7 comments/ 22144 views/ 7 favorites Curse You Uncle Jessie Ch. 01 By: Rabbitrunner91 He'd always been my favorite uncle; however right now I was glad he wasn't here or I'd strangle his scrawny neck. (Damn it Uncle Jessie, how could you?) George Bennett, Esq. droned on, reading the will. It was no secret I was Uncle Jessie's favorite nephew, most knew I'd be mentioned and receive a portion of the estate. The family was listening and this made it worse, they knew; word would spread. No one was smiling, at least outwardly, but I suspected inside they were working to suppress their amusement. (Curse you, Uncle Jessie. I wish you weren't dead.) This state of affairs took me back to last spring when Uncle Jessie and I'd been fishing... "Well, my boy how's school?" "Okay, finals are next month and I gotta do some serious studying." "You're not having problems, are you?" "No, I want to maintain a cushion because my scholarship requires a minimum GPA." Uncle Jessie chuckled. "You don't do things with half measures, never have." He skillfully snapped the line and dropped the lure under the branch overhanging the opposite bank. That's where he figured the best fish hung out and he and I were stalking 'Old Soldier'. My stringer held four Rainbows, each 15 inches. But we wanted the one which had eluded us all last summer. We'd seen him a couple times down by the rapids, 23 inches long, and named him the 'Old Soldier' because of the battle scars in his tail. I was working the old tree stump, further down river. The water was deeper and my guess was he hung out here, making forays up and downstream. I expertly toyed with the line as my fly danced along, skimming the surface. Each spring the two of us would compete and the one with the most catches by July 4th would treat the other to a full course meal at a restaurant of their choice. Last year he had to pay off, but it was the first time. Uncle Jessie was 'tops' with a fly rod and I'd beat him on a fluke. A turtle had eaten his stringer and five beauties had gotten away. It was the first and only time I ever heard him cuss. "I'm putting you in my will." "You know I don't want anything. I'm content. I'd rather you give your money to the Women's Pregnancy Center. Besides you've a lot of years left to lay back and fish." "You never give up campaigning for them. Okay, I promise to help them out too, when the time comes. You have a soft heart for that place, you'd give them the shirt off your back." He flicked his line and then continued. "I plan on visiting lawyer Bennett next week and have my will changed." "And?" I ask. "You'll get the house and all the land, including this stream." We'd been over this before, so I knew the details. The rest of the family understood our close relationship, and agreed to this arrangement. He was 61 and healthy as an old bull, so it would be years before the will would be implemented. My attention focused on the water because I saw movement near the lure. "Matt, has some girl got her hooks in you yet?" My arm flinched and I jerked the line. The movement in the water slipped away. "You know how to ruin a good thing, don't you Uncle Jessie? Besides, who's campaigning now?" "I want you to get married. It's a good institution, your Aunt Mary and I had a good life together. Before a man's married, he's not complete." "And after he's married, he's finished. I've heard you say that before." "Or, marriage isn't a 'word'; it's a 'sentence.' But with Mary, it was a sentence of love. My life wasn't fulfilled till I met her. She was the cream at the top, the best thing in my life. That's why I want you to find the right girl and settle down." "It ain't gonna happen and you know it. I'm not ready to marry and I'm not interested in any girl. Maybe a couple years after I graduate next spring. But right now, no." "Want to make a bet?" Whenever this subject was brought up, I might as well forget about fishing, so I reeled in my line and waded to the bank. "You don't give up do you? It's not going to happen, and you know it." "Well, do you?" "No. I don't" "You chicken or something? Never knew you to back away from a good wager with your Uncle." I eyed him as I inspected the trout on my stringer. "Not about this, no I won't do it." "Suit yourself." That was the last time we went fishing together. I went back to the University and finished out the year, Uncle Jessie entered the hospital. His body was riddled with cancer. He knew it, but never told