Between Friends (10 page)

Love,

Lesley and all

***

MONTGOMERY GORDON, ESQUIRE

248 Phillips Avenue
Pine Ridge, Washington 98005

March 19, 1976

My dearest Jillian,

I know you’re away for the weekend. Not talking to you doesn’t seem right, especially on a Friday evening when we’ve so often chatted. But perhaps it’s for the best. I’ll write everything down so you can read this over carefully and think about what I have to say.

All those years ago when we first met, I knew I was going to love you. I realize it makes you uncomfortable when I tell you this, but I can’t deny what I know to be true. After all this time, it seems like a miracle that you feel the same way about me.

If you remember last Christmas, I mentioned marriage in hopes of gauging your reception to the idea. You immediately tensed up, as though you were afraid I’d press the subject. Your reaction told me everything I feared. You listed all the reasons talk of marriage was premature. You live on the East Coast, while I live on the West. Your job, my job. Your friends, my friends. Within five minutes, you had me believing a marriage between us would be impractical and improbable. It made me see what a persuasive attorney you are.

In the months since, I’ve had time to think about your objections. True enough, there are several considerations that require discussion. But nothing so major it can’t be resolved. It occurred to me recently that we can find a solution to any one of these issues. The real reason is Nick Murphy, isn’t it? I know you loved him, Jillian, and that you love him still.

I can’t compete with a dead man. I won’t try. But I can assure you that I don’t intend to replace Nick. He’s part of you. His love for you and yours for him shaped you into the woman you are. The woman I love. I don’t love you the same way as Nick did. What you had with him is unique. But I can and will love you as me. And the love we share, while completely separate, will be unique in its own way.

If you do agree to marry me, I want you to know I don’t expect you to stop loving Nick.

That said, I also want you to know I put out a few feelers on the East Coast to see what kind of response I’d get on the job market. To my delight, I’ve been offered an excellent position with the Justice Department.

If I could be certain you’d accept my proposal, I’d leap at the offer. I love you, Jillian, and want nothing more than to be married to you. But I can’t, I won’t, uproot my entire life unless you’re sure this is what you want, too. Think about it. Consider it seriously. The problem is, I need an answer soon. Will you marry me, Jillian? Tell me. Yes? No?

Love,

Montgomery

***

JILLIAN LAWTON

March 21, 1976

My dearest Monty,

Forgive me for being such a coward and writing instead of telling you personally or over the phone. Your letter arrived this afternoon. I knew it was coming and had guessed at its contents. Nevertheless I was stunned. You want an answer right away. I understand, and you deserve one, but I can’t make a decision like this under pressure.

Before I write any more, it’s important that you know how deeply I’ve come to love you. I love you so much...and yet, I’m afraid. I have never completely understood what frightens me about marrying you, but the fear is there. I suspect you know what’s coming.

I’m grateful you had the courage to bring up Nick. Few people do. Your tenderness toward my feelings for him touched my heart, and has helped me sort through my feelings about you and me. In my own defense, I never expected to fall in love again. I certainly didn’t anticipate this. Perhaps such thinking was shortsighted. If I were to see a counselor, I’m sure he or she would advise me to let go of the past and get on with my life. Unfortunately I seem incapable of that, especially if it means letting go of Nick. I’m so grateful you understand and accept my love for him.

Heaven knows my parents will make a fuss, but what I’d like to suggest is this. Accept the job with the Justice Department and move in with me. Let’s give this marriage idea a trial run first.

I’m sorry, but that’s the best I can do for now.

Love,

Jillian

***

a
Pine Ridge Herald
a

May 29, 1976
Neighbors Section

Jillian Lawton Marries Prominent Local Attorney

The bride is a 1966 Graduate of Holy Name Academy in Pine Ridge, a 1970 graduate of Barnard College, and has a Harvard Law degree. She is currently residing in New York City. She is an associate at Kline and Shoemaker, Attorneys at Law.

The groom has recently accepted a position with the United States Justice Department. The couple will make their home in New York City.

Lesley Knowles, a lifelong friend of the bride, served as matron-of-honor and Charles Johnson, the groom’s cousin, served as best man. The bride’s gown featured French lace and beaded pearls over satin.

A reception was held immediately following the ceremony at Pine Ridge Country Club.

***

JILLIAN LAWTON GORDON

June 19, 1976

Dearest Lesley,

I’m taking a moment to jot you a long-overdue note. Monty and I are settling into married life. I love my husband, but even now I’m not sure I did the right thing.

I agreed to go through with the wedding because I didn’t want to lose him. I’ve never had anyone love me like this. Not even Nick. Monty is completely and totally dedicated to me. I’m telling you all this as a preface to describing our first fight. I had my hair cut and it never occurred to me that I should mention my plans to Monty. It’s trimmed like Dorothy Hamill’s and I love its short, easy-to-care-for style. Monty was so upset he barely said a word to me all night. I’m not accustomed to having a man tell me how to wear my hair. I let that be known in terms he was sure to understand. He got huffy and I got huffy right back. I learned one thing. I hate the silent treatment. We patched it up fast enough and I lured him to bed to prove all was forgiven. We so seldom bicker and this has taught us both some valuable lessons.

Speaking of “bed,” we’re hoping I’ll get pregnant soon. With Monty turning 45 this year, we don’t want to wait much longer. You, my dear and fertile friend, never seemed to have a problem with that. Any hints you care to pass on? I’ll let you know at reunion time how successful we are.

Monty and I will be staying in the city for the bicentennial celebration. Already there’s talk about security around the United Nations building against possible terrorist attack. We don’t have any definite plans for the rest of the summer, other than going to Pine Ridge in early August.

