February is known as the month for sweethearts, for love. Whether it’s boyfriend and girlfriend, husband and wife, or parents and children (when we lived in New Jersey, the family next to us had 3 daughters and the father always sent his wife a large bouquet and each of his daughters a small bouquet—so sweet!) the flower and card industries earn millions, even billions. I’ve touched on flowers and cards in the past, and today I thought I’d take you back to the fun I remember from childhood.
As is custom in most schools today, when I attended elementary school, we always had a classroom Valentine’s Day party. Days before the party the teacher would have us bring in a paper lunch bag to decorate with strips of colored paper, sparkles and crayons to hold the Valentine’s cards received during the party. (Sometimes, we did this with a shoe box.) Boys were required to participate, too, and if you were giving out cards, you had to give one to everyone in the class, not just your friends. While sitting at our desks feasting on candy (I remember the small hearts labeled Be Mine, Valentine) and cookies and sipping punch, we opened our cards and admired each one, then proudly brought them home to share with our parents and siblings. Valentine's Day was one of the few days during the school year when we were allowed to have a party in class, and even though we were too young to understand the romantic aspect behind the day, we had fun, mostly because back then food and drinks were prohibited in the classroom.
To get you into the spirit of the day, take a peek into my Valentine’s Day story. I’m sure Tom and Jessie will keep you entertained… and melt your heart.
Available at Amazon: www.amazon.com/dp/B01ATV451O
Excerpt:
Quietly
moving across the floor, he nudged the door open to find Jessie wearing her
night clothes and sitting in a chair before the hearth, her blonde hair hanging
loose down her back. She cradled a cup in her lap, caressed the rim while
staring at the low-burning fire. He filled a cup and joined her.
“Can’t
sleep,” he asked.
“Oh,”
she startled, and arched her neck toward him. “I didn’t hear you.”
“I
didn’t mean to frighten you.” He nodded toward the hearth. “May I join you?”
Her
guarded gaze traveled the length of him. “Al-all right.” She shifted her
attention back to the crackling wood.
He
pulled a chair beside her and sat, took a long drink of the hot brew. “Are you
up because you’re worried about the squatter?”
“No.
The sheriff and the deputies will find him.” She kept her gaze on the flame.
“They won’t allow harm to come to their wives and children.”
“Reckon
you’re right about that.” He took another long swallow to settle the unease
snaking through his gut. He had plenty to say to her, and hoped the words came
out right.
“Why
are you awake?” she asked.
“I’ve
got a lot on my mind.”
“Most
people do.” She leaned forward, pulled a log from a basket beside the hearth
and added it to the fire. Sat back in her chair.
“Jessie,”
he started, only to pause and take a deep breath. He let it out slow, prayed
his gumption wouldn’t desert him. “I apologize for what I said to you earlier.
You’re more than a waitress to me. You’re someone I care about very much.”
She
sniffled and met his gaze. Except for the moisture clinging to her eyes, her
expression was void of feeling. “So you’ve often said.” She cocked her head. “Are
you willing to do something about that?”
He
swallowed hard. “If you’re referring to marriage, than I’m sorry, but the
answer is no. I can’t marry you.” He touched her arm. “But I can be your
friend.” And love you with everything I am. “Someone you
can depend upon for anything.”
“I
have friends, Tom,” she said, stonily. “I want more than that.”
