Squawk! Squawk! A loud bird sound I had never heard before was coming from my backyard. Looking out my window, I witnessed a drama of David and Goliath proportions taking place…
A small, unassuming bird let forth disturbing noises. Much to my surprise, sitting on the back fence was the brown bird I had named Feisty. He was staring down a sharp taloned hawk.
Feisty was what one would call a medium -sized bird. He was not very big. But he was not very small. A plain, unassuming little brown fellow, he had staked out a bush in my yard for his home. In the bush, he had planned to build his nest and raise his family.
Previously, I had seen him going around and around the bush, chasing other birds away from his territory.
“This is mine. Get out!” he seemed to say to the other birds, until they flew away and left him in peace.
But on this fateful day, Feisty was staring down a hawk and letting forth several very loud squawks.
He rubbed his beak back and forth across the top of the wood fence. It was as if in bird speak he was saying, “Do I look like lunch meat to you?! Do I?”
The hawk which was about to swoop down and kill him with his sharp talons, back winged for a full minute. He eyed Feisty, considering him.
The hawk was clearly surprised. For this plump little bird, which he had clearly thought was lunch meat, was telling him he would fight him to the bitter end.
Oh,I have clearly made a mistake. This little fellow will fight me. He is this very moment staring me down, protesting.
And the hawk, not wanting to possibly lose something precious, decided this small brown bird wasn’t worth it. And he turned his gaze elsewhere and flew away, looking for easier prey.
As for Feisty, he groomed his ruffled feathers and flew back into the bush, his home. In the following weeks small baby brown birds were heard chirping. Feisty flew back and forth bringing them food, raising them until they were grown enough to fly away to build their own nests and have a family of their own.
I have another story. But it will make you sad. It will make you mad. And so, it is not worth telling, as it does not give hope.
California. Jeff Morgan stared grimly at his computer screen. The letters materializing from the online lovelorn network were less than inspiring. Such personals on the dating websites such as, “SFSM for nite of pn”- Single female seeks single male for a night of passion, did not exactly add up to someone looking for a lifetime commitment.
He had checked countless dating apps, matchmaking agencies, and been on more blind dates in the past few months than any single should be forced to endure. The buffet of women from nose-pierced students to chunky booted marketing executives with form fitting halter tops was amazing. But let’s be real… What did he have to show for all this activity? Zero. Not even the slightest proverbial zing of attraction had passed between himself and the women he had dated. Nada. Nothing. Heart rate slow and snoozing.
He took stock of himself as future husband material. At thirty-five, he was in good physical condition from tri-weekly workouts with his personal trainer. He held a challenging job in one of Silicon Valley’s foremost computer companies. As a product manager, his income was more than decent. He was considered to be a pretty nice guy. At least that is what his sister-in-law told him when asked. So- why was he having such a hard time finding the right woman to make a lifetime commitment?
Sure, at first it had been fun meeting a new woman every night, taking them out to different places. But lately the awkward goodnight swift pecks on the cheeks had, well, become less than satisfying, try damn frustrating.
He wanted to see the same woman, to be invited to come inside and stay for the rest of his life. He often found himself sitting around at home, waiting for texts and slowly returned phone calls that included awkward conversations. It wasn’t happening. No one had fired his thoughts or emotions.
Pulling a hand through his hair, Jeff faced the computer and clicked-up the menu to the network message board. Maybe wonder of wonders something new had popped up since the last time he looked? He was open to any suggestion that would get him out of his present dating funk.
The computer starburst into action with the click of the mouse, as if he were light-speeding into another universe. There, in the magical world where modern technology became part of the mythic legend of love potions, he expected to find the tonic pat answer to all of his heart’s befuddling demands.
The algorithms would check off his list of requirements, narrowing down the list of women. He would choose a few to contact and the life-changing adventure of discovering which was the one would begin.
“This is all scientifically perfected. The algorithms do all the work,” Jeff told himself. But he knew that if he did not put in the effort, clicking on pretty faces would get him nowhere fast. Action worked better than wishful thinking.
