Sitting back down, Sherman smiled and lifted his hand. A frown marred his forehead when she didn’t look over. He watched her bend to open the car door, but suddenly she popped back up and then smiled and waved.
It was a tradition. She’d been living across the street for three years, and if she came down early enough before she had to rush off to work, she would dash over and chat with him for a few minutes. But even if she couldn’t do that, she always left him with a wave and a smile.
Sherman had grown very fond of the young woman. As she pulled away, a sad smile flitted across his lips. The young girl was trying to make it on her own, but sometimes a person was stronger not weaker for asking for a helping hand in times of need. She was a stubborn one, though, and wouldn’t allow him to help her.
Well, he thought, as her cab drove down the street on her way to a job that wouldn’t take her anywhere, he was going to help her—one way or another. His spreading smile took years away from his wrinkled face. It was a good thing Joseph was with him to brainstorm.
“She’s such a fine young woman. I’ve been trying to help her for quite some time, but she’s determined to do everything on her own. That girl isn’t someone who even cares to utter the word defeat,” Sherman told Joseph.
“She looks familiar,” Joseph said as he stared after her, searching his memory. “What’s her story?”
“Her parents were missionaries for a lot of years and then working-class folk, didn’t have a whole lot. Her father died when she was twenty, and it was real hard on her. Her mom was sick so she dropped out of school to take care of her, and then her mother passed last year. She hasn’t managed to get back on her feet quite yet. But she will. She was taught young not to complain in life, and she lives by that motto,” Sherman said.
“There’s nothing wrong with asking for help once in a while,” Joseph said as the two of them watched the cab disappear. “But I’ve always admired a woman with a strong backbone. That’s the kind of girl who won’t be led easily astray.”
“Yes, I agree with you there,” Sherman said. “I was sort of hoping to set her up with one of my nephews, but I can’t seem to get them in the same room with her. She’s always so busy . . .”
“Well, my dear friend, you should have come to me sooner,” Joseph boomed with a laugh, making Sherman, who was used to his boisterous friend, jump.
“Why is that, Joseph?”
“Because if there’s one thing I know about, it’s matchmaking,” Joseph said as he sat back. He pulled out two deliciously scented cigars. “We’ll need these. This will take a while.”
“I sure won’t turn one down,” Sherman said, accepting the fragrant tobacco.
The two men lit up and then leaned back as the thunder moved further north but still gave them a good show to behold.
“Tell me more about this girl,” Joseph said.
“Stormy is kind. I visit my old friend Penny in those apartments quite often, and if Stormy sees that I’m carrying anything, she’ll insist on helping me. And on days like this, when the weather takes a turn for the worse, I guarantee you, she’ll swing by after work to make sure everything is okay with Penny, who isn’t remembering things so easily these days. Stormy’s become like a granddaughter to me and a few other people in that old apartment building, and I just adore her beautiful heart and her sweet words. I miss her when a few days pass that I don’t get to chat,” Sherman said.
“It sounds like she’s made of the good stuff,” Joseph said, disappointed he didn’t have any sons left to set her up with. Of course, he loved Sherman’s nephews like his own, so he’d be happy to see this Stormy with one of Sherman’s boys.
“Yep, she is. I hate seeing her living all alone. She should be settled down, having a nice young lad to help carry some of her burden. The forty years I spent with my beautiful wife before the Lord decided she needed to be elsewhere were the best years of my life,” Sherman said.
“I can’t imagine what would happen to me if I lost my Katherine,” Joseph said.
“I still miss Betty every single moment of each day. Now, I find joy with other people, but it’s never going to be the same. She was my soul mate and there’s no replacement for her. Everyone should have that at least once in their lifetime.”
“I agree, Sherman. I fully agree,” Joseph told his friend.
The storm began to clear and the two men heard a jet fly over them. Sherman looked up at the sky with a bit of envy.
“You still miss it, don’t you?” Joseph asked, completely understanding.
“Oh, I miss it each morning I wake up,” Sherman assured his friend.
What felt like many years before, Sherman had been a pilot for the military, and then privately, crop dusting fields and eventually flying jetliners. He’d soared high above the clouds, leaving all his cares on the ground as he sat behind the controls of a powerful jet engine.
There were days he’d give just about anything to be up there again, trying to beat the morning sun as he rushed down a runway at one hundred plus miles per hour.
Pulling a keychain out of his pocket, he handed the faded blue ring to his friend. The scratched letters of Pan American were still printed on the face.
“I remember this,” Joseph said with a laugh.
“I spent a lot of years with them. It’s the keepsake I refuse to let go of,” Sherman said.
“We all need to have keepsakes from the good old days. But Sherman, when your nephews are married and bringing more family home to you, then you won’t look so much at the past anymore. I love my present and I look forward to the future,” Joseph assured him.
“I think you are absolutely right, Joseph,” Sherman said. He put the keychain away and smiled. And then he grabbed a pen and paper and smiled even more broadly.
Let the matchmaking begin.
CHAPTER SIX
Stormy was startled from her short slumber by what sounded like someone trying to break down her apartment door. She had finally fallen asleep around two in the morning after getting home late from work.
Laying there a few more moments, she was furious when the pounding continued. Who would be so rude at such an early hour? It was only seven o’clock. Finally, when the noise continued on for what seemed to be forever, she threw off her covers with a frustrated sigh and stood up.
Glancing again at the vintage alarm clock, which was sitting on two upside-down milk crates covered with a piece of blue fabric, she realized only a minute had passed.
Throwing herself back down on the bed, she refused to answer her door, though she was now wide awake. She wouldn’t reward the person’s rude behavior by acknowledging his or her presence.
When five minutes passed and the intruder still refused to leave, she finally got up and pulled her pink terry cloth robe around her to stomp across her cold, worn wooden floors. She passed through her sparsely furnished, small living room and stood in front of her door.
“Whoever is out there can get the hell away from here before I cock the shotgun I’m currently holding,” she said, hoping her voice sounded a lot braver than she felt.
Silence greeted her statement.
“I’m not kidding. I grew up on an army base and I know how to use this thing,” she lied as she looked down at her sweaty palms. She didn’t even own a gun, but the person on the other side of the door didn’t know that.