Wishing
for
Wonderful
A Novel
BETTE LEE CROSBY
Wishing for Wonderful
Copyright © 2014 by Bette Lee Crosby
Cover Design by Kathleen Valentine, Kathleen Valentine Design
Formatting by Author E.M.S.
All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced or transmitted in any form by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopy, recording, or information storage and retrieval system without permission in writing from the author, except by reviewers who may quote brief passages for a review to be printed in a newspaper, magazine or journal.
This is a work of fiction. While, as in all fiction, the literary perceptions and insights are based on life experiences and conclusions drawn from research, all names, characters, places and specific instances are products of the author’s imagination and used fictitiously. No actual reference to any real person, living or dead, is intended or inferred.
ISBN: 978-0-9891289-8-8
BENT PINE PUBLISHING
Port Saint Lucie, FL
For Katie
Who will forever hold
a special place
in my heart.
Wishing
for
Wonderful
The Wish
Somewhere high above the world there’s a place Earthlings know nothing about. A few suspect it exists, and they imagine it’s somewhere beyond the sun or nestled behind the clouds. Neither is true. I know, because this place of whisper thin breezes, heartaches and dreams is where I live.
No mortal has ever been here, and few even believe I am who I am. On Valentine’s Day they send cards and flowers to their loved ones but it’s simply a tradition, not an acknowledgement of my expertise in providing them with their perfect mate. “Thank heaven I met you,” lovers say to one another, but there is seldom a mention of my name.
Eleanor Shipley was an exception, and that’s why I’m determined to grant her one wish.
It happened back in February of 1973. I was arranging for a young widow to meet a single father with two girls when a sound soft as a feather landed on my ear. I looked down and saw Eleanor standing in her backyard looking up at the sky. Scooping a handful of snowflakes from the porch rail, she blew them into the air and said, “Please, Cupid, make Johnny Gray fall in love with me.”
Such belief touched my heart, and in that fleeting instant I turned the snowflakes to stardust. Eleanor knew then her wish would be granted. She was only seven at the time so it would be years before I could make it come true, but I promised myself it would happen.
The thing about promises is that sometimes they slip through the cracks. Not due to a lack of caring, but simply because life gets in the way. That’s what happened with Eleanor. Now, after forty-seven years, I finally have a chance to set things right, but there are a number of other people I’ve got to deal with before I can give Eleanor the happiness she deserves. Still, I’m determined.
To understand the challenges, you’ve got to hear the whole story. Once you’ve heard it, I think you’ll agree with what I did. There are rules here; I know that. And I’ll admit I flagrantly defied them. Maybe it wasn’t the smartest thing to do, but I’m a sucker for true love.
I’m Cupid; isn’t that what you’d expect?
Cupid
True Love Never Dies
Unlike Eleanor Shipley, who knew exactly what she wanted and was wise enough to ask me for it, most humans are outrageously in love with love. Even worse, they’re determined to find it themselves. They stumble in and out of relationships that were never meant to be and then wonder why those relationships didn’t work.
Females are infinitely more complicated than males. Lindsay Gray, for example. She’s dead set on doing this her way, and five times she’s ended up with the wrong male. She’s the kind of female who makes my job a nightmare. Don’t forget I told you I’d have to deal with other people before I could give Eleanor what she wants. Lindsay is one of those people.
Contrary to popular belief, love isn’t a result of me shooting an arrow into some human’s heart. That whole bit is a lot of hooey. I get my orders from Upstairs. The Boss gives me a rundown of matches; then it’s my job to make sure the male and female get together. When things go wrong, I’ve got to come up with a Plan B. Unfortunately Lindsay Gray has already used up B through D. I’m now working on Plan E, and she’s dangerously close to being reclassified as Love-Challenged.
Her problem is she can’t tell love from lust. She sees a pair of heavy-lidded dark eyes or a rippling muscle and thinks she’s in love. This started when she was only ten years old and caught sight of the boy who lived two doors down. The lad was twelve and wanted nothing to do with her, but that didn’t stop Lindsay from developing a preadolescent case of lovesickness. She followed that poor boy around like a faithful puppy until she saw him kissing Sara McLachlan. Once that happened she swore she’d never love again and she didn’t, until she was eleven.
Bear in mind, I am who I am and not once have I mistaken lust for love. Lindsay has more times than I can count, and every time it ended in a disaster. She can’t understand why this keeps happening to her, but the answer is obvious: humans with do-it-yourself determination are not equipped to identify true love. They inevitably believe passion is love.
Elizabeth Taylor is a perfect example. She refused to let me handle things, so eight times she got married and seven times she got divorced. One poor chap was killed in a plane crash before she had a chance to divorce him.
That was not my doing, by the way. That unfortunate event came from Life Management. Not one of those gents was included in Elizabeth’s plan, which goes to prove what I’ve been saying.
But I’m digressing.
