Wallflower

I turned away from her and lifted another pile of magazines from the cluttered floor. "Um, I can't make it tonight." My voice was subdued and anxious; I feared she could sense my insecurity surfacing.

Louise swung around to face me, her creamy complexion like ivory against the raven hair. "Honestly Heather, when are you going to get out and socialize some?"

"You mean meet some boys instead of socialize, don't you?"

"Well, that wouldn't hurt either. You're young, barely nineteen, and...well..."

"I know...I should be having fun, right?" I sighed loudly and looked at the jammed-packed room; mountains of magazines littered the floor. "I'll work late tonight. Someone has to stay here at the library till closing time."

Louise tossed her head and gave a snort. "You know it wouldn't hurt to close early. Half this itty-bitty town wouldn't know the difference!"

I had to agree; our small town off the east coast of Florida wasn't known for its lively interest in books. "But, I need to get these sorted tonight."

She reluctantly scanned the stacks of magazines. They had been piling up for weeks and the entire area needed a major overhaul. We had only begun the task and I knew it would demand time and attention. "So..." I muttered.

Shrugging she said, "You win...for now. But Heather, you're missing out on so much..." Her words trailed off and she patted me on the shoulder. "I'll leave you be for now and get out to the front desk."

I felt an immense sense of relief; she would leave me to my solitary job and I could work better alone. As I began shuffling through the out-dated magazines, I wondered if Louise was right: was I missing out on something?

I'd never been an extrovert and that's why this job at our local library had fit me so well after graduation. It was ideal, to my way of looking at things. Sure, the pay was scant and the hours long...but I had a niche in the back where I mended books, sorted and labeled magazines and helped with other inner workings of the library.

I always had plenty of time to check current books for my reading material too. That was important to me -- I'd been called a bookworm. I just loved reading and found lots of comfort in a good book or even writing to my pen-pals.

Oh, I had lots of friends through the mail; letter writing was my favorite hobby. Yet, I had to admit that Louise was right -- I often feel too introverted. I just can't help it though; I am shy!

I spent the next few hours at the front desk and watched people who sauntered in to gaze at the long shelves of books. Our library was an authentic historical landmark: a low-slung stucco building with old timey ceiling fans, potted palms and a corner with wicker chairs where we held the children's story hour. It had existed like this since the town was first established! Ancient, is what the local folks called it.

When time came to close, I locked up and headed out into the sultry Florida night. We were located about twenty miles from the ocean and the air felt damp sometimes, as though the sea had left a misty trace on the gentle winds. I slipped into my Toyota and headed home.

Driving through the dark night, I reflected back on why I was so shy. For the life of me, I couldn't get Louise's words out of my mind and I thought if she knew what a failure I was at being popular, she'd never suggest I join in anything social.

Louise was a gregarious person; she was charming and at ease with others. As librarian she had total command and handled her job with expertise. Her self-confidence reminded me of my sister, Cary. Oh yes, Cary...my lovely, personable, all-American beauty sister.

Suddenly I was drawn back into my past -- I could recall when Cary and I were young, how Mom always enthused about her looks and splendid personality. Maybe Mom tried not to show her preference for Gary, but she failed miserably. I forgave Mom because she'd had a harsh background; her folks had been dirt poor and she'd had a rough upbringing. After she married Dad, they managed better --he worked in a paper mill and Mom supplemented his income through a job in a department store.

Well, Mom always favored Cary because, I guess, she had high hopes for her future. I paled in comparison but I did want to win Mom's approval. Back in high school, Cary was a cheerleader -- and though nothing could have made me feel more ridiculous, I went out for cheerleader in ninth grade hoping to please Mom.

I still remember vividly the large gym, the polished floors and endless rows of bleachers filled with boisterous teens. How unmerciful they were to me! It was excruciating to parade myself before them in the short-short outfit I wore, all the time hearing their snickers and jeers.

