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- Story Listed as: Fiction For Adults
- Theme: Love stories / Romance
- Subject: Love / Romance / Dating
- Published: 10/30/2021
The Church was silent. Not empty. Silent. Eight hundred people sitting in an uncomfortable silence.
The Wedding was already an hour late. Some kids stirred a little, getting shushed almost immediately by a worried look from their mothers. Nervous queries were whispered among the adults. The silence stretched out. Nobody left.
*****
She handed the note to her mother. She knew the right thing to do was to hand it to him herself. She just couldn’t do it. It would break his heart. She couldn’t bear to watch his world crumble out from under her. Her mother, still dressed for the Wedding, sat across from her at the table. Her eyes were wet and shiny. Her voice soft with the weight of the duty she held in her hand. A duty she would have never dreamed of having to do. Delivering an envelope to a young man she had known his whole life. An envelope that would destroy him.
“Are you sure?”
Her daughter didn’t trust her voice. She just nodded once.
*****
She drove with her best friend in absolute silence. Both lost in thought at the tangled mess one was leaving behind.
“He loves you, you know.”
She nodded.
“He always has. I mean, Christ Cindy, you two have been together since First Grade. You asked him to wait until you both finished college before you got married. Hell, we all thought you would get married the day we all graduated from High School. Heck Mitchell and Sarah delayed their enlistments in the Marines just in case you got married that summer after High School.”
A single tear leaked out of the side of the still silent young woman.
“He waited. Four years. Hell, sixteen if you count from First Grade, and I think he would have married you back then if he could have.”
Her best friends words pounded against her decision with power. Not enough power to change her mind. But enough to make her realize what she was doing to a person who only loved her…and that would be enough for him. Not for her. She wanted more. More life. More travel. More adventure. More of everything.
“I just hope you know what you are doing.”
Cindy looked out the window the rest of the long way to the airport. Never saying a word.
*****
He held the note in his hands. He looked up at the woman who would have been his Mother in Law. He saw the pain in her eyes. The disappointment was evident. Not at him, at her own daughter. He stood up and hugged her. She let it all out. He comforted her with an embrace that let her know it would be alright. Not now, but someday. She laid her head on his shoulder. Drawing forgiveness from his very being. After a while he let her go.
“I should tell the Folks out there myself. They need to hear it from me.”
The Mother wiped her eyes and smeared makeup from her face with the handkerchief he gave her. She straightened up her hair, fixed her scarf a bit, and walked out into the Church. He followed her out and seated her in the first row of pews. He motioned for the Groomsmen, and Bridesmaids to take a seat. Waving the Preacher down to his seat too.
He looked at the packed church. Almost every one over the age of ten, in their little town of eleven hundred people was present. He scanned them all, grateful that they had come to share his day. His joy. Knowing that in a moment, they would share his pain. He began to read the note he had been given. When he finished, men who had faced War broke down unashamedly in tears. Women held crying teen and preteen children, their own eyes wet with witnessing a heart being broken, no…no….shattered.
After he read the note that explained why she couldn’t marry him, why she had to leave to go to the big city, find a bigger life, a way to grow, he added a few words of his own. Words that stayed etched in the minds and hearts of everyone there:
“She was brave enough to fly. Please, wish her well.”
On the plane, Cindy sat without speaking. Tears streamed down her face. She was twenty one years old.
*****
She was one of the most powerful women in New York City. Her Fiftieth Birthday Party was attended by the Cream of the Crop of High Society. Most of the A list names were household names across the country. She sat on the balcony of her apartment sipping on a glass of wine as she looked out over the fog hanging over Central Park.
A man a full twenty years younger came out and joined her. She smiled as he sat on the edge of the railing. The forty story drop to the ground apparently did not phase him at all. He shifted his weight signaling that he was about to ask something…she waited.
“So, I know you and I were just an item for a New York Minute (she laughed) but why are you punishing me like this?”
She set her wine down. Confused.
“Punishing you?”
He looked around, then made eye contact again.
