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- Story Listed as: Fiction For Adults
- Theme: Family & Friends
- Subject: Aging / Maturity
- Published: 09/08/2020
Match-Maker
Born 1944, F, from Melbourne, FL, United StatesMatch-maker
by
Valerie Allen
“Ed, I want you to meet my friend, Christine.” Marla patted her brother on the shoulder and gestured toward the reluctant woman at her side. The woman stood, short and plump, pocketbook tucked under her arm, blue cardigan sweater draped across her shoulders. Her lips offered a brief up turn at the corners and then settled into a smooth straight line.
“Christine, this is my stodgy, old, brother, Ed.” She tilted her head to one side. “He's a bit grumpy, but he's really a nice guy.”
Ed frowned and stiffened his shoulders. He turned in his chair, which caused his elbow to bump the silverware which hit the water glass causing it to tip slightly. He grabbed at the glass and water sloshed onto his hand.
“Maybe you two could enjoy each others company until the book reading begins,” Marla said. “The luncheon will start in about half an hour.”
Christine slid onto the chair to Ed's left. “Not to worry.” She reached over to shake his hand.
Ed flicked his wrist in an effort to shake the water off and then picked up the cloth napkin and dried his hand before offering it to Christine.
Christine's eyes widened. “People say the same things about me. They think I don't know it, but I do.”
“That you're old or grumpy?” Ed raised his eyebrows and looked at her.
“Grumpy,” she said. “'Cause I'm not old!”
Ed sniffed. “Well, excuse me. I just tried to clarify.”
“Glad you did,” she snapped. “Yes, that's what they say, but I'm not old and I'm not grumpy.”
Ed glared over his shoulder at Marla. “If my sister would stop trying to be a match-maker, I'd be fine.” He slapped his fingers on the edge of the table.
Marla winked. “I know what my big brother needs.”
“I don't need you lining me up with some woman or another!”
Marla inclined toward him and whispered in his ear. “I know when people need people.” She waved her hand in the air. “You two enjoy each other.” She walked away to greet someone at the next table.
Christine leaned toward him. “Well, you're safe with me. I'm a long-time-widow and a slightly worn, mother of three. As a matter of fact, that's how I learned to get along with cranky people.” She spoke with the tone of a spinster school teacher.
“From your husband and your kids?” he asked.
“Yep, the whole bunch of 'em. About drove me crazy taking care of all of them.”
He nodded agreement. “Well, that would do it. I took care of my wife in the end. It wasn't easy, I can tell you that.”
She nodded agreement. “All that responsibility is enough to make anyone cranky,” she said.
He raised his voice. “I'm not cranky!”
She unrolled her napkin and dropped it onto her lap. “Good, I'm glad to hear that. I'm not cranky either.” She looked at him. “So here we are two not cranky people sitting together at a book luncheon.”
He cleared his throat. “We know who we are and how we are and that's all that matters.”
“I agree. So what are we doing here anyway? Why did we let Marla push us into this?”
He shifted in his chair. His voice softened. “I'm sorry if I offended you. I didn't mean to be rude. It's just that sister of mine is always sticking her nose into my business.”
“You don't have to tell me about your sister.” Christine rolled her eyes. “I've known Marla for many years.”
“Ever since my wife passed away last year, Marla's been dragging me to luncheons, family events, BBQs, concerts—any place she thinks she can get me hooked up with some ol' gal.”
Christine frowned, a double line formed between her eyebrows. “Hey, who's calling who old?”
“I'm sorry.” He shook his head. “There I go again. I'm always saying the wrong thing at the wrong time—and obviously to the wrong person. I can see you're still just a girl.”
Christine touched her hand to her silver, tightly rolled curls. “Nice recovery and kind words for a women close to 80 to hear.”
“As I said, you're just a kid—I'm 82.” A somber look crossed his face. “My wife was only 68 when she passed.”
“I'm sorry to hear about your wife. My husband died four years ago and it's not easy being alone,” she said.
