by D. Reed Whittaker
Chapter One
How much more awkward can they make it? Thirty-five strangers forced to spill their guts searching for happiness. Ever hopeful, I looked for my Prince Charming. Not a prospect in sight. What did I expect? The chances of finding anyone remotely suitable at my age are close to nil. I should stay away from singles events like this. Nothing attracts parasites like a rich widow. This room is full of them—each hoping to turn charm into coin. Judging from the dresses and jewels, there may be more than one rich widow here. They were about to start. I headed to my table.
“Pardon me?” he asked, after tapping my shoulder.
I turned. “Yes?”
“Don’t I know you?”
I shook my head. “No, I’ve never seen you before.”
“My mistake. Forgive me.” He walked away.
I recognized those eyes, but where? “Wait.” I called after the retreating figure. Too late. He was gone. The rest of the evening was a blur. I couldn’t get him out of my mind.
* * *
The weeks went by. When I dreamed, my dreams were of him. They were good dreams. The things we did. Laughs we had. The love we shared. I signed up for all the mixers, singles events, and meetups I could find. I joined OKC, POF, Match, eHarmony, and any service or site that might lead me to him. I thought of hiring a private investigator, but what would I tell him? He was tall. Had gray hair, piercing blue eyes, and a nice voice—not much to go on.
Holidays alone are particularly sad. I have a few friends, and no family. Out of despair, I volunteered to serve Thanksgiving dinners for the homeless. I hoped I could bring some measure of joy into someone’s life, maybe my own. I was in charge of the stuffing and mashed potatoes. Sandy did the gravy and rolls. There I stood with a big spoon in each hand. Plopping the too moist stuffing, and the too dry potatoes onto each plate. Didn’t see their faces, only their plates. My heart wasn’t in it. I wasn’t bringing anyone any joy. I shouldn’t be here. Wasn’t good for them. Wasn’t good for me.
The line of sadness dwindled. There was plenty of food left. Sandy and I put together plates of whatever was left. We had enough for nineteen paper plates—little flying saucers of momentary sustenance. We stacked them in my trunk and went in search of anyone who didn’t make it to the shelter. I drove, Sandy would spot. We had given away seventeen plates when Sandy grabbed my arm and pointed. “There, over there. There’s a man and a woman.” I turned toward them. We were almost at the curb when I hit the brake hard. I pulled past them. “What’s wrong?” asked Sandy, pushing back from the dashboard.
“Sorry. Nothing. I’m okay.”
“You sure.”
I nodded, not looking at her. “Yes, I’m sure. You mind handling this yourself?”
“Sure,” she said, jumping out. I popped the trunk. When I looked back, the trunk lid hid the man and woman. When Sandy returned and closed the trunk, they were gone.
* * *
I had to find him. I went back to the shelter and asked. No one knew where to find him. He didn’t stay at the shelter. I went back to the parking lot where I last saw him. The liquor store and barber shop didn’t know him. No one had seen a clean-shaven gray-haired man. A homeless man without a beard, or a three-day growth, is unusual—not unheard of, but unusual. Maybe he wasn’t homeless, but why down here? Sandy talked to him. She must know something. He said he knew me. I’m sure I would’ve remembered. You don’t forget those eyes. I called Sandy. “Yes?”
“Sandy? Vicky. Do you remember Thanksgiving and the couple we gave dinner to?”
“You mean the ones who freaked you out?”
“They didn’t freak me out.”
“The hell they didn’t. Want to tell me about it?”
“There’s nothing to tell.”
“Okay, have it your way. What can I do for you?”
“Thank you. What do you remember about him? About her?”
“Her nothing. Him everything and nothing. Never got beyond the eyes. Same for you?”
“Kind of.”
“You never got out. How do you know him?”
“I don’t. I ran into him at a senior’s speed dating thing a few months back. We only exchanged a few words.”
“He was speed dating? You were speed dating? This is getting interesting.”
“No, it’s not. You have any clue where I might find him?”
“If you don’t, I sure as hell don’t. Never said anything. Just took the plates and nodded. Never said a word.”
“How was he dressed? Did he have a beard?”
“Once he took the plates. I left. Had to get away from those eyes. They looked right through me. No, that’s not right—not through, into.”
I said nothing.
“You’re not laughing. Happened to you too, didn’t it?”
I nodded. “It happened to me.”
“Well, what will you do about it?”
“I’ve run out of ideas. I went to shelter, to the shopping center—”
“Shopping center?”
“Where you gave him the food.”
“Oh.”
“I don’t know where else to look. Who else to ask. Any ideas?”