True, I was no match for the vivacious Cary of slender figure and flowing blond hair, but I was cute in the traditional way -- short, coppery-brown hair, pixie face and petite body. But, on that day when I stepped out on the gym floor and began my routine, I died a little inside with every passing moment.

I wasn't surprised when I didn't get to be cheerleader. Mom was crushed and Cary feigned concern, but I vowed never to be caught letting myself in for such obvious humiliation again.

From that time on, I retreated more and more into myself. The years passed and Cary went away to become an airline attendant and I graduated high school, class of 1983. I stayed home with Mom and Dad; they needed me to help out a bit now that Dad had a bad back and was unable to work.

And, I don't know, Mom seemed so sad without Cary around. Not that she liked or approved of my job. She was always hollering at me to get out more; she thought I was burying myself away from the world. And maybe I was?

As I pulled into the narrow graveled driveway, I felt a pall of depression. Was I losing out on living? Why couldn't I be more outgoing?

Puzzled, I hurried from the car and toward our white frame home. We lived on the outskirts of town, just a few acres of land with lots of cypress and magnolia trees lining a dirt road out to the paved highway. Mom and Dad had a garden almost year round. They'd bought the place way back when they first married and were proud the mortgage was paid off.

When I stepped into the living room, I saw Mom standing near the hallway. Her glasses had slipped down and she shoved them up, saying, "Heather, what took so long?"

"I had to close the library tonight." I started toward the hallway.

"Well, hurry and freshen up. You know Angela expects us at the club meeting."

"Mom," I began slowly, "can't you just take the car and go alone?" I averted my eyes away from her piercing gaze.

"No. You need to get out and this is a good chance."

"Mom, I've got a bad headache," I lied, not wanting to attend the sewing club meeting and sit with all those ladies and hear their interrogation about why I wasn't married or even dating.

Mom frowned deeply. "Heather, are you sure? You know I want you to get out more. My gracious, how'll you ever meet any boys?"

She studied my face and I felt a hot flush creeping up my neck. "Please, do we have to go over this again?"

Dad suddenly stretched his arms overhead, yawning loudly and then stood up from the sofa. "Now, now Ethel, I'll drive you over to Angela's." He winked boldly at me. "Heather's tired, let her rest."

Mom searched my face again and then pushed up her glasses. "Well Walter, you can defend her if you want to, but just look at Cary, out doing things, flying all around the country. Why no telling..."

"That's about enough Ethel." Dad walked over and got Mom's purse from the closet. "Here." He handed it to her and said sharply, "Heather helps us by being here and I don't want to hear no more such talk. Let her be."

They looked at each other warily, as usual, and then Mom relented. "Oh all right, I suppose Heather is our one bright spot nowadays."

She came over and gave me a peck on the cheek. "There's supper in the oven, still warm. I'll be back around ten o'clock."

She gave me a wan smile as they headed out the door.

* * * *

That night I holed up in my bedroom. I'd always loved it for the cozy atmosphere. I have an old-fashioned four poster bed with quilted coverlet and lacy window curtains. Since the room is situated at the corner of our house, it has an odd windowseat overlooking the backyard. Lots of days I sit and daydream while watching sunset beyond the cypress trees.

I have a cheap used desk I've refurbished and sat down there quickly, seeing a pile of envelopes from the day's mail. These were my friends, my pen-pals. As I opened each envelope, I felt warmth and joy flow through me at their words. Mostly, these were letters from other girls or older women who enjoyed writing and sharing through letters.

When I'd finished, I lay down on the bed and tried to let the tension drain from my body. But the thoughts of my earlier confusion suddenly flooded me. Why was I cursed with this awful shyness? For what else could it be? What it all boiled down to, I thought, was a simple matter of being too shy to take the initiative.

Always, I would avoid confronting awkward situations, crowds or anything that remotely resembled the potential for embarrassment I'd felt during that cheerleader tryout. Yes, that must have been the beginning and now, well...what was I to do? Would I spend the rest of my days hiding and cringing due to shyness?

