The Birthday Gift

Today was her birthday.  It was a sunny, pleasant day, not as muggy as yesterday. Too bad she couldn’t treat herself an iced tea.  She was late, thanks to a delay on the tube. It was ten minutes after nine.  She hurried down the sidewalk and arrived at the office building seven minutes later.  She took the lift instead of the stairs.  As she walked through the work area to her cubicle, she caught a few people staring and smiling at her.

She stopped short when she got to her desk and saw the white box tied with a red ribbon lying in the center.  There was an envelope tucked underneath the ribbon.  She pulled it out and opened it.  She took out the card.  It was a pretty card with a bird and flowers on it with the words, “Happy Birthday.” She opened it and read the neat handwriting which simply said, “Best wishes on your birthday”.  There was no name.  Curious, she opened the box and gasped when she saw a dozen beautiful orange roses.  She had never seen roses this color before.  Their sweet scent filled the air.

By now, a few of her co-workers had gathered around her desk, admiring the roses and teasing her about having a secret admirer when she told them that she had no clue who gave them to her.  “Are you absolutely sure that you don’t know who sent you these?” Stella asked.

She shook her head.  “I honestly don’t know who sent me these.”

“You know I read somewhere that orange roses express admiration and attraction,” Ruth commented, looking enviously at the roses.  “These are definitely from an admirer.”

She stood there trying to figure out who it could be.  There was one person she wished they were from but dismissed the thought.  When everyone returned to their desks, she went to the kitchen to fill a vase with water.  She took the roses out of the box and put them in the vase.  She set the vase on the shelf above her desk.  It was hard concentrating on her work as she kept wondering who sent her the roses.  The card offered no clues.

When her friend Irene called to let her know that she was on her way to pick her up for lunch, she asked her to come upstairs.  She wanted to show her the roses and the card.

After Irene wished her a happy birthday, hugged her and gave her a small gift bag, she showed her the roses and the card.  “I have no idea who sent me them.”

Irene read the card and then handed it back to her.  “I do,” she said.

She looked at her.  “You do?” she asked, incredulous.

“Those roses are from my garden and this is Edward’s handwriting.”

She shook her head in disbelief.  “No, that’s not possible.  You’re pulling my leg.”

Irene looked amused.  “I assure you, I am not.  I saw him in the garden this morning, picking the roses and when his pants leg got caught on the thorny bush.  Then, I saw him get into his car and drive off.  He didn’t even bother to pop his head in to say hello.”

She looked at her friend dazed.  “I can’t believe it,” she murmured.  Well, you wanted the roses to be from him, didn’t you?

“Come along now, my Dear.  We will talk more about it over lunch.” She took her by the arm and escorted her out of the office.

“Why would he send me roses for my birthday?” she asked when they were sitting in the restaurant.

“Why do men usually send roses to women?” Irene asked dryly.  “Obviously, he is besotted with you.”

“But, he can’t be,” she protested.  “He’s never let on that he is.”

“Edward was always good at hiding his feelings, too well, if you ask me.  He’s the male equivalent of Elinor Dashwood.  I had no clue that he harbored any feelings for you until this morning.”  Just then their orders arrived.  Irene raised her glass in a toast.  “Here’s to many more happy birthdays,” she said.

She raised her glass, her mind still reeling from what she had just learned.  The plate of flavorful Chicken Biryani sat in front of her but she hardly tasted it.  Could it really be true?  Did Edward have feelings for her?  How she hoped that were true.

“Edward’s coming over to my place this evening,” Irene informed her.  “Why don’t you come over and thank him personally for the roses?”

Her heart did a somersault at the thought of seeing him.  “Won’t he wonder how I know that they are from him?

“Leave that to me.  Come around 7:30.”

“All right, I’ll come.” Knowing that the roses were from Edward made them even more precious.  She would take half of them home with her.  They would look lovely on the mantelpiece and definitely brighten up the flat.

They spent the rest of lunch talking about other things and then Irene gave her a ride back to the office.

