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The first letter appeared on the morning of their wedding, tucked inside a bouquet of flowers left on the Kellers’ doorstep. Her mother had found it and delivered it to Vera with a knowing smile, clearly bursting to know the contents of the letter and the reason for the flowers. Wishing her daughter was one of those who shared everything with her mother, and not one who kept things from her.
The relationship with Bob had been one that Vera had kept from her parents for quite a long time, uncertain of their reaction to it. The relationship with the army officer she had previously seen had been one that her father had arranged, and she had been afraid they would dislike the choices she had made. It had not deterred her from continuing, however, much too interested in the man that had shown up on her doorstep in a grand uniform she had never seen him wear again since.
Her memories of Bob from before the war had only ever been brief. The Leckie household had always been familiar, known as the noisiest on the street with the sheer number of children it contained. It had been somewhat of a curiosity to her for a few years during her childhood, but she had soon lost interest as time moved on and her attention was required elsewhere. There had been no girls living there that were of a similar age to her, and so it had never been a household her parents had encourage her to take an interest in.
However, after the war the house quickly became like a second home to her. It was emptier then, with only Bob left at home with his parents, and it felt like a completely different house than the one she had always seen across the street from her bedroom window.
It had seemed perfect then, happy, but Bob had taught her truth during their time together. Told her of the childhood he had had, of the hours spent hiding from his parents and the years of rebellion that had eventually led him to the Marines. The wish for another life, of adventure that had – according to himself – misguided him so severely.
But she had seen the man under the unhappiness, and he had shown her a side of himself that she was quick to fall in love with. Despite his past experiences he was happy, his smile able to light up any room. His curls always catching the sunlight in a way that made them glow, and his hands always leaving her skin buzzing whenever he touched her. She had been determined to save herself for marriage at one point, but after the first time he kissed her she had been lost. Longing, wishing, aching for more, and knowing he was the only man she would ever give herself to. The only man she could ever want.
Her parents’ reaction had been cool at first, uncertain of Robert Leckie from across the street when she first told them of him. Asking her questions she didn’t want to answer from across a cooling dinner as she moved uneasily in her seat. Already so sure of the future she wanted that any hint at dislike made her defensive and uncomfortable.
But they had understood. Eventually. And it had all led to the day ahead, and the letter handed to her by her mother, where Bob stood as the sender.
Dear Vera,
I have pondered the contents of this letter for many a night. When I said I would write to you that afternoon outside St. Mary’s, I did so with a strange feeling of hope surging through my body. Life was different then, the future full of promise and glory.
War is none of those things. It extinguishes hope and tramples glory under muddy, bloody boots. It rips everything up by the roots and destroys anything and anyone who even hopes for a future.
But I still want to hold on to something. I want to hold on to that hope you lit in me, even if it may turn out futile in the end. Perhaps one day I can bring that hope out once more and share it with you.
Yours,
Robert.
It was a strange letter, and in the moment, she barely understood its contents. She had turned it over time and time again, reading and re-reading until her head was spinning and her mother ripped the letter out of her hands. Folding it up without reading and tucking it in a drawer.
“Your Bob is an impatient man, it seems. But we will not allow him to make us late on your big day, Vera dear.” She smiled, seeming certain it had been a romantic letter that had been sent to distract her daughter from the morning ahead. Part of it was true, but the rest was not. It did distract her, kept her in thoughts as her hair was styled. Her room full of women who only seemed interesting in her looks and what Bob would think of it. Not realising that the bride sitting before them had something completely different than the wedding in her mind. Uncertainty gnawing at her as she suddenly worried the letter meant something different. That, for some reason, Bob had cold feet.
However, from the moment her eyes met Bob’s in the rectory of St. Mary’s church nothing else mattered anymore. Her doubts fled her mind as she walked up the short aisle, enveloped in the strong scent the bouquet of flowers in her hands emitted. Certain she could see the same tears welling up in her own eyes mirrored in Bob’s. The letter was forgotten, and the rest of the world fell away as her hand was placed in Bob’s. His fingers rough but strong as he gripped it and held it tight. The bright smile on his lips only there for her eyes and no one else’s.
