Page 79 of Stone

But I know what it’s going to lead to, so bring it on, John. There’s nothing you could ever do to make me stop loving you. Maybe I shouldn’t lay all my cards on the table. Perhaps I should hold something back, but you’ve always been honest with me about your feelings, and that honesty is something I can give back freely and without any doubt in my mind, knowing you’ll care for it the same way you take care of me.

Everything here is good. I saw your mom after the church service on Sunday. We were sitting outside the coffee shop when your dad and the rest of the Speed Demons all rode down Main Street for their first run of the year. It was amazing, John, the sound of all those bikes popping and roaring. I know Harley’s don’t exactly purr, but the noise was still beautiful. Maybe it was because they reminded me of being on the back of your bike with the wind in my hair and you in my heart.

The happiest moments of my life have been when I was molded to your back as we rode out of town for one of our adventures.

.

I knew how much you’d have loved to be on that run. When I was a girl, I’d stand on the sidewalk outside my dad’s store and watch the bikes ride down Main Street. I remember the smell of the engines and the whiff of tobacco that followed the line of motorcycles. I also remember you on the back of your dad’s old Aermacchi Sprint, clutching him so tight I was surprised he could breathe.

I love that you have those memories with your dad. I wish my dad had made memories like that with me.

I have some news.

Mayor Henderson has asked me to intern in his office over the summer. I think I want to do it, and of course, my dad is beside himself with happiness, but I wanted to check with you before I agree. I know you said you wouldn’t mind when I mentioned it over New Year, but I’ll hold off on giving him an answer until you let me know it’s okay.

I can’t really think of much else to say, though. I’m sure that as soon as I seal the envelope, I’ll remember something else. So many little things happen everyday which make me think, I must tell John in my next letter, but when I put pen to paper, it’s gone.

I need to start carrying a notepad around.

I love you so much, John. Write soon.

I miss you.

Yours always,

Elise

XOXO

John ~ April

Duchess,

It was so good to speak to you last week. Can you believe we got a whole fifteen minutes on the payphone before I had to hang up? Usually, the queue of men gets antsy after five minutes of waiting. It’s hard to talk properly when fifty hairy-assed Marines are listening in, but this time, the coast was clear, so I must’ve caught it at the right time.

I’m sorry I couldn’t get Easter weekend off. I was so looking forward to having you here. I still haven’t taken you to the beach or shown you around San Diego. It’s a beautiful place, Leesy, full of life and so much beauty. There’s something about beach living that makes the darkest problems seem somehow lighter. Maybe the beach is God’s natural stress reliever, along with the mountains of Wyoming, things he gave humanity to stop us going completely nuts.

My promotion’s coming along well. I’ve taken my first test, but I’ve still got a few more to go. Obviously, I‘ve got to do better atcomms, but Spence is a good teacher, so I’m quietly confident. That’s if we get that far, we’re in Sarge’s bad books. Out on the range last week, he got shit on from a great height, literally. A bird crapped on his face. We were howling with laughter.

Every time we see him now, he scowls at us, but it was worth it just to see all that bird crap dripping off his ugly mug.

This business is serious, but we laugh a lot. I guess it’s to ease the tension. Sometimes, it’s like a pressure cooker here. Everybody’s talking about the news and what’s going on in the Middle East. I take solace in the fact that our warfare has come a long way since ‘Nam, and if we go in, it’ll probably be short and sharp.

Anyway, no point talking about something that hasn’t happened. God willing, everything will sort itself out, and I can get through the next few years without going to damned war.

Cross your fingers, baby.

I miss you so much that I dream of you, and they’re so vivid that sometimes I wake up and think you’re next to me. Your picture’s next to my bed and in my top pocket, and I wear my arrowhead proudly next to my heart. I’m feeling more settled now. I love going home to see you but hate leaving at the end. It’s what I chose and what I have to live with, at least for now.

Take care, baby. Hurry up and write.

Yours,

Stone.

Elise ~ May

John,

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