Not Just For Christmas. Debbie Macomber

years earlier. So much that it still caused them pain.

      “I’m glad you’re doing this,” she said. “Over the years I’ve wanted to talk about Vaughn, but I get choked up whenever time I try.”

      She grabbed a bottle of hand lotion and occupied herself with that for a few moments, but Vaughn wasn’t fooled. She didn’t want him to see that her eyes were brimming with tears.

      “Hassie will do a far better job of telling you about Vaughn than your father or I could.”

      Impulsively Vaughn hugged his mother, then joined his father, who was watching television in the living room.

      On Sunday the drive into Buffalo Valley seemed to go faster than it had on Friday. He knew exactly where he needed to go, and the very landscape he’d found monotonous two days earlier now seemed familiar, even welcoming.

      When he pulled into town, Buffalo Bob was spreading salt on the sidewalk in front of his own place and the businesses on either side. He waved, and Vaughn returned the gesture, then eased into a parking spot near the pharmacy. Once again he was struck by what an appealing town Buffalo Valley was. It felt as though he’d stepped back in time, to an era when family and a sense of community were priorities, when neighbor helped neighbor and people felt responsible for one another.

      A sign on the door stated that the drugstore was open from noon until five on Sundays during December. When he walked inside, Vaughn found Hassie behind the counter. He automatically looked for Carrie and wasn’t disappointed when he saw her over by the cash register, checking receipts. She paused in her task as soon as she saw him.

      To his surprise, his mind had drifted toward her a number of times since Friday. He was attracted by her charm, which was real and uncontrived. She was genuine and warm, and he liked the pride in her eyes when she talked about her town.

      She froze, as if she, too, had been thinking of him. That was a pleasant thought and one that sent a shiver of guilt through him. He was as good as engaged to Natalie, and the last thing he should be doing was flirting with another woman.

      “Right on time,” Hassie said, sounding much livelier this afternoon than she had two days earlier.

      “I’m rarely tardy when I have a date with a beautiful woman,” he teased, and watched both Hassie and Carrie smile. He generally didn’t have much use for flattery, but occasionally it served a purpose. In this case, his rather silly statement had given everyone, including him, a moment of pleasure.

      “You going to be all right here by yourself?” She turned to Carrie.

      “Of course. You two go and visit, and don’t you worry about a thing.”

      “I’ll just get my coat,” Hassie said, and disappeared to retrieve it. While she was gone, he had a few minutes with Carrie.

      “I’m glad you’re doing this for Hassie,” she said. “It means so much to her to be sharing her son’s life with you.”

      “I’m not doing it out of any sense of charity.” Vaughn was truly interested in learning what he could about his namesake.

      Hassie returned, wearing a long, dark coat, and they walked over to her house, which was one street off Main. Vaughn slowed his gait to match hers, tucking her arm in the crook of his elbow. Together they strolled leisurely down the newly shoveled sidewalk.

      The house resembled something out of a 1950s movie. The furniture was large and bulky, covered in thick navy-blue fabric. Doilies decorated the back of the chair, and three were strategically placed across the back of the matching sofa. Even the television set was an old-fashioned floor model.

      “It’ll only take me a minute to make tea,” Hassie announced heading toward the kitchen. He was given instructions to sit down and to look through the photo albums she’d already laid out.

      Vaughn opened the biggest album. The first photograph he saw was a black-and-white version of a much younger Hassie standing with a baby cradled in her arms. A tall, handsome man stood awkwardly beside her, grinning self-consciously. His hand was on the shoulder of a little girl about four or five who stood in front of them, her dark brown hair in long braids.

      Thereafter, photograph after photograph documented the life of Vaughn Knight. He was in Boy Scouts and active in his church. His school pictures showed increasing growth and maturity. When he reached high school, Vaughn had grown tall and athletic; a series of newspaper articles detailed his success on the basketball court and the football field. The year he was a senior, Buffalo Valley High School won the state football championship, with Vaughn Knight as the star quarterback. Another article named him Most Valuable Player.

      His high-school graduation picture revealed the face of a young man eager to explore the world.

      Hassie rejoined him, carrying a tray with a ceramic pot and two matching cups, as well as a plate of small cookies.

      Vaughn stood and took the tray from her, placing it on the coffee table, and waited while she poured. He noticed that her hands were unsteady, but he didn’t interrupt or try to assist her.

      When she’d finished, she picked up a round, plain hatbox and removed the lid. “The top letter is the first one that mentions your mother.”

      Vaughn reached for the envelope.

      September 30, 1966

      Dear Mom and Dad,

      I’m in love. Don’t laugh when you read this. Rick and I went to a hootenanny last night and there was this terrific girl there. Her name’s Barbara Lowell, and guess what? She’s from Grand Forks. She’s got long blond hair and the most incredible smile you’ve ever seen. After the hootenanny we drank coffee and talked for hours. I’ve never felt like this about any other girl. She’s smart and funny and so beautiful I had a hard time not staring at her. Even after I left her, I was so wrapped up in meeting her I couldn’t sleep. First thing this morning, I called her and we talked for two hours. Rick is thoroughly disgusted with me and I don’t blame him, but I’ve never been in love before.

      As soon as I can, I want to bring her home for you to meet. You’ll understand why I feel the way I do once you see her for yourselves.

      Love,

       Vaughn

      “The Rick he’s writing about is my dad?” Vaughn asked.

      Hassie nodded. “Here’s another one you might find interesting.” She lifted a batch of letters from the box. It was apparent from the way she sorted through the dates that she’d reread each letter countless times.

      July 16, 1967

      Dear Mom and Dad,

      I’ve made my decision, but I have to tell you it was probably the most difficult I’ve ever had to make. I love Barb, and both of us want to get married right away. If I were thinking just of me, that’s exactly what we’d do before I ship out. But I’m following your example, Dad. You and Mom waited until after the war to marry, and you came back safe and whole. I will, too.

      Barb cried when I told her I felt it was best to delay the wedding until after my tour. Although you never advised me one way or the other, I had the feeling you thought it was better this way.

      Vaughn stopped reading. “Did you want him to wait before marrying my mother?”

      Hassie closed her eyes. “His father and I thought they were both too young. In the years that followed, I lived to regret that. Perhaps if Vaughn had married your mother, there might have been a grandchild. I realize that’s terribly selfish, and I hope you’ll forgive me.”

      “There’s nothing to forgive.”

      “I always wondered if Jerry would’ve lived longer if we’d had grandchildren. Valerie was still in college at the time and wasn’t married yet. A few years after that, she moved to Hawaii to take a job and met her husband there, but by then it was too late for Jerry.”

      “So your husband took the news of Vaughn’s death very