One of the advantages of this job is my ability to see the future, and I can tell you Lindsay’s got a lot of problems ahead of her. Problems far worse than her bad boyfriend choices. Most of those problems are coming from the guy over in Life Management. Me, I’m a lovable fellow. But Life Management—well, suffice it to say he handles things like car crashes, bankruptcies and heart attacks.
Right now my primary assignment isn’t Lindsay, it’s her father and Eleanor. But if I don’t step in and take control of Lindsay’s life, she’ll ruin theirs. Eleanor and John deserve better; they’ve been waiting a long time.
~ ~ ~
Eleanor fell in love with John Gray the year she turned seven. His family lived next door to hers, and from her bedroom window she could watch him playing in the backyard. Normally I’d chuckle at the thought of a seven-year-old being in love, but don’t forget I can see into the future so I knew this was meant to be. Anyway it was perfectly harmless, mostly games of tag, walking to and from school together, or John grabbing something of hers and holding it behind his back until she’d have to wrap her arms around him to catch hold of it.
Then the year they were in the sixth grade, the Gray family moved to a new house seven blocks over. That meant no more walking to school together or sitting on the steps of the front porch until bedtime. On summer evenings when Eleanor looked out the window and didn’t see John in the yard, a tear would come to her eye. It saddened her heart but didn’t put an end to their love.
In their sophomore year of high school Eleanor and John began dating for real. He’d borrow his daddy’s car and they’d go off to the movies or to a dance, but the most romantic evenings happened when John drove to Overlook Point and parked the car; then they’d kiss for hours on end. It was on those evenings when they both swore they’d be in love forever.
Seeing them as they were was what caused me to let down my guard. I figured they were already on the road to happiness and didn’t need any help from me. I was wrong.
Although I’ve no proof of this, I believe Life Management was partly responsible for what happened. If Eleanor had gone to Penn State instead of Kentucky, she and John would have had four daughters and a lifetime of happiness. I had that match all set, but once she left the Northeast she was out of my region. Raymond, the fellow she married was from Seattle—Northwest region—and they met at the University of Kentucky—Central region. You probably know where this is going, right? She was out of my region, Raymond was out of his, and my counterpart in Kentucky was busy fending off the nineteen girls who thought they were in love with the same basketball player, so Eleanor and Raymond got married and became what we call an MM (Migratory Mistake.)
Despite the fact that I’d let her down, Eleanor made the best of it. If you were standing on the outside looking in, you’d actually think she was happy. Of course, I knew the truth because I go to the inside of a person’s heart. I have to; it’s my job. Eleanor was a good wife and a good mother. A bit overindulgent with Ray Junior maybe, but still a good mother.
Papa Raymond was another story. It was bad enough he had an eye for the ladies, but he also had a great fondness for beer. On top of that he had the business sense of a turnip. An insurance salesman who sold life insurance to everybody but himself…how crazy is that?
When Life Management stepped in and did their dirty work Raymond got an illness nobody wants, and it was two years before they finally gave the okay for him to die. Eleanor took care of him that whole time, and once he was gone she worked two jobs so Ray Junior could go on to college.
Eleanor’s a woman with a big heart, lots of grit and steadfast determination, which is fortunate because when it comes to dealing with Lindsay Gray, she’s gonna need all of it. If Eleanor’s got a flaw it’s that she’s blind to the faults of those she loves, which is why Ray Junior is such a problem.
John’s marriage to Bethany fared far better, but that’s because they were one of my matches. Bethany was a Jersey girl and in my jurisdiction. So after I’d allowed Eleanor to slip through my fingers as she did I felt I owed John, and I gave him a second perfect match. Bethany’s accident was certainly not of my doing. Again, Life Management.
If I’m focused on a person I can look ahead and see the Life Management events that are going to take place. I can see them but not change them. That’s all part of a Master Plan. Don’t think I’m without power, I can make certain adjustments here and there—plant an idea, change the tone of a conversation, adjust timing, arrange for a flat tire—but when it comes to the really big stuff, no can do.
You might think with Raymond and Bethany both out of the picture I’d make things right for Eleanor and John, but I know my business and the timing was all wrong. They both had baggage, and it was way too much to shove into the basement and forget. So I waited almost nine years. Then on a balmy afternoon in the spring of 2010, they passed one another on Main Street in Medford. John’s hair had turned partly silver and Eleanor was about ten pounds heavier than she’d once been, but love doesn’t see things like that, so they recognized each other instantly.
Eleanor glanced sideways just as he was passing by. “John? John Gray?”
Before he turned and saw her face, Eleanor’s voice touched his heart.
“Good grief,” he said with a gasp. “Eleanor Shipley!”
Without stopping for a second thought, he reached out and took hold of her hand. “It’s been ages, and you look gorgeous as ever.”
Eleanor blushed a bit. Not enough for John to notice, but me, well, I see everything.
“It’s not Shipley anymore,” she said, “it’s Barrow.”
“Barrow, huh? So who’s the lucky guy?”
