An Unanticipated Destiny

The sun’s warmth sought to pierce the veil of thin, crisp air. A slight dusting of snow, twinkling pin pricks of reflection. The sun smiles on.

With no wind to chill the town, the inhabitants enjoy a moderately tempered day.

Amy loves winter and the lead up to the Holidays. The lights, the decorations, aromas of smoke from chimney fires, shopping for loved ones, even the kitschy made for tv movies. There is a promise of happiness and joy mixed with a little bit of magic.

Predictably Main Street was bustling in her quaint hometown. Shuffling between throngs of people, the storefronts display their wares with seasonal decorations. Robert, the baker, offering gingerbread cookie samples. Terry of Terry’s Nuts and Bolts and Things works on arranging a new display of wrenches. The sea of mostly familiar faces in this small-town hurrying to finish their shopping.

Amy enjoys the charming dialogue of the shoppers. “Mom wants a teapot…” “Let’s get George his new toolbox for Christmas...” and Amy’s favorite “I have no clue what to get my mother in law’s dog…”

She has always considered herself an independent woman and, even though she is just serving at a local diner, she is always trying to expand her world view and take on new adventures and risks. Perhaps it is her adventurous spirit that allowed her to accept her friends request to set her up on a blind date.

Who is the mystery man in question? She knew his name and occupation. Marcus Douglas. Free lance photographer and newest addition to the local news station.

Glancing at the hands of that silver and pearl antique face, it says 2:45PM. She has about two hours and some change to go home and get ready. She had received a text from an unknown number that morning confirming their dinner plans. She saved his contact information as Marcus Blind Date.

They are meeting at one of the two nicest restaurants the town boasted. The first, a French Bistro, with the same given title. The other, an Italian gem, Fresco. Italian won. Amy’s favorite menu item is the Tortellini Quatro Formaggio. Her mouth already watering in anticipation of the upcoming repast.

Two hours later, hair dried and styled naturally with long blonde waves. Amy grabs her oversized beige wind resistant coat to throw over her low necked, long sleeved and fitted black dress. The slit up the left side revealing her dark opaque pantyhose. She chose to wear sensible black lace up boots to prevent slipping on snow and ice.

While heading out the door, Amy does one final glance to temper vanity in the reflected glass above her entryway table. Her minimalistic make up applied skillfully after years of practice. She leaves feeling satisfied.

Her thoughts are scattered. Musings of self doubt, curiosity at his appearance, mortification that she cared a great deal about his looks, and concern about unequal conversational skills keeps her from noticing the tall man, cast in the shadows of the awning, out front.

Bumping into him she apologizes quickly to the vague shape before her. Making to step around him she is stopped by a large hand on her shoulder.

“Are you Amy?” a deep voice asks.

Taken aback at her name being uttered from the lips of the human shape, she turns and tries to clear the shadows with her stare.

Quick to notice the situation, Marcus, opens the door to the restaurant allowing a wash of light to illuminate them both. “I’m Marcus,” he offers politely.

His stare warm and inviting.

“UH, yes. Hi. I’m indeed Amy.” She awkwardly steps through the open door at the same time offering her right hand for a shake.

Non-plussed, he waits for her to enter, then taking her proffered hand in his strong one and giving it a firm but gentle shake.

To her delight, he offers to take her jacket and check it at the coat closet.

Pleased by his gentlemanly manners and handsome appearance, she mentally praises Erica for setting them up.

The low ambient lighting of the restaurant with candles and twinkle lights offers the promise of intimacy.

Giddy is the best way to describe her feelings. His features arranged in such a way to be extremely pleasing to her. A roguish smile on his thin lips, his thick black hair falling to his collar in graceful dishevelment, with deep set gray eyes, a long and slightly crooked nose, a wide and high forehead and a clean-shaven chiseled jaw.

Controlling her face to a small smile, she calmly follows their host to the reserved table. A secluded plush booth for two. A bottle of wine already waiting.

As she scoots into her side of the booth with two small hops and a wiggle, he seems to glide into his seat with ease. He makes the point of sitting next to her, almost touching.

“Is this too close?” he smiles, looking slightly down at her.

“Just because it’s close, does not mean in has to be unwelcome.” She blushes slightly at her boldness, hoping the lighting is hiding her embarrassment.

He chuckles “Well, I’ll take that as my cue to stay put then.”

He reaches over to the wine and presents the bottle to her.

“I hope you don’t mind; I took the liberty of ordering a bottle of Merlot for the table. I was told this vineyard and vintage is medium bodied, fruit forward, with spice on the finish. It pairs well with a myriad of different dishes.” His voice reflecting sincerity with a hint of pride.