“Let me think about it. Lunch tomorrow?”
“Might as well, there’s nothing else to do.”
“Well, thank you very much.”
I sighed. “You know what I mean. Paolo’s?”
“Good. Say one o’clock?”
“One o’clock.” We rang off together.
* * *
I was late getting to Paolo’s. Didn’t have a good night—bad dreams. Sandy was waiting for me at the receptionist’s desk. The receptionist found us a quiet table in the back. The lunch crowd was thinning. We ordered wine. “You look like hell,” said Sandy, opening her napkin.
I snorted. “Well, thank you very much.”
She smiled. “You’re welcome. You’ve got it bad.”
“Got what?”
“The love bug. This guy’s really gotten to you.”
I shook my head. “Yes, damnit. He’s gotten to me. This shouldn’t be possible at my age.”
“Why not? You’re still alive, aren’t you? You still feel, don’t you?”
The waiter poured our wine, then left. I straightened my napkin. “I’m sixty, for Christ’s sake.”
She raised her glass. “So what.”
“So, I don’t know this guy. We exchanged all of ten words.”
She grinned. “Do you remember those words?”
I shook my head. “Of course not.”
She smiled. “Bet you do.”
I took a gulp of my wine. “No bet.”
“Thought so. Tell me about him.”
“There’s not much to tell. He was tall, thin, with nice gray hair, and the most beautiful blue eyes you’ve ever seen.”
She nodded. “Yes, I remember the eyes. Anything else?”
“He said he knew me.”
“But you don’t remember him?”
I shrugged. “I don’t. For the life of me, I have no idea where I might have met him. Is there anything you remember?”
She shook her head. “Not really.”
“Close your eyes and see if you can remember anything.”
She closed her eyes, holding her wine glass with both hands. I let her think. She shook her head with her eyes closed. “Sorry, nothing. Remember a little about the girl.”
“Girl? She wasn’t our age?”
She shook her head. “Don’t think so. She seemed young, but I didn’t pay that much attention. Didn’t get past those eyes.”
I closed my eyes and nodded. “He was handsome—the gray hair, the blue eyes, and a nice smile.”
“I remember the smile. Not fair to have those eyes and a nice smile.”
I nodded. “Not fair at all. Should we order?”
Chapter Two
I went back to the shelter. This time I asked the women. Two of them remembered him. Helen remembered the girl. She told him the girl lived under the FM 2086 overpass. I went to the overpass—no girl. She hadn’t been around for some time. Now I had a name—Tracy.
I tried the police, asking if they had any arrest record for a Tracy. They wouldn’t talk to me since I wasn’t related or had an official purpose. They suggested I hire a private detective. I went back to the overpass. Brought a bag of quarter pounders with cheese. Told Helen why I wanted to find Tracy and the man with blue eyes. “Think you know him?” asked Helen.
I nodded. “I’ve seen those eyes before. Can’t get him out of my mind.”
She smiled, finishing her hamburger. She licked her fingertips. “I can guess. Thanks for the grub.” She looked around at her fellow squatters. “We appreciate it.”
“You’re welcome. If Tracy came back, would you call me?”
“Sure you want me to have your phone number?”
I cocked my head. “Any reason I shouldn’t?”
She shrugged. “We’re not the folks you invite to tea.”
I laughed. “Guess you’re not. Would you come if I invited you?”
“Are you?”
I shook my head and smiled. “I don’t like tea.”
She smiled. “Don’t either.”
“Helen, may I ask you a personal question?”
She grinned. “Know what it is. Why am I living here?”
I nodded. “You get asked it a lot?”
“Often enough. Short answer—lost my job, then my home. I’m too old to get another. It’s not that bad.”
“Anything I can do?”
She shook her head. “Don’t like handouts.”
“Wasn’t thinking of a handout. How many of your friends could work if somebody had something for them?”
“You mean punch a clock?”
“I’m not sure what I mean—yet. There has to be something you can do.”
“Hard to get a job when you don’t have a permanent address or access to a phone.”
“If I got you a phone, would you use it?”
“Might make long-distance calls.”
“I’ll chance it. Would the Shelter let you use their address?”
She shrugged. “Think they let folks use it now. Want me to ask?”
“If you wouldn’t mind. What kind of job would you like?”
She shrugged. “Dunno. Was a grocery store clerk. Helped out in the deli. Made sandwiches.”
“Did you like it?”
“Liked talking to the customers. Well, most of them.”
“No promises. Let me talk to someone at the Shelter. There may be programs out there already. Meantime, I’ll get you a phone.”
