Be Mine, Valentine

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Be Mine, Valentine Page 8

by Jennifer Johnson


  Dane stared intensely at me his eyelids slowly dipping lower.

  Damn. Why did men have to have all the eyelashes? It wasn’t fair.

  “Abbie, I had to talk to you a bit more about the angel. I hope you don’t mind.”

  I shook my head, my heart beating in staccato. “Not at all Dane. What about her?”

  He reached out a took my hand. “She wasn’t a figment of my imagination,”

  I swallowed hard and grabbed for my glass of Chianti. “What’s makes you think so?” I took a quick sip before setting the glass back on the table.

  “My Mom told me the legend.”

  I braced my hands against the table. “Your mom? But she was Swedish.”

  He shook his head. “No, Dad was Swedish. Mom was Irish.”

  The world suddenly tilted on its side and I thought I’d contracted vertigo as everything swirled around me. I squeezed his hand. “I don’t think I’m fully comprehending this.”

  He chuckled. “I know it’s a lot to take in. You see, I only have a sister. It’s just the two of us. Mom raised us without Dad. He died in Vietnam. She held tight to all the legends her family told her. Her mother was adamant about the true love fairy and she told us about her all the time. I wasn’t surprised when Tracy saw her, but when I did, well, I couldn’t ignore it.”

  “She told you the legend? And you believe it?” My questions were barely above a whisper. I blinked as I tried to focus on his face.

  He nodded. “She said it only happened to women.” He shrugged. “She was wrong.”

  “But, I…I…” Now faced with a case of brain freeze, I was struck speechless.

  He clapped his hands. “I wish I had a camcorder. No one would believe it at the college. Gabby has gone gabless.”

  I nodded. “I suppose I have been. This is so new to me and I can’t quite grasp it. I never thought you’d know about the legend, much less seem to believe in it.”

  He grabbed my hand again, rubbing it between the thumb and the forefinger. “I know. But it was so right, and I knew it should have been like this way a long time ago. I’ve known for a long time I was falling in love with you.”

  I bit my bottom lip. “You have? But you’re engaged.”

  He let out a joyous laugh. “Not anymore. Connie eloped to Cancun.”

  My mouth fell open. “Really? Is she crazy?”

  He shook his head as he bent across the table and kissed me quickly on the lips. “Nope. Just smart. She knew I was in love with someone else.”

  I stared at him. “But you never…”

  He nodded. “I know. Too valiant. But I was aching to take you in my arms. Now I will, if you’ll let me.”

  I smiled. “Before or after the cannoli?”

  He held up his hand for the waiter. “How about take-out?”

  Forever In My Heart

  Nancy Naigle

  Derek Hansen took his cup of coffee out on the front porch to enjoy the spring-like morning. Although a few seventy-degree days weren’t all that unusual for southern Virginia in February, the unseasonable warmth was a welcome reprieve from the chilly temperatures they’d weathered the week before.

  Derek balanced his mug on the arm of one of the Adirondack chairs and sat down. Turning back the cuffs of his denim shirt, he went through his mental checklist for the day. Sun flooded the front porch, and birds skittered in and out of the flower beds and trees in the front yard. As beautiful as the weather was today, he wouldn’t be one bit surprised if he woke up to snow flurries tomorrow. Virginia’s weather was unpredictable like that, but he was thankful for a fair-skied Valentine’s Day. He slugged back the rest of his coffee, went inside and grabbed his keys.

  The ride to Adams Grove was only a few short miles. Derek parked his SUV at the end of the block at Main Street and West End Avenue and walked down the sidewalk to Parker’s Family Pharmacy. The store wasn’t big, but they carried about anything someone could want. A hand-painted milk can propped the front door of the store wide open. A red bucket of chocolates sat on top of it, free for the taking. Derek snagged one of the silver-wrapped candies as he strolled inside.

  “Good morning,” a short, dark-haired woman called from behind the counter.

  “Happy Valentine’s Day, Mrs. Parker.”

  “You, too, Sugar.”

  “You better tell Mr. Parker to treat you good today, or there’ll be a line of us waiting to make you our Valentine,” Derek teased.

