For a Moment's Time

By Joelie

Moving upstate New York seem to be a good choice for widow, and grandmother, Carly Gannon, when a situation presented itself, which included her new friend Jonathan, and which she could not have resolved at that particular moment, she decided upon a getaway weekend, to a Bed and Breakfast in New Jersey, hoping to find a solution before heading back home, but than, out of the clear blue sky, she experiences another conflicting dilemma, after she meets Gable, the gift shops proprietor, whose elder sister, Victoria, manager of the Inn, is informed of their close relationship, disapproves, and takes it upon herself to separate them. Will all the adversity Carly encounters unfold into a happy ending?

• Language: English
• Publisher: WestBow Press
• Release date: Nov 22, 2016
• ISBN: 9781512763515

Joelie

Joelie has written and directed Christmas plays for her church for many years. This is her first published work of fiction. She writes to encourage faith and hope in the body of Christ. A homemaker, wife and mother, she enjoys reading, drawing, crocheting, gardening and cooking. Come and experience with the characters of, ‘For A Moments Time’ as they journey through how God reveals to them through their trials, increasing their faith, restoring hope, and mending relationships, showing Gods unconditional love.

Book preview

Chapter 1

J uly brought with it a welcoming beginning for Mrs. Carly Gannon as she sat in her rocker on the front porch of her new home, browsing through a magazine. The jingling of a bicycle bell caused her to look up to see her young friend, Ty Munro, turn into her driveway. He leaned his bike against the tree and hurried up the steps onto her porch. Ty lived with his parents a few blocks up the street. His family had befriended Mrs. Gannon when she moved into the neighborhood, welcoming her as a member of their home church.

Good morning, Mrs. Gannon, he said.

Good morning, Ty. Aren’t you way too early for work? She fanned herself with a lovely Asian hand fan, hoping to relieve some of the sweltering morning heat.

Yes I am but with a motive, he said, grinning.

Oh?

Well, you know Mom works part-time, and Dad is a freelance carpenter, and neither of them are ever home at lunchtime, so I was wondering if it’s all right with you if I pick up a couple of sandwiches from the deli and come here?

Sounds like a plan. I’ll put out the lemonade and cream soda. Good choice?

You bet! See you at noontime! Ty hurried down the porch steps, got on his bike, and waved to her as he rode away.

Mrs. Gannon had plenty of time for a brisk walk to her favorite spot in the woods before her lunch date with Ty.

The deli where Ty worked during his summer break from college was exceptionally busy that day. Had it not been for Lou, his manager, who noticed that Ty had been working ten minutes into his lunch break, he would have missed his visit with Mrs. Gannon. Ty swiftly biked it to her house.

Mrs. Gannon had the soft drinks and fresh fruit on the table on her front porch when Ty arrived. He leaned his bike against the tree, grabbed the sandwiches from the basket on his bike, and walked up the porch steps.

Sorry I’m late, Mrs. Gannon. The place was jumping! He sat down at the table across from her, placed the sandwiches on the table, and suddenly realized something he had overlooked. Oops! I forgot to ask you what kind of sandwich you wanted. I sure hope you like pastrami on rye with mustard.

My favorite. How did you know? She chuckled.

Great minds think alike!

They were shaded by the roof from the hot scorching sun as they enjoyed their lunch and welcomed the sporadic, invigorating cool breeze.

I’ll save the cream soda for later. The lemonade looks too refreshing to pass up right now, he said.

I know. It’s my favorite. This heat calls for lots of fluids. What better drink than lemonade? Watermelon is also great in this weather, she said, refilling his glass.

Watermelon, Mrs. Gannon, is good anytime. What a treat! The cold, refreshing, crunchy bite of watermelon quenched his thirst as he chomped on the slice until it was all gone. He glanced at his watch and relaxed on the deck chair.

Observing him, she asked, Date this evening?

Date? Who me? No. No date, he assured her.

No one special? She smiled.

Not really. At least she doesn’t know it. I don’t think I’m sharp enough for her to focus her attention on me.

How do you know? Have you asked her out?

Well, now, there’s my problem.

How’s that? she inquired politely, amused at his reaction to her question.

Asking. The truth is I’m chicken. I can’t even work up enough courage to say hi to her, let alone carry on a conversation with her, he confessed.

Perhaps it’s confidence you’re lacking, she surmised.

It’s confidence spelled, c—h—i—c—k-e—n, he substantiated.

I can’t believe that. You don’t seem to have a problem communicating with me. She chuckled.

It’s different with you. I mean—

Never mind. I get your meaning; it’s like talking to your mom. However, this young girl, what’s her name?

Aggie Neidleman, he voiced with pride and a deep sigh.