She cocked her head. “Why?”
“You helped me. Little enough I can do to repay you.”
“How did I help you?”
“You gave me hope. Through you, I may find blue eyes.”
“What’ll happen when you find him?”
I shook my head. “I wished I knew. I wished I knew.”
Chapter Three
I went to the Shelter. While they’d prefer the overpass squatters live at the Shelter, they’d work with me. Told me what kind of phone to buy—one with a limit, and cheap. Theft is a problem at both the Shelter and on the streets. They knew Helen. Would try to put her on an office cleaning crew. Having a phone would make it easier. The City had a program to provide low-cost housing. They’d put Helen on the list. I waited for Helen’s call.
Didn’t have long to wait. Helen called me two days later. Tracy was in a ‘Housing First’ project. Helen didn’t know which one, only she was off the street. It wasn’t too hard to find Tracy. A few phone calls and I had an address. Spent the night anguishing over what to do.
Metro Apartments were not what I expected. It was a fairly large four-story apartment complex you’d find in most areas of the city. Located in a low-density industrial area near the freeway. Makes sense, most residential neighborhoods would resist inclusion. Still, it was well designed and maintained. They wouldn’t let me up. Had to wait for Tracy to come down. Thirty minutes later, she met me at the reception desk. “How may I help you?” she asked.
“May we talk over there?” I asked, pointing to four chairs around a coffee table.
“Sure. Do I know you?” she asked, moving to the cluster of chairs.
I shook my head. “No, I’m trying to find a friend of yours.”
She stopped in the middle of the room and turned to face me. “I won’t rat out my friends.”
“I don’t want you to.” She was about to say something. I held up my hand. “Last Thanksgiving, a friend and I distributed plates of food near the San Felipe Shopping Center. Were you there?”
She nodded.
“There was a man there with you. Do you know his name?”
Her eyes widened, then narrowed. “I may.”
“It’s important to me I talk to him. Could you tell me how to do that?”
“Is he in trouble?”
“Far from it. Well, not from me.”
“Why do you want to talk to him?”
“May we sit down? This is embarrassing.” I pointed to one of the chairs.
She sat with her hands in her lap. “What do you want from me?”
I shook my head. “Helen said you might help me.”
She cocked her head. “Helen Smith? Helen, from the overpass?”
I nodded. “Yes.”
“Why do you want to find my uncle?”
“He’s your uncle?”
She nodded. “So, why?”
“I may have known him from long ago.”
“So?”
“So, I’d like to talk to him to see if he’s who I think he is.”
“Who do you think he is?”
Now I looked at my hands. I told her the story, every embarrassing bit of it. Tracy snickered at parts, but she didn’t interrupt. When finished, she smiled and shook her head. “Jack won’t believe this.”
“Jack?” She nodded. “Won’t believe what?”
“You.”
I smiled. “Probably not. Will you help me find him?”
“He’s not lost.”
“You know what I mean.”
She smiled and nodded. “I do. Just having a little fun.”
“Well?”
“Sure, he’ll get a kick out of it. How do you want to do it?”
I looked around. “Could he meet us here?”
“Spose. When?”
“Today. Later this afternoon?”
“I have group this afternoon.”
“Group?”
“Group therapy. I’m trying to get clean.” She smiled. “Doing pretty good.” She looked around. “Jack got me in here. This is a good place. Good people.”
I followed her gaze and nodded. “It is nice. After Group?”
She shook her head. “Then I have to help with dinner.”
“Can I help?”
She shook her head. “Only residents are allowed after six. Jack might not get here much before that.”
“Would you give him my card, my phone number?”
She grinned, then smiled. “Sure. He may not call you.”
I nodded. “Understand. Who wants to talk to a crazy old woman?”
She laughed. “You’re not crazy, or old. Jack might like you. Sure, I’ll tell him.”
“Thank you. Anything I can do for you?”
“Like what?”
I shrugged. “I dunno. You need anything?”
“Books. Happy books. Books with happy endings. I try not to watch TV and I’ve read everything I can find.”
“I can do that. Favorite authors?”
“Are you rich?”
I shook my head. “No, I’m not rich. What do you need?”
She looked at her hands in her lap. “A Kindle.”
“What model?”
She looked up. “Really?”
“Sure, be happy to. Must I order it, or can I pick up one here in town?”
She shrugged. “Dunno. Never looked into it.” She nodded. “Really?”
“Really. I’ll get you one as soon as I can. What about books?”
She beamed. “I have a library card. I can download whatever they have.”