anyone. The chemo treatments eroded what strength he had left and he became a stick on a slender frame. He lost his hair, wore a ball cap and by the end of July he was in a wheelchair, a nurse pushing him everywhere. I visited often. We planned strategies for catching 'Old Soldier', but none of them were ever implemented. He passed away late in October, the funeral was the same week and we placed him beside Aunt Mary. Two days later, I wished he were alive so I could strangle him. Uncle Jessie's line had hooked me. The lure had done its work, now he was reeling me in, and doing it from his grave. I could almost hear his chuckle. My reverie was interrupted by the lawyer. "Matt, do you understand the provisions of this will?" Bennett's voice matched the rhythmic 'tick' of the grandfather clock standing in the corner. I was looking for a way out of this trap and it had been laid well. I shook my head to clear it and Bennett figured I'd said 'no'. "He left you the house, all the surrounding property and a trust fund to maintain the place. In addition you'll receive 5% of the voting stock from his company and $850,000 cash. All totaled, this equals about $3.2 Million." This I understood. Uncle Jessie had shared it with me earlier that summer. It's the other part I wished weren't included. He discussed some other provisions before returning to my downfall. "$26 Million has been set aside, and to be kept secure. The funds will be distributed after Matt has graduated from University, or next June, which ever comes first; and the final determination of their dispersal depends upon Matt's marital status. Should he have a wife at that time, the funds will be given to the Women's Pregnancy Center. Otherwise the Women's Abortion Clinic will be their recipient." (Curse you Uncle Jessie. I wish you weren't dead.) ---- The first sign of trouble came two weeks later. The phone rang. "Matthew Jensen?" "Yes. To whom am I speaking?" "Jean Clark. I'm a reporter from the Daily Chronicle. We're doing a series of articles on local personalities and want to include your biography. Could we meet over lunch tomorrow?" "Sure." I was flattered. ---- "I'll have the catfish and a side salad." The waitress took our order while we talked. "You grew up around here?" "Yes. I'm an only child..." I talked for an hour, with her asking an occasional question. "What about hobbies?" "The only hobby I had was Uncle Jessie teaching me how to fly fish." "Your Uncle?" "Yes, Jessie Hancock." "THE Jessie Hancock? He was your Uncle?" "Um hum. He and mom are brother and sister. I'd spend weekends at his house and he'd teach me how to cast a fly into a gallon can from 75 feet. I could never match his ability, though." I should have been aware something was up, but the recent funeral dulled my radar. It was good to relive fond memories of my time with Uncle Jessie and Aunt Mary. I talked too much. In the morning I was packing to return to University when the phone rang. "Matt Jensen?" a female voice spoke. "Yes. To whom and I speaking?" "I'm Angie Jordon. You remember me. We used to go to school together." "Okay. In our senior class, you sat across from me in English Lit." "Yeah, that's me. Anyway, I'm wondering if you'd like to go out together?" Warning bells were going off in my head. "I'm headed back to University, so I don't think it will be possible." "Could I take you out to lunch, then? I'd really like to get to know you again." "Thanks anyway, Angie. I appreciate you asking. But I have to focus on my school. Maybe some other time? Bye." I hung up and returned to my packing. (That was a weird conversation.) The phone rang again. "Hello, is this Matt Jensen?" "Yes. Who may I ask is calling?" I'm Carol Whitecotton. You don't know me, but I was wondering if you'd like to have a date with me?" "Ma'am. I don't think so. Like you said, I don't know you, so my answer is 'No'." The phone rang immediately after I'd replaced the handset. "Hello, Matt?" "Yes." "You don't know me, but I want..." I slammed the receiver down on her and the phone rang again. This time I didn't answer. (What in the world is going on?) The phone continued to ring and I ignored it. Best let the answering machine screen my calls. (What's causing these women to call me?) The message kicked in, giving my number and saying I couldn't come to the phone right. Please leave a message. (You know the one.) "Matt, I'm Lorraine Slaton. I'd really like to get to know you. Give me a call