Chapter 3

“Drum? Is that you?” she asked with incredulity in her voice.

‘Fuck, she’s still gorgeous’, er, I mean she presented a vision of loveliness to my eyes, and my heart was in my throat, or maybe in my mouth, because I couldn’t say anything for a second.

“Hello, Frosty. It’s been a few years, but it’s me, Tom. Your brother couldn’t be here, but he asked me to bring you some things for Valentines Day. Is that alright?” I sputtered.

“My Hell! Of all the people I expected to see on my doorstep, you are probably the last. Won’t you please come in?” she said, opening the screen door for me to enter.

Walking inside, she stepped back so I could go past her into the front room. She closed the door and bid me to sit on the sofa. Sitting, I felt silly, looking like a suitor with my hands full of flowers and chocolate. She could see my discomfiture, so she took the proffered flowers and chocolates and sat them on a sideboard.

“So, these are from Tim, and not you?” she inquired.

“Well, there is a card from me. I didn’t even know you were in town, until Tim asked me to bring those to you. I’m sorry I haven’t kept in touch.” I explained.

She then sat across from me in a chair.

“How have you been?” We said in unison.

We laughed. I indicated she should go first:

“Drum Larson, or is it just Tom, now days? It’s been so long since I’ve seen you. I guess the last time was on your graduation from high school. You and Tim, in your cap and gown, acting like you had the world by the tail. Please tell me what you’ve been doing?” she said politely.

All the time I sat there I had been avidly looking her over and found her to be much the same Babe she had been in high school, only more mature. You could see traces of her sadness around her eyes and mouth, but she still took my breath away. I gave her a quick synopsis of my life, including my dad’s passing and me taking care of my mom. I told her a little about my business but kept it to a minimum. When I was finished, I inquired:

“How about you, Frosty, or is it just Breanne, now? I heard you were a teacher, and I want to offer my condolences on the passing of your husband. It seemed like such a short time between Tim telling me you were married, and then that your husband had passed. I’m sure it’s a great loss to you.” I pontificated.

“My husband didn’t pass – he was killed! It’s not the same as someone you see in a hospital bed, who then goes to sleep, not to awaken. He was blown to bits, and I had to bury a sealed coffin! I didn’t get to say goodbye. We hadn’t even had a chance to Skype, yet. He’d written me two letters, and I received them after I was notified of his death. Oh, Tom, I fell apart and only my parents’ love and understanding put me back together. I had to take a months’ leave of absence from my classroom, because every time I got in front of my students, I’d burst out crying, and it was so hard on my class.” she said, vehemently.

At first, I couldn’t move, but she was crying openly, so I quickly knelt in front of her and took her hands in mine. I let her cry, thinking it may be cathartic. After her cries diminished, she began sniffling, so I arose, pulled a tissue from a dispenser on the side table, and handed it to her. She sniffed and blew into the tissue a couple times, then through watery eyes she turned her gaze to me. I had such an upwelling of tender feelings, I think she could read them in my eyes, because she came into my arms and I held her tightly, letting her continue her sniffling. After about five minutes, she pushed back and looked me in the eyes once more:

“If my big brother couldn’t be here, you’re the best thing I could ask for. I really appreciate you coming. I’m sure your wife is waiting for you to shower her with Valentines Day gifts.” she sniffed.

“Breanne, I thought you knew I haven’t married yet. If I had, Tim would have told you. I just seem to be waiting for someone I haven’t found yet. Either that, or I’m too wrapped up in my work and being a momma’s boy, to find a mate.” I explained.

Stepping further away from me, she looked me up and down, then commented:

“Hmph! I’m no real judge, but standing before me, I see a prime example of husband material. You and my stupid brother are great catches, so you must run pretty fast, because I can’t believe some hot-to-trot women haven’t snapped you both up!”

“I never went out for track, so I don’t run so fast. I just never traveled in the right circles, I guess, to find that special someone.” I equivocated.

“Do you really believe there’s a special someone for you? Are you just not willing to commit or are you just too picky?” she chided.

“I have no idea. I just know I’m not married yet. There was someone I thought was special...” I chopped off my comment, before I put my foot in my mouth.

She caught the comment, though, and pounced:

“And you let her get away?”

“Uh, she got married.” I offered.

“What? You didn’t fight for her?” she exclaimed.

“Uh, she didn’t know I had feelings for her.” I added.

“That is so sad. You must tell them how you feel.” she explained.

“Um, I guess. That’s water under the bridge, now.”

“Oh, Tom, I’m sorry. You came to give me gifts from Tim, and I’m riding your ass about things in the past. Can I get you a drink; a glass of wine, water, or something else?” she apologized.

“No thanks, but I had a thought: I always take my mom out to dinner on Valentines. Do you have plans for this evening? Would you care to join us?” I proposed.

“Oh, that would be lovely, but I don’t want to impose on you and your mother.”

“I’m sure it would be fine with her. She gets to talk to me all the time. It would give her someone else to converse with. We usually go to Prather’s, so it’s kind of fancy, but not formal. Would you feel like going?” I coaxed.

“Well ... I’d need to clean up and change. What time?” she perked up.

“You have plenty of time. The reservations aren’t until 7pm. I’ll call and change the seating from two to three. I’m sure it’s no bother. We usually sit at a table for four. I can pick you up at 6:30. Is that alright?”

“That definitely changes my planned quiet and dull evening, but yes! Are you sure about this, Tom? she commented.

“Absolutely! It makes my evening that much more enjoyable, too. I’d better go, so you can start getting ready. I announced.

“Thank you, so much, Drum, er, Tom.”

“Either one is fine, Frosty.” I told her.

“Me too, Frosty or Breanne, I mean!”

“Got it! See you at 6:30.”

She ushered me out and I got in my car, nearly passing out from excitement. I had managed to carry out my assignment from Tim, and not make a fool of myself. I’d almost slipped there, but managed to cover up, I hoped. Now, I had a super evening ahead of me: catering to my mom and getting the chance to look at a beautiful Breanne all evening. Hopefully, I won’t put my foot in my mouth tonight. Going home, I let mom know we’d have an additional guest at the table. She knew Breanne from our teen years, having seen her a few times at combined family get-togethers. She inquired about her, and I filled in the gaps, including the sensitive subject of her husband’s death. My mom is tender-hearted, so I felt she would not broach the subject, unless Frosty brought it up. I was anxious to leave, well before it was time.