“Can’t you get books from the library?”
She shook her head. “Too far away. I don’t own a car.”
“Do you have anything tomorrow morning?”
“Why?”
“I could pick you up and take you to the library if I can’t find a Kindle in town.”
“Could you do it, anyway? I’d love to check out a book, any book.”
“What time tomorrow?”
“Let me check with the desk. You may have to sign something or fill out a form. They’re very strict about coming and going and bringing back friends.” She shook her head. “Shouldn’t be a problem with me leaving.” She smiled. “Be good to get out.” She stood and walked to the desk. I followed. We arranged with the desk for me to pick her up at nine tomorrow morning. Gave her my phone number.
Chapter Four
I ordered her a Kindle Voyage. Wouldn’t be here in time for our meeting. Printed the receipt to show her. She doesn’t trust me. No call from Jack. Been racking my brain for anyone named Jack or John. No luck. Wondered about Jack being her uncle. He’s too old, or Tracy’s too young. She looked to be in her mid-twenties, though her life on the street might make her look older than she is. Still too young by thirty years to be the niece of a sixty-year-old man. That didn’t help with my dreams. I need Jack’s armor to shine.
Tracy was waiting for me in the lobby. She cleans up well. Might be a good idea to shop for some clothes. “Good morning, Ms…?” She cocked her head. “You never told me your name.”
“It’s Mrs. Victoria Adams, Vicki to my friends.”
“Mrs.?”
I nodded. “Widow. Should we get you a book?”
She beamed. “Can I get more than one?” She put on her coat and picked up her backpack.
“You can get as many as the library will let you.” I nodded to her backpack. “You should have enough room.”
She smiled and walked past me to the front desk. She signed the sign-out sheet, then turned to me. “How long will we be?”
“My day is yours. How long do you want it to be?”
She turned to the receptionist. “George, is it okay if I put six o’clock for a return time?”
“Any sessions?” he asked.
She shook her head. “Not today. I cleared it with Audrey. She thinks time in the city would be good for me.”
He smiled. “It will. If it looks like you’ll be late—call. I’ll put a note on the sheet. Have fun.”
“Thanks George, you’re a peach.” She grabbed my arm. “Should we go?” She waved as she pulled me to the door.
* * *
We spent three hours in the library. Tracy checked out six big books. There was room for only four in her backpack. All had to do with nursing and medicine. They looked like textbooks. I took her to lunch. She wanted a Whopper. Was easy enough to find one. We sat at a booth in the back. She wolfed it down. “Would you like another?” I asked, laughing.
She blushed. “I’ve missed my Whoppers. My favorite thing. Sorry to be such a pig.”
“Hardly.” I gave her a ten-dollar bill. “Go get another.” She did, and a chocolate shake. She handed me the change. “Keep it.”
“Thanks, I’ll pay you back.”
“You already have. I’ve enjoyed this time. You owe me nothing.”
“I owe you Jack’s phone number.”
I shook my head. “Don’t want his phone number. I want him to call me. He may not be the man I’m looking for.”
“How will he know it’s you?”
“I told you about the speed dating, didn’t I?” She nodded, smiling. I blushed. “If he was there, then have him call me. If he wasn’t, don’t.”
“Doesn’t sound like Uncle Jack.” She shook her head. “Don’t see him doing speed dating.”
“Why not?”
“Same reason I don’t see you doing it.”
“And why’s that?”
“Too classy,” she said, draining the malt with a slurp. She laughed. “So much for class.”
I laughed. “Thank you.”
“Thank you. I really appreciate this.” She looked around. “It’s boring sitting in my room all the time.”
“I can imagine.”
“Can you?”
I nodded. “Did a fair amount of that after Frank died.”
“Frank, your husband?” she asked.
I nodded.
“Well, thanks for this,” she held up the half-eaten hamburger, “my Kindle and the library. You didn’t have to.”
I shook my head. “Have to—no. Want to—yes. It’s been good for me, too. So, I thank you.” I nodded.
She smiled. She has a nice smile. “You’re welcome. Could we drive around for a bit before you take me back?”
I nodded. “We can. I have a hair appointment in an hour.” I looked at my watch. “If you’d like to come along, she may fit you in.”
She laughed. “That bad?”
I nodded. “What do you say?”
“You already made the appointment, didn’t you?”
“That obvious?”
She nodded. “That obvious. Why are you being so nice to me? Jack may not be the man you’re looking for.”
“He might not, but I’d like us to be friends. I’d like to help you.”
“Help me how?”
