Brigit O'Malley was a short, plump, late middle-aged, and passably pretty woman who lived alone in a rent adjusted seniors' high rise. Known for her seemingly outgoing laugh and smiling nature, she was in fact reclusive and shy, never letting anyone get too close. Only those closest to her were allowed admittance to the inner sanctums of her heart. She had survived years of emotional trauma from early childhood, learning early not to trust. But that hadn't stopped her from hoping that one day she'd know love for herself as a whole person and not only for being useful. Know what it was like to truly belong. As for romantic relationships, never having had one, she had given up on those many years before. Now all she wanted was to know simple acceptance.
Her hope had led to more broken hearts and dashed dreams than any one person should ever endure until she no longer believed in possibilities. While some tiny flicker of hope in her soul refused to die, the rest of her had all but given up, and she now lived a life of intense loneliness. After a lifetime of conditioning, she was accutely aware of her shortcomings in the eyes of others and often questioned why they couldn't see the good that she held inside. Good that she'd worked hard to recognize for herself.. But there didn't seem to be a market for it. Her intrinsic value remained in her usefulness.
She had lived in the high rise less than six months and while she had a terrible time keeping names straight she recognized many faces. She never failed to smile and wish everyone a good morning and a good day. She laughed often, perhaps too often as a way of protecting herself from hurt. Laughter was a shield against pain and only those who knew her well could recognize her genuine laugh from her forced. She believed herself safe. Her heart protected. But she would soon discover there was at least one person who saw through to the woman inside.
Valentine's Day dawned sunny and unseasonably warm. After a quick breakfast, she fed her cat, a 20 pound ball of black fur named Padawack, before showering and dressing in comfortable sweats. What was the point in dressing up when she wasn't going anywhere special?
It didn't take long to wash the few dishes she'd dirtied and tidy up the apartment. By the time she was finished it was time to take the elevator down to the lobby to check her mail. As usual, she greeted everyone she passed with a cheery smile and good morning. Most responded in kind, though there was one unfortunate resident who didn't seem capable of smiling much less returning one. Brigit was determined to kill her with kindness.
As she was inserting the key into the lock of her mailbox, a man entered to retrieve his own mail. She had never learned his name but she'd seen him often enough to feel he wasn't a total stranger. He was about average height and attractive, and obviously a few years younger than her. Either that or he was aging better than she was.
“Good morning,” she greeted him warmly.
He smiled gently in response, his soft brown eyes deep and oddly mysterious. He'd always struck her as having a kind soul.
“Good morning, Brigit. How are you this morning?”
“Hangin' tough.”
It was her standard reply, and one she was well known for.
After withdrawing the mail from the box, she closed and removed the key from the lock. She sent another smile his way as she started to leave.
“Have a great day!” She paused a moment. “And happy Valentine's Day!”
“You, too.”
Upon returning to the apartment, she sifted through the mail. Mixed in with the bills and credit card offers, she found a pink envelope with no return address. Curious, she opened the envelope and withdrew a card decorated resplendently with pink roses and the caption, 'Happy Valentine's Day to Someone Special.” Cocking her head to one side, she opened the card and read, “You are loved more than you can know.” There was no signature.
Flabbergasted, she again lifted the envelope and looked in vain for a name or address, or any clue as to who had sent it to her. But there was only her name and address, and the postmark proving that it was mailed yesterday from the local post office. As her surprise died it was replaced with warm puzzlement. Who had sent it to her? Of course her nimble mind started considering the possibilities, but try as she might she couldn't think of a single person who might have sent such a beautiful card with its lovely verse. No one had ever shown her any special attention.
Setting the card on her desk, she looked at it often as the day passed, still puzzled and titillated at what it might represent. Could she, Brigit O'Malley, really have a secret admirer?
Her medication always caused her to grow drowsy after lunch, so after enjoying a turkey sandwich, she laid down for a nap. She had been asleep for a little over an hour when the doorbell woke her from a pleasant dream. Padawack, who was curled contentedly on her belly, meowed indignantly as he was shoved aside.
“Oh hush,” Brigit hissed, then ran her hand through her short hair, not having to look into a mirror to know it was standing on end, as she hurried through the apartment. Her eyes widened when she opened the door. A young man sporting many piercings and tattoos stood there bearing a huge bouquet of pastel roses in a crystal vase.