His eyes watered. “I know, but I manage. I'm a retired accountant. I keep myself busy as a volunteer at the Enchanted Forest Preserve.”
“Do you help them cook the books?” she asked.
He pulled back in his chair. “No, of course not! I don't do accounting any more and when I did, I never cooked anyone's books!”
“No need to get cranky.”
“I'm not cranky!” he said.
“So what do you do at the Enchanted Forest Preserve?” she asked.
“I work outdoors—when it's not raining. I hate the rain.”
Christine frowned. “Careful with that outdoor work—mosquitoes, pollen, bug bites—skin cancer.”
He stared at her and lifted his hand to his chin. “I hadn't thought about anything like that. Actually, as a young man I wanted to work outdoors as a forest ranger.”
“How did you wind up in the numbers business instead of the great outdoors?” she asked.
“I fell in love with a wonderful woman.” His eyes glistened. “We got married. We had kids. We needed money.”
“Oh, I can relate to that,” she said. “I planned to be a veterinarian.”
“And?” he asked.
“Same as you. I fell in love, had children. Learned how to use a computer and earned a decent living.”
He nodded. “I understood profit and loss sheets and was offered a good job.”
“Life happens,” she said.
“So it does.”
She looked across the room. “Ah, those dreams we had, where are they now?” she mused.
Their eyes met with understanding.
Ed cleared his throat. “Eventually, I finished college, one class at a time. Took me seven years, but I got it done and moved on to bigger and better things. Never did get paid what I'm worth, but that's big business for you.”
“Oh, I know. Try being a woman eking out a living in the corporate world. You get treated like a second-class citizen.”
“My wife was a homemaker. She didn't have to deal with that.”
“Lucky for her. How's retirement going for you?” she asked.
“Some days it's better than others. Sometimes, I miss the demands of work.”
“I know what you mean. I hate going to work, but I kind of like the routine,” she said.
“You're not retired?” he asked.
Christine hesitated. “No. I'm afraid the joys of retirement will never be mine in this lifetime.”
“Why do you keep working?” he asked.
Christine frowned. “Because I like to eat and I have to pay my bills.” She looked up and met his glance. “My husband was seriously ill for a long time. I'll never pay off all the medical bills. I don't want to default on my mortgage, or my second mortgage.”
“It's a shame people have to suffer financial ruin to pay the high cost of keeping someone alive these days.”
She glared at him. “Excuse me. That's not exactly how I look at it,” she said. “My husband worked all his life. No way was I going to let him have shoddy treatment in the end.”
“Of course. I'm sorry. I didn't mean it that way,” Ed said.
Christine looked away.
“I felt the same way about my wife. Whatever she needed, whatever they suggested we did.”
Christine lifted her napkin, gave it a shake, and rearranged it on her lap. “I don't want to lose my house. I'm not looking to move or down-size.”
Ed rubbed his chin. “Well, staying home is okay, but after a while, you make a habit of it and soon you stay home more and more.”
“Hmm, likely that's why Marla tries to keep you socially involved. I'm sure she means well.”
He shook his head. “Sometimes, I like to be alone. I'm used to it now and it's not so bad. I can sleep in. I can mosey around the house finding things to do.”
Christine lifted her chin. “Ah, but can you cook?”
“You got me there. It's definitely not my strong point.” He laughed. “Isn't that why God created all those fast-food places?”
“Eating that stuff will put you in heart-attack alley for sure,” she said.
Ed shrugged. “They're close, quick, and cheap; what else could a man ask for?”
Christine raised her eyebrows. “You could raise your standards. It's too bad you don't enjoy the things your sister lines up for you.”
“I do enjoy these events. I just can't stand it when she seats me next to some gal who's husband hunting.”
Christine blinked rapidly. “Hmm, I see. Well, this time she must have assigned you to the wrong table.”
He looked at her. “Oh, I'm so sorry. I didn't mean to suggest anything out of the way.” He shook his head. “See, this is what I mean. Somehow I always get in trouble with the ladies.”