An animated cupid shooting arrows appeared on the screen. The little cherub winked at him, aimed, and let fly an arrow. It hit the heart dangling from a nearby message tree. Upon contact with the arrow the heart split open to reveal the paid message: MEET YOUR IDEAL WOMAN. ORDER TODAY. Below the message was the online application form. Jeff tapped the screen and leaned back in his swivel chair.
What did he have to lose? He decided to order three files, knowing that each one would contain an estimated thirty faces. Surely, he and the matchmaking agency could find one that met his idea of a wife?
Yeah, right. He frowned, recalling all the women he had met and dated. He impulsively ordered five more. Feeling as if he had just taken a giant step in the right direction, Jeff poured himself a cup full of his favorite percolated brew.
Holding a Chip-tech logo imprinted mug, he saluted the air. “To the future Mrs. Jeff Morgan, wherever you may be found.” Taking a sip, he sighed with contentment. Tomorrow night was the beginning of the weekend. For the first time in weeks he was looking forward to staying home.
Natalie paced her friend’s small living-room apartment in Illinois, reading aloud the typed paper before her. “Number 3198 likes music, books, and cooking. Never been married, she is a thirty-year-old single looking for a man who will make both a good husband and father. Contact her today and she may become yours truly.” She paused and looked incredulously at the tiny brunette seated on the sofa in front of her.
“This may have worked for you, Hannah. But me? I don’t think so.”
“Please, Nat,” pleaded her friend. The engagement ring on her left finger flashed, as she placed a hand on Natalie’s arm. ”’Give it a try. It’s a little expensive, because they do background checks. But your safety is worth it. I know this will work for you, too.”
Two weeks ago, Hannah had found herself engaged to a commercial photographer named Bob White. She was divorced. With an eight-year-old son to care for, she had never expected to fall in love again. But Bob had miraculously accepted both of them. She owed her present happiness to the matchmaking service. The wedding was set for next month.
Skeptical, Natalie continued to shake her head. It couldn’t possibly work. She was not nearly as pretty or as vivacious as her outspoken friend. Within minutes, everyone knew where they stood with Hannah. But her? No, not likely. A relationship, she told herself, took time.
Noting the defiant look in her friend’s brown eyes, Hannah said, “Listen, Nat… Every time I see you, you’re thinner and sadder. You have to do something before you fade away altogether.”
Hannah passed a critical eye over her taller friend’s willowy frame. She tried to see her through the eyes of a stranger. Natalie’s large brown eyes and long hair were all to her benefit. The fact she did not have a classical jawline and had a pert nose, did not detract from her sweet appearance. Natalie could be summarized as naturally pretty. No, her friend may not look like a beauty pageant contestant. However, she was a definite contender for a cherished Mrs. title.
“Hannah, I know my books won’t keep me warm at night. But the men here are so boring.” Natalie rolled her eyes and admitted, “Finally I just prefer to be-“
“Alone,” finished Hannah for her, with sympathetic nod. “That’s why I want you to try this. Who knows?” She flashed an impish grin. “Maybe there’s someone out there waiting for you, just as there was for me.”
Someone waiting for her… the phrase rang through Natalie’s thoughts and into her heart.
None of the men in her small Illinois town seemed to understand her quiet, but strong-minded and more progressive way of thinking. From a relatively well-to-do engineering family, she stood out noticeably from the other young women who were more interested in marrying men with lots of money than finding someone who would be their best friend.
It didn’t help that the majority of the men she met were absurdly competitive. She often found herself having to defend what she and her family had worked so hard for.
And if she could not find a man here who would respect her intelligence and warmly applauded her family’s hard-earned achievements… Maybe she should look elsewhere for someone who would? Ideally someone as well-off as her own family. Yes, but where to find such a man? Most of the men who had come close to fitting her wish list for a spouse were either in prolonged separations or divorced, with demanding ex-wives. Many were also so tiresomely full of themselves she found herself staring blankly into their eyes when her turn came to speak. The seeds that Hannah had sown into her thoughts began to take root.
