Old Fashioned Romance

Kirsty had become used to coming home and searching through her pile of mail, most of which were bills, to find a thick envelope andressed to her in deep blue ink.

They’d come to her once, sometimes twice, a week, and provided comfort – particularly after a chaotic day at work such as today. It would take half an hour for Kirsty to read them, nestled in her comfortable armchair, armed with a glass of red wine, while she slowly absorbed the words scrawled acorss the page. With each letter, she felt herself falling deeper in love with the sender, his kind, gentle, descriptive, and almost loving words comforting her in a way no living man she’d been with had.

Jared was sweet, caring, compassionate and intriguing. His letters opened her up to h is world – a very different one to hers.

In her replies, she felt comfortable, relaxed and at ease – as if she could tell him anything. It felt like the two had known each other forever.

And they’d never even met.

It all started when Kirsty’s mother had rang her one Sunday morning, quite spoiling Kirsty’s peaceful and week – long anticipate routine of sitting down, doing nothing – while thinking about doing something.

‘I’ve found the perfect man for you!’

That had been the most common exclaimation Kirsty’d heard her mother say for the past nine years. At twenty – nine, Mrs Fuller just couldn’t understand why her daughter showed no interest whatsoever in settling down and raising a family – particularly because, by that age, Mrs Fuller herself was managing a family of seven.

‘Where’d you find him this time?’ Kirsty had asked, inwardly groaning. After receiving these calls almost daily for so long, she’d learned to skip the enraged speech about her mother’s invasion of privacy – because it went through one ear and straight out the other.

‘Remember your Aunt Jill’s wedding your father and I attended last weekend? Well, this fine young man is a single’ – very strong emphasis here – ‘friend of your cousin’s. He’s a very well respected lawyer.’

‘He sound’s great, Mum.’ Kirsty said, trying, but failing, to sound enthusastic.

There was a slight pause. ‘The only problem is that he lives in New York.’

Great. Yet another set up by her mother. With a man on the other side of the globe.

This should be interesting, Kirsty thought.

‘But you’ve always wanted to go to New York, haven’t you, sweetie? So after you get to know one another….’

‘How am I going to get to know him, Mum? He lives on the other side of the world! What do you want me to do, fly out every other weekend?’

‘Of course not!’ Mrs Fuller huffed. ‘Then again, that’s not a bad idea…’

Kirsty sighed. ‘Mum, why are you telling me this?’

‘I gave him your address, honey.’

Kirsty cringed. Sometimes she could just kill her mother.

‘I told him all about you, and he seems to want to get to know you better. He’s very wealthy, you know. He could support you – you wouldn’t have to work at that rubbish newspaper anymore.

Kirsty groaned outloud this time. She worked as a reporter for the local newspaper, The Daily Times, and had been there for six years. Her mother had never approved of the job – which was one of the many reasons Kirsty loved it so much.

‘Expect a letter in the mail tomorrow, honey. He’s having it air mailed over.’

Sure enough, Mystery Wealthy Guy’s first letter arrived in the post the next day. His name was Jared, and he’d sent Kirsty a photo of himself. She had to admit that he was very good looking. He reminded her of a combination of Jensen Ackle’s chisled and masculine looks and Orlando Bloom’s open and inviting features.

Jared was a lawyer, had been since graduating from Havard ten years ago. He loved to read true crime and science fiction novels, and enjoyed watching a romantic comedy every now and than. Not that he’d ever admit that he was a true romantic.

At that, Kirsty had snorted. In her opinion, there was no such thing as a romantic guy anymore. They were all too old, taken or gay.

Despite her misgivings, she’d written back – and, in doing so, started a romantic love affair.

My Dear Kirsty,

It is raining today, and I just received your letter. It’s absolutely perfect weather to curl up by the fire with a mug of hot cocoa and a good book – or, in my case, a good letter.

I’m glad to see you like your work – just by reading your letters, I can tell that you have a wonderful and rare gift of putting thoughts and feelings into words. I admire anyone with the courage to pursue their passions – maybe that’s why I don’t enjoy my work as much as I thought.

My mother and father always pushed me into law; I would have rathered get into medicine – I have a particular weakness for sick, poor and defenceless children. In New York, it is unfortunate, but that is fairly common among our children.