back at 555-1363? Could we go out for dinner together?" Next one. "Matt Jensen? I'm Adrienne Paulsen, Manager of Baker Photography. We're looking for a new male model and your name was presented to us as a potential applicant. Could we set up a luncheon and talk terms? I'm certain we could come to a mutual agreement. Give me a call at 555-3276. I'll be waiting." Next. "Matt Jensen?" in a husky sexy voice. "This is Kitty Jones. Want to come over and have some fun? I'm sure we could find each other's company quite invigorating. My schedule is free today. Call me back and we'll ..." I turned the answering machine's volume down. (The whole world's going crazy. What's gotten into them?) That's when a knock sounded on my door. Habit kicked in and I opened the door. I should have known better. "Matt Jensen. It's good to see you again. I'm Cheryl Stephens, we took history together in school. You remember? Mrs. Ramsey's class? I sat in front of you." As she spoke, she stepped inside, closing the door and stood in the entryway, a newspaper in her hand. "Cheryl, what is it you want?" She handed me the newspaper and walked into the main room. "This is a really nice place. I could like it here." The front page answered the big question. My photo was centered on page one and the headlines read, "LOCAL BOY INHERITS MILLIONS. MUST WED BEFORE GRADUATION." My bio followed. (Curse you Uncle Jessie. I wish you weren't dead.) ---- University wasn't safe either, because my notoriety followed, albeit a few days later. Girls I never knew would ask me for a date. Ones in class would try to sit next to me, pass me notes, others would call me at all hours of the day, AND night. I had no peace; I was harassed by girls. Women would proposition me for sex, ask for dates, offer me a job, and ask to marry me. Cursing Uncle Jessie was a regular occurrence. It almost became natural. My situation quickly caught the attention of the University administration and I was summoned to the Dean's office. "Matt, welcome. Please take a seat." (I don't like his tone. This isn't going to be good.) "We've received reports; frankly, what we're hearing is troubling." "What is that, sir?" "Professors have told us how classes are being disrupted because women are not paying attention, and the PBX can't handle the calls to your phone, it appears to be stuck at your number." "Sir, I'm sorry. This isn't my fault. I received an inheritance and ..." "So the women want your attention? Hoping you'll share?" "It's more than that. The 'will' states a large sum is to be distributed, conditional upon my marital status." I whispered. "Well, pick one, Lad. But we can't have this. It's very disruptive. You'll have to get this straightened out soon, or the administration will be forced to step in. Do I make myself clear?" He did, and I left. Unfortunately, things got worse. The University Magazine got wind of the story and placed their piece on Page 2. I quit answering my phone and took to wearing disguises. The next week, one of the Frat houses, as a joke, bought a full page Ad. It was a Marriage application, inviting single women to apply. One lucky girl would be selected as my bride. This wasn't a laughing matter, but everyone else was. My email account was filled with love notes, propositions, requests for marriage, late night trysts, sexual encounters, and God knows what else. I almost missed the one from the Dean's office requesting, no that's wrong, demanding a meeting the following morning. At 9 am I walked in, said 'Hello' and he said 'Good Bye.' By afternoon, I'd packed, ready do leave and a Postal truck pulled up. "Are you Matt Jensen?" he asked. "Unfortunately." "Are you leaving University?" "Afraid so. The Dean's not too pleased with the attention I'm getting." "I've a box. Where do you want it?" It was 18" x 12" x 12", the same size as a case of copy paper. He tossed it into my trunk before driving away. The strings were quickly cut and the box opened. I read the note. "Here are 2000 Marriage applications. Have FUN." (Curse you Uncle Jessie. I wish you weren't dead.) Curse You Uncle Jessie Ch. 02 "Pastor, what am I to do? Everywhere I go, women are throwing themselves at me. I've turned off my phone and the mailman is threatening to sue. And I don't dare show up at my apartment, it's been staked out." "Matt, let's look at your options. According to the will, the money is to be distributed to either the Pregnancy Center OR to the Abortion