“So you'd rather stay home and be a stick-in-the-mud.”
“Exactly!”
“I can understand that, but there's no need to feel uncomfortable with me. You can enjoy the book talk and the luncheon without any fear of being accosted.”
“Oh, please, forgive me. I haven't been on a date in more than 40 years. You kind of fall out of touch with that sort of thing when you're married for so long.”
She jerked her head up. “Well, we're not exactly having a date.”
“No. Oh, no. There I go again. I keep getting my words mixed up. I'm not suggesting anything like that.”
She let out a deep breath. “Ed, maybe we should just start this whole conversation over.”
He picked up his water glass and took a long drink. He set the glass on the table. “Yes. Yes, that would be good.”
“Tell me about other things you enjoy.”
“Just simple stuff, like a long walk before the sun sets. Of course, I enjoy a morning walk along the beach, too. I love to read and learn new things.”
“That's definitely high on my list,” she agreed.
“I go to all those talks at the library—the price is right, that's for sure,” Ed said.
“Well, if it's free, it's for me!” Christine said. “I do the same thing. I've learned a lot of interesting things—how to build a bird house, improve my posture, and make an herb garden on the window sill.”
“You sound like my kinda gal.”
She glanced at him out of the corner of her eye.
“Oh, no, no. I didn't mean anything by that. I just meant we have a lot in common—you know, the same interests.”
They sat in silence for a few minutes.
She turned to him. “Okay, Ed, shall we try again?”
He let out a long sigh and began to finger the silverware. “Sure. I'll try to do better.”
“You're doing okay, but I have to agree with your sister, you need to get out more.”
Ed lowered his chin. “She's right. I've become a hermit. If it wasn't for my volunteer work and the mailman, I'd go all week without a single word to anyone.”
“Well, that's not good.”
“I know, but how does one my age go about making friends? You see how I am. I've managed to offend you several times already.”
“You're not exactly a smooth talker, that's for sure. You need to get out and meet people.”
“Easier said than done,” he said.
“You need to be open to new opportunities.”
“What kind of opportunities?” he asked.
“Doing things, feeling useful.” She touched his hand. “I volunteer every chance I get. It keeps me out of trouble-and away from the house.”
“Where do you volunteer?”
“Different places. I like variety and not being stuck too long doing one thing. On Mondays I rock babies in the newborn unit at the hospital. On Tuesdays I stock canned goods at the food bank. On Wednesdays I bathe kittens at the animal shelter. On Thursday I do craft projects at the senior center and on Friday I prepare the bulletin for my church.”
“That might be a little too much for me. I'm a home-body,” he said.
“I work and I like being busy,” she said.
“My goodness are you ever home?” he asked.
“I try not to be home. My house is too empty and too quiet, especially at night and on the weekends. ”
“I know what you mean,” he said.
“Do you have children?” she asked.
“I have two sons. They both have good jobs. One lives in Georgia and the other lives in North Carolina.”
“Do you visit them?” she asked.
“Sadly, not too often.” He stared across the room. “They're busy with work and their own families.” He eyed his water glass. “I was the same way when I was their age.”
She looked at him and nodded. “Funny, how you can give kids your whole life, but they're too busy to give you a 10 minute phone call once a week.”
He spoke slowly. “You're right about that. What about you? Do you have family?”
“I sure do. I love my kids and grand kids, but they're a busy bunch. I need an appointment just to talk with them on the phone—if they can even use a phone with all that texting goin' on.”
“How long were you married?”
She leaned toward him and lowered her voice. “A long time and I've been widowed a long time too, so no need to fear me trying to lasso you in.”
“Oh, I didn't mean that,” he said.
She straightened in her chair.
“What did your husband do for a living?”
“He was in retail. He traveled a lot as a regional manager for an up-scale men's clothing chain.”
“Did he like going with you to these events?”
She looked down and studied her plate. “No. He never liked this sort of thing.”
“I'm sorry to hear that,” Ed said.
“It's okay. I always went out with my friends—my lady friends that is. I became used to doing things without him.”