You like Aggie, don’t you? She ate the last bite of her sandwich, wiped her mouth with her napkin, and pushed her plate to the side. With her elbows on the table, she rested her chin on her hands. It’s as plain as the nose on your face.

How come you can see that and she can’t? he asked and slumped back in his chair.

Let me give you an update on girls; none of us are mind readers. Believe it or not, we’re much like you. What can you tell me about her?

Only the obvious. She’s very pretty, has a lovely singing voice, is editor of the school’s newspaper, volunteers wherever she’s needed, and although we had a few classes together in college last semester, I’m invisible to her.

Okay. Now that we’ve established the fact that you’re ‘chicken,’ why not take the initiative and ask her out to lunch? Why not get down to the bottom of this instead of assuming?

Because I know she’ll turn me down, he whined.

Look at it this way, Ty. You won’t be in a worse predicament than you are now. And besides, it’s all speculation on your part. Chances are she might have noticed you and feels the same way you do. Don’t miss this opportunity; it might be the right time. I suggest you open the door and introduce yourself.

Easier said than done.

Ty lay in bed that night contemplating Mrs. Gannon’s advice. I suppose I should be audacious enough to approach Aggie first. It may be old-fashioned, but it still works. What could happen except for lightning striking me … repeatedly? He rolled over onto his side, pulled the covers over his head, and whispered, I need a miracle.

On his bike to work the following morning, Ty stopped by to see Mrs. Gannon, who was sitting on her front porch steps, reading a magazine.

Good morning, Mrs. Gannon.

Good morning, Ty. Off to work? She fanned herself with her hands and announced, It’s another scorcher.

Muggy! Thank God for air-conditioning! Say, Mrs. Gannon, how about a meatball hero for lunch today? My treat.

No, I don’t think so, but thank you anyway.

Check out the menu I brought you from the deli, Mrs. Gannon. I’ll bring you anything on it, all fresh, I guarantee.

Oh, I believe you. How about eggplant Parmesan on club? I’ve had theirs before, and it’s to die for! She rolled her eyes and continued looking over the menu.

I’d order the same thing, but Mom’s making it for dinner tonight. Twice a day? She’ll clobber me with a wet noodle. I’ll decide what I’m having while I’m ordering yours.

Noticing the time, she exclaimed, Oh, Ty, you better get going! I don’t want to be the reason you’re late for work. She handed him the menu.

Oh, you can keep that, Mrs. Gannon. We hand them out to all our customers. He rushed down the steps and got on his bike. See you later!

Mrs. Gannon watched as he rode down the street, two blocks toward the deli.

The sun was at its peak when Ty arrived with the sandwiches. Mrs. Gannon had brought out an old-fashioned, black, oscillating floor fan onto the porch, hoping it would make a difference. She whispered a short prayer of thanks for the food, and they ate their lunch while the fan’s cool breeze made the heat of the afternoon somewhat tolerable.

Like I said earlier, they prepare the best eggplant parmesan. She took another bite of her sandwich. Mmm.

They ate in silence until they were almost done. Before taking the last bite of his meatball hero, Ty looked up from his plate and asked a question he had been curious about since he met Mrs. Gannon.

Mrs. Gannon, is there anyone special in your life? Are you seeing someone? I mean … Oh, I’m sorry. It’s none of my business. I’m sorry, Mrs. Gannon.

She lifted her glass and took a sip. Then she placed the glass down on the table, gazed up at him, and replied, No.

I didn’t mean to pry, Mrs. Gannon, he said with downcast eyes.

That’s okay. I don’t mind telling you. Besides, I have no secrets. My life is an open book. As you can see, there’s no one special in my life after my dear departed husband.

I’ve never heard it phrased that way. Departed. Sounds strange, you know, like he walked out on you or something, he said, blushing.

Mrs. Gannon laughed. "You’re right. I just don’t like the words died, deceased, expired. It just doesn’t fit a Christian’s description of someone who has left this earth and is in the presence of the Lord to say that he or she is dead. Besides, we both know that God is not the God of the dead but of the living. Right? And we know that eternity begins the moment we accept Christ as our personal Savior. Departed, called home, with the saints—to me, that sounds appropriate and less painful to the ones left behind, still on their journeys. So, getting back to your original question, Ty, I choose to remain single. I will tell you confidentially, though, that someone from our church—whom I hardly know, and I won’t divulge who—asked me out on a date. But I turned him down." She hadn’t told anyone else at the church about the dinner invitation, but she trusted Ty.

Curious, he leaned forward. Not your type, huh?

Oh, no, it wasn’t that at all. He seems like a fine gentleman. The truth is, my goodness, Ty, the thought of dating hasn’t even entered my mind.

Perhaps the right person hasn’t presented himself yet?