Clinic. Correct?" "Yes, it's to be decided by my marital status as of June. Uncle Jessie knew I didn't want the Clinic to get the funds." "Sounds like you've decided to walk the aisle." (Or walk the plank.) "I was hoping to wait a couple years before saying 'I do'." "What do you want in a wife? Don't default and allow the money go to the wrong place." "Oh boy." (Sounds like a death sentence with six months to go.) "Why not start with that box of applications. Ask the Women's Center to help sort them, narrow the quantity and perhaps you can find someone." (Whoopee.) Uncle Jessie had already made the choice. (Curse you Uncle Jessie. I wish you weren't dead.) ---- Mrs. Jordon at the Center was willing to help. She'd assigned two part time staffers, Lynn and Sherrie, to assist. I'd carted the box into the conference room and the Post Office delivered my other mail, dumping it on the table. "What are we looking for?" Sherrie asked. (A wife or a miracle) I examined one of the forms. I must admit, the questions the Fraternity used were quite detailed. "Select from between 18 and 25 years, doesn't smoke or drink, never married, ..." "What about her 'race' or 'children' or ..." (CHILDREN?) "Definitely no kids." The three of us worked quietly, with an occasional 'Look at this.' Or 'What about that person?' By the end of the second day, we'd gone through all of them, holding back, maybe 200. The rest were burned. (Burn, burn, burn them all.) It felt strange. I was sifting through applications with mechanical detachment. Marriage is a relationship and this was being handled emotionlessly. (I might as well yell in the streets "I NEED A WIFE?") Day three was used to refine the 200, down to 25. "Matt?" Sherrie spoke, "I'd suggest we contact these ladies to see if they're still interested. Perhaps they filled it out as a joke, or have had second thoughts. You could interview, or date the ones you like." What she said made sense, I wasn't comfortable with it but gave the go-ahead. I wanted to disappear for a couple days. (Literally, from the face of the earth.) On Monday I learned eighteen were withdrawing because they'd done it on a joke or dare. (Great, now I'm not wanted.) Sherrie had taken the unusual step of having the remainder write an essay. (What was the question? Why I want to be a Mail Order Bride?) As I read the last essay, Sherrie asked, "Did you eliminate any?" "These three. What they wrote is stupid." (Just like me.) "How many do we have?" "Five, I think." Lynn said, counting them out. (Maybe I should draw straws. It'd be quicker.) "Set up an evening; dinner and conversation. Nothing more." (Curse you Uncle Jessie. I wish you weren't dead.) ---- After the first evening, I,d eliminated the first. Oh, she was nice enough, but her temperament was high strung. The second lady was a possible ... (for another date). The third dominated the evening, I wouldn't see her again. The next lady was so shy. That's okay, but I wouldn't rule her out, merely place her lower on the list. Tonight I'd meet the fifth woman. The agreed time was 7pm and my watch read 7:15. (She's late, not a good sign). I'd turned and was watching the other patrons; Lynn appeared at my side. "Did she cancel out?" I asked. (I hope, I hope.) "No, she didn't." "Where is she? She's late." "Matt, I'm number five." Nervously she dropped her purse and stooped to retrieve it. (She'd stacked the deck. She'd inserted her own application into the pile). I wasn't angry, but I wasn't very happy, either. "Do you want me to leave?" (She looked like she was ready to run). "No, we're here. Let's have dinner." I said coldly. She took my arm and I escorted her to the table. A waiter appeared and I ordered drinks and horderves. "Want to tell me what you're doing?" I questioned. "Are you angry? I almost backed out. That's why I was late." Apprehensively she played with a bracelet and wouldn't hold eye contact. "I don't know what I am. But I'd like to hear your story." I let disgust taint my voice. "When Mrs. Jordon assigned Sherri and me to work with you, we knew the Center desperately needed the funds. So Sherrie and I drew straws, I won. When you asked us to arrange an evening out, I slipped my file onto the bottom." "So you're only interested in the money?" "That's not fair." "Stacking the deck on me is playing fair?" "Touché. Point made." Her finger was toying with her hair, making tiny ringlets. "My intent, Lynn, was to meet someone for a date. You used your work