"War Tore Them Apart, Can Love Bring Them Back Together?"
Reviewed by Beth Swanson
Posted November 18, 2007
Romance | Contemporary
Dinah has always wanted to be a chef. So when Will O'Keefe
comes to pick her up for their first date with a Christmas
present in hand, she's astonished that his present is one
that encourages her dream, as no one in her family ever
has. And so the tradition begins. No matter where they
are, near or far, they exchange Christmas presents every
year. As 1968 passes with the world in turmoil, Will and Dinah
grow closer together. Their relationship grows stronger
and their bond seems to be impenetrable. It's not until
Will finds out he's being drafted to go to Vietnam that
their love is faced with the very turmoil that has always
seemed a world away. When tragedy strikes in Vietnam and sends Will home just a
few weeks earlier than scheduled, Dinah discovers that the
man returning is not the same boy she kissed goodbye nearly
a year earlier. Will knows that things will never be the
same, yet he tries his hardest to make things easier for
his family and Dinah. However, it's not long until he
realizes that he can't keep up the charade. He's not the
same person that left her and he doesn't think he ever will
be again. So they go their separate ways; Dinah to culinary school,
and Will to Colorado to build houses. As time passes and
relationships fail, they both realize that splitting up was
a mistake and they find their way back to each other. Years pass and they get married; life is perfect and the
only thing missing is the patter of little feet. After
trying for a long time, little Conner arrives and their
world is more full than they ever could have imagined.
Then beautiful little Paige arrives, and finally a
wonderful and unexpected Logan to complete their family. Life has blessed them in ways they never imagined and
couldn't be more grateful for, but when tragedy strikes
again, no one is left untouched. Life seems to stop and
for reasons no one but Will could understand, he pulls away
yet again, this time leaving his family behind. It's not
until several years later that they discover that the very
tragedy that tore them apart could bring them back together
one last time. While I don't personally agree with Ms. Johnson's politics
or the way she attempted to tie the Vietnam War to the
current war, Will and Dinah's story is a well written and
moving one. As I read CHRISTMAS PRESENTS AND PAST, I could
definitely imagine the emotions of Dinah and Will as they
deal with not only his past, but also with the tragedy that
takes a huge part of their life away. On a whole, I'd say
that this is a wonderful story that the reader will find
themselves laughing and maybe even crying with a bit. I
know I did.
SUMMARY
Every Christmas gift Will and Dinah exchange is a symbol
of their love. The tradition begins on their very first
date in 1968, when Will arrives with an exquisitely
wrapped present that shows he, unlike everyone else in her
life, believes in her dream of becoming a chef. It
continues through every holiday season after that—whether
they're together or apart. But the tradition ends when
tragedy strikes. After that, only an unexpected gift can
make things right.
Excerpt1968The cough and choke of Will O'Keefe's 1952 Chevy brought
Dinah racing to the front window. This was the second time
he'd picked her up, but their first real date. The other
time they'd been going to that jam session at Miguel's and
Will had just been a ride—although it hadn't turned out
that way, since they'd stuck together the whole night as if
it was a given. By the time she peeked around the drape, he'd slammed the
car door and started up her steep driveway. That's when
dismay punched her in the chest. In his hands was a gaily
wrapped Christmas present with a bright red bow atop. It
had to be for her! But they'd only met two weeks before, at Terri's party.
They'd talked there for hours, and then again at Miguel's.
But that didn't really count, did it? They weren't going
together or anything, so why had he bought her a Christmas
present? Her mind raced. Had she bought anything for her brother or
father that she could pretend was for Will? But neither
present was right. The album she was giving Stephen maybe,
but she had no idea whether Will liked Country Joe and the
Fish, and anyway… She didn't have enough money left to buy
Stephen something else before Christmas! If only she'd
thought to bake cookies, or make fudge, and had some saved
for him. Since it was almost Christmas. The doorbell rang. She was out of time. Dinah took a deep breath and opened the door. "Hi," she
said brightly, then looked at the gift as if she hadn't
already seen it. "Oh, no! I didn't get you anything." "Why would you? We just met." He offered her the smile that
had made her heart skip a beat when Terri introduced them.