In that moment, Vera knew there was no one else she wanted to spend the rest of her life with than Robert Leckie.
-
The second letter appeared halfway through their honeymoon, accompanied with a palm leaf. It had been left on their shared bed for her to find in the morning, and she had initially not understood what it was until she unfolded it and started reading. It had brought all the memories back of the first letter and all the questions she had had at that point in time.
Dear Vera,
Guadalcanal is an island that I wish I had never set foot on. It is all jungle, and the Japanese have made it their fortress. Each day brings us unpleasant surprises, and even though the fighting has been scarce so far, we can all feel a storm brewing. Something is coming, and no one dares to relax.
When we first arrived, we thought it a paradise. The white sandy beaches, an open blue sea and fresh coconuts made it feel more like a holiday than a war. Chuckler spent over an hour opening his first coconut and ended up wasting all the delicious milk it contained.
Oh, Vera, how naïve we were at that moment as we laughed into the sunset, we had no idea what would befall us only days, hours, minutes later. None of us could have known the men we would become or the things we would see.
I remember Tenaru, a river cutting through the jungle. Water glittering in the sunset, with crocodiles hungrily patrolling the banks. Watching us with small eyes as we dug our holes and mounted our weapons. Perhaps they knew what was to come, awaiting the feast they would soon be granted as the slaughter began.
Tenaru was a slaughter, Vera. An awful slaughter that left the river red with blood and the crocodiles looking more like monsters of the underworld than creatures inhabiting a tropical river. I do not believe I will ever be able to look at a crocodile the same way again. Not after Tenaru.
Oh, how misguided I was that day outside of St. Mary’s. How I thought I was going on an adventure when I was instead on a one-way trip to a hell no man should ever witness.
Vera. I am sorry for not being the man you met that day. I lost him along the way, and I do not know how to find him.
Yours,
Robert
She didn’t even notice the tears running down her cheeks until they hit the page before her and smudged Bob’s name into an unreadable mess. She almost dropped the paper on impact, fearing it would all disappear in a puff of smoke if she didn’t save it from the enemy that was her own tears. Here she held Bob’s innermost thoughts in her hands, his soul, his heart present in the words on the page, and it was something she could not allow to be ruined.
Vera carefully placed the letter back on the bed, allowing herself a shaky breath before she dried her tears and swung her legs over the side of the bed. Momentarily hesitating about letting her feet touch the floor, still haunted by the river full of bodies and crocodiles Bob had described for her. For a moment certain the scene would lay before her feet if she stepped down too quickly.
Eyes scanned the room for any clue of Bob’s whereabouts, surveying anything left behind as if it would build her a yellow brick road to follow to where he was. A clear path to where she could find answers to the questions running through her mind.
Why now?
Why letters?
What did he want her to do?
What could she do?
Uncertainty reared its ugly head as she wrapped herself in her dressing gown, for a moment wondering about her role in it all. She had never seen anything like what Bob described. The war had been a distant event to her, only pressing close when her father had turned the radio on in the evenings, or when the newspapers broadcast another disaster in the world. She had remembered her worry then, of what would happen if the war came to American shores, but it had been easy to forget. Back then, she had not known where Bob had been, nor thought much of what he was doing away, and so she had not worried. She had not thought of him the way she did now or wondered what he had been through. Especially not when the letters he had once promised never came.
She had thought the hour late when she had first risen, but as she stepped out the door and onto the veranda, the sun had just risen above the horizon. The rays were bathing everything in a golden light, and it only took her a moment to spot Bob where he sat on the beach, curls glowing like a halo in the light, and the smoke of his lit cigarette rising towards the sky. He looked like the very image of calm, so still there in the sand that she could almost imagine him as the subject of a painting or photograph.
Vera hesitated for a moment before she stepped out on the beach, momentarily not wishing to disturb Bob where he sat, the letter still haunting her mind. Suddenly uncertain of how to breach the subject she so wished to discuss with him.
