Prince Charming

         "Single ladies!" Rita called from the stage, microphone in hand. "Up front. The bride is about to toss her bouquet."

"That means you, Debbie!" by best friend Kathy said, elbowing me in the ribs as we stood on the dance floor among other smiling and laughing guests at Marie and Shawn's wedding reception.

"No ring on your finger," she added with another poke in the ribs.
"No Prince Charming in my life, either," I said.

"Catch the bouquet!" This time Kathy gave me a firm shove out of the crowd to where maybe ten or fifteen ladies—in their teens and early twenties probably—certainly not my age—forty—gathered in front of the stage, eagerly awaiting Marie's flower toss.

I edged up behind the group of short-skirted ladies. I never expected Marie's throw to sail over the group and nearly over my outstretched hands. I snared the bundle of red roses, and at the same time I felt my heels slip on the polished hardwood floor. My arms flailing—I held on to the roses—I crashed back into the arms of an unknown rescuer, which was good news. But the bad news is we both tumbled backward into an inglorious heap on the Starlight Ballroom's dance floor.

People crowded around, concern written on their faces. "You guys all right?" they asked. "Anything broken?"

"I'm fine," I said.

I rolled off the person beneath me, knelt beside the form, and peered straight into the blue eyes of a man—probably my age—who had tried to save me. Smiling a killer smile, white teeth flashing, he said, "Nice catch."

"You, too," I said, my heart thumping—he was soo handsome. "You okay?"

"Never been better," he said, sitting up.

I looked at the flowers still clutched in my left hand, then back at the man. Laughter rippled forth from the people hovering over us. Phone cameras clicked. My face heated up with embarrassment. Then the man and I helped each other to our feet.

In a corner where we sat catching out breath at a table, he said, "Tyler Greene. Friend of the groom. You're—?"

"Debbie Harris. Friend of the bride. How did you know I was going to fall?"

"I didn't. I was walking by and saw the bouquet sailing toward you. I stopped to watch. You jumped—"

"I jumped? I don't remember that."

"You jumped—"

"No wonder I fell."

"—caught the flowers, and tumbled into my arms. Lucky me," he added with another killer smile.

Was it my imagination or did a strange excitement hum in the air between us? We sat and talked and talked. He owned Ty's Auto Body Shop; I was a dental technician. He was a widower. I gathered from our conversation he had never thought of looking for anyone else. I'd never married, but I didn't tell him I thought romance had long ago passed me by. I was a hopeless case.

Music started. People drifted onto the dance floor. As my heart started speeding up, Ty asked, "Would you like to dance?"

Panic nearly choked me. Part of me wanted to dance with him, my arms flung around him. Part of me wanted to run. I decided to run. "Um...I should pay the restroom a visit."

"I'll wait," he said.

Before I could reach the rest room, Kathy intercepted me and backed me outside into the warm night air, stars and moon overhead. "Oh wow!" she said. "Do you know who you flattened on the dance floor?"

"Tyler Greene. He's very nice, but..."

"He's the most handsome, eligible bachelor in town. He's your Prince Charming. Don't you just love his blue eyes? Don't let him get away."

"Nonsense. It's way too late in my life for a Prince Charming."

"It' never too late for anything. You go, girl!"

After my rest room visit, I found Ty sitting dutifully at the table, waiting for me. His blue eyes seemed to say, Glad you came back. He stood up. "Thought I'd wait—if only to protect your roses."

I peered at the roses. Still fresh and lovely. I peered at Tyler. Still handsome and smiling. I could tell him it was way past my bedtime. I should go home. But home to what? I asked myself?

My empty house?

"I'd loved to dance," I said, my heart approaching panic speed.

"Wonderful."

As Ty folded me into his arms and we drifted into a slow dance, my step seemed to match his perfectly. I gulped as he pressed me closer, as if we were one.I didn't know if possibly Prince Charming had found me or if I'd found him. But the way my heart continued to beat, I knew Kathy had been right: It wasn't too late for anything. Not even for Prince Charming.

The End
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All the Time in the World

            "I found a lump," my wife said, lowering her blue eyes. "They want to do a biopsy."