assignment as an advantage and I became the pawn. We're at cross-purposes and I don't like it." "Do you want me to leave?" Her lip quivered and she refused to look at me. (I almost said 'Yes'." "You've connived a 'Dinner with conversation'. You'll get that wish." The waiter arrived with our drinks and the first course. We ordered the main meal. "I've a condition with tonight. You can't tell anyone. That includes Sherri. Agreed?" She nodded. "I agree." "Tell me about yourself. I want to know what kind of person will sneak a date with me." "Are you holding that against me?" "I don't know yet. We'll have to find out. You have my ear for the evening." I was still ticked and it may have tinged my voice, for she became withdrawn. Quietly she began. "I'm a local gal. Grew up here and graduated from high school. I took two years of educational courses at the Community College. I had planned to attend State University but when Mrs. Jordon visited our church and talked about the need for workers at the Center, I joined her team and have been here ever since." (You're skimpy on details.) "Is that all there is to Lynn Richards?" She talked about her family; her dad was a salesman, and her mom a teacher. She was the second oldest and being the only girl, knew how to give and take from her three brothers. She'd taken band and chorus in school, bypassing sports. A few guys had asked her out, but nothing serious. At the Community College, she'd dated a guy regularly until she caught him with someone else. He'd tried to patch things up but she'd have nothing to do with him. Her grades were good with all 'B's. She really liked working with the Women's Pregnancy Center. It always gave her a thrill when a woman chose life, rather than an abortion. That had happened 120 times this year, and she'd been instrumental with twenty-three. Our meal arrived and the two of us continued our talk. She was warm but flustered, friendly but shy, smart but reserved. Mostly she was committed to helping unwed mothers carry their babies to full term. It was this point which clicked with me. The histories of these women were shared and how, when they'd been bent on terminating the pregnancy, she'd helped them understand the importance of life. Whether they gave the child up for adoption or chose to raise it themselves, it was a victory; a victory which shone through into Lynn's eyes. When I'd worked with her at the Center, she'd been calm, relaxed and congenial. Tonight, there was an edge of uncertainty in her demeanor, probably because of the trick she'd pulled. ---- With the evening over, I walked her to the car. "Thanks. Sorry about misleading you. I didn't mean to hurt you." She said apologetically. Her hair on one side was in a series of curls where she'd been twirling it. The other side hung straight. "Could I have your phone number and address?" She appeared flustered, "Oh, of course." She shuffled in her purse and quickly scribbled on an old envelope. "Are you okay?" I asked. "I'm fine... No.., no I'm not. I'm nervous." I chuckled. "Okay." "See you tomorrow," and I walked away. Glancing over my shoulder I nearly broke out laughing. She'd dropped her pencil, and then her foot slipped as she bent to pick it up. The keys slipped from her hand and she couldn't insert the key into the lock. (It was comical.) ---- Mrs. Jordon greeted me in the morning and we talked. I surmised she didn't know about the scheme the girls had hatched. "Would you stop by? I think you'll find this interesting." (Very interesting.) "Give me a few minutes. I'll be there shortly." While in the conference room I heard voices from the hallway... "No, Sherrie, I can't tell you." "You said you would, Lynn." "I know, but I just can't." "Well, was he upset? Did he call it off?" "He made me promise, so I can't say anything." (She's keeping her word.) "Ooohhh, so you did meet with him. Is there a chance for the money?" "Drop it, will you. It's not about the money. This is not a joking matter and we shouldn't have been meddling. He wasn't happy about it last night. So forget it, I can't say anything more." (Smart girl.) I stuck my head into the corridor. "Good morning ladies. Shall we get started?" Around the table, I held the folders, and Lynn's was at the bottom. "Sherrie, I've eliminated these three, let them know." She flipped the top cover on each. She knew Lynn's was in my hand, so did Lynn. "Lynn, I would like you ..." Mrs. Jordon poked her head in the door. "What's