It was 7:30 and she was walking up driveway to Irene’s quaint cottage.  Her eyes fell on the rose bush.  She tried to picture Edward picking twelve roses from it, getting pricked and entangled but it seemed so fanciful.  She rang the doorbell, her heart pounding.  She heard footsteps and then Irene opened the door.  She smiled at her.  “Come in,” she said.  “Frank and the kids are at the playground and Edward’s out in the backyard.

“Thank you for the lovely scarf and funny card,” she said, hugging her friend.

“You’re welcome.  Would you like something to drink?”

“Not right now, thanks,” she said as she stepped into the foyer, thinking what a lovely and cozy home it was.  It was warm and welcoming.  She removed her sandals and carried them.  She followed Irene through the living-room and through the kitchen.  Her heartbeat accelerated with each step and when she saw Edward sitting in a chair with his back to the door, she felt nervous.  She put on her sandals, feeling three inches tall again.  Irene stood at the door while she went onto the deck and down the steps.

“Hello, Edward,” she called as she approached him.

He turned around at once when he heard her and then got to his feet.  His eyes were wary as they met hers.  “Hello, Anne,” he said quietly.

She rested her handbag on the table and put her hands behind her back so that he wouldn’t see that they were shaking.  “I—I wanted to thank you for the beautiful roses,” she stammered.

“You’re welcome.  It was rather remiss of me not to sign my name in the card. It would have saved you the trouble of trying to figure out who sent the roses.  I’m sorry.”

“No need to apologize.  Everyone thought that they were from a secret admirer…” her voice trailed off as she immediately wished she hadn’t said that but she was so nervous and he seemed so rigid.

“Do you know why I chose orange roses instead of red?”

She shook her head, her eyes wide as they met his.  Her mouth went dry as he moved closer, looking intense.

“Not only do I feel a deep love for you but a wild passion.  I know that to you I may seem stiff and aloof but that’s just on the surface.  Underneath, I am like a volcano, ready to erupt.  Am I scaring you?” His eyes were dark now and stormy with the emotions he was feeling inside.

She shook her head again, moving closer.  His words shocked and thrilled her at the same time.  She never imagined that beneath that reserved exterior such feelings existed.

He reached up and cupped her face between his hands and his lips covered hers, moving passionately on them, not seeming to care that they might be seen.  He kissed her like a man who had long been restrained from showing his feelings and was now breaking free from those restraints.  She responded to his fiery kisses, her arms tight about his waist.  This continued for several minutes until the sound of voices reached their ears.  Frank and the kids had returned.  They broke apart. Edward pushed his fingers through his hair as he tried to steady his breathing while Anne gripped the top of the chair next to her, her chest heaving as she struggled to catch her breath.

“Let me take you out for dinner,” he asked, his eyes earnest as they met hers.  “I want to celebrate what’s left of your birthday with you.”

“I’d like that very much,” she managed to say.  What could be more perfect way to celebrate her birthday than a romantic dinner with Edward?  She walked around the table to where her handbag was.  Opening it, she took out her lip gross and with a trembling fingers, applied it to her lips.  After she placed it back in her bag, she went back to where Edward stood, waiting for her.

As they walked toward the house, the children came bounding out, followed by Frank and Irene.   While the two girls chatted excitedly with Uncle Edward about their afternoon in the playground, Irene came over to her.  She put her arm around her shoulders.  “How did it go?” she asked.

Anne smiled.  “He’s taking me out for dinner,” she said.

“Well, have fun,” Irene said and hugged her.  “I’ll call you during the week.”

Anne went over to Edward who was talking to his brother-in-law.  The children had darted back inside the house.  Frank smiled at her.  “Happy birthday,” he said, hugging her.  “How was your day?”

“Thank you.  It has been a wonderful day,” she remarked, looking at Edward.

Frank gave them both a knowing look.  “Well, enjoy the rest of it,” he said.

“I will.”  She turned and waved to Irene before she and Edward walked away, his hand reaching for hers.

