Letters from Becca: A Contemporary Romance Fiction Novel (22 page)

The elevator dinged, and John looked up.  Two nurses stepped off, without even looking at him and then walked together toward the nursing station on Becca’s floor.  John wiped his eyes, then took his glasses and the letter from his pocket.  He took his handkerchief from his back pocket, wiped his glasses, and then blew his nose on it before folding it and returning it to the same pocket.  Carefully, gently he opened the box and slowly took a letter from another envelope and unfolded it.

My Dearest John,

So, here we are once more.  After all these years, you came to my rescue, again, when I felt no hope.  You saved me from the desperation and loneliness that had slowly invaded every part of me since David died.  You held me, and you made me feel whole again. I woke up in your hotel room that next morning, alone and naked, still waiting for you.  And yet, I knew at that moment, it was the right choice for both of us—for your marriage, for your new family.  You could have told me, John.  You
should
have told me.  But in the end, you not coming back to me that night, made me strong enough to do what was right.  God finally gave me the strength to let you go.  Because as long as I couldn’t let you go, I couldn’t let David go.  I simply couldn’t move on.  And I needed to move on, John, as you had moved on.  

I pray for you and your family.  And I pray to God that the thought of us never comes between you as it never came between David and me.  But know, that no matter how much I loved David, before he and I were, WE were.  We were the best part of each other, John.  I’ve loved you since the beginning of time, John.  We were intimate in a way that goes beyond physical touch.  It was that special relationship that was our very survival through the years and a bond that no one can tear apart.  The years and the miles mean nothing because our hearts will always be one.  And nothing but death can separate us.  And even then I’ll love you till the end of time.  So, now it’s time to say goodnight John, because I can’t bear saying goodbye again.  I’ll love you always and forever because I’m Always Yours, Becca xxo

John took out his handkerchief again and blew his nose.  He refolded the letter before returning his glasses and handkerchief back into their respective pockets.  The elevator dinged again, and he looked up.  D.R. and Johnny got off the elevator with a third man.

D.R. stood beside the young man with salt and pepper hair.  “Uncle John, this is the hospital chaplain.”

“Bobby Lee, sir,” he said, shaking John’s hand.  “Nice to meet you.”  He turned to the boys.  “I’ll be back up to visit with your mother in the morning.  I always look forward to our time together.  She’s a hoot.”

D.R. smiled.  “That she is.”  He offered his hand again.  “Thanks for checking in on her.  And thank you for your prayers.  It’s hard for her not to be at church.  Your visits help.”

“My pleasure, son,” he said, shaking D.R.’s and Johnny’s hands.

As he walked away, Johnny walked into the room while D.R. waited outside with John.  “Have you been in to see her yet?”

John shook his head.  “They were just finishing giving her a bath and changing her bed.”

As if on cue, the nurse aid walked out with the dirty linens.  Johnny followed her out.

“She’s awake if you want to see her,” he said.  “I told her she had a visitor, but didn’t tell her who.”

D.R. patted John’s arm.  “You go in.  We’ll wait out here.  You deserve a little private time after all these years.”

John drew in a deep breath and wiped his palms on his jeans.  He smiled at both of the boys.  “Thank you,” he said.  “If you hear things being thrown, then you’ll know to come get me out, right?”

They both laughed.  “Right,” Johnny said.

John gave a little wave as he shuffled toward her room.  Slowly he pushed the large door open, turning to push it closed when he walked in.  He closed his eyes and leaned against the door with his head and his hands. 
“Please, God,”
he whispered.  He wasn’t even sure what to pray.  He wasn’t sure how to pray.  It had been so long.  He just knew he couldn’t do this alone.  He drew in a deep breath and turned.

As he rounded the corner, he saw her small frame under the blankets.  His heart raced faster with each step.  Well, if he had a heart attack, at least he was in the right place.  He continued around the corner, and then he saw her.  He would know her face anywhere.  Time had been good to her.  She looked thinner, but not gaunt.  She had a wrap around her head, but he could see a few wisps of hair from underneath.  He continued to shuffle around the bed, moving toward the chair at her bedside.  He accidentally bumped her dining table, and it squealed to a stop inches away.  She opened her eyes suddenly, disoriented.  “David?” she called out, then blinked and turned her head slightly.

“No, it’s me,” he said softly, as he walked closer to the bed until he was leaning over her.

Becca looked up at him, smiling faintly.  Her hand reached up and touched his cheek.  “I knew you’d come,” she said.  “I knew.”

He reached over and stroked her head gently.

“Took your time about it,” she growled.

“I don’t move as fast as I used to,” John quipped.

“Try being hooked up to these contraptions,” she said, holding up her arm.