  “You go on, you devil you.” She blushed, looking pleased at the attention.

  Derek gave her a wink and headed for the last aisle on the right. Mrs. Parker used to teach at the elementary school. She held a special place in a lot of hearts in this town. The local school system had suffered a loss when Mr. Parker opened the pharmacy and she decided to work by his side.

  Bags of confections, stuffed animals and fancy heart-shaped boxes lined an entire aisle. By the end of the day these shelves would be nearly bare. Amid the flurry of pink and red, he spotted what he was looking for. He picked up the bag of candy hearts, smiling at the memories. There was the time he made Laney a necklace out of LUV U hearts, or the year she had to work late on Valentine’s Day and had to cancel their date. He’d rescued that evening by leaving a trail of pink hearts to the bathroom where he’d lit candles and drawn her a bubble bath.

  Someone pushed past him. He spun around, embarrassed and not sure how long he’d been standing there letting his mind wander down memory lane. He turned and headed to the front counter.

  By the time Derek paid Mrs. Parker and was on his way out the door, a line had formed at the register.

  Outside, cars lined up at the stoplight with their windows down, and people mingled on the sidewalk. The town council had made it their mission to see to it that Main Street in Adams Grove looked festive this holiday, and their mission had been accomplished. The local newspaper, The County Gazette, had been showcasing each of the merchants window displays all week long. This evening, final ballots would be cast, and the winner announced in Sunday’s edition.

  Derek walked down the block toward Floral & Hardy, enjoying the creativity of the merchants’ window displays, almost gawking like a doggoned tourist, and loving it.

  Cupids and collages of red, pink and white hearts were the theme. Valentine’s cakes and cupcakes filled the bakery window, but the smell was all bear claws. Max was known across five counties for his made-fresh-daily cinnamon rolls and bear claws. Derek’s stomach growled in response to the sweet smell, but he forged ahead.

  Even cranky Dr. Thurman, the town dentist, had been dragged into the window display competition. In his front window, cupid held a bow loaded with a giant toothbrush arrow. I’d hate to have to brush with that thing!

  Down the street, a young man balanced an armful of arrangements as he maneuvered toward the fluorescent green Floral & Hardy delivery van. Derek had gone to high school with Ted Hardy. He still remembered Ted’s dad freaking out when he’d heard that his son planned to open a flower shop. But Ted loved his business and his customers adored his floral creations. His window reflected his talents. A topiary cupid was framed by twinkle lights, and Ted might as well have stuffed the ballot box by hosting a coloring contest whose entries wallpapered the backdrop. Several proud parents had stopped to admire the artwork and display in the short time it took Derek to walk up the block. Ted, you’re a marketing genius. You’ll definitely get all those votes.

  Derek pushed open the tall wooden door of the old shop. He scanned the large space for Ted, but he wasn’t in sight. Instead, a blonde, probably in her early twenties, rushed past him with a vase of candy-colored carnations. Singing out a cheerful Happy Valentine’s Day, she shoved the arrangement in the cooler and hurried back to the counter.

  “Hi, I’m Brandy. How can I help you today?”

  Derek glanced around for Ted again, but before he could catch a glimpse of his old buddy Brandy was running down options in a high pitched voice that reminded him of sucking helium from ball
oons.

  “This is my favorite holiday,” Brandy said. “We have several pre-arranged bouquets in the case to choose from, or balloons. We have lots of balloons. I don’t know if Mr. Hardy will have time to do something custom. Oh, or wait, did you pre-order? Do you want flowers?”

  “No. I mean, yes.” Derek tried to keep the order of the machine-gun questions right. “I’m here to pick up an order.”

  “Oh, great. Your name, sir?”

  “Hansen.”

  Ted appeared through the swinging double doors that only half hid the back workroom.

  Derek was relieved at the sight of him.

  “Hey, man. Thought that might be you. I’ve got you covered,” Ted said, then disappeared as quickly as he’d appeared.

  Brandy shrugged and rushed to help the customer who had just walked in the door.

