We’re about half way through, and we just got our Marine pictures taken in full dress blues. I felt a little like crying. It’s funny, I haven’t had the urge to cry one time, not when I’ve been sore and tired and screamed at - but putting that uniform on made me get a big lump in my throat. Unbelievable. For the first time I feel like I truly belong somewhere.

You know I’m going to have to give in and read Jane Eyre one of these days. But I can’t read it during boot camp, so please don’t send it to me. I would never live it down; can you imagine my D.I. during mail call ripping open my package and pulling out Jane Eyre? I’d be on the quarterdeck for a year.

I think I’m having Beethoven withdrawals. What have you done to me? Keep working on the telepathic thing.

Don’t change,

Samuel

I immediately rushed to my little desk and wrote him back.

Dear Samuel,

I listened to some John Phillip Sousa today and imagined you marching in your dress blues. Will you send me a picture when you graduate? I can’t wait to see you all serious in front of the flag. You do serious pretty well, so I don’t think you will look too different to me.

It doesn’t surprise me you are doing so well. I love the stories about your grandma. Someday I’d really like to meet her.

I feel like I am standing still why you are running forward. I feel a little anxious and antsy, maybe even jealous that you are living your dream. I guess I’ll have my chance someday.

I went and helped your Grandma Nettie in her garden today. She talked about you a little. She said you sent her a letter. She told me a lot of the things I already knew, but of course I didn’t tell her so. She’s very proud of you. She’s looking forward to your Marine picture too. She showed me where she’s going to hang it. She’s picked out a spot next to a picture of Don in his Army uniform. She said he was in the National Guard, I’m sure you know which picture I’m talking about. I saw another picture in her hallway I hadn’t noticed before. I’ve been in the house many times, but usually just in the kitchen or the sitting room. It was a picture of you with your mom and dad when you were about four years old. I know pictures can be misleading, but you all looked happy. You look like both of them - don’t you think? Your dad was such a handsome man and your mom is so lovely.

Life can be kind of cruel. Sometimes I think of my mom, your dad, people we love that have left us. I wish I understood God’s plan a little better. My mom’s death has definitely made me more capable and independent, and probably made me a stronger, better person. I just miss her sometimes. I miss you too.

Love,

Josie

I didn’t receive another letter until Samuel graduated from boot camp and I was getting ready to start eighth grade. He sounded so different already, so grown up and focused. He seemed so far away. I mourned the loss of the boy who had been my friend, even though the man he was becoming was impressive to me.

The best part of the letter was the little wallet sized picture he had included. My breath caught in my chest and my heart ached and sang simultaneously. He looked so handsome. His hair was gone, and his strong jaw and cheekbones were prominent in his lean brown face. His ears lay flat against his head, no pixie ears for Samuel. His dark eyes were solemn and staring just below the slim black brim of his white cap. His wide mouth was firm and unsmiling. His deep blue uniform was resplendent, with gold buttons marching down his chest. The flag stood behind him, and there was a look on his face that said ‘Don’t mess with me.’ It made me giggle a little. The giggle caught on a sob, and I threw myself down on my bed and cried until my head ached and I was sick to my stomach.

In the following months, the letters came fewer and farther between. I wrote as faithfully as his location allowed. Then the letters stopped altogether. I didn’t see Samuel again for two and a half years.

11. Intermezzo

December 1999

Nettie Yates brought over a plate of Christmas cookies and candies two days before Christmas. We’d gotten very little snowfall so far, but the temperatures were frigid. I welcomed Nettie into the house with a whoosh of cold air and forced the door closed behind her as I ooohed and aaahed over her offering.

“Come in to the kitchen with me, Nettie. I have something for you, too.” She followed behind me into the kitchen where I had loaves of chocolate chip zucchini bread wrapped in tinfoil and tied with cheerful red bows. I had at least twenty loaves spread across the countertop. Christmas can be especially stressful in small towns. You don’t always know where to start and stop in the exchanging of ‘neighbor’ gifts. Everyone is a neighbor, and people get easily offended. The same goes for weddings. You have to practically invite the whole town and have an open house. That way you don’t risk missing someone, starting a Hatfield and McCoy situation that could last for generations. People were generally more forgiving of me because I wasn’t an adult, but I wasn’t taking any chances.

“Zucchini bread? Is it my recipe?” Nettie smiled at me when I handed her a loaf.

“Yep, but I didn’t give you any credit on the Christmas cards.” I smiled back. Chocolate chip zucchini bread had become one of my favorites since I’d used it as an excuse to ply information out of Don and Nettie a few years before.

Nettie laughed good-naturedly and pulled out a chair next to the kitchen table where I had been tying the bows on the loaves of foil wrapped bread. She obviously wanted to visit a little, and I couldn’t blame her for not wanting to head back out into the frigid evening.