Finally, I ate some supper, took a soothing shower and hit the sack. I despaired over my vaguely empty life before drifting into an uneasy sleep.

* * * *

Several days dragged by; nothing changed at the library or at home. I was still hung up on my shyness but figured there was not much to be done. So, I kept on with routine and began to fall back into the reticent traits. In fact, the next week I also stayed late and closed the library.

That night, as I headed home, I remembered I needed some stamps and swung in at the post office to pick up a batch. It was after hours but the lobby was open. I hurried inside toward a dispenser on the wall.

As I slipped coins in the slot, I heard a faint grinding of gears, the wheeze and whine of a diesel engine. I looked out into the wide street to see a monstrous semi pull alongside the curb. I watched uneasily as a muscular young man climbed down from the cab and came striding purposefully up the steps to the post office.

Although seized with panic, I steadied myself and stood anxiously at the long wooden table. My hands trembled as I opened my purse to look for more change.

The young man strode into the lobby and the glare of florescent lights removed his shadowy image. He was handsome, devastatingly so! I seemed unable to move as I looked at him: he was over six foot, broad-shouldered and had a rugged face. Thick wavy blond hair framed strong features and offset his sky-blue eyes that danced with a spirited life all their own. I tried to avert my gaze but his resonant voice broke the silence.

"Miss, do they have a copier here?" He grinned and his rugged face relaxed into pleasant warmth.

I stammered, "Uh...yes," and pointed toward the corner where a Xerox copier awaited.

He nodded and continued to smile, looking at me a long moment. Finally, he sort of straightened and walked over to the copier.

I had my stamps and was actually ready to leave... but I couldn't. Something glued me to the spot and I continued to stare as he began to run off copies of material.

Looking at me, he said gruffly, "Tickets. The company wants us to mail 'em in from on the road. Ever hear of such a thing?"

I moistened my lips and swallowed hard. "No. Well... uh..." I was stammering and stuttering; I felt so embarrassed! Just like I'd always been afraid of doing, I was making a fool of myself. My palms were even wet and my mouth had gone dry! I cast my eyes down and started toward the double doors.

"Wait Miss. I mean..." He paused and I saw him coming in my direction. Before I knew what was happening he said sincerely, "Do you live around here?"

I was dumbfounded. I admit I was feeling attracted to him...but he was a stranger! Still, I found myself babbling, "Yes. On the edge of town."

He studied me seriously, then said, "You are a very, very pretty girl. Single?"

I was so shocked I lost my voice! I had known boys in high school, even dated a few, but never, absolutely never had I felt this overwhelming sensation that rendered me helpless. I tried to regain my composure and managed to mumble, "Um, yes..."

He suddenly looked down at the stamps in my hand and snapped his fingers. The burning light returned to his blue eyes. "I know. I'll write to you. Would that be okay? I mean, I'm just passing through here and... well, this is an unusual way to meet."

We both laughed and it broke the tension. He looked away, out toward the idling diesel, and then back to me. A serious note entered his voice, "You may think I'm a kook...but...I'm not, just an average guy." He paused, a perplexed frown knitting his forehead. "Look, can I write to you?"

I had my reservations. After all, he was a complete stranger. It was all so weird I just didn't know what to think. I looked up at his sincere expression and said rapidly, "I'll give you the address where I work. You can write me there, okay?"

He stuck out his hand and grasped mine, shaking it easily. "It's a deal. Expect a letter in a couple of days."

He got the copies and mailed them. I pulled a pad out of my purse and wrote down my name and the library address.

We shook hands formally at the door and he took off, climbing back up into his diesel. As I walked to my car, I heard the rumbling engine as his truck crawled along the streets and out of town.

Driving home, I was unnerved. What on earth had I done? Me...shy, introverted and mousy...was I mad to even think I'd hear from this mesmerizing stranger? Why, I thought dazedly, he didn't even tell me his name!