“Good morning.” Bob was the one who broke the silence, his eyes suddenly resting on her rather than the sea. She had been staring, she realised, as he rose, discarding of his cigarette and taking the necessary steps back to meet her. His lips making contact with her cheek as he stepped close. Arms wrapping around her and chin coming to rest on top of her head. Making her feel safe, despite that she had not felt unsafe before.
“Good morning, Bob.” A smile curled her lips as she leaned into his embrace, her own arms wrapping around his torso as he started to move, carefully swaying them back and forth as if to an unheard tune. “Have you been awake long?” She felt him shrug as his lips pressed against her temple, a light stubble tickling her skin as she leaned into it, momentarily forgetting the questions on her mind.
“The waves woke me”, he muttered, lips moving down her cheek as a hand rose to tangle itself in her hair. Fingers tracing the curls still present from the night before and making her shiver with contentment. “Remind me to never allow us to settle by the sea.” His words brought her back for a moment, the lines of the letter flashing before her eyes.
“Was that why you left me the letter?” Her voice was low, hesitant, as she spoke, not even knowing what kind of reaction to expect from him.
His lips paused for a moment, hovering over the corner of her mouth as his hand cupped the back of her head. Thumb rubbing carefully against her scalp in a way that almost made her forget what she had just asked.
“What letter?” His voice gave away nothing as he spoke, but the pause and hesitance in his movements told her more than any words could in that moment.
“The letter that…” She started, but her voice faltered as he tensed in her arms, sinking back as if her mere presence was suddenly making him uncomfortable. A feeling that she, in that moment, wished she did not have to experience. To have the man she loved, the man she had given her everything to shy away from her touch as if she flame that would burn his skin.
For a moment, she was confused, uncertain of what to say next. A part of her wished for an answer to the questions gnawing away at her mind, wishing to clear the anxiety of the past and understand what he had experienced. But a second part already knew the answers would not come in that moment. Knew that his denial of the letter’s existence gave a deeper explanation than his own words could.
Dragging a breath into her own lungs she leaned back, eyes momentarily meeting his before she shook her head, allowing a gentle smile onto her lips. Trying her best to convey her understanding without the use of words, to make him certain he understood she would not press the subject. Not if he was not ready for it.
“Oh, nothing.” Her hand rose to cup his cheek, eyes scanning his face as she felt him relax. Seemingly relieved that she had understood his meaning and dropped the subject.
“How about some breakfast then, Mrs. Leckie? I heard a rumour they may have some real coffee today.” Bob’s smile returned almost as fast as it had previously disappeared, his eyes softening as he released her from his embrace and instead offered his arm to her.
“That sounds like a wonderful idea, Mr. Leckie.” Her hand wrapped around his arm before she even had the time to reflect on the state she was in. Hair still loose and unbrushed, and body covered in nothing more than a silky dressing gown. “Though I do believe I need to get dressed before we go anywhere.” Vera started to pull away, but his arm suddenly held her in an iron grip.
“No need to dress for my sake. I’m quite happy with you wearing nothing.” He leaned down, lips pressing lightly against her own, his breath hot against her skin. Already making her forget about the previous conversation. “In fact, perhaps the only breakfast I need is you.”
“How did I not know that would be your answer?” She attempted to pull away again, but he held her tight, arms moving to wrap around her waist so that he could lift her off her feet.
“You know me well enough by now, Mrs Leckie.” Another kiss burned against her lips as he started to move, navigating them both back into their room with the ease of a man that had done the very same before. Any attempt from her to break free was only met with more kisses, now moving down her neck and along her collarbones, keeping her focus solely on him. Allowing her only the option of melting into his touch and surrendering to what she knew was coming, and what they both craved. Breakfast was long forgotten only seconds later, as was the letter now crumpled up on the floor of their bedroom.
