Changing Habits (6 page)

Joanna's studies at the hospital continued. Despite her fears that Greg's absence would make the time drag, this first year was flying by.

“Was it hard for you to wait for Daddy?” Joanna asked her mother as they sat out on the patio in the bright June sunshine.

“The war seemed interminable,” her mother said, relaxing on a chaise longue. “Like you and Greg, we were engaged, I kissed him goodbye when he left for the South Pacific and then we didn't see each other for twenty-two months.”

“I could never wait that long,” Joanna said. She sipped her soda and tried to calm her anxieties. There hadn't been a letter from Greg in four days. Lately he hadn't been writing real letters, either. They were more like notes he dashed off early in the morning before he went on duty. But Joanna didn't care; it didn't matter how long his letters were. All she needed was the knowledge that she was in his thoughts.

“You do whatever is necessary,” her mother told her. “That's what women have always done.”

“Twenty-two months.” Joanna couldn't bear to be apart from Greg for almost two years. Already it seemed far longer than that since she'd last seen him—and since they'd last made love.

“I didn't know from one day to the next if your father was alive or not,” her mother added.

“I think I'd know if anything happened to Greg.” She hadn't meant to say it out loud, but Joanna felt certain her heart would tell her if he was injured…or worse. They were so closely linked, so deeply in love.

“How's Penny?” her mother asked.

Joanna sighed. “Back in the hospital. Sister Theresa called earlier to let me know. I'll go up to see her first thing tomorrow.”

The phone rang and Joanna raced into the kitchen. Twice now Greg had managed to reach her stateside and they'd talked, however briefly. Her emotional high had lasted for days afterward.

“Hello,” she answered cheerfully. The kitchen radio played the Beatles song “I Want to Hold Your Hand” and she made a mental note to take Penny her transistor radio.

Ten minutes later, Joanna put down the receiver. “Mom, Mom,” she cried, so excited she could barely stand still. “That was the fabric store in Boston. The material's in.” At fifty dollars a yard, the stuff was horrendously expensive, but her mother had ordered Belgian lace anyway. It was for Joanna's wedding dress, after all, which the best seamstress in town was sewing.

“Did you ask her to mail it?”

“No…I didn't think of it.”

“Good.” Her mother sat up and removed her sunglasses. “Because you and I will be personally picking it up.”

“We're going to Boston?” Joanna shrieked.

“We are,” her mother said, sounding delighted, “and we're going to shop. Every bride needs a trousseau.”

“Oh, Mom, really?” Joanna felt like crying with gratitude and excitement. The wedding had seemed so far away, but now that the lace had arrived it had suddenly become real.

“I want everything to be perfect for you,” her mother said.

“What will Dad say?”

“Leave him to me.”

They left the next morning and were away for three glorious days. This trip was exactly the restorative Joanna needed. Sure enough, a long letter from Greg awaited her when she returned. She immediately sat down and wrote him back, describing the shopping spree and the hotel and what a fabulous time she'd had.

Because Joanna and her mother had left on the spur of the moment, she hadn't been to the hospital to visit Penny yet.

Packing up the lacy silk gown she intended to wear on her wedding night, plus her going-away suit and shoes, Joanna arrived at the hospital late on Tuesday afternoon. Penny would enjoy seeing everything, and Joanna was eager to show off her purchases.

Sister Theresa was at the nurses' station when Joanna walked off the elevator.

“Joanna,” Sister said abruptly.

“Hello, Sister. I'm here to see Penny.”

Sister's face fell and she sighed softly. “I'm so sorry to tell you, we lost her yesterday afternoon.”

“Lost her?” The hospital didn't
lose
people. Then it dawned on Joanna. “Penny…died?”

“I'm sorry, Joanna. I know what good friends the two of you became.”

A sob broke free from the constricted muscles of her throat. The shock of Penny's death sent the room spinning.
Joanna hadn't seen her in two weeks, but they'd talked on the phone and Penny had always seemed so optimistic. Never once had she mentioned her leukemia. Whenever Joanna asked, Penny had brushed aside the question. It was clear she didn't want to talk about her illness and Joanna hadn't pressured her.

