Some promises take a lifetime to keep, and my high school sweetheart was one of them. By the time I thought our story had finally found its happy ending, everything began to unravel.
The mornings in my town moved slowly, and that suited me fine after Howard, my husband, passed away.
I kept my hands busy with church bake sales and Wednesday food pantry shifts, and I let the quiet of the house be company enough.
That Saturday in April, I was setting out my lemon bars on the long folding table at First Methodist when a voice behind me said my name as if it still belonged to him.
“Eleanor.”
I kept my hands busy.
I turned, and there stood Garrett, 53 years older but with the same crooked smile he’d had after kissing me behind the bleachers in 1972. He’d promised, “Eleanor, someday I’ll buy you a diamond ring.”
***
“You still wear your hair the same,” Garrett whispered at the bake sale.
“And you still talk too smoothly,” I told him.
We laughed until we cried, right there next to the brownies and the iced tea pitcher. Pastor Wells pretended not to notice. My friend Marlene from the choir absolutely did notice, and I knew I’d be answering questions on Sunday!
Garrett asked if I’d let him buy me coffee, and I said maybe a slice of pie too, if he was feeling generous.
“I’ll buy you a diamond ring.”
***
Garrett stayed for the bake sale and later paid for both the coffee and the pie before walking me to my car, as if it were still 1972. That was before life pulled us apart.
After that, we met every Tuesday at the same diner.
He told me about his late wife, Patricia, gone for almost 10 years, and about his grown children, Margaret and Daniel, who lived nearby and called him every Sunday. I told him about Howard, and the long good years, and the longer quiet ones after.
That was before life pulled us apart.
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