I sat across from her at the kitchen table, 7:30 A.M. on a Wednesday morning. Our ten-year-old daughter, Kelly, was already off to school. It's the first time I'd been in the kitchen for maybe two months—Mandy and I'd been separated for six months.

"A l-lump?" My throat felt clogged.

Mandy nodded, not looking at me. "Left side.

"They're going to do a surgical biopsy."

"Surgical? That means...?"

"Remove part of the lump under a general anesthesia. "

"Oh, wow."

She hesitated a second. "My grandmother died of breast cancer... My aunt Lillian..."

"That doesn’t mean anything," I said quickly. "Not with the treatments they have these days. Besides, your mom's fine."

"It's probably nothing," Mandy said, and sat straight up. "What I wanted to talk to you about, Roger, is—well, I'm going to the hospital Friday. Could you pick up Kelly from school and keep her for the weekend? Maybe take her to school Monday? I know how busy you are..."

I detected a sudden edge to Mandy's voice. "Nonsense," I said. "I've cut way back. Who's going to look after you?"

"Mom's arriving today. She'll stay with me through Monday. They'll give me pain mediation. I'll be fit as ever."

I wanted to cup Mandy's face in my hands. I wanted to kiss her. Tell her I loved her. But I didn't want to upset her. Or complicate things. So before I left the house, I simply held her cold right hand tightly and said what I honestly believed to be true: "Everything will be all right."

Our separation had been my fault. I was a corporate lawyer, a senior partner, my nose always cranked to the grindstone. I came home every night and buried my face in law books and briefs. I couldn't believe Mandy and I had fallen out of love, but I know my being a workaholic had sucked the life out of our marriage. The separation had been her idea. "To see where we stand," she'd said.

When I picked up Kelly after school Friday, she hopped into the car and announced, "I know what's going on, Dad. But I think Mom told me only what she wanted me to hear—is she going to die?"

Leave it to a ten-year-old to be perfectly blunt. "Not at all. She's going to be fine."

"But we don't know for sure, do we?"

"Not for sure. But we have to believe."

"Do you still love her?" I felt Kelly's blue-eyed gaze searching my face. Blue eyes just like her mom's.

"Of course. I will always love your mom."

"She loves you, too—I know she does. So I think it's totally stupid what you guys are doing. And I just hate it that you're not home all the time. Even if you had to spend all the time on work."

"I'm cutting back," I said. "I really am. I miss being with you and Mom."

"You can't like living alone in a condo by yourself."

"You're right—I don't."

I took Kelly out for supper at Applebee's Friday night, to dance practice Saturday morning, and to soccer practice Saturday afternoon—Saturday, a day I usually dropped by the office to spend the day.

That night Kelly and I decided it was time to call Mom. But Mandy was sleeping, so Kelly chatted with her grandmother for a bit and then handed the phone to me. "She's doing fine," Grandma Helen said. "She has a follow-up appointment next week to discuss the biopsy results. Have you and Mandy talked lately?"

"Talked...?"

"About ending this foolish separation. You two need each other, and Kelly needs both of you."

 By Sunday afternoon, Kelly and I couldn't wait any longer to see her mom. At the house, after Kelly and Mandy hugged gingerly and a bit tearfully, Grandma whisked Kelly away into the kitchen, leaving Mandy and me alone in the living room. "You okay?" I asked.

"Perfect. A little sore." Then Mandy's bottom lip stared to quiver—a sign she was going to cry. "I've missed you, Roger."

Kelly burst into the living room. "Dad, Grandma wants to know if you've got time to stay for dinner. It's pot roast."

My eyes darted toward Mandy. "It's up to your mom," I said.

"I've got all the time in the world."

"We'd all love to have you," Mandy said, smiling through her tears.

"Cool!" Kelly said, as she whirled and took off for the kitchen.

And then, my heart hammering, I cupped my wife's face in my hands, kissed her, and told her I loved her. But that's not all. Mandy's biopsy turned out negative, and I'm back home. I really do have all the time in the world.

The End

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An Unexpected Valentine

"I'm sorry," Charlie said softly. "I didn't mean to upset you."

I lifted my chin. "No, no. It's all right. I'm here to prove to myself I'm over being dumped on Valentine's Day night. Right here. At this very table. I'm ready to move on."