I shook my head. “I don’t know. However, you want me to. Maybe a haircut now and then, or a Whopper. Whatever you want.”
“Why?”
I shrugged. “Don’t know exactly. I like you. You’re good company. If I can help, I want to.”
She stared at me. “Let me think about it.” She collected the debris of our lunch. “Shall we go get beautiful?”
“Not enough time for that,” I said, sliding from the booth.
“For whom, you or me?”
I laughed. “Me, of course. It won’t take much to make you beautiful.”
She took the tray to the trash receptacle, then turned to face me. “Thanks for not asking.”
“Asking what?”
“Asking why I was sleeping under the overpass.”
I shook my head. “None of my business.”
She nodded. “Still, thanks.”
* * *
They gave her the full treatment—mani, pedi, cut, and color. She drew the line at a massage. We spent the rest of the afternoon shopping. Mostly basics and essentials—panties, bras, socks, pants, blouses, and a few earrings. She wouldn’t let me buy her any dresses or nice shoes. She kept all the receipts.
It was after six when we got back to the Metro Apartments. She couldn’t invite me in, so she said goodbye from the front seat. I watched her walk to the front door. After pressing the buzzer, she turned and waved, then went in. We’d made no plans to get together. I bought her a phone like Helen’s. I hoped she’d call. Still don’t know how she ended up under the overpass, or if Jack is her uncle, or if he’s the man of my dreams.
Chapter Five
There was nothing to do except wait for the phone to ring. Last night was filled with pleasant dreams. I was getting in my car when my phone rang. “Yes?”
“Hi, Vicki. This is Tracy. Am I interrupting anything?”
“Not at all. I was going shopping.”
“Is that all rich widows do?”
“I’m not rich. And no, I do other things.”
“Just messing with you. I talked to Jack.”
“And?”
“And he asked me to ask you about Monte Vista.”
“Monte Vista? What about Monte Vista?”
“No idea. That’s all he said. Mean anything to you?”
I thought for a moment. “I went to a Monte Vista school. Is that what he meant?”
“Great! There is a connection. I was hoping Jack was your man.”
“We don’t know he is. I can’t connect a Jack or John to my time at Monte Vista.”
“Don’t be so negative. It’ll come. What are you shopping for? Want company?”
“You want to come shopping with me?”
Tracy laughed. “Might be fun, but I can’t. I have group this afternoon.”
“Okay, if I get you some dresses and you select what you like. I can come by after group.”
“I’d rather we do it together. Would you extend your offer by a day? We could go shopping tomorrow.”
“I’d like that. It’d give us a chance to get better acquainted.”
“You’re curious, aren’t you?”
“About what?”
“Me and Jack.”
“I confess. It can wait until you want to tell me.”
“What if I don’t want to tell you?”
“Then you won’t. I won’t ask you.”
“Promise?”
“I promise.”
“I’ll hold you to that. Thanks.”
“What for?”
“For respecting my privacy. You and Jack should get along just fine.”
“I hope so. Any chance you can tell me his last name?”
She laughed. “He asked me not to. Just so you know, we don’t have the same last name.”
“I thought so. I don’t remember a John Samson.”
“Samson?”
“I peeked at the sign-out sheet.”
She laughed. “You are sneaky.”
“You blame me?”
“Been disappointed if you hadn’t. You run a background check on me?”
“I’m not that sneaky. I’d rather you told me.”
“I will. Tomorrow? Pick me up at nine?”
“It’s a date.”
* * *
I bought Tracy a nice blazer and dress. Spent the rest of the day making the spare bedroom livable. Didn’t expect Tracy would want to move in, but I figured what the hell. It needed to be done, anyway. Might as well do it now. Made the day go by quickly. The night was another matter. I imagined all sorts of different arrangements whereby Jack could be her uncle. None of them made any sense.
Chapter Six
I waited in the Metro parking lot until shortly before nine. When I pressed the buzzer, the doors opened. Tracy was waiting for me. “Why didn’t you come in?” she asked.
“I thought it best to wait until nine.”
“What’s that?”
“A gift.” I held out the blazer on a hanger and the dress in a wrapped box.
“You want Jack’s number bad. You resorting to bribery?” She laughed.
I smiled, hugging the box. “I can take them back.”
She grabbed them. “No, you can’t. They’re mine now. What’s in the box?”
“An LBD, a woman’s secret weapon.”
“LBD? Ohhh… little black dress. Been a while. Is it nice?”
“I think so. We should take them with us, in case we need to alter them. Should we go?”
She walked past me, grabbing my arm. “Lets.”