-
The letters soon became a regular occurrence in their household. They would be hidden behind tins in the pantry, tucked under a book in the living room or left on the kitchen table in the morning. Vera would almost come to expect them, always taking an extra look in a previous hiding place if a letter had not appeared in a while. But she never asked, never sneaked a look at Bob’s latest project left on his desk or tried to breach the subject. She had long since learned that he valued his privacy as highly as his work, and it was rare she was ever allowed even a glance at anything unless it was specifically addressed to her.
Sometimes, bearing Bob’s story on her own was hard. It would gnaw at her, keep her awake at night when Bob wasn’t in the bed next to her, or leave her thoughtless and nervous when she didn’t know how to react to something he had recently told her about. The letters varied largely in content, and she never knew what the next would include. Sometimes it was simple, amusing excerpts from bootcamp, time spent resting in Australia, or a playful raid on an Army camp. Other times, it was stories of death, destruction and unspeakable acts that would haunt her dreams.
Despite his lack of words, she knew his experiences haunted him. There would be nights where he never came to bed, nights where he would rise before dawn, and others where she would have to coax him awake from nightmares that left him a sobbing wreck. There would always be a letter waiting for her somewhere after those nights, tucked away in the laundry hamper or leaned against her toothbrush in the bathroom. Hiding in places where he knew she would easily find them.
It was after one such night that a letter appeared that caused her to make a decision.
Dear Vera,
By the time we reached the island of Peleliu, I was tired. Any thought of home was a curse, and we were all convinced we would never see American shores again. All we had ahead were more islands. Islands riddled with men we all hated without knowing them, the same way they hated us with a furious rage.
I wish I could say that hatred disappeared with the war. That it faded away and was replaced with pity when I heard of the bombs dropped on the Japanese mainland. That I instead wished nothing but good on those millions of misguided souls who had blindly followed orders just like we had.
But I cannot say that. I cannot say that the hatred ever left, and I am terrified it never will. When I close my eyes, I see them there. I see the men I killed with my own bullets, with my own hands, and I am glad they are dead. They keep coming, but they always die, and I am relieved.
The hatred would burn in me like a hot flame back then, and in my dreams, it is still there. Hot, burning, but now I am scared of it. I am scared it will burn me this time and take the life I – we – have built with it. That I will wake up one day and find that you, this house, this life, is no longer there. That I never left Peleliu and that the war never came to an end.
A despicable, hateful man is what I should be described as. A man that still relives the deaths he has caused, and who is relieved he is alive and not dead. That is not emotions that should exist in me, not after what I have done.
You should not have had to marry a man like me, Vera. I am sorry.
Robert
The letter had initially shocked her, just as others had, but it was a shock she was quick to push aside. His words had awakened something in her, and she was suddenly certain of something that she needed to do, for his sake.
Rising from where she had been sat at the kitchen table, she quickly moved to Bob’s study. A room she rarely entered, and where she barely dared to breathe. Bob had never explicitly told her she couldn’t enter, or that he had wished to keep it private, but it was a feeling that had she had had for a long time. That his writing and his work was his and his alone until he invited her to see it.
She was quick, grabbing a pen and some paper together with a well-thumbed address book before she exited again, careful not to disturb any of what was left in messy piles on the desk.
Returning to the kitchen, she had soon found the address she was looking for. A Buffalo address connected to a man that she hoped would be able to help her with the plan that had begun to form in her mind. A plan she was soon outlining in a letter of her own…
Dear Mr. Conley,
My name is Vera Leckie, and I am the wife of your previous comrade from the 1st Marines, Robert Leckie. I dearly hope you remember him, for I am in need of your assistance…
-
It only took a few days before their telephone rang, and a voice she soon identified as Mr. Conley – “It’s Bud, ma’am, everyone calls me Bud” – came from the other end. Eager and enthusiastic, and more than happy to help with what she had in mind. Telling her right away that he had already reached out to two other men that he knew Bob would be happy to meet, and they had all together decided on a date where they would convene at the Leckie residence. All seemingly excited to meet again after all the time that had passed since they had last met.