“I understand,” he said. “I've thought about family a lot since my wife's death. I've learned how important it is to be in the here and now; be with people you care about. Enjoy the little things in life. Just go for it!”
She blinked back tears. “Except we didn't,” she said softly.
“Afraid that's true for me as well,” he agreed. “I've learned it's nicer when you can share things with another person. It makes memories.”
“It's hard sometimes to be alone after years of living with someone,” she said.
“It's a big void.It's a dark place I go some days and I have to be careful or it will pull me in,” Ed said.
“You're right,” Christine said. “Is that what made you decide to come to the luncheon today?”
He looked at her critically. “You got me now. That's exactly why I came here today. My sister is always nagging me—which I hate—but I know it's good for me to get out once in a while.”
They looked at each other knowingly.
* * * *
“Hi,” Marla said when Ed answered the phone.
“Hello, Marla.”
“Just called to see if you enjoyed the luncheon and book talk last week.”
“It was okay. The iced tea was warm.”
“Well sometimes that happens. Was everything else okay?”
He sniffed. “Could have used a little more salt in the potato salad.”
Patiently Marla asked, “Other than that, did you have a good time?”
“It wasn't too bad,” Ed said.
“Good, good. Are you ready for another outing?”
“You make it sound like you're taking me away from the old folks home for a field trip,” he said.
“No, it's not like that at all. I think the more you are out and about the better you'll feel.”
“I feel fine. I don't need to be out and about!” Ed said.
“No need to get cranky.”
He raised his voice. “I'm not cranky!”
“Of course you're not, but you shouldn't be by yourself all the time.”
“I like being by myself. I do okay,” he said.
“There's a concert this Friday at the auditorium. It's free. Can I get you to consider coming?”
“Not sure. I'll have to check calendar and see what else I have going on.”
“Come on Ed. Do it for me, please.”
He took a deep breath. “Oh, I guess so. If nothing else, I'll go just so you stop bugging me!”
Marla laughed. “Now you sound like my friend, Christine. She said the same thing when I invited her.”
# # #
Thank you for taking the time to read
"Match-maker"
If you enjoyed it,
please consider telling your friends
and posting a review on
Amazon.com or other online sites.
Word-of-mouth referrals are
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and much appreciated.
Copyright 2016 by Valerie Allen
VAllenWriter@gmail.com
Amazon.com/author/valerieallen
Amazon.com/dp/B01MRULSG5
Short Stories
by
Valerie Allen
A Good Thing on a Bad Day
A License to Practice
A Marriage of Convenience
A Mother's Love
A Tooth for a Tooth
A True Miracle
Ad Hoc Committee
Best Wishes
Brotherly Love
Conditional Love
Doggie Tales
Father's Day
Fire Engine Red
Fireworks on the 4th
First Love
Fit for Life
Future Plans
Holiday Traditions
Home for the Holidays
Holiday House Rules
I Remember Momma
Just Be Cos
Ladies in Waiting
Leisureville
Love is in the Air
Match-maker
Mother Knows Best
No Goin' Home
Potty Talk
Puppy Love
Queen for a Day
Second Chance
Small Steps
Split Second Timing
Thank You, Mr. Jackson!
The Big Winner!
The Garden of Love
The Lonely Life of Amanda Miller
The Penalty Box
Words of Wisdom
Valentine's Day
Visiting Day
~ ~ ~
Match-maker
by
Valerie Allen
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are either the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or events, is entirely coincidental.
Printed in the United States of America. All rights reserved. No part of this story may be reproduced, stored in or introduced into a retrieval system, or transmitted, in any form or by any means (electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, or otherwise) without the prior written permission of the author.
Match-Maker(Valerie Allen)
Match-maker
by
Valerie Allen
“Ed, I want you to meet my friend, Christine.” Marla patted her brother on the shoulder and gestured toward the reluctant woman at her side. The woman stood, short and plump, pocketbook tucked under her arm, blue cardigan sweater draped across her shoulders. Her lips offered a brief up turn at the corners and then settled into a smooth straight line.