“You’re a sight for sore eyes.”

“Still a horrible liar,” she replied.

“You used to think I was charming.  All the widows on the block think I’m charming.”

“You’ll always be that,” she smiled, motioning for her water.  He took it from the table and helped put the straw against her dry, cracked lips.  She closed her eyes as she drank, holding his hand to steady the straw.  When she was through, she pushed it away, and he placed it back on her tray table.

“Sorry I took so long.”

She adjusted herself in her bed until she was comfortable.  “You came.  That’s all that matters.”

John pulled the chair closer and then sat beside her.  “I’m here as long as you need me,” he said with a sad smile.

“Still trying to take care of me after all these years?”  A tear ran down the side of her face.

“Of course.  That’s my job, remember?” He watched her as she looked straight ahead at the wall.  “Besides, you’ve always been right here,” he said pointing at his chest.  “And right here,” he said pointing at his temple.  “And trust me, at my age, I’m lucky to keep either of them working to
minimum
capacity.”

Becca smiled through more tears as she turned back to him.  “And you’ve always been right here,” she said, pointing at her chest.  “And right here,” she added, pointing at her head.

Neither of them spoke for many moments.  Then John leaned in, tears in his eyes.  “I’m so sorry,” he said, almost in a whisper.

“Shh,” Becca said, putting her finger to his lips.  “It’s okay.  I’m sorry, too.  But none of that matters.  I know we both forgave each other years ago for what was said and for what wasn’t.”

“None of that matters,” he repeated, his hand against her cheek.  “What matters is you keeping your strength and getting better.”

“I’m not going to get better, John.”

“Don’t talk like that.  Of course you will.”

Becca waved her hand.  “I’m dying, John.  And I don’t have much time,” she said, tiring quickly.  “But I had to tell you...”

“I already know.  I’ve always known.  Don’t you see?  There’s nothing I didn’t already know.  No regrets.  We’re fine,” he said, taking a Kleenex from her tray and dabbing her cheeks.

“No, I wanted to see you.  I had to tell you I was sorry, and I had to tell you goodbye.”

“Ah, Becca,” he said with a tilt of his head.

“And I want you to say goodbye, and I want you to leave,” she said firmly.

“I’m not leaving you ever again,” he said.

“You have to,” she said, exasperated.  “I never wanted you to see me like this.  That’s why,” she began, sobbing and turned away.  “I didn’t want you to see...”

John stood, leaning over her.  “See what?” He patted her hand.  “See what, Becca?”  John didn’t move until he slowly turned her face with his hand.  “See what, Becca?” he smiled.  “I still see the most beautiful woman I’ve ever known.  I still see the most beautiful woman I’ve ever loved.”

“You should go, John.”

“That’s why you sent me the letter, right?” he asked.  “Tying up loose ends?  Unfinished business?” He stood up straight.  “How could you have thought for one moment that I wouldn’t come?”

“I’m tired, John,” she gasped, waving her hand again.

John took her hand before she could wave him off.

“I don’t want you to see me die,” she sobbed.

“No ma’am,” he said firmly.  “You’re not going to do this to me again.  You can’t send me away this time,” he said as he handed her the tissue box.  “I came here because I wanted to see you.  I
needed
to see you.  I stayed away all those years because it’s what
you
wanted.  I didn’t call you because
you
asked me not to.  I didn’t’ write because you told me you wouldn’t read them.  Then I found your letter.  What was I
supposed
to do?  What about what
I
wanted?”

John sat back down.  “I’m tired, too, Becca,” he exhaled.  “After all these years, you aren’t going to try and tell me if I still love you, I’ll leave you again.  It won’t work this time.  It’s because I still love you that I came.  And it’s because I love you that I’m staying.”

Becca put her hand closer to his on her bed.  “I’ve hurt you so badly, and you’ve always been so good to me.”

“Shh,” he said, taking her hand.  “We’ve hurt each other.  But that doesn’t matter anymore.  So get used to me being here, old woman, because I’m not going anywhere.”

Becca squeezed his hand with the little strength she had left.

“Unless you are physically able to remove me from this room, I’m here to stay.”

Becca smiled.  “How can you still love me after all these years?”

John smiled.  “Do you really have to ask?”

Becca shook her head slightly.

John leaned over and kissed her forehead again as she closed her eyes.  John moved the chair closer and helped her adjust her bed until she was leaning against him as he leaned on the pillow beside her and took her hand.

D.R., Johnny and the nurse came in to check on them.  Becca smiled weakly and assured them she was just fine.

“Quit fussing over me,” she said breathlessly.

D.R. leaned over her and kissed her forehead.  “I love you, Mama.”

