Jane Austen observed well that,
“A lady’s imagination is very rapid; it jumps from admiration to love, from love to matrimony in a moment.”
I could plead none otherwise than guilty to this charge, and it was well reflected in my writing at the time. You see, he did in fact, not tell me his thoughts, and for an impatient girl, this waiting and wondering seemed to stretch for miles. I suppose it did. 1200 in fact. So I rallied and argued with myself, telling myself that “JBW is not the only fish in the sea”. That he’s not expressed any intention or wish other than ‘keeping up’ and ‘getting to know me’. I reasoned in fits on pages of my journal that “We’re not engaged…we’re not even in a relationship, really… Besides that, a person is not truly committed until they’ve said the oaths, taken the vows.” And I reminded myself of what I’d resolved many months earlier, before he was on the scene:
“I’m waiting for a man who’ll dig some spurs into the side of his Relationship Steed. Someone that knows what he wants and will go get it without being a wimpy whiner who worries over everything, can’t make up his mind and mosies along the lazy path of Indecision. Doesn’t mean he doesn’t seek/listen to/ heed good counsel, but that he’s willing to take it and run with it.
Well, maybe that’s JB and maybe it’s not. I’m happy to be his friend. Maybe one day more than that. But until that wedding band is on my finger there’s nothing that says Things Won’t Change and that some other guys or gal could step into the lives and affections of either one. I like John. Could like him a lot. I’ve said it before; I say it again. I’ve got a wild heart and a passionate one and the man who wins it over completely will be one I’d like to meet.
Saturday, January 25, 2014
Daddy just put a log of cedar on the fire. One of the logs we cut this morning. Daddy, Chris, Max, Merry and I went to Clyde and Sherri’s today. Poor Abrum, he wanted to go. Mama brought balloons and lovely decorations. We’re all waiting now for Max and Merry to come back. Max is off (we think) to propose to Merry at Charlie Elliot. Daddy grilled steaks and Mama’s baking cheese cakes. Daddy will miss her terribly I think. How strange. Little Merria, off to get married out of all us girls. We’re hoping he actually WILL propose, because if not, all our signs and decorations and the special meal will be hard out of place.
John sent two letters this week. I must admit that when I found his letter today there was a huge smile all over my face. I said to that letter,
“Well, John, you do get some bonus points, my good man. Some points indeed!” He’s sent two post cards last week and this, but today was the first real letter.
January 28, 2014
P.S. There was no one else in sight as he walked up to the wall of mailboxes ( the one about a hundred paces from his flat, over by the laundry room), on a partially cloudy Saturday afternoon. He opened his box and pulled out an envelope. “Wow, that’s amazing,” he said aloud as his eyes fell across the exquisite penmanship on the front, with a quick glance at the postmark to confirm his suspicion. It was from her.”
Now if that won’t flutter the stomach and make it nearly fly away, I don’t know what will.
Wednesday, February 5, 2014
Yesterday morning Daddy prayed for our breakfast – his and mine. He said, “And Lord, you know whether it’s your will for Gabrielle and John Watson to continue talking and I ask that if it IS your will for them to be together that you’d help John to kick this thing into high gear…”
I don’t know where that came from. Daddy IS a pro-active sort of fellow, and maybe he was just in a high – gear praying sort of mood, but I had to smile and agree with him.
Friday, February 7, 2014
Mel came up the driveway with letters in her hand. She sat on the porch and my heart dropped because I knew there wasn’t one for me, for she neither looked up nor handed me anything. But oh – I felt a little pool of hope well up again, though I tried to keep it from coming up at all (dashed hopes are so much more unpleasant than hopes caught unawares). I saw that Milly had only retrieved the checks from Clyde and Sherri – the mail was still to come, and my chance of a letter was still there. It did come and my eyes couldn’t see fast enough to detect all the names until finally the one I was hoping for was found. There it lay, innocently provoking smile after smile and happy little exclamations of “Oh, John – JB, you Watson, you dear fellow. Look at this! My, my, so you did write after all, eh?” And all the while I was beaming. Could hardly see out of my eyes, they were smiling so hard.
And what did it say? He wants to come.