The Most Romantic Love Story Contest

Submitted by: Paul Phibbs

One Saturday afternoon, I found myself in my West End Vancouver apartment casually reading a copy of a book. It was about the principal of a school I attended in a small college town in central Alberta in my younger years. The book had been given to me by my brother-in-law. Little did he know that his gift, which was meant to encourage me after my wife died, would stir thoughts in me about a lost love.

As I began to read my mind occasionally wandered to a crush I had on the principal’s daughter. We were in high school and college together over 42 years ago. Her name was Miriam, his youngest daughter. I remembered my thoughts of her. I remembered looking at her, admiring her, thinking about her but never getting up the courage to approach her or slip her a note. I was much too shy and she was much too popular. She had a gorgeous figure, long dark hair and milky white skin. I truly thought she was the prettiest, smartest person, most beautiful person I had ever laid eyes on. Over the years since leaving school, I occasionally wondered what had become of her. Did she find a happy life as I had found with my wife? Who had she married? Would, perhaps, this book reveal something?

After a number of weeks into the book, reading only a few pages at a time, I had finally reached the concluding chapters in which the family siblings explained about life growing up in their father’s family. When I had reached the last page it was time to hear the story of the youngest member of the family—my old heart throb, Miriam. As I read down to the bottom of the page, it explained how she had lost her husband a few years before the book was written. It thought, it couldn’t be - or could it! My mind started to race, and I smiled for the first time in a long time. I started to shake and almost fell out of my chair. Now the question was: what should I do?

I couldn’t keep the smile off my face as I wrote her a one-page carefully crafted letter of condolence and expressed interest in establishing contact with a long lost friend. I even phoned my daughter just to make sure I got it right. When I explained what I planned to do she pronounced it OK and encouraged me to go ahead.

I then managed to obtain Miriam’s address from mutual friends I had known from her home town, and they also confirmed that she had not remarried. So on April 9t, with a very big smile on my face—I hadn’t stopped smiling since all of this began—I plunked the letter in the mail box, and sent it off to Billings, Montana. I wondered how long a response would take, or if I would ever hear from her.

Miriam did receive the letter. I was not aware of her reaction when she received the innocent looking envelope in the mail from a long lost classmate, but she told me it had come as such a surprise—out of the blue. She had resigned herself to being single for the rest of her life. But she actually did remember me—although faintly—and so with the help and comfort of her son, she was supported in her decision to answer my letter. Miriam instinctively knew it was going to be a new chapter in her life.

Imagine my surprise some ten days later when I received a letter from Billings, Montana, addressed to me in green ink and meticulous hand writing. I hastily opened it to find a well-worded note thanking me and extending her condolences on the loss of my wife. Miriam and my wife had known one another in childhood and had gone to school together. She also wrote that she did remember me—vaguely. She also included her email address and phone number (which was a good sign).

My immediate reaction was to smile once again and try to email her. I was still a bit shy about actually talking to her on the phone. However, after another day had passed since I sent my email, it was obvious it wasn’t being received. I finally gathered up enough courage to call.

My heart pounded as I listened to the phone ring, and then I heard her voice, which I didn’t recognize because I had never before talked to her on the phone. I thanked her for the letter, and then we talked for over 2 hours. For the next several weeks we talked for at least an hour a day. At some point I admitted I had a crush on her in high school. This came as a surprise to her, but by now she had guessed that my intentions were more than just renewing old acquaintances.

At first I asked her for a date. I would fly down to Billings for lunch with her, but she quickly said no. She mentioned something about maybe meeting me in September at her sister’s house in Seattle. September—that was 3 months away! Within a few days, however, I persuaded her to move the day up to July l2th, her birthday, then with a few more days of persuading, she agreed to meet me on June 14th —just a few short weeks away!

To prepare for the date of my life I went out and had my car detailed ($200) and bought new clothes ($2000). I never spent that much on clothing at one time in my life! The guys in the clothing store, when they knew what I was up to, also advised me to stop at a donut shop in Burlington, Washington to get a dozen donuts. They assured me it would be a big hit with her and her relatives.

Finally Saturday, June 14th, 2003 arrived. It was a bright clear morning, and I decided to leave extra early so I wouldn’t be hung up at the border in long lineups. I quickly found that at 5 am on a Saturday there aren’t many cars on the road—no lineups and no traffic jams. I quickly arrived at Burlington, got the precious donuts and found myself in Renton, Washington much too early.

Miriam and I had planned a romantic meet at the bottom of her sister’s driveway at 10 am. So I parked in a nearby shopping center and after thinking pleasant thoughts, using a local washroom, making sure my clothes were on straight and combing my hair for the umpteenth time, I dialed my cell phone and called her sister’s number. Her bother-in-law answered the phone and when I told him I had arrived he seemed surprised. He said he didn’t think Miriam was quite ready for me yet but told me to wait a minute. I could hear a muffled conversation and then his voice telling me to come on up in few minutes.

So I put the car in gear and tried to keep my mind on my driving. My mind was racing again. What will she look like after 42 years? Would I recognize her? Would I feel the old chemistry? At this point I began to feel like a teenager on his first date. My palms were sweaty, my faced was flushed and my knees felt week. I never dreamed I could feel like this at my age!

I carefully eyed the house numbers, and as I got close I thought I would be greeted by a pretty lady in front of the house. Instead I saw a 75-year-old man! He introduced himself as Miriam’s brother-in-law and hastily explained that Mim (she now went by her nickname) was inside because she had gotten cold standing outside in her thin dress. In a minute she appeared.

All I could initially do was look. I’m sure my mouth was hanging open. But there she was. Her hair was shorter and had turned a silvery gray. She still had the sparkle in her eyes, and the curves were all in the right places. She was just a pretty as I always imagined. No doubt about it; the chemistry was still there!

Mim introduced herself and hurried me inside to meet her sister who seemed overjoyed to see a new man in her younger sister’s life. The boys in the suit shop were right—the donuts were a big hit. Mim’s brother-in-law ate most of them!

I checked into a local hotel for the night, and the next day Mim and I went for a stroll around a small nearby lake. As we stepped out of the car we could hear music from the 50’s playing and saw that an antique car rally was taking place. It was just like it was meant for us, taking us back to times long ago. We felt young again. It truly was a dream day for us, and we knew love had found us again.

During the next month we visited one another’s home town and met friends and relatives. I knew I could never be with another woman, and I sensed she felt the same. So on July 12th the stage was set to propose to her in her favorite restaurant in Billings. When crossing the border this time the customs officer asked me where I was going and what I was doing. When I showed him the ring and told him he said “Do you think she’ll say yes?” I said, “I sure hope so.” He smiled, wished me all the best and waved me through.

I slipped the ring on her finger and after she said a quick and tearful, “I do,” the restaurateurs gathered around and congratulated us. The owners made sure roses were set at the best booth and complementary wine was ready.

We, of course, made immediate plans for marriage. Neither of us had reservations about what we were doing and had very little “baggage” from our previous relationships. We had both loved our first spouses dearly and had great families. The soonest date we thought we could manage, considering we needed to introduce ourselves to the other’s family as well as make all the usual plans for a big wedding, was the day after my 63rd birthday—October 11th 2003.

Along with our families, we were supremely happy. Our wedding day went magnificently and included a ride through Stanley Park on a horse-drawn carriage accompanied by Mim’s four new grand daughters.

Truly the Hand of Fate had written both of us the world’s greatest love story.