The Valentine Symphony

By Ruth C. Wharton

Music is the surprising catalyst that brings love and new life to two women from very different generations.

Millie is the director of Christmas House at Sunny Hills Retirement Community. She enjoys her busy life and her friendsuntil Jack shows up one night. For fifty years shes forced herself to forget him, but now she cant think about anything else.

The Valentine Symphony changes everything.

Love comes when youre busy doing other things, Millie counsels her granddaughter Vicki, who is still grieving over her unfaithful ex-fianc. When Vicki rediscovers her passion for music, she rediscovers herself. Love soon follows.

• Language: English
• Publisher: iUniverse
• Release date: Jun 21, 2017
• ISBN: 9781532025976

Ruth C. Wharton

Ruth C. Wharton has won awards for her poetry and short stories. She lives near Dallas, Texas, close to family and friends.

Book preview

1

L IKE EVERY OTHER night, Millie Anderson read for a few minutes, then switched off the light and quickly fell into a deep sleep. An hour later, the sounds of Moonlight Serenade drifted through her dreams. She dozed through A String of Pearls, Rhapsody in Blue, and Stardust. In the middle of My Funny Valentine, the scent of Old Spice aftershave and the long-forgotten roughness of an Army uniform against her cheek brought Millie fully awake. Her heart hammered as she looked up at the mischievous grin that she fell in love with many years ago. Jack Smith had danced back into her life, again. She clung to him, laughing and crying at the same time.

Music permeated the room, but Millie didn’t see a band or a record player or even a speaker. In response to the music, multi-colored rainbows of light bounced up and down around the edge of the dance floor, reconfiguring the size and shape of the room as the floor tilted and flowed, expanded and shrunk. With every crescendo, chrysanthemum bursts of color exploded and showered down like Fourth of July fireworks.

Suddenly, the chug, chug, and whistle of Chattanooga Choo Choo burst into the room. Jack propelled Millie away from him into a spin then back. They danced face-to-face, swung apart, and together again. Just like the night they met, her hair was long and dark and curled in victory rolls. She wore her favorite Mary Jane pumps, blue skirt, and white blouse. They danced all over the ballroom, in and out of the ever-changing open spaces, alcoves, and hallways, neither of them breaking a sweat or missing a step.

Chattanooga Choo Choo wound down and faded as The Very Thought of You filled the room. Jack pulled her close and lifted her face as he bent down to kiss her.

Mildred. Mildred, wake up. The nurse gently shook Millie’s shoulder. It’s time for breakfast, and you need to take your medicine.

Millie opened her eyes and looked around. Jack was gone. She was in her bed at the Sunny Hills Retirement Community, which was her home now. As the last notes of The Very Thought of You faded away, Millie asked, Do you hear the music, Sandra?

No, but I heard some music a few minutes ago. Probably it was Mrs. Winfield’s radio, although she usually has it tuned to talk shows or preaching. But what’s going on with you, Mildred? Every morning for the past three years you’ve been awake when I bring your medicine. I’ve never had to wake you up. Today you were dreaming, your eyes were going back and forth under your lids, and you were smiling. It must have been a good dream.

Millie sat up and took the small cup of pills Sandra handed her. I don’t remember, she murmured and swallowed her medicine. Before Sandra could ask any more questions, Millie eased out of bed and pushed her walker to the bathroom. She hobbled into the shower stall and settled on the plastic chair, then turned on the water. Sandra was wrong; it wasn’t a dream. Jack was real. She’d smelled his Old Spice and felt his arms around her and even heard his heart beat.

She hadn’t allowed herself to think of Jack in decades. Her family knew nothing of him, and the staff would assume she had dementia. But, it was time to get on with her day, as if nothing had happened, so no one else would ask her any questions. She turned the water off then grasped the rail with one hand and toweled herself dry with the other.

She was almost too late for breakfast. Fifteen minutes later and the dining room would be closed until lunch time. The tables were vacant except one, occupied by four old men finishing their last cups of coffee. Good. That meant her friends were already at the Christmas House working on holiday and other benevolence projects, too busy with their work and conversations to notice her absence.

Millie went back to her room after breakfast instead of joining her friends. She pulled the drapes over the large window that looked out on the courtyard and sat in her recliner to think about Jack’s visit. Many years ago she’d forced the memories of their life together into the deepest part of her heart and forbade her mind to go there. When Jack came to her, it was like the night they met, except there weren’t any other people.

She was eighteen, a freshman in college, doing her duty to help The War Effort. Four nights a week she and a couple of her friends volunteered at the USO. They helped prepare huge trays of food, arranged magazines and newspapers on tables, passed out cigarettes, and, their favorite part, danced with the soldiers. How young and naive she’d been. So sure of herself. So determined not to allow the tragedies of war or the attention of eager young men in uniform distract her from her plan to finish college and become an independent woman before she married if she decided to get married. And for months, since she first came to the USO, she’d ignored the flirtations, performed her duties, and gone home with no further thought of the soldiers except to pray they weren’t killed or captured when they went off to war. Then Jack danced into her life. In that one instant, everything changed.