* * *
We were at the cash register. I was signing the credit card receipt. Tracy is now the proud owner of a pantsuit, a sundress, and a skirt and blouse. Shoes would be this afternoon. “Can I trick you?” she asked.
“How?”
“You hungry?”
“Getting that way, why?”
“Jack wants to meet us for lunch.”
My lungs collapsed. “What?”
She laughed. “You turned white. Scared?”
“Hell yes, I’m scared. Wouldn’t you be?”
She laughed again. “Guess I would. We had a long talk last night. He wants to meet you.”
“I’m not ready.”
“You’re more than ready. Come on, it’ll be fun. I promise,” she held up her right hand, “I won’t take your keys. You’ll be free to leave anytime.”
“When?”
She looked at her phone. “Twenty minutes.”
“Where?”
“Paolo’s. Know where it is? I don’t.”
I nodded.
“Should we go?”
Another nod.
She pushed me out of the store.
* * *
Jack was waiting for us at the receptionist’s desk. He was more handsome than I remember. Navy blue suit, starched white shirt, red tie, those damn blue eyes, and a beautiful smile. Tracy pushed me forward to Jack’s waiting hand. “Remember me?” he asked.
“Yes, and no. I remember you from our meeting months ago, but nothing before that. Should I?”
“You should, I remember you.” He nodded to the receptionist. “Our table is ready. Should we sit down?”
“Will you excuse me?” asked Tracy. “I need to go to the little girl’s room.”
“I’ll go with you,” I volunteered.
“No, you won’t. I’m not coming back. You’re on your own.” She gave Jack a peck on the cheek. “Be nice to her. She’s my friend.”
“How will you get back?” I asked.
“I’ll take a cab,” said Tracy. “Jack, may I have cab fare?”
He handed her three twenties. “If you don’t mind eating alone, they can serve you at the bar.”
“Some other time. I’m in search of a Whopper. You two have fun. Vicki, I’ll call you tonight. You can tell me all about it.” She turned to Jack. “Jack, she’s a keeper.” With that, she turned and walked away.
“Should we sit?” he asked, nodding to the receptionist. We followed the receptionist to a small table in a quiet corner by the windows. “Thank you for seeing me.” He held my chair for me. “You haven’t changed a bit.”
I shook my head. “If that were only the case. Thank you anyway.”
He shook his head. “No, I’m serious. You’re still the most beautiful girl in the class. Make that the school. Could be the city.”
“Does this malarkey work with all your conquests?”
He smiled. “Oh, so you’re a conquest now?”
“I’ll let that go. So, tell me how you know me.”
“You don’t know?”
“I know it has something to do with Monte Vista, but that was fifty years ago. I don’t remember anyone looking like you.”
“Is that good or bad?”
“You spend much time in front of a mirror?”
“No, should I?”
I nodded. “You should. You’re a very handsome man. So, who were you fifty years ago?”
He looked down at his lap and smiled. “Thank you. You’re still beautiful.”
“We’re not going to get anywhere if you don’t tell me who you are.”
He laughed. “I sat across from you next to the windows in fifth grade, don’t you remember?”
I closed my eyes, then shook my head. “I really can’t remember. What was your name?”
“Johnny Smith.”
“John Smith? You’re making this up.”
He held up his right arm. “Swear to Buddha. I sat across from you and sat a seat behind. Didn’t my eyes burn holes in your head? I stared at you all day. I was in love with you.”
“Right, what were we, ten or eleven?”
He smiled that wonderful, beautiful smile. “Doesn’t matter, I was in love. Still am.”
“What?”
He re-arranged his napkin. “Cards on the table. I’ve never fallen out of love with you.”
Now it was my turn to re-arrange my napkin and reach for my glass of water. “You’re crazy,” I said behind my glass.
He leaned forward. “Don’t you want me to be in love with you?”
“Honestly, I don’t know what I want. Obviously, you know I’m interested. You’ve been on my mind for months, since we first met.”
He shook his head. “It’s not the first time we met, remember fifth grade.”
“That’s just it, I don’t remember. How could I forget your eyes?”
He smiled. “You like my eyes?”
“I forgot, you don’t use mirrors. Yes, you have gorgeous eyes. I’ve been drawn to those eyes since we first… since I saw you in the hotel. Those eyes have cost me many hours of sleep.”
“Only fair, since you have robbed me of years of fruitless longing.”
“Oh?”
“Should we order?” He opened his menu. I caught the grin before his face disappeared.
* * *
I think I ordered the ravioli. Most of lunch was a blur. We split an order of tiramisu. When he finished his, he pushed back from the table. “Tracy likes you. Thanks for taking her under your wing.”
