After that magical
night at the
Pasta House, Helen and I were inseparable. We
went to the movies, had dinner dates, dancing at clubs, played
miniature golf, went hiking and picnicked with her two
young boys. Other times we would just spend a leisurely
afternoon entertaining ourselves with a Frisbee or flying kites.
One weekend all of
us went to the
Long Beach Pike, an amusement center on
the boardwalk. We played in the arcade games. Helen and I took
pictures in a photo booth. To this day I only have one photo of that
fun-filled day. That was my life, a blissful pattern of family
activities.
However, after close
to two years of dating, Helen expected more. She wanted a commitment. As much as I loved her, I felt I wasn't ready for
marriage. We amicably ended our relationship.
Yet, as much as I
tried, it was a love I could not forget. Her cards and letters kept
coming frequently. I didn't respond until one day a short "Dear
John" letter arrived. She wrote that a co-worker
who had been interested in her for several years, had proposed to
her! She had been dating him since our break up. It had been three months and I thought that was very fast. "Loved
ones can be stolen." I had read that in an essay. And this guy
was the one just about to do it.
I called her. "We
need to talk," I said. I suggested we get together for dinner.
She agreed. I told her I would call her back once I had the
reservations. But I had no idea where to take her. I ended up talking
to one of the same fellows from the group I went out with the night I
met Helen. I was, of course, a bit leery I would get a bum
steer—another practical joke. He assured me it was not the case. He
told me he wanted us back together. He recommended a restaurant
called the Chart House in Malibu. It was over an hour away. Despite
his reassurances, I still worried it might be another prank.
But once I called
the restaurant for reservations, I knew it wasn't a trick. The place
existed. The person on the line said that they have a “jacket
required” dress code. That wasn't a problem so I made the
reservations. I called Helen and told her it
was a "dressy dress" place and that I would be wearing
black slacks, a light blue shirt, a tie and a sport-coat. I arrived at her house in the late afternoon. When she
opened the door, I was completely stunned. She wore a revealing black dress. She looked lovely.
We drove to Malibu
chatting as if we hadn't ever been apart. Neither one of us brought
up that pending proposal. But I knew at the restaurant we were going
to talk about it. We knew each other well enough to know that at the
moment we were deferring that conversation for our dinner table talk.
We were pleasantly surprised to find the restaurant situated next to a pier with sweeping ocean views. We stepped inside. I
gave the hostess my name and she escorted us to our table. Each table
was draped with beautiful white linen table cloth and the chairs were
exquisitely upholstered in tan decor. The restaurant was completely
surrounded by floor to ceiling bay windows. Although we didn't have a
window seat, from our center table the panoramic view was still
impressive.
We looked at the
menu and I decided to order a bottle of wine. The tuxedoed waiter
arrived with the wine bottle. He showed me the label and pronounced
the name of what I ordered. I nodded in approval not knowing what
to say as this was all new to me. He uncorked the wine and poured it
into a glass and then handed it to me. I took it and in one swift
movement, I downed it like a shot of whiskey. I saw his surprised
face. Oops! That was certainly a major "faux pas." I mumbled it was good wine. He turned and
left the bottle in a bucket along with two glasses.
I looked at Helen's
face. She was amused, shaking her head. I said to her, "I guess
I wasn't supposed to do that!" She just smiled and said "No
you weren't. But don't worry about it." That was just like her.
Her voice was tender, not reproachful. She did not make me feel like
an utter fool. I could only imagine what the waiter was telling his
co-workers in the kitchen about me. But with Helen reassuring me that
all was OK, that thought escaped me as quickly as it had entered.
At long last, the
moment arrived. The food was great. We sat there comfortably in each
other's company waiting for dessert. I finally broached the subject
of the "proposal." She explained that her suitor was 12
years her senior. "He's always shown an interest in me, but was
respectful as he knew I was dating you," she said. "One day he noticed I
was sad and I told him we had broken up. He started talking to me and
asked me out and we started dating."
I felt a sharp pang of jealousy.
"He's a quality control inspector at the plant," she continued. The thought
immediately entered my mind that he was always at her work station a
bit longer than what was required. But honestly, could I blame him? I
didn't share my thoughts with her.
She said she was considering marrying him for security and stability.
"He told me he was going to inherit a ranch in Fresno. He invited me so I
spent the weekend at his ranch." I had a sinking feeling in my
stomach. She sensed my discomfort. But before I could say a word, she
said, "Don't worry.
Nothing happened. I took the boys with me."
I nodded. She
continued talking about the ranch.
I finally asked her,
"Do you love him?" She cast her head down. There was a
long pause, a trace of apprehension on my part. But before she could
utter a word, I said, "I guess that answers my question."
She raised her head and I could see her teary eyes. She
met my eyes and said softly, "No, I love you." I wanted to kiss her. Instead, I reached across
the table and held her hands. After paying the check, I took her
outside.
The restaurant had a railed wooden walkway. Holding hands we
saw the sun
setting in the ocean, a bright orange ball in the horizon. The motion of
the waves and the sound they made striking the shore added to the
scene. It was
majestic. "Doesn't that look beautiful?" I asked.
"Yes, it is very beautiful," she said. I then pulled her towards
me and we embraced. I whispered in her ear, "I missed you so
much." And before she could reply I said, " I love you Helen. I will never leave you again. Will you marry me?"
Her eyes welled up. "Yes," she replied. "I will." We kissed. I don't know how long we
stood there in each other's arms, but we were both tearfully happy.
We married in December 1978 and were together for 42 years until Helen died in December 2020.
I am forever thankful the love of my life was not stolen.
****
Note: A shorter version was featured on the Feb 12th edition of the SW Washington newspaper "The Columbian."
https://www.columbian.com/news/2023/feb/12/everybody-has-a-story-a-love-that-could-not-be-forgotten/