Free Forgotten Boxes by Becki Willis

rise.
    “No, stay. Now it’s my turn to tell you a story.”
    She sank back onto the bench, eager to hear what he had to say.
    Carl Upjohn cleared his throat and stared down at the package
in his hands. Charity waited patiently for him to begin his tale.
    “My father was a chiropractor, just as his father was before
him. There was never any question that I would follow in their footsteps and take
over the family practice. By the time I was twenty-one, my entire future had been
mapped out, including the woman I would marry.” He cleared his throat again. Obviously,
it was an emotional story for him to tell, even after all these years. “Marissa
Colburn was a beautiful young woman I had known most of my life. Our fathers were
old friends and our families vacationed together in the summers at Kennebunkport.
Marissa and I shared the same background, the same values, the same goals for the
future. Or we were supposed to, at any rate.” Carl Upjohn shifted his gaze to the
trellis of roses at the end of the porch. He stared with unseeing eyes as he admitted,
“You see, I didn’t want to become a chiropractor. And even though I loved Marissa,
I wasn’t sure I liked her. She could be very … goal-oriented, very image
conscious. It very much mattered to her what other people thought.
    “I ignored my reservations and decided to propose to her anyway.
She was part of my predestined future, after all. I knew I couldn’t propose without
a ring, not to a girl like Marissa, so I found a suitable ring in St. Johnsbury
and ordered it fit for her finger. I planned an elaborate romantic dinner, telling
her I had something important to discuss with her. Come to think of it, I all but
announced my intentions to propose.” He chuckled at his own foolishness.
    “As the big day grew closer, the ring still had not arrived.
I called the store and they assured me it had been shipped and was scheduled for
immediate delivery. When it still had not arrived on the big day, I knew I had to
have a back-up plan. I decided to look for a smaller cocktail ring or perhaps a
necklace, something to give her until the ring actually arrived. So I found a jewelry
store in Montpelier and walked inside.”
    The man in the wheelchair collected a deep breath in his lungs
and let it go on a slow exhale. His voice turned reverent as he relived the moment
he described to her. “There was a young woman behind the counter, waiting on another
customer. She had hair the color of a new penny and more freckles than I had ever
seen in my life. And she had a huge, wide, beautiful smile that was almost as big
as she was. So right there in the middle of a crowded jewelry store, on the day
I was prepared to propose to another woman, I took one look at that little redheaded
pixie and fell immediately in love.”
    Caught up in the gentle cadence of his voice, Charity was mesmerized
with his story. “What did you do?” she whispered, enthralled in suspense.
    Carl Upjohn chuckled. “I wandered around the store, waiting for
her to be free. Every time another salesperson came up, I told them I was just looking,
until finally she came up and asked. That’s when I discovered her eyes were
green, the same shade as spring’s new grass. And in that instant, I knew I wanted
to spend the rest of my life looking into those eyes. And I wanted to see them in
my children, and my grandchildren.”
    Goosebumps of delight prickled Charity’s skin. What an enchanting
love story! She was, after all, a romantic at heart, even if her own love life was
sadly lacking.
    “I couldn’t very well tell her the real reason I was there. I
pretended to be looking for a gift for my sister. She was so easy to talk to and
our personalities were suited so well. I lingered at one display after another,
monopolizing her time. Her manager came over several times, thinking to speed things
along, but each time I assured him I was making multiple purchases.” Again, he chuckled.
“That little excursion