“Raymond Barrow. From Seattle.”
“Oh.” John sighed, then tried to cover his disappointment by mentioning that he too had gotten married. “You might’ve known my wife. Bethany Drake. She graduated the same year we did.”
Eleanor pondered a moment then said, “Yes, yes, I remember Bethany. Tall, blonde hair, very pretty. Small world isn’t it? The two of you married.”
“Were,” John corrected. “Unfortunately Bethany passed away nine years ago. Automobile accident, terrible thing…”
“How awful.” Eleanor sighed and the sigh was not feigned, for she too knew the pain of such a loss. “My Raymond passed on eleven years ago. Colon cancer.”
John was not one to take joy in another’s suffering, but at that moment it was all he could do to keep from smiling. “Do you have time for a cup of coffee?”
Eleanor nodded and off they went.
They passed by the crowded dinner and turned into a quaint little luncheonette with white tablecloths and a sprig of flowers on every table. Instead of sitting opposite one another they sat corner to corner, close enough for their knees to touch. After a short time of telling about the tragedies they’d experienced, they moved on to talking about old times, the friends who’d moved away and those who were still in town. When they spoke of their senior prom, Eleanor’s eyes sparkled as they hadn’t for more than thirty years.
“That white orchid you gave me,” she said wistfully, “was the prettiest I’ve ever seen.”
Lingering over two cups of coffee and a shared slice of chocolate cake, they remained there for almost three hours. When the dinner crowd began to drift in, Eleanor suggested they leave.
“Not unless you promise to meet me for lunch tomorrow,” John said with a grin.
Of course Eleanor said yes.
They met for lunch not once but several times. Lunch, it seemed was innocent enough, not disloyal to a departed spouse. But a yearning inside the heart is something that can’t be denied, be it afternoon, evening or first rays of dawn.
On the second lunch date, John reached across the table and took Eleanor’s hand in his.
“I can’t believe it’s been thirty years,” he said. “You don’t look a day older than you did in high school.”
“Oh, go on,” Eleanor said, laughing. “You’re just saying that to be nice.”
“No,” John insisted, “it’s true.”
The words he spoke were honest for that was how John saw Eleanor. He was blind to the tiny lines that crinkled her eyes and the silver threads peppering her hair. The same was true for Eleanor; when she looked at John she could almost imagine him still wearing his school sweater.
Each day their lunch date ran longer and longer. Then when it bumped up against the supper hour, John suggested a dinner date for Friday evening.
On Fridays Mario’s had music and a small parquet floor for dancing. John called ahead for a reservation and asked for a table in the far corner of the room. A spot where the lights were low and the distractions few. That evening the years they’d been apart faded into nothingness and as they moved to the rhythmic beat of a slow fox trot, he bent and touched his mouth to hers. The magic was still there. At the very same moment they both felt a jolt pass through their heart.
As for me, well, I didn’t have to lift a finger on this match. All I did was step back and let love take its course. Eleanor and John were matched over forty years ago and watching them now was like watching a crocus spring forth from the snow-covered ground. Before three months had gone by they were seeing each other every evening, and after six months they were talking marriage.
You’d like to think a relationship such as this would be nothing short of wonderful, but remember even a rose has thorns.
Although Ray Junior is married and has a life of his own, he bristles at the mere mention of Eleanor dating.
“A woman your age,” he says. “Are you out of your mind?”
Like so many young people, Ray fails to realize that love knows no age. Inside of every heart there is a tiny spot that remains forever young. That’s the spot where love grows, where hope never dies and miracles can still happen. I�
�ve been around for more centuries than you can count, and not once have I encountered a person too old to love. Too hard hearted perhaps, but never too old.
A being doesn’t have to be all knowing to realize Ray Junior is going to present a challenge for Eleanor and John, but I’ve looked into the future and I can tell you right now he isn’t their biggest problem. Lindsay Gray is.
Cupid
Here’s the Problem
Lindsay was living in Manhattan for almost two years when she bypassed the second perfect match I gave her. After she ignored the English major, I figured I’d go with a more business-minded type, so on seven different occasions I arranged for her to be in the elevator with Christopher Roberts, the financial planner in apartment 7B. He was good to go. I could tell by the way he watched her from the back and offered to carry her groceries to the door.
“No, thanks,” she said, “I’m okay with it.”
Lindsay’s tough to read. I can never tell if the spark is there or not, so I keep watching. The second time they meet, she gives him a big smile and he asks if she’s new in the building.
This time she doesn’t turn her back and it looks like she’s picking up on his lead.
“No,” she says, “I’ve been here for two years.”
The third time they meet, the elevator stops on three and he gets out when she does.
“Didn’t I see you at the Starbucks over on Second Avenue?” he asks.
She nods. “I stop there every morning. It’s close to where I work.”
“And…” he gives her a sexy little smile, “where’s that?”
Wishing for Wonderful: The Serendipity Series, Book 3 Page 1