 

 

Source:  Teleflora

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Young and Divorced

It was hard to believe that

this was the same man she

married.  They had started

off so strong.  They were told

that they were too young to

get married but they believed

that they were ready.  Their

love was strong enough to

weather any storms that

would appear on the

horizon.  Or so she thought.

Then the honeymoon was

over and the troubles began.

 

First there were little dis-

agreements here and there

then they evolved into

bitter quarrels which ended

in stony silence.  They made

up after a while but the

damage had been done.

The love they once felt

for each other no longer

inhabited their hearts.

It was time to call it

quits.  The love had gone

and bitterness had taken

its place.

 

There was no hope of reconciliation.

Divorce was the only course

of action.  How she hated to

admit that everyone was

right.  The signs had been

there before they got married

but she had ignored them.

Now, she was paying dearly

for her mistake.

 

She filed for the divorce.

How she hated divorce.

It was like a stain upon

her life.  At age twenty-five,

she was a divorced woman.

How sad.  How degrading.

She was the first member

in her family to be divorced

a distinction she would have

gladly not have borne.

 

Now she must return to the

single life.  Single life as a

divorced woman.  What a

frightening thought.  She

packed her bags and stood

on the threshold, the open

door leading to a life, a future

without him.  She would

face what was out there

and this time, she would let

wisdom guide her.

 

Wisdom is the principal thing; Therefore get wisdom – Proverbs 4:7 

 

blonde woman looking out

The Suitor Calls

It was Friday evening.  Mr. Read

was to call on her.  She felt a prickle

of excitement at the thought of

seeing him again.  The week had

flown by quickly.  It seemed only

a moment ago when she had

surprised him in the library

where he was composing a

note which he gave to her.

 

After reading what it said,

she set about writing a reply

and mailed it that very after-

noon.  She wanted to make

sure he received it before

Friday evening when he

was to stop by.

 

She stood by the window

now eagerly watching for

his arrival.  Her family

were already in the

drawing-room where she

was to receive him.  She

ran her hands nervously

over the bodice of her dress.

Her mother assured her

that she looked “very pretty

indeed” when she came up

to her room to inspect her

a few moments ago.

 

Her heart skipped a beat when

she saw the familiar figure on

the horse coming up the road.

She hurried from her room,

wanting to be in the drawing-

room when he was admitted

to it.

 

By the time she ran down the

stairs and was seated on the

chair facing the door, she was

out of breath.

 

“My Ellen, how lovely you look,”

her mother gushed.  “However,

Dear, you really shouldn’t be

rushing about the place.  Now

you are panting as if you have

been running for miles.  Do try

to compose yourself before Mr.

Read arrives–”

 

Just then Bessie came to the door-

way and announced, “Mr. Read, Sir,”

addressing Ellen’s father.

 

“Mr. Read,” he greeted him jovially.

“How delightful to see you.”

 

“Good evening, Mr. Turner,”

Mr. Read replied as he went

forward and extended his hand

to the older gentleman.   “Thank

you for allowing me the pleasure

of visiting you and your family.”

He bowed to Mrs. Turner and her

two younger daughters before

his eyes shifted to Ellen and

remained there.  “Miss Turner,”

he said softly as he bowed.

 

She lowered her head in

greeting, “Mr. Read.”

 

Their eyes held for a moment

before he sat in the vacant

chair next to hers.   “Mr. Read,

I do hope you will join us for

dinner,” Mrs. Turner said.  “That

is if you have no other plans.”

 

He smiled.  “I have no other

plans, Madam and would be

delighted to join your family

and you for dinner.  Thank you.”

 

“And how are Mr. and Mrs. Read?

 

“They are doing well, thank you.”

For a while the conversation was

between Mr. Read and her mother

and then her father but she hardly

spoke, except to ask her suitor how

he was and if he was enjoying the

balmy weather they were having.

 

Then dinner was announced

and as they filed out of the room,

Mr. Read offered his arm to Ellen

and she took it, her eyes shy as

they met his.  “I hope that you

will do me the honor of going for

a walk with me tomorrow afternoon,”

he said.