“She’s a good kid, easy to like.”
He nodded. “Yes, she is. Funny, the curves life throws at us.”
“It had to be more than a curve.”
He cocked his head. “She hasn’t told you her story?”
I shook my head.
“Oh, I don’t know if I should tell you.”
“You shouldn’t. If she wants me to know, she’ll tell me.”
“You’re not curious?”
“Of course, I’m curious. It’s none of my business unless she wants to make it my business. For now, she’s just a great kid I found while looking for you.”
“Looking for me?”
“Are we going to keep playing this cat-and-mouse game? I know you’re interested in me, and I’m interested in you. What we should be exploring is if there’s something more than your eyes, and my… my… Well, whatever that might add dimension to this relationship.”
“Relationship?”
I shook my head. “You’re making me angry.”
He put his hand across the table. I didn’t take it. He withdrew it. “Sorry. I’m new at this. I haven’t shared a meal with a woman since Sally died.”
“Sally?”
“My wife, Tracy’s grandmother.”
I probably audibly sighed. “Tracy’s grandmother?”
He nodded, closing his eyes. “About four years ago—cancer. I left the country shortly after. Had only been back a few days when I saw you. You are Vicky Nelson, aren’t you?”
I smiled. “I was. I’m Victoria Adams now.”
“Mrs?”
“Widow. Been about four years.”
“Did I know your husband?”
I shook my head. “Probably not. We didn’t meet until high school. Did we, you and I, have any classes together after fifth grade?”
He shook his head. “No, my heaven only lasted that one year.” He smiled. “My father was transferred at the end of the school year.”
“Your heaven?”
“Slight overstatement, since you never did more than pass a few papers or pick up the occasional pencil I dropped.”
I slapped the table with my finger. “Now I remember. It was more than the occasional pencil. How did you grow from a skinny kid with glasses into… into… well, into you?”
He laughed a full belly laugh. Several people turned to look. “Luck, I guess.”
I leaned back in my chair with my hands behind my head. “So you’re that Johnny?”
He nodded. “I’m that Johnny. Better?”
“Better. I don’t remember your eyes. I know I must have seen them. What’s different?”
“Back then it was thick lenses, now it’s contacts. See what you missed.”
“You were no prize. As I recall, you had crooked teeth. Oh, and you were short. You’re not short now.”
“No, and a couple years of braces fixed the teeth. You approve?”
“Can we stop this? Yes, I like the transformation.”
“From ugly duckling to beautiful swan?”
“Let’s go with handsome. So tell me about your life. Where have you been for fifty years?”
“It’s not that interesting.”
“No more false modesty. Why does Tracy call you uncle, instead of gramps?”
“I was only married to Sally for a short while. It was my first marriage, her second. Tracy’s mother was from her first husband. There really isn’t a term for step-granddad, is there?”
“There probably is, but uncle is better. Hard to see you as a grandfather.”
“Same for you. How many grandkids do you have?”
I shook my head. “It wasn’t to be. No kids. No grandkids.”
“I’m sorry. Think you would’ve made a good mother, maybe even a better grandmother.”
“Oh, why?”
“The way you treated Tracy.” He nodded rapidly. “She really likes you. You have a friend, if you want one.”
“I do?” I paused. “Why wouldn’t I?”
“You don’t need her anymore, you found me.”
“Think a lot of yourself, don’t you?”
He smiled. “Ya, I occasionally even look in the mirror.”
“Good, we’ve got that behind us.”
“So, what’s in front of us?”
“Nice segue. What would you like in front of you?”
“I’d like us to be friends. Think we can?”
“Time will tell. Should we give ourselves time?”
Chapter Seven
Tracy called me that night. “So, how’d it go?” she asked.
“How did what go?”
“Oh, so you’re going to be coy. How did it go with Uncle Jack? Is he the one?”
“Too early to tell. I’d like it to be him. Anything you want to tell me?”
“About him or me?”
“About him. I can wait until you’re ready.”
“What if I’m never ready?”
“Then you’re never ready. I won’t pry.”
“Interesting. You won’t ask me directly, but you expect me to spill the beans on Jack.”
“That’s about it.”
“What did he tell you?”
“Not much, just he was married to your grandmother. She died, and he went overseas. What does he do?”
“He’s an engineer—oil.”
“Oh. Did he love your grandmother?”
“Shouldn’t you ask him?”
“Shouldn’t ask it at all, just curious. I want to know what kind of man he is.”
