18
Last Chance Romance
Judge Acker’s hand at the small of her back guided Nellie into the warm interior of Tuckaway’s Seafood Restaurant. They sat at a small table for two where they could look out over the Rogue River while they chatted companionably.
“I had no idea this was here.” Nellie slipped a napkin onto her lap and looked over the elegant menu.
“My little secret.” The judge winked. “I recommend the Chinook salmon.” Two wine glasses and a dusty green bottle appeared. “And a glass of Riesling perhaps?”
Nellie’s eyebrows shot up.
“Another little secret. The owners keep a few bottles from my private collection on hand for me.”
“You are full of secrets, Judge Acker.” The waiter splashed a small amount of sweet wine into her goblet and filled the judge’s glass. The judge reached across the table and patted Nellie’s hand. “You know, our professional relationship is coming to an end. From now on, please to call me Willem. And I hope I may call you Nellie.”
Nellie raised her glass. “To your retirement, then. Willem.”
The waiter lit the votive candle at the center of the table, and two plates of hearty grilled salmon steaks with crispy skin arrived. Across the room, a tuxedoed gentleman took a seat at a baby grand piano, and, before long, strains of a Brahms sonata gentled the air.
“Have you thought of retiring, Nellie?” Rich juices from the fish pomaded Willem’s generous lips. Nellie drew her napkin across her mouth and dabbed away fatty residue that once protected the king salmon in the cold river.
“No. I would have no idea what to do with myself. What are your plans?”
He held up a finger while he finished chewing a buttered roll. “Bread and butter! I read an article in the Tribune that says fat is our dietary hard coal, and bread the perfect vehicle for butter.” He smacked his lips. “But to your question. My wife and I always planned to travel after I retired, but you know she died a few years ago.”
“Yes, I heard that. I’m so sorry for your loss.”
A few fish bones and curls of skin were all that remained on their plates. The waiter collected the used dinnerware and reset the table for dessert. “Coffee and cake?” he asked the judge.
“Please.” As soon the waiter left them alone, Willem leaned forward. “I’m known for being direct. I’m sure you’re aware.”
Oh my. Nellie glanced at his wine glass. It was still half full. Whatever he was about to say, it wouldn’t be the wine talking. “You are forthcoming; I will say that.”
The waiter poured rich black coffee with a flourish and set down two small dishes of pineapple upside-down cake.
“Oh, my favorite.” The judge rubbed the palms of his hands together. “Is this the recipe?”
“That won the Hawaiian Pineapple Company award?” the waiter asked? “The very same I’m proud to say.”
Willem’s eyes grew even bigger and he popped a gooey pineapple chunk into this mouth. Cake crumbs danced on his lips as he returned his attention to Nellie.
“So, I will come right to the point.” He jabbed the air with his fork. “I find myself in need of a traveling companion.”
His words hung in the air while Nellie tried to digest their meaning. “A traveling companion. What do you mean?” Like a series of short films, several scenarios cycled through her imagination. An assistant to handle details? An attending nurse? He looked well enough. Surely he was not suggesting they travel together as friends, or … Oh my.
“I’ve been alone too long,” she heard him say when she pulled her head out of the newsreel. He made his case, laid out logical arguments, and supported them with evidence. They’d known each other for years, were alike in so many ways, could be a comfort to each other in their …”
“Old age.” Nellie finished his sentence.
“Of course, for you and me that is a long way off. Admittedly, a longer way off for you than for me.” He pushed his chair away from the table, stretched his long legs out in front of him, and leaned back, cradling his head in this hands. “Though I expect we would have many good years together.”
Nellie did not know whether to laugh or to reach across the table and slap the old codger. Her face must have shown her confusion because his expression softened. He sat up straight and reached across the table for her hand.
“Forgive me. I can see I have not made myself clear. Nellie, will you do me the honor of becoming my wife?”
Years of experience in Willem’s courtroom told her he did not like to have his time wasted, but this was Nellie’s first marriage proposal. John had never properly asked her; he had just taken for granted that she would honor her parents’ wishes. Surely this time she was due some cross-examination.
“So, we aren’t discussing a business arrangement.”
He chuckled. “No, Nellie, I have too much respect for you, and for myself, to suggest any arrangement short of a proper marriage.” As if reading her thoughts, he continued, “Proper in every sense of the word.”
“And when was it that you came to feel about me in that way? Until this moment, I have had no indication.”
“I’ve had my eye on you for years.”
Nellie tilted her head but held her tongue.
The judge cleared his throat. “Of course I mean the last few years following my wife’s death.” He made his case. “You are an attractive woman with a good head on your shoulders. I am a wealthy man, not unattractive, women who would love to be in your shoes tell me.”
Oh how Nellie wished he had stopped talking before he got to the heart of his intention. Like the young man of privilege who had chosen Helen, the judge wished to bestow himself on a less fortunate soul who would be grateful for the attention. Eustace had done her a favor when he failed to fulfill her dream. Now she would do the same for the judge.
“Willem, you are indeed a most attractive man, and I am honored by your proposal. Regretfully, I cannot accept.” She closed her eyes briefly. What possible excuse could she make? Opal’s face floated before her. She opened her eyes. “I have family obligations that would prevent me from devoting myself to you in the way you”—she fished for words—“deserve.”
Dipping his chin in acknowledgment of her generous act of self-sacrifice, Willem reached for the check the proprietor had set down by his elbow. He took a few moments to inspect the bill for errors and then raised his eyes to hers. “I was not aware you had a personal situation.”
Becoming uncharacteristically chatty, Nellie prattled on about a daughter in need of her help and a granddaughter in need of her guidance. When the judge dropped her at the door of the inn, he reached for her hands and held them between his. “Thank you for your delightful company this evening, Mrs. Scott. I am disappointed. Yes. But I want you to know how much I have valued your friendship over the years. I hope we will remain friends.”
She assured him they would.
After retiring to her room and preparing herself for bed, Nellie poured her thoughts out in a letter to Jessie.
Dear Jessie,
Tonight I turned down a marriage proposal from a judge, a widower who wished to spend his remaining years in my company. In his retirement, we would have traveled the world together. He is a wealthy gentleman, highly respected in his profession. Even though I vowed never to remarry, I must admit that for a moment, I considered accepting his proposal. Then it hit me. Love was not part of the bargain.
I do not consider myself a romantic. Indeed, I have always prided myself on being a realist. Perhaps love would have grown, but that has not been my experience. I have achieved far more in life than I ever imagined, but I find myself regretting I know so little about love. If it is not a yearning that can be satisfied by proper attention, or a contract two parties enter into for mutual benefit, then what is it?
Looking back, I think I have only seen true love once. Strangely, it was between an old soldier in ill health and an ancient Indian outcast. I saw between them a trust and respect I have never seen before or since. They took joy in meeting each other’s needs. They seemed to complete each other. How odd that these two scraggly people should come to mind as the only illustration I have of love.
I used Opal and Leone as my excuse for turning down the judge. As it happens, Leone is becoming quite a handful, and Opal really could use my help. Maybe it’s time for me to stop traveling and stay closer to home.
Fondly,
Nellie