  Derek drummed his fingers on the counter keeping beat to the country music that echoed from the back of the shop. Discarded flower heads and stripped leaves that hadn’t made the cut littered the floor of Ted’s work area, and overflowed the trash bins at the edge of the work table.

  Ted dashed back to the counter with the special bouquet.

  “Here you go.” Ted placed the arrangement of long stem roses on the counter. No box, just twelve of the tightest deep red buds he could find, cascaded pageant-style and bound with a length of turquoise silk ribbon that was twice the length of the roses.

  Derek’s stomach clenched. “Perfect,” Derek said, his throat suddenly feeling dry. He let the silky slip of ribbon fall between his fingers, and reminded himself to breathe. Aside from the color, these roses were just like the white rosebuds Laney had carried on their wedding day. She’d been the most beautiful bride.

  “Oh. My. Gosh,” Brandy cried out. “I’d just be the happiest girl on earth if I got a bouquet like that.”

  Brandy’s giddy reaction shocked Derek back to the present.

  She continued to ramble on. “Those roses are so beautiful. Like Miss America or something. Your girl must be very special.” Brandy clutched her hands to her heart and smiled. “Or you’re just the most romantic man ever.”

  Derek wished that customer hadn’t made his decision so quickly and he’d gotten out before Brandy’s scene, but on the other hand she had a point. “She is the most special woman ever. Thank you.”

  Brandy touched the colorful ribbon that broke the chaos of red, pinks and whites in the store today. “So pretty. What an unusual color.”

  “Turquoise is her favorite color,” Ted said. “That ribbon is left over from their wedding.”

  Derek tugged on his shirt. His heart was pounding. He peeled four ATM-crisp twenties from his pocket. He placed them on the counter on their side, still bent from the heated fold in his pocket.

  Ted slipped the bills into the drawer without a word. The two exchanged a knowing look. Derek scooped the flowers into his arm, as if cradling a newborn baby, and turned to leave.

  He walked back down the block, put the flowers in the passenger seat of his SUV, and then went around to the driver’s side and got in. The sunlight beamed through the truck windows and warmed the delicate roses. Their fragrance filled the cab.

  When he got home, Derek went straight to the kitchen, pulled a plate from the cupboard and sat at the table. He dumped the bag of candy hearts out on the plate and started putting them in piles by saying. If he’d known the chalky candies were going to become tradition for he and Laney, he’d have chosen something he liked better. Something chocolate. But the cute sayings on the tiny hearts had seemed romantic at the time.

  He frowned as he picked through the pastel-colored hearts. Only a few of the traditional sayings he’d come to expect were in the mix. Sayings like TWEET ME and TOP CHEF replaced good old standards like KISS ME, and there was only one ANGEL in the whole bag.

  Derek set aside every 4 EVER and LUV U he found. He popped a TWEET ME into his mouth. Not bad. The new flavors tasted much better than he remembered.

  Satisfied everything was about ready, he checked his watch. Right on schedule.

  Derek had just enough time to shave and get dressed. His hands were shaking so much that he nicked himself three times. His face dotted with toilet paper over the cuts, he jumped in the shower. Wrapped in a towel, he picked out dress slacks and a white shirt, and then searched through his ties until he found the right one. He smiled, remembering the day Laney had given it to him. She’d been wearing nothing but that tie the first Valentine’s Day they spent together. He slid the fine silk around his neck and tugged the knot to tighten it. She’d said the soft green in the pattern reminded her of his eyes. He’d never really been a fan of green, but the memory of that night made this tie his favorite.

  He got dressed and checked himself in the mirror one last time before putting on his sport coat. Derek opened the top drawer of his dresser. He took the black velvet box out of the drawer and opened it. The diamond and emerald-cut ruby ring sparkled. He slipped the ring on his pinky—it only went to his knuckle. He tucked the ring in the pocket of his sport coat, went to the kitchen and loaded his other pocket with a handful of the special heart candy, then headed out the front door.

  “This is it,” he thought.

  He drove across town, taking the long way. He drew a deep breath and tried to convince himself that the crushing feeling in his chest wasn’t a heart attack.

  Spring Church Road twisted through the outer edge of Adams Grove, past the old fishing pond. He ran a finger between his collar and his damp neck.