“Christine, this is my stodgy, old, brother, Ed.” She tilted her head to one side. “He's a bit grumpy, but he's really a nice guy.”
Ed frowned and stiffened his shoulders. He turned in his chair, which caused his elbow to bump the silverware which hit the water glass causing it to tip slightly. He grabbed at the glass and water sloshed onto his hand.
“Maybe you two could enjoy each others company until the book reading begins,” Marla said. “The luncheon will start in about half an hour.”
Christine slid onto the chair to Ed's left. “Not to worry.” She reached over to shake his hand.
Ed flicked his wrist in an effort to shake the water off and then picked up the cloth napkin and dried his hand before offering it to Christine.
Christine's eyes widened. “People say the same things about me. They think I don't know it, but I do.”
“That you're old or grumpy?” Ed raised his eyebrows and looked at her.
“Grumpy,” she said. “'Cause I'm not old!”
Ed sniffed. “Well, excuse me. I just tried to clarify.”
“Glad you did,” she snapped. “Yes, that's what they say, but I'm not old and I'm not grumpy.”
Ed glared over his shoulder at Marla. “If my sister would stop trying to be a match-maker, I'd be fine.” He slapped his fingers on the edge of the table.
Marla winked. “I know what my big brother needs.”
“I don't need you lining me up with some woman or another!”
Marla inclined toward him and whispered in his ear. “I know when people need people.” She waved her hand in the air. “You two enjoy each other.” She walked away to greet someone at the next table.
Christine leaned toward him. “Well, you're safe with me. I'm a long-time-widow and a slightly worn, mother of three. As a matter of fact, that's how I learned to get along with cranky people.” She spoke with the tone of a spinster school teacher.
“From your husband and your kids?” he asked.
“Yep, the whole bunch of 'em. About drove me crazy taking care of all of them.”
He nodded agreement. “Well, that would do it. I took care of my wife in the end. It wasn't easy, I can tell you that.”
She nodded agreement. “All that responsibility is enough to make anyone cranky,” she said.
He raised his voice. “I'm not cranky!”
She unrolled her napkin and dropped it onto her lap. “Good, I'm glad to hear that. I'm not cranky either.” She looked at him. “So here we are two not cranky people sitting together at a book luncheon.”
He cleared his throat. “We know who we are and how we are and that's all that matters.”
“I agree. So what are we doing here anyway? Why did we let Marla push us into this?”
He shifted in his chair. His voice softened. “I'm sorry if I offended you. I didn't mean to be rude. It's just that sister of mine is always sticking her nose into my business.”
“You don't have to tell me about your sister.” Christine rolled her eyes. “I've known Marla for many years.”
“Ever since my wife passed away last year, Marla's been dragging me to luncheons, family events, BBQs, concerts—any place she thinks she can get me hooked up with some ol' gal.”
Christine frowned, a double line formed between her eyebrows. “Hey, who's calling who old?”
“I'm sorry.” He shook his head. “There I go again. I'm always saying the wrong thing at the wrong time—and obviously to the wrong person. I can see you're still just a girl.”
Christine touched her hand to her silver, tightly rolled curls. “Nice recovery and kind words for a women close to 80 to hear.”
“As I said, you're just a kid—I'm 82.” A somber look crossed his face. “My wife was only 68 when she passed.”
“I'm sorry to hear about your wife. My husband died four years ago and it's not easy being alone,” she said.
His eyes watered. “I know, but I manage. I'm a retired accountant. I keep myself busy as a volunteer at the Enchanted Forest Preserve.”
“Do you help them cook the books?” she asked.
He pulled back in his chair. “No, of course not! I don't do accounting any more and when I did, I never cooked anyone's books!”
“No need to get cranky.”
“I'm not cranky!” he said.
“So what do you do at the Enchanted Forest Preserve?” she asked.
“I work outdoors—when it's not raining. I hate the rain.”
Christine frowned. “Careful with that outdoor work—mosquitoes, pollen, bug bites—skin cancer.”
