr Jeff Cox
On 7th January 1995.
[Handwritten letter included.]
Dear Oliver,
She wanted to get married at Christmas! Can you imagine that? She settled for January in the end. She’s still having her red velvet bridesmaids.
Love Connie.
PS. Slater.
Breckenridge. 9th November 1994.
Dear Connie,
We can’t make the wedding I’m afraid. The church calendar is packed again and I have speaking engagements booked for well into March.
Are you still going to church with Ezra?
Patricia has been a little under the weather lately. No idea why.
The twins are fine. Stroppy, but they’re kids, and I guess it’s part of their job description.
Love Oliver.
PS. Nope. Not Silver or Slater.
Reading. 1st December 1994.
[Christmas card.]
Dear Oliver,
My turn to be extra organised this year. Happy Christmas.
Love Connie.
Breckenridge. 10th December 1994.
[Christmas card.]
Dear Connie,
Have a great Christmas and enjoy the wedding. Send us pictures.
Love Oliver.
Reading. 17th January 1995.
Dear Oliver,
It’s so weird not having Dorcas around. She’s always been there, either in bump form or person form.
The wedding was beautiful. She looked gorgeous. It was what I’d always dreamed mine would be when I was a child. Long white dress, lots of bridesmaids, and a church. Well, at least she had it.
Sometimes I wonder what life would be like if I hadn’t fallen pregnant with her. Would Ezra and I have ended up together? Things aren’t good between us. Not like before. Even worse this time. It’s our 20th wedding anniversary and he’s away. He’s always away. On a flight to the other side of the world, on days off or lay overs. Anything to be away from me.
Love Connie.
PS. Sanjay.
PPS. Hope Patricia is better now.
Breckenridge. 28th March 1995.
Dear Connie,
Thank you so much for the wedding photo. She looks so much like you. And you look pretty great too. Patricia put the photo on the mantelpiece. We both pray for you all daily. Our family across the pond she calls you.
She’s okay. Tires easily, but the twins are a handful still.
You never did say if you were attending church again. Are things better between you and Ezra now?
Love Oliver.
PS. Not Sanjay.
Reading. 19th June 1995.
Dear Oliver,
Actually things are pretty dire. When he is home he sleeps in Dorcas’s old room, citing being tired all the time. I found lipstick on his white uniform shirt collar so I have my suspicions.
And before you ask, no, I don’t wear makeup. I tried it once when I was 14. Got told I looked like a painted doll and never gone near it since.
You hear stories all the time about pilots and flight attendants. I’m going to talk to him and if he wants to leave he can. However, if he stays there have to be rules. And yes, I take the kids to church every Sunday. I’m still mad at God, but working on it. Ezra never goes now.
Love Connie.
PS. Selwyn.
PPS. How’s Patricia. Give her my love.
PPPS. Can I have a photo of your family for my fridge please?
Reading. 1st July 1995.
[Birthday card.]
Dear Oliver,
Happy 40th birthday. I hope the present arrives. It should come on your birthday. At least that’s when I’ve asked for it to be delivered.
Love Connie.
Breckenridge. 10TH July 1995.
[Birthday card.]
Dear Connie,
Have a great birthday.
Love Oliver.
Breckenridge. 21st July 1995.
Dear Connie,
Thank you so much for the flowers. Forty red roses! No one has ever bought me flowers before. I admit to being a little unsure about how I feel. Isn’t it meant to be the bloke who buys the flowers?
Anyway, thank you. They are gorgeous.
The town here is growing. The population is around 3000 now and thriving.
I’ve had this dream, several times now and I’m not sure if it’s the Lord telling me something, or if it’s my own ambition. I’m walking through a huge building, high ceilings, mar
ble floors and columns. It’s set in acres of land backing onto the mountains. It has to be around here somewhere as the mountains are the same as here. There are rooms filled with students, rooms with books, singing and there’s a chapel. But there is no such building for miles.
Patricia has good days and bad days. But her attitude is this is only temporary. She’ll have a perfect body in heaven.
Love Oliver.
PS. Nope. Not Selwyn. Although ironically enough I know a pastor called Selwyn and yes, he is Welsh. We met at a pastor’s conference in Colorado Springs in June.
Reading. 31st October 1995.
Dear Oliver,
Ezra is having an affair. He admitted it.
But I’m refusing to divorce him. ’Til death us do part is what we promised. Just because we got married in a registry office and not a church doesn’t mean the vows don’t count. Well, some don’t seem to, but that one vow he’s going to keep.
The rules are simple. When he’s home, he acts like nothing’s wrong in front of the kids. He sleeps in my room. We eat together. Do stuff with the kids together. Do normal family stuff. But that’s it. No touching. No kissing. He’s forfeited that right from now on. I’m his wife in name only. Just whilst the kids are still here. Dorcas is married, Paul is 17, Zipporah 15, but Micah is only 7. Once Micah has gone to university or left home, Ezra can leave. But I’m still not divorcing him.
Oh, and Christmas he spends with us.
He blames me for tying him into what he terms a loveless marriage. I’m not saying I didn’t contribute to the breakdown here, but he’s the one who strayed. He broke the vows not me. I’m not perfect, I’m broken, bruised, but I’m me.
And yes, still trying to guess what S stands for after 24 years.
Love Connie.
PS. Shirley.
Breckenridge. 16th December 1995.
[Christmas card.]
Dear Connie,
Shirley? Really? Have you seriously run out of boys’ names already that you insult me? Or are you implying I’m huge, fat, and a wrestler whose stage name was Big Daddy? Because none of those are true. Unless wrestling includes getting two 6 year-olds to stay in bed. They share a room and won’t have it any other way.