  Finally, he pulled into the driveway. Idling down the path, he headed for the familiar spot. He parked as close as he could and carried the bundle of flowers across the well-manicured lawn. The start of a tradition. His heart felt so full at the thought of how much Laney loved traditions, that he had to smile. She had that affect on him. Always had. She was the best part of his life. The smartest thing he’d ever done.

  He got down on one knee.

  Without a word, he pulled his handkerchief from his coat pocket and wiped the dirt and rain spots from the pink marble headstone, polishing it to a shine. With the sweep of his hand, his fingers lingered on each etched letter that spelled her name, CAROLINE ELAINE HANSEN. Loving Wife scrolled in a feminine script beneath her name.

  “Happy Valentine’s Day.” His words were barely a whisper, his throat tight as each one tore at the scar that Laney had left on his heart.

  “I miss you. Every day. Every way. I remember the way your cheek felt so smooth under my thumb. How warm your tears were when I’d sweep them away.” He swallowed and smiled. “How your tiny feet could wake me with a super-size chill when you climbed into bed after I was already asleep. You had the coldest feet.” He blinked back tears. “I didn’t really mind.”

  “I got these for you.” He placed the roses at the base of the headstone. “Your favorite.”

  He lifted his face to the sun’s rays. “It’s a turquoise morning. The sky matches the ribbon. This is the kind of morning you always loved best.”

  Derek rested his hand on the headstone. “Remember the last time we celebrated Valentine’s Day with weather this nice? I packed a picnic lunch. PBJ, the only thing I could make, and we went out on the boat. You loved the sandwiches. I proposed on the spot. I didn’t even have a ring, but you said yes.”

  He scooped a handful of conversation hearts from his coat pocket and scattered them in front of the headstone.

  “I’m keeping up our traditions.” A breeze swept the turquoise ribbon into the air. It brushed his hand. He caught and held the ribbon, wishing it was her hand. I knew you’d know I was here.

  He took her wedding ring from his pocket and held it tight. “I love you, Laney. You will always be my special Valentine.”

  Be Mine

  Margaret Ethridge

  Turn right in two hundred feet. Turn right...Turn right…Recalculating….

  Jack Rudolph sneered at the disapproving tone emanating from the dash-mounted GPS. “I would turn r
ight if there was a street there, but I’m not driving into that lake, lady. Who do I look like, Michael Scott?”

  As the machine recalibrated its directions, Jack let off the accelerator. While Susie Garmin the GPS got her bearings, he drummed the steering wheel with his fingers and whistled The Office theme song. Reaching into the console, he fished two candy conversation hearts from an open box. He glanced at the messages printed on the pastel candies and smirked as he popped them into his mouth.

  The GPS sprang to life again, spouting directions with renewed vigor. Jack’s foot landed a tad too heavily on the gas, and the compact rental leapt forward.

  Turn left in two hundred feet….

  “Gotcha.” The GPS repeated her instructions three more times before the easy left was completed. “I did. I did,” Jack growled through clenched teeth.

  He drew a deep breath, trying to calm his scattered nerves. The heady scent of roses warmed by the car’s overtaxed heater nearly choked him. He dialed down the temperature with a flick of his wrist and smiled as he spotted the sign marking Ellie’s apartment complex.

  “Finally,” he breathed.

  The GPS issued another string of demands and he jabbed at the screen, effectively silencing his electronic Sherpa. “I can handle it from here.”

  Jack glanced at the tissue-wrapped roses on the passenger seat and covered the bouquet with a protective hand as he swung a sharp right into the complex. He tapped the brake, slowing the car’s momentum enough to scan the building numbers. He spotted number seven and his smile made a break for it, flexing into a full-on grin.

  “Lucky number seven,” he murmured.

  Jack steered the rental into a spot marked ‘VISITOR’ and killed the engine. He pushed the door open with his foot and a stiff gust of February wind stole his breath. Grimacing, he cradled the bouquet in the crook of his arm, stuffed the box of candy hearts into the back pocket of his jeans, and groped for an enormous heart-shaped box of chocolates.

 

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