“Miss O'Malley?”
“Y-yes?”
“Happy Valentine's Day.”
She stared at him in shock before coming to her senses.
“Um, thank you.” She accepted the vase. “Just a minute.”
After setting flowers on the coffee table, she withdrew a five dollar bill from her wallet and handed it to him.
“Thank you.”
He nodded and turned away as she closed the door.
Turning back, she stared in wonder at the bouquet. She counted two dozen roses, each a delicate pastel shade. Pink, peach, white, yellow, and cream, their fragrance was already scenting the room as she withdrew the small card from the envelope bearing her name and the name of the florist. The message was short and enigmatic.
“Meet me in the library at eight o'clock.”
Once again, no signature.
Brigit didn't know what to think. First the card and now this gorgeous arrangement. It would seem she did have a secret admirer, but who was it? She'd never had one, known or otherwise, and still couldn't think of a single candidate.
The rest of the day passed in an agony of confusion and suspense. At once curious and afraid, she was also aware of a surge of hope. She was a woman who had never known love and she was completely out of her depth with this development. Her eyes and hands kept returning to lovingly caress the delicate buds. Dare she open herself to the possibilities they hinted at?
As the hour approached, she showered and took care with her appearance. She had no illusions about being attractive. After all, many people over many years had made sure she understood she was no great beauty. But she chose a simple, pale blue dress and did the best she could with her hair and makeup. Looking at her hands she wished she'd been able to have a manicure done, but, oh well. If her admirer was that enamored of her, he probably wouldn't notice as long as her nails were clean.
After lightly spritzing herself with her favorite body spray, she returned to the living room nearly fifteen minutes before she was to go downstairs to the small library off the community room. Nerves kept her on edge and she alternately sat and paced as the minutes crept past. Finally, at two minutes before eight o'clock, she left the apartment and. took the elevator to the ground floor.
As she approached the community room, her steps slowed as her anxiety overtook her. She couldn't do this! Yes, she could! No, she couldn't!
She forced herself to continue.
The community room was empty, though the large screen television was still tuned to CNN. She could see the door to the library was open but wasn't able to see inside. When she finally reached the doorway, she looked inside and found herself looking into the soft brown eyes of the man in the mail room that morning.
“Oh! It's you!”
Her voice was a whisper of surprise and he smiled.
“Hello, Brigit.” He stepped forward and offered his hand. “Come in.”
Wordlessly she placed her hand in his and allowed him to guide her inside.
The library was small, lined on three sides with shelves reaching to mid height and filled with books of all genres. Inexpensive artwork hung on the walls and baskets of magazines were scattered on top of the shelves. A welcoming sofa and two chairs flanked a low coffee table. On top of the table was a silk plant, as well as a small plate of cheese and crackers, two wine glasses and a bottle of wine.
“I don't know what to say,” she murmured, “What? How?” She took a calming breath. “I didn't know you...”
He nodded.
“I know. But I hope it doesn't come as too much of a shock.”
“Well, actually, yes, it does.”
He motioned her to sit on one end of the sofa.
“I don't know why it should. I haven't been able to keep my eyes off of you since you moved in.”
“I never realized...”
“And I'm not the only one.”
Her mouth fell open.
“You're not?”
“Nope.”
She shook her head and didn't know what to say.
He took a seat on the opposite end of the couch.
“Would you like some wine?”
Suddenly she really wanted a drink.
“Yes, please.”
He poured a glass half full of white wine and handed it to her, before pouring himself one. She took a tentative sip. She usually didn't like white wine, finding it too dry. But this suited her taste buds perfectly.
“It's very good,” she declared with some surprise, “I don't normally like white wine but this is wonderful!”
“I'm glad you like it.”
There were a few moments of silence while she wrestled with shyness and chagrin.
“I'm so sorry,” she sighed, “You've done all of this but I don't remember your name.”
“That's because I've never given it to you.”
He extended his hand with a good natured smile.
“Jeremy Scott.”
She accepted his hand, expecting a shake. Instead he lifted it to his lips and brushed a kiss over her knuckles.
“Oh!”
“I've watched for an opportunity to know you better, but it never happened. I finally decided to take matters into my own hands.”
“I didn't know. Didn't realize...”
“No, I realize that.” His expression was serious as his eyes met hers. “Are you disappointed?”
