“Maybe you’re right.”
“Of course I’m right,” I said, then went about unpacking the basket I had brought for George. “Have you eaten yet?”
“I had a little something earlier, but I could eat.”
“Well, there’s enough in here for the both of you,” I said, revealing turkey legs, rolls, and sweet potato pie among other things. “When George gets back, you both can eat to your heart’s delight.”
He managed a larger smile this time, a small slice of the old Jack I knew making its way through the gloom. “Thanks, Sara. You always know how to cheer me up.”
His words warmed my heart. “It’s what friends do, right?” I said, trying to keep my voice steady. I couldn’t show him how much those words meant to me.
“Right. Hey, Sara?”
“Yes?”
“Thank you, for everything. You really are a good friend.”
I swallowed hard, fighting the lump in my throat. “You’re welcome. And remember, if you ever need someone to talk to, I’m always here.”
I left the cabin that evening with a bittersweet taste in my mouth. I had fought the urge to tell Jack how I truly felt, that he should forget about Ellie and be with me instead. But I couldn’t betray his trust like that, not when he was so vulnerable and lost.I could only shoulder his burdens and remain by his side, a loyal friend, even if my heart yearned for more.
14
Over the courseof the next couple of months, I kept my distance from Jack, focusing all of my time and energy on school and my part-time job at the campus library. Jack had always been my closest friend, but the feelings I had for him, unreciprocated and intense, made it impossible to maintain the same level of closeness we once shared.
Fortunately, I met someone—a boy from my anthropology class named Ryan. He was handsome and charming, with a soft-spoken demeanor that was comforting and sincere. We fell into a comfortable rhythm, studying together during the week and going out on casual dates on weekends. For a time, it seemed like I could move on from my complicated feelings for Jack. But then, early one morning, I received a knock on my door that upended everything.
Knoxville, TN
February 1951
Jack didn’t say a word when I opened the door, just handed me a letter with trembling hands. He looked even worse than thelast time I had seen him. His hollowed-out cheeks made his eyes look bigger and sadder, his unkempt hair showing the stress of a sleepless night.
“Jack, what’s happened?” I asked, concerned by his appearance.
He shook his head, slumping onto the couch in my living room. I took a seat beside him, opening the letter. A gasp escaped my lips as I read the words typed on the crisp, official-looking paper. It was a draft notice. Jack was being called to serve in the Korean War. I blinked rapidly, trying to stave off the tears pricking at the corners of my eyes.
“It’s going to be okay,” I told him, not only trying to convince him, but myself as well. “You’re going to be okay.”
He looked at me, his eyes glassy. “You don’t know that, Sara. No one knows that for sure.”
The reality of the situation started to sink in. Jack wasn’t just going away for a while. He was going to war. But I couldn’t let my fear show. He needed me to be strong for him, even if inside I felt like I was breaking apart.
“You’re right. I don’t know that for sure. But what I do know is that you’re strong. You’re brave. And you have a whole lot of people who care about you and will be praying for your safe return.”His eyes searched mine, looking for certainty, for reassurance. In that moment, I found a reservoir of strength within myself I didn't know existed. I held his gaze, unblinking, and nodded. “Just promise me you’ll be careful. Promise me you won’t take any unnecessary risks. You mean too much to me, Jack…to everyone who cares about you.”
He stared at me for a long time before he nodded once, slowly. “I promise.”
Over the next few weeks, I saw Jack several times. We went for long walks in the woods, sat for hours on the dock, and talked about anything and everything under the sun.
The night before he left, we sat under a sky so clear you could see the Milky Way stretching out above us. Jack turned to me, his face lit by the ghostly glow of the moon. “I need you to do something for me while I’m gone.”
“Anything,” I said, knowing that I would move mountains for him if he asked.
“I want you to hold onto this.” From his coat pocket, he pulled a small leather notebook and handed it to me. “Do you know what this is?”
I nodded, recognizing the cover. ”It’s your journal...the one you write in every day.”
“Guard this with your life.”