He stared at her and lifted his hand to his chin. “I hadn't thought about anything like that. Actually, as a young man I wanted to work outdoors as a forest ranger.”
“How did you wind up in the numbers business instead of the great outdoors?” she asked.
“I fell in love with a wonderful woman.” His eyes glistened. “We got married. We had kids. We needed money.”
“Oh, I can relate to that,” she said. “I planned to be a veterinarian.”
“And?” he asked.
“Same as you. I fell in love, had children. Learned how to use a computer and earned a decent living.”
He nodded. “I understood profit and loss sheets and was offered a good job.”
“Life happens,” she said.
“So it does.”
She looked across the room. “Ah, those dreams we had, where are they now?” she mused.
Their eyes met with understanding.
Ed cleared his throat. “Eventually, I finished college, one class at a time. Took me seven years, but I got it done and moved on to bigger and better things. Never did get paid what I'm worth, but that's big business for you.”
“Oh, I know. Try being a woman eking out a living in the corporate world. You get treated like a second-class citizen.”
“My wife was a homemaker. She didn't have to deal with that.”
“Lucky for her. How's retirement going for you?” she asked.
“Some days it's better than others. Sometimes, I miss the demands of work.”
“I know what you mean. I hate going to work, but I kind of like the routine,” she said.
“You're not retired?” he asked.
Christine hesitated. “No. I'm afraid the joys of retirement will never be mine in this lifetime.”
“Why do you keep working?” he asked.
Christine frowned. “Because I like to eat and I have to pay my bills.” She looked up and met his glance. “My husband was seriously ill for a long time. I'll never pay off all the medical bills. I don't want to default on my mortgage, or my second mortgage.”
“It's a shame people have to suffer financial ruin to pay the high cost of keeping someone alive these days.”
She glared at him. “Excuse me. That's not exactly how I look at it,” she said. “My husband worked all his life. No way was I going to let him have shoddy treatment in the end.”
“Of course. I'm sorry. I didn't mean it that way,” Ed said.
Christine looked away.
“I felt the same way about my wife. Whatever she needed, whatever they suggested we did.”
Christine lifted her napkin, gave it a shake, and rearranged it on her lap. “I don't want to lose my house. I'm not looking to move or down-size.”
Ed rubbed his chin. “Well, staying home is okay, but after a while, you make a habit of it and soon you stay home more and more.”
“Hmm, likely that's why Marla tries to keep you socially involved. I'm sure she means well.”
He shook his head. “Sometimes, I like to be alone. I'm used to it now and it's not so bad. I can sleep in. I can mosey around the house finding things to do.”
Christine lifted her chin. “Ah, but can you cook?”
“You got me there. It's definitely not my strong point.” He laughed. “Isn't that why God created all those fast-food places?”
“Eating that stuff will put you in heart-attack alley for sure,” she said.
Ed shrugged. “They're close, quick, and cheap; what else could a man ask for?”
Christine raised her eyebrows. “You could raise your standards. It's too bad you don't enjoy the things your sister lines up for you.”
“I do enjoy these events. I just can't stand it when she seats me next to some gal who's husband hunting.”
Christine blinked rapidly. “Hmm, I see. Well, this time she must have assigned you to the wrong table.”
He looked at her. “Oh, I'm so sorry. I didn't mean to suggest anything out of the way.” He shook his head. “See, this is what I mean. Somehow I always get in trouble with the ladies.”
“So you'd rather stay home and be a stick-in-the-mud.”
“Exactly!”
“I can understand that, but there's no need to feel uncomfortable with me. You can enjoy the book talk and the luncheon without any fear of being accosted.”
“Oh, please, forgive me. I haven't been on a date in more than 40 years. You kind of fall out of touch with that sort of thing when you're married for so long.”
She jerked her head up. “Well, we're not exactly having a date.”
“No. Oh, no. There I go again. I keep getting my words mixed up. I'm not suggesting anything like that.”
