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“So, Martie, you’re online dating?”
Clair Bell gave the retiree a very puzzled look. Martie Simpson did not seem like the type to swipe left or right...or in any direction, for that matter. In fact, directly over her bed in her studio apartment here at the Port Provident Retirement Community, Martie kept an 11x14 portrait of her being held in her late husband’s arms.
Martie laughed. “Oh, Clair, honey, no. I’m just playing games.”
Clair didn’t realize her eyes could stretch so wide. She could feel the skin in the corners straining to open even larger. “Martie, that’s not really smart. The internet is a crazy place. There are so many people who would try to take advantage of you.”
“Take advantage of me? Clair, what are you talking about? I’m just playing BuddyWords.”
Now Clair felt her eyes narrow until only a mere slit let light in to her pupils. “BuddyWords? The crossword puzzle game?”
Martie’s face broke into a grin. “That’s the one!”
“So you’re playing an online crossword puzzle game and you used it to invite someone to the Valentine dance here at the Retirement Community?”
Clair wanted to understand Martie, she truly did, but this was just downright baffling. When did Martie put down her crochet long enough to learn how to download an app?
“Well, sort of. The person I’ve been playing with is from here in Port Provident. That’s how we started playing together. I met him in the BuddyWords chat room.”
Clair clenched her jaw, hoping it would keep her from rolling her eyes. “You met him in the chat room? Okay, so what’s his name?”
Martie shrugged. “Bobby0612.”
“Martie, that’s not a real name. That’s a screenname. His last name is not Mr. Oh-Six-One-Two. He could be anyone. He could be a scammer trying to...I don’t know...get your Social Security check.”
A loud laugh came straight from Martie’s throat. “Then he’s a dumb scammer. He can have that piddly little thing.”
“You know what I mean, though, Martie.” Clair found it hard to believe that Martie seemed to think that Clair was the crazy one.
“I do.” The older woman’s gray bun flopped ever-so-slightly on the top of her head as she nodded. “But I’ve lived long enough wishing for things to be different. I’ve lived a long time without my Ray. And with my kids away living their own lives in other states, well, I’ve lived a long time being alone. I’m tired, Clair. You do a great job of planning activities here and making sure we’re all looked after. No one could do a better job of running a place like this than you do—there are so many horror stories out there of homes that treat their residents badly. You don’t do that, and I know you never will. And I’ve got friends here—I don’t mean that I’m lonely. I just want a little fun. You know?”
Clair raised her arm and patted Martie on the shoulder.
All of Clair’s residents had a special home in her heart, but Martie Simpson occupied the penthouse. She loved the dear little woman who was always quoting her favorite Bible verses, telling stories from the war, and gifting hand-made afghan blankets to every new resident. Martie was like the grandmother Clair always dreamed of having.
“I think I do, Martie.”
“I know you do, Honey.” Martie stared Clair down with love in her gaze. “It wouldn’t hurt you to decide to have some fun, too. I said you’re great at your job—and you are—but there’s a big world outside these walls, you know.”
Clair waved at Ellis Lawson as his daughter signed him out for the afternoon. “Be good, Ellis—I’ll see you back in a bit.”
“See? Even Ellis gets out there. He told me Felicia was taking him to Island Bowl today.”
If Clair hadn’t known better, she’d say there was more than a hint of I-told-you-so in Martie’s voice.
“I haven’t been bowling since high school.” The memories came as swiftly as a shiny ball rolling down the lane. Rob had talked her into joining a league at Island Bowl. He said he was in in it for the chance to have his own monogrammed bowling shirt. He’d always made her laugh.
Until the day that he made her cry.
But that was a long time ago. She had worked hard to stop letting the memories of Rob Landers affect her.
And she didn’t intend to change her constant desire to keep the past in the past.
Martie had dragged up enough crazy with this BuddyWords Valentine’s date thing. Clair was absolutely not going to let Martie inadvertently pull up anything else that needed to be, metaphorically speaking, left at the bottom of the Gulf of Mexico.
