Page 17 of Love Story
“Me, either.” Ashley stared at John. “Or maybe I knew. But I didn’t realize you were so young.”
“So...” Cole checked the notebook. “You were just twelve and both your parents were gone?”
“Yes.” John could still feel the isolation of being an orphan. He had no aunts or uncles, no one to take him in. He leaned over his knees and folded his hands. “There was this one family, they lived across the street. Their kids were younger than me, but when the parents heard I was about to be a ward of the state, they stepped up and became my guardians.”
“Wow.” Again Cole was writing as quickly as he could. “What were their names?”
“Wesley. Jeff and Joan Wesley. Their boys were Bill and Steve.”
Again Ashley sounded surprised. “The state just let them take you? With no home study from social services?”
“Things were different then.” John nodded. “They were great people. Really. They became my family. And they were Christians. I’d never really heard much about God before that.”
“You didn’t believe in Him?” Cole looked shocked.
“My parents didn’t believe. I’d never been to church.” John shrugged. “But even after I moved in with the Wesleys, I didn’t believe. I went to church with them, but I couldn’t get past the obvious.”
“If God was real, why did He take your parents?” Ashley sounded sad. “That’s awful.”
John nodded. “So that was me. Living with this family I had come to love, not a believer, and determined to get my medical degree. It felt like a way to make my life matter. Becoming a doctor.”
“Hmmm. That’s exactly the sort of context I need.” It took Cole a minute to catch up with his note-taking. “What about Grandma?”
“She was younger.” John lifted his gaze to the window, to the blue sky beyond. “Only nineteen.” He hesitated. This next part was sad, too. “Your grandma’s parents were very strict. They wouldn’t let her date or dance or listen to popular music. And she certainly couldn’t spend time with boys. Not at all. Those were their rules and nothing could change their minds.”
“So did Grandma believe in God?” Cole looked up from his notes.
The boy’s question was a good one. “Not really.”
“What!” Ashley straightened in her seat. “Are you serious? I never knew that!”
“It’s true.” This was only the beginning of what Ashley didn’t know. “Your mother went through the motions. But her parents had made faith so unattractive that Christianity was just a religion to her. A system.” He paused. “Not a relationship with God, the way Jesus describes it in Scripture. Like it’s supposed to be.”
“Wow... so sad.” Cole looked at his list of questions. “Okay, then... how did you and Grandma meet?”
How did we meet?John’s heart skipped a beat. He could see the dance hall and hear the music. The dusty smell off the old wood-planked floor filled his senses again. He reached for the picture on the top of the stack. For a few seconds he stared at it. Then he looked at Cole. “It was the fall of 1974. I was a second-year medical student at the University of Michigan.”
Cole looked up. “U of M? The Wolverines?” His eyes grew wide. “I didn’t know you went there, Papa.”
“I did.” He felt a sense of satisfaction. This wouldn’t only be a time to relive his past with Elizabeth. These hours would teach Cole more about who his grandparents had been. Details Cole could tell his kids and grandkids one day.
“So that’s why you’re a Michigan football fan.” Cole shook his head. “I guess I should’ve known.”
“I have a number of favorite teams.” John chuckled. “It’d be easy to miss the fact that Michigan is my alma mater. Undergrad and med school.”
“I told you a long time ago, Cole.” Ashley gave Cole a quick smile. “You must’ve been too young to remember.”
“Probably. Anyway...” Cole looked at his notes. “So you were a med student at U of M.”
“Yes.” John glanced at the picture again. “Technically I shouldn’t have been there that night. The dance was for underclassmen. But Bill Wesley asked me to go, so I did.” He laughed again. “Five minutes after I got there, I was ready to leave when your grandmother walked in. Honestly, she was...”
As John spoke, he easily fell into the story. He was no longer sitting in the living room fifty years later. He was back at that dance hall once more, cup of punch in his hand, worn-out suit hanging from his thin frame.
And like that, the decades disappeared and the memory of that night came to life again. The way John had known it would. He didn’t fight it, didn’t work to stay in the here and now. If he was going to go back, then he wanted to relive it. All of it.
He breathed in deep and let the story come.
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