CHAPTER 31 - SIMPLE GIFTS

            After breakfast, we cleared away the dishes and decided to run a few errands, one of which was a stop at the grocery store for a week's worth of provisions. "I'll hunt, you gather," Michael said as he disentangled a cart from the collection in the entryway and passed it to me.

            I gave the cart a test push, noting happily that all four of its wheels seemed content to travel in the same direction at the same time. "I think this one will do. Lead on, Macduff."

            Michael stopped and looked back at me. "You do know, don't you, that Macbeth actually said, ‘Lay on, Macduff'?"

            "Yes, Professor," I replied as I smiled and rolled my eyes. "I also know that the rest of the line is, ‘And damn'd be him that first cries, 'Hold, enough!' I even know that Hamlet never said, ‘Alas poor Yorick, I knew him well. He said, ‘I knew him, Horatio'." I gestured toward the aisles of merchandise that awaited us and gave him a gentle push. "And it doesn't take a literature major to figure out that you're dawdling. Groceries, Michael?"

            He smiled and replied, "Groceries, Maggie," as he headed in the direction of the fresh produce, while I followed dutifully and collected his selections.

            I looked around me at the other shoppers. They were absorbed in their own business, perusing lists or wandering aimlessly while trying to locate this or that elusive item. If any of them took notice of us at all, they probably assumed that we were just another old married couple out doing our weekly shopping. What would they think if they knew the truth? I wondered as I appreciated the extremely gratifying sight of Michael walking ahead of me in a deliciously snug pair of blue jeans. Fifty-five years old, I mused, and his butt is still a thing of beauty.

            Up and down the aisles we traveled, engaging in playful repartee as we shopped. Quite a few people seemed to have waited to do their shopping on this mild and sunny Saturday morning. There was a long line at the checkout counter, so we took our places to wait patiently behind our groaning cart. The Muzak issuing from the store intercom was interrupted frequently by announcements of not-to-be-missed deals in the Deli Department and punctuated by the steady beep, beep, beep of the cashier's scanner.

            Michael was standing behind me, and he wrapped his arms around my waist, giving an affectionate squeeze as he rested his chin on the top of my head. I covered his arms with my own and gave a reciprocal hug, feeling secure and contented in the circle of his embrace. "You know," he remarked, "you've made a usually odious chore quite pleasant. I don't suppose I could talk you into driving down here every weekend just to keep me company while I do my grocery shopping, could I?"

            I looked back over my shoulder and pursed my lips, pretending to be tempted by the proposition. "Hmm, I might be persuaded. Or, we could alternate weeks," I suggested, "and you could drive up next weekend to help me with my shopping."

            "Now there's a thought," he agreed, leaning down to give me a quick but very tender kiss.

            The girl behind the cash register looked up in time to see us pucker. "Awww, that's so sweet," she gushed, positively beaming in our direction. "How long have you been married?"

            I hemmed and hawed, about to mumble some vague denial, but Michael interrupted me. "We've been soul mates for 30 years," he said, choosing not to disabuse her of the conclusion to which she had so precipitously jumped.

            His declaration gave me a warm, fuzzy feeling, and I allowed myself to consider that prospect. Part of me was savoring the pleasure of something as simple as a trip to the grocery store with Michael, while another part of me was still absolutely astounded by the fact that I was really here with him again after so many years and doing something as simple as grocery shopping.

            By the time we got the groceries home and put away, it was past lunchtime so Michael offered to throw a couple of steaks on the grill. Even though I'm an indifferent cook, and worse than useless in a strange kitchen, he endured my help with his infinite good humor, allowing me to do the grunt work while the master-chef worked his magic.

            I made a salad and set the table, trying to imagine what it might be like to perform these types of mundane chores with Michael every day. I'll have to admit that the prospect of sharing my life with someone else was becoming less intimidating with each passing hour in his company. Like trying on a stranger's coat and discovering that the fit was more comfortable and flattering than I had expected, I was tentatively trying on the idea of being part of couple after having resigned myself to a lifetime of being on my own.

            "If you keep feeding me this way," I predicted after we sat down to eat and I savored the first bite of a steak that nearly melted in my mouth, "I'm going to get as big as a house!"

            "Doesn't matter to me," he replied as he took a taste of his own meal. "I like voluptuous women." He gave me an appraising look. "And you're just a comfortable armful."

            I made a face. "Oh, gee thanks. I wanted angles like a race car, and I got curves like an easy chair."