 

“I would be delighted,” she said.  “My

sisters will accompany us.”

 

“Very good then.”  And they went

into dinner.

 

 

Victorian woman in blue dress looking out the window

Love and Friendship

“I’m just going to the drugstore.  I’ll be back in a jiffy,” Alison called out to her cousin, Derek who was visiting from New York and staying at her place.  It was good having him around, even if it was for just a few days.  He helped to take her mind off Richard or least distract her from her misery as much as was possible.

She grabbed her handbag and headed to the door.  When she opened it, she was startled to see Richard standing there.  “Richard!” she exclaimed.  Her heart lurched.  Joy and dread mingled at the sight of him.  How she missed him.  It had been about two weeks now.  She longed to throw her arms around him and tell him how much she loved him but she didn’t.  She couldn’t.  They were just friends.

His face was pale and his eyes were restless on her face.  “I had to see you, Alison,” he muttered.  “I miss you.”

She swallowed hard.  “I-I was on my way out,” she told him when what she really wanted to say was, “I miss you too.”

“Please let me come in.”

She stepped aside and let him in.  She closed the door and leaned against it for a moment.  He turned to face her and was about to take a step closer to her when Derek walked into the room, talking to someone on his cell.  He stopped when he saw them.

Richard looked at him and then at her.  His expression darkened.  “Is he the reason why you haven’t been returning my calls?” he asked.  “Are you and he–?”

“No.  Derek is my cousin.  He’s here from New York.  He came for the Caribbean Carnival.  He leaves tomorrow.”

Derek finished his call.  He looked apologetic.  “I thought you had left,” he said to Alison.  He turned to Richard.  “Sorry, Man, I was just leaving.  I’m Derek, by the way.”  He held out his hand.

Richard shook it.  “Richard.”

“Richard, I’ll be with you in a minute,” Alison told him.  He went over to the sofa and sat down.

“Is he your boyfriend,” Derek asked in a low voice.

Alison shook her head.  “No. We are just friends.”

Derek looked surprised.  “Really?  Well, when he saw me he acted more like a jealous boyfriend than a friend.  I’ll see you later.”  He called over his shoulder, “Nice meeting you, Richard.”  And then he was out of there.

Alison closed the door and walked slowly over to the sofa.  She sat down.  Richard was staring at her. “How have you been, Richard?” she asked.

“How do you think I have been, Alison?” he demanded.  “It has been two weeks since we last saw or spoke to each other.  I have been miserable.  Why have you been avoiding me?  Have you met someone? Do you think he would have a problem with our friendship?”

“I haven’t met anyone, Richard.”

“Then why haven’t you called me or visited or answered my calls?  I thought we were friends.”

She got up agitated.  “That’s the problem,” she said.  “I don’t want to be friends with you anymore.”

He jumped to his feet and taking her by the shoulders, he turned her round to face him.  He looked distraught.  “What do you mean?” he asked.  “Why don’t you want us to be friends anymore?”

With him this close, his eyes penetrating hers, she couldn’t think straight but she had to tell him the truth.  She owed him that much.  “I want to be more than friends, Richard.  I have wanted it for a long time now.”

He looked stunned.  Then, his countenance brightened.  “Oh, Alison,” he cried.  “You really had me scared.  I was going to tell you that if I couldn’t have your heart, at least I could still have your friendship but, when you said that you didn’t want us to be friends anymore I nearly lost it.”

Alison’s expression was frank.  “You have my heart, Richard,” she confessed.  “You have had it for a long time now.  I didn’t tell you because I didn’t know if you felt the same way.  And I couldn’t go on pretending that I was fine with just being friends.”

“And that is why you stopped seeing me for two weeks?  You have no idea how much I suffered during that time and until now.  I thought you had met someone and I was out of my mind with jealousy, wondering who he was.  And when I saw Derek, I thought–well, you know what I thought.  Yet, I would still have wanted to be your friend.  It would be better than not having you in my life anymore but I was relieved when you told me that he was your cousin.”

“Derek was right.  He said that you were jealous.”

