It came in the morning mail. She wasn't expecting it, and the sight of the familiar handwriting with its bold, strong thrusts took her her breath away. How long ago was it that it had happened? And what exactly had happened? She thought she had put it out of her mind, and now this. She sat down on the nearest chair and
Immobilized with shock, and ignoring the pain of the tacks in her a**, with shaking hands she began opening the envelope. At that very moment her ADLO walked into the room, asking . . . .
'i want to go HOME!"-again. without showing her obvious pain, Lydia limped over to her DH and said. 'later'. right now i have to deal with this envelope! she was hoping it contained the good news she has been waiting for. weeks upon weeks checking the mail day in day out. no envelope -then finally! shaking hand, throbbing a** she carefully unseals the envelope and almost gets it opened then hears a rukus so loud she has to scream out and limp over to see what has happened. the envelope acidentally dropped into the trash can as she scuttles off to see and there in front of her eyes.!
is a large squirrel, angrily shrieking and pounding on the window. She has forgotten to put out the snacks she usually sets out for "her" little wild pet!
Cursing, Lydia heads to the kitchen to get a piece of cornbread to throw out to the squirrel, and discovers that not ALL of the tacks fell on the chair. Too bad she was in such a hurry to get the mail that she went barefoot! The agony in her right foot reminds her of WHY she was in such a hurry. She whirls around -- the mail ! ! ! Oops, her left foot finds yet another tack. Where was she? Oh yes -- the mail ! ! ! The envelope she has awaited eagerly for so long ! But where is it?
good news! after frantically looking for the envelope lydia discovers the trash bin and retrieves the long lost letter. opening it shes sees that its from ...........
"You may already have won!" But, what? A contest winner, but she must send $19.95 to collect her winnings; what can she do; she can't get to the post office for a stamp; the deadline is tomorrow...
Feeling certain her ship has finally come in, she rounds up her faithful dog Bennie - who is not so overweight he can't move quickly - attaches a dollar and note to his collar, and sends him out the door and down the block to the post office, where . . .
But then she remembers that she recognized the handwriting, so she must have gotten the wrong envelope out of the trash can. She limped back and leaned over and found the right envelope. She knew she couldn't read it in front of Preston, so she limped into the kitchen and leaned against the counter (she was afraid to sit down). She slowly pulled out the letter, remembering those bold strokes from years ago, and began to read.
When she finished the letter, she began to cry, for the writer, as well as for herself. The letter contained such sad news. The boyfriend from college had written to tell her that he had lost...
that this was the same young dashing man that she fell in love with so many yrs ago. she was coming to her town to visit and needed desperately to see her, knowing she has a husband now but needs to tell her something hes held back all these years... she remembers those steamy drive in movies/ the poodle skirts, the necking in the back seat of the 52 ford... and
that there were many blond starlets who were anxious to date an older, yet still dashing man who had big bucks. He had gone so far as to marry one of them, but tragically she fell into the shark pool on the cruise ship on their honeymoon. Now he had an urgent question for her....
could it be that his wife was suicidal, having spent those few nights of passion with him? Anyway, he was coming to her town and wanted to ask her about....
lydia woke up with a jolt. my gosh, it wasnt real, he wasnt coming to rescue me! sob sob! its all been a dream... must be that ambien i have been taking... sigh..
'yes phranque dear, lydia said as she rolled herself out of bed to start the tedious days work ahead. your lawnmower is out in the garage.. be careful today! " remember not to roll over your foot!" END/
It came in the morning mail. She wasn't expecting it, and the sight of the familiar handwriting with its bold, strong thrusts took her her breath away. How long ago was it that it had happened? And what exactly had happened? She thought she had put it out of her mind, and now this. She sat down on the nearest chair and
wondered again about that strange happening from her youth. So many years ago, and yet so fresh in her mind. But still, after all these years, she was not REALLY sure exactly what happened. She felt dizzy as she recalled how it had started.....
Her college professor was Asian, and to get his attention, she wore makeup to try to make her eyes look Asian. But to no avail. He simply wanted to try to encourage her to use proper grammar. He recommended a course in transformational grammar, which of course, didn't interest her at all. It was Dr. Lee who was interesting to her. What could she do?
