Debbie Macomber - Between Friends

Little David is getting big and sassy, just like his daddy. He’ll be five months old soon and already has a tooth coming in. I’m sending along a few more pictures so you can see for yourself how much he’s changing. He’s a good baby.

I know you don’t approve of my part-time job at the library, but the extra money is a blessing. You don’t need to worry about strangers watching David, either. Mom babysits for me. I’ve been putting the money I earn aside so I can join you in Hawaii the way you mentioned in your last letter. Don’t be angry about me having a job. I like getting out of the house and you know how much I enjoy reading.

Dad wanted you to know there’ll be a job for you at the mill once you’re out of the Army. He’ll make sure of that. You can be on the same crew as before.

Write me soon, okay?

Your wife,

Lesley

JILLIAN LAWTON

BARNARD COLLEGE

PLIMPTON HALL

NEW YORK, NY 10025

March 9, 1967

Dear Lesley,

It was great to hear from you. I loved the photograph of Davey with his one tooth. And I loved the picture of you holding him on your lap. You look radiant, like a classic Madonna with child. I’m so glad everything’s working out for you, and I’m glad Buck’s okay.

The news is full of Vietnam. I’m worried about what’s happening with our country. I don’t understand why we’re even there. My parents support the war. They say it’s important to wipe out Communism before it overtakes the world. I don’t know what I believe. I don’t want Communism to spread, either, but I’m not sure it’s worth this horrible war.

I’ve been so homesick all week and your letter went a long way toward cheering me up. I’ve been in the doldrums ever since Christmas vacation and the disagreement between Nick and my parents. Nick told me to stay out of it but it’s hard not to defend him. Speaking of Nick, did I mention he’s in trade school? Plus, he works long hours at his dad’s service station. Because he’s so busy, he can only write three times a week. I miss him so much. It kills me the way Mom and Dad act toward him.

When I asked to come home for spring break, they said no, that I’d be home soon enough. Can you believe it? They seem to think that if they keep Nick and me apart I’ll forget about him. Since I can’t fly home, I’ve decided to attend a protest rally and peace march in the city. Janice, my roommate, asked me to go with her. We’re making a banner that says MAKE LOVE, NOT WAR. Pete Seeger’s going to be there and Martin Luther King, Jr. and Benjamin Spock, the famous pediatrician. The crowd should be huge. Everyone’s already talking about it and the rally isn’t even happening until next month. I can’t go home, so why shouldn’t I attend a peace march?

Did I tell you in my last letter how Mom and Dad tried to fix me up with a friend of theirs? He’s over thirty! He phoned and invited me to dinner. Montgomery Gordon—even his name is boring. I don’t need to meet him to know he’s a stuffed shirt. I’m not actually sure why he’s in town. He told me but I’ve forgotten. I guess that tells you what I thought of him. Needless to say, I declined the invitation.

On another subject, I think it’s great that you’re working at the library part-time. Remember how we used to stay up all night to read books out loud to each other? I miss those times.

I’m lonely and miserable and I hate everything about New York. I never wanted to attend Barnard College. It was Dad’s idea. I’m nineteen and legally an adult, but my parents continue to control my life. Why can’t they accept that I’m my own person?

It isn’t only being stuck here during spring break, it’s Nick, too. I want to be with him, but the minute I mention his name my parents get all uptight. Dad constantly reminds me that Nick has a police record. Then I remind him that everyone deserves a second chance.

You’d think that after spending nineteen years raising me, they’d have some faith in my judgement. Oh well, crying on your shoulder doesn’t change anything, but it does help. You were always the one friend I could talk to, no matter what.

I’m so happy you’re finally going to see Hawaii. I know you and Buck will love it. You both need a little R & R. I knew you’d get to the islands sooner or later! Waikiki can be wildly romantic. How I envy you spending a whole week with the one you love.

Although it seems like forever, I’ll be home in June. We’ll spend lots of time together then, I promise.

Love,

Jillian

A Message from Southeast Asia

March 28, 1967

Dear Lesley,

Baby, I’m crazy to see you again. Everything’s been arranged. When you arrive in Hawaii, take the shuttle bus from the airport to the hotel. I’ll land the next morning, but the way things happen around here, it wouldn’t surprise me if I didn’t make it to the hotel until late afternoon. Be waiting for me! I’ve got six months of loving to make up for, so if you’re thinking about wasting time sunbathing on the beaches, you can forget that.

Give Davey a hug and kiss from his old man.

Love,

Buck

Lesley’s Diary

April 10, 1967

I can’t believe I’m really here in Hawaii! It’s just like Jillian described it, with the tall palm trees, pearly sand and lush orchids. I can hear the sounds of the ocean from my room, which has a balcony that faces—well, sort of faces—the beach. Normally we’d be staying in a military hotel, but with so many servicemen coming to the islands from Vietnam, Buck was booked into a civilian hotel. This is going to work out just great.

My plane landed at four and I took the shuttle, just the way Buck said in his letter. Unfortunately he didn’t tell me what to do about dinner. The room service menu is much too expensive. It’ll be a cold day in hell before I pay $1.00 for a cup of coffee! Mom and Dad repeatedly warned me against going out at night by myself, so I don’t feel comfortable leaving the hotel. I stayed in my room and went without dinner.

I miss Davey so much. This is the first time we’ve been separated for more than a few hours. I feel like I left part of myself in Pine Ridge. I want to call home and tell everyone I’m here, but Buck told me not to use the phone. He said it costs an arm and a leg to make long-distance calls from a hotel room.

I stood out on the balcony in the dark and sang torch songs at the top of my lungs. No one could hear me, not with the surf pounding against the sand below. I’m so anxious to see Buck again. It’s been nearly eight months since we were together. He doesn’t write often, but I understand how difficult it must be when he’s so far from home and everything.

I’m hungry, but sleepy too. Since I skipped dinner, I’ll have a little extra money to buy Mom something special for watching Davey. She’s a wonderful grandma. I’ll write more later.

Barbara Lawton

2330 Country Club Lane

Pine Ridge, Washington 98005

April 11, 1967

Dear Jillian,

It was good to talk to you this afternoon, and I’m sorry the conversation took such an unpleasant turn. I don’t know what it is with you and your father lately. You two clash at every opportunity, but I suspect it’s because you’re so much alike. You might resemble me in looks, Jillian, but I fear you were cursed with your father’s stubbornness. Sometimes I swear I don’t know what I’m going to do with the two of you.

I know how unhappy you are and that you want to transfer to the University of Washington next autumn, but your father is adamant you continue your studies at Barnard. Although you didn’t actually say it, I’m wondering how much this desire to change schools has to do with that boyfriend of yours. You know how Dad and I feel about Nick Murphy. Jillian, the boy has no future. His father is a grease monkey and from all appearances, that’s Nick’s future, too.