Finding Libbie (23 page)

Libbie grabbed Jack’s hands and stared up into his eyes. “Please, Jack? It’s so nice, and we’ll have our own home. Please say yes.”

Jack wavered a moment. Libbie’s happiness was all he wanted, but he was worried about more than just the monthly payments. Now there’d be an electric bill, a heating bill, and the cost of furniture for a place this big. He wasn’t sure he earned enough to cover it all. Jack glanced around him again, and his eyes settled on Abigail’s.

“You do want our Libbie to be happy, don’t you?” Abigail said, glaring at him.

Jack stared at Abigail. She’d been the one to upset Libbie at every turn, yet she had the nerve to put him on the spot. But denying Libbie the chance to live in this lovely home wasn’t an option, either. He didn’t feel as if he had a choice.

“Sure, sweetie. Of course we can live here,” Jack said.

Libbie squealed and hugged Jack, kissing his cheek. “We’re going to be so happy here. I can’t wait to move in.” She ran around hugging her father and mother again, bringing smiles to their faces, then grabbed her mother’s hand and pulled her toward the kitchen. “Let’s see everything again,” she said cheerfully.

Abigail smiled indulgently and followed her daughter.

Randall walked over to Jack and slapped him on the back. “I knew you wouldn’t let our Libbie down,” he said.

That was exactly what Jack was afraid he’d do if he couldn’t afford to keep this house.

They moved into their new house immediately, and Libbie asked Jack if she could use the money they’d been saving to buy furniture. He didn’t really have a choice—they had to have furniture—but he asked her to be careful because he worried he would need some extra money for bills. He had to admit, though, she was careful spending the money and did get everything for cost from her parents’ furniture store. But their savings dwindled regardless and Jack began to panic. He had an oil tank to fill up for their furnace before winter and other bills to pay. He knew his income wasn’t going to cover everything, and he’d have to find a way to earn extra money on the side. But he didn’t complain to Libbie. She was happier than she’d been since she’d overdosed, and he didn’t want to burst her bubble. He’d find a way to make things work out.

CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE

Libbie adored her new home. She also loved every piece of her new furniture, from the oval, smoked glass dining room table to the brown suede sofa and tan swivel recliner. She’d paid Sandra, who was an excellent seamstress, to make a gold tufted pillow for the bay window seat, and Spence lay there daily, soaking up the sun. Libbie hung spider plants, Boston ferns, and ivy in the sunniest windows, and had colorful throw pillows set all around. Every room looked warm and cozy, and she felt so safe and secure in their new home.

They had a large backyard with a cement patio, where she’d placed a table and chairs, and a barbeque grill, too. It wasn’t long before the neighbors came over to introduce themselves, and Libbie was thrilled to make new friends. Many of the women were a few years older than she, and they already had two or three children, but they eagerly welcomed Libbie into the neighborhood. Most were full-time mothers, although a couple did have part-time jobs, so there was always someone home to visit with during the week. And on weekends there was always a neighborhood gathering where everyone was invited over for burgers on the grill. For the first time since graduating high school, Libbie had friends she could spend time with and she loved it.

For the rest of the summer, Libbie put all her energy into turning the house into a home, and she cleaned constantly, making sure everything was always perfect. She wanted Jack to know she appreciated his letting her buy so many nice things for the house, so she treated everything like she would a newborn infant—with tender loving care. She was so happy living in their new house and neighborhood that she stopped taking the Valium because she didn’t need it to fall asleep at night. She no longer worried or stressed over everything. She felt like her old self again.

And when August slipped into September, Libbie’s biggest fear evaporated. Jack’s time for the draft was up. There was no chance of him leaving her to go to Vietnam. It was such a heavy weight off her. She felt like she could finally relax and enjoy their future together, now that she knew they had one.

As time went on and Libbie no longer felt stressed or depressed, she decided she didn’t need to take the antidepressant anymore. She hated how dull it made her feel, so when she ran out, she didn’t refill it. She was content with her life with Jack in this wonderful home and neighborhood—she didn’t need pills anymore.