When I pulled into the graveled driveway, I vowed not to mention the occurrence to anyone. I'd probably never hear from him but somehow, that thought saddened me.

Mom was silent all through the evening meal and then, instead of watching TV like I usually did, I retreated to my bedroom.

As I lay on my bed, staring at the ceiling dreamily, I couldn't stop thinking of the handsome guy. I knew he was more than I'd ever dreamed of in the way of looks. Oh, I'd had a few dates in high school, mostly boys I considered friends, but there was no fireworks.

I'd dreamed, fantasized of love -- a pure, white flame that would devour me and make me feel like all the heroines in novels. But, it just never happened. For one thing, nice boys either went away to college or married after high school and now I never had many opportunities to meet anyone.

I wasn't a party person but I could understand why some of my girlfriends from school went to those things. Or there was church, but our congregation provided little variety in the way of boys.

I stood and walked over to the windowseat, looking out at the bright moonlight filtering through the cypress trees. Sometimes I did get lonesome, I thought sadly.

When I finally slipped between the covers, I let my thoughts focus on the handsome guy. Just remembering his burning blue eyes made me feel better as I drifted off to sleep.

* * * *

It seemed time stood still for the next few days. Every day I'd wait with breathless anticipation for the mail to arrive at the library. And every day, without fail, there was nothing for me.

But Wednesday morning Louise called to me, "Heather, a letter came for you."

I hurried out to the front desk and saw her holding the white envelope casually in her hand. She laughed and said, "A secret admirer?"

I blushed and reached for the letter. "Maybe," I kidded.

She grinned and said, "Well, it's about time!"

I took the letter and headed back to my post. His name and return address were on the envelope: Brad King, Jacksonville, Florida. That was only seventy-five miles from our town!

Slowly, my hands trembling with anxiety, I slit open the envelope and saw his handwriting spilling over the lined paper. My eyes eagerly read the message: He wanted to come back to town. He wanted to take me out on a date. He liked our small town and that's why he'd stopped at the post office, bypassing his usual Interstate connection. Could I send my phone number to his address so he could call me and arrange a date?

Could he ever, I thought with glee! But before I let myself get too carried away, I wondered why he was so eager to date me? I felt a tidal wave of insecurity engulf me -- it was hard to believe he found me attractive.

Yet I drove home that afternoon in a state of anticipation. I knew, one way or another, I'd send him the number, regardless of my shyness. And, this was more than a girl could dream of -- to have a date with someone like him!

I didn't know that much about him and decided the best bet would be to let him come to my home and pick me up, providing our phone call went well.

Mom noticed my flushed face and asked, "You sure are bright-eyed tonight. Any reason?"

"No." I fought against telling her, at least until I could talk to Brad.

I jotted him a note later and mailed it early the next morning. I knew he'd be calling within a few days and I hoped it'd go fine. Surely, I could end this fluttery sensation in my stomach by then!

On Sunday afternoon, while my parents were gone visiting with friends, he called. The phone shrilled and I ran to answer it.

"Hello."

"Is this Heather?" His voice was husky and low.

"Yes," I gushed nervously.

There was a pause and then he said, "I know this whole thing is really off the wall, but I really want to go out with you. That night, at the post office, I was..." His voice dropped and he gave a sigh before continuing, "stunned by you."

I was silent. What could I say to that? My heart was racing so fiercely I thought I might faint!

"That sounds like a line, but it's not! I mean it. And, to prove my words, I'd like to arrange a date," he ended on an uncertain note.

I said hesitantly, "I know nothing about you..."

"I assure you Heather, I'm a decent guy. There's no way to convince you of that, not long distance like this."

I stood holding the receiver, a lump in my throat. It was true, this call was long distance and each minute had a price.

Finally, he said softly, "Heather, just give me a chance. How about me picking you up at your folks and we can talk some there...get to know each other before we go out together?"