happening?" "I think you'll find these interesting. They're the last two." Both girls got the most awful look on their faces. The room was quiet as she opened the last file. Her look shifted to Lynn, a smile touched her face. "I hope you girls know what you're doing." She tossed Lynn her folder, the other to me, and then left. "Holy sh..." Sherrie began. Lynn groaned. Except for muffled voices from elsewhere in the building, the room was quiet. "Ladies, you started this. So whose idea?" Lynn pointed a finger and Sherrie sheepishly lifted her hand. "What now?" Sherrie asked. "You got the ball rolling, where do you want it to go?" It was Sherrie's turn and she was in the hot seat. "I Don't Know!" she wailed. Her pause became uncomfortable, so she continued. "We knew about your Uncle's money and thought we'd help." "What about me? What do I want, Sherrie? Did that ever enter your thinking?" "I guess not." "Now your plan's in the open, what's next?" "Find some solution so the Center can still receive the money. That's what I want." (She's sealed her coffin.) I tossed her the file. "Here, tell them I'm NOT interested. Sherrie, your help is no longer required." I stood and walked out, I was livid. ---- At 6:00 I placed the call, the answering machine kicked in. I hung up and called again. The same result. On the 6th call, the handset was lifted. "I want to talk. Do you?" I asked. "Yes." "I'll see you in an hour." ---- I drove up, she was waiting and got in the car. Looking at me, she said nothing. I drove to the address and we went inside. "You're still angry, aren't you?" she asked. "No." I say facetiously. "I'm ready to spit nails." "It's ruined. I suppose it's over." "What do you think? What would you do in my shoes?" "Probably the same thing." "You don't know what it's like to become a millionaire overnight. Suddenly I've all this money and every girl in the world wants to get their hands on it. I wasn't planning on finding a wife. Uncle Jessie put it in his 'will'. Damn him, he knew my heart's with the Center. He's forcing me." She didn't say anything, but her eyes told me she was hurting. "The newspapers and the University found out, broadcasting it to the world. Everywhere I go I'm a marked man. I loved my Uncle Jessie, but gee whiz." I broke down, my face in my hands. She watched. (CURSE YOU UNCLE JESSIE, I WISH YOU WEREN'T DEAD.) Curse You Uncle Jessie Ch. 03 This is the final and concluding chapter to Curse You Uncle Jessie. My time has become busy of late, and I am not able to do much writing. From time to time I will write a new story, but for now, RabbitRunner91 is signing off. ************************************************ At 6:00 I placed the call, the answering machine kicked in. I hung up and called again. The same result. On the 6th time, the handset was lifted. "I want to talk. Do you?" I asked. "Yes." "I'll see you in an hour." ---- I drove up; she was waiting and got in the car. Looking at me, she said nothing. I drove to the address and we went inside. "You're still angry, aren't you?" she asked. "No." I say facetiously. "I'm ready to spit nails." "It's ruined. I suppose it's over." "What do you think? What would you do in my shoes?" "Probably the same thing." "You don't know what it's like to become a millionaire overnight. Suddenly I've all this money and every girl in the world wants to get their hands on it. I wasn't planning on finding a wife. Uncle Jessie put it in his 'will'. Damn him, he knew my heart's with the Center. He's forcing me." She didn't say anything, but her eyes told me she was hurting. "The newspapers and the University found out, broadcasting it to the world. Everywhere I go I'm a marked man. I loved my Uncle Jessie, but gee whiz." I broke down, my face in my hands. She watched. (CURSE YOU UNCLE JESSIE, I WISH YOU WEREN'T DEAD.) She waited until I'd stopped and dried my eyes. "What are your plans?" she asked. "I don't know. It was a fool stunt to think of a finding a wife from that pile of applications." My hands clenched and unclenched. "Would you take me home. You must hate me." "Lynn, if you insist, but not for that reason." "I don't understand." "It's not what you did. It's what they want." "What they want?" "Yeah, it's the money. Am I someone to be used?" "What about me?" she asked. "That's not your emphasis. Your heart is with the women. If I thought otherwise ..." "Thanks for the vote of confidence." She smiled. Silence drifted over us for several