He had a British accent. Not surprising, since he was a native of Hong Kong, and had done his graduate work at Oxford. His short but muscular body showed the effect not only of the weightlifting he had done back in his days preparing for the Olympic wrestling trials, but the summers he had spent on archaeological digs, moving heavy stones in Latin American jungles to reveal hidden ancient Inca and Mayan structures. Just how had he become so interested in the work of a 19th-century British woman romantic novelist? Did the heart of a romantic beat beneath that deeply muscled chest?
Lydia decided that since trying to appear Asian hadn't piqued the interest of Dr. Lee, perhaps she should try to imitate a British woman - but whom? A novelist, a poet, a character from one of his beloved books, someone from the royal family? Whom?
Dr. Lee had so many attributes. Lydia was starting to feel inadequate and insecure. Would she ever live up to his expectations? Princess Diana seemed someone worthy of emulation. She couldn't change her accent, but certainly she could change her demeanor.
No No No-a mysterious Russian woman of royal rank. Tragic eyes hinting of how all of her family's great wealth had been squandered on feeding the royal squirrels.
Lydia awoke and realized she had been reading a story written by numerous authors together rather than Jane Austen that she was to discuss with her professor. She quickly dressed and grabbed her Jane Austen book and headed for Dr. Lee's office, ready to discuss the book, and hopefully not to spend a lot more time daydreaming!
"But that was in another country and besides the wench is dead." That's a quote from some mystery novel, and I wish I could work it in here, but I can't. Ol Don has brought in his brilliance again, but we can't let him slow us down. So it's back to the mysterious Russian woman of royal rank and formidable smarts, who is known to favour Soma bras. Lydia might try to copy her style, but she can't - the Russian is an original. She could try to throw in a couple of y'alls and "Missy Marys", but better she should concentrate on what she's got going on. I suggest that she be more forthright: invite Dr. Lee to a poetry reading; there must be one going on somewhere on campus.
Lydia ran across campus, hoping Dr. Lee's office hours wouldn't end before she got to the Humanities building. She glanced over at the large clock in the Chapel tower. Five minutes to four ! ! ! She just had time to make it to his office. Suddenly, it felt like she had hit a brick wall. Down to the ground she tumbled, her arms and legs entangled with those of another. Stunned, she glanced at this... this person who had collided with her. Tall, blond, muscular... and a sweet, sheepish expression on his handsome face. She looked at him, and realized she was going to be too late to talk to Dr. Lee. "Frank Lee, my dear, I don't give a damn!" she thought.
"Are you all right?" he asked, helping her to his feet. "Well, I do feel a little dizzy," she said , wishing she'd worn her Soma bra. "There's a bench here. Sit down for minute." As soon as she was seated, he helped gather up her books. "Jane Austen, eh?" he said "He must be a Canadian," she thought. "I won't hold it against him. Some of my best friend are Canadian.'' He sat down beside her, his thigh warm against hers.
"Do you like Jane Austen?" aksed Lydia. "Well," he replied in his deep Canadian voice. " I read Pride and Prejudice in high school and thought it was the most boring thing I'd ever read." "Oh..." responded Lydia. "What do you like to read? And, by the way, I'm Lydia."
He answered, "I'm James, and I like to read . . ."
"...articles about electrical engineering. Or if I'm in the mood for light reading, I'll pull out my trusty copy of Ulysses." As Lydia looked at him in horror, he couldn't keep a straight face any longer. He burst out laughing, the adorable cleft in his chin deepening, and said, "I had you going there for a second. No, what I actually like to do in my free time is...."
"Children's stories. 'Wind in the Willows' is my favourite." Lydia inched away. "I teach Children's Literature," he said. Lydia inched back. "I just hated Toad," she said. "Him and his fancy car. Was it red?"
Why yes, i do believe it was red, just like my ferrari i have parked over there in the vip space. by the way, i am 'Henry Lee', adopted son of Frank Lee, i believe you know him?? Lydia cringed, thinking my gosh, i like the adopted son better! Henry coyly said throwing his hand across his blonde lock and squinting into the sunshine, 'can i give you a lift? we could stop for an iced frappuchino?? Sure, why not,? she said. just as Henry turned around she was shocked at what she saw ...
....a vanity plate on the Ferrari that said "James."
"Wait a minute," she thought, "when we were sitting on the bench he said his name was James, but he just called himself 'Henry.' What's going on here? Is he a dangerous imposter, like that Peter Pepper they just arrested this morning?"