“I was.”

“You have no reason to be jealous of anyone, Richard.  I love you.”

“And, I love you, Alison.”  He bent his head and kissed her.

Moments later, she drew back to look up into his flushed face.  “Derek won’t be back until later.  We have the apartment all to ourselves.”

He smiled.  “That sounds good.  You and I have a lot of catching up to do.”

black and white couple

Giving

It was one of the highlights in her life.

To organize a donation drive and then

make arrangements for the delivery

of the clothes and other items she

received from the church members

and to see the faces of the staff

when she dropped them off.

 

It was an opportunity to teach

her daughter Kayla about

caring for those who

were less fortunate.  Kayla’s

face lit up every time they

got out the boxes and went

through the toys and clothes

that they were going to give

to the women and children

in the homeless shelter.  Kayla

was more than willing to give

away her toys and books.  “It

will make them and Jesus happy,”

she explained.

 

Once Kayla went with her to the

shelter and on their way home

she asked, “Mommy, why do

people live in shelters?”

 

“Sometimes things are so bad

at home that they have to leave

and find somewhere else–a place

where they feel safe.  The shelter

protects them from harm.”

 

“I’m happy that things are good

at home, Mommy.  I am happy that

I have somewhere to live.  I wouldn’t

want to live in a shelter.”

 

She smiled.  “Yes, Kayla.  We have

so much to thank God for because

He has blessed us so now we are

blessing others.  Those who

are living in the shelters are

thankful too.  They have shelter,

food, clothes and other things

they need.  And when we help

them, it is as if we are helping

Jesus.  It is always good to help

people.  When we help them

by donating what we have,

there is a feeling that we are

doing the right thing and we

are making God proud.  God

is always proud of you when

you help people.”

 

“When I grow up, I want to

help as many children and

their mommies as I can.”

 

She smiled.  Lord, bless

her little heart for wanting

to be a blessing to others.

And thank You for showing

her that it is more blessed

to give than to receive.

 

donate_clothes_uday_foundat

The Photo Shoot

She had photographed many men but this one took the cake.  This was her first trip to Scotland for a photo shoot for the fashion magazine she worked for.  She had never seen a man in a kilt before but this guy looked incredible in the traditional garb.  He wore it extremely well.  And those smoldering eyes and rugged looks didn’t hurt.

She willed herself to remain professional and just do the job at hand.  However, she couldn’t help wishing that she could exchange places with the glamorous woman standing beside him.  Perhaps, she could ask the woman to take a photo of her with him after the shoot and…

Don’t be silly, she chided herself.  You are here to do a job.  Just do it.  

She continued clicking away and was relieved when it was over.  She was packing up her gear when he joined her.  She tried not to give away the fact that she was as nervous as a schoolgirl with a crush and smiled sedately.

“Callum,” he said with that Scottish lilt that was as disarming as his smile.

She held out her hand.  “Holly.”  He clasped it in firm but warm handshake.  She felt a bolt of electricity course through her body.  Their eyes met and held for what seemed like eternity.  He was holding her hand a lot longer than was necessary, not that she minded, of course, but she could feel her face grow hot.  He seemed to realize it too and released her hand, almost apologetically.

“Is this your first time in Edinburgh?” he asked, after clearing his throat.

“It’s my first time in Scotland.”

“How long are you here for?”

“I’m here for another two weeks.  I’m here for the International Fashion Festival and after that I’m off to Glasgow to check out the boutiques.  Then it’s back to London.”

“If you’re not busy tomorrow, I’d like to take you out for lunch and then on a tour around the city.”

She couldn’t believe it.  He wanted to take her out to lunch and show her around Edinburgh.  “I’d like that,” she said.  “I’ll get a chance to try your national dish.”

He laughed.   “I’ll take you to best place where they serve Haggis,” he promised.

“It’s a deal.”  Not only was he handsome but he was really friendly and easygoing.  She felt very relaxed with him and was looking forward to seeing him the next day.  She wrote down the name of the hotel where she was staying and handed it to him.  “Bye.”

