Weaving the Strands (15 page)

Chapter 32

Glenn shifted the small velvet box
from his jacket to his pants pocket. His grandmother’s emerald, now flanked by
two clusters of tiny diamonds, was elegant and dignified. The jeweler in town
had done a wonderful job of refurbishing the ring. He chuckled as he remembered
the astonished look on the young clerk’s face when he requested a fancy ring
box because he was going to propose.
Ha!
Kids hadn’t cornered the market
on love. He felt it more strongly now than ever.

The emerald had lain hidden in his safety deposit
box for decades. Nancy had never liked the large square-cut stone—or
maybe it was just that Nancy and his grandmother had never gotten along. He
fervently hoped Gloria would love the ring. He felt certain she would; the
stone complemented her deep green eyes.

He paced up and down the living room, rehearsing
his speech. He would propose when he walked her home from the next dance. And
did that woman love to dance! She was always happiest during their Sunday night
sessions with the Westbury West Coast Swing Society. She praised him
constantly, telling him he was catching on fast and soon she’d be battling
other women for partner privileges. He was self-aware enough to know that she
was being kind. If left to his own devices, he’d have thrown in the towel weeks
ago. Still, he was beginning to enjoy himself, and if dancing made her happy,
he was willing to go along.

He checked his watch and decided to head over to
her place.
It’s showtime,
he thought wryly. He checked his pocket for
the ring for the thousandth time and set off.

***

Gloria was in particularly high
spirits that night. Her life had taken on such unexpected richness in the past
few months. Finding a wonderful beau at her age had been unthinkable. Now here
was Glenn Vaughn, knocking at her door, collecting her to go to a dance. Her
heart soared every time she saw him.

Gloria opened the door quickly.

“You’re early,” she said and stopped short. “Are
you feeling all right, Glenn?” she asked, peering up at him. “You’re flushed.
Are you getting sick? We don’t have to go tonight, you know. Maybe you should
go home and go back to bed.”

Glenn held up a hand.

“Stop. I’m fine. Fit as a fiddle; right as rain.
Nothing wrong with me that dancing with my best gal won’t cure. Now come on. I
want to be there for the first dance.”

Moving to the music with the familiar steps helped
calm Glenn’s jittery nerves. Other than an odd tendency to put his hand in his
pocket, Gloria felt Glenn was doing really well. She was sorry to leave when
the last dance was over.

“Let’s see if the DJ will keep the music going,”
she said as they stepped off the floor. “Sometimes he does that, you know. If
enough of us want to keep on dancing.”

“I’d like to get going,” Glenn replied quickly.
“I’ve got something else I want to do tonight.”

Gloria turned to him in surprise. “Oh, all right.
I had no idea. You should have said something. We could have left earlier, you
know.”

“I didn’t want to go earlier, but I do now,” he
replied cryptically.

He took her hand and placed it in the crook of his
elbow. They left the hall and strolled through the still night air in
companionable silence.

When they reached her door, Gloria quickly
unlocked it and stepped over the threshold.

“I won’t keep you,” she said, turning to him. “I
know you have other things to do. Talk to you tomorrow,” she said, leaning over
to kiss him.

“May I come inside?” he asked simply.

“Of course,” she said, stepping aside and turning
on a lamp in the living room. Looking perplexed, she asked, “Can I get you something?”

“No,” he replied firmly. “Come. Sit down.” He
steered her to a chair by the lamp. “I have something to ask you.”

Gloria settled herself into the chair and looked
expectantly at Glenn. She was first confused and then astonished when he, with
some effort, knelt down on one knee and took her hand.

“Gloria, I love you with all my heart. Much is
written about the joys of first love, but I believe the greatest joy of life
may be last love. The one you’re going to love until you die. For me, Gloria,
that one is you.”

A tear rolled down her cheek, and Glenn gently
wiped it away.

“You’ve brought so much light and energy back into
my life, my dear. So much fun. And you’ve inspired me to take on challenges
that I wouldn’t have had the courage to tackle if you didn’t believe in me so
completely. I’m
more
with you. I cannot imagine living without you. I
hope you feel the same way.”

He shifted from one knee to the other. “I know we
haven’t been a couple for long, but at our ages, we don’t have the luxury of
time.”

He retrieved the box from his pocket and flipped
it open. “Gloria—my beloved Gloria—will you do me the honor of
marrying me?”

Gloria, who had been keeping her tears at bay, now
let them loose.

“Oh, Glenn. Why are you doing this? I love you; I
truly do. I’m happier than I’ve ever been in my entire life. But I can’t marry
you. I’m so much older than you, and at our ages that accounts for a lot. I
watched how wonderfully you cared for Nancy in her final days. I don’t want you
to have to do that again. That wouldn’t be fair. It’s very likely that I’ll be
the first to go. I couldn’t bear being a burden to you. I simply won’t do that
to you.”

Glenn rocked back on his heels in shock. He
stiffly got to his feet and snapped the box shut. Gloria leaned forward and
took his hand.

“I’m so very sorry. You are a wonderful, dear man.
I wouldn’t hurt you for the world.”

