would sever our relationship, I was surprised when he phoned.
“I got your reply. Let’s forget I asked about the trip.”
Relieved, I mumbled, “Thanks for understanding.”
“We are still going out tomorrow night, aren’t we?”
“Sure.” After all, he didn’t seem to feel awkward about the situation, so why should I?
The following evening he held the car door open with one hand and handed me a legal looking paper with the other. “Just happened to be in the post office today and picked this up for you.”
It was an application for a passport. What? Why, that sly man! Without comment, I tucked it into my purse and changed the subject. Nothing more was said, and we enjoyed the evening.
Amused he had bothered to get me an application, I filled out the papers, had my photo taken and doled out the $75.00 fee without telling him.
While attending a party with friends, we were invited to join their dance club. I was excited, but Mel resisted. “I played trumpet in a swing band during my youth so I never danced very much.”
“If you’re a musician, you’ve got rhythm,” I reminded him. “If you’ve got rhythm, you can dance.”
Although reluctant at first, Mel relented and agreed to take ballroom dance lessons—where he held me in his arms for the first time. With him holding me, I felt my heart melt . . . and immediately rued our platonic relationship. But I couldn’t tell him lest he remind me about our “never marry again” agreement.
Then he began bringing candy and flowers, and I knew I was being courted. Although he was careful not to mention marriage, I sensed we were falling in love. Still, neither of us said a thing until the day he invited me to dinner at his house.
Fine china, crystal and sterling silver on a white linen tablecloth greeted me. Red roses graced the table. Before we sat down to eat, I confessed I had applied for and received my passport. When I showed it to him, his eyes sparkled and he flashed a mischievous grin.
He served a delicious rack of lamb with all the trimmings and we had a lively conversation as we ate. During dessert he said, “Sally, if I asked you to marry me, what would you say?”
“You haven’t asked me yet.” My startled response was quick. Awkward. Even a little coy.
“I think I just did.”
Unprepared, I stammered, “Oh. Oh. P-p-probably.”
He looked dejected, but didn’t pursue the subject. I was so surprised I didn’t know what to say. We cleared away dinner and cleaned up his kitchen, then he took me home.
Most of that night I lay awake pondering his proposal. I had been married to an extraordinary man once. But Mel was wonderful, too. Was it possible to marry two extraordinary men in one lifetime?
The next morning, he called. “Last night I asked you to marry me and you said probably. How about a more definite answer,” he urged. “Like yes?”
“But . . . what about our agreement?”
“Let’s just forget it.”
“Forget what?” I smiled into the phone, tingling with excitement.
“Let’s fly to England for our honeymoon and never say never again.”
Sally Kelly-Engeman
3
THE PERFECT
DRESS
W hat is a princess on this day without the garnish where beauty lay?
Gina Romanello
After having to wear hideous bridesmaid’s outfits at the weddings of her two closest friends, Donna welcomed the opportunity to carry out her revenge.
CLOSE TO HOME © John McPherson. Reprinted by permission of UNIVERSAL PRESS SYNDICATE. All rights reserved.
She Did It Her Way
T he best and most beautiful things in the world cannot be seen or even touched. They must be felt with the heart.
Helen Keller
“Mom, we’re getting married . . . sometime in June.” This from my hippie daughter calling on a pay phone in Maine. (No phone or electricity at her house—or perhaps cabin is a better word.)
“We don’t want a fancy wedding or dressy clothes or a lot of guests. We just want to be married in your backyard. I’ll let you know the
“I got your reply. Let’s forget I asked about the trip.”
Relieved, I mumbled, “Thanks for understanding.”
“We are still going out tomorrow night, aren’t we?”
“Sure.” After all, he didn’t seem to feel awkward about the situation, so why should I?
The following evening he held the car door open with one hand and handed me a legal looking paper with the other. “Just happened to be in the post office today and picked this up for you.”
It was an application for a passport. What? Why, that sly man! Without comment, I tucked it into my purse and changed the subject. Nothing more was said, and we enjoyed the evening.
Amused he had bothered to get me an application, I filled out the papers, had my photo taken and doled out the $75.00 fee without telling him.
While attending a party with friends, we were invited to join their dance club. I was excited, but Mel resisted. “I played trumpet in a swing band during my youth so I never danced very much.”
“If you’re a musician, you’ve got rhythm,” I reminded him. “If you’ve got rhythm, you can dance.”
Although reluctant at first, Mel relented and agreed to take ballroom dance lessons—where he held me in his arms for the first time. With him holding me, I felt my heart melt . . . and immediately rued our platonic relationship. But I couldn’t tell him lest he remind me about our “never marry again” agreement.
Then he began bringing candy and flowers, and I knew I was being courted. Although he was careful not to mention marriage, I sensed we were falling in love. Still, neither of us said a thing until the day he invited me to dinner at his house.
Fine china, crystal and sterling silver on a white linen tablecloth greeted me. Red roses graced the table. Before we sat down to eat, I confessed I had applied for and received my passport. When I showed it to him, his eyes sparkled and he flashed a mischievous grin.
He served a delicious rack of lamb with all the trimmings and we had a lively conversation as we ate. During dessert he said, “Sally, if I asked you to marry me, what would you say?”
“You haven’t asked me yet.” My startled response was quick. Awkward. Even a little coy.
“I think I just did.”
Unprepared, I stammered, “Oh. Oh. P-p-probably.”
He looked dejected, but didn’t pursue the subject. I was so surprised I didn’t know what to say. We cleared away dinner and cleaned up his kitchen, then he took me home.
Most of that night I lay awake pondering his proposal. I had been married to an extraordinary man once. But Mel was wonderful, too. Was it possible to marry two extraordinary men in one lifetime?
The next morning, he called. “Last night I asked you to marry me and you said probably. How about a more definite answer,” he urged. “Like yes?”
“But . . . what about our agreement?”
“Let’s just forget it.”
“Forget what?” I smiled into the phone, tingling with excitement.
“Let’s fly to England for our honeymoon and never say never again.”
Sally Kelly-Engeman
3
THE PERFECT
DRESS
W hat is a princess on this day without the garnish where beauty lay?
Gina Romanello
After having to wear hideous bridesmaid’s outfits at the weddings of her two closest friends, Donna welcomed the opportunity to carry out her revenge.
CLOSE TO HOME © John McPherson. Reprinted by permission of UNIVERSAL PRESS SYNDICATE. All rights reserved.
She Did It Her Way
T he best and most beautiful things in the world cannot be seen or even touched. They must be felt with the heart.
Helen Keller
“Mom, we’re getting married . . . sometime in June.” This from my hippie daughter calling on a pay phone in Maine. (No phone or electricity at her house—or perhaps cabin is a better word.)
“We don’t want a fancy wedding or dressy clothes or a lot of guests. We just want to be married in your backyard. I’ll let you know the
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