            "Race cars are fine if you're young and all you want to do is get to the finish line. At my age, I like to enjoy the ride." He gave me a meaningful look across the table. "And the scenery," he added. "Anyway, easy chairs are best place for snuggling on a cold night," he said with a wink. "And they say a cold front's coming. Besides, you've always been able to turn me on."

            I flushed bright red at his double entendres as much as his confession. I never thought of myself as sexually desirable. To anyone.

            Michael laughed. "All these years later and you still blush like the teenager I remember."

            "You know, you make me feel a little like that teenager again," I replied, toying with my salad.

            "Maggie, darlin', when I look at you, it feels like time has been standing still."

            "You're a silver-tongued flatterer, Mr. Donovan. Either that or you're desperately in need of spectacles." I retorted as I gave him a halfway smile. "When I look at you, I know that time hasn't stood still, but I surely do like where it went." I took a deep breath and admitted, "I don't know how you managed it, but I think you're even more handsome now than when I first knew you."

            This time it was Michael's cheeks that colored. "Are you flirting with me, Miss Shannon?"

            I smiled nervously, amazed by my own forwardness. "I guess I am, Mr. Donovan."

            He winked at me. "Well it's about time!"

            After our meal was finished and the dishes from lunch had joined the ones from breakfast in the dishwasher, we took a walk around his property, holding hands and enjoying each other's company. I don't know about Michael, but I was walking on air. For the first time in my life, I was getting a glimpse of those fairytale happily-ever-afters that I'd spent my life pretending to disdain. Is this really me? I kept asking myself, hardly daring to believe an affirmative response. I had long ago given up on the idea of ever being in love again, and it was intoxicating to let myself consider the possibility.

            Being with Michael again felt like coming home after a long absence. Many things had changed, it was true, but there were enough familiar landmarks to keep me from losing my way. The more we talked, the more I recognized the man I had once known, and the more I liked the man he had become. I only hoped that I was making a similarly favorable impression.

            After a few moments of walking in friendly silence, Michael dropped my hand and put his arm around my shoulders. "You know, I really am happy to have you here, Magnolia."

            I slid my arm around his waist and squeezed. "I'm happy to be here, but I still have to reassure myself that it's true."

            He smiled. "I've had to pinch myself once or twice, too," he confessed. "But if this is a dream, I hope I never wake up." He stopped and took me by the shoulders, looking into my eyes, "I mean that Magdalyn."

            I was about to reply, but my response evaporated as he leaned down very slowly and brought his lips to mine. The kiss was chaste and respectful, but it hinted at controlled desire. Breaking contact, he took a half-step back and his hands slid down my arms until he caught both my hands in his and raised first one and then another to his lips. "I know we've agreed to take it slow, but would you consider me too bold if I confessed that I love you? I told you once that there would always be a Magnolia-shaped hole in my heart. Through the years I've tried in vain to fill that emptiness with other people and other things, but there was always a part of me that never let go of your memory."

            Once again, Michael had demonstrated his bravery by demonstrating his vulnerability and being the first to speak the three little words that had spelled the end of more than one of my own relationships. Well, I would willingly meet him halfway. "I loved you even before I knew what loving really meant," I said quietly as I laid my head against his chest and listened to the beating of his valiant heart.

            He hugged me tighter, "You'll never know how much I wanted to be the one to teach you."

            I held my breath. I was speechless, but the little voice inside my head was yelling, Tell him! Tell him! Coward that I was, though, I couldn't yet bring myself to utter the words.

            Michael must have felt me stiffen in his embrace. "What's wrong?"

            "Nothing," I lied. "I'm just a little overwhelmed by everything." That part at least was true.

            "I'm not trying to pressure you," he assured me. "I just want you to know how I feel."

            "You don't know how much that means to me," I began.

            "But . . .?" He prompted me.

            "I just need to be sure. About a lot of things. Can you understand that?"

            "Yeah, Maggie May, I understand," he assured me.

            I looked up at him. "Then . . . could you explain it to me?"

            He laughed as he put his arm around my shoulders and we walked together back to the house. 

***

            That evening Michael made plans for us to go downtown to a little club where some of his friends were playing. On the way there, we stopped to have dinner at a nearby Chinese restaurant. Michael demonstrated his prowess with chopsticks while I was perfectly content and unashamed to resort to the use of a good old-fashioned fork. At the end of the meal we were presented with the obligatory fortune cookies. Michael opened his first and read, "You are thankful for simple gifts." He nodded his head in agreement. "Why, yes as a matter of fact, I am."

