Fw: A "True" Valentine's Day Story

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Hi There:

Thought you would love this story ... (a friend sent to me.)


A True Valentine's Day Story

John Blanchard stood up from the bench, straightened his Army uniform, and
studied the crowd of people making their way through Grand Central Station.
He looked for the girl whose heart he knew, but whose face he didn't, the
girl with the rose. His interest in her had begun thirteen months before in
a Florida library.

Taking a book off the shelf, he found  himself intrigued, not with the words
of the book, but with the notes penciled in the margin. The soft handwriting
reflected a thoughtful soul and insightful mind. In the front of the book,
he discovered the previous owner's name, Miss Hollis Maynell.
With time and effort he located her address.  She lived in New York City.
He wrote her a letter introducing himself and inviting her to correspond.
The next day he was shipped overseas for service in World War II.

During the next 13 months the two grew to know each other through the mail.
 Each letter was a seed falling on a fertile heart.  A romance was budding.
Blanchard requested a photograph, but she refused.  She felt that if he
really cared, it wouldn't matter what she looked like.

When the day finally came for him to return from Europe, they scheduled
their first meeting - 7:00 p.m. at Grand Central Station in New York.
"You'll recognize me," she wrote, "by the red rose I'll be wearing on my
lapel."  So at 7:00 he was in the station looking for a woman whose heart he
loved, but whose face he'd never seen.  I'll let Mr. Blanchard tell you
what happened:

A young woman was coming toward me, her figure long and slim.  Her blonde
hair lay back in curls from her delicate ears; her eyes  were blue as
flowers.  Her lips and chin had a gentle firmness, and in her pale green
suit she was like springtime come alive.  I started toward her, entirely
forgetting to notice that she was not wearing a rose.  As I moved, a small,
provocative smile curved her lips. "Going my way, sailor?" she murmured.
Almost uncontrollably I made one step closer to her, and then I saw Hollis
Maynell.  She was standing almost directly behind the woman.  Well past 40,
she had graying hair tucked under a worn hat... She was more than plump, her
thick-ankled feet thrust into low-heeled shoes.  The woman in the green suit
was walking quickly away.  I felt as though I was split in two, so keen was
my desire to follow her, and yet so deep was my longing for the woman whose
spirit had truly companioned me and upheld my own.   And there she stood.
Her pale, plump face was gentle and sensible, her gray eyes had a warm and
kindly twinkle.  I did not hesitate.  My fingers gripped the small worn blue
leather copy of the book that was to identify me to her.

This would not be love, but it would be something precious, something
perhaps even better than love, a friendship for which I had been and must
ever be grateful.

I squared my shoulders and saluted and held out the book to the woman, even
though while I spoke I felt choked by the bitterness of my disappointment.
"I'm Lieutenant John Blanchard, and you must be Miss Maynell.  I am so glad
you could meet me; may I take you to dinner?"

The woman's face broadened into a tolerant smile. "I don't know what this is
about, son," she answered, "but the young lady in the green suit who just
went by, she begged me to wear this rose on my coat.  And she said if you
were to ask me out to dinner, I should tell you that she is waiting for you
in the big restaurant across the street.  She said it was some kind of
test!"

It's not difficult to understand and admire Miss Maynell's wisdom. The true
nature of a heart is seen in its response to the less attractive."Tell me
who you love," Houssaye wrote, "And I will tell you who you are".

........Hope you enjoyed.
God Bless,
Lynna Lunsford