Oh, Ty, really. I’m flattered that you should even mention such a subject. I’ve been married for many years and am now widowed in my early sixties. Time has left its mark on me. I’m content with my life as is; besides, I don’t think I’m ready for a serious relationship, she lightheartedly remarked.

Well, I’m ready! Only, I’m not as suave as the popular guys that hang around with Aggie.

I doubt popularity has anything to do with Aggie noticing you. You’ll be amazed at how just being yourself will affect her interest in you, so don’t complicate it with a figment of your imagination. She smiled.

My problem is that I get tongue-tied whenever I even look at Aggie. I’m that guy who, when he approaches a girl he’s fond of and realizes she’s focused her attention on him, suddenly turns into a statue. His mind may be functioning in a normal capacity, but at the same time, some kind of force within him paralyzes his tongue from uttering a word! Ty concluded with a loud sigh of frustration.

Chapter 2

O ne evening after dinner, Ty looked in on his dad, who was working in the basement on a project for his wife, Marcy, and Ty brought up a conversation he was curious about, concerning his uncle Jonathan who lived a couple of towns away and never married.

So, Dad, how’s Uncle Jonathan?

Jonathan? He’s good, son. As a matter of fact, he’s coming for a visit this weekend. Mr. Munro examined his work, then looked at his son. What’s the sudden interest in your uncle?

Oh, just wondering if he’s seeing anyone, he said.

Nah, he’s not interested in anyone special, Mr. Munro said and returned to his project, when suddenly, he looked up from his work and stared at his son. Curiosity got the better of him, so he put his work aside and gave him his full attention. What’s on your mind, son?

Well, you know Mrs. Gannon down the street?

Yeah, yeah, she attends your mom’s ladies’ group once a month, Mr. Munro recollected.

May I ask a favor, Dad? It sounded more like a plea than a question.

A smile emerged across Mr. Munro’s face. Sure, son.

Would it be all right if Mom invited Mrs. Gannon over for dinner when Uncle Jonathan visits?

Squinting, his eyes focused on his son, he said, Let me get this straight. Are you trying to set my brother up with Mrs. Gannon? When Mr. Munro caught on to what his son had in mind, uncontrollable laughter took over. When he calmed down and wiped his tears, he sat down on the stool. "Oh, boy! If your uncle had any idea of what you’re proposing to do, he’d skin you alive! Why, even I avoid talking to him about the opposite sex. If there’s one thing he’s apprehensive about, it’s a woman rearranging his lifestyle. Why do you think he’s still a bachelor?"

But, Dad, I’m not asking him to marry her. What’s the harm in him meeting her? he said with a shrug.

Okay, okay. How would you like it if your mom and I meddled in your love life?

Come on, Dad. Uncle Jonathan and Mrs. Gannon are mature adults. He sighed and rolled his eyes.

My point exactly. Mrs. Gannon might resent meeting him when Jonathan doesn’t ask to see her again. I know my brother, and I doubt that there’s a woman out there who can attract his attention long enough for him to dedicate his life to, but okay, son, I’ll talk to your mom about it. Mr. Munro smiled, nodded, and returned to his project.

The weekend arrived, and Jonathan was unpacking his clothes in the guest room. Before heading for work that morning, Ty went by his room and peeked inside.

Hi, Uncle Jonathan.

Hey, Ty. What’s happening in your life these days? he asked as he hung his shirts in the closet.

College, work, a lovely girl named Aggie, an elderly lady friend, and a journal I’ve been keeping.

Ahem! Whoa! Back up a bit. Did I hear you say an elderly lady friend? He stared at his nephew.

Yeah. Her house is just a few blocks from here. Mom has her over once a month with the ladies’ group from church. And, may I add, she’s very nice-looking.

Jonathan sat on the bed and bowed his head. Please tell me that you’re not trying to set me up with this elderly friend of yours. I mean, just because I’m your uncle and single. He lifted his head and looked at Ty and hoped that his stay at his brother’s home wouldn’t mean that he would have to … hide?

Me? I wouldn’t do that to you, Uncle Jonathan. Without delay, he added, All I’m asking is for you to meet her.

No, Jonathan replied, uninterested. He continued unpacking his clothes and placing them in the chest drawers.

But … Ty pleaded.

Jonathan immediately turned around and looked up at his nephew, who was a head taller than he, and placed his hand on his shoulder. A college man and you don’t know the meaning of ‘no’? He gently led him out the door. This idea of yours might work for one of your young friends, but I’m past that stage. Cupid doesn’t knock on my door anymore.

That afternoon after work, Ty turned onto Mrs. Gannon’s driveway. When he didn’t see her on the porch, he walked up the front steps and knocked on her door. When she answered it, he perceived a disturbance in her behavior, when she shook her head in disappointment.