Natalie considered cautiously the almost impossible odds of falling in love with a man outside her small town, possibly from another state. She came to a decision and telephoned her friend. “Hannah, make certain they take a picture of me smiling. I wouldn’t want him to think I am desperate. Besides, I’m not about to marry someone twice my age.” She made a face. “No, I am most definitely not looking for an inflexible man who reminds me of my last boss, full of unreasonable and outdated expectations. Besides, I don’t look good in a string bikini.”
“Never thought you needed to,” laughed Hannah. Talking a mile a minute about what Natalie should say and wear for her video interview, Hannah arranged to meet with her the next day at the studio. They would tape Natalie’s interview, helping her become Miss #3198.
California. One week later, after passing the background check, Jeff opened the email from the matchmaking agency. An explanation of how their matchmaking system worked was included.
He kicked-off his shoes and began to read the introduction. He stopped upon noticing that two of the ten codes with profiles of the women he was interested in were missing. It would appear that number 3306 and 2814 had already found husbands. Did that not prove how well their service worked? The letter slyly boasted. Not necessarily, the skeptical side of Jeff voted. It could simply mean that the gentlemen who lived next-door to the ladies might have scored points for hometown courting. There was after all an advantage to living in the same place as the one you are courting.
He noted that of the two missing, one had been recommended to him by his mother, Betty Morgan. He smiled as he recollected how his family had taken an active interest in his scheme to find a wife. After wading helplessly through screens shots full of faces, Jeff discovered he could not keep focused. He had decided to use the perspectives of those he valued the most- the highly opinionated Morgan clan.
Arriving at his parents’ home, with the tired look of one who has spent too much time in front of a computer, Jeff knocked on the door. His mother answered, greeting him with a hug and a kiss on the cheek.
His fraternal twin brother Gary, and his wife, Lynn, greeted him from the family room. Joe Morgan, the patriarch of the family, stepped inside from the garage. He nodded his head at him by way of greeting. “Better be careful of entrusting any of those women you fancy to your mother. She will pick out the wedding dinner menu before you can say your name to the lady.”
“Really Joe, I’m not as bad as all that,” retorted his wife, Betty. She sat on the sofa and began writing down numbers. Family chatter stopped. All stared at the intent mother-in-law to be. She peered intently through her glasses up at the television screen before her, engrossed.
Joe bent over his wife and stage-whispered, “Jeff, might want a pen and paper too, honey.”
At this the room broke into a roar of laughter. Flushed, the mother of the noisy brood stood-up, placed a swift kiss on her husband’s face and went to fetch the writing materials. By the end of the evening, candidates were submitted for his final scrutiny. Jeff, knowing his family had faith in him to find the woman he would love for the rest of his life, felt renewed energy and determination.
For another hour, Jeff looked over the photos and interests of the women they had selected. When he reached his father’s choices, he couldn’t help but laugh. Dad’s idea of the ideal wife for him bordered on theatrical fantasy. All of the women looked like the glamour vamps from a reality show. They stared out at him wearing wigs and spray on tans. His father apparently thought he needed a sexy woman to warm his bed. He had chosen one of the women his father had picked, with an almost see-through blouse that left nothing to the imagination, to humor him. He leaned back and observed the television screen connected wirelessly to his computer. He planned on viewing all of the recorded interviews that night.
Natalie stared at the Texan in front of her. They were meeting in Chicago, a long drive from her family’s Victorian house located on a picturesque woodland hill in the countryside. It was almost surreal that the man she had been talking to for the last two weeks online was seated across from her in this small coffee shop. His hair had been closely shaved into a short haircut and above his mouth was a neatly trimmed mustache. His eyes watched her as she sat down. Mr. Arthur O’Keefe was thirty-six, had been married before, but had no children.