“I must say, Mrs. Leckie, that I never believed for a second you really existed.” Bud chuckled in her ear, and she raised an eyebrow, ready to throw out a quick response if that would become necessary. “Hell, Lucky wrote letters to you for so long while we were out there, but he never sent any nor got any in return. I thought he’d made ya up to make the rest of us jealous.” There was another chuckle and something Vera recognised as the man taking a drag from a cigarette. “To think you were real and he married ya? Unbelievable. Never thought he’d succeed with somethin’ like that.”
“Now then, Mr. Con- Bud – no need for that. I can assure you I am quite real. In fact, any more words like those and I will make sure you feel it.” She could not help a laugh of her own. “But I thank you, in a strange way I also feel flattered.”
The conversation – although brief and interrupted by Bob returning home – left her with a warm feeling in her chest, and a smile that would not leave her lips for the rest of the night. Bob questioned it; eyebrows raised at her as she happily hummed her way through making dinner – a chore she otherwise did not always enjoy – but she kept quiet. Claiming instead that she had something exciting planned with a friend, and then refusing to answer any further questions.
-
The next letter that appeared was, for once, not written by Bob but for him. This time, it came through the mail, with the sender being a Buffalo address she already knew. Vera tried not to smile as she delivered it, handing it to him where he sat in the living room with a book, already knowing its contents.
“What’s this?” A frown creased Bob’s brow as he turned the letter over, looking to her for answers that she refused to give.
“I don’t know. Why don’t you open it?” She smiled, quickly returning to the laundry she had been folding before the doorbell had rung.
Bob huffed, muttering something inaudible under his breath as he tore the envelope open. His usually impeccable letter-opening suddenly thrown to the wind as he instead tore through it like a hot knife through butter.
She tried to keep focused on her own, but her eyes still stayed trained on his face as he read, frown deepening the further he got. His eyes scanning the page time and time again as if he was not believing the words scribbled on the page before him.
“Vera.” His voice was shaking as he spoke next. Eyes staying on the letter for a moment before they rose to meet hers. “I’m sorry. “
“What do you mean?” She frowned, the towel in her hands coming to a rest on her lap. “What are you sorry for, Bob?”
“It seems… some of the men I knew during the war will be in town next week. They wish to see me.” Bob’s voice was low, apologetic as he spoke, almost as if he expected anger from her.
“And so?” She urged him on, allowing a gentle smile to rise to her lips as she held his gaze. “Is there a problem?”
“No…” He hesitated again. “But they would come here. To the house” He gestured around the room, hand noticeably shaking before he hid it in his hair. Fingers clutching at his curls as if they were a lifeline. “I know it may cause you trouble…”
Vera was quick to interrupt him, shaking her head as she hastily moved over to him. A hand gently coming to rest on his thigh to help him focus. On her, on them, on that moment.
“It’s not any trouble, Bob. You know that.” She quieted the complaint rising to his lips with a gentle hush and a shake of her head. “I think them coming will do you good. Do us good.” She was careful with her words as she spoke, knowing she was treading new ground that she had not attempted to tread since their honeymoon.
Bob was quiet for a moment, hands falling to rest on his lap with the letter as he dragged a deep breath into his lungs. And then another, eyes rising to her own as he nodded.
“You’re right.” He nodded again, seeming more comfortable with the idea by the second. “You’re right, Vera. It will do usgood.” Reaching out, he rested a hand on the gentle curve of her stomach. A smile rising to his lips as he felt the baby move under his fingers. Greeting its father as if able to understand the man needed the comfort.
-
The day of the visit came quickly, and by each day that passed, Bob got more nervous and agitated. His sleep was broken, his letters frequent and his intake of coffee leaning towards unhealthy. The letters told her of returning memories and guilt, of his uncertainty surrounding his relationship with his old friends, and how he was terrified of his reaction to the man he now was. Fears that she knew were most certainty not true, but that she knew he had all reason to feel.
At first, he had been adamant she should participate in the visit. That she would be there next to him and help him steer the conversation, but she was soon able to convince him of the faults in that idea. She did not know the men that were to come – except for her brief call with Bud Conley that Bob did not know about – and she did not want to impose or disturb. Bob’s relationship with his friends was one that she knew would be different from the one he had with her. They had experienced things together that she could only imagine herself, and that she would not be able to understand in the same way they did.
