A Little Candlelight Romance(arlene hartzell) A.A. Hartzell


A LITTLE CANDLELIGHT ROMANCE

The first time he saw her it was at a distance. She was tall, willowy, and had a golden aura. He felt an instant attraction. They didn’t reside that far apart, but he was unable to tell her his true feelings, life had closed in on him, Nick felt truly boxed.

That same day in the Mercantile Store Annalisa became aware of him, as well. He looked solid, stoic, and she felt a kindred spirit; the magnetism was inescapable.

Nick hung out with Joe when he couldn’t be with Annalisa. Joe was a serial womanizer. Jim swore to Nick each time that this girl was the ‘one’: one-after-the-other that is. Joe was a real rake.

Nick and Annalisa met whenever they could. Together they felt complete. Apart they felt alone… so alone.

Annalisa heard someone calling her name, and after that day their love life was over. It was hopeless to have ever wished for more, or to have planned a future.

“It’s over,” they repeated separately, "over". Nick knew he still lived, even if he felt dead.

Annalisa lost hope. What they once had was gone—dead and over. Everything seemed hopeless.

The hours turned into days, and the days turned into weeks. They each became older and shorter. They kept themselves alive on unfulfilled dreams and memories held dear: the wistful longings of what could have been. Never had they felt more alone, even when surrounded by kin.

As the year wore on, the outside world turned chilly. The golden rays of autumn light slanted between tree trunks and branches, washing the forest floor in a mosaic of reds, oranges, and yellows. The leaves, like unpopular plain Jane’s, hung fixedly and alone.

Annalisa listened to the opera ‘Aida’ to pass the time; music had become her opiate of choice. Her household was serene and angry words were seldom spoken. Was she happy? No.
She was alone.


Nick resided in a large, expansive home. His respite from the silence within was the ticking of the clocks, the barking of the dogs, and the sounds intruding indoors from the street outside. Sounds were distractions he craved. Noise numbed his loneliness.

Three large pumpkins sat slowly collapsing in his entry way and grinned in unison an endless, witless, wearisome welcome. “Moronic pumpkins,” thought Nick aloud. Tonight the moon’s pumpkin-like face peered though Nick’s window and he felt comfort in knowing it, too, suffered in solitude. He hoped Annalisa was looking upon the face of the moon as well and seeing the man staring sadly back, sharing in their cold loneliness.

Silent Night played softly in Annalisa’s house, heralding the Christmas holidays. Gifts were being wrapped. The crinkle of gift paper and the sound of ribbon being teased into curls filled the air, along with the smells of cinnamon and vanilla wafting from the oven. From the fresh cut incense cedar tree, to the steaming cookies aligned on wire mesh racks, Annalisa’s home felt, smelled, and sounded like Christmas.

Grandmother passed away in Nick’s large home. A large estate sale and yard sign sprung up overnight, as sudden and unexpected as a mushroom.

Annalisa heard a car drive up. Then the front door opened.
“Mom, guess what I have, you’ll never guess!”
“Honey, I thought you were going to the mall.”
“Nope, I never made it.”
“Patrice, I don’t have time to play games, I’ve gotta finish these cookies, so I can get the chicken into the oven.”
“Anyways Mom, you know the big house over on 23rd Street? They’re having an enormous garage sale!”
“This time of year?” Annalisa’s mother, Lilly, exclaimed.
“Yeah, there were tons of cars parked there and great stuff all the way to the sidewalk.”
“Let me guess, you stopped and bought a Van Gogh for five bucks and we’re all going to be rich as Bill Gates.”
“Well maybe—who knows—‘cause I got this sealed box, and it’s really heavy, and the people said the contents were worth two hundred bucks, but it only cost me seven dollars. It was marked for ten but I talked them into taking less. Can you believe it Mom?!”
Lilly sighed, “Now I know how Jack’s Mother felt when Jack came home without the family cow and was instead carrying a hand full of magic beans.”
“Mom you’re totally no fun!’”

That last exclamation, along with the sadness in Patty’s eyes, touched a soft spot in Lilly’s heart. She remembered being young, and having joyful enthusiasm quickly quashed by cynical parents.

“Come back in here, Honey, and let’s see what’s in your treasure box.”

Together, they put the box in the window seat. After cutting away the silver duct tape, they pulled the cardboard flaps open. Inside was a German beer stein, a turquoise electric hand mixer, three A & W plastic mugs, and an imitation brass candelabra. Last was a box of assorted candles. They were the short, off-white utilitarian kind.

“Got a good deal, didn’t I Mom!”
“Sure Honey, I can always use more candles.”


It was Christmas Eve. The family had finished dinner and had settled by the fireplace. Annalisa’s dad was lighting the twelve different candles arranged upon the mantle, some of which were those newly acquired from the garage sale. Behind the candles hung a large mirror; its glass beveled with a gilded and ornately carved edge. The flickering reflections of the candles in the glass mesmerized all. The tall tapers, the squats, the rounds, the flambeaus and the tiny tea lights all seemed to take living form and dance with spirit within the mirror’s reflection.

Staring into the candlelit reflections, Annalisa suddenly gasped: within the mirages of images, Nick’s face smiled out at her. Annalisa stared unbelieving. At last they were together, and all was as it should be! His smiling face reflected back at her the same love she felt in return. Her heart felt as though it might break with joy—just when she’d given up all hope of ever seeing Nick, here he was beside her!

Later, her mother began blowing out the mantle candles. She gave a little whistle followed by a happy laugh.

“Come here everyone you have to see this for yourself!”
“What is it?” the family asked in unison as they gathered around the mantle.
“Look at the wax beneath these two candles...”
“Which candles Mom?”
“The tall golden taper and one of the short candles from your garage sale box.”
“Oh, now I see what you’re looking at! Wow, that’s cool!”

Soon everyone in the family had seen the miracle on the mantle. The comments varied from “I can’t believe it!” and, “Wouldn’t believe it unless I saw it with my own two eyes!” to a simple, “Gosh,” or, “My goodness...” The younger children had to be lifted up to see, and being children they gently touched the candles.

What took place on our family’s fireplace mantle that Christmas will always be a mystery, for at the base of the tall, slender, golden taper and the large stoic white candle was a puddle of melted wax in the shape of a red heart!

You might ask how a gold candle and a white candle could make a red wax heart. Who knows? -And I don’t want to know, for I was the girl who brought home the stubby, off-white candle that special day. I still believe in love, despite the many years that have passed since my family witnessed the miracle on the mantle.

It is again Christmas and the tapered golden candle and the stoic white candle stand together on our mantle. They tilt toward one another and, when lit, their flames entwine and dance in harmony. My family voted on a name for each when the miracle first took place: ‘Annalisa’ for the tall taper and the short, stoic, off-white one became known as ‘Nick’. Somehow we felt the chosen names were perfect.

The two different sized candles tilt lovingly on our mantle still.

How do you know this is a true story? You don’t. You must put your faith in love.

I’ve named their story, “A little Candlelight Romance”. Come over and see them.

Anytime. Forever, and ever. Always.

The End.

---