Miracle at Register Three
Nan shivered. Relentless snows pelted her
sleepy Ohio River town. Barge traffic slowed to cranky fits
and starts. On the banks and up into the West Virginia hills,
sleet turned into brown sludge then froze into jagged piles.
When attempting to drive any route, she faced other hapless
drivers, equally freaked, who careened over ice-slicked
asphalt like steel pinballs.
White-knuckle driving, fired up adrenalin,
iced nerves—a sure recipe for road rage. The thought
of crashing into people whose frostbitten tempers threatened
their sanity made her cringe.
Her heart was Grinched.
In desperation she asked her girl at Hairport
Express, “Brenda, what do you do?”
Brenda stared at Nan’s glum reflection
in the mirror. “Oh, honey, I go shopping. You just
run over there to the supermarket and take a whirl through
the bakery. That’ll fix you.”
From Thanksgiving well into the new year,
grocery shopping turned into a daily pursuit. When plow-‘n-salt
trucks fell behind the eight, ten, even twelve inch snows,
she walked. Comfort foods became new best friends. Mac’
and Cheese, Li’l Roundies, and Mom’s Kreem Krullers
overflowed her plastic basket.
By the end of January, now ready to peel wallpaper
with her teeth, she grew into a bread-junky: French baguettes,
rustic multigrain, and crusted Italian loaves to go with
the fifteen pounds of spaghetti she had cooked. Hawaiian
rolls, biscuits, waffles, pitas, corn bread, and plenty
of pancakes, including buckwheat, teased her into temporary
bliss. She couldn’t get enough maple syrup, butter—and
cheese!
The snow got higher. Her pants tighter.
She told Brenda, “I’ve eaten about
eighty thousand carbs, but I still feel blah. And now guilty!”
“Blame it on the Snow Devil, honey.”
Brenda waved her scissors at Nan’s face. “He’ll
make you crazy.”
“What’ll I do?” Nan wailed.
“Chocolate! You’ll never make it
through February without it.”
One grim afternoon on the day, St. Valentine’s,
sullen grey skies smothered Nan’s hope for spring.
Or love. She trudged through dirty slush to buttress her
chocolate supply. With itching finger she grabbed fistfuls
of Butterscotch Crackles, Raisin Cane Clusters (dark chocolate),
and Razzle-Dazzles to pile atop walnut fudge and a mound
of peanut butter cups.
Taking pity on her, that capricious arrow-slinging
Cupid finally decided to cut Nan a break.
Just ahead in the checkout line stood Adonis,
dressed in a denim jacket, pressed jeans, and suede boots.
Better yet, black hair, silvering at the temples, framed
his tanned and
chiseled face. His silver-streaked hair swept
back into a pony tail to reveal at least a carat diamond
stud in his left earlobe. Edging to his side, Nan stole
a glance at his face; yep, black-lashed blue eyes! A living,
breathing Romance Novel Heart Throb!
Nearly fainting, Nan inched even closer. Her
heart kicked into “now we’re talking” gear.
For a supermarket fantasy aswirl in her brain, he had it
all.
But wait! On the counter he set two huge bouquets
of red roses and a sheet cake with the word “LOVE”
in red, emblazoned on a field of creamy white frosting.
He smiled at the cashier and handed her two crisp fifty
dollar bills. Man with cash and a winter tan!
As he left the store, trailing his golden
aura of tender devotion, Nan’s and the cashier’s
gazes followed him. Nan sighed. The two women turned their
puppy eyes to each other and burst into laughter.
Her happy heart pounding, Nan declared, “Mr.
Romance—sighted right here in checkout—Today!”
With arms flung wide she cried, “Can spring be far
behind?”
The cashier grinned. “Amen, sister.”
L. N. Passmore
 |
|
L. N. Passmore bids you to
come visit Lisnafaer and her other green worlds.
|
|
 |
