This may be an odd little story and I am not certain whether I should be happy with it or embarrassed by it. Maybe it's a little of both. My mind wandered for a time as I began to contemplate what it is like to get up in years. You can play by the rules all your life, be an upstanding member of society, and then one day you realize that your best years are behind you. If ever you are going to throw caution to the wind and reach out to recapture a bit of your youth, it must be now or never. Those thoughts gave birth to the love story here, and to one scene in particular, with just a little bit of adolescent silliness along the way.
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Bill was, in fact, William J. Morris, a distinguished attorney who worked in corporate law for nearly 40 years. Every day he put on a suit and mentally prepared himself for a day of disciplined thought and action. His driver would pick him up, deliver him to his office where he would solve the problems of businessmen and the wealthy few who could afford his services, and in the evening his driver would take him back to his condo. Bill grew up in the country, but he was fortunate to have parents and teachers who took his education seriously. He was admitted to one of the best colleges, attended a prominent law school, and from the fall after he graduated high school he lived in a large American city. He was experienced in urban life. He enjoyed the finest restaurants, attended the best theaters, and was invited to the most important parties. It was a good life and for 4 decades he shared it with Janet, his wife, the love of his life.
There were two things you could say about Bill without reservation and everyone would agree: he loved his wife and he was a scrupulously honest man. He felt that if he could not look himself in the mirror in the morning and know that the man looking back was a man whose words and actions were truthful, then he could not hold his head up in public. He lived by his word and a code of conduct that no one could fault.
When Bill was fifty-eight, his wife died. It was nothing more than a drunk driver late one night. One moment she was driving home from their son's place and the next she was gone. Bill's life changed that night forever. He wept. He mourned. In time he began to look for change. Bill had no real regrets in his life. He took satisfaction in his career, raised two great kids, had three grandchildren, and knew that it was time for a change.
He also knew that life in the city was slowly, but steadily, taking its toll on his soul. It's not that he objected to living in close contact with other people. Bill liked people, generally. There was just this need in him to breathe clean air, to have a few minutes of silence in which to think, and the desire to plant a garden like his family had when he was a kid. So, when Bill decided to retire, he knew he would be leaving the city behind.
Bill found a country lane about an hour outside the city that was just what he was searching for. Someone had built a dozen houses about fifteen years ago, six down one side of the street and six down the other, with only neighbors on either side for company. Behind them all there were only open fields and woods. They were small country cottages with an old-fashioned front porch, a side porch that led into the kitchen, and a two-car garage at the top of a short driveway that ran past the side porch. There was adequate space between the houses so that no one felt crowded, but you could always call out to your neighbor if you wanted. They were ideal for small families and perfect for retirees. Bill settled in quickly.
On move-in day, the house was a hive of activity. Bill did his best to keep up with the movers, but they had boxes and furniture coming through both doors faster than he could track.
"Hello! Anyone here?"
Bill heard the voice and thought, "Today? Like I don't have enough to think about?"
He walked to the side door and found a woman, about his own age, greeting him with a smile. "I'm Harriet, but everyone calls me Harry. I'm your neighbor, neighbor." Okay, he was starting to warm to this intrusion.
Bill was smiling. "Hi! I'm Bill and please don't judge me too fast, but I think I'm losing my mind right now."
Harry laughed and Bill started thinking he might like the neighborhood.
"Are the boxes marked?"
"Ah, yes, but..."
"They seem to be double teaming you. Why don't I take the side door and you take the front door and between us we can send them in the right direction. Otherwise, you may find your good suit put away in the oven and your kitchen towels in the bathroom."
"Oh, if you'd do that for me, I will buy you the best dinner around... just as soon as I find where they put my clean clothes."
They both smiled and then with a quick "Thank you." Bill was off to direct traffic at the front door.
A lot of the boxes coming in the side door were, in fact, marked "kitchen" and "dining room", so Harry set out to unpack the boxes whenever there was a lull in the action. Her house was just a mirror image of Bill's, so she took a chance and figured she knew the best arrangement of drawers and cabinets. When Bill returned and found what she'd done, he took about a minute to look around and said, "Perfect! I wouldn't change a thing!"