“Look, I know we had a good time in the sack. And I know you are the Head of the whole damn Network. But just because it didn’t work out because you are so old (she flinched at that one), that is no reason to send me out to some podunk town in the MidWest to do a fluff piece on a town no one has ever heard of.”
This time he looked at her with the shark hungry look she remembered on her own face many years ago when she sat across from her first Boss…with about the same age difference. They had both used each other for their own reasons, just as she had used this driven young man. But she was still confused.
“What podunk town, and what fluff piece?”
He was surprised. She never forgot a single detail …ever. Hard but fair is what most folks said about her. Especially hard. He thought he had crossed her somehow…now…well…he wasn’t so sure.
“You mean you don’t know? I thought you were mad at me.”
She giggled. It wasn’t a pleasant sound.
“If I was mad at you, you wouldn’t have a job. And you wouldn’t be able to get another one. Not in this town. “
He shivered at the certainty in her voice. So she wasn’t the one who gave him this crap assignment.
“Oh. Well, that’s good to know…I guess.”
“What is this fluff piece you are talking about. Must be Jane’s idea. She always is looking out for the Common Man…or woman.”
His eyes sparked. Yeah…it must have been Jane. The Chief Editor.
“Well…?”
She waved her wine glass to include an answer.
“It is some small town in Iowa…Bedford I think.”
He didn’t know her well enough, nobody did, to see the tension spring up in her posture when he said: “Bedford.”
“Go on.”
“Well, apparently about a thousand folks live there…”
“Eleven hundred six to be exact.”
He stared at her…how in the world did she know that. She didn’t explain the interruption…so he kept talking. It was scary how much she knew.
“Okay, eleven hundred and six, to be exact (smiling at her…no smile in return). Anyways there seem to be some anomalies about this town. Statistical stuff that must have caught Jane’s eye.”
One eyebrow shot up, her wine glass dangled almost forgotten in her hand.
“Statistical stuff?”
He shrugged.
“Yes, statistical stuff. Weird little things that she says need looking into. For example, every single person has graduated from High School. There hasn’t been a suicide in over thirty years…and strangely enough, none of the young people under thirty have left or moved out.”
“That is a strange set of Statistics.”
I know, I had to look it all up before I get there. Statistically, the town should be shrinking not growing a tiny bit. There should have been about a Suicide every three years. That’s the National Average for a town of a Thousand or so people. And no other town in the State has a one hundred percent graduation rate from High School. Hell, I doubt any other Town in the whole dam country can say that.”
“Hmmm.”
That was all the reply he got. They talked some more. They had some more wine. She asked him to stay. They made love - his youth and strength making up for his lack of both depth and understanding. She lay awake awash in memories long after he left.
When she left for work the next day, she had buried her thoughts in busy. Soon, they were forgotten.
*****
She passed the lunch room. She paused. It had been months since her Fiftieth Birthday Party. And months since she last saw that young man who was chasing a career - and climbing on her to climb up. He looked pensive. Thoughtful. Quizzical. None of the looks she had ever seen on him before. So she broke his reverie, startling him enough to make him squeak.
“Oh, sorry. I was just thinking.”
“Always a good sign.”
He toasted her with an imaginary drink.
“About what? Might I ask.”
“Well, Jane is after me to finish that fluff piece on that Town she had me fly too.”
Cindy’s eyes darkened. There was something different in the young man’s voice.
“Well, she is a good Editor, and she expects a well written piece.Even if it is - as you say: about a podunk town in Iowa.”
“Yeah, well, that’s just it. Have you ever met a Saint?”
Cindy was taken aback. The sudden change in subject was to abrupt, even for her. Who often used quick subject changes to keep other off balance. She didn’t appreciate it being used against her. She got iron in her voice. Iron he never even noticed. He was still lost in thought…and speaking out loud.
“No. Not that I know of. “
“Well, do you believe in Saints?”
Cindy laughed.
“I believe they are in the same category as the Loch Ness Monster, Big Foot and Lipstick Lesbians. They might exist, but I never met one.”