Jack noticed the change in Libbie immediately. She was excited and energetic again, and that made him very happy. She kept the house spotless, cooked and baked, and spent time with the other women in the neighborhood. He knew how good it was for her to have friends, and he was glad he’d made the decision to live here after all—at least for Libbie’s sake.

For Jack, though, it took a little getting used to. He’d never lived in a brand-new home with all new furnishings, and he was afraid every time he walked through the door that he might ruin the carpet or a piece of furniture. The glass dining room table scared him to death. What if he dropped a plate on it and cracked the table? Libbie laughed at him for being so fearful and told him to relax and enjoy the place. “There’s nothing here that can’t be fixed or cleaned,” she’d told him with a warm smile. He knew it was true, but it made him uncomfortable just the same.

As summer changed into fall and their savings dwindled, Jack worried how he’d pay the bills. Everything except for heat was electric in the house, so their bill was quite high, especially with the hot water heater and the new clothes dryer running so often. He filled the oil tank so they would be ready to heat the house when winter arrived, and that cost a large chunk of money. Worse yet, the oil deliveryman told Jack that he would probably have to fill it monthly. Jack wasn’t sure if he could save enough money every month to do that.

Jack worried a lot now.

But the fact that Libbie was feeling better made it all worth it to Jack.

That fall, changes were taking place in Jack’s family as well. Jack’s sister, Jan, had graduated high school in the spring and headed off to college at the University of Minnesota in Minneapolis. She hadn’t wanted to stay in Jamison for college; she’d wanted to move to the city and have new experiences. She’d received a grant to cover her college expenses and Jack’s parents said they’d help her with living expenses, but she’d also have to find a part-time job. Jan said she didn’t mind. She was ready to fly the coop. So, in late August, they’d all had a party at the farm and said good-bye to her. It had been a month since she’d left, and Bev told Jack that Jan was loving it down there. She’d found a waitress job close to campus and had already made new friends. Jack found it hard to believe that his little sister was living on her own—he still thought of her as being ten years old—but he was proud of her.

Larry had written saying he’d survived boot camp and would be transferring to another unit to await his orders for shipping out. It was all becoming very real—Larry was going to Vietnam. A small part of Jack felt guilty that he was not with his friend, but he also knew his place was here with Libbie. He hoped that Larry would be okay.

Over the summer, Jack and Libbie had become close with two other couples in the neighborhood, June and Adam, and Steve and Natalie. Both were young couples, but they already had small children, and sometimes the six of them would get together and play cards on a Tuesday night or have dinner together on a Saturday night. Jack knew how much Libbie enjoyed get-togethers with their neighborhood friends, so even when he was bone-tired he never complained. As winter drew closer and the cooler temps made outdoor barbeques impossible, the dinners moved indoors. Sometimes, Jack worried about Libbie when they all got together. It wasn’t unusual for beer and wine to be passed around, and often one neighbor or another would drink too much. He hoped Libbie wouldn’t feel pressured to drink. He knew she wasn’t supposed to drink while she was on her medication. She always seemed fine, though, and he’d see her politely decline when offered a glass of wine or a beer. They’d been so happy since moving to the new house that he didn’t want anything to change that.

In late October, Jack told Libbie he’d be working at his uncle’s gas station on Saturdays to help supplement their income.

“But that’s the night we get together with our friends,” Libbie said, looking disappointed.

“I’ll only work until five,” Jack told her. “He needs the help, and we need the extra income. I’m hoping I can take on a few repair jobs as well on Saturdays while I’m there. I may even do some on weeknights. I’ve had a lot of people ask me if I’d work on their cars on the side. It would help us with the bills.”

Libbie was sitting on the bed watching as Jack undressed. “Are we really doing so poorly that you’ll have to work more?” she asked.

Jack sat down beside her. “Things are just a little tight right now,” he said, not wanting her to worry. “Our bills are higher in the winter because of running the heat, so we could use the extra money.”

“But none of the other husbands around here work after hours.”

“They’re probably more established in their jobs and are making more money than I am, Libs. Plus, most of the guys who live here are older than me, so they’ve been working longer.” When he saw the unhappiness in her eyes, Jack took her hands in his. “It’s going to be fine, Libs. I want you to be happy. I don’t mind working a little more so we can live in this nice home.”

