Letters from Becca: A Contemporary Romance Fiction Novel by Margaret Ferguson Page A

studying?”
    “Education.  I want to be a teacher,” she beamed.
    “I can see you as a teacher,” he replied with a smile.
    “Really?” she asked.  “That’s so sweet.”
    Then she continued as if she was catching up an old girlfriend on what she’d been doing for the past four years.  He looked at her without really hearing her, his mind somewhere else.  He had not dated anyone since Becca.  Heck, he hadn’t dated anyone before Becca.  He hadn’t wanted anyone but Becca.  He always thought he would be coming back for her.  At least that was his plan.  But those plans had since changed.  Once he had settled in at the base, he called her several times, but she was never home.  John gave her aunt his address, sure that she’d never give it to Becca, but then one day, several months later, he received his first letter from her.
    She wrote him regularly while he was away, at least every couple of weeks.  After six months, the letters came less frequently.  About that time, she started seeing David.  Within a year of that she was engaged, and now here they were, three years later.
    John’s eyes met Marissa’s again, and she blushed.  “I said, Becca told me you fly helicopters?” she repeated.  “How exciting.”
    John nodded.
    Marissa could tell that he was distracted, so she leaned her head to get his attention.  “It’s good to see you again,” she smiled.
    As the song was ending, John looked into her eyes, as if he was studying them.
    Marissa smiled.  “What?”
    John’s eyes narrowed.  “You used to wear glasses, didn’t you?”
    Marissa beamed.
    John could feel her trembling.  He looked at Becca, who was also smiling at him.  He knew the world wouldn’t be right if she didn’t think he was going to be okay.  The song ended, everyone stopped dancing and clapped.  Then John turned to Marissa.  “Would you like a cup of punch?”
    Marissa shrugged with excitement.  He took her hand and led her to the punch table.  They arrived at the same time as Becca and David and the photographer.
    David talked to the photographer about some pictures he wanted taken with his grandparents while John retrieved the punch.  He turned to find Becca and Marissa whispering and giggling and cutting their eyes at him.  John shot Becca a reprimanding glare as he walked toward them and handed Marissa a punch.  She thanked him and walked to the cake table to prepare it for the cake cutting.
    Becca slid her arm through John’s and looked up at him, her eyes searching his.  She smiled.  John reached around her and hugged her.  He felt her breath on his neck.  He closed his eyes, pulling her close again.  “I am happy for you, Becca,” he sighed softly.  “I am so happy for you.”  He reluctantly released her one last time.
    David walked up to her and took her by the arm.  The photographer stood in front of them.  “Great shot, everyone.  Don’t move.”
    Becca pulled the two men closer to her side.
    “Everyone, smile!”

Chapter 7:  November 11, 2000
    John called the local Greyhound station and asked about departures to San Antonio from Dallas.  There was a bus departing in three hours.  So he spent the next fifteen minutes packing a bag with three days of clothing, then the next hour and a half digging through his closet and cabinets and dressers for a shoebox.  When he found it, he set it in his overnight bag, then dialed his neighbor who always looked in on Patches and watered his plants whenever he was away.  He told her where to find the key, made sure his house was secure, and drove to the bus station.
    John wasn’t thrilled about the fact he couldn’t drive that far on his own anymore.  His eyes weren’t what they used to be; his peripheral vision worse than ever.  Otherwise, he would already be on the road headed to his friend.  He hated getting older.  He had been through three tours in Vietnam, and never felt as bad then as he did now.  His knees were shot