“Well, I met one.”
“Where?”
“In that little town in Iowa.”
Cindy felt someone step on her grave.
“Does this Saint have a name?”
“Yeah. Mr. Ditch.”
A part of Cindy let out a long slow breath. She didn’t know any Mr. Ditch. And she knew everyone in that small town.
“Have you written anything yet?”
“No. That’s what has Jane so pissed at me. I don’t think the story should be written. The story isn’t about a Podunk Town in Iowa with weird statistical anomalies. The real Story is Mr. Ditch. I swear that guy is a Saint. He is the story. But I won’t write it. It would be a sin.”
She looked at him with a deeper respect. Who knew he had any heart, or standards. The biggest most interesting story to ever come along, a Saint for crying out loud, who wouldn’t want to read that story. It could win a Pulitzer Prize.
“Get Jane, come to my Office. We need to talk.”
*****
It was midnight before she left the Office. She went straight to the Wine rack. Poured herself a small glass and marched out onto her balcony. She sat in her favorite chair. Her thoughts churning so much she never even glanced at the View she had fought so hard to earn. It couldn’t be. But it was.
“Mr. Ditch.”
She harrumphed into her wine making little bubbles pop up and out, stinging her eyes. Eyes already stung with tears.
As the young man told both Jane and Cindy about the week he spent in Bedford, it became apparent that his judgement was correct. Mr. Ditch was the story, not the anomalies. Mr. Ditch turned out to be real. Just his name was false. His name was a nick name…one that stuck. The young reporter had been told that some thirty years ago, the poor guy had been ditched on his Wedding Day. Ditched became Ditch. And no one in town calls him anything but “Mr. Ditch.”
Cindy’s stomach had rolled at that revelation.
The young man laid a litany of kindnesses that Mr. Ditch had performed over the years. How he had talked teenagers out of their angst ridden impulses. How he had kept couple together long enough to not need his help. How he seemed to breath love and hope into any room, person, or place he was. The man made you feel safe.
Jane wanted to send him back to get a much longer and deeper piece. Maybe with a camera crew and a more seasoned TV Anchor to do the Interview. The young man craving a career could write the Copy. But he was having none of it.
“You leave that man alone! He doesn’t need to be someone’s table talk, or coffee conversation. Don’t you understand? That man is real. He is the gentlest, kindest, most giving man I have ever met. I won’t let you commercialize him in any way. Let him be.”
Jane and Cindy both looked at each other. Each mistaking the other’s look for understanding.
“So, you think he is a real Saint”
“Yes. If he isn’t. Well then there aren’t any.”
“Did you see any miracles?”
The young man grew irate.
“Weren’t you listening Jane? The whole damn town is a miracle. That man got ditched by his bride, whoever that bitch is, she should rot in hell, and he forgave her! You tell me how someone gets their heart broken and heals an entire town. You need a miracle? Just go watch him encourage a kid to keep in school. Watch him talk to a young mother teetering on the edge of overwhelm. Watch him counsel older - supposedly wiser- men and women- on how to keep their marriage together, or heal a gulf between kids and parents.
Jesus, the whole town is happy, save, loving. And all because of one man. You need a miracle? The whole damn town is your miracle. No suicides, everyone cares, people embrace education, growth and risk with the same simple grace he does. He doesn’t set an example, he is the example. I never believed in Saints or any of that Holy man crap. But I swear he is one.
Just talking to him is like having a salad bar for your soul. Everything is good, healthy for you, and delicious. He makes you feel special. He did me. “
There was a long moment each lost in their thoughts. Only one going back as far as First Grade.
Jane spoke up:
“So do we kill this story, or follow it up?”
The young man spoke first.
“Kill it. I will quit if you even try and write it. And I will do everything in my power to keep you from outing him. Even if it means outing you two!”
“Whoa, get off your high horse there pretty boy. No reason to threaten anyone. I guess you didn’t learn as much from him as you thought.”