It was genuine, even sweet, not marred by pretence or self-
consciousness. Will O'Keefe wasn't exactly handsome. He was only a few
inches taller than her five foot seven, maybe five-ten. He
was actually pretty skinny, although he had big hands and
feet that gave him a puppy-dog look. And his face was,
well, the kind her eye skipped over in a crowd. Just
ordinary. It was definitely the smile that had gotten to her. The
smile, and his eyes, an amazing shade of blue, all the more
unusual with his dark hair. "Then why…" she asked, gesturing at the gift in his hand. "Why?" He looked down. "Oh. I got stuck with my Mom the
other day while she was Christmas shopping. And I saw this,
and thought of you." He thrust the package at her as if to
get rid of it. "It's no big deal. It was probably a dumb
idea. I just thought…" His shoulders moved in an awkward
shrug. She glanced at the Christmas tree near the front window and
the gifts piled beneath it. "Should I save it? Or, um, open
it now?" "Now," he said. "Since I'm here. Unless you want to save
it." "No. Now's fine. Do you want to sit down?" "Sure." He shut the front door behind him and chose a place
on the Danish modern sofa with the olive-green upholstery
fabric that made Dinah's legs itch if she was wearing
shorts. She perched at the other end of the sofa, turned to half
face him, glad no one else was home. Her mother would have
raised her eyebrows at some boy she'd never met buying her
daughter a present, her dad would have nodded in approval
because Will's hair was short and Stephen would have given
her a hard time about going out with a guy who looked so
square. He wouldn't believe her when she said Will wasn't,
that he'd cut his hair so he could be on the wrestling team
at his high school. According to Will, his coach was like
this Nazi, who practically measured every strand of hair to
make sure his wrestlers looked like these perfect, all-
American boys. Dinah hesitated. Will smiled encouragement and she tore the
paper to find a plain box inside. He looked nervous, she
saw out of the corner of her eye. He really wanted her to
like whatever he'd bought. She opened the box and stared in
puzzlement at folded white canvas, like that of a sail. "I had to wad it up to get it in," he apologized. Dinah
lifted it out, then breathed, "Ohh," as she saw what he'd
bought because it made him think of her. An apron. A chef's apron. A real one, the kind
professionals wore, extra wide so it would wrap around her
and long enough to reach her knees. "When I picked you up Saturday you were wearing that little
flowery apron." Will gestured at his front. "And after
you'd told me how much you love to cook, and how you'd like
to be a chef or caterer, I thought you should look like one
instead of wearing your mom's apron." Her eyes filled with tears. "You believed me." "Why wouldn't I?" "My parents don't. They want me to go to college, not
culinary school." She hugged the apron to herself and
sniffed. "Thank you. I love it." "Really?" With hopeful eyes, he looked more than ever like
a puppy. "Really." She scooted across the sofa and kissed his cheek. Because he was a guy, he turned his head and found her
mouth with his. Not for the first time. He'd kissed her
Saturday night, before he dropped her off just in time for
her 1:00 a.m. weekend curfew. But that kiss was like any
first one, with Dinah, at least, worrying about what he'd
think if she touched her tongue to his, or if she wrapped
her arm around his neck or shifted more to face him. It was
funny, because Dinah had spent all evening—while they sat
side by side on the floor in the hall at Miguel's—thinking
about how much she wanted him to kiss her. And she'd looked
at his hands, splayed on his thighs, and wondered how they
would feel touching her. But when he did bend his head to
kiss her… Well, she'd had the panicky feeling that it was
coming too soon. She wanted to keep wondering. She knew she
was going to be really disappointed if he grabbed her
breasts and reached for her zipper while mumbling in her
ear, like Toby had when she let him kiss her at a party,
that "sex is natural, man." When she'd pulled away from
Toby, he'd asked her with genuine puzzlement, "Why are you
so hung up?" Maybe she was, but she didn't want some guy
pushing inside her when she hardly even knew him. And she
hated the idea that Will might be like that, just assuming.