          Charlie the waiter stood over my table in Mama Joy's Supper club and looked down at me, transfixed. A menu in his hand, he was just as I remembered him—tall and blonde with lovely blue eyes. Quite handsome.

"I never expected to see you again," he said, and smiled. He wore black slacks and a red shirt, his uniform for tonight. "But I'm delighted."

I pulled my chair closer to the tiny table and smoothed out the red tablecloth. Diners crowed the club; soft dinner chatter rippled everywhere.

"Valentine's Day night last year," I said, "was the worst night of my life."

"The guy was a jerk. You must've waited two hours before he showed up."

I closed my eyes a second at the memory.

"I'm sorry," Charlie said softly. "I didn't mean to upset you."

I lifted my chin. "No, no. It's all right. I'm here to prove to myself I'm over being dumped on Valentine's Day night. Right here. At this very table. I'm ready to move on."

"Good for you. Are you waiting for someone else this evening?"

I shook my head. "I'm alone."

"May I suggest our combo—steak, lobster tail, baked potato, and tossed salad. Choice of dressing. Something to drink?"

"A glass of white wine, perhaps."

Charlie bowed and disappeared.

That night a year ago while I sat at this table, waiting and waiting for Alex Knight, Charlie the waiter stopped at my table several times, asking patiently with a warm smile, "May I bring you anything? Are you all right?" I kept replying, "Nothing. I'm perfectly fine."

When Alex finally did show up all breathless, he sat down and said he was sorry he was late—he couldn't get away from the office. He knew I was thinking about marriage, but he wasn’t ready for a commitment. He thought he should tell me before I expected more than he could give. He apologized for hurting me this way, especially on Valentine's Day, and said he simply had to do this—right now—the sooner the better. It was the best for both of us.

I bolted from Mama Joy's Supper Club and staggered into the snowy night through the rear exit door, chocking with tears and embarrassment.

"White wine," Charlie said, snapping me back to reality and setting a sparkling glass of wine in front of me on the table. Then he cleared his throat and asked, "May I sit down?"

I thought it strange he should ask to sit with me since the place was bustling with customers, and he surely had other tables to wait. But I said, "If you like."

He leaned across the table. "I want to tell you something...something that may help you feel better. Even after all this time."

I looked at him curiously. "All right."

"I saw you dash out the exit door that night. What you didn't see is that a woman waited impatiently for your date in front by the register. I suspect she waited to make sure he broke up with you. A blonde. She'd probably given him an ultimatum. Do it now!"

I shivered. "Madison Farnsworth. He married her in the spring."

"Don't you see? This guy set you free. He did you a favor."

"I know. It just took me a long while to realize that."

Charlie smiled—I loved his smile. "Look," he said, "I'm going to take a chance here. My name's Charlie Joy..." He said his mom and dad owned the supper club. He worked here as kid sweeping floors, busing tables, washing dishes. Now he helped his folks out on busy nights once or twice a year, waiting tables. He owned his own business, Quality Home Repair.

I sat back in my chair, amazed. "I'm Eileen Hanson," I said. "I'm in real estate. I've seen your remodels. When I sell an older home, I always refer the buyer to your company—in case they want to make improvements." I shook my head. "I don't believe it..." My voice trailed off.

Charlie nudged the menu toward me. "Have you made a selection?"

I sipped my wine. "The combo will be fine."

"An excellent choice." He swallowed. He rubbed his head of blonde hair. "May I join you? Dinner will be compliments of the house, a Valentine's Day gift."

I stared into his soft blue eyes; I felt flushed. And tongue-tied.

"My mom and dad," Charlie said, "will understand my bailing on them and dining with the most beautiful lady in the place."

I blinked back tears. I remembered how bitterness overwhelmed me when I sat in this chair last year. I tried to speak now but a lump had invaded my throat. Finally, I managed, "This is so...unexpected."

"Perhaps an unexpected Valentine is the very best kind."

He touched my hand with his fingertips. I felt a spark and said, "I think you're right."

The End

Out of Uniform

I found the driver of the abandoned car. He was plodding along the roadside toward town. Snow whirled eerily through the night, cutting the visibility almost to zero. He turned and waved frantically, obviously trying to make sure I didn't pass him by.

