Changing Habits by Debbie Macomber Read Free Book Online

secret.
    â€œYou’re stealing my little girl away from God,” her father said.
    â€œDaddy,” Joanna protested, furious that her family would take such delight in teasing her.
    â€œCut it out, you two.” Her mother stepped in to rescue her. “Joanna considered the convent when she was a high school freshman. That’s all there is to it.”
    â€œWell, God can’t have her,” Greg said, throwing his arm around her. He kissed the top of her head. “I’ve got her now.”
    Rick took another loud bite of his apple. “When’s the wedding?”
    Greg and Joanna exchanged glances, and then burst out laughing because they didn’t know. Soon, they decided. Greg would serve his year in Vietnam and when he returned, they’d get married. While he was off at war, Joanna would make all the wedding arrangements.
    Eventually the date was set for September of the following year. That gave Joanna and her mother a little more than fourteen months to plan.
    Two days later, Greg left for Vietnam. Joanna rode with him to the airport, where—along with his mother and father—she tearfully saw him off. As the jet zoomed into the sky, she felt a sensation of dread and wondered if this would be the last time she saw Greg.
    A week following his departure for Asia, Joanna enteredthe hospital nursing program. Within a matter of days, her world revolved around her studies, writing Greg and all the planning that went into a big wedding.
    â€œI don’t know what I’d do if I didn’t have the wedding to distract me,” she wrote Greg early in December as her hi-fi belted out “I Can’t Get No Satisfaction” by the Rolling Stones. “If I wasn’t busy thinking about the wedding, I’d be worrying about you. Now, honey, please take care of yourself. I love you so much.”
    Greg’s letters were full of details about his assignment and his life in Saigon, where he was stationed. He spoke of the squalor and the effects of the war on the people of the Southeast Asian country. He mailed her small things he found in the local shops—a bracelet, silk pajamas, an ivory-handled mirror. He was fortunate not to be in a combat situation; instead, he’d been assigned to desk duty with the Military Police and typed up volumes of paperwork whenever a soldier was sent to the stockade. One bonus to this assignment was that he had plenty of time to write. In the beginning, he mailed a long letter nearly every day.
    January 3, 1966
    Sweetheart,
    Thanks for sending me the fabric swatches for the bridesmaids’ dresses. You sure you want five bridesmaids? Never mind, you can have ten if it makes you happy. I like the green one best, but you decide. I’ll come up with five ushers, but I’ll probably need to ask a cousin or two.
    It was hard not being home for Christmas. I hope you like your gift. A set of bone china isn’t as romantic as I would’ve liked, but that was what you said you wanted. I hope you like the pattern I picked out. Justthink—one day you’ll be my wife and you’ll cook me dinner and serve it to me on those very plates.
    Write soon. I live for your letters.
    Greg
    Joanna lived for his letters, too. Each day she hurried home from school and sorted through the mail, suffering keen disappointment if there wasn’t one.
    â€œI don’t think there’s a letter from Greg,” her mother said. It was a cold February afternoon, and Joanna, still wearing her coat, flipped through a stack of envelopes on the kitchen table.
    â€œI haven’t heard from him in three days.”
    â€œI’m sure he’s fine.”
    â€œI’m sure he is, too,” Joanna said, but she wondered and worried all the same.
    That evening her best friend phoned. “We’re going to see My Fair Lady. Why don’t you come along?”
    Joanna was tempted, really tempted. She enjoyed musicals and it would be