Now The Very Thought of You, their song, looped unremittingly through her mind, the words haunting her once again, …the longing here for you, You’ll never know how slow the moments go till I’m near to you… The very thought of you, my love. During that brief magical season, she’d had no idea the lyrics would be true for so many years. Tears rolled down her cheeks. Why did he come back last night only to leave her again? And, once again, they didn’t finish dancing to their song.

Millie heard a tap on the door and quickly wiped the tears off her face. Doris Hilton opened the door and marched in. Hey, are you in here? What are you doing, sitting in the dark? She snapped on the overhead light.

Doris was Millie’s self-appointed guardian. They had known each other for years. Doris worked her way up from teller to vice president at the bank where Sam, Millie’s husband, had been president. When Doris retired, she moved to Sunny Hills Retirement Community and, when Sam moved into the hospice unit, she adopted Millie as her special project.

Doris was tall and slim, her hair stylishly coifed and her face perfectly made up like it had been every morning for the forty-five years she’d worked at the bank. Doris always wore creased slacks or knee-length skirts and silk blouses, sometimes with a jacket. On rare occasions, she chose dressy, Capri outfits. Never denim or sweat pants or exercise garb like the rest of the residents. She continued to send all her clothes to the dry cleaners, just as she had during her working days.

Just thinking, Doris. I need to think about some things. Millie turned on the lamp next to her chair.

What things? What’s going on? When you didn’t show up for breakfast or at the Christmas House, we got worried. Sandra said she had to wake you up, and you just weren’t yourself this morning. Something about a dream. So, out with it, what’s going on?

Nothing! I’m fine, Millie snapped before she could stop herself. She softened her voice. I guess I read too long after I went to bed last night and I’m still tired.

"Well, come on to the Christmas House, and you’ll feel better. We’ve still got lots to do if we’re going to get everything finished on time. The Fire Department Benevolence Committee wants to pick up the knitted and crocheted winter gear in three weeks. We need to go through their bin and see how close we are to getting their order done.

Right now Alma needs you to help her with the gloves she’s knitting. She doesn’t know if she dropped a stitch or isn’t reading the pattern right. Also, three more boxes of donations came in this morning. And we have a new resident who’s interested in working with us. We need you.

Millie stifled a sigh. Jack would have to wait. She grabbed her walker and followed Doris out the door.

2

M ILLIE FOLLOWED DORIS through the French doors into Christmas House. Before she made it to the yarn area, Judy West, another Sunny Hills resident and volunteer, intercepted her. Here’s our director, Millie, just in time to give the tour to our new resident. Judy hurried back to her work table.

Millie smiled and extended her hand. Volunteering here is an excellent way to make friends, and we always need more volunteers. I hope you’ll join us.

Thanks, Millie. The new resident took Millie’s hand. My name is Gert, short for Gertrude. This is quite a place you’ve got. Do all these people live here at Sunny Hills? Gert waved her hand around the room.

On any given day there may be two or three people from the community helping us, but most of the volunteers are residents here. When this facility was built, the City insisted that Christmas House would be relocated to this campus so it would be easier for us older volunteers to get to work.

Millie led Gert to a long table at the back of the room where two ladies were sorting clothes into piles. People from the community donate clothes, toys, household items, and craft supplies. Sometimes new, but usually garage sale leftovers. We repair or repurpose the stuff people don’t want and then donate the new products to charities.

Our yarn workers are over here. Millie turned her walker and shuffled toward the other side of the room where a dozen women surrounded a large table as they crocheted, knitted, or worked on other hand-sewing projects.

An old man with thick white hair and bushy brows above twinkly blue eyes strode up to the table. Good morning, Ladies. He took off an imaginary hat and leaned forward, sweeping the hat from one side to the other in a gesture of greeting. He turned to Millie. Here’s the list of supplies we need. Maureen asked for it yesterday.

Morning, George. Millie took the list. Gert, this is George. He’s the current King of the Lion’s Den.

George bowed at the waist. At your service, Madame.

George, would you please tell Gert what you all do in the Lion’s Den?

Of course. I have just enough time before I whisk the fair maiden Sylvia off to lunch.

Hearing her name, Sylvia and the other yarners stopped talking and looked up. George winked at Sylvia, who immediately looked down at her embroidery work, stabbing the needle in and out as her face turned crimson. Millie smiled. George was sweet on Sylvia, everyone knew that, and he delighted in making her blush.

George turned back to Gert and continued. The Lion’s Den is located next to the Christmas House, right out the French doors and to your left. It is a place where men can gather and work, without women telling us what to do. The ladies are asked to knock before entering. George nodded toward the doors and gave Gert a look that indicated his seriousness about knocking. Gert’s eyes widened, and her head bobbed up and down in agreement to the terms.