The young man grew ashamed. She was right. He wouldn’t have reacted like that. He made up his mind.
“I quit.”
He said it softly. But it weighed in the air he left behind. As solid a statement as either woman had ever heard. It was filled with substance.
Jane spoke up again.
“I think Mr. Ditch has a disciple.”
Cindy looked over at her.
“Maybe he just has a friend.”
“Touche.”
*****
The plane touched down. It was a thirty five mile drive to the little Podunk Town in Iowa. A best friend from thirty years ago called in a favor.
“Hello Cindy, I was surprised to get your call. You look splendid! What’s a big city girl like you doing coming home to your roots? Or just slumming?”
Cindy smiled. Her best friend for the first twenty one years of her life hadn’t changed one bit. Oh sure, she had silver hair now, a pleasant country plumpness, and she wore glasses, but she was still as direct and honest as she remembered.
“No. I came back to see if Mr. Ditch is who I think he is.
Her best friend started to glow with hope.
“He always loved you, you know.”
They drove the thirty miles in a silence only real friends can share…or tolerate.
Her best friend opened the car door. Cindy was timid in a little girl way. So many what if’s danced around her head she could’t think straight. Her best friend shooed her to the door.
“Go ahead. Ring the Bell!”
She did.
The door opened. Her breath caught. His eyes were wide and trusting. Standing next to the car, her best friend burst into tears. She had seen the look those two exchanged. She got back in her car and drove away wiping the tears of joy away with one hand.
Behind her, a door closed.
Two hearts opened.
Mr. Ditch.(Kevin Hughes)
The Church was silent. Not empty. Silent. Eight hundred people sitting in an uncomfortable silence.
The Wedding was already an hour late. Some kids stirred a little, getting shushed almost immediately by a worried look from their mothers. Nervous queries were whispered among the adults. The silence stretched out. Nobody left.
*****
She handed the note to her mother. She knew the right thing to do was to hand it to him herself. She just couldn’t do it. It would break his heart. She couldn’t bear to watch his world crumble out from under her. Her mother, still dressed for the Wedding, sat across from her at the table. Her eyes were wet and shiny. Her voice soft with the weight of the duty she held in her hand. A duty she would have never dreamed of having to do. Delivering an envelope to a young man she had known his whole life. An envelope that would destroy him.
“Are you sure?”
Her daughter didn’t trust her voice. She just nodded once.
*****
She drove with her best friend in absolute silence. Both lost in thought at the tangled mess one was leaving behind.
“He loves you, you know.”
She nodded.
“He always has. I mean, Christ Cindy, you two have been together since First Grade. You asked him to wait until you both finished college before you got married. Hell, we all thought you would get married the day we all graduated from High School. Heck Mitchell and Sarah delayed their enlistments in the Marines just in case you got married that summer after High School.”
A single tear leaked out of the side of the still silent young woman.
“He waited. Four years. Hell, sixteen if you count from First Grade, and I think he would have married you back then if he could have.”
Her best friends words pounded against her decision with power. Not enough power to change her mind. But enough to make her realize what she was doing to a person who only loved her…and that would be enough for him. Not for her. She wanted more. More life. More travel. More adventure. More of everything.
“I just hope you know what you are doing.”
Cindy looked out the window the rest of the long way to the airport. Never saying a word.
*****
He held the note in his hands. He looked up at the woman who would have been his Mother in Law. He saw the pain in her eyes. The disappointment was evident. Not at him, at her own daughter. He stood up and hugged her. She let it all out. He comforted her with an embrace that let her know it would be alright. Not now, but someday. She laid her head on his shoulder. Drawing forgiveness from his very being. After a while he let her go.
“I should tell the Folks out there myself. They need to hear it from me.”
The Mother wiped her eyes and smeared makeup from her face with the handkerchief he gave her. She straightened up her hair, fixed her scarf a bit, and walked out into the Church. He followed her out and seated her in the first row of pews. He motioned for the Groomsmen, and Bridesmaids to take a seat. Waving the Preacher down to his seat too.