Glenn nodded slowly. He hadn’t considered that she
would refuse him. He cleared his throat.

“I’d better be going,” he said slowly.

Gloria began to rise to walk Glenn to the door.

“No. Don’t get up,” he stated firmly. “I’ll see
myself out.”

***

Gloria didn’t sleep that night and
neither did Glenn. He scribbled a quick note and stuck it in her door sometime
before six o’clock the following morning, saying he knew she would understand
that he needed a day or two to sort out his feelings. Understand she did, but
the hours dragged with a heaviness she had never known. Had she done the right
thing? She knew she had. Her decision had been strong and loving; she was
putting him first. She’d been a front row spectator to his agony and despair as
he cared for Nancy. Once in a lifetime was enough for anyone. She prayed
earnestly that they could get past this and resume their relationship as if
nothing had happened.

Gloria occupied herself with housekeeping and
correspondence, but she felt like she was holding her breath under water. She
needed to hear from Glenn.

***

When Glenn got over the initial
shock and embarrassment of being turned down—on his knees, proffering an
emerald-and-diamond ring, no less—his thoughts turned to Nancy and all
they had gone through. Was Gloria right? She was older and more likely to need
care. Should he spare himself a replay of the wrenching experience of watching
a loved one die? As he considered this, he knew with absolute certainty that if
Gloria were sick, he would care for her as he had for Nancy. Whether they were
married or not. Whether she wanted him to or not. Gloria’s objections were
groundless. He knew what he had to do.

***

On the morning of the third day,
Gloria found a vase filled with white roses on her doorstep, a note tucked by
its side. Her heart skipped a beat as she brought them to the table and sat
down to read his message:

My dearest Gloria,

Your objections are without foundation. You
are my true love, for the rest of our lives. Whatever might befall you, I will
be there for you, to care for and comfort you whether we are married or not.
You must know that. I’m an old-fashioned man and believe in the sanctity of
marriage.

Consider this from Ecclesiastes 4:9–12:

Two are better than one,

because they have a good return for their labor;

If either of them falls down,

one can help the other up.

But pity anyone who falls

and has no one to help them up.

Also, if two lie down together,

they will keep each other warm.

But how can one keep warm alone?

Though one may be overpowered,

two can defend themselves.

A cord of three strands is not quickly broken.

I believe with every fiber of my being that
we should bind our strands together and finish this journey as husband and
wife. If you will, if I am the man for you, you only have to let me know. I’m
not going to pressure you or bring this up again. I’ll pick you up for dinner
tomorrow night. Pray on this. I’ll abide by your decision.

Yours faithfully and forever,

Glenn

Gloria reached for a tissue to dab at her eyes and
re-read the note. What a complete fool she had been. If God had seen fit to
send this wonderful man to her, then she was going to accept him and be as kind
and good to him as humanly possible for as long as possible. Only He knew what
was in store for them. She’d have to trust in that, as she always had.

Gloria reached for her Bible and found the verse
she was looking for.

***

When Glenn stepped out of his door
the following morning, he was greeted with a homemade apple pie and a simple
one-line note from Gloria that read:

2 Samuel 12:7

Thou art the man.

Glenn flew back into his living room and snatched
the ring box from the end table where he had tossed it the other night. He was
heading straight to Gloria’s. What was that lyric to the song that was so
popular with the kids? “If you want it, better put a ring on it?” Well … he was
going to put a ring on it!

Chapter 33

Glenn and Gloria were finishing up
lunch at Pete’s Bistro in celebration of their engagement. His grandmother’s
emerald had delighted Gloria, but the ring was far too big. They had dropped it
at the jeweler the day before, Gloria telling them to “put a rush on it, like
never before.” The jeweler called first thing in the morning to tell them it
was ready and Gloria insisted that they set out straight away to pick it up.
No
matter what age, you don’t want to get between a woman and her rock,
Glenn
realized.

He was helping Gloria with her coat when Laura
appeared in the archway that joined her bakery to her husband’s restaurant. She
made a beeline to their table.

“What’s this good news I’m hearing about the two
of you?” she said excitedly.

Glenn and Gloria exchanged a bemused glance. “Why,
whatever do you mean, dear?” Gloria asked sweetly.

“Your engagement, of course! Valerie from the
jewelers just called and said that you’re engaged and have the most amazing
vintage ring,” she announced gleefully. “Congratulations, you two. I’m so happy
for you. We all are. Now let me see that ring!”

Gloria held out her hand proudly. “Thank you. Very
kind of everyone to be so interested in what two oldsters like us are doing.”

“Not at all. Are you kidding? You’re the town’s
main topic of conversation. This ring is simply gorgeous. Did he surprise you
with it? Down on one knee and everything?” Laura glanced over at Glenn. “Sorry.
None of my business. I just love weddings. I do beautiful wedding cakes, you
know. They’re my favorite things to make.”

“That’s all right, dear. We’re flattered by your
interest. Yes, the ring was a complete surprise and I adore it. And he made a
traditional proposal.”

Laura sighed dreamily. “That’s so romantic. When’s
the big day? Will you have a ceremony and reception?”

Glenn laughed. “We haven’t gotten that far yet.
I’ve just managed to get the ring on her finger.”