Smiling again, George said, We repair broken toys and household appliances, restore scarred furniture and assemble kits of all sorts—shelving, TV tables, whatever else is packaged with some assembly required." Around Christmas, some of ‘Santa’s helpers’ pay us to assemble bikes and other toys. More money in the coffer for Christmas House!

Now I must go and fetch my lady, he said and started toward the table.

Millie and Gert, along with everyone else in the room, watched as George bent low over Sylvia and whispered in her ear.

Sylvia jumped up, knocking her chair to the floor. Really, George! Her face was bright red. She stuffed her sewing project into her craft bag and hurried out the door without looking back or saying another word. The volunteers snickered and some made cat calls. Way to go, George! Woo Hoo, King of the Den strikes out again.

She loves me, you know she does. It’s just a matter of time till she figures it out. George smiled, touched his forehead in a mock salute, and went back to the Lion’s Den.

See, Gert? Millie gestured toward the Lion’s Den. We even have live entertainment here at Christmas House.

Millie ended Gert’s tour at the sorting table where she took a basket of broken toys and placed it on the seat of her walker. Want to see the Lion’s Den? Millie smiled at Gert. They walked out the French doors and turned left. A plaque on the closed door read:

The Lion’s Den

Knock Before Entering

We always roar and sometimes bite!

Millie pounded on the door and looked at Gert. Most of these guys are half deaf but refuse to wear their hearing aids. Without waiting for an answer, she jiggled the door knob then opened the door.

Keep your shirt on, we’re coming as fast as we can! growled one of the lions. Millie grinned at Gert.

Oh, Millie. Sorry, I didn’t know it was you. George opened the door. Four other Lions strained their necks to see the visitors. Millie turned her walker around, and George took the toy basket.

By the way, how’s that granddaughter of yours? George asked Millie. My grandson was visiting me a few days ago, and we got to talking about when he and Vicki were in the high school orchestra. Do you think she would be interested in playing here sometime?

Well, I don’t know if she can play anymore, George. Her former fiancé didn’t like classical music or her spending time practicing, so she hasn’t played in a long time. It’s been nearly two years since they broke up and I’m not sure she’s really over him yet.

Yeah, I remember, now that you mention it. Tell her from me, not to moon over that rascal. Better she knows what a louse he is now, rather than three kids from now.

I agree, George, however, I don’t think she sees it that way. But I’ll tell Vicki you asked about her.

Millie spent the rest of the day at Christmas House. She and Doris checked on the order for the Fire Department Benevolence Committee. Millie delivered clothes that needed mending to a lady on the second floor. Then there was a squabble between volunteers in the sorting area that needed Millie’s intervention. After that, she helped Alma restart the glove she was trying to knit. Through it all, reveries of Jack’s visit flitted among Millie’s thoughts as last night’s Big Band selections played continuously in the background of her consciousness. She was exhausted, trying to focus on everyone’s problems while her mind just wanted to think of Jack.

When supper was over, Millie excused herself from the after-dinner gathering in the TV area. No stopping to chat with the staff at the nurses’ station or checking on any of her bed bound friends. She hurried to her room and closed the door. Surely Jack would come back tonight, and they could finish their dance.

3

M ILLIE DUG THROUGH the chest of drawers and pulled out her prettiest pajamas. As she hurried through her bedtime routines, she noticed her reflection in the bathroom mirror. Why am I still shocked every time I see that old woman looking back at me ? She stuck her tongue out at her reflection and turned off the light. Last night when Jack came, she was young.

Millie climbed into bed and pushed the button to raise the head all the way up. She adjusted her blanket and grabbed a book from the bedside table. Maybe she’d get sleepy if she read for awhile. The sooner she got to sleep, the sooner Jack would be back.

A few pages into her book Millie heard a knock before Vicki entered the room. Hey, Grammy, why are you in bed already?

Hey, yourself, Vicki, dear. Come on in. Turn that chair around and get comfortable. Did you bring your knitting?

I brought your books and yarn. The stuff you wanted me to get last week. Sandra said you slept late today. And now you’ve gone to bed early. Are you sick? Vicki stood next to Millie’s bed and studied her face.

Millie rolled her eyes. I sure must be a creature of habit! I just slept a little later than usual. That’s all. Can’t an old lady sleep late every once in a while? Or get in her PJ’s earlier than usual? Millie pointed to the chair. Please. Have a seat. She smiled. So, how are you, Vicki? How’s school going?

OK. It’s a challenge to keep the attention of a bunch of second graders, but it is fun most of the time.

Last Saturday was Jessica’s bridal shower, wasn’t it? Millie closed her book and laid it on the bedside table. I expect you enjoyed seeing all your old friends. Was there a good turn out?

Yeah, nearly everyone showed up. I had to run out and get more ice while they played shower games. Which was good; I don’t like to play games. Anyway, Jessica shouldn’t have to buy much. She got almost everything in her registry. Vicki’s voice trailed off as she lowered her head and fidgeted with her hands. Millie waited.

"I felt like a stranger, Grammy. They’re all married now. Every conversation was about husbands, houses,