© Copyright 2006 by Charlotte Ann Zuzak

“I swear that fiction editors have never had a love life. This one says that my male character sounds like a stalker! Just because he indicates that he loves the woman the first time he sees her…. I don’t understand!” Morgan Haney threw down her briefcase as she perched on the stool at the diner counter.

Drew Rowan, the owner of Rowan’s Diner, smiled as he brought her a cup of coffee. “Maybe you ought to submit a story based on your marriage with Johnny. Send in a note saying ‘Yes, he did propose on the first date, and yes we were married for twenty-six years before he died’.”

“Nowadays no one would believe it, Drew.”

Drew ran his hand through his thick, black hair, streaked with gray. Still a handsome man at fifty, thought Morgan. Always a good friend. The big brother I never had.

Widowed for about three years, Morgan was a very beautiful, slim woman at fifty. Slim with shoulder length blond hair pulled back in a pony tail, her snappy blue eyes often put pushy suitors in their place.

“You had a good marriage, Morgan.”

Morgan saw the hurt in his eyes.

“Why didn’t you ever remarry, Drew? You were in a bad situation when Faith left you. But that was long ago.”

“I might ask that same of you, Mrs. Haney. You’re a beautiful woman at fifty. Why haven’t you remarried?”

Morgan blushed and looked down. “I just felt as if I’d always compare Johnny with whoever came along. And besides, there were the children.”

“For heaven’s sake! Rob and Mary weren’t children when Johnny died!”

“How is it you know my age, Drew Rowan?” She grinned at him, trying to change the subject.

“Well, Mrs. Haney. We were in the same class.”

Drew grabbed a towel and busily wiped the counter. Morgan felt him glancing at her from time to time, and wondered what he was thinking. As she set her cup down, Drew refilled it.

Morgan remembered when Drew had finally given in to a divorce, in spite of the fact that his church was so set against the procedure. He had taken custody of the children when Faith had said she couldn’t handle them. Meghan and Sean had been a handful because she had never been around, thought Morgan. She was always involved in her own interests, and finally another man. It was Drew who took the kids to school, and to their sports events or music lessons. Meghan had studied Irish dancing and had become quite good.

And then when Faith was diagnosed with cancer Drew had attended to her needs in spite of the fact that they were divorced. Her new love had abandoned her and she had no close family. Drew made sure that she went to her chemotherapy, saw to it that she ate right and exercised as long as she could. It didn’t really extend her life, but did give her quality of life in the time remaining. When her hair started to fall out, he had found her a wig that was close to her color and style.

“And why are you so upset? You are always published.”

Morgan sighed. “It’s become a challenge, because this magazine has turned down everything I’ve sent in.”

Drew shrugged and started checking the condiments on each table.

Morgan had first met him in high school when he and his family had come to town, newly arrived from Ireland. His father had taken over a failing restaurant, and started serving simple, but good food, that the people in the area enjoyed.

She remembered how bullies in the class at school had made fun of his accent. After a few fist fights and bloody noses with Drew, the other boys left him alone. He had been a street fighter in Ireland.

Morgan and Drew had become good friends, and remained so after she went away to the university, and he stayed in town working the diner while attending a local community college parttime.

Her memories were interrupted when Drew came back and sat on the stool beside her. “You mustn’t worry. I’ve heard you’re an excellent teacher.” A slight lilt still sang through his speech. “My kids were always crazy about you. Said you were the best teacher they ever had. Meggie is teaching now in a private school, you know. Just got an email from Sean. He’s finishing law school.”

“That’s wonderful, Drew. They have you to thank for all the good things they have.” Morgan smiled. Faith had been crazy to leave him.

“That’s better. You always had a beautiful smile. The angels of Ireland would love you.”

“Ooh, what a line, Drew Rowan,” she laughed. “But keep it up. You’re putting some sunshine in my day!”

He looked at her. “You did the same for an immigrant boy several years ago. Your tutoring sessions were always the bright spot in the day. You were so patient. There are times when you can be lonely even if you’re surrounded by six brothers and sisters.”

As he patted her arm, Morgan felt happier than she had in a long time. She felt her face grow red as she hastily picked up her change purse to pay.

“On the house.” As she looked up at Drew, she realized that suddenly he looked very boyish and shy. He picked up her briefcase and handed it to her.

Later Morgan sighed as she opened the door of her house. The whole weekend was staring at her with papers to grade and laundry to do. She still hadn’t decided what she wanted to do with the summer. There was a writer’s conference in Vermont, but somehow, she just couldn’t get interested.

After changing clothes, she poured herself a glass of wine and thought about Drew, her best friend, who happened to own one of the most popular diners in the state. He’d been featured on PBS one time in an “On the Road” series.

Okay, Morgan, she thought to herself. Great guy. Good looking. Loves animals and children. Volunteers at church when work needs to be done. Father Malloy saved a bundle when Drew did some plumbing work.

