Anywhere In Time

The snow was falling softly blanketing the trees bushes and streets with pristine white. The snow sparkled with millions of diamonds.

Meg walked along the sidewalk slowly, savoring the beauty of this first snow. She was so happy she chose to move to this quaint town. Everyone seemed friendly and exuded southern charm. It was small enough for people to recognize one another, but large enough to have a art district, lovely restaurants, boutiques, antique shops and plenty of museums. A new mall at the edge of town drew people from smaller surrounding areas.

 A river ran through the town adding to its charm. River boats carrying tourists helped the financial stability of town shops. Barges moved goods up and down the river, providing jobs and cash flow to the community.

Older families traced their ancestry to before the civil war. Springdale was one of the last towns to surrender to Grant and the rest of those damned Yankees.

Meg smiled. She was one of those damned Yankees having been born in Minnesota. Scandinavian lineage helped her look much younger than her sixty years. Wrinkle free skin and eyes as blue as the Minnesota sky enhanced by pixie cut light auburn hair that was her crowning glory. Under a high forehead scattered freckles covered her nose and full lips naturally red were gifts from her fathers features.

Meg’s parents were brilliant and highly educated, her father a professor and her mother a mathematician. All eight children learned how to use their minds and hands, taking care of the home, land, and animals. Boys and girls alike had responsibilities and were expected to do their share of chores.

Meg was well educated, reading from a very early age. Books and magazines in every room roused discussions at the dinner table about history, archeology, current events, scientific breakthroughs, and many other subjects too numerous to mention, except politics and religion respect for others beliefs. Meg always had a love of learning new things.

Meg grew up, went to University, married a young man and had three children. Life went along well for many years until her husband decided his much younger secretary had more to offer than Meg. With the children grown, Meg decided the humiliation of a wayward husband, along with his constant foul fault finding temper was not what she wanted in a husband. After thirty-five years it was time to go.

Meg packed a UHaul truck with her belongings, and towing her car behind it, headed south to Summerdale where her son lived.

Meg’s children supported her move. Her husband cheated her out of assets, money, and even her share of the house. Over time, things didn’t work out for him and the secretary. They didn’t marry and he lost the love and respect of much of his family.

Their son owned several businesses and offered her a good management job and stable income. Thus, here she was in Springdale.

Meg bought a small brick home and completely renovated it down to landscaping and a white picket fence. She busily settled into her new life.    

In spring the town was fraigrantly awash with blooming trees, shrubs, and flowers. Everyone seemed to have a no hurry laid back attitude. Meg loved wandering the surrounding scenic areas and fascinated with the wonderful restaurants and antique shops. The town felt familiar, like she lived there in another lifetime.

Meg settled into her management job feeling right at home. She made friends quickly. On Sunday’s she went to church and added spiritual family to the mix.

One day a strapping man came into her son’s store. He seemed to know everyone, stopping with each one to chat.

Looking at her he said, “You are new here, aren’t you? I’m Tom Preston. I own the woodworking shop down the street. I do some carving in my spare time, too. I love antiques, archeology, and I knap flint. I’m a young forty years old and never been married. I’ve always liked intelligent self sufficient gals. No barbie doll or high maintenance women for me." He paused and added, "And I hate skinny women.”

Meg was somewhat taken aback. It was definitely to much information for a first encounter.

Tom continued, “I know you are new, because I know everyone in town. You talk like a Yankee, but I won’t hold that against you because I sure like your red hair, and you are kinda cute in a pixie sort of way. Bet you got a temper to go with it,” he laughed.

She replied, “I’m Meg Walker. I just moved from Minnesota and bought house on the south side. This is my son’s store. I’m the new manager.”

“Hell’s bells. Ben is your son? You don’t look old enough to be Ben’s mom.” With a twinkle in his eye he added, “you look more like his sister than his mother. It was nice to meet you.” With that remark he left as abruptly as he appeared.

“Goodness.” It was all Meg could say as a few of the employees gathered around.