            "Oh?" I asked. "Do tell. What simple things are you thankful for?" I was rather thankful that he had not stooped to the asinine habit of adding the words in bed or between the sheets to the end of his fortune.

            He reached across the table and covered my hand with his "Right now, I'm most grateful just to be me. And to be here with you."

            I dropped my eyes. "I'd have to say that I'm pretty thankful for that myself. Out of all the people in the world, I'm awfully glad we're us." Feeling self-conscious, I fumbled with my cookie. Pulling out the slip of paper I froze when I read the message.

            "Well, c'mon," Michael encouraged, "What does it say?"

            I took a deep breath and swallowed hard before reading, "Romance comes into your life this year in a very unusual sort of way." I looked at him and then dropped my eyes, wishing for the floor to open up and swallow me. Why couldn't it have been something innocuous and vague or possibly ambiguous and poorly spelled? Even the food was out to get me! So much for trying to play it cool . . .

            Michael only smiled. "That's a pretty smart cookie."

            I groaned, momentarily distracted from my feelings of awkwardness by Michael's quip, which I'm sure had been his intention all along. "You ought to be ashamed of yourself for that one, Professor Donovan!" I declared.

            He shrugged, looking quite pleased with himself. "A pun is the lowest form of humor . . . unless you think of it first!"

            After Michael paid the hostess for our meal and we rose to leave, I pretended not to notice as he surreptitiously picked up the fortune from beside my plate and slid it into his pocket.

            Our next stop was the Corner Pub on Main Street. He knew the members of the band playing that night. Rob, the lead singer, was a gray-haired hippie with a versatile tenor voice and an enviable set of lungs. During the second set, he called Michael up from the audience. "Ladies and gentleman, we have a treat for you. An old friend of ours, Dr. Mike Duncan, is in the audience tonight. If we make him welcome, I think he might be persuaded to come up and sing one for old time's sake."

            The people at nearby tables responded with applause and encouragement. Michael was reluctant at first until I gave him a gentle nudge whereupon he finally yielded to our collective entreaties. Once up on stage, Ken, the lead guitarist, picked up a guitar from its stand behind him and handed it to Michael who passed the strap over his head and checked the tuning. Rob, stepped up to the microphone and looked at Michael. "Do you feel like a little Hendrix tonight?"

            They conferred sotto voce, settling on the selection and the key. Then, Rob stepped back and Michael took his place at the microphone. "This one's for Maggie," he said as he launched into the introduction before beginning to sing in a voice that never failed to give me goose bumps. Angel came down from heaven yesterday . . .

            I heaved a sigh of relief. Thank God it's not Are You Experienced?!  I thought as I leaned back and allowed myself to enjoy the rest of the song he had dedicated to me.

            Michael sat in on a few more songs as the band played covers of classics by Clapton, Hendrix, and the Beatles, holding his own easily as I knew he would. While up on stage, he flirted shamelessly, smiling and winking whenever he caught my eye.

            After the last set, we hung around for a bit, chatting with the musicians, as Michael formally introduced me to the band. I complimented Rob, the lead singer, on his voice and Rob complimented Michael on his taste in women. I admired one of the lead guitarist's instruments, and Ken declared to Michael, "I think I'm in love."

            Michael putting a proprietary arm around my shoulders "Get your own girl," he teased. "I saw her first."

 *** 

            It was late by the time we got back to Michael's house and I couldn't stifle a yawn as we pulled into the garage. "It looks like you're about to crash and burn, my love," he commented as he opened the car door and escorted me into the house.

            "You won't need to rock me to sleep tonight," I affirmed as I walked toward to stairway and a bed that was calling my name.

            "I don't know," he mused. "That sounds like it might be fun."

            "Don't you ever think about anything else?" I asked.

            He became slightly more serious. "Yes, I do," he replied. "And, I was wondering something," he began tentatively, "I don't know how early you want to get on the road tomorrow, but I usually attend Sunday morning services at a local church, and I was wondering if you'd like to come with." He regarded me hopefully.

            I was a little surprised, "I never imagined you'd become a regular church going man," I said.

            He shrugged, "Well, I picked up the habit from somebody I knew a long time ago. And it got me through some rough patches."

            I was touched that he seemed to want to share every aspect of his life with me, not to mention surprised that my own youthful church attendance might have influenced him to go and do likewise. "Yes, I think I'd like that," I said.