How Can Friendship Best Serve? (Bedelia’s back😊)

six-sentence-stories

I don’t know how Denise comes by her prompts, but they’re always Excellent!  This week she’s given us “SERVICE” to ponder, and here’s the link so you can learn more about her Six Sentence Stories weekly challenge, and join the FUN:  https://girlieontheedge1.wordpress.com/2021/03/24/its-six-sentence-story-thursday-link-up-152/

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70-ish Finn Canter had somewhat regressed to the dejected restless state of a 16-year-old boy suffering unrequited love; he’d hoped to become engaged to Bedelia Cornell on Valentine’s Day, but the elegant diamond ring he’d purchased remained in its black velveteen box, buried in his neatly-matched-socks drawer…waiting for the green light.

Having studied her almost a year and knowing caution was crucial, he’d made broad hints, skirted gently (he thought) around the topic of marriage—and was yet to discover turn of phrase which would be the key fitting her heart’s intricate lock.

His brother James softly scolded, “You’re forgetting she’s not a woman fond of change, Bro—marriage IS a major transition for someone who’s lived contentedly single for 40 years…far longer than you’ve been widowed.”

Finn bit his impatience in half: “I realize that—the deadlock seems to be the idea of leaving her faded cracker box to move into my home; who wouldn’t prefer greater space with brighter ambiance?—she can have 2 spare bedrooms to hide in when she needs time alone; James, she once said she believed we could talk about anything…where’s the lost trust?”

“Finn—some birds are more comfortable in smaller nests, your place is marvelous but hers is familiar; and it may not be ‘space issues’ only…maybe she’s fearful about intimacy—her ex-husband sounds like a tyrant; if you really love her, why not gladly accept generous, affectionate friendship offered—some day, she might propose to you“; James sighed… “I’ll call and ask if she still intends to help serve luncheon, following Easter services.”

Meanwhile, Bedelia was fretting while she vigorously scrubbed her kitchen as though The Lord’s return might be that very day; she knew Finn was unhappy: she’d had the brothers over for a fine St Paddy’s dinner and, unlike their many shared meals of garrulous frivolity—the dearth of conversation made the clink of forks on her lovely seashell plates sound loud as a death knell; “Oh, dear Jesus…what to do, what to do?”

©Zelda Rene, 2021 ~ All rights reserved.