Tony, who had worked there for a few years spoke up. “Don’t let that country boy talk of his fool you. Tom’s a talented artist and sharp as a tack. Would give you the shirt off his back.”

The next day, Meg arrived at work and barely set her purse down when Tom walked in the door. “Morning Mama. I brought you some coffee, cream and sugar, and donuts from the best donut place in the south. I hope you are not one of those who are afraid to add to your backside. By the way, you have a nice backside if you don’t mind me saying.” With that, he strode out the door.

‘What a strange man,’ Meg thought to herself. Every day after that he would stop by. He found they both had a love of knowledge and loved to talk about any of the various subjects he read and heard about, including his favorite BBC comedies.

It didn’t take them long to find their mutual passion for words. Every day he would bring a new word to challenge her. It reminded her of the games her family played when she was young. Unable to stump her, he told her one day that if she knew tomorrow’s word he would treat her to his favorite burger joint. Meg knew the word and after work she found him outside leaning on his truck waiting for her.

At the restaurant he introduced her to the owner, Ray, and told him to fix her up with his best. It was the juiciest and largest burger she ever had. They talked and laughed. When he dropped her at her car she acknowledged he was right about the burgers.

“Hey, girlie,” he asked, “Do you like to dance?

“I’m a dancing fool,” Meg said with a smile.

“Me, too,” he said and drove off.

After that he showed up almost every day with a new offer of the best ever. Waffles, pancakes, chicken, and even fried bologna sandwiches. And he was always right. Every place was unique and delicious, everything enjoyed with laughter and incredibly intelligent conversation.

By this time he had her phone number, and in the evening he would text her about what he was watching or tell her to turn on to a channel with programs she might want to see.

When he got her address Meg would find wood carvings of animals, birds, and butterflies. He took her to lunch, dinner, and wonderful adventures on weekends. One Sunday he showed up at church and slid into the pew next to her.

She was shocked and saw her friends at the church were too. Meg always came alone. It didn’t take them long to start asking about their relationship, eventually asking her embarrassing personal questions. Telling them he was just a friend, that there was no romance between them did little to stop speculation.

First the church people, then even her son mentioned that people were talking at the store. Employees had begun to think of them as a couple.

‘I’m old enough to be his mother,’ Meg thought. ‘I’m going to have to put a stop to this.’

Finally Meg found the right moment to broach the subject when he was dropping her off from a very nice dinner. “Tom, my friend, everyone is talking about us. Everyone thinks we are having an affair. You are my son’s age you know. You really should find a nice young woman to date, start a family of your own. It’s reached the point that many think the time we spend together is inappropriate, even my son.”

“What the hell do you care what people think?” he said raising his voice. “We love to do the same things, we always have fun and are happy. What’s wrong with that?”

“Well, it’s being said I’m acting like a cougar, or asked if I’m your Mama. I would never want to embarrass you.”

“You couldn’t embarrass me if you tried,” he said angrily. “I don’t care what anyone thinks. I love you. Meg, you are the best thing that has ever happened to me. I don’t care about our age difference. You are intelligent and know so much about things I love. I want to marry you. What we feel inside has nothing to do with age.”

“But, Tom, think about it. By the time you are sixty, I will be eighty. We could never have children and I know how much you adore them. You would be giving up some of the best parts of life. If we were the same age it would be perfect, but somewhere in time we were placed on different age plains. There is nothing we can do about it.” Meg climbed out of his truck and paused. Finally she said, “I care about you, but I think you need someone your own age to hang out with.”

A broken heart was on his face as she turned and went into the house.

After that he didn’t come into the store anymore. Meg missed him, his smile, and the fun word games they played. Time was suddenly available to do all the things she had been putting off and she found ways to keep busy. More than one noticed his absence, too, but didn’t say a word to her or ask about him.

 One rainy Saturday morning there was a knock at the door. Tom was soaked, standing there with a laundry basket under each arm.

“My washer is on the fritz. Would you mind doing a couple of loads for me?” He asked.