But he hadn't assumed anything. That first kiss had been so
self-conscious and brief, she'd worried instead that he was
turned off and didn't care if he touched her breasts or not. But now he'd bought her a Christmas present that told her
he'd listened to her and that he liked her. And he was
kissing her again, and this time wasn't nearly as awkward.
Their shoulders brushed, and their thighs, but otherwise
their mouths were the only connection. The kiss went from
gentle to passionate and back again, and by the time he
moved his face back an inch or two and they smiled
foolishly at each other, Dinah felt incandescent, as if a
candle had been lit within her and the light glowed through
the translucent layers of her body. Just like that, she was ready to give up her virginity. She
was the last holdout of all her friends. In fact, she might
be the last virgin in the junior class at Half Moon Bay
High School. Or maybe at the whole high school. She did
have hang-ups. But finally, she knew what they were. She'd
been waiting. Not for the right time, but for the right guy. "Hey," Will said. "We'd better get going. We'll be late for
the movie." It took her a moment to remember what their plans for the
evening had been. "Oh. Right. This was such a cool present.
Thanks." She kissed his cheek again, then jumped up, took
the apron to her bedroom and grabbed her purse. She paused
to brush her hair again, checking herself out in the full-
length mirror on the back of her door. She wore men's shrink-to-fit Levi's, a Mexican peasant
shirt embroidered down the front, sandals and big gold
hoops in her ears. Her strawberry-blond hair hung straight
and smooth from a center part, reaching to the middle of
her back. She looked hip enough not to stand out in the
Haight-Ashbury, except she was cleaner than she would be if
she was sharing an apartment with ten other people. Dinah
had gone to places like that with friends and seen how one
big group lived on practically nothing but still somehow
had hashish to fill a bong. It seemed like they were
passing one around anytime several of them were home,
sitting cross-legged in the living room on the mattresses
that substituted for furniture. The bedding was always
disheveled and grungy. She'd felt uncomfortable and passed
the bong on without doing more than pretending to take a
draw. She didn't actually like being stoned. And, despite
being antiwar and in favor of loving everyone, some part of
her was too materialistic to want to live that way. No, too
establishment. If she ever had a boyfriend she really
loved, she wouldn't share him. And she hated being dirty.
So maybe she was a pretender, a traitor to her generation. But Will seemed to like her, didn't he? He straddled two
worlds, too. He told her he'd also gone to antiwar
demonstrations, and they'd seen some of the same concerts
at the Fillmore Auditorium and Winterland. Only, he was a
really good student, and he cared enough about making state
in wrestling to cut his hair. They saw the movie Bullitt, a police drama with Steve
McQueen that was really good. Afterward, they stopped for a
burger and fries, and talked about the movie and eventually
the war and their parents. Will wouldn't be graduating in
June with his class; he'd gotten meningitis when he was a
freshman and had been really sick, so he was enough credits
short he had to go half-time first semester the next year. "What a drag!" She couldn't imagine having to go back after
all your friends had tossed their graduation caps in the
air and were gone to college and jobs. "Yeah," Will said, sounding gloomy, "but the thing is, I
don't know what I'm going to do after graduation anyway. I
guess I'll apply at San Francisco State," he said, swirling
ketchup on his plate with a French fry. "Or I could go to Skyline." He was from Pacifica, which was close to Skyline Junior
College, so he could easily live at home and take classes
there. Dinah lived in El Granada, half an hour farther
south along the ocean from San Francisco. If she were going
into the city, she'd drive right through Pacifica. "You don't sound like that's what you want to do," she
said, resting her elbows on the table. "You can tell, huh? The thing is, I like to build." His
face lit with enthusiasm. "I thought about going for a
degree in architecture, but I'm not very good at art. I can
see what I want to do with wood, but I can't put it down on
