The Truth of Tenderness
The dazzling colors of autumn faded into gray November. The last of the leafpeepers had gone home, the summer houses sat empty and the businesses that made their money from the tourist trade were closed up for the winter.
Alvin had pulled the last boat from the water, taken in and stored the platform floats and closed the wharf. The little diner had been cleaned out and shuttered for another season. There were two boats on stands in the yard, wrapped in blue plastic sheeting. Alvin would spend some of his time during the winter doing repair and maintenance work on them. After some nagging, Mary had been able to coax from him the information that between them, the two jobs would bring in over twenty thousand dollars. She was more convinced than ever that she needed to sit down with Alvin and Diana and learn about the family's finances.
In another month, Alvin would be busy transforming the wharf into a Christmas tree lot, as he had done every year since he had been a teenager. For now, though, he did not have much work to do, and he and Mary were able to spend more time together than ever before. She spent as many nights at his house as she did in her apartment, and they began to get a taste of what their life together would be like.
They took turns cooking for each other. Alvin's repertoire was limited, but those things he did know, comfort foods like spaghetti, meatloaf, shepherd's pie, he did well. Mary was more experimental. She tried out many new recipes, and most were successful. But Alvin willingly tried even the most dubious efforts. She was overjoyed whenever she successfully introduced him to something new.
They spent a lot of time curled together, on his couch or hers, watching movies or reading together. Mary liked fantasy novels and contemporary thrillers, while Alvin's tastes ran to classic literature, history and biography, but they would often share passages with each other. That would sometimes lead to long discussions about everything from ancient Greece to the possibility of life on Mars.
On Halloween, they strolled around town, hand in hand, and watched the children trick or treating. Neither said so, but each knew that the other was thinking about someday walking these same streets while their own children scampered from house to house.
And they made love, frequently and passionately. They grew to know each other's bodies intimately, each learning how to anticipate the other's desires and responses.
As the weather grew colder, Mary began to get excited about the prospect of snow.
"Do you think it will snow before my birthday?" she asked Alvin one morning over breakfast.
"Good chance. That's still a couple weeks away. Usually get at least a dusting by the middle of November."
"I'd love it if it snowed on my birthday."
Alvin shrugged. "I've seen a foot or more fall in October, and I've seen years when we got nothing until after the new year. Hard tellin', not knowin'."
"Speaking of my birthday, I'm guessing you've got some surprise cooked up."
"Of course I do."
"Any clues?"
"Pack a bag," he said, shoving the last of a corn muffin in his mouth. Despite Mary's cajoling, that was all he would say.
Just two days later, the forecast called for snow showers. Mary woke up in the morning and immediately went to the window, only to be disappointed. Rather than snow, cold drizzly rain was falling on Londonderry. She was frustrated when she learned on the newscast that just a few mile inland, the precipitation had turned to snow. She thought that she might drive out of town later in the day to take a look, but by the time she finished work, the temperature had climbed, and whatever had accumulated was gone.
Her birthday was on a Saturday, and Alvin had advised her to get a good night's sleep and be ready to get picked up by nine. He was still tight lipped about his plans, so she packed both casual and dressier clothes for whatever trip he had in mind. She looked out her front window at exactly nine o'clock. The street was shrouded in fog, but she saw Alvin's car emerge from the gloom and pull up in front of her building.
By the time she got down the stairs, he was standing on the sidewalk. As she came out of the door, he took her suitcase, and handed her a single red rose.
"Happy birthday, sweetheart," he said, kissing her.
"Oh, thank you, love." Alvin reached into his coat pocket and handed her an envelope. She opened it and took out the card. On the front was a watercolor painting of a sailboat in a forested cove.
"That looks like the place we went on our first date," Mary said.
"It is," Alvin shrugged.
"How did you ever find that?"
"There's a lady here in town makes cards to order."
Mary held the card close to her face and looked at it intently. "This was hand painted? You got me a made to order, hand painted card?"
"Well, yeah. It's your birthday."
She shook her head in disbelief as she opened the card. There was a check inside. Before she looked at it, she read the message he had written in his big, choppy handwriting.
Mary,
There are no gifts to match the gift you have been to me. For your birthday I offer you my heart. I trust the truth of your tenderness, and know it will be treated with care. I am honored to spend your birthday with you, and many more birthdays to come.
Love, Alvin
"That's lovely, Alvin, thank you." She kissed his cheek. Then she looked at the check. She thought it seemed odd that, along with such sweet sentiments, he'd give her a check for her birthday. It was made out to L.L.Bean. The amount line was blank.
"We are going down to Freeport, to the main store, and get you fitted out for winter," Alvin said, "I didn't wait all this time for you, just to have you freeze your first winter."
"That's a wonderful gift, Alvin." She hugged and kissed him. "And the rose, and the card. So very thoughtful."
Alvin put the suitcase in the back of the car, while Mary climbed in the passenger seat.
'All right, next stop, Freeport," Alvin said.
"How about next stop, Dunkin' Donuts? I could use a coffee."
"That's a small request on your birthday," Alvin replied.
A few minutes later, they were on the highway, each with a coffee and a doughnut. They were only a few miles out of Londonderry when the fog dissipated and they saw a clear and brilliant blue sky.
"I guess I won't get snow for my birthday," Mary said.
"You never know," Alvin shrugged. "This time of year a sky that clear often means the temperature is about to drop. Could be the cold air brings something with it later on."
They listened to an oldies station from Waterville and watched the scenery go by. Alvin was impressed with how many of the older songs Mary knew.
"My generation grew up listening to your generation's music," she explained.
"Hold the phone, Miss Mary. Chuck Berry is not my generation's music."
"It doesn't matter any more, anyway," she shrugged. "If I hear a song and like it, it doesn't make any difference if it came out last week or fifty years ago."
They got on the turnpike at Augusta, and the Waterville station faded. Mary turned the radio off. She wanted to talk about their upcoming trip to California.
"Honey, I am there for you," Alvin said, "Whatever you want to do, wherever you want to go. I'm the lost little lamb out there, shepherd me around."
"I'm thinking we should fly in on the twenty third, spend Christmas Eve and Christmas Day with the family, then do the touristy thing for a couple of days and come home."
"That's fine with me. Laura and Tim can cover the last couple of days on the tree lot. Are you sure you think that's enough time to appease your mother."
"I think it's enough for me to not strangle her if we stay longer."
"Alright, then I won't strangle her either."
"I appreciate that. But what I want to know is what you'd like to see when we are there. Disneyland? Universal Studios?"
Alvin shook his head. "I'm not much interested in that sort of thing."
"Well, what then?"
He thought for a minute. "I would like to see the Pacific."