He looked at the packed church. Almost every one over the age of ten, in their little town of eleven hundred people was present. He scanned them all, grateful that they had come to share his day. His joy. Knowing that in a moment, they would share his pain. He began to read the note he had been given. When he finished, men who had faced War broke down unashamedly in tears. Women held crying teen and preteen children, their own eyes wet with witnessing a heart being broken, no…no….shattered.
After he read the note that explained why she couldn’t marry him, why she had to leave to go to the big city, find a bigger life, a way to grow, he added a few words of his own. Words that stayed etched in the minds and hearts of everyone there:
“She was brave enough to fly. Please, wish her well.”
On the plane, Cindy sat without speaking. Tears streamed down her face. She was twenty one years old.
*****
She was one of the most powerful women in New York City. Her Fiftieth Birthday Party was attended by the Cream of the Crop of High Society. Most of the A list names were household names across the country. She sat on the balcony of her apartment sipping on a glass of wine as she looked out over the fog hanging over Central Park.
A man a full twenty years younger came out and joined her. She smiled as he sat on the edge of the railing. The forty story drop to the ground apparently did not phase him at all. He shifted his weight signaling that he was about to ask something…she waited.
“So, I know you and I were just an item for a New York Minute (she laughed) but why are you punishing me like this?”
She set her wine down. Confused.
“Punishing you?”
He looked around, then made eye contact again.
“Look, I know we had a good time in the sack. And I know you are the Head of the whole damn Network. But just because it didn’t work out because you are so old (she flinched at that one), that is no reason to send me out to some podunk town in the MidWest to do a fluff piece on a town no one has ever heard of.”
This time he looked at her with the shark hungry look she remembered on her own face many years ago when she sat across from her first Boss…with about the same age difference. They had both used each other for their own reasons, just as she had used this driven young man. But she was still confused.
“What podunk town, and what fluff piece?”
He was surprised. She never forgot a single detail …ever. Hard but fair is what most folks said about her. Especially hard. He thought he had crossed her somehow…now…well…he wasn’t so sure.
“You mean you don’t know? I thought you were mad at me.”
She giggled. It wasn’t a pleasant sound.
“If I was mad at you, you wouldn’t have a job. And you wouldn’t be able to get another one. Not in this town. “
He shivered at the certainty in her voice. So she wasn’t the one who gave him this crap assignment.
“Oh. Well, that’s good to know…I guess.”
“What is this fluff piece you are talking about. Must be Jane’s idea. She always is looking out for the Common Man…or woman.”
His eyes sparked. Yeah…it must have been Jane. The Chief Editor.
“Well…?”
She waved her wine glass to include an answer.
“It is some small town in Iowa…Bedford I think.”
He didn’t know her well enough, nobody did, to see the tension spring up in her posture when he said: “Bedford.”
“Go on.”
“Well, apparently about a thousand folks live there…”
“Eleven hundred six to be exact.”
He stared at her…how in the world did she know that. She didn’t explain the interruption…so he kept talking. It was scary how much she knew.
“Okay, eleven hundred and six, to be exact (smiling at her…no smile in return). Anyways there seem to be some anomalies about this town. Statistical stuff that must have caught Jane’s eye.”
One eyebrow shot up, her wine glass dangled almost forgotten in her hand.
“Statistical stuff?”
He shrugged.
“Yes, statistical stuff. Weird little things that she says need looking into. For example, every single person has graduated from High School. There hasn’t been a suicide in over thirty years…and strangely enough, none of the young people under thirty have left or moved out.”
“That is a strange set of Statistics.”
I know, I had to look it all up before I get there. Statistically, the town should be shrinking not growing a tiny bit. There should have been about a Suicide every three years. That’s the National Average for a town of a Thousand or so people. And no other town in the State has a one hundred percent graduation rate from High School. Hell, I doubt any other Town in the whole dam country can say that.”
“Hmmm.”