With much effort, she lifted her hand and brushed his cheek.  “You look so much like your father,” she smiled.

D.R. kissed her again before letting Johnny say goodnight.

“Bye, Mama.  I’ll see you first thing in the morning, okay?” He put his forehead to hers.  “You behave yourself, alright?”

Becca brushed his hair back.  “No promises,” she grinned.  “I love you, son.”

“Love you too, Mama.”

“You are welcome to stay with us this evening,” D.R. offered, turning to John.

John shook his head.  “Your mother and I still have some catching up to do,” he smiled as he looked into her eyes.

D.R. looked down and saw they were holding hands.  His smile grew as he looked back up at John.  “Call if you want to stay,” he offered.  “You’re always welcome.”

“Thank you, son,” John replied.

“Willie’s driving up in the morning, mama.  He said he’d bring you that sausage biscuit you love, so eat light,” he grinned.

Becca nodded.

The boys slowly waved their goodnights as the nurse finished her duties.  Becca had her lower the head of her bed, before she left them alone again.

Becca turned her head on her pillow as John moved her over just inches, so that he could lay on the bed beside her, their faces just inches apart on the pillow.  She moved her hand to his face, caressing the gray stubble on his unshaven cheek.

“Look at this.  After all these years, you finally got me into your bed.”

Becca smiled.  “Yeah, well, don’t expect much,” she quipped.

“Same here,” he smiled, kissing her forehead.  “Still feels nice.”

Becca closed her eyes and smiled.  “Yes, it does.”

He continued to hold her hand.  She talked about her sons and her grandchildren until she was out of breath.  Then he told her about his daughters, and Amanda and his grandson, David.  He told her about his short-lived marriage; what worked, what didn’t.  Then he told her about his neighborhood and his home and he even told her about the Schultze sisters.

He moved to get up, but she gripped his hand with what little strength she had left.  “Don’t stop,” she said softly.  “Tell me everything,” she whispered.  “Tell me about us,” she said, closing her eyes.  “Tell me a perfect memory of us.”

John remembered as he closed his eyes and smiled.

Becca rode her bicycle to the river.  It was upstream from where her family farm had been and a little further than she was usually allowed to go, but John said he found a better place to swim and she was dying to try it.  That, and she wanted to see him again.  They wanted to see each other.  They were in different schools now and wouldn’t be in the same school again for another year, when she started high school.  But every week, one of them found their way to the other.

John and his father had moved to a small boarding house on the East side of Fredericksburg.  His father eked out a living in the orchards outside of town from May through August.  The same orchards Becca’s father used to work in.  They lived miles away from each other, and for the first few months they would ride their bikes to see each other after school every day.  But when her Uncle Jimmy found out, he had forbidden her to go.  He called John’s father scum of the earth and other names he would never repeat to the other deacons in his church.

So Becca lied.  She would tell them she was going to visit her friends Marissa or Theresa.  What she hadn’t known then was that her Aunt Betty and Theresa’s mother were in the same quilting social group.  Her aunt didn’t tell her uncle that she knew Becca had lied; she would simply keep her busy with chores and school work, mostly to keep John and Becca apart, and save her from her uncle’s belt for lying and breaking his rules.

But it was the first Saturday of summer, and her aunt and uncle had to attend the funeral of one of the founders of their church.  Becca faked a stomachache.  Her aunt considered not going, but she really wanted to take them her famous rum cake and visit with family and friends that she didn’t often get to see.  Becca stayed in bed until she saw the dust settle as they drove to San Antonio for the graveside service.  Then she rode as fast as possible to the bend in the river where she told John they’d meet.

She traveled on roads on which she knew no one she saw would recognize her, or if they did, they wouldn’t care why she was riding on their side of town.  She skidded her bike to a stop and jumped from it, running to the big tree at the crook of the creek.  John was fishing from a boulder that hung over the water.  She sneaked up as quietly as she could, then slipped her hands around his eyes.  John sat up straighter then tapped his finger on his chin, pretending to think who it could possibly be.  “Hmm.”

She took her hands away.

“Oh, it’s just you,” he teased.

Becca slapped his arm.

“Just kidding,” he said.

“You catching anything?”

“Not yet,” he replied.  “I’ve been here awhile,” he added, lifting his pole from the water.  “See, the worm’s already been eaten off.”

Becca gave him a shove, knocking him from his perch into the shallow water, then ran away, knowing he would chase her.  He did.  She pulled off her culottes as she ran.  At the water’s edge, she dropped the culottes onto the ground, revealing her new one-piece swimsuit before diving straight in.  John pulled off his T-shirt, tossing it over his shoulder as he dove.  He hit the water at the same time his shirt hit the ground.  Becca surfaced ten feet from the shore and then looked around.  She didn’t see John anywhere.  She treaded water, in a complete circle.  Then she screamed with a start when he grabbed her from beneath the water, pulling her under.  They surfaced together and she splashed him to keep him at bay.