Mrs. Gannon, is there anything wrong? he asked, concerned.

Your mom telephoned to invite me to dinner this evening and mentioned her brother-in-law who’s visiting this weekend. Did you, by any chance, have anything to do with this, Ty?

I … I thought if … that is …

What were you thinking? She looked at him, confused.

He started to explain. I just wanted you to meet …

Yes, well … Mrs. Gannon couldn’t believe that she was having this discussion with him.

Why not come to dinner, Mrs. Gannon, and meet my uncle. He’s really a nice guy.

No, Ty, I cannot, she responded in disappointment.

But why not? Aren’t you feeling well?

I’m fine, Ty. You, of all people, know exactly how I feel about dating. When your mom called, I was surprised to hear that she was inviting me to dinner because you wanted me to meet your uncle. You know, Ty, had it been just you and your parents, I would have accepted your mom’s invitation in a heartbeat, but seriously, Ty, matchmaking?

Before turning in that evening, Ty passed by Jonathan’s bedroom and noticed his light was still on, so he knocked.

Yes? Jonathan responded.

It’s me, Uncle Jonathan. May I come in?

Come on in, Ty. What’s up? Jonathan was sitting on the window seat reading a magazine.

Mrs. Gannon. Ty entered the room and slumped down next to his uncle. I thought I was doing the right thing in having you two meet. But I guess I messed up.

How? Is she giving you a hard time? He rose from his seat, rolled up the magazine in his hand, and pointed it at his nephew. Don’t do her footwork for her, Ty. Let the ole gal go gallivanting elsewhere in pursuit of her mate.

You’ve got her all wrong, Uncle Jonathan; she isn’t like that at all. Mrs. Gannon feels the same way as you do. She turned down Mom’s invitation. I surmise you guys know what you’re doing. He nodded his head in disappointment, rose from his seat, and walked out the door, leaving his uncle pondering over their conversation.

Jonathan was having a restless night as his nephew’s words echoed inside his head. She turned down Mom’s invitation. He rolled onto his side, then rolled onto his back until he sat up and whispered into the night, What nerve!

Frustrated because he had been rejected by an elderly woman, Jonathan couldn’t sleep in late the following morning, so, he went for a brisk walk before breakfast. As he passed by the houses on his left and on his right, he wondered which one belonged to Mrs. Gannon. All it took were two women having breakfast on their front porch, giggling as loud as day. They waved to him, which compelled him to take off like a bandit. By the time he stopped to catch his breath, he found himself surrounded by beautiful, tall fir trees, not too far from a creek. Observing his surroundings, he gazed upon a For Sale sign on the front lawn of a lovely cottage. Grinning from ear to ear, he promptly turned around and walked back to his brother’s house.

Jonathan walked in on his brother, Conrad, who had returned from a job and was in the basement checking out his project for his wife.

Always making stuff for the house, eh, Conrad? What is it this time?

A storage bench for Marcy. She wants to put it at the foot of the bed. He focused on his project.

Oh, I see. Nice job. Man, having the right tools sure saves a lot of time, doesn’t it? Staining it black?

Yeah, she wants it to match the end tables in the bedroom. I made those also, if you remember.

That’s going to look sharp. Say, Conrad, I noticed a For Sale sign in front of a cottage outside of town. Do you have any idea who’s selling it? Where do I go to inquire about it?

A cottage? Conrad stared up at the ceiling, frowning as he scratched his head. You jogged way out there? What caused you to jog that far out of town?

A wave.

Huh?

In a state of aggravation, Jonathan asked, So, do you know who the owner is?

Take it easy, little brother; let me think. Let’s see … yup! Mr. Rankin. After his wife passed on, he couldn’t stay there with all those memories. Actually, Marcy could’ve helped you, but the owner is selling it himself. Conrad examined his work.

Got a number where I can reach him?

He owns the pharmacy on Main Street. Just walk right in and inquire about the place. Conrad was engrossed in his work.

It’ll be neat to finally own some property, he remarked.

Suddenly, Conrad looked up from his work. Didn’t know you were thinking of selling your condo.

It sold last week, and everything’s in storage. I know most people do the opposite, but I guess I’m backward in my old age. Besides, the cottage isn’t too far from town, and wait until you see the view out back!

Well, that’s a step in another direction for you. Wait a minute, Jonathan. If you’re old, what does that make me? He gave Jonathan a sidelong glance.

That would be … antique! Jonathan headed out the door as quickly as his legs could move, dodging the objects Conrad hurled at him.

During dinner that evening, Jonathan announced his ownership of the cottage. Just needs a little work.

You know where the tools are. Borrow whatever you need, Conrad offered.

"I’ve been storing things up in