Debbie Macomber - Not Just For Christmas

“Barbara, the boy doesn’t need you to tell him that.”

Vaughn sipped his coffee. This was one conversation he had no wish to continue. “Carrie and I are going Christmas shopping tomorrow,” he said, instead.

His mother lowered the needlepoint to her lap and stared at him. “Carrie? Who’s Carrie?”

Vaughn didn’t realize his mistake until it was too late. “A friend.”

His mother raised her eyebrows as if his answer didn’t please her. “When did you have time to make friends?”

“She works with Hassie at the pharmacy.”

“I see.” It appeared his mother did see, because she said nothing more.

Vaughn wished he understood his own feelings. A week ago he would have rushed to return Natalie’s call. He wasn’t avoiding her, he decided, but the subject of Value-X and Buffalo Valley. In a matter of days—one day, really—he’d become oddly protective of the town … and its people. Hassie, of course, but Carrie, too. Natalie was bound to ask him questions he no longer wanted to answer.

One thing was clear; he needed to think the situation through very carefully.

Craving solitude, Vaughn swallowed the last of his coffee, then announced he was heading for bed.

His mother glanced up at the wall clock. “Aren’t you calling Natalie?”

He frowned. “Later. Don’t worry about it, Mom.”

“Vaughn has to rest up for shopping,” his father teased.

“Ah, yes, the great shopping expedition. Where will it be, by the way?”

“The mall here in town.”

“You’re actually going to a mall at this time of year?” His father looked at him as though he’d lost his sanity.

Vaughn gave a nonchalant shrug. He didn’t know what had possessed him to suggest he and Carrie meet at Columbia Mall. His excuse had been that Carrie was a wonderful source of information about the town. He’d never had the opportunity to bring up the subject of Value-X, and wanted to get her reactions to it. Or so he told himself.

The truth was, he wanted to know her better.

Hassie sat up in bed, her eyes on the photograph of her son on the bedroom wall. She looked at Jerry’s picture next and Valerie’s, then turned back to Vaughn’s. It was only natural that she’d be thinking about her son tonight.

Time passed with such inexorable swiftness, she reflected. She had startlingly clear memories of Vaughn as a toddler, stumbling toward her, arms outstretched. If she closed her eyes, she could almost hear his laughter. She’d loved to scoop him into her arms and hug him close until he squirmed, wanting to run and play with his older sister. As they grew older, Valerie had listened to his confidences and offered a big sister’s sage advice.

How carefree life had been for her and Jerry in the early 1950s. Simple pleasures had meant a great deal back then. She could think of no greater comfort than sitting with her husband after a day at the pharmacy, a day they’d spent working together. Jerry would slip his arm around her shoulder and she’d press her head against his. He’d loved to whisper the sweetest words in her ear, and oh, she’d enjoyed being in his arms. In those days, it seemed the sun would never stop shining and the world would always be filled with happiness.

Turning out the light, Hassie nestled under the covers and let her memories take her back. Valerie and Vaughn used to come to the pharmacy every afternoon after school. To this day she could still picture the two of them sitting at the soda fountain, waiting to be served an after-school snack. They were a normal sister and brother, constantly bickering. Valerie always teased Vaughn, and when she did, he’d tug her pigtails hard enough to bring tears to her eyes. Then it would be up to Hassie to chastise them both. Softhearted Jerry had left the discipline to her. Hassie hated it, but knew her children needed to understand that their actions had consequences.

The years flew by so fast! Looking back, Hassie wished she’d appreciated each day a little more, treasured each moment with her children while they were young. Before she could account for all the years that had passed, it was 1960, and Vaughn was in high school.

Jerry was especially proud of Vaughn’s athletic talent. He, too, had been a sports star in his youth. Vaughn had played team sports throughout his four years in high school, and they’d never missed a game. One or the other, and often both of them, were at his games, even if it meant closing the pharmacy, although they didn’t do that often. They always sat in the same section of the stands so Vaughn would know where to find them. When his team came onto the field, it wasn’t unusual for him to turn toward the bleachers and survey the crowd until he located his parents. Then he’d smile and briefly raise one hand.

Without even trying, Hassie could hear the crowds and recall the cheerleaders’ triumphant leaps, while the school band played in the background.

Watching Vaughn play ball had been hard on Hassie’s nerves. Twice that she could remember, her son had been injured. Both times Jerry had to stop her from running onto the field. She stood with the other concerned parents, her hands over her mouth, as the coaches assessed his injuries. On both occasions Vaughn had walked off the playing field unaided, but it’d been pride that had carried him. The first time his arm had been broken, and the second, his nose.

His high-school years had been wonderful. The girls always had eyes for Vaughn. Not only was he a star athlete and academically accomplished, he was tall and good-looking. The phone nearly rang off the hook during his junior and senior years. There’d never been anyone special, though, until he met Barbara Lowell in college. She’d been his first love and his last.

Hassie recalled how handsome he’d looked in his brand-new suit for the junior-senior prom, although he’d been uncomfortable in the starched white dress shirt. The photo from the dance revealed how ill at ease he’d been. His expression, Jerry had said, was that of someone who expected to be hit by a water balloon.

Hassie had suggested he ask Theresa Burkhart to the biggest dance of the year. He’d done so, but he’d never asked her out for a second date. When Hassie asked him why, Vaughn shrugged and had nothing more to say. Every afternoon for a week after the prom, Theresa had stopped at the soda fountain, obviuosly hoping to run into Vaughn. Each afternoon she left, looking disappointed.

Packing Vaughn’s suitcase the day before he went off to the University of Michigan was another fond memory. She’d lovingly placed his new clothes in the suitcase that would accompany him on this first trip away from home. Although saddened by his departure, she took comfort in knowing he’d only be gone for a few years. This wasn’t a new experience, since Valerie had left four years earlier and was attending Oregon State. She was working part-time and seemed in no particular hurry to finish her education. Jerry and Hassie had been reassured by Vaughn’s promise to return as a pharmacist himself. He shared their commitment to community and their belief in tradition.

Soon the kitchen table was littered with his letters home. The letter in which he first mentioned meeting Barbara had brought back memories of Hassie’s own—like meeting Jerry at college just before the war. The day that letter arrived, she’d sat at the kitchen table with her husband and they’d held hands and reminisced about the early days of their own romance.

Then the unthinkable happened. News of a war in a country she’d barely heard of escalated daily. The papers, television and radio were filled with reports, despite President Johnson’s promises to limit the United States’ involvement. Then the day came when Vaughn phoned home and announced, like so many young men his age, that he’d been drafted. A numbness had spread from Hassie’s hand and traveled up her arm. It didn’t stop until it had reached her heart. Vaughn was going to war. Like his father before him, he would carry a rifle and see death.