I felt the prison of my shyness closing around me, holding me tightly in its grip. I already knew how much nerve it would take to accept a date with him, being vulnerable to rejection, embarrassment if he didn't like me.

The long silence prompted him to ask, "How about it? I'll prove my words...I'm no bum!"

I had to smile at his determination. "Okay, I'll give you my address. Got a pen?"

I gave him our address and then before hanging up he said once more, "You'll see, I'm worth the risk!"

When we hung up, I felt the tension drain from me. Yet, though I was scared, I was determined to fight my shyness. I walked to my bedroom full of doubts but feeling very alive!

* * * *

The following week was filled with doubts and fears, but I remained determined to conquer my shyness. I counted the days and hours tediously.

Fortunately, Mom was happy when I announced my date for Saturday night, and insisted on preparing a meal for Brad. Looking at me, she said, "Heather, this'll be good for you. Wait and see."

Dad only nodded and I tried to be confident in the presence of Mom's enthusiasm but later, as the week passed, I'd lie awake at night, worrying and wondering. Would I be at ease, get past my shyness?

By the time Sunday afternoon rolled around, I was battling all the old insecurities. As I stood looking at my freckled pixie face and bouncy copper hair in the mirror, I fervently hoped Brad would find me attractive.

Amber sunlight blazed through my lacy curtains over the windowseat and I sat down, my eyes drawn to the neat yard outside. A perfectly clear Florida day was ending and the sun was dying a red death out past the cypress trees.

Steeling myself, I hurried from my bedroom and down the hallway.

Mom saw me and brightened. "Honey, you look gorgeous!"

"Thanks Mom." I blushed in spite of knowing her compliment was only meant to make me feel better. Cary was the gorgeous one!

I quickly put the linen cloth on our dining table and began to set out the good china. Delicious scents from the kitchen made me hungry while at the same time, my stomach felt jittery.

Just as I set the last dish in place, there was a knock at the door. Dad roused himself from the sofa and walked to the door.

I heard him say, "Come on in and have a seat."

There was silence and then the husky, resonant voice that sent a rapid flash of recognition down my spine, "Thank you sir. You must be Heather's father?"

"Yes. Heather said you were coming for supper."

I hurried out of the dining room, not wanting to allow them any awkward moments. When I stepped into that room there was a rush of heated memory; I could almost hear the jeers of kids that long ago day in the gym. I realized, standing there silently, that I was putting myself in a position of being vulnerable. Please, I prayed, let me have the courage to accept the situation, whatever the outcome.

My eyes were drawn to Brad as he sat stiffly on the floral sofa. I smiled and his face crinkled with a friendly grin. He said, "Heather, I hope I didn't arrive too early." His blue eyes glanced at his wristwatch and he apologized, "This is real early, I guess we didn't set a time?"

Dad cleared his throat and removed a cigarette from his shirt pocket. "Think nothing of it son. We're way ahead of the game." He sniffed pointedly at the appetizing aroma coming from the kitchen.

"Your Mom must be some cook, from those delicious scents." Brad's eyes had settled on me and did not appear to be displeased.

I nervously crossed the room and sat down in a recliner near the sofa. "How was your trip from Jacksonville?"

"Fine, just fine." Brad looked down and then glanced at Dad. "Mr. Clark, ever take Heather out to the beach?"

"Oh, lots of times...she loves it, don't you Heather?"

I fumbled with my silky dress, folding and unfolding the thin material. "Yes. I love to watch the wildlife, especially real early in the morning. The best time to see the heron is early in the morning. Just to stand quietly and watch..."

I blushed as I saw Brad staring at me intently. He remarked, "Some beaches in the nature preserves are great..."

I felt my temper flare. "Yeah, some are. But it won't stay that way if developers don't leave them alone! Those condos and motels, they're a threat to all the magnificent wildlife." Fighting to regain my composure, I stopped and sighed, then said in a calmer voice, "I'm sorry. But those contractors make me sick, destroying such unspoiled areas."