“He’s the best. Helped me when no one else would. He barely knew me and he prowled the alleys and gutters to find me, to take care of me. You won’t find a better man, a better human being.”
I grimaced. “Sorry, I didn’t mean to touch a nerve.”
I heard her sigh. “It may be time to tell you my story.”
“Do you want to do it over coffee or wine?”
She snorted. “Better forego the wine.” Pause. “Yes, now may be the time. Might be better over the phone. It’s not a pretty story.”
“I figured as much. You don’t have to tell me.”
“I’ll give you the Cliff Notes version. I was in my sophomore year, second semester, when I fell in love. Oh, Vicky, he was marvelous—smart, witty, and oh so handsome.”
“And married?”
“How did you know? He was one of my professors.”
“Lucky guess. Sorry to interrupt. Had to be something like that to hit you so hard.”
“That was not the hard part. I got pregnant. I couldn’t have the baby. Got an abortion. He lost interest in me. My family disowned me. My church abandoned me. I had no one, and then the guilt overtook me. What had I done? I killed a helpless child. I was a murderer.” Pause. “No comment?”
“What do you say to something like that? Sorry doesn’t cut it, but I am. I’m so sorry you had to go through all that. You seem to be okay now. Are you?”
“I’m better, but I’m not where I need to be. Are we still friends?”
“We should’ve met for coffee. We both need a hug.”
She laughed. “Why do you need a hug?”
“For me, it was a miscarriage. I thought it was my fault. Frank thought it was my fault. Took a long time to get over that.”
“Oh Vicky, I’m so sorry. So you understand?”
“A bit. I had more support—my parents were there for me. Eventually, Frank came around. We were never the same, but there was enough there to go on. Not the same. You had no one. Not the same at all.”
“I may take you up on the hug next time we meet. Hope it works out between you and Jack. I’d like to have both of you as my friends.”
“We are your friends. Time will tell if Jack and I are. When would you like to go shopping again?”
“Is that all rich ladies do, go shopping?”
“Thought we might get things for the Shelter and Helen. Figured you might have a few ideas.”
“Feeling guilty?”
“A little. I like Helen. If I can help her, I want to. She may want to see you.”
“They discourage us from contacting our old life. They’re afraid we might relapse. Rehab is tough.”
“You strong enough?”
She laughed. “I’m strong enough. What time tomorrow?”
“Pick you up at nine?”
“Why don’t you come an hour earlier and you can buy me breakfast.”
“Deal. See you at eight.”
“Thanks for being my friend.”
Chapter Eight
I picked Tracy up at eight. She was waiting for me outside at the door. She was grinning like Alice’s Cheshire Cat. “Morning Vicky. It’s a beautiful morning,” she said, buckling up.
“Why so happy?”
“Who’s happy?”
“Yeah, right. Where would you like to have breakfast?”
“A little place I heard of. Want to try it?”
“Sure, where?”
“It’s called Sandy’s. They have a great patio.”
“Thought you just heard of it.”
“I did. That’s what he said.”
“Who’s this he? A boyfriend?”
“Of sorts, it was Jack.”
“Jack?” I reflexively hit the brake.
She laughed, turning to face me. “What did you do to him?”
“Me?”
“Yes, you. He called after we talked. Wanted to know what your favorite flowers are.”
“What did you tell him?”
“Said I didn’t know.” Pause. “What are your favorite flowers?”
“Where’s Sandy’s?”
“In the Hillcroft Shopping Centre. Know where it is?” I nodded and changed lanes. “So, what are your favorite flowers?”
“Daisies.”
“Daisies? I figured roses.”
I shook my head.
“Why?”
“I like the freshness of daisies. They’re hopeful.”
“Hopeful?”
I nodded. “Sure, what do you see of when you think of daisies?”
“Never thought about it. Give me a minute.” Pause, then she nodded. “I see open fields and blue skies. Yes, I can see why you’d think they’re hopeful. So, what did you do to Jack? He’s got it bad.”
“Got what?”
“Sure, play innocent. He really likes you. How do you feel about him?”
I turned to face her. “Not sure I want to tell you.”
“Why not?”
I took a deep breath, then another. “I’ve got it bad, too. Can’t explain it, I just do. I can’t think of anything else.”
She slunk in her seat, wrapping herself in her arms with an ear-to-ear grin. “Good.”
* * *
Tracy lives with us while she goes to college.
It took just one look.
© 2024 D. Reed Whittaker All rights reserved.
Click or tap here to see D. Reed Whittaker’s profile.
Use the “Leave a Comment” form below to submit comments on this piece.