That was all the reply he got. They talked some more. They had some more wine. She asked him to stay. They made love - his youth and strength making up for his lack of both depth and understanding. She lay awake awash in memories long after he left.
When she left for work the next day, she had buried her thoughts in busy. Soon, they were forgotten.
*****
She passed the lunch room. She paused. It had been months since her Fiftieth Birthday Party. And months since she last saw that young man who was chasing a career - and climbing on her to climb up. He looked pensive. Thoughtful. Quizzical. None of the looks she had ever seen on him before. So she broke his reverie, startling him enough to make him squeak.
“Oh, sorry. I was just thinking.”
“Always a good sign.”
He toasted her with an imaginary drink.
“About what? Might I ask.”
“Well, Jane is after me to finish that fluff piece on that Town she had me fly too.”
Cindy’s eyes darkened. There was something different in the young man’s voice.
“Well, she is a good Editor, and she expects a well written piece.Even if it is - as you say: about a podunk town in Iowa.”
“Yeah, well, that’s just it. Have you ever met a Saint?”
Cindy was taken aback. The sudden change in subject was to abrupt, even for her. Who often used quick subject changes to keep other off balance. She didn’t appreciate it being used against her. She got iron in her voice. Iron he never even noticed. He was still lost in thought…and speaking out loud.
“No. Not that I know of. “
“Well, do you believe in Saints?”
Cindy laughed.
“I believe they are in the same category as the Loch Ness Monster, Big Foot and Lipstick Lesbians. They might exist, but I never met one.”
“Well, I met one.”
“Where?”
“In that little town in Iowa.”
Cindy felt someone step on her grave.
“Does this Saint have a name?”
“Yeah. Mr. Ditch.”
A part of Cindy let out a long slow breath. She didn’t know any Mr. Ditch. And she knew everyone in that small town.
“Have you written anything yet?”
“No. That’s what has Jane so pissed at me. I don’t think the story should be written. The story isn’t about a Podunk Town in Iowa with weird statistical anomalies. The real Story is Mr. Ditch. I swear that guy is a Saint. He is the story. But I won’t write it. It would be a sin.”
She looked at him with a deeper respect. Who knew he had any heart, or standards. The biggest most interesting story to ever come along, a Saint for crying out loud, who wouldn’t want to read that story. It could win a Pulitzer Prize.
“Get Jane, come to my Office. We need to talk.”
*****
It was midnight before she left the Office. She went straight to the Wine rack. Poured herself a small glass and marched out onto her balcony. She sat in her favorite chair. Her thoughts churning so much she never even glanced at the View she had fought so hard to earn. It couldn’t be. But it was.
“Mr. Ditch.”
She harrumphed into her wine making little bubbles pop up and out, stinging her eyes. Eyes already stung with tears.
As the young man told both Jane and Cindy about the week he spent in Bedford, it became apparent that his judgement was correct. Mr. Ditch was the story, not the anomalies. Mr. Ditch turned out to be real. Just his name was false. His name was a nick name…one that stuck. The young reporter had been told that some thirty years ago, the poor guy had been ditched on his Wedding Day. Ditched became Ditch. And no one in town calls him anything but “Mr. Ditch.”
Cindy’s stomach had rolled at that revelation.
The young man laid a litany of kindnesses that Mr. Ditch had performed over the years. How he had talked teenagers out of their angst ridden impulses. How he had kept couple together long enough to not need his help. How he seemed to breath love and hope into any room, person, or place he was. The man made you feel safe.
Jane wanted to send him back to get a much longer and deeper piece. Maybe with a camera crew and a more seasoned TV Anchor to do the Interview. The young man craving a career could write the Copy. But he was having none of it.
“You leave that man alone! He doesn’t need to be someone’s table talk, or coffee conversation. Don’t you understand? That man is real. He is the gentlest, kindest, most giving man I have ever met. I won’t let you commercialize him in any way. Let him be.”
Jane and Cindy both looked at each other. Each mistaking the other’s look for understanding.
“So, you think he is a real Saint”
“Yes. If he isn’t. Well then there aren’t any.”