I noticed the way Brad's blue eyes saddened. He leaned forward and nodded gravely. "Nature should be protected from man, sometimes."

Hoping to change the subject, I said, "I've forgotten to introduce you. Dad, this is Brad King..."

Mom appeared in the doorway and I added, "Brad, this is my Mom and Dad."

Brad got to his feet and shook hands with Mom first and then Dad, smiling till I thought his face would crack. Observing his tall build, wide shoulders and rugged features, I realized he was even better looking than I remembered. I knew my hands were betraying my anxiety by the way they trembled.

Mom was more than impressed; she was enthusiastic and glowed with pride. "Why son, you're welcome here. I just hope you can eat this meal I've cooked."

I was quick to verify her culinary talent, "Mom is the best cook this side of Daytona!"

At last we were all seated around the dining table and eating Mom's delicious meal. I was a bundle of nerves, trying to eat delicately, not let my vague unease force me into some bumbling action, like dropping silverware or spilling a glass of tea.

But, unfortunately near the end of the meal, when I stood to remove the plates and help serve dessert, my hand accidently hit a glass and the splatter of tea drenched the white linen cloth. I gasped and stood motionless in shock.

Mom's eyes softened behind her glasses and she said, "Honey, that's okay. Let's grab a roll of paper towels, get it cleaned..." and she was up and moving toward the kitchen.

I glanced at Brad and instantly saw an understanding expression. "Hey, would you believe I'm glad that happened to you? Yep, if it wasn't you, it'd be me. I'm usually the one who spills their drink at family meals."

Dad pushed back his chair and laughed. "I know what you mean son. Damn if I ain't the one who usually upsets the apple cart!"

I lowered my eyes and stepped back from the table. "Thanks guys. Accidents happen, I guess." But why did it have to happen now, I thought painfully.

When the meal was over, Brad sat on the sofa near me and we all watched TV. Around nine o'clock, he turned to me and asked if we could go out and sit on the porch swing. I agreed, though I felt a rush of insecurity again.

The night was dreamy: a black sky was relieved by the silvery stars and golden moonlight streamed down through the cypress and magnolia trees. Gentle wind stirred as we sat in the creaking swing, swaying back and forth in companionable silence. Faraway night sounds reached us: a barking dog, trucks on the distant highway and, down the dirt road, the faint harmony of hymn-book singing from our small church. This was my world but I feared Brad would think it boring.

Suddenly he reached for my hand and said softly, "Oh Heather, this is like finding heaven on earth...so quiet, so peaceful..."

I was glad he liked the serenity I treasured. "I always thought of this as a little corner of paradise."

"Heather, I want to tell you about myself. I..." he hesitated, searching my shadowed face. "You probably think I'm a nut, the way I acted in the post office and later, insisting I had to see you."

I felt his hand tighten and the warmth filled me with a strange, provocative yearning. Was this how heroines in novels felt? "Brad, I..."

He tenderly placed a finger on my lips. "Don't speak. Let me explain. The first time I saw you standing there, your eyes shining, the tremble in your hands...I don't know, there was something very vulnerable about you. I was attracted to you, in more than just a physical sense. Later, I dreamed about you and I pictured this house, this environment for you. An old-fashioned girl, one who comes straight from a land of yesterday but has not yet experienced the fullness of life."

I gulped and looked at him solemnly. "Not experienced life fully," I repeated.

"No. But Heather, I have. I've traveled, been sort of the roaming kind, driving my semi all over the country and never having roots. Oh, there's my family in Jacksonville. I stay there when I'm not on a run...but, it's a bad life. What I mean, the city life, noise, pollution...all that goes with it. I'm tired of it, I want peace, quiet, a settled life."

I was speechless...for the more I learned of him, the more I knew he was almost too good to be true. And, that sounded an alarm of caution.