He was one of the handsomest men she had ever met. She felt a tad uneasy. He looked too good to be true. He in turn was looking her over, taking in the jacket and wrap dress. His eyes flicked over her shoulder-length hair neatly pulled back with a pearled hair comb.
“Well, how do I measure up?” Natalie asked, her midwestern accent hanging thickly in the air. The noise of the people talking behind them causing her to speak a little louder than usual. It was near mid-morning and many were ordering last minute pastries.
“Fine,” O’Keefe said, as though trying to picture her in some other way. She looked at him quizzically. “You’re the first one I’ve met today who has not asked me to reimburse her for the trip. That’s a point for you.”
“I am the first one?” Natalie asked, a frown lightly crossing her brow. She looked around her to see if there was someone else he knew there. “What others are you talking about?”
“I thought you knew. Well, at least I told you, didn’t I? I have been meeting with women since early this morning,” O’Keefe said, as if he were talking of hiring a woman to be his wife. “I wanted to meet with you all. You know, to figure out which one of you would make the best wife for me.”
“Oh-” Natalie, a sick feeling fluttering in her stomach, suddenly embarrassed. Naively, she had thought she was the only one he had made an appointment with. He had said on the phone that he wanted to meet her and contact some of his other friends in the area, while on a business trip. She had foolishly thought he meant other Texans like himself, not other single, Illinois women.
“How many more are you going to meet?” she asked carefully, trying to keep her voice light, even though her pride hurt.
“You’re number four. I’ve got one more rendezvous with a lady at three and then I will make up my mind.” Then, as if he suddenly remembered that she was one of the women he was supposed to be interested in, he brought out an expensively wrapped package.
“Here, honey, this is for you.” O’Keefe handed it to her.
“Thank-you,” she answered and politely put it beside her. He looked at her expectantly.
“Well, aren’t ya going to open it, Natalie?”
“Oh, of course.” She smiled at him. And as she undid the wrapping paper, he sat back and drank his coffee.
“All the ladies I picked to meet love chic clothes. So, I thought I’d bring you all a present.”
Natalie forced a smile. It was very considerate of him to think of such a gift. Although it made her feel as if she were some sort of fashion doll he was trying clothes on. She took the lid off the box. Beneath the tissue paper lay a name-brand black spandex skirt with a matching bodice. She noted that the waist was elastic.
“The description of you was small,” O’Keefe said as way of explanation. “But I thought it best to buy one outfit that would fit any size. The last gal I met was so excited she jumped right up and gave me a big kiss.”
“It was thoughtful of you.” Natalie observed him. Summarizing her own feelings about their encounter, she shrewdly asked, “You have already come to a decision about us. You are meeting with me today out of politeness. Because we agreed to, right?”
He sat up a little straighter. The look he gave her told Natalie that she was putting him on the spot. Some innate sixth sense had told her just from the few minutes that they had spent together that he had already decided whom he wanted to marry.
“Yes,” he answered, some of the good ol’ boy facade slipping.
She stood-up and gave him a genuine smile of friendship. She spoke formally, deciding to be polite. There was no need for any unnecessary drama. “I think I will be going, Mr. O’ Keefe. I hope the rest of your stay in Chicago is a pleasant one. It was nice to meet you.”
“The pleasure was all mine.” O’Keefe smiled, obviously relieved that she was not sore at him.
Natalie walked out the coffee shop door. She headed towards the car park and reminded herself how fortunate she was not to have invested herself too much in the Texan and have a broken heart. Despite Mr. O’ Keefe having behaved like a perfect gentleman, she was lucky to have escaped becoming his future wife. She was not certain that a man who bought clothes for her on their very first date would want to limit himself to choices involving her wardrobe.
The encounter with the Texan did not put Natalie off from the idea of finding a husband. She told herself she would be more particular about the inquiries she chose to reply to in the future.
