A Valentine’s Day Surprise
A long-married woman discovers romance in unexpected packaging.
Janie took a last look at her pile of Valentine’s Day cards and shoved them into the bottom of her tote. After climbing into her car, she placed the bag on the passenger seat, and stared out the windshield at the gritty snow bank in the parking lot of the Waitsfield Elementary School. She gnawed on her lip, trying to balance her murky mood against the flashback images of her adorable students walking forward to her desk, holding out their precious cards, and murmuring ‘thank’ you or ‘have a happy day.’ With each big hug she gave them, Janie’s heart had sunk a little lower.
She knew why. It was Bill. Since he was the only florist in the Valley, he was crazy busy on February 14th. There were shoppers all day, and always the last-minute clients with their “just a dozen red roses” at 4:45 p.m. But Bill always stayed calm. His thick, dark hair never ruffled. His broad smile soothed even the most demanding. If he was out of roses, he found something that would work. Coleus house plants with vibrant red leaves, or simple red carnations surrounded by Gerbera daisies and greens. He was good with plants and people.
For every year of their 15-year marriage, Bill had presented Janie with a single perfect red rose first thing on Valentine’s Day morning. It was a simple, romantic gesture that made her feel loved. His routine, the comfort of the predictability, the stability was a gift of action, not just words that could evaporate. It was something she could hold on to and looked forward to each year.
But there was no rose this morning, and no mention of it or of Valentine’s Day at all. Bill merely filled his coffee travel mug and left for the store.
Janie put the car into gear and drove to Mehuron’s grocery store to get dinner supplies. Outside the store, the Rotary Club was holding a Valentine’s Day raffle. Inside the store were posters for candy specials and a rack of heart-shaped pink cards. Janie took off her red hat and scarf and shoved them into her purse. She wanted to be done with Valentine’s Day this year.
As she wandered the aisles, shopping list in hand, her eyes misted and she blinked to keep the tears inside. Maybe Bill had been a little distant lately. Did he kiss her goodbye this morning? She couldn’t remember. Maybe after fifteen years, he didn’t love her as much. Stopping in front of the ice cream refrigerator, she peered inside. When was the last time he surprised her with her favorite Moose Tracks?
Her eyes closed and she leaned her slight frame against the refrigerator door as her body shook with a terrible, familiar anxiety. Her heart thumped so loudly she wondered if anyone could hear it. A thin sheen of sweat broke out along her blond hairline. It wasn’t the worst panic attack. She could ride it out. Deep breaths, visualize calm. She shouldn’t get so upset over forgotten flowers. But fifteen years…
“Janie? Is that you? Are you OK?”
Janie’s eyes popped open to find a short brunette in front of her. The woman placed her hand on her chest. “It’s me, it’s Mirabella. From high school.”
Janie squinted at the attractive woman in front of her wearing a fur-lined hooded ski jacket and a slash of bright pink lipstick. Janie licked her own lips, dry and chapped and bare of color unless you counted the chapstick she’d applied in the car. She stood up straighter and willed energy into her voice. “It’s been years. Italian class, right? You were always winning the awards.”
“Yes, I always sat behind you. How I envied your long, straight hair. I see you still have it,” Mira said, fluffing up her stylish cut. “Don’t tell me you still live here?”
Janie thought. How am I? How do I answer that? Expressing her worries would only cement them. She plowed forward with the positives. “I teach the cutest class of third graders, Bill Ryan and I are married almost fifteen years now, and I love living in this Valley.”
“You and Billy Ryan? That’s so sweet. And he was a pretty good kisser, if I remember.” Mira winked at her.
Confusion showed in Janie’s eyes.
“Don’t you remember? He was my date to the junior prom. Imagine that, the two of you married. Well, I guess life throws surprises, doesn’t it?”
Mira prattled on for a few more minutes, talking about her kids, her job, her latest trip to Palm Springs. Janie did her best to feign social interest, all while feeling like this was a competition she was losing.
Mira reached into her purse. “I have to run, and I know it’s old-fashioned, but here’s my business card. We’re looking for a second house up here in the Valley, something for skiing if you know of anything coming on the market. Find me! Ciao!”
Mira waved and moved away, trailing perfume fumes behind her. Janie pushed herself off the glass refrigerator door and headed to the check out, determined to get out of the store as fast as possible. Could this day get any worse?
As she pulled into the driveway, her phone buzzed with a text from Bill.
Sorry, hon. Going to be late. Eat without me.