John tossed his head to get the hair from his eyes and wiped his face.  “You think you’re so funny,” he said, dodging the water she was splashing.

“I know I’m funny,” she said, splashing him again.

John dove again, so she hurriedly swam toward the shore.  He caught her under the water and pulled her back under.  She kicked and freed herself, swam, then crawled onto the shore, laughing and gasping.  When he surfaced he was holding his nose.

“Gosh, Becca, you didn’t have to kick so hard.  I think you broke my nose.”

Becca looked up, wracked with guilt, and hurried back into the water.  John looked away from her as she drew nearer.  He turned when she was right beside him and he grabbed her, holding onto her tight.

“You!” she yelled, realizing he had baited her.  “You tricked me!” she laughed, trying to free herself.  He walked hurriedly toward deeper water, not letting her go, squeezing her harder.  “I give,” she gasped.

John loosened his grip, but didn’t let her go.  She twisted in his arms and wrapped hers around his neck, lifting her legs.  He obliged her by cradling her against his chest.  He walked through and out of the water.  “God, you got heavier!” he moaned, as she was no longer buoyant.

“Did not,” she said, narrowing her eyes.  She released him and stood, then rushed to the large rock overlooking the water and lay flat on it, allowing the warmth of the stone to help dry her.  She lay on her arms, looking over at him as he pulled his shirt back on without buttoning it.  He was only fourteen, but his body was lean and tan.  In just the past year, he had grown another foot.  His hair had grown darker.  Not to mention he suddenly had a little matting of hair on his chest and around his navel, plus under his arms.  She squinted as she watched him dress, marveling at how his newly-formed muscles rippled with every motion.

John had watched Becca as well.  She had been his best friend all his life, but suddenly he was looking at her differently.  He noticed things that he never paid attention to before.  He watched her as she lay on the rock, looking at him.  Their eyes met, and he suddenly felt a stirring he’d never known before.  He noticed the soft features of her face, the curve of her beautiful nose.  Her darkening ash blonde hair framed her face just perfectly as it fell, wet and matted, onto her shoulders.  His eyes slowly traced the curve of her back down to the tip of her toes.  She had become shapely, and suddenly desirable.  When he held her before, in the water, he had felt her developing bosom pressed against his chest.  It felt nice.  His eyes traveled back to hers.  They were still on him.  Then they slowly closed.

John contemplated for a moment, then easily jumped up on the rock and lay beside her, facing the back of her head.  He carefully, hesitantly reached across and stroked her hair, taking it into his fingers.  Slowly she turned her head and rested her other cheek on the warm rock.  She opened her eyes again.  They were only inches apart, staring at each other, silently.  His hand gently swept back her hair from her face, then delicately brushed her cheek.  He lifted onto his elbow as his hand continued to caress her skin.

“I miss you, Becca,” he said softly.

“Me, too,” she smiled.  “I wish it was like before, just you and me.”

“Yeah,” he said, rolling onto his back, staring into the sky.  “We’ll run away,” he announced.

“Tell me again,” she pleaded.  “Where will we go this time?”

He thought for a moment, then turned his head to face her.  “Canada,” he said.  “I read that if you move to Canada, they can’t come get you.  We could move there and live there.  You can dance in the ballet.  I’ll work on a farm.”

A small grin crossed her lips as she rolled onto her side and up onto her elbow as well.  “What if
I
want to work on the farm?”

John wriggled his nose and sniffed.  “Then I guess I’ll have to learn to dance,” he grinned.

Becca matched his grin.

John leaned toward her, his features softening as he watched her lips.  They were small and pink and perfect.  He closed his eyes and gently kissed her.  He had never kissed a girl before.  He had seen it in the picture show, and even remembered seeing some of the teenagers in town do it, so in his mind he tried to emulate their actions.  Her lips were soft and dry.  He slowly leaned back.  They both opened their eyes at the same time.

Becca licked her lips and they suddenly glistened in the sun.  He touched them with his forefinger.  “Tell me it’ll always be you and me, Becca.”

Becca smiled sweetly then lay onto her arm still facing him.  “It will always be you and me.”

John lay beside her, propped on his arm, their elbows touching and their foreheads kissing.  He caressed her face as her fingers delicately brushed his.  “You’re the best part of me,” he said.  “It’ll always be you,” he smiled as they both closed their eyes.

“Promise?” she asked, softly, pleadingly.

“I promise,” he said, almost in a whisper, before they drifted off to sleep.