California. It had been almost two months since Jeff had begun corresponding with the women from The Cupid’s Arrow. One woman had written him openly asking for money- so she could come and visit him. But Betty Morgan hadn’t raised a fool. He told the woman that he would be happy to repay her expenses once she arrived at the airport. He never heard from her again.
Only two had made him feel as if they were writing to him and not to his bank account. He had begun corresponding exclusively to one of them over the last two weeks. She had been the one who appeared to be seeking not just a husband, but a close friend. Their conversations online had become more and more intimate and personal. She sent him her home phone number.
They had gone beyond the typical chitchat of strangers meeting for the first time. He had recently found himself daydreaming about her sitting next to him in his townhouse, talking and laughing with her after a hard day at work. After their last conversation, he had begun to have a clear vision of introducing her to the Morgan clan and becoming more than just online friends.
Jeff spoke to her on the phone, “Natalie, I have been thinking it over. I think it’s time that we met. I’ve enjoyed our face-timing and conversations on the phone. I want to meet you in person. Do you want me to come to Illinois?”
“To meet here…” she murmured breathlessly, then with firm certainty. “Yes, Jeff. I would love for you to come!” Her reply caused his heart to skip a beat. He could hear the happy delight in her voice.
The next day he began to make arrangements to take time off from work and to book a flight. He wanted her to be exclusively his. He was ready to consider making a lifetime commitment.
Chicago, Illinois. Natalie looked at Jeff. He stood a head taller than her. She gazed into his warm hazel eyes. Since the moment he had stepped in front of her in the reception area, she had not been able to take her eyes off him. The way he smiled down at her made her melt.
“Natalie?” Jess asked, looking at her.
“Yes,” Natalie replied flustered and excited. She was at last meeting the man whom she considered to be her special friend these last few weeks. She almost wanted to pinch herself to make certain that the moment between them was happening. This was not a figment of her romantic imagination. He had come all the way to Chicago just for her.
She put a hand on her heart. “I am so happy to meet you at last, Jeff.”
“Me too. It’s good to be here.” Jeff smiled back.
They went to a little restaurant not far from the hotel. They laughed and talked for hours. They said goodnight, agreeing to meet the next day. She intended on taking Jeff on a sightseeing tour of Chicago.
By the end of the third day, Jeff walked with Natalie on his arm around the city. He knew that everything between the two of them was going to work out. Since the moment he had locked eyes with Natalie, everyone and everything around him hadn’t really mattered, except this beautiful, intelligent woman.
In the evening, Jeff sat staring at her from across a candlelit table. Natalie was so pretty and refined. He felt like the luckiest man in the world. He loved her midwestern accent and the way she tilted her head when listening to him.
“Is something the matter? Do I have food on my face?” Natalie asked.
“No. It’s just the restaurant, the wine, the candles, the conversation, and well, being here with you, Natalie.”
“Me? What about me?”
“Adorable! You are beautiful inside as well as out.” Jeff shook his hand expressively as if he had just touched a hot stove. They both laughed.
But the seriousness of their conversation returned, as Natalie confessed, “When you wrote and told me about your family, I knew that you were a good man. I think you will make a wonderful husband and father. You are such a sincere person.”
“I like you too, Natalie. You are an amazing lady. I never thought I would meet someone interested in me. A lot of women back home think I am a computer nerd.”
“They must be fools, then.” Natalie dismissed these others with the wave of her hand.
“Not to mention, they lack your intelligence, your wit.” Jeff whispered boldly, “and your sexiness.”
She smiled, a light blush making her cheeks rosy.
“Would you like to come up and have a night cap in my room?” she asked, having decided to stay at the same hotel as him when they made the decision to see each other in the city. She was ready to take a leap of faith concerning their relationship.
“I would.” The zing he had been feeling in his heart was definitely there.
Jeff turned towards her as they reached a lit tree on their walk back to the hotel. Holding Natalie’s face gently in his hands, he said softly, “I think I am falling in love with you, Natalie.” He then kissed her the way he had wanted to since the very first moment they had met. It was a kiss full of promise…
The Author: Beverly Adam is a romance author living in California. She first wrote this story in the 1990s based on a magazine article she read concerning a dating service. She thought you, the reader, might enjoy this short story which has transformed over the years.