“But I won’t be happy if you’re gone all the time. I like it when you’re home.”

Jack grinned. “Well, I’m glad you like having me home.” He ran a finger down her back, making her jump and giggle from the chill it gave her. “I’m home now. Do you want to show me how much you like having me here?”

Libbie laughed and Jack captured her lips with his. They fell back onto the bed as Jack showed Libbie just how much he loved being with her, too.

With the onset of the holiday season, Libbie went into a decorating frenzy. She started right before Thanksgiving, and the decorating continued into December. Their house twinkled and glistened in every corner, and she also baked dozens of holiday cookies and shared them around the neighborhood. She wanted this Christmas to be extra special in their new home. She borrowed decorations from her parents and asked Jack to string lights around the outside of the house and around the tall pine that grew in the front yard. Jack did, and everyone else in the neighborhood jumped in and decorated their houses as well. It soon became obvious that Libbie’s decorating spree had started a competition for the best-lit house.

They had spent Thanksgiving at the farm because Abigail wasn’t feeling well enough to host a dinner. Libbie thought it was just as well. She was sorry her mom didn’t feel well, but she enjoyed the farm much more than her parents’ home. Jan came home for the long weekend and everyone had a good time.

The Saturday before Christmas, Libbie had invited their two favorite couples over for dinner, and then the rest of the neighborhood was invited over for dessert and drinks. It was a bring-your-own-booze type of affair, so it wouldn’t be too expensive. She’d also invited Carol and her new boyfriend over for dinner, too, and couldn’t wait to show off her house and hostess skills to her old friend.

As Jack readied for work that Saturday morning, he pulled Libbie into his arms. “I know you’re excited about tonight,” he said. “I am, too. I’m a little worried, though. You’ve been working so hard, I’m afraid you might get sick.”

Libbie frowned.
Sick?
“I feel fine,” she said defensively.

He kissed her on the tip of her nose. “I know. I just worry about you. You’ve been pushing yourself so hard over the past few weeks to make everything perfect—and it is. I want you to enjoy the holidays, too.”

“I am. I love doing all of this,” she said. “Just make sure you’re not late coming home. I want tonight to be perfect.”

Jack promised he’d leave work early so he could shower and dress before their guests arrived. Once he left, Libbie went straight to work.

With boundless energy, she cooked and cleaned, and when everything didn’t look perfect to her, she cleaned some more. Twice she mopped the kitchen floor, and when she saw a crumb in the refrigerator, she cleaned it top to bottom. She wanted everyone to think she was the perfect wife and hostess. Nothing could be out of place.

She was serving roasted duck with orange-ginger glaze, wild rice, and asparagus tips. She’d also baked several pies the day before—apple, pumpkin, pecan, and lemon meringue—to serve when all the neighbors came over later.

By the time she put the duck into the oven to roast, she was tired, but she thought it was a happy tired. Still, Jack’s words came back to her.
You’ve been working so hard, I’m afraid you might get sick.
She’d resented the implication of his words. He wasn’t worried she’d get sick; he was worried the added stress would make her start drinking again.

“Well, I’m just fine,” she said aloud. “I’ve been fine for months.”

She went to her room to shower and dress for the evening. Once her makeup and hair were done, she put on her new dress. It was tea length, made of sapphire-blue satin, and had a form-fitting bodice that fell into a full skirt from the waist. Libbie had also bought new matching satin pumps to wear with it. Her mother had an open account for her at the local dress shop, and although she rarely used it, she had for tonight. She wanted to look beautiful for Jack, and for him to be proud of her. As she twirled in front of the full-length mirror, she felt like a princess.

Half an hour before the guests were to arrive, Libbie went back into the kitchen and slipped a full-length lacy apron on over her dress. The duck smelled heavenly. She had the asparagus ready to roast. She pulled the duck out of the oven and slipped in the asparagus, then lifted the lid to check the duck. To her dismay, it looked a bit overcooked. Biting her lip, she rationalized that once the oranges and glaze were on it, the duck would be fine. She carefully transferred the duck onto a serving platter, covered it, and began making the glaze.