The excitement was over as fast as it had started and they both soon found themselves exhausted from directing the labors of others. They sat together on the couch, examined the organized chaos around them, and Harry said, "Your wife will have this place livable in no time." It was a subtle exploration of possibilities.
"Oh, my wife died four years ago. Right now, she's looking down on me and she is laughing her butt off! She's saying, 'Okay, you made this mess and this time you're going to fix it.'"
Harry was laughing quietly. "What was your wife's name?"
"Janet. I've got pictures of her someplace in all this mess."
"Well, why don't you make peace with Janet, and then come over for some dinner. I have a stew in the crock pot. It isn't fancy, but it's filling and right now you look like a man who needs to eat."
Harry's simple, direct manner made Bill smile. "I'd like that if it's not too much trouble."
"No trouble at all, but there is a price for dinner."
Bill wasn't sure how to take that last remark.
"We don't have cable out here, so I'll be expecting to be entertained. That's one good story and two good jokes, minimum."
Bill smiled. "Deal! I didn't spend a lifetime in the law for nothing. If you don't mind, I'll see if I can find a change of clothes and take a quick shower first."
"I have never stopped a man from taking a shower in my life. Getting a man to take a shower is a whole other matter..."
Bill was chucking as Harry left. He started thinking that this woman could prove to be a very enjoyable neighbor and that maybe, just maybe, he had found the right place to settle down in these latter years of life. As he showered, he couldn't help but reflect at this whirlwind, this force of nature that barged into his home and began doing the work that needed to be done. He had never considered that she might help him unpack his kitchen, and yet she seemed to do it with genuine good will. He never felt she was snooping or trying to pry into his personal things. She was never an intrusion. There was just that question, that apparent presumption, of whether he had a wife, but he rather liked the idea that she was curious.
A man showers in a routine fashion, almost on autopilot, soaping the cloth and rubbing the skin, as his mind wanders in unpredictable directions. This evening Bill found himself thinking of Harry. It was with surprise that he suddenly realized his thoughts had taken an unexpected direction and he was sporting more manhood than usual. He looked down and thought, "I didn't intend for that to happen! Maybe this woman is more interesting than I first imagined!" He couldn't deny it. Harry was a woman of his own age. It was clear that she kept herself in good shape. She was sharp, funny, and independent. He liked those qualities in a woman. It was then that he realized, "I don't even know if she's married!"
Meanwhile, Harry was taking a quick shower of her own. Women are more disciplined than men, and more in touch with their emotions (no pun intended), so as her mind wandered to considerations of this man that she'd just met there were no surprises. She knew full well that at the age of sixty-one, this was the first man that interested her since her husband died five years ago. What she didn't know was why? What was it about him that she found so intriguing, so attractive? He was average enough in size and looks. He seemed cultured and educated, so that was a plus. He did have a nice smile. Maybe it was the way he accepted her help? Whatever was at the root of her attraction, she knew she wanted to learn more about this man, this new neighbor of hers.
Bill showed up at her side door with a handful of flowers he'd picked from his garden. It was early summer and about all that was in bloom were the daffodils that were planted by the previous owner, but with nothing else he could do he picked a big hand full and carried them across his driveway, down the few stone steps at the slope between the properties, across her driveway and onto Harry's side porch. Just before he could knock, she came to the door. "Welcome! You're right on time."
As Bill entered her home, he said, "I know these aren't much, but it's all I could pull together on short notice."
Harry was pleased. "Oh, they're lovely! Thank you." Harry set about getting a vase, filling it with water, and arranging the daffodils on the kitchen counter. "We'll put these on the table when we eat."
Bill felt good. He'd chosen well.
Dinner was an informal affair. They worked together on the last of the chores in seeming comfort with each other, gathered the food at the table, and spent the evening enjoying one another's company. They talked, joked, told stories, and got to know each other better. Somewhere in the mix of it all Harry let it be known that her husband had passed on five years before. It was said only in passing, not so much as a hint as it was for general information, but the fact was not lost on Bill. Both thought that the other was an unexpected discovery, a pleasure they did not anticipate but richly appreciated.