“No! Oh, no. Just surprised.” She sighed before smiling shyly. “Thank you for the flowers. Were you the one who sent the card as well?”
“Guilty as charged.”
“Thank you.”
“You're welcome.”
Brigit sipped her wine and looked around the library. It was the first time she'd ever been inside. She rarely came down to the community room let alone visit the library.
“I never realized there were so many books in here.”
He nodded.
“Yes, there's quite a collection on many subjects. Do you like to read?”
She nodded with a smile.
“I love to.”
“Rumor has it that you're a writer.”
Her eyes widened.
“Really? I mean, I am, but I hadn't realized people knew.”
“Well, you know how it is. Everyone here knows just enough about each other to be dangerous.”
They chuckled and she finally began to relax. Maybe with the help of the wine.
“What do you do, Jeremy?”
“I'm a retired school teacher.”
“Really? What did you teach?”
“High school English.”
“I bet that was a challenge when it came to grading papers. What with the use of text abbreviations these days.”
He laughed.
“It was. Now teachers have to worry about submissions written with AI. I retired before that became a problem in my classes.” He shook his head. “No, the most serious problem I had was teaching students how to write in complete sentences using complete words.” He cocked his head to one side. “What kinds of things do you write?”
“Romantic sci-phi mostly, but also poetry and the occasional essay.”
“Have you published anything?”
“Yes. Self-published, but no best sellers.” She met his eyes, curiosity plain in hers. “Do you write?”
“A little. Not as much as I used to.”
“What genre?”
“I'm a civil war buff so I write magazine articles on that history.”
Finding common ground, the conversation flowed as the time passed. Brigit found herself relaxing and enjoying his company. Finally, someone turned the TV off and announced that they would be turning out the lights. By that time, most of the wine and all of the cheese and crackers were gone. Reluctantly they rose from the sofa. He took her hand in his and smiled.
“This has been lovely. I'm happy we finally had a chance to get to know one another.”
She returned his smile, once again shy.
“Yes, so am I .”
“There's an exhibition of Civil War memorabilia at the Visitor's Center this weekend. Would you like to go?”
“I'd like that.”
They stared into one anothers eyes for a long moment before she looked away, feeling flustered by the heat in his. She was seriously out of her depth here!
He raised her hand to place another gentle kiss on her knuckles.
“Good.” He took a step closer and brushed his lips over her cheek. “Thank you for coming, for giving me a chance.”
Her smile was soft, her eyes reflecting a quiet joy.
“Thank you for giving me one.”
The End
Haiku (Extra)
Pretty crystal vase
Pastel roses every hue
Pure love on display
You really pulled this one from your current circumstance. You made me wonder if it is really happening. If so, I'm glad for you. If not, it's a good story of what you desire.
I knew a Civil War buff writer. He wrote a novel about his great grandfather who was a member of the West Virginia cavalry because Ohio where he lived was not taking any more enlistments.
I edited the story for my friend and had to rewrite the last chapter because it was too sad. He accepted my by rewrite. Because the way it was going, his great grandfather wouldn't have had any children, just lost his beloved horse. ;-)
Enjoy twists and surprising turns in this erotic collection of sexy love stories based on seven classic fairy tales. There are romantic interludes to touch your heart and plenty of scorching sex to warm your coldest nights.
The Matchmaker:
Angela Calminetti, mother of five, New Age practitioner and gifted psychic and telepath, is proud of her family ties and does everything she can to make sure that all of her younger siblings are as happy in love and marriage
The Matchmaker:
Angela Calminetti, mother of five, New Age practitioner and gifted psychic and telepath, is proud of her family ties and does everything she can to make sure that all of her younger siblings are as happy in love and marriage
Brigit O'Malley was a short, plump, late middle-aged, and passably pretty woman who lived alone in a rent adjusted seniors' high rise. Known for her seemingly outgoing laugh and smiling nature, she was in fact reclusive and shy, never letting anyone get too close. Only those closest to her were allowed admittance to the inner sanctums of her heart. She had survived years of emotional trauma from early childhood, learning early not to trust. But that hadn't stopped her from hoping that one day she'd know love for herself as a whole person and not only for being useful. Know what it was like to truly belong. As for romantic relationships, never having had one, she had given up on those many years before. Now all she wanted was to know simple acceptance.
