Dear Gentle Readers:
I've had several questions about the short story "The Christmas Interloper", and now I'd like to answer them for you.
The story is non-fiction. "Emma" is, indeed, Belinda (me!), and it happens to have a very happy ending. For both your reading enjoyment and entertainment, I provide for you "the rest of the story"...taken from an email recently sent to family and friends of the bride-to-be.
Happy Reading!
* * * * * * * * * * * * * * *
Dear Family & Friends,
As I sit writing this email, I am also planning my wedding which will take place on June 26, 2010. Yes, it has all happened rather unexpectedly and suddenly. While we plan for a new life together, we also have established a time of reflection, prayer, and courtship so that we may confirm that this is the right path for our respective and joint lives at this time.
I am actually marrying my high school sweetheart. Teddy Ashcraft and I met and dated when I was 16 and he was 20. He was in the military at that time and we met at the Baptist church we both attended in Killeen, Texas. Being a mere 16 years old, my parents had to "inspect and approve" of him dating their young daughter. But he passed the Alice and B.T. test, and we dated for about a year -- as I remember it. During my senior year, he was transferred to Alaska and I subsequently graduated from high school. While he wanted to marry me at that time, I told him I needed to go to college, and so I did.
As Paul Harvey says, "the rest of the story" you already know. I met and married my college sweetheart, Tim. We were happily married for almost 25 years when cancer struck and took his life. Next month, in fact, will be the 5-year anniversary of his death. That doesn't seem possible, but time has a way of marching on -- with or without you.
Just prior to the Christmas holidays, I had a dream about Teddy. He and I were in my parents' living room. We were all sitting there talking. Mom and Dad looked healthy and happy -- probably the best part of the dream. Then all of a sudden, they were gone and I was left alone. A feeling of uneasiness came upon me. I was, in fact, quite frightened. Remembering Teddy was somewhere close, I called out for him and he came to me. Somehow, I felt better after that. But the dream stopped and I awoke.
The next morning was Saturday, and not having much else to do, I did some online research. I found him! I knew he'd been married, but was not certain of his current marital status. Further research revealed an obituary of his Dad's that did not mention a wife for Teddy as one of the survivors. It did list his brother and HIS wife as survivors. Aren't I quite clever?!? More research, a phone number, a possible address...and I called him that evening after much debate on the propriety of the act. Since that time I've been assured that the rules have changed and that women may call men. After all, this is the second decade of the 21st century. I left dating and dating protocol in the late 1970s, so who would have known?
In a fast-forward moment, we talked on that Saturday night and on subsequent occasions for hours at a time. It was fun catching up on a lifetime that happened over 36 years ago. I discovered he'd been divorced after a marriage of 13 years that can only be described as quite unhappy. There were no children from that marriage -- a definite plus in the marital consideration process.
We agreed that he'd come for New Year's Eve and we'd go to dinner. Indeed, he came, we went out, we fell in love (again!) that week, and by the end of the time we'd spent together, he asked me to marry him. Since I've completed all the college I want or need, and after much thought and prayer, I said "yes".
Teddy lives in Clarendon, an hour southeast of Amarillo. He has a brother there, but other than that, there is no other family. Since he is somewhat retired and I need to continue working, he will move here and live in Fort Worth with me. He has attended my church and likes it. He plans on attending, and perhaps joining. Domino, my little Chihuahua, adores him. I have to remind Domino that he is MY dog, but he has taken a great liking to Teddy. I've learned that dogs are a good judge of character. For professional reasons, and the fact that I've been Belinda Scholl for almost 30 years, I will retain my married name. It's a hassle to do all the necessary paperwork that involves changing one's name. We want simple at this time in our lives and keeping my name fits with that philosophy.
The wedding itself will also be simple. There will be no formal invitations, so just come. It will be held at Christ United Methodist Church at 3301 Sycamore School Road, Fort worth, 76123 in southwest Fort Worth on June 26. The phone number is 817.346.2400. The exact time has yet to be decided, but I will keep you posted. This is where I'm a member and have been serving as pianist since September of 2007. After the brief ceremony, we'll have a simple reception to greet our guests, and then be off on our new life together. We hope you will be able to come!
In conclusion, I will say that I never expected this to happen. I really wasn't "looking" or hoping for anything in particular when I called Teddy. It was more or less of a whim. I almost didn't call him! I also never expected to have another husband -- especially one who would love me so unreservedly and whole-heartedly. I never dared to ask God for that since I'd already had such a marriage. To have found such favor with God that He has given me -- truly, given us -- another opportunity for marriage is more than I could have ever conceived.
We ask you to share in our joy and happiness and that you support us with your good thoughts & prayers. We also hope to see you June 26 in Fort Worth, but if that is not possible, we know you will be us in spirit and love.
More later...
Teddy & Belinda
Showing posts with label short stories. Show all posts
Showing posts with label short stories. Show all posts
Tuesday, January 12, 2010
Thursday, December 17, 2009
"A Christmas Interloper"
How many years had it been? Well over thirty by Emma’s own account. Many life events had occurred in that period of time ~ years of college, graduate and post-graduate study; the eventual Ph.D; the beginning and establishment of a long and successful career; love found, love lost; love found again; marriage; and in recent years, the death of a beloved spouse. Yet, all along the way, much happiness and laughter, albeit sprinkled with times of adversity and sorrow. All in all, however, a very good life. One might even say a rich, full, and rewarding life.
But thirty years!?! What would he say? Better question, what would she say? Even with these and many other thoughts whirling around in her mind, she decided to do it. This time she listened with her heart, and not necessarily her head. This time.