“Come and sit down,” Sister said, gently sliding her arm around Joanna. “Penny often told me how much she loved your visits. Her other friends had drifted away, but you were there for her.”

Only she hadn't been, Joanna realized, sick to her stomach. While Penny had been lying alone and friendless in the hospital, Joanna was off shopping as though she hadn't a care in the world. The guilt tarnished her happiness, made it seem trite.

In Greg's next letter a few weeks later he tried to console her. “You couldn't have known, Joanna. Stop blaming yourself. You
were
there for her. You visited when she needed you.”

But even his words didn't help and Joanna didn't know if she could ever forgive herself. She walked around in a daze. She'd never lost a friend before and felt that she'd failed Penny. Sister Theresa talked to her several times, offering both compassion and common sense. The nun's kindness made a real difference.

“I heard from Scott,” Sister told Joanna the following week.

“Penny's Scott?” Joanna asked.

Sister nodded. “He knew from the first that Penny wasn't going to recover, but like her he pretended she would. He's taking it hard, but he's a strong Catholic and has accepted the will of God.”

Joanna wished she had the faith to be more accepting. Her own relationship with God had suffered since that first time in the back seat of Greg's Chevy. Oh, she faithfully attended Mass every week, sitting in the pew with Rick and
her parents. Her brother was bored by church, but he went because he didn't have a choice. Joanna's attitude wasn't much better. Religion had become irrelevant to her. It wasn't only Penny she'd let down; it was God, too.

“If you ever need to talk,” Sister Theresa invited, “you know you can tell me anything.”

It was as though the nun had read her thoughts. Penny's death had shaken Joanna, and no one else understood that. Not her parents. Not Greg either, although he tried. He seemed to be more and more preoccupied lately. Judging by one or two comments he'd made, he appeared to be involved in some trouble of his own—something to do with his commanding officer. Joanna knew she should ask, but she didn't. School and the wedding demanded all her energy. Then, in July, as Greg's year of duty drew to an end, he wrote to say that it was important for them to talk.

Talk? About what? She wrote and asked, but Greg said he'd explain everything once he got home. And that was fine with her. She needed him, wanted him close. The wedding was less than a month away; she should be excited—in a few weeks, she would be Greg's bride. His
wife.
Instead of making love in the back seat of a car, she would enjoy the luxury of waking in a real bed, wrapped in her husband's embrace.

Just as Joanna finished preparing the wedding invitations, she received word that Greg was flying home. It was early, but she had no complaints. This was the best news she'd gotten in weeks. No, months. She wondered if this unexpected reprieve was linked to his troubles with the military, but Joanna didn't care. Whatever the reason, she was grateful.

“We'll have a long heart-to-heart when I'm home,” he wrote again.

“I need you,” she wrote back. She craved his arms around her and the release his body would give her. It wasn't only physical satisfaction she sought but emotional, too. With
Greg she could be herself. She could let him see her grief over Penny. What had seemed impossible to convey through letters would be easier to explain in person.

Joanna didn't sleep the night before Greg was scheduled to arrive. His mother had called to say—testily, Joanna thought—that Greg's family would meet him at the airport alone. Joanna could see him later. It was as though Mrs. Markham was purposely excluding her from this reunion and Joanna resented it.

“Mrs. Markham doesn't want me there,” she complained to her mother.

Her mother didn't bother to hide her irritation. “Greg is your fiancé, for heaven's sake.”

“I'm sure he'll be expecting me.” Joanna didn't know why his mother was being so unreasonable, but she had no intention of waiting silently at home. “I'm going to the airport on my own.”

Her mother nodded. “I think you should. You don't need to ride with Greg's parents.”

At the airport, Joanna felt a little silly sneaking behind his parents' backs. She couldn't stay away, though, and considered it cruel of his mother to have suggested it.

When Greg's plane touched down, she saw his parents standing apart from everyone else. They seemed to be arguing. Joanna would have said something, revealed her presence, but she didn't want to embarrass them. His mother took a handkerchief from her purse and dabbed her eyes.

