Letters from Becca: A Contemporary Romance Fiction Novel (6 page)

John called the local Greyhound station and asked about departures to San Antonio from Dallas.  There was a bus departing in three hours.  So he spent the next fifteen minutes packing a bag with three days of clothing, then the next hour and a half digging through his closet and cabinets and dressers for a shoebox.  When he found it, he set it in his overnight bag, then dialed his neighbor who always looked in on Patches and watered his plants whenever he was away.  He told her where to find the key, made sure his house was secure, and drove to the bus station.

John wasn’t thrilled about the fact he couldn’t drive that far on his own anymore.  His eyes weren’t what they used to be; his peripheral vision worse than ever.  Otherwise, he would already be on the road headed to his friend.  He hated getting older.  He had been through three tours in Vietnam, and never felt as bad then as he did now.  His knees were shot and he had arthritis in his hip—the one they
hadn’t
replaced.  He’d had his gall bladder removed, his appendix removed, and part of his pinky finger blown off.

He looked around the bus station.  It smelled—for lack of a better word—musty.  There was every size and age, race, denomination, and background of people imaginable waiting there to board.  A teenager with torn jeans and something in his ears that made his lobes look like he’d been initiated into an African tribe lounged on the bench to his right.  A Hispanic family with four children chattered away in Spanish by the cashier, while another family next to them spoke a language he’d never heard before. 

A dark-skinned man and his young son, both wearing matching Dallas Cowboy jerseys with the number 22 on them, were talking excitedly about football.  A woman and a man in business suits carrying briefcases talked on their cell phones, while a couple of teenagers were kissing—bordering on petting—by a wall.  A young corporal in fatigues played with his camouflage hat, twisting and turning it in his hands.  There were dozens of others, waiting for buses to their ultimate destinations.  He held his bag tighter in his lap.

He looked at the people and wondered whether they were traveling to somewhere or running away.  How many of them had seen war?  How many of them had suffered abuse?  Either at the hands of someone they loved, or even a complete stranger?  How many of them were on their way to see their families or friends?  Would they be able to hold a loved one just one more time?  Would they be able to say “I love you”?  Or would they be too late?

John opened his bag and took out the shoebox.  He slowly slid off the lid, a small tremor in his hand causing it to shake.  He shuffled through the letters, all in dated order, and pulled one out.  Slowly he took it from the envelope and unfolded it.

Dear John,

Still here.  Still waiting on the letter you promised to send six months ago when we last saw you.  Still not pregnant.  It’s heartbreaking because we both want kids so badly.  David reminds me it’s all in God’s timing.  I just wish He would hurry up!  I told him if we have more than one son, I wanted to name him Johnny Dale, after you and his dad.  He said that’s fine as long as the kid doesn’t grow up to look like you!  Marissa writes me and tells me she sees you when she’s in town.  She’s really crazy about you, you know?  Maybe when we are back in Texas we can all get together again.  It’s always too long between our visits.  I miss our talks.  I miss seeing you.  I miss you hugging me and telling me everything will work out and that everything is going to be okay.  I miss you…Always Yours, Becca xxo

John refolded the letter and placed it back into the box.  He picked up a stack of pictures, placing them one behind the other as he looked through them.  He found a few that gave him pause.  There were assorted pictures of the four of them standing in front of his old coupe with the forests of Canyon Lake as the background.  He smiled, then closed his eyes.  For a moment he could smell the cedar trees around him and the clean lake air.  He could hear the waves softly lapping at the shoreline and the frogs singing to each other.

John wasn’t thrilled about the idea of girls on a camping trip, but David kept insisting it would be fun.  Of course, he was singing a different tune when they only came up with two tents, and Becca insisted that the guys bunk together.  To add insult to injury, Becca had insisted that he and John use the smaller tent and that she and Marissa use the larger one.  She hinted at a few sexual incentives, so he reluctantly acquiesced.

Although David and Becca had been married just over four years now, John and Marissa had only recently started dating.  So this was stepping way outside his comfort zone.  Oh, they had been on many double dates together, but this was different.  Becca insisted there were no presumptions, though he had a few.  Therefore, the girls would bunk together.

He really liked Marissa.  In fact, emotions stirred that he’d never experienced before.  It was different than the feelings he had for Becca, somehow.  He tried to put out of his mind that David and Becca were having sex, probably on a regular basis, since they were still technically newlyweds.  He knew his friend too well.  Just because David couldn’t sleep in the same tent with her wasn’t going to stop him.  And John couldn’t bear the thought of being privy to that.

It wasn’t that he was still in love with her.  Or was it?  John shook his head as he picked up firewood.  When David and Becca had moved away so David could complete his officer training, it was a little easier.  When John started dating Marissa it was a lot easier.  Marissa was the first person since Becca who could make him laugh.  Heck, she could make him smile, and he hadn’t remembered smiling about anything in a really long time.  Of course, she had been writing him while he was still in the Army Air Corps, though not on any deployment.  They were sweet, simple letters. 
“Hope you are safe,” “I’m praying for you.”
  They had been inseparable since he’d been back.  Hers was the first familiar face he saw when he arrived back in Texas.