“Do let me know. I’d love to bake a cake for you.
Again, congratulations,” Laura said as Gloria took Glenn’s arm and pressed him
toward the door.

“Sweet girl,” Gloria remarked when they were
outside on the sidewalk. “But how silly. Can you imagine having a wedding at
our ages? Who’d want to come, anyway?”

“I can imagine it perfectly well,” Glenn stated
emphatically. “Why not? We may be past throwing the garter and the bouquet, but
I think a ceremony to mark the occasion is in order. Something dignified and joyful.”

“You’ve thought this through, haven’t you?” Gloria
remarked, looking up at Glenn.

“Yes, I have. I’d rather not rush off to the
justice of the peace.”

“Well, no,” Gloria replied slowly. “In our day,
people always thought the bride was pregnant. We can’t have that, now can we?”

They both laughed.

“Seriously, Gloria, why don’t we get married when
your son comes for Thanksgiving? I don’t want a big, fancy wedding, but I want
our marriage to be sanctified in a religious ceremony with our family and
friends present.”

Gloria looked into Glenn’s earnest blue eyes and
knew he was right. “In that case,” she said, “why don’t we walk over to Town
Hall to get our marriage license? We’ve got a lot to do. We’ve got a wedding to
plan.”

***

By the time they left the clerk’s office,
license in hand, the solid outline of their wedding had been formed. When they
ran into Mayor Martin on their way out, the couple exchanged a conspiratorial
glance. Glenn was the first to speak.

“Mayor Martin,” he said, extending his hand.
“Glenn Vaughn from Fairview Terraces.”

“Yes, of course I remember you, Mr. Vaughn,” she
said, shaking hands.

“This is my fiancée, Gloria Harper,” he said
proudly, turning to Gloria. “We’re wondering if you’ll be attending the
Thanksgiving Prayer Breakfast at Fairview Terraces. It’s going to be especially
meaningful, and we’d be honored if you’d be there.”

Maggie smiled. “I’d be delighted to, wouldn’t miss
it for the world,” she answered, all the while thinking that her family would
be in town for Thanksgiving and she would need to be at home, in her kitchen,
cooking. Did being a politician mean that she was always on call? Was she
letting this job take precedence over her personal life again? Maggie stifled a
heavy sigh and turned her attention back to this sweet couple. “I’ve got my
kids coming to town for Thanksgiving, so I’ll do my best to be there,” she
said, feeling slightly better about herself having amended her answer.

“Bring them along,” Gloria stated. “We’re counting
on you to be there.”

Maggie nodded her agreement and returned to her
office as Glenn and Gloria headed toward the exit.

***

Maggie was still thinking about the
prayer breakfast as she pulled into the supermarket parking lot on her way home
from Town Hall. She would pick up groceries and something from the delicatessen
for dinner.

She was waiting in line at the register when a
neatly dressed man in his mid-fifties approached her.

 “Mayor Martin? I’m Tom Barton,” he said,
extending his hand. “I teach math at the high school. I need to know what’s
happening with my pension. I’ve only got another ten years to work. If the
pension fund goes belly up, I have to find a new job. Move away from Westbury
and teach somewhere else.”

“We’re working through this as fast as we can. We
have to be deliberate in our approach and not make any snap decisions. The
pension fund hasn’t gone belly up, but it’s suffered significant losses.”

Maggie sighed. At the end of a long day, this was
the last conversation she wanted to have. Couldn’t she even buy groceries in
peace?

“How long have you been at the high school?”

“Since I graduated from college—over thirty
years. I’ve got everything tied up in the pension fund.” Tom waved at a
slightly younger man dressed in overalls and work boots. “That’s my neighbor.
He works at the water department. Been there for twenty-five years. We’ve been talking
about this mess and our wives are worried sick.”

Tom’s neighbor joined them. “Where the hell’s my
money?” he asked, his voice projecting to the produce section. “You can’t get
away with this! We’re going to throw all you crooks out of office and into jail
if we don’t get what’s coming to us.”

Maggie pulled her shopping cart out of line and
turned to the two men. “We’re working very hard to identify the scope of the
problem and to implement solutions. It’s going to take time. I appreciate how
distressing this is for you. Transparency is important, and we’re doing our
best to give you information as soon as it’s available.”

The man pulled a rumpled paper out of the pocket
of his overalls. “This is a petition, signed by people who want you removed
from office. I’ve already collected six pages of signatures. We don’t want information;
we want our money back in the pension fund. And you don’t have much time,” he
said, shaking the paper in her face.

A crowd had gathered around them, trapping Maggie.
She clutched the handles of the shopping cart and searched for words that would
diffuse the situation. “I understand your concerns,” she stammered, as the
store manager broke into the circle.

“What’s the problem here?” he asked. His eyes
locked on Maggie. “Let’s give the mayor some space, will you? She was just
leaving,” he said as he took her elbow and steered her toward the exit.

Maggie made her way quickly to her car. To hell
with her groceries, she thought. And to hell with this store; she’d take her
business elsewhere. She’d just been thrown out of a supermarket. What was her
life coming to?