Soon the passengers disembarked, and Joanna strained for a glimpse of Greg. The instant she saw him, her heart leapt with joy. She had to force herself not to run straight into his arms.

It was a good thing she didn't.

Seconds later she realized Greg hadn't traveled from Vietnam alone. There was a woman with him—a petite Vietnamese woman who was obviously pregnant.

Confused, Joanna stared at them. Greg was bringing a foreign woman to the States? A pregnant woman? It didn't make sense.

As if watching a movie unfold before her eyes, Joanna stayed out of view as Greg put his arm around the woman and steered her toward his parents. Mr. and Mrs. Markham stepped forward, and the Asian woman bowed her head at the introduction.

“Greg?” Unable to remain silent any longer, Joanna moved away from the pillar where she'd been standing. “Who is this woman?”

“Joanna.” Greg looked at her, and then his mother. The blood seemed to drain from his face.

“Oh, Joanna,” his mother groaned. “You should never have come.”

Joanna ignored her. “Who is this woman?” she demanded a second time.

Greg exhaled and refused to meet her eyes. “This is Xuan. My wife.”

“Your…wife?”

Her question was met with an embarrassed silence.

If the news that he was married wasn't shock enough, Joanna's gaze fell to the small round belly. “She's pregnant?”

Greg swallowed visibly and nodded.

Still Joanna couldn't take it in. “The baby is yours?” That wasn't possible. Greg was engaged to marry
her.
Their wedding was only weeks away. She'd just had the final fitting for her wedding gown, and the bridesmaids had their dresses with shoes dyed to match, and her aunt Betty was flying in from San Francisco to attend the wedding, and…
Of course
there was going to be a wedding.

Joanna read the regret and sorrow in Greg's eyes. “I'm sorry,” he whispered.

“You couldn't tell me? You left me to learn this on my
own?” Doing something so underhanded was horrible enough, but to humiliate her just four weeks before the wedding was cruel beyond words.

“I
couldn't
tell you,” he cried. His eyes pleaded with her for understanding.

“My father important man,” the Asian woman said boldly. “He—” she pointed at Greg “—marry me. Take me to America. Big trouble for him if not.” Xuan faced Joanna and stared at her. “He love me.” She planted her hands on her stomach as if to say she bore the evidence of Greg's love.

“Yes, I can see that he does,” Joanna said quietly.

“Joanna, please—this is awkward enough.” Greg's mother moved toward them. “Do you think it would be possible to have this discussion elsewhere?” Mrs. Markham glanced self-consciously around her.

His mother was right. This was neither the time nor the place to deal with such—what had she called it?—awkwardness.

“I should never have come,” Joanna said in a voice she barely recognized as her own.

“Now you know why I asked you to stay home.” Mrs. Markham sounded angry.

“We couldn't say anything,” his father said, obviously taking pity on Joanna. “It wasn't our place.” He was kind enough to escort her to the parking lot. Joanna followed obediently but it felt as though she was walking in a fog.

“Greg should have explained the situation,” he said when they'd reached her vehicle. “He said he couldn't do that to you in a letter. You'd already had one shock this summer.”

Joanna stared up at him blankly.

“Your friend died.”

“Oh, you mean Penny.”

“Perhaps I should drive you home,” he suggested, and held out his hand for her car keys.

Joanna stared at his palm. “Did I tell you Mom and Dad got the country club for the wedding reception?”

“Joanna, there isn't going to be a wedding.”

She blinked rapidly. He was right. No wedding because there was no groom. Her fiancé was married to someone else. A Vietnamese woman, who'd told them that her father was a powerful government official. So this was the trouble Greg had been alluding to in his letters, the trouble that had involved his commanding officer. His Vietnamese wife was the reason Greg had been sent stateside early.

“I'll be fine,” she said and opened the car door herself. Once inside, she pressed her forehead against the steering wheel and waited for the waves of shock and disbelief to dissipate before attempting to drive. When she noticed that Greg's father was still outside, she hurriedly started the engine and drove away.