minutes. "Why did you want to become a 'Mail Order Bride'?" "Never thought of it like that." "What was it, then? Do you have a better name for it?" "I don't know." She grinned. "You wanted me to select you from the list?" "I guess." "Was your plan only to help the Center get the money, or was there another purpose to your application?" "We were hopping to help you find someone, so that the money from the will ..." "How would your own application help with that?" "Sherrie figured that one of us ... I don't know. It was a fool stunt. I'm sorry. I didn't mean to hurt you." "I understand. Apology accepted." "Matt," she changed the subject. "You're not going to University. Come help at the Center. Mrs. Jordon could use you as a counselor." I frowned. "Is there a condition on your request? Is there an attachment to my marital status and a desire to get the money?" A question flashed across her face. "No, NO. It never crossed my mind. Please Matt, it has nothing to do with your situation. You have time on your hands, you love the center, and your help would be sorely appreciated." "I'll think about it." She placed her hands on my arm. "Believe me. I meant nothing by the request. Oh God, please don't twist what I said." "Okay. Apology accepted." The remainder of the evening was filled with small talk. I took her home and appeared at the Center the next morning, knocking on Mrs. Jordon's door. "Come in." "Good morning. Am I welcome here?" "Have a seat," she smiled. "Sorry about yesterday. Guess I lost it. You know, pressure and all." She didn't say anything for a moment. "What can I help you with?" "I hear you need men for counseling of other guys. My time's free and I'd like to volunteer." "When could you start?" "Right now, if you want." "Two things have to happen first. You have to be trained and at this moment we don't have a trainer." At this point she stopped; her eyes boring into mine. The pause became awkward, "What's the second thing?" "My trainer quit yesterday. Until we get another one, we can't move forward." "You said there were two things." "Sherrie was our trainer. She quit after you stormed out. She was in tears, wrote out her resignation handing it to me, along with her keys, and left. I'm asking you to talk her into returning." I closed my eyes and sighed. "I've caused you nothing but trouble, haven't I?" She laughed. "You could say that. Will you help Sherrie to return?" I nodded and she wrote out Sherrie's address. I drove to her apartment and knocked. Her door opened and she glared before speaking. "You've got a lot of nerve, don't you?" "Can I come in and talk?" She turned and strode into the room, the door open. I stepped inside, closing it. "Take a seat and make it quick." I took a chair and found her watching me, waiting. "Sorry Sherrie, for my actions yesterday. I shouldn't have acted that way." She didn't say anything. "I've come here to ask you to return to the center. Mrs. Jordon said you'd quit. I want to ask you to reconsider. I need you to return." "You? Why you?" "Training. I can't start working until I've been trained." She didn't reply, I continued. "She wants you to come back. And if I have to, I'll get down on my knees and beg." She laughed and I was glad to see her smile. The awkwardness between us smoothed out and we chatted. The air cleared between us. I shared my vision, my desire to help the Center. "So, tell me. What's going on? Why the hubbub?" "Uncle Jessie, before he died, was trying to get me married. I not ready. Well, he's always had a mischievous streak and he put the condition in his will about the money for the Center. With my desire to help, my Uncle decided to use this as a way to force me into the ranks of the matrimonial blessed." "What do you plan do to?" "I don't know. It's something I'll have to think about." I left her apartment after getting a promise for her to return to work. I drove to the Center and informed Mrs. Jordon of the outcome and said I'd also show up. The next morning my training began. It was a small class of only 'one' and Sherrie was the instructor. For three weeks we met and went through the curriculum. She was an excellent teacher. She was animate in the presentation, her explanations were clear and concise, and the exercises to the point. She presented the material in a humorous fashion and we routinely were in fits of laughter. Sherrie was a nice lady and I came to appreciate her character and abilities. The training was