“Of course I don't mind,” she replied trying not to look to happy about seeing him again. “Come in before you catch a cold. Want some coffee?” She asked.

He nodded his answer and was silent as she poured him a cup. They both tried to make small talk, but the were ill at ease with one another. Tom left after he finished his coffee without really saying much.

Meg washed, dried, folded, and ironed things as needed for him. Favorite items had a soft worn feel to them and brought so many memories of the time they spent together.

Chiding herself for being a silly woman, she put the baskets in her car and sent him a text that he could stop by when the store was going to close to pick them up. The weather had improved, but despite the sunny day, the air had turned cold. Meg suspected the approaching New Year would be covered with frost.

When Tom didn’t show up, Meg decided to leave and was surprised to see Tom’s car in the parking lot beside a sporty red car. He was talking to a pretty young woman. They were in the midst of an animated conversation, smiling and laughing. She put her hand on his arm in a familiar fashion, hugged him, laying her head briefly on his shoulder, then left as Tom watched her drive away.

Walking over to Meg, he casually asked, “Hey, get my laundry done?”

Taking the baskets out of the car she plopped them at his feet. She took the shirts she so carefully ironed and hung out of the car seat and threw them at him.

“Why don’t you let your lady friend do them for you?” Meg barked at him with a mixture of unexpected anger and irritation.

 She was surprised when he didn’t get angry in turn, but turned to her with a huge grin as he picked up the shirts.

“That ‘her’ is my cousin Debbie. I’ll be damned if your not jealous. That means you do love me. You love me, Meg. Say it isn’t so.”

Meg jumped into her car driving home faster than was necessary. Amazed at her own reaction, she was embarrassed and angry at herself for letting him see her so emotional.

A short time later he was at her door. She knew his knock anywhere.

He was quick to get to the point. “We have to talk,” he said with a soft voice.

Moving aside to let him in, Tom started talking before he was over the threshold. “I love you and want to marry you. I know it would be ideal if we were the same age, but we are not. I have been searching for you all my life. I’ve found you and I won’t let you go. I want your answer and I will give you till New Years. I want a yes or no if you will marry me. If you say no, I won’t bother you anymore.”

Tom paused and looked her up and down. “You owe me that. And a dance.” With that he abruptly left, leaving her standing there without having a chance to say anything.

Meg stewed going through a series of emotions. Cleaning and scrubbing everything, dusting, and even washing windows, she tried to tell herself not to care what anyone thought if she did, then a minute later was sure it was not the right thing for him being with someone twenty years his senior, angry at the universe for such a cruel joke.

Finally getting ready for bed, she prayed. “If there is any magic left in the world, I need some. I want what everyone says I shouldn’t, but it feels right. I want a new life. I want the time to enjoy it for the rest of my life. If you can hear me, please, please, please, I need a sign.”

Meg fell asleep.

At some point she became aware that she was already at a New Years Dance. Everyone was in 1920’s attire. Women were in sparkling flapper dresses with matching feathered beaded headbands. Men wore suits, striped jackets with wide lapels vests and ties. Amazing jazz music filled the room from a ensemble in the corner under a banner that said, “Happy New Year 1920”.

Across the room strode a tall handsome man, walking straight to her. When he got close there was no mistaking those intense eyes, that familiar smile. They were different, but the same. It was definitely Tom.

“You owe me a dance. I’ve come to collect,” he said with a grin and before she knew it she was floating in his arms. They waltzed past the wall of mirrors and Meg was stunned to see herself.   

  The most beautiful dress she could imagine floated around her with long fringe and lace. But it was her face that caught her attention. She was young again. And beautiful. Meg didn’t know how, but somehow, she was in Tom’s arms and no one seemed to notice anything or even glance their way. It was almost as if the whole world melted away to leave the two of them alone, moving together as one.

Pulling her close, Tom whispered in her ear, “I would know you anywhere in time. My angel, my love. Will you at last consent to marry me?”

“Yes,” she softly answered. “Yes, yes, yes.”