Pulling off to the side of the road, I push-buttoned my passenger's side window down. He pulled his parka hood off and stuck his head in. "Can I hook a ride?" he asked.

"Are you Christopher Hanson?"

"Yes, yes—how did you know?" He was shivering, his teeth chattering.

"Checked the registration on your car back there—you left the doors unlocked. Hop in."

"Thanks, I'm nearly frozen to death."

He whipped the squad's door open and piled into the passenger's seat. "Cold out there," he said.

"About ten below. What happened?"

He stared at me. I think for the first time he realized he was talking to a lady cop. "Car conked out," he said. "I'm lucky I got it off onto the shoulder. Cell phone's dead. I know your next question: What am I doing out on a night like this?"

"Exactly."

"I'm a pediatrician. Got an emergency call from the hospital—the delivery of twins over in Goose Lake. All went well."

I cast a glance at him. He appeared strikingly handsome with wavy black hair worn a little long. Then I chided myself. I was a lady cop in uniform. I had no business even thinking he was handsome.

"Usually in weather like this it's best to stay with your vehicle," I said. "Wait for help."

He shrugged sheepishly. "I got impatient. "

"What do you want to do about your car?"

"Call a wrecker tomorrow. I wouldn't ask anyone to come out on a Saturday night like this. What time is it?"

"Almost ten. I'll give you a ride home."

He said he lived in an apartment above the Delmar Bank. His office was just down the street from the bank. On the way, he asked me if I liked being a lady cop.

I said I did, and he said he liked being a pediatrician—especially in a rural area like this where all the surrounding little towns were in dire need of a physician within driving distance.

His voice was warm and deep, a pleasant sound on a cold night.

We discovered neither one of us was married. Not even going with anyone. Both the same age. Thirty-five. He said I could call him Chris instead of Doctor. And I said he could call me Michelle instead of Officer.

The thought that we were both single made my heart speed up. But again I chided myself. I was an officer of the law, in uniform, on duty. Shame on me! for letting my thoughts wander.

Just inside of town, a Kwik Stop loomed on our right, the convenience store's lights sparkly in the snowfall. "Want a cup of coffee?" Chris asked.

"All right."

I parked in front of the store. Chris dashed in.

When he came back out, I reached over and pushed the door open for him.  He slid in, a cup of coffee in each hand. With the dome light momentarily on, I glimpsed a good look at him. Handsome, indeed. His soft brown eyes met mine. Held. My heart rate spiked. Michelle! Stop! The door closed. The dome light blinked out.

He smiled. "You rescue many strangers on snowy nights?"

"A few." I couldn't deny it: His warm smile warmed me more than the coffee cup I held. We drank, and I said, "How will you get to your car tomorrow to meet the wrecker?"

"I don't know—I'll have to call someone."

"Call Fred's garage. He'll stop and pick you up. "

I backed out of the Kwik Stop parking lot and drove down the street to the Delmar Bank, where I parked in front of the building.

"Thanks for everything," he said. He reached out, and his hand closed over mine in a firm, mittened handshake. "I owe you..."

"No you don't," I said. "This is part of my job."

We said good night. I hated to see him leave. I wished I'd met him while I was wearing a dress. Or jeans.

After my twelve-hour shift that morning, the sky bright and sunny, I drove home, changed, and then stopped along the recently plowed highway just as Fred was getting ready to tow Chris's car away. I pulled off to the side of the road, jumped out of my car, and ambled over to him.

"What are you doing here?" he said. "Where's your cruiser?"

"Finished my shift. Thought I'd check things out. What about your car?"

"Fuel pump, probably. Fred said he'd take care of it. " Then, "Look, I really do owe you. How about a monster breakfast somewhere?"

I don't know why I hesitated.

"Up all night and part of the morning," Chris said,  "you must be hungry."

"All right, I know a place."

Chris yelled to Fred that he was riding with me.

Chris and I tromped through the snow to my car. "You...look different..." He shot me that warm smile again. "Jeans. Pea coat. Stocking cap. Hair down."

"Is that good?"

"Very."

I smiled back. I couldn't wait to sit across from him at a breakfast table. Chat some more. Out of uniform.

The End