paper. Anyway, design, that's not the same thing as
actually building something with your own hands." Dinah nodded. She knew exactly what he meant. She did enjoy
creating new dishes, but mostly what she loved was the act
of cooking. Reading a cookbook wasn't the same as
appreciating the textures of everything from flour, which
was puffy and lighter than air, to ginger root, which could
be tough, filled with threads and yet bursting with moist
sweetness. She found satisfaction in perfecting the
techniques to draw out the most flavor, the precision of
measurements, the exhilaration when a flash of creativity
proved to be genius instead of a gigantic, mouth-puckering
mistake and, in the end, from the beauty of the food
arranged on the plate. She liked to touch, to mold, to roll
out pastry, to chop and stir. Will just liked doing the
same things with wood and tile and drywall. "My parents keep telling me I'm too smart to be a
carpenter," he continued, his expression brooding. "And
then there's the draft." "But you don't have to worry yet, do you?" He grimaced. "I'll be nineteen in August. I started
kindergarten a year late." "Oh." The realization stole Dinah's breath. A couple of
boys who'd gone to her high school had died in Vietnam.
She'd known one. Not well, but enough to be shocked when
she heard. Donald had played football, and a girl who'd
been in Dinah's geometry class had gone to the prom with
him. He was drafted, sent overseas and killed six weeks
later. Dinah was already worrying about her brother. "It's
awful!" she burst out. "What would you be fighting for,
anyway?" "That's why they have to hold a draft. No one wants to
enlist anymore." The awful thing with the draft was its unpredictability.
How did young men plan their future when they could get
drafted anytime? A student deferment was about the only
protection, and that was temporary. Everybody knew now how
awful it was in Vietnam. Every night, the news was filled
with gruesome images. The Tet Offensive had been heavily
covered by reporters and cameramen. Supposedly Nixon, just
elected, had a plan for ending the war, but nobody under
thirty believed that. And now Martin Luther King, Jr. and
Bobby Kennedy had both been assassinated, silencing their
voices. Dinah sometimes felt as if there was no hope. Now, feeling desperate, Dinah said, "But if you go to
college, you'll be safe." Will pushed his plate aside. "Now you sound like my mother." It went against the grain, but Dinah stuck to her
guns. "Maybe she's right. If you get drafted, you could
die. For something you don't even believe in." "Yeah, but what if the war goes on and on? Being stuck in
college…" His face showed his struggle to find the right
words. "It would be like treading water. I wouldn't be
going anywhere!" "At least you'd be alive," she said passionately. "I might not get a low draft number." "But what if you do?" "I don't know!" he almost shouted. Dinah bit her lip. "I'm sorry. I guess I do sound like your
parents. It's just because the idea scares me." He reached across the table and took her hand. "I know. It
scares me, too. But it makes me mad that I should have to
spend years more in school because of Nixon, even though
it's a waste of time for me." She nodded. It didn't make sense. There must be tens of
thousands of guys taking college classes they didn't even
care about, just to keep from having to go to Vietnam. And
that was horribly unfair to the ones who couldn't get into
college and win a deferment. "None of it's fair," she said. He squeezed her hand. "Let's not worry about it right now.
I don't even have to apply to college until fall. That's a
long time away. The war might be over by then." She nodded. "If Nixon starts withdrawing troops, the way
he's talked about, they might not need to keep on with the
draft anyway." "Right. So let's forget it." Will grinned at her. "You want
to split a hot-fudge sundae?" While they were eating it, laughing when their heads bumped
as they dueled with plastic spoons for luscious drips of
chocolate, Dinah thought of all the things her mother was
afraid she did whenever she was out at night. Mom lay awake
worrying that she was smoking pot, at least, if not
dropping acid or having wild sex. Here she was instead,
eating a hot-fudge sundae with a boy who hadn't even had a
drink. How innocent could it get?
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