Be careful out there, ladies and gentlemen, I would not want any of you to be hurt.
I am at a complete loss. It is a wonder that I am able to hold this quill in my hand. For I am trembling and
truly do not know what to think of what happened tonight… I have been kissed! And not by just any man, but by none other than John Edington. I have known him since I was old enough to make mud pies in my father’s cherry orchard. I never thought that John would ever forget himself in such a way. Truth be told, I have never taken him very seriously. I have always thought of him as a bit of a prankster, a witty knave. He has been ever so silly and foolish around me. He has at times called me his princess and himself my fool. There have been several occasions when I believed he thought I was put expressly on this earth so that I might laugh at his jokes. However, last night made me change my opinion.
The kiss he gave me had quite a toe curling effect. It left me quite breathless and flushed. And if I had not known that my corsets were not tight, I would have sworn that I was about to swoon into a faint. It was like having sun stroke right there in the middle of Uncle Frederick’s house. But outside it was cool and a full harvest moon shone down upon us from the open bay window. John was very brazen about it too…
First, he innocently brought me glasses of rum punch and we exchanged the usual polite banter that one does. You know, about his latest craze for steam inventions, especially horseless carriages, and how he is mad about anything that smells of grease and made of iron. And he politely asked me what I planned to do after Christmas, now that I have graduated from Miss Ella’s Finishing School.
It was then I sprung upon him my good news, about my uncle’s decision that I should go to Washington D. C, with him and Aunt Lucinda. And how we planned to be gone almost an entire year and stay with my cousins in Virginia, thus giving me an ample opportunity to mix in polite society and meet eligible gentlemen.
Now that I reflect upon the events leading up to our kiss, was it my imagination or did the twinkle in his hazel eyes go out when I said that? And could it be his smile diminished a bit? What I mean to say, dear diary, is could it be that John Edington is carrying a torch for me?
No, it couldn’t be true! As I said, he has known me all my life. Until now he has never given the slightest indication that he thought of me in that way. I must not develop flights of fancy over this.
But mind, tonight I did look rather nice. The new evening gown, the one mother helped me order from Frisco, is made of the loveliest evergreen satin. It is lined with rich dark velvet and yards upon yards of the prettiest lace you ever did see. It makes a most delightful swishing sound when I dance. And the bustle in the back trails becomingly down like a rippling fountain in a river of satin and lace. I adore it, and felt like someone in a fairytale wearing it. And I received several fulsome compliments from other gentlemen present, too.
I had Betsy, my aunt’s maid, help me with my hair. She swept it up in that new style that those Gibson ladies wear. And for a bit of Christmas cheer, she entwined a small garland of white roses in it. I do not mean to boast, dear diary, but I do think I looked a pretty picture.
Now back to the kissing… When I was becoming a little bit tipsy, John asked me for a waltz. And waltz we did, right into the alcove, where hung a fresh bough of mistletoe. A bough, I must add, I do not remember hanging there.
Thank heavens no one spied us behind the red drapes. It makes my cheeks flush, thinking back upon it. I am afraid I made quite a cake of myself, hanging onto him like I did. And was it my imagination or did he forget himself too? I mean, when he wrapped his strong mechanic’s arms about my waist, was he… Could it be possible, that the reason he did so was because he forgot himself as well?
Dear diary, as you can see, I am most befuddled by all this. Yes, I am absolutely, quite splendidly at a loss as to what has come over my childhood friend and myself.
December 24, 1910
Dear Diary, John has come to fetch me for an afternoon Christmas Eve ride. Papa told him that I might go for one in his new steamer. You see, John is doing quite well in his fruit canning business. Only the very well-to-do can afford such a luxury as a horseless carriage. And there is an increasing demand for his fruit back east. There has been quite a lot of talk of his expanding business.