“I am impressed that you took the time. I love Merlot.” She smiles widely at him now.

The server arrives almost instantly and opens the bottle and pours her a taste for approval. She swirls, sniffs, then sips in her best imitation of a sommelier. Upon her nod, he pours them each a glass. With a small greeting and a run through of the specials they are left alone again to make decisions.

“This merlot really is wonderful. Thank you for ordering it. It happens to be my favorite varietal.” she says while taking another sip.

He nods as if in agreement.

“I was hoping to try the toasted ravioli for an appetizer, if you’re open to that?”

She laughs good naturedly. “What? You didn’t want to take the menu tour with our server? Are you always this prepared? Do you lack spontaneity as a rule or just for this evening?”

He stares across the room for a moment before he gazes her way. “In all honesty, as a freelance photographer, I don’t have a lot of structure to my life, since the assignments are always varied. I wanted to impress you by being prepared.”

Taking another sip of her wine, “good answer.”

“I aim to please.” That inviting smile again.

“So, do you take it upon yourself to impress all blind dates? I wonder at you having made such an effort, especially since you did not know if we would be a match. “

The lights reflect off his glass as he tilts the crimson liquid to his lips. She watches him swallow.

“I have a confession to make. I did a bit of reconnaissance and discovered your preferences through your friend Erica. She also told me where you worked, and I decided to go to the diner. I was seated in another section of the restaurant so I could observe you without being seen. I instantly recognized you from Erica’s description. Though she did not do you justice.” A pause.

“Thank you for the compliment…” Amy fills the void with her hesitant reply. Not quite sure what to make of this revelation.

As if sensing her confusion Marcus continues, “I only meant to stay for a quick cup of coffee but I was so enamored watching how you finessed your guests, hurried about yet all the while maintaining your composure and friendly attitude, I stayed above an hour. I’m sorry if that is shocking to you.”

“I’m trying not to be alarmed at the violation. I’m thinking maybe doing a background check on you before meeting might not have been such a bad idea” she says teasingly but with an air of caution.

“I promise, no criminal records. I just became intrigued to know you after seeing you in your element. I immediately called Erica and had her set up the date. I suppose I could have asked you out right then and there but then thought maybe I would have a better chance at getting your approval if it was through your friend. It would seem, you are braver than I am about going on a date with a complete stranger.”

“Oh, this? Blind dates are out of character but this doesn’t require much bravery. I’ve resided in this town pretty much my entire life. The exception being college.” She says with a wink.

A brief interruption of placing orders.

“Well, I am intrigued and excited to know you more.”

“So long as you reciprocate with details of your life. I am curious to know more about my would be stalker.” It was easy to throw him off his guard with good natured ribbing after his revelation.

“May I pour you another glass of merlot?”

“Please.”

She told him how she loves animals and children alike yet never yearned for the latter. Throughout the years she found herself offering sanctuary to all sorts of animals. Birds, cats, dogs and even the occasional wounded squirrel. They seemed to find her, these wounded creatures, at her small stone and brick cottage just outside of town. For Amy, there was sense of purpose and gratification in helping them that she did not find in her occupation. Releasing most back to the wild, or adoption, she only kept one raggedy long-haired cat named August, named for the month he showed up on her door, with a torn ear and an infected eye. He lost part of his ear, but he kept the eye.

He told her of his excursions over seas for war photography while he was enlisted for a short time in the military. He sidestepped many questions about his past. Was elusive enough to be intriguing but honest and direct with most of his responses to her queries.

Ravioli, salads, entrees and dessert accompanied by two bottles of wine they share stories of their hopes, dreams, likes, dislikes, and goals, closing down the restaurant.

As a server she peeks at him signing the check, which he insisted on paying, and is thrilled to see him leave a generous tip.

Outside their breaths turn to vapor. The heavens sparkle above them and a shooting star flies overhead; an omen of positivity and promise. They miss this heavenly display as they are too distracted with each other.

Before she knows it they arrive at her door. She does not invite him in. He does not presume.

He leans in, almost kissing her, but holds back waiting for permission. She closes her eyes and leans forward. The kiss they share is intense and sweet and nothing like she had ever experienced before.

As he turns to go, she stops him with a final question, “Is there anything else you’d like to share? Any secrets?”

Invading her personal space, he whispers “No secrets.”

She takes him at his word and breaks their connection and they say their final farewells.

Both find the anticipation of sweet possibilities prevent sleep. The most delicious moments always seem to be at the beginning.

Eventually she finds out that he does have secrets. Including prophecy. That their story would take them to many places in different realms and dimensions. She would see first hand how immense the multiverse is. This is their beginning.