Then there were Becca’s letters. 
“I love and miss you,” “Come home to me,” “It’s not the same here without you.”
  And then there had been the letter he never imagined he would receive
—“Oh, and by the way, I’m now dating your best friend.”
That had been a kick in the teeth.  At first he was angry.  At Becca.  At David.  At himself.  Then it felt like he was angry with everyone.  But what could he do about it?  He was in another state.  He knew guys that had gotten a Dear John letter; he just never expected he’d be one of those guys.  What could he do about it from a thousand miles away?  She wanted him to be happy for her.  She hoped he’d understand.  Then she reminded him how broken she’d been when he had left her.  Damn his pride!

Serving a tour in Vietnam had been tough on David, but he had survived it physically unscathed.  He was one of the lucky ones.  Countless others hadn’t made it back.  None of them had anticipated that the escalating war would require America’s involvement, but when called up, David was ready to serve.  While so many—men like David—were fighting and dying valiantly, John was still waiting for his unit to be called up.  Now that helicopters were being outfitted to evacuate the injured, he could help save lives.  Unlike David, he wasn’t looking forward to going to war.  He knew the risk.  He and his crew would assure that the casualty rate in the field was much lower because they could get the injured to a field hospital faster.  Provided they didn’t get shot down first.

By the time they all saw each other again, Becca and David were engaged and had set a date.  David asked John to be his best man, probably at Becca’s insistence, and he agreed.  They were his best friends.  What else was he going to say?  David seemed different after he came back from his first tour.  He seemed harder.  He didn’t smile as much, and that had to have been hard on Becca.  She was always the bubbly cheerleader, on and off the field.  David didn’t talk about his time overseas, but John had heard through other guys who had done a tour that some of the battles were fought in close combat.  You can’t walk away from that and not be changed.  They had to leave fallen Marines behind, and that was tough for morale, not to mention the psyches of the men who left their buddies in the mud.

John and David returned to camp from gathering wood for the campfire to find wildflowers in the center of their makeshift picnic table and in the girls’ tent.  Becca and Marissa had everything perfectly and conveniently placed inside their tent, while the guys had literally chunked their duffels into the opening of their tent and set to work.  They were only going to be there three days, and yet, David told him Becca had packed enough to change three times a day for four days.  She didn’t want to have to leave the
comfort
of the tent—though she wouldn’t necessarily call it that—for any reason.  The girls were in for a rude awakening when they realized that the bathroom was whatever bush they could squat behind in the woods.  The guys were in for a surprise when they discovered their beds had been short-sheeted.

They ate sandwiches and potato salad and pickle slices, and sodas and cookies that were a little brown around the edges for dinner.  John lit the campfire they had laid on the beach while David went back to the coupe.  John had given David and Becca his car for a wedding present.  It was all John owned, but he hadn’t driven it since enlisting.  David’s car was forever breaking down, including on their wedding night, and since it was still parked in David’s garage, it just made sense to him.  David grabbed extra blankets that Becca had packed to lay out on the beach, a few towels, a bottle of Johnny Walker, his new transistor radio, and a bucket of 7 Ups and Coca-Colas.  He could hardly see to walk.

“You, sly dog,” John said, grabbing the whiskey from the bucket as David walked by.

Becca grabbed four cups from their campsite while Marissa took the blankets from David and spread them out on the ground.  The girls then plopped themselves down on one of the blankets, lying on their stomachs, whispering and giggling.

John looked down at them and shook his head.  They were all in their twenties and yet, the girls were acting like silly teenagers.  Marissa looked up at him and giggled again, then looked away like she was embarrassed.

David walked up to him, retrieving two cups from the blanket as he walked by.  He tapped the cups on the bottle and John obliged.  They turned when they heard the girls snickering again.  “Women,” David said, exasperated.  They sat on a fallen dead tree close to the water’s edge.  David turned on the transistor radio and moved the knobs until he had a relatively clear signal.  Duane Eddy was picking out
Rebel-Rouser.

John drank straight from the bottle, and then gasped.  “You invited them, remember,” he said, taking another sip.  “This was supposed to be a guy getaway.”

David rolled his eyes.  “Yeah, well, blame her for that,” he said nodding toward his wife.

John scoffed.  “Really?  It’s her fault?”

“You know how she is.  You try telling her she can’t do something.”

John laughed as a pair of arms wrapped around his neck.

“You talking about me?” Becca asked over his shoulders.

John hugged her soft, pale arms.  “Yes, as a matter of fact I was,” he grinned, then turned, still holding them.  “I told David that this was supposed to be a guy’s weekend.”

Becca pulled free and gave him a little shove, then walked up to David and ran her finger under his chin.  “But, if it
was
just a guy’s weekend, it wouldn’t be as much fun,” she said with a tilt of her head as she unbuttoned her shirt.  She walked slowly backward as she continued to unbutton her shirt to reveal her bathing suit top.  She shimmied as she took her shirt off and then tossed it to David.