Papa told me he thought John was the wealthiest young man in our entire county. And he gave me a queer look as he said it. Just before I was to leave he kissed me on the forehead, told me what a splendid daughter I was, and said that any man who won my hand in marriage would be a lucky one. It was truly most peculiar.
When John finally arrived, both Papa and Mama greeted him warmly, as if they had not seen him in years. And that also was strange. It must be noted that yesterday, when I was out visiting the shops, I had the distinct impression he had paid them a call. For when I came home I saw his favorite wool cap hanging on the umbrella stand. But when I remarked upon it to mother she gave me this mysterious little smile. It was as if she knew what had transpired between John and I last night.
My cheeks heated under her penetrating gaze. And I pretended that I was not all that keen on seeing him this afternoon. Such foolishness, when in fact I am counting every tick on our grandfather clock until I do!
John was so courteous and correct with me when he helped me into his automobile, very much the gentleman. I had to ask him what was wrong… I had some difficulty reconciling this handsome beau in his long duster and automobile goggles, with the jokester who used to put toads in my lunch pail.
He simply said that he wanted to make certain that I was comfortable and pulled out a heavy tartan blanket to put over my lap. He was ever so thoughtful. And he did not crack one joke when I almost tripped getting in.
I pulled the veil of my hat over my face and made certain it was tightly bowed. I did not want it to fly off during the ride. The hat is the new white one I had trimmed with holly and little red berries made out of silk and lace. It has a broad band of red velvet ribbon running around it for trim. The milliner told me it was the most fetching one she had made this season. And from the wink John gave me when we took off, I would say he was right pleased by how it looked on me.
He informed me that his steamer could go up to the unheard speed of twenty miles an hour. I must say my heart tripped a little bit at the thought. He promised, however, to keep it down to the more stately speed of five. Apparently my father would not let him take me out unless he did. Papa was afraid that it might overheat if John put it at full throttle. Even so, it was thrilling and we had such a merry time! To be truthful, dear diary, we always have such good times together. I just never realized how much we enjoyed each other’s company before.
He took me up into the nearby hills. It was not a very long drive and I was almost sorry it ended, that is until I saw the view. Breathtaking, we could look out at the entire valley.
Below I could see all of the county laid out at our feet. We spotted my father’s orchards and John’s canning sheds, as well as a few of the brick buildings of our town, including Uncle Frederick’s bank. And off in the far distance we could see the salt marshes leading out to the bay and the Pacific Ocean. It all looked so lovely. I was so happy he had brought me.
We sat on the blanket and ate the chicken and potato salad my mother had cooked for us. John brought out a jug of warmed apple cider, which he had strapped to the boiler engine to keep warm. And for dessert, we had some of his housekeeper’s lemon pie. It tasted delicious and I told him so. Taking my hand into his, he gazed into my eyes and replied that it did not taste half as heavenly as me. Drawing me into his arms, he kissed me. It was sweet and tender, and warmed me all over.
As he bid me goodnight, John told me that he was going to bring me a present tomorrow. I asked if it was going to be a very small one? He laughed, and told me that I was a minx, and that if I did not behave myself he was going to replace it with one of his famous toads. That made me laugh! He is such an adorable fool.
Oh, I do so hope his present is the kind that is found in those darling silver heart boxes, the sort Mr. Miller’s jewelry store sells. I must now confess, dear diary, I no longer desire to go to Washington D. C, or any other place. I would much prefer staying here in this lovely valley with my John. You see, I do believe he is going to ask me to marry him. And as I am very much in love, I will simply will have to answer, Yes, John. And live happily ever after a princess with her loving knave. All because he daringly kissed me under the mistletoe.
.
Author’s notes: I have been up into the hills of Northern California, in the Bay Area, and seen the view the young lovers enjoy. I am the published author of a Regency romance series: The Honorable Gentlemen. The trilogy was released by Lachesis Publishing (Canadian), and is currently available.
Author Beverly Adam 