The men arrived all together, coming down the street in a beaten pick-up truck driven by a blond man that would introduce himself as Bill. There were three of them, with Bud being the shortest – built like a sprinter but with an air of someone who had seen many a fistfight. Bill barely smiled, keeping a stern look on his face that didn’t crack while Vera was anywhere close. The third, Lew, was tall, with curls that almost matched Bob’s. He was stockier, and his eyes constantly carried a mischievous glint.
The three were not at all how she had imagined them when she had first read their names in Bob’s letters, but at the same time she did not know if she had imagined them at all. She tried to remember as she prepared coffee for the four men in the kitchen, trying her best not to listen in on the conversation going on in the next room. It was not for her ears, and she knew as much as she entered with the coffee tray. A smile, ever so faint, had been on Bill’s lips as she pushed the door open, genuine and bright, but quick to recede the second she came into view. Showing her that his otherwise stern and sour appearance was one he did not keep up around those he genuinely cared about.
Vera retreated quickly again after setting the tray down on the coffee table, wishing the four a nice time before closing the door behind her. Dragging a deep breath into her lungs as she instead made her way into the bedroom, resigning herself to a calm afternoon with her book in bed. The baby growing inside her was already getting heavy, and she knew Bob would be happy if she took a rest for once.
-
She was not sure what the time was when she woke again, blinking tiredly as she tried to make her eyes adjust to the dim light of the bedroom. Groaning as she shifted from her uncomfortable position, realising that what had woken her was the door closing and a car engine starting outside. Telling her that Bob’s friends had left and that she had fallen asleep without meaning to do so.
“Vera?” Bob’s voice rung out from the hallway, his footsteps closing in as he moved through the house.
“In here!” Her voice was hoarse from sleep, body refusing to move as she tried to shift her weight to get out of bed. Suddenly realising she had not prepared them any dinner for the night, and with a glance at the clock on Bob’s nightstand realising dinnertime had long since come and gone.
“Is everything okay? You were so quiet.” Bob appeared in the doorway, light flooding in from the hallway as he pushed the door open and stepped inside. A smile appearing on his lips as he moved across the room and seated himself on the bed next to her.
“I must have fallen asleep. I hope your friends did not think me rude for not preparing them any dinner.” She shook her head as she shot him a sheepish smile. “I hope you apologised on my behalf.”
“I did no such thing. They were so glad you arranged for us to meet.” He shot her a knowing smile as he leaned forward to kiss her forehead. A hand gently rubbing over her stomach. “Thank you, darling.” His voice was no more than a whisper, but still full of emotion. Telling her that Bud had told of her plan, and that Bob did not dislike her for arranging the visit.
“They told you?” She met his gaze, already knowing the answer.
“They did. But not before I guessed it on my own. I knew you had a part to play in all this.” Shifting, he carefully moved over her to sit beside her, allowing her to lean against him as he gently ran his fingers through her hair. Lips planting light kisses on her forehead and temple to help her relax. Keeping her there to make sure she understood he was not about to let her leave.
“I take it that I am not very good at keeping secrets then?” Vera let out a light laugh.
“Not really.” Bob laughed too as he pulled her closer. Arms wrapping tightly around her and making her feel safe. “But perhaps I also knew it was about time you tried something like this. I know my letters have not been… good.” He dragged a breath into his lungs, eyes falling as she turned to look at him. “I am sorry for putting you through that, Vera.”
“No. You have no reason to be sorry, Bob Leckie.” She shook her head, a hand rising to cup his cheek. “That was your way of processing everything you experienced. You wanted me to know, but you were not ready to talk.” She shot him a smile. “I understand. The war was not just a story to you. It was real. I can only ever try to understand everything you experienced, but I will try my best. I promise.”
“I know.” He returned her smile as his eyes rose to her once more. “And that is why I love you, Vera Leckie.”
“I love you too, Bob Leckie. No matter what.”