"But," I questioned, "wouldn't you miss being on the road? Being a trucker?"

He touched my face gently and sighed deeply. "Heather, I've been a truckdriver for two years. I don't like it. I'm ready for a change. I want a home, to settle down and..." He took his hand away and stared out at the moon-bright yard. "I'm twenty-five, single and have a college education. I can get a job in management with my qualifications. In fact, I did that for a year after I graduated. But the reason I took up trucking was..."

Brad's abrupt silence deepened and piano music from the church drifted down the road. He rubbed his forehead. "I don't want to get into that story. Let's just say I went trucking to escape a broken heart. And now, well... my heart has mended." He reached for my hand again and squeezed tightly. "Heather, I want to be the one to show you the fullness of life."

And then, amazingly and swiftly, his lips were upon mine and I felt myself melting in his arms.

Later, we walked down the dirt road and talked some more. I learned that his parents owned a small business, and he had two older brothers.

He told me briefly of his doomed relationship with an outgoing, popular girl in Jacksonville. It sounded like he'd been in love with her but, in the end, she dumped him for a very wealthy guy.

As badly as I wanted to be open and share my insecurities with him, I just couldn´t do it. Something, maybe that old shyness, prevented me expressing my tender feelings for him.

I feared he´d never understand about my failures -- the humiliation of my cheerleader tryout, my retreat from challenge...the innate bookishness and introverted traits. So, when he held me tightly and kissed me lingeringly, I was unable to reward his openness with even one shared confidence.

Still, he seemed satisfied for a promise of a date the next weekend. We planned to go to the beach, watch sunrise and, hopefully, get a glance of the rare heron.

His goodnight kiss left me reeling with joy and hope. Still, I wondered if I would ever break out of my shell?

* * * *

The days drifted by and I was in a glow all my own. My folks were pleased, always supportive of my intentions to see Brad again. All in all, things were smooth. Sure, the doubts, the self-doubts and shyness still plagued me but I was so alive with dreams and fantasies I wouldn't let worry ruin it.

Wednesday morning I awoke to the sound of familiar voices engaged in conversation down the hallway from my bedroom. Listening to the busy hum of voices, I recognized the silky smooth speech of my sister, Cary.

She must be home for a brief visit, I thought as I dressed for work. Pulling on my regular pants outfit and gathering my hair into a chignon, I knew I´d be a poor comparison next to Cary.

I vowed to act cheerful -- after all, wasn´t I dating an outstanding guy this very next weekend?

When I walked into the dining room where Mom and Cary were having coffee, I saw Cary was at her best, as usual. She was wearing a fashionable dress, complete with complimenting accessories, and her hair was cut in a style that made her patrician features and blue eyes fantastically appealing. Her pouty smile was always sexy.

Sliding into a chair, I poured myself a cup of coffee and asked, “So, how´s it going Cary?”

She threw back her head, revealing her slender neck, and laughed her throaty, sensual laugh. “Little Heather, you never change, always curious!”

“Yep, I´m still the same old me.”

Mom was subdued, her face pale. She was usually so bright and cheerful in Cary´s presence I had to wonder at her solemn face. “Anything wrong Mom?” I questioned.

She lowered her head, pushing up her glasses and shrugging slightly. “Why don´t you ask Cary that question?”

I looked at Cary´s angry face as she burst out, “Mom! What I told you is private!”

“Well, I think it would do Heather some good to hear what you just told me...” Mom looked at Cary and for once, her eyes reflected doubt, an almost imperceptible sadness instead of the usual admiration.

I leaned forward, sipping my coffee and staring at Cary. “What´s going on? I´d like to know...if you care to tell me.”

Cary slumped in her chair and I found her hunched shoulders and drooping head a sharp surprise. She was always the very image of perfection, popularity and success all rolled into one. To see her in this weary demeanor startled and frightened me.