I wonder where he lives, she asked herself, amazed that she didn’t know. She hadn’t paid attention when he sold his first house after the children were in college.

The next morning, trying to pick out something to wear, she decided her wardrobe needed help. Trying to brush her hair into a semblance of neatness, she decided also that her hair could use some styling.

At noon, after her hair was cut, styled and highlighted, she decided to have lunch at Rowan’s Diner. Looking at all the clothing purchases in the back seat of her car she decided to take them home first and change into that new denim skirt with the button-down shirt.

Drew’s eyes lit up as Morgan entered the diner. She moved towards a stool at the counter, but Drew insisted on seating her in a booth.

“Give me a minute. I’ll be over with my lunch.”

She ordered a hamburger and a coke as Drew brought over an order of French fries for himself.

“I hope you don’t eat like that all the time,” she said, gently admonishing him.

“Hey, I don’t have a lot of time to eat. I grab what I can. Eat a decent breakfast.”

“Ever exercise?”

“I jog!” he said triumphantly, “Early morning. As a matter of fact, I run past your house.”

Morgan looked up, surprised. “How do you know where I live?”

He grinned. “I was behind you the other day in the car and got curious as to where you live. And I’m not a stalker!”

She laughed.

“Morgan?” Drew was playing with his napkin. “I’d like to go out with you.”

Morgan, taken by surprise, struggled to say something.

“Forget it. Big mistake,” mumbled Drew as he awkwardly slid out of the booth and headed for the kitchen.

After quickly paying her bill, Morgan stepped out into the sunny day. Driving home she thought about what Drew had try to say. She had never thought about going out with Drew until he tried to ask her out and lost his courage.

Walking into the kitchen, she picked up the phone book, rapidly found his address, and headed back out to her car. Morgan found his house in a neighborhood that had been renovated and was attracting young professionals. As she paused, Drew pulled into his driveway. Hoping he hadn’t seen her, she hastily pulled away.

She headed home, her heart still beating like a drum. Later, she picked up a novel and tried to read, but couldn’t concentrate. Instead, she heated a frozen pizza and turned on the TV.

About eight o’clock the doorbell rang. Puzzled, she looked through the peephole. There stood Drew and she was in her oldest jeans and faded flannel shirt. She opened the door and looked up at his hesitant smile.

“I didn’t know if you’d be busy, but I took a chance. May I come in?”

Opening the door she noticed how tall he was and how neat he looked in his blazer and chinos.

He handed her a book and smiled shyly. “It’s a book of short stories by Irish writers. I’d like you to have it.”

Morgan was touched to the point of feeling tears in her eyes. “This is beautiful, Drew. Thank you.”

Setting it on a table, she pointed to the sofa. “Please, sit down.”

“Morgan, I’m sorry about this afternoon. I really embarrassed you.”

“No, Drew. Let’s just forget about it.”

Hesitating, he finally turned to her. “Morgan, there’s something I have to say. Please don’t laugh if I’m off base. I’ll just leave.”

“Drew,” she said softly, “just say it.”

“I want you to know how through the years I have really admired you. You were nice to me when others hurt me. Said nothing about the shabby clothes I had to wear.”

“Drew, you were there when I went through some bad times, my big brother.”

“Morgan, I don’t want to be your big brother. I have other feelings for you. I wanted to ask you to the prom in high school, and didn’t have the money. Did you know that?”

Morgan stared at him. “No, I didn’t.”

“I was so envious of that date of yours who ended up being your husband.”

She touched his cheek and he reached up and took her hand in his.

“Morgan, I’ve felt something for you for a long time. I felt your grief when Johnny died; I didn’t celebrate. But it’s been awhile. Would it be possible for us to see each other?”

This is such a cliché, thought Morgan. But I feel all warm and fuzzy! She picked up the book and leafed through it. She was familiar with some of the authors. Might be a good idea to introduce her advanced class to the Irish writers.

“Drew,” she looked at him shyly. “Would you tell me about some of your favorite authors over dinner?”




HEY! and don't forget to e-mail Charlotte Ann Zuzak if you have a comment!


zuz@zoominternet.net

Author's Note: Charlotte has a bachelor’s degree from Albion College and a master’s from the University of Michigan, both in foreign languages. In addition to writing, Charlotte enjoys a career as church organist and accompanist for voice students at Grove City College. At the moment she is also studying the Celtic harp. She and her husband, a retired college dean, travel extensively throughout western and eastern Europe. In July ’05 they traveled to Poland. They have a daughter who is an MD.

Charlotte’s travel plans for 2006 include Spain, Russia and Sicily. She taught Spanish on the high school and college level for thirty years before turning back to her original major, music.

Charlotte’s poetry and short stories have been published in The Storyteller, Apropos, Cochran’s Corner, Hidden Oak and several other publications.





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