By your letters, I can tell that your mother neglected to tell you that I have a son. He is four and a half. I hope that doesn’t scare you off too much, but I remember you saying in one of your previous letters that your dream job would be something to do with childcare.

His name is Aaron, and he’s very smart for his age (not that I’m biased!). I have been asked to enrol him in school at the beginning of next term, because many of the pre – school teachers believe that the level which he is currently in is beneath him. It’s obviously his mother’s genes coming out in him.

In case you’re wondering, painstakingly, that your mother may have misinformed you even further, let me assure you that I am most definitely single. Aaron’s mother died in a car crash when he was only six months. He barely remembers her, but I ensure that he has photos of her everywhere, and he watches the home videos that we made when he was first born at times.

I hope you don’t think of me as corny, but I keep all your letters, and read them at least once a week. They are of a great comfort to me, and every time I read them makes me wish even more that I could meet you. You are such a beautiful person, both inside and out.

I had better go now. The rain has finally stopped, and I want to post this off to you. I eagerly await your reply. Take care.

All my love,

Jared

Kirsty finished the letter, and folded it up carefully before slipping it into her box where she kept all his letters. Just when she’d been ready to give up on the idea of love and romance, she finds herself corresponding with a truly romantic guy – a guy that’d she’d never met: and one hand picked by her mother!

Delighted at the thought that Jared had opened up and told her the truth about his son, Kirsty felt inspired to write to him straight away.

Dear Jared,

Thank you for being so honest with me, and I am so sorry about Aaron’s mother. Were you married?

Reading your honest confession inspired me to share one of the greatest tragedies in my life – the reason why I haven’t fallen in love for quite some time.

My last serious relationship was just after high – school. Heath and I had been together for three years before I fell pregnant. It was only in my nine months of pregnancy that he became different, more remote. He was insanely jealous of the baby, owing to the fact that it would take most of my attention away from him. When the baby came, I thought everything would change, but he….We had a baby girl, and when she was five weeks old, Heath physically abused her. She was diagnoised with Cerebral Palsy and admitted to the Intensive Care Unit at Camperdown hospital. She didn’t survive.

So that’s my sad sob story. I haven’t been able to trust anyone since – much less a man.

Work has been hectic as usual – one wouldn’t think that so much could go on in a small town! But the biggest story as of late has been the updates on the suspected serial killings around the Northern Lakes region. The worst thing about work in the media is that the media absolutely thrives on any kind of news – especially the worst kind.

I really shouldn’t complain – it helps pay the bills. But apart from working at the paper (and I’ve never shared this with anyone – so tell someone and you’ll wish you’d never been born, Mister!!) I also enjoy writing. I write a lot of short stories (of the romantic kind – I’ve fooled myself into believing that there’s still hope. I blame it on the fairytales!!) I write as often as I can, and I really enjoy it. I’m actually writing a novel at the moment, which I am trying to get published. Foolish, I know...but I’ve taken a lot of courses on writing to study the industry and the craft, and feel a tad familiar with it. At least, more so than I was a couple of years ago. I’ve almost finished the book, so hopefully I can send it off for possible publication soon enough.

Anyway, I better get going in a minute. But I’d love to meet up…I just have to try to arrange some time off work, see if I can manage to get over there…or half way. It would be great!

Take care, and your boy sounds gorgeous!

Love

Kirsty

Two weeks later, it was Valentine’s Day. Feburary 14th was always a particularly hard day for Kirsty – for one thing, she was a complete cynic (who could blame her?) but it would also have been Charlotte’s birthday. Today she would have been twenty one.

But today was about to renew her thoughts about romance.

At about ten thirty, the usual rounds of the bunches of red roses were delivered to the office.

As Kirsty walked out to the photocopier, she caught a glimpse of the delivery guy – he was quite yummy to be truthful – and he looked almost familiar.

When he came towards her, carrying a single red rose, Kirsty was caughts completely unaware. Who in their right mind would send her a Valentine’s Day gift?

When the delievery guy lowered the rose, Kirsty gasped.

‘Jared?’

Questions floated around in her head – there was so much that she wanted to ask him…

But the seconds that it took for Kirsty to come up with a greeting that made sense in her head, Jared threw the rose down and grabbed her in a tight embrace, complete with a passionate kiss.

The world became a blur, and for the first time in years, Kirsty felt….just right.