completed and I took an active role in the operations of the Center. Sherrie and I were often together in consultation concerning those who came for assistance. Many times we had a 'working' lunch. On occasion Lynn would join us. The two women had different personalities but complemented each other in their work. Sherrie was extroverted and outgoing. Lynn was quiet and reserve. Both were dedicated to the Center and in helping the women. It was nearing Christmas and I figured to give a gift to each staff member. In consultation with Mrs. Jordon, I explained my idea. "Is it okay to give a Christmas gift to the staff? A turquoise ring to the ladies and a watch for the men? It would be as an appreciation for the hard work they've put in." "That's generous Matt. I think everyone would like that." I received the order from the jewelers the day before the Christmas. Mrs. Jordon would hand out the gifts, except to Sherrie and Lynn. They'd worked especially hard and I wanted to hand theirs personally. Lynn wasn't available so I looked for Sherrie. She was at her desk and I approached. "Hey, got a minute?" "Sure. For you anytime." "Got a Christmas gift for you. That is if you are interested." She grinned but didn't say anything. I popped the lid on the small box and surprise registered on her face. She was speechless. I extracted the item and placed on her hand. "That's my appreciation for all the hard work you've been doing around here." Still nothing came from her mouth. I figured she was overcome with amazement. She wrapped her arms around my neck and gave me a kiss. I was embarrassed. Disengaging myself, I spied Lynn passing the doorway. I wanted to catch her but Sherrie was talkative and by the time I could break away, she was gone. --- Lynn answered the door. "May I come in?" I asked. She stepped back and held the door. She appeared tense. "What's troubling you?" "Hope Sherrie will be happy." She sounded hurt. "Meaning what?" "I saw you give her a ring." "Yes. Everyone at the center is receiving one. That's why I came here, to give you yours." "Everyone?" "Well, the guys get a watch, the gals get the ring. It's a 'Thank you'. The staff's worked hard and I want to show my appreciation. I meant to give this to you at the Center, but you slipped out early." My hand was extended with the small box. "Thanks." She said with gratitude, slipping the ring from the box and placing it on her finger. She was admiring the stone when I asked, "Did you think I'd given Sherrie a different ring?" Her eyes quickly darted to mine, before dropping. "Well, did you?" I asked again. Her eyes flicked to mine, "Yeah, I thought it was a diamond." "What made you think that?" "Well, you've been spending lots of time with her lately." "The time spent was because of work responsibilities. Beside I not interested in dating her." "Really?" She sounded genuinely surprised. "There's someone else I like." "Oh." Disappointment cascaded from her voice. "Lynn, do you have feelings for me?" "Thanks for the ring. Do you want something to drink?" She steered clear of my question and headed for the kitchen. "You avoided my question." She didn't answer, so I followed, leaning against the doorway. I watched as she worked, putting dishes away and straightening the countertop. There was only so much she could do before having to face me. A curious expression touched her face when she realized I wasn't going to let her ignore it. "Well, do you?" I again asked. She stood, leaning against the counter, her fingers nervously playing with the ring. "Do I what?" "Have feelings for me?" She was quiet for a minute. Almost imperceptibly she nodded. "Would you be interested in going on a date?" She smiled the prettiest smile. ---- I could bore you with other events, but I won't. As you've probably figured, Lynn and I dated for 3 months before she said "Yes" to another question. The diamond on her finger caught the attention of everyone at the Center. Sherrie may have been jealous, but neither of us cared. We were married this past May. She's a most wonderful woman, and I love her with my whole heart. We're living in Uncle Jessie's house; I still fish the stream, searching for 'Old Soldier'. I haven't caught him yet, but I'll keep trying. Lynn is pregnant with our first child. The doctors believe it's a boy, and if it is, we'll name him Jessie, after his Great Uncle. (Bless you Uncle Jessie, but I'm glad you're not alive because I'd strangle your scrawny neck.)