She let out a deep breath. “Ed, maybe we should just start this whole conversation over.”
He picked up his water glass and took a long drink. He set the glass on the table. “Yes. Yes, that would be good.”
“Tell me about other things you enjoy.”
“Just simple stuff, like a long walk before the sun sets. Of course, I enjoy a morning walk along the beach, too. I love to read and learn new things.”
“That's definitely high on my list,” she agreed.
“I go to all those talks at the library—the price is right, that's for sure,” Ed said.
“Well, if it's free, it's for me!” Christine said. “I do the same thing. I've learned a lot of interesting things—how to build a bird house, improve my posture, and make an herb garden on the window sill.”
“You sound like my kinda gal.”
She glanced at him out of the corner of her eye.
“Oh, no, no. I didn't mean anything by that. I just meant we have a lot in common—you know, the same interests.”
They sat in silence for a few minutes.
She turned to him. “Okay, Ed, shall we try again?”
He let out a long sigh and began to finger the silverware. “Sure. I'll try to do better.”
“You're doing okay, but I have to agree with your sister, you need to get out more.”
Ed lowered his chin. “She's right. I've become a hermit. If it wasn't for my volunteer work and the mailman, I'd go all week without a single word to anyone.”
“Well, that's not good.”
“I know, but how does one my age go about making friends? You see how I am. I've managed to offend you several times already.”
“You're not exactly a smooth talker, that's for sure. You need to get out and meet people.”
“Easier said than done,” he said.
“You need to be open to new opportunities.”
“What kind of opportunities?” he asked.
“Doing things, feeling useful.” She touched his hand. “I volunteer every chance I get. It keeps me out of trouble-and away from the house.”
“Where do you volunteer?”
“Different places. I like variety and not being stuck too long doing one thing. On Mondays I rock babies in the newborn unit at the hospital. On Tuesdays I stock canned goods at the food bank. On Wednesdays I bathe kittens at the animal shelter. On Thursday I do craft projects at the senior center and on Friday I prepare the bulletin for my church.”
“That might be a little too much for me. I'm a home-body,” he said.
“I work and I like being busy,” she said.
“My goodness are you ever home?” he asked.
“I try not to be home. My house is too empty and too quiet, especially at night and on the weekends. ”
“I know what you mean,” he said.
“Do you have children?” she asked.
“I have two sons. They both have good jobs. One lives in Georgia and the other lives in North Carolina.”
“Do you visit them?” she asked.
“Sadly, not too often.” He stared across the room. “They're busy with work and their own families.” He eyed his water glass. “I was the same way when I was their age.”
She looked at him and nodded. “Funny, how you can give kids your whole life, but they're too busy to give you a 10 minute phone call once a week.”
He spoke slowly. “You're right about that. What about you? Do you have family?”
“I sure do. I love my kids and grand kids, but they're a busy bunch. I need an appointment just to talk with them on the phone—if they can even use a phone with all that texting goin' on.”
“How long were you married?”
She leaned toward him and lowered her voice. “A long time and I've been widowed a long time too, so no need to fear me trying to lasso you in.”
“Oh, I didn't mean that,” he said.
She straightened in her chair.
“What did your husband do for a living?”
“He was in retail. He traveled a lot as a regional manager for an up-scale men's clothing chain.”
“Did he like going with you to these events?”
She looked down and studied her plate. “No. He never liked this sort of thing.”
“I'm sorry to hear that,” Ed said.
“It's okay. I always went out with my friends—my lady friends that is. I became used to doing things without him.”
“I understand,” he said. “I've thought about family a lot since my wife's death. I've learned how important it is to be in the here and now; be with people you care about. Enjoy the little things in life. Just go for it!”
She blinked back tears. “Except we didn't,” she said softly.
“Afraid that's true for me as well,” he agreed. “I've learned it's nicer when you can share things with another person. It makes memories.”
“It's hard sometimes to be alone after years of living with someone,” she said.
“It's a big void.It's a dark place I go some days and I have to be careful or it will pull me in,” Ed said.