“See you tomorrow, Holly.”  Oh, how good her name sounded in the Scottish accent, she thought as she walked away.  She made a mental note to thank Margo for assigning her to the photo shoot here in Scotland instead to the one in Paris.

Slide1

Sources:  Culture Trip; Edinburgh International Fashion Festival

The Vicar’s Daughter

After she had put some distance between Mr. Rivers’ property and herself, Dora stopped to examine her torn dress.  She was panting and her heart was racing.  She was lucky that all she suffered from her foolish decision to take a shortcut through Mr. Rivers’ property was a torn skirt.  He had set his savage dogs on her, “That will learn you to trespass on my property,” he yelled as she ran for her life with the two beasts in hot pursuit.  How she managed to escape the jaws of death, she didn’t know.  Perhaps it was the Lord showing her mercy.

What a mean man that Mr. Rivers was, she thought.  He was rude and always threatening to loose his dogs on anyone who dared to venture on his property.  She knew it was foolish of her to cut through his property but it would be getting dark soon and she wanted to get back to the vicarage before it did.

She had to catch her breath first before continuing on through the woods.  The dress was ruined.  Sighing, she sat down and thought of how she was going to explain to her parents what had happened.  As the daughter of the Vicar she should have respected Mr. Rivers and stayed off his property.  And she had always been taught not to think badly of people, no matter how miserable they were.  Still, Mr. Rivers irked her so.  She would have to pray to God about him.

She sat there for a while, thinking and then the setting sun reminded her that she had to head back home.  As she rose to her feet, she started when she heard the sound of an approaching horse.  She glanced around the clearing and her eyes settled on a lone rider coming toward her.  Had Mr. Rivers sent the law after her for trespassing on his property?  As the rider got closer, she recognized him.  It was James Hiller of Mannerly Manor where her cousin Mabel worked as a lady’s maid to his mother.

This was the first time she had seen him in these parts.  She stood erect, concealing the tear in her skirt as best as she could.

He drew to a halt beside her and dismounted the horse.  He bowed and she curtsied.  “Miss Baker,” he said.  “What are you doing out here?”

“I went for a walk and was on my way home when I heard you approaching.”

“It is getting dark.  Please permit me to take you home.”

The thought of sitting on the horse terrified her.  “Oh, no, Mr. Hiller, I would rather walk.”

He smiled.  “Nelson will not harm you, I assure you.”

“Nelson?” She looked at the horse and then at him in surprise.

“I named him Nelson after my uncle who taught me how to ride.  Come, let me help you up.  You needn’t be afraid, Miss Baker.  Nelson is a gentle beast.”

Still not convinced but because of his persistence, she allowed him to lift her up onto the fine steed’s back and then he mounted.  She held onto him for dear life as they galloped through the woods.  She was relieved when they reached the vicarage.

He got down and helped her down.  His hands were still on her waist as she tried to steady herself.   Her face was flushed and her heart was racing.  She didn’t know if the ride was the cause or his nearness.  Their eyes held for what seemed like an eon before he released her and took hold of the reins.  And she stepped back.   “Thank you, Mr. Hiller.”

“It was my pleasure, Miss Baker.” There was a brief pause.  “May I call upon you tomorrow afternoon?”

Her eyes widened.  “Call upon me?”

“Yes, I would like to see you tomorrow.”

“All right.  Tomorrow then.”

“Good evening, Miss Baker.”

“Good evening, Mr. Hiller.”

He bowed before he mounted the horse and rode off.

She gazed after him, hardly able to believe that he wanted to call upon her–the Vicar’s daughter.  She hadn’t expected to see him that evening or that he would even stop and talk to her.  She had Mr. Rivers to thank for that.  If he hadn’t run her off his property, she would not have stopped in the place where Mr. Hiller came upon her.

Laughing, her eyes filled with delight, she gathered up her skirt and ran to the house, anxious to tell her mother that a certain gentleman would be coming by for a visit tomorrow afternoon.

A-Pensive-Girl,-C.1865