Not Just For Christmas. Debbie Macomber
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and started having heart problems. A year later, he died, too.”
“Heart attack?”
“Technically, yes, but Vaughn’s death is what really killed him, despite what that death certificate said. He simply gave up caring about anything. I wish …” Her voice trailed off.
“I’m sorry,” Vaughn said, and meant it.
“Don’t be.” She patted his hand. “God knew better. Had your mother and my son married, you would never have been born.”
It must have hit her hard that her son’s fiancée and closest friend married each other within a year of his death. “Were you upset when my parents got married?” he asked.
“A little in the beginning, but then I realized that was exactly what Vaughn would have wanted. He did love her, and I know in my heart of hearts that she loved him, too.”
“She did.” Vaughn could say that without hesitation.
Hassie plucked a tissue from the nearby box and dabbed at her eyes. “I’d like you to have this.” She reached for a second box and withdrew a heavy felt crest displaying the letters BVHS. It took Vaughn a moment to recognize that it was from a letterman’s jacket.
“Vaughn was very proud of this. He earned it in wrestling. He was a natural at most sports. Basketball and football were barely a challenge, but that wasn’t the case with wrestling. Many an afternoon he’d walk into the pharmacy and announce to his father and me that he was quitting. By dinnertime he’d change his mind and then he’d go back the next day.” She paused, dabbing at her eyes again. “Our children were the very best of Jerry and me. Vaughn was a good son, and losing him changed all of us forever.”
“I’d be honored to have this letter,” Vaughn said.
“Thank you,” Hassie whispered. She smiled faintly through her tears. “You must think me an old fool.”
“No,” he was quick to tell her. “I’m very glad you showed me all this.” For the first time Vaughn Knight was more than a name, someone remembered who’d been lost in a war fought half a world away. He was alive in the words of his letters, in the photographs and in the heart of his mother.
“His letters from Vietnam are in this box,” Hassie said. “They’ll give you a feel for what it was like. If you’re interested …”
Having served in the military, Vaughn was, of course, interested. He sat back and read the first letter. When he’d finally finished them all, it’d grown dark and Hassie was busy in the kitchen.
“What time is it?” he asked.
“It’s after six.”
“No.” He found that hard to believe. “I had no idea I’d kept you this long. I apologize, Hassie. You should have stopped me.”
She shook her head. “I couldn’t. Your interest was a pleasure to me. Everything was fine with the store—Carrie’s fully capable of handling anything that might come up. Besides, we’re closed now.”
“He could’ve been a writer, your son,” Vaughn said, setting aside the last letter. For a few hours he’d been completely drawn into Vaughn Knight’s descriptions of people and landscapes and events. Although the details were lightly sketched, a vivid picture of the young soldier’s life had revealed itself through his words.
“I often thought that myself,” Hassie agreed. After a brief silence she said, “I didn’t want to interrupt you to ask about dinner. I hope it wasn’t overly presumptuous to assume you’d join me.”
“I’d like that very much.”
Hassie nodded once, slowly, as if she considered his company of great worth.
While she put the finishing touches on the meal, Vaughn phoned his parents to tell them he’d be later than anticipated. “Be sure and give Hassie my love,” his mother instructed. “Tell her your father and I plan to visit her soon.”
“I will,” he promised.
When he ended the phone conversation, he found Hassie setting the table. He insisted on taking over, eager to contribute something to their dinner. His admiration and love for the older woman had grown this afternoon in ways he hadn’t thought possible on such short acquaintance. She’d opened his eyes to a couple of important things. First and foremost, he’d learned about the man he’d been named after and discovered he had quite a lot to live up to. Second, he’d come to see his parents in a new light. He understood how their fallen friend had shaped their lives and their marriage. It was no wonder they didn’t often speak of Vaughn Knight. The years might have dulled the pain, but the sense of loss was as strong in them as it was in Hassie.
They chatted over dinner, and his mood lightened. Hassie was wise and considerate; she seemed to understand how serious his thoughts had become.
“The community is lighting the Christmas tree this evening,” she said casually as Vaughn carried their dishes to the sink.
“Are you going?” he asked.
“I wouldn’t miss it for the world,” Hassie informed him. “The Christmas tree is set up beside the War Memorial. Nearly everyone in town will be there—” she paused and looked at him “—including Carrie.”
“Are you playing matchmaker with me, Hassie Knight?” he asked. He had a feeling she didn’t miss much—and that she’d seen the way his gaze had been drawn to Carrie when he’d entered the pharmacy.
Hassie chuckled. “She’s smitten, you know.”
Smitten. What a wonderful old-fashioned word, Vaughn mused. It would take a better man than him not to feel flattered.
“You could do worse.”
“And how do you know I don’t already have a girlfriend waiting for me in Seattle?” he asked, and wondered what Hassie would think of Natalie. For some reason he had the impression she wouldn’t think much of her sharp-edged sophistication. It’d taken him a while to see past Natalie’s polished exterior; once he had, he’d realized she was just like everyone else, trying to be noticed and to make a name for herself.
“You don’t,” Hassie returned confidently.
He was about to tell her about Natalie, when Hassie said, “Come with me. Come and watch the community tree being lit. There’s no better way to learn about Buffalo Valley.”
Vaughn’s purpose, other than meeting Hassie, was to do exactly that. Still, seeing Carrie again appealed to him, too—more than it should.
“That’s just what I need to put me in the Christmas spirit,” Vaughn said. “I’d consider it an honor to accompany you.”
“Wonderful.” Hassie clasped her hands together as though to keep herself from clapping with delight. “I can’t tell you how happy this makes me.”
He helped her on with her coat, then grabbed his own. Taking her arm again, Vaughn guided her out the door and down the front steps. By the time they rounded the corner to Main Street and the City Park, the town was coming to life. There were groups of people converging on the park and cars stopping here and there. The air was filled with festivity—carols played over a loudspeaker, kids shrieking excitedly, shouts of welcome … and laughter everywhere. Vaughn could practically feel the happiness all around him.
“This is about as close as it gets to a traffic jam in Buffalo Valley,” Hassie told him.
As soon as they appeared, it seemed everyone in town called a greeting to Hassie. Vaughn had never seen anything to compare with the reverence and love people obviously felt for her.
“You’ve been holding out on me, Hassie Knight,” an older man teased as he approached. “I didn’t realize I had competition.”
“Cut it out, Joshua McKenna.” Hassie grinned. “Meet Vaughn Kyle.”