“You're right,” Christine said. “Is that what made you decide to come to the luncheon today?”
He looked at her critically. “You got me now. That's exactly why I came here today. My sister is always nagging me—which I hate—but I know it's good for me to get out once in a while.”
They looked at each other knowingly.
* * * *
“Hi,” Marla said when Ed answered the phone.
“Hello, Marla.”
“Just called to see if you enjoyed the luncheon and book talk last week.”
“It was okay. The iced tea was warm.”
“Well sometimes that happens. Was everything else okay?”
He sniffed. “Could have used a little more salt in the potato salad.”
Patiently Marla asked, “Other than that, did you have a good time?”
“It wasn't too bad,” Ed said.
“Good, good. Are you ready for another outing?”
“You make it sound like you're taking me away from the old folks home for a field trip,” he said.
“No, it's not like that at all. I think the more you are out and about the better you'll feel.”
“I feel fine. I don't need to be out and about!” Ed said.
“No need to get cranky.”
He raised his voice. “I'm not cranky!”
“Of course you're not, but you shouldn't be by yourself all the time.”
“I like being by myself. I do okay,” he said.
“There's a concert this Friday at the auditorium. It's free. Can I get you to consider coming?”
“Not sure. I'll have to check calendar and see what else I have going on.”
“Come on Ed. Do it for me, please.”
He took a deep breath. “Oh, I guess so. If nothing else, I'll go just so you stop bugging me!”
Marla laughed. “Now you sound like my friend, Christine. She said the same thing when I invited her.”
# # #
Thank you for taking the time to read
"Match-maker"
If you enjoyed it,
please consider telling your friends
and posting a review on
Amazon.com or other online sites.
Word-of-mouth referrals are
an author's best friend
and much appreciated.
Copyright 2016 by Valerie Allen
VAllenWriter@gmail.com
Amazon.com/author/valerieallen
Amazon.com/dp/B01MRULSG5
Short Stories
by
Valerie Allen
A Good Thing on a Bad Day
A License to Practice
A Marriage of Convenience
A Mother's Love
A Tooth for a Tooth
A True Miracle
Ad Hoc Committee
Best Wishes
Brotherly Love
Conditional Love
Doggie Tales
Father's Day
Fire Engine Red
Fireworks on the 4th
First Love
Fit for Life
Future Plans
Holiday Traditions
Home for the Holidays
Holiday House Rules
I Remember Momma
Just Be Cos
Ladies in Waiting
Leisureville
Love is in the Air
Match-maker
Mother Knows Best
No Goin' Home
Potty Talk
Puppy Love
Queen for a Day
Second Chance
Small Steps
Split Second Timing
Thank You, Mr. Jackson!
The Big Winner!
The Garden of Love
The Lonely Life of Amanda Miller
The Penalty Box
Words of Wisdom
Valentine's Day
Visiting Day
~ ~ ~
Match-maker
by
Valerie Allen
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are either the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or events, is entirely coincidental.
Printed in the United States of America. All rights reserved. No part of this story may be reproduced, stored in or introduced into a retrieval system, or transmitted, in any form or by any means (electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, or otherwise) without the prior written permission of the author.
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JD
09/19/2020That was an enjoyable read. It is always inspiring when those who think their life is coming to its end can find a new beginning and a new life ahead. Thanks for sharing your love story on Storystar, Valerie! : )
ReplyHelp Us Understand What's Happening
Help Us Understand What's Happening
Jason James Parker
09/08/2020Excellent story, Valerie. You deliver dialogue with true mastery and authenticity. : )
ReplyHelp Us Understand What's Happening
Valerie Allen
09/08/2020Jason ~ thank you for your comments. Feedback is always appreciated. This story was heavy on dialogue, but each exchange was brief and kept the story moving. I use this technique when the story is light in nature- nothing too exciting about two older folks at a luncheon. The real "story" was the deep emotional issues they both faced and how this encounter moved them - reluctantly - in a new direction. Glad you enjoyed the story ~
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