“Be right back,” David said, handing his cup to John as he chased his wife toward the beach.

Becca screamed and laughed as he tackled her into the water.

John watched them for a moment.  Marissa walked up beside him.  The cool evening air blew back her dark, wavy hair.  She wasn’t wearing her glasses, and somehow she looked more… grown up.  She turned to him and smiled.  Her smile was infectious.  He reached over and took her hand, pulling her to his side.  “You want to go in?”

“Swimming?” she asked.

John nodded, putting the cap back on the whiskey and setting it beside him.

“Um…” she stammered.

“What’s wrong?”

She shyly shook her head.

John turned and took both her hands, tilting his head slightly, looking her in the eyes, though she continued to look down, embarrassed.

“I’m afraid of the water,” she said softly.

“All water, or just lakes?”

Marissa shrugged.  “Lakes, mostly.”

John tilted her head back with his finger.

“It’s stupid, really,” she added meekly.  “I just am afraid of not being able to see the bottom.  And if I touch the bottom I’m afraid of stepping on something…” she began.  “Icky.”

John smiled.

Marissa looked up and a smile crept up the side of her lips.  “I told you it was stupid.”

“It’s not stupid,” he said.  He stood, pulling her up beside him, and then suddenly lifted her into his arms.

“What are you doing?” she laughed.

John began carrying her toward the water.

Marissa held on tighter and started kicking her feet.  “John, no!” she squealed through laughter.

John ignored her, carrying her into the water, turning and falling backward into it, taking them both under.  When he came back up, she was still cradled in his arms, clinging to his neck.  He looked into her eyes and suddenly he kissed her.  He opened his eyes, his nose to hers as she held his face in her free hand.

“That was nice,” she whispered.

John kissed her again, slowly turning her in the water, spinning her as they laughed.  He kissed her again.

“Knock it off, you two,” Becca said, leading David from the water and landing on the first blanket.

John kissed Marissa again, carried her from the water and laid her on the other blanket.  He dropped beside her and shook his hair, spraying water all over her.

David tossed them towels as he retrieved the whiskey.  He pulled off the cap, gulped two gulps, and handed it to John as he passed by.

“What do you want to do now?” Becca asked, as David dropped beside her.  He rolled halfway onto her and kissed her passionately.  Becca giggled and pushed him off.

“What?” he said innocently.  “You asked.”

“No,” she clarified.  “I was asking everyone.”

John took a sip from the bottle and wiped his mouth with the back of his hand.  He leaned over and handed it back to David, who poured some in a cup before handing the bottle back to John.  Becca reached into the bucket, retrieved a 7 Up, and popped the top.  She poured half into one cup, half into another, and handed one to Marissa.  John held the bottle up and with a nod of his head offered it to Marissa.  He had never seen her drink, and he wasn’t about to make her.  She held up her cup, and he poured just a little bit into it.  She reached up and tilted the bottle so that a little more spilled into her cup.  Then he leaned across her to pour some into Becca’s cup before handing off the bottle to David again.  He watched as Marissa sipped it carefully at first, unsure.  She sipped a little more and smiled.

“Not so bad,” she said.

“Let me see.”  John leaned in to kiss her again.  He licked his lips and smiled.  “No, you’re right, tastes good,” he added, before holding her head firmly and kissing her again.

“Okay, guys!”  Becca reprimanded.

John drew in a deep breath, his forehead to Marissa’s.  A small smile crept onto his lips.  “Truth or dare.”

Becca raised her eyebrows.  “No,” she said emphatically, knowing instantly it could have a disastrous end.

“Truth or dare,” David agreed.

Becca turned to Marissa, who shrugged.

“To be fair, you can go first,” John said, turning to Becca.

David poured a full cup of whiskey before handing the bottle back to John.  John raised the bottle in a mock toast to David’s raised cup, and they both took a long pull from their respective beverages.

Becca sat up straight.  “Okay.  Hmm,” she said as she contemplated.

“John, truth or dare?”

John rolled onto his back.  Of course she would pick on him.  “Truth,” he said to the darkening sky.

“What’s the longest time you’ve gone without a shower?”

“That’s the best you could come up with?” He rolled back onto his side, leaning on his elbow.  “A week.  At scout camp.  Your turn.  Truth or dare?”

Becca contemplated a beat.  “Truth.”

“What do you wear to bed?”

Becca looked at David who smiled slyly.  “Depends,” she smiled mischievously as she turned back to John.

John batted his eyes.  “
Usually
,” he reiterated.

“Silky nightgown,” she responded.  “Marissa,” she said, turning to her best friend.  “Truth or dare?”

“Truth,” she said.

“Okay.  Hmm.  What’s your most embarrassing physical flaw?”

Marissa looked down, her finger toying with a loose thread on the blanket.  “Well,” she began softly, “I have a strawberry birthmark and it’s in a kind of embarrassing place.”