That was it. She leaned her head against the steering wheel. Bill was never late for dinner. He vowed to her when they were just-marrieds that she would never have to eat alone. And now he was breaking that promise. On Valentine’s Day. Her body shook again. This time, she wouldn’t be able to escape the demons.
He was having an affair. No flowers this morning. No spontaneous ice cream. Now he was standing her up for Valentine’s Day dinner. This was bad. Maybe there were other signs she missed? Dread gelled like slow glue in her veins, dripping into her eyelids, her arms, her feet.
The sky darkened and the car grew cold as she sat in the car cataloging her own inadequacies. It was her fault. She hadn’t appreciated Bill enough. Her thighs were too large. Her job–too small. And no lipstick. Maybe he should have married Mira.
She tried to talk some sense into herself, to stay calm, to stop the spiral. Things weren’t all bad. They cross-country skied on blue sky days together. The house got managed and the books for the business got balanced. Was that enough? But she only owned one lacy bra, and she hadn’t seen that in a long time. And their last date night? Who knew when that was.
The dread of being alone. Tears blurred her vision. How could she manage? Maybe she’d get a dog. Or a cat. But she was allergic to anything with fur. Maybe a fish? Would a fish be good company? Tears ran down her cheeks and her breathing turned to raspy gulps. Her nose swelled, her brown eyes rimmed red. She didn’t even cry pretty. God damn Bill for abandoning her.
A sweep of headlights and the rattle of the van as it came up the driveway didn’t penetrate her misery. The driver’s seat door swung open and she almost fell out of the car.
“What are you doing in here, Janie? Trouble with the car?” Bill asked. Then he leaned in and saw her face full of red and tears. He put his large hands around her back and pulled her close. “What’s wrong?”
“You’re here. Thank God. Bill. I love you.” She buried her face in his broad chest and dug her hands into his thick hair.
Bill’s deep laugh rumbled against her head. “I love you, too. But what’s going on?”
“Nothing.”
“Not believing that.” He waited.
“I thought you were having an affair.” Janie said in a small voice.
Bill’s eyebrows wrinkled in confusion. “What?” He looked at her closely, felt her core trembling under his hands.
Janie looked into his eyes and tumbled words into the air between them. “Yeah… sorry. Two panics today. But I’m OK. I am.”
He pulled her out of the car and held her close, running his hands down her head, past her thin shoulders, and down her back. “There’s no sorry…”
Her voice was hoarse. “When I didn’t get my flowers today, my mind went haywire. I don’t want to lose you. Ever.”
Bill put his hand gently under her chin and lifted it so her red-rimmed eyes were forced to look into his clear ones. “God, Janie, I’m so sorry. I planned a big surprise for today. I thought you might be tired of the same old flowers.”
She tried to smile.
He leaned in to kiss her gently. “Come on, let’s go inside.” Bill led Janie inside the house and into the mudroom. “Wait right here. I’ll be right back.”
The warmth of the house enveloped her as she settled on the wooden bench. Her breath slowed, her pulse quieted, and she wiped away her tears. The dread receded in the light.
“Close your eyes,” Bill yelled from the other side of the wooden door.
The door open with a creak. It always stuck a little in the frame. A small set of noises she couldn’t identify got louder. Squeaking sounds.
“Put your hands out,” Bill said. “But keep your eyes closed.”
Into her open hands, he placed a box made of rough cardboard. An alive, shifting box she had to adjust to keep level. The sounds were clearer now, more distinct. Her eyes flew open, and she peered into the box. It held five fluffy yellow baby chicks, two racing around in the fresh sawdust and three huddling together.
Janie’s eyes teared again as she looked at Bill.
Bill smiled his broad grin. “I’ve seen you coveting them at Kenyons. I had to wait to pick them up after the last deliveries. They still need a heating lamp.”
Janie placed the box next to her on the bench and picked up a fragile chick. It warmed her palm, and she stroked the head gently with a single index finger. “Hi, little guy. Or girl.” She looked up at Bill, towering above her. “This might be a lot of work.”
“Yup. Feeding, watering, eventually hatching. Things to take care of. You’ll be busy worrying about them.”
Janie gently placed the little chick back in the box. She stood and raised up on her toes, took Bill’s hands in hers, and poured all her love into a kiss on his left cheek, then his right, then fully on his waiting lips. She wanted him to feel as loved as he made her feel. The day had drained her, to be sure. But here, now, kissing her Bill, all the dread, fear, and Miras of the world dissolved. Her new chicks peeped, her house was warm, and she and Bill were together. Despite all her tears, this Valentine’s Day had turned out to be the best one of all.