After about an hour of research on the Internet, Emma found an address and a phone number that seemed likely. She mentally went over her short introductory speech that included several “what ifs”: What if he hung up on her? What if he cursed her? (After all, he had a right to do so.) Worst of all, what if he didn’t remember her? While these scenarios played out in her overactive imagination, what she really thought was, “Who cares? I’m going to call him.”
It was Saturday night around 7:30 p.m. As she dialed the unfamiliar long distance number, she was thinking, “He’ll probably be out. Or he may be at home with his wife. I wonder if he’s still married?” If so, the conversation would be very brief, as she assured herself, “I’m not going THERE!”
“Hello?” The voice was low and soft, as if the person had just woken up from sleep or a long nap.
“Hello. This is Emma. Emma Carson. (Silence.) You may remember me as Emma Long.”
It took a few seconds, but the recognition was there. And then …
They talked and talked – for well over an hour. It was a comfortable, easy talk. Just questions about life, work, the usual things. “Do you remember…?” “Whatever happened to …?” It was fun playing “catch up” for a while.
No, he was no longer married. (WHEW!) Divorced. Apparently the wife had been a “piece”. Emma shared a bit concerning the loss of her husband. They each talked of some health issues. Their very conversation seemed to breathe an air of mutual sympathy and caring.
After hanging up, she felt she’d done the right thing. Just checking up on an old friend. Well, maybe slightly more than an “old friend”, but that’s what it felt like: a visit with an old friend.
The next day was church. As Emma listened to the pastor, he talked about the service they’d have on Christmas Eve. He asked the congregants to consider inviting someone to church who might not otherwise have a place to worship. Emma immediately thought of him. But calling again? So soon?
“Wanna go to the school dance with me? Huh? Huh? Pretty please?!?”
NO!
Way too junior high school-ish.
YIKES! Double YIKES!! Triple YIKES!!!
Being a very resourceful woman, she did the next best thing: she wrote one of her highly articulate letters. A concisely conceived, yet warm and inviting letter explaining about the service and asking if he’d like to attend.
“I’m writing this to give you more time to think about
what I want to ask you. I thought about asking in
a phone conversation, but felt that might be awkward.
No expectations, no pressure. Just one nice, good,
friendly person asking another nice, good, friendly
person to a worship service.”
After mailing it, she thought about how all this might seem to him. After all, it had been over thirty years. Would he consider her to be an interloper into his life? While the phone conversation had gone well – each expressing enjoyment of it – inviting him for a visit was quite a different thing than picking up the phone for a chat.
At this point, all she could do was to wait for his response. Sooner hopefully than later, Emma would discover if she were a Christmas Interloper. With fingers crossed, she hoped that, if so, she would at least be a welcomed one. After all...this is the Season of Miracles.
But thirty years!?! What would he say? Better question, what would she say? Even with these and many other thoughts whirling around in her mind, she decided to do it. This time she listened with her heart, and not necessarily her head. This time.
After about an hour of research on the Internet, Emma found an address and a phone number that seemed likely. She mentally went over her short introductory speech that included several “what ifs”: What if he hung up on her? What if he cursed her? (After all, he had a right to do so.) Worst of all, what if he didn’t remember her? While these scenarios played out in her overactive imagination, what she really thought was, “Who cares? I’m going to call him.”
It was Saturday night around 7:30 p.m. As she dialed the unfamiliar long distance number, she was thinking, “He’ll probably be out. Or he may be at home with his wife. I wonder if he’s still married?” If so, the conversation would be very brief, as she assured herself, “I’m not going THERE!”
“Hello?” The voice was low and soft, as if the person had just woken up from sleep or a long nap.
“Hello. This is Emma. Emma Carson. (Silence.) You may remember me as Emma Long.”
It took a few seconds, but the recognition was there. And then …
They talked and talked – for well over an hour. It was a comfortable, easy talk. Just questions about life, work, the usual things. “Do you remember…?” “Whatever happened to …?” It was fun playing “catch up” for a while.
No, he was no longer married. (WHEW!) Divorced. Apparently the wife had been a “piece”. Emma shared a bit concerning the loss of her husband. They each talked of some health issues. Their very conversation seemed to breathe an air of mutual sympathy and caring.
After hanging up, she felt she’d done the right thing. Just checking up on an old friend. Well, maybe slightly more than an “old friend”, but that’s what it felt like: a visit with an old friend.
The next day was church. As Emma listened to the pastor, he talked about the service they’d have on Christmas Eve. He asked the congregants to consider inviting someone to church who might not otherwise have a place to worship. Emma immediately thought of him. But calling again? So soon?
“Wanna go to the school dance with me? Huh? Huh? Pretty please?!?”
NO!
Way too junior high school-ish.
YIKES! Double YIKES!! Triple YIKES!!!
Being a very resourceful woman, she did the next best thing: she wrote one of her highly articulate letters. A concisely conceived, yet warm and inviting letter explaining about the service and asking if he’d like to attend.
“I’m writing this to give you more time to think about
what I want to ask you. I thought about asking in
a phone conversation, but felt that might be awkward.
No expectations, no pressure. Just one nice, good,
friendly person asking another nice, good, friendly
person to a worship service.”
After mailing it, she thought about how all this might seem to him. After all, it had been over thirty years. Would he consider her to be an interloper into his life? While the phone conversation had gone well – each expressing enjoyment of it – inviting him for a visit was quite a different thing than picking up the phone for a chat.
At this point, all she could do was to wait for his response. Sooner hopefully than later, Emma would discover if she were a Christmas Interloper. With fingers crossed, she hoped that, if so, she would at least be a welcomed one. After all...this is the Season of Miracles.
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