After an agonizing silence, Cary tried to speak in a moderate tone but an edge of hysteria was in her voice: “Looks like the glory girl has been grounded. I may not get to fly anymore. At least, not for a while.”

I was instantly sympathetic. “Oh Cary, I´m so sorry. I know how you love flying. What´s the problem?”

Her brows lifted archly. “I´m pregnant.”

I was stunned, my mouth gaping. “Pregnant,” I repeated inanely. “But...who...I mean how...” I stammered almost incoherently.

Cary stiffened her shoulders and her voice sounded tough and husky, instead of warm and throaty. “It´s unimportant. The thing is, it´s too late to do anything about it. I guess I´m stuck so I´ll have to stop flying while I´m pregnant.”

“But, but...” I felt my face draining of color. Did she mean there was no husband, no intended father? But surely there must be a man somewhere that she was in love with and who was the father of her child?

I saw bleakness in Cary´s blue eyes and I feared there would be no husband, or at least no one who wanted the responsibility. “Oh Cary...”

She shuddered and then, slowly and sadly, she leaned her arms against the table and bent her head, tears falling freely.

I jumped up and put my arms around her. “Oh Cary, it´ll be all right...” My words droned on and on; trying to comfort, trying to ease the pain she was feeling.

Mom too was crying and I felt my own tears slipping down my cheeks. All this time I thought Cary was the lucky one, the privileged beauty who was immune to any of the pain in life. And yet, here she sat, more miserable than I´d probably ever been!

What a dope I´d been to think my own problems were the only problems or that I suffered more with my shyness than she did with her beauty!

I didn´t know what to say so I merely whispered, “Cary, you´ll have a place here. That is, if you don´t get too bored.”

Cary laughed through her tears. Then she sat up and peered at my face. “Heather, are you still at the library?”

“Yes.” I sat down again, watching her expression.

“Dating anyone special?”

I nodded, a slow smile edging across my face. “I met a nice guy, just last week.”

“Well, it´s about time! I always wondered when you´d get over that hang-up about not making cheerleader.”

I was instantly on the defensive. “What do you mean?” I demanded.

“I mean it was wrong of you to base your whole life on that early experience. You let it eat away at you, day by day. It soured you to your own potential. Oh, you are bookish and quiet...but you let it put you in prison, a self-made prison of shyness!”

I wanted to protest but her words hit hard at the truth I´d realized myself. In fact, I´d almost allowed it to rule me forever. But, looking at her loving concern, I knew suddenly I could escape my self-made prison.

“Cary, welcome home. And thanks,” I said as I hugged her tightly. “Thanks for saying what I've finally realized myself after all this time.”

* * * *

I thought about my talk with Cary the rest of the week. I was still thinking about it Saturday morning when Brad picked me up, around five o'clock.

It was still dark when we arrived at the beach and we took a blanket down with us, spreading it on the shadowed sand. Behind us, high sand dunes were ridged with sea oats swaying in a brisk wind, only a faint glimmer of daybreak on the ocean's horizon.

Brad took my hand in his and we waited breathlessly for the first hint of sun breaking over the ocean floor. We both wanted to observe the wildlife, see the fragile heron, the tiny sandpipers and even watch the sea gulls soar above in clear morning skies.

Just at the moment when the sun peeked over the glassy ocean, I softly tugged on Brad´s arm. “Brad, sunrise is always a new beginning, don´t you think?”

“Yes,” he replied, seriously.

I looked at his ruggedly handsome face so full of promise and life and knew my shyness was melting away. Sure, I´d always be bookish, quiet and somewhat introverted...but I would learn to reach out to others.

I had learned that I must take the first step, I must at least try because no one could do it for me.

To overcome my shyness was only the first barrier, but I felt sure I´d be a happier person for the effort. I turned to Brad as the sun spread a brilliant blaze across the skyline and said, “This is a new beginning...for me and for us.”

And so it was!