Buffalo Valley

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 hard?”

“Once we received word about Vaughn, my husband was never the same. He was close to both children, but the shock of Vaughn’s death somehow made him lose his emotional balance. Much as he loved Valerie and me, he couldn’t get over the loss of his son. He went into a deep depression 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.”