“Did you see any miracles?”
The young man grew irate.
“Weren’t you listening Jane? The whole damn town is a miracle. That man got ditched by his bride, whoever that bitch is, she should rot in hell, and he forgave her! You tell me how someone gets their heart broken and heals an entire town. You need a miracle? Just go watch him encourage a kid to keep in school. Watch him talk to a young mother teetering on the edge of overwhelm. Watch him counsel older - supposedly wiser- men and women- on how to keep their marriage together, or heal a gulf between kids and parents.
Jesus, the whole town is happy, save, loving. And all because of one man. You need a miracle? The whole damn town is your miracle. No suicides, everyone cares, people embrace education, growth and risk with the same simple grace he does. He doesn’t set an example, he is the example. I never believed in Saints or any of that Holy man crap. But I swear he is one.
Just talking to him is like having a salad bar for your soul. Everything is good, healthy for you, and delicious. He makes you feel special. He did me. “
There was a long moment each lost in their thoughts. Only one going back as far as First Grade.
Jane spoke up:
“So do we kill this story, or follow it up?”
The young man spoke first.
“Kill it. I will quit if you even try and write it. And I will do everything in my power to keep you from outing him. Even if it means outing you two!”
“Whoa, get off your high horse there pretty boy. No reason to threaten anyone. I guess you didn’t learn as much from him as you thought.”
The young man grew ashamed. She was right. He wouldn’t have reacted like that. He made up his mind.
“I quit.”
He said it softly. But it weighed in the air he left behind. As solid a statement as either woman had ever heard. It was filled with substance.
Jane spoke up again.
“I think Mr. Ditch has a disciple.”
Cindy looked over at her.
“Maybe he just has a friend.”
“Touche.”
*****
The plane touched down. It was a thirty five mile drive to the little Podunk Town in Iowa. A best friend from thirty years ago called in a favor.
“Hello Cindy, I was surprised to get your call. You look splendid! What’s a big city girl like you doing coming home to your roots? Or just slumming?”
Cindy smiled. Her best friend for the first twenty one years of her life hadn’t changed one bit. Oh sure, she had silver hair now, a pleasant country plumpness, and she wore glasses, but she was still as direct and honest as she remembered.
“No. I came back to see if Mr. Ditch is who I think he is.
Her best friend started to glow with hope.
“He always loved you, you know.”
They drove the thirty miles in a silence only real friends can share…or tolerate.
Her best friend opened the car door. Cindy was timid in a little girl way. So many what if’s danced around her head she could’t think straight. Her best friend shooed her to the door.
“Go ahead. Ring the Bell!”
She did.
The door opened. Her breath caught. His eyes were wide and trusting. Standing next to the car, her best friend burst into tears. She had seen the look those two exchanged. She got back in her car and drove away wiping the tears of joy away with one hand.
Behind her, a door closed.
Two hearts opened.
Lillian Kazmierczak
10/31/2021This my favorite story of yours...so far. I'm was nearly in tears when she left. This a really great piece of writing!
ReplyHelp Us Understand What's Happening
Kevin Hughes
10/31/2021Thanks Lillian, it is right up there with my own favorite of my own stories. I like "Daycare" , and " while you were sleeping" as two of my stories that I think are as good as this one. Three out of nine hundred and some, that's not bad. LOL!
Smiles, Kevin
Help Us Understand What's Happening
Help Us Understand What's Happening
Help Us Understand What's Happening
Martha Huett
10/30/2021You have a real way of pulling readers in from the very start and make them want to keep reading. Cindy, the dear girl, has a heaping helping of love coming her way, deserved or not. Great story Kevin. Loved it! :) PS. Mr. Ditch?! Lol great title, great name
ReplyHelp Us Understand What's Happening
Kevin Hughes
10/30/2021Thank you Martha,
Yeah I kind of like the story myself. LOL and Mr. ditch came to me as I was writing. Sometimes you get lucky like that.
Smiles Kevin and thank you very much
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