So Buck bought himself a CB radio. Yes, I can picture it! What’s his “handle”? I’ll bet Davey and Dougie love riding around in his pickup chatting with the big truckers on the Interstate. You haven’t said much about Buck lately, which leads me to think he’s up to something unpleasant.

My mom and dad are enjoying their retirement to the fullest. Monty and I are picking them up at the airport tomorrow. They’ve spent the last two weeks in Italy. Speaking of traveling, your father will love Philadelphia. It’s a fabulous city. I’m sorry your mother won’t be attending the Legionnaires’ convention with him, but from what I understand men rarely bring their wives to these things.

I can hardly wait for our class reunion, but I’m far more interested in spending time with you.

Promise me you’ll write soon.

Love,

Jillian

***

HOLY NAME ACADEMY AND
MARQUETTE HIGH SCHOOL
ANNOUNCE
THE TEN-YEAR REUNION OF THE CLASS OF 1966
AUGUST 6-8, 1976
PINE RIDGE, WASHINGTON

FRIDAY NIGHT GET-TOGETHER
SATURDAY DINNER AND DANCE
SUNDAY PICNIC
RSVP Lesley (Adamski) Knowles

IN MEMORY OF
MICHAEL JOHN ADAMSKI

March 10, 1925—July 6, 1976

SERVICES
Emerson Mortuary

ORGANIST

Sally Johnson

CASKETBEARERS

Michael Adamski, Jr. Clarence Behrens Joseph Adamski David “Buck” Knowles Bruce Adamski Roy Bensen

INTERMENT
Pine Ridge Cemetery
Pine Ridge, Washington

***

Lesley’s Diary

August 9, 1976

We are all reeling from the sudden and unexpected death of my father. Off he went with his beer-drinking buddies to Philadelphia for the American Legion convention. Mom drove him to the airport and kissed him goodbye, never dreaming that the next time she saw him would be in a casket. Dad was one of the first to come down with the mysterious ailment and one of the first to die. He was gone even before Mom could make arrangements to fly east. The shock of it rippled through our community. Bud Jones, Dad’s roommate at the convention, got sick too, but he survived. No one’s sure what happened to cause this—it’s still being investigated. All I know is that my father is dead, and my mother is grieving.

I have a lot of mixed feelings about my father. Sometimes I thought I hated him. He was never the kind of father I needed, and we disagreed on many things, but I did love him. Not until he died did I realize how much. He may not have been the greatest dad, but he
was
my dad. I’m grateful I had the reunion work to keep me busy. As long as I was involved with those arrangements, I didn’t need to deal with my feelings about him.

Now that the ten-year high school reunion has come and gone, I can say that all the committee’s hard work paid off. It was wonderful to see everyone again. The girls looked basically the same; it was the boys who were different. Most had filled out and looked more mature, more muscular.

After literally weeks of work, I came down with a terrible case of nerves. Not everyone knew I was pregnant when we graduated, and now Buck and I have four children. Not surprisingly, I received the award for the one with the most kids.

Although it was less than three weeks since we buried my dad, Mom insisted I have a new dress. All at once I felt like prom night all over again. I modeled the dress for Buck and he growled and chased me around the house. The kids loved it and laughed with delight as they watched their father sweep me off my feet.

The night of the dinner and dance it was an entirely different story. Buck knew I was supposed to be at the hall early to help set up, but he was late and then had to shower. All in all, we arrived thirty minutes late and the entire evening started on a negative note.

Then Buck disappeared and was gone for more than an hour. When he returned he had liquor on his breath and no one needed to tell me he’d been in the parking lot with a bottle, joking with his loser buddies. I tried not to let it bother me. This was
my
class reunion and if he wanted to spend it in the parking lot making crude jokes with his friends, that was his choice. I guess some of what I’m learning at Al-Anon is finally sinking in!

The highlight of the evening was dancing with Roy Kloster. Dr. Roy Kloster these days. I’ve known Roy nearly all my life. We met in first grade and went through the first eight years of school together. Then he went to Marquette and I moved on to Holy Name Academy. I asked him to the Sadie Hawkins dance when we were freshmen and desperately wanted him to kiss me. He didn’t. After that, we saw each other at sporting events and such, but neither of us ever had much to say.

Now, ten years following graduation, Roy confessed he’d had a major crush on me all through high school. On me! He was the Valedictorian of his class and I was the Salutatorian for mine. Jillian and I had always planned to be co-Valedictorians, but with the pregnancy and all, I let my last quarter’s grades slide. Roy isn’t married, and he came to the reunion alone. He teased me about getting the award for the ten-year graduate with the most kids.

Afterward I sat and chatted with Jillian and Cindy and Judy and some of the other girls. At one point, I found a quiet corner to sit and watch my friends, people I knew as a child. The oddest sensation came over me. I suddenly realized I was close to tears and I wasn’t sure why. I’ve been overly emotional lately, which is understandable, seeing that I recently lost my father, but this sadness was part of something else. I guess I’d have to call it regret. Regret about bad decisions and lost dreams.

From the age of six, I thought Roy was wonderful. He doesn’t remember this, but he defended me against Todd Kramer in the third grade and got a black eye for his efforts. In eighth grade, he secretly put a valentine and a small box of chocolates on my desk during recess, but I always knew he was the one. What I didn’t know about Roy was that he wanted to be a doctor. He never knew I dreamed of becoming a nurse.

I know this is wrong, and may God forgive me, but when I first heard the news about my dad I wished it had been Buck who’d died. I’ve felt guilty about that ever since. Buck is my husband and the father of my children. I married him, not Roy Kloster and not Cole Greenberg. I’ve got to accept reality and quit playing these ridiculous games in my mind. If I hadn’t married Buck, there’d be no Davey, Lindy, Doug or Christopher. My children are my everything.