It seemed crazy to lead the conversation back to this BuddyWords nonsense, but it didn’t take much for Clair to realize that was a much safer place for her mind to be than dancing around memories of her high school sweetheart.
“So, Mr. Oh-Six-One-Two is going to come here and be your date to the Valentine’s Dance we’re putting on next weekend?”
Martie shook her head strongly enough that this time, her bun did a full cha-cha. “No, not exactly.”
Clair threw her hands in the air. “Then I’m really confused, Martie. I thought that’s what you said.”
“I did.” She nodded again. “But he’s also coming tonight to dinner. He’s here in town visiting family. It’s his first time back in Port Provident in almost ten years, he said.”
“He’s coming to dinner here? With you?”
Martie smiled. “Yes. It’s lasagna night. He said he loves lasagna. It was a bonus word two weeks ago. We started talking about it. I thought it would be fun to meet him in person.”
“Martha Jane Sidwell Simpson, you’ve gone plumb crazy. I think you need a chaperone.”
“Nope. There are two hundred and twelve residents here. I’ll be fine.” She made a dusting motion with her hands as if to signal that was that to Clair. “Now, if you’ll excuse me, I need a little beauty nap before dinner.”
She gave a grin to Clair, then turned away and walked down the hall without another word.
When Clair told people that she managed activities and recreation for the local retirement center, most of them assumed that her days were spent calling bingo and bocce ball tournaments. They figured it was a slow, sedate job.
They’d never met Martie Simpson. Or the other two hundred and eleven people who called this cluster of red brick buildings near the seashore home.
Nothing about the Port Provident Retirement Community was dull. It was why Clair preferred to spend her time at work. Her own life paled in comparison. Retirees who’d seen everything and done everything still had more excitement in their lives than a woman who had her whole life ahead of her.
She’d be reminded once again of that tonight when she popped in the center’s restaurant to check on Martie. Clair wouldn’t be on a first date, herself. She never went on first dates. Even though Martie insisted it wasn’t a date, Clair could make sure Martie had a good time—and a safe time.
And somehow, Clair would find a way to tell herself that what she had now was enough.
It felt good to be home.
Rob Landers looked at all the shops and restaurants and other businesses that crowded along the last strip of land before the water—Gulfview Boulevard. So many of them were familiar. Even in the ten years he’d been gone, they’d remained.
He took a deep breath, processing the emotion of seeing his hometown again for the first time in so long. He wished that, like the long-term establishments, he’d been able to stay. But it wasn’t meant to be. His old man had needed help and his mom needed a clean break and getting out of town was the only way to make both of those happen.
Still, reconnecting with Port Provident the last few months had done his soul some good. He’d plugged into some groups on FaceSpace online, purchased a digital subscription to the online paper, and even met someone from the island while playing BuddyWords on breaks at work.
He wanted to know if finding his roots could cure the restlessness that had crept under his skin.
If any place could show him the way, it would be Port Provident.
As Rob slowed down at the stop light, he looked to his left, taking in more of the local landscape.
THERE IT WAS. Island Bowl. Man, he’d spent so many hours there. He’d spent so many hours with Clair there.
Clair Bell. He’d never forgotten the honey-blonde girl who’d been his first love. But he knew she’d forgotten him. In this whole crazy pursuit of his past, Rob knew without a doubt that the roots that had once connected him to Clair were now shriveled up and dead.
Just like the addiction that chased his pop off the island.
Just like the angry divorce that meant he needed to be separated from his mother and sister.
Just like the freedom and happiness he’d once known while roaming the halls of Port Provident High School.
Just like so many things in his life.
Rob was done with bitter ends and loss.
This trip to Port Provident was about finding himself and giving himself the chance to see how his life could have been different. It was about reconnecting with people and places that had once meant a great deal in his life.
It wasn’t about regret. And every memory he had of Clair Bell was wrapped in a cloud of regret. Rob turned his head away from Island Bowl and waited for the light to change from red to green.
Somehow, these few seconds spoke to him deep inside. They were the perfect picture of everything he was trying to do. He was trying not to look at the things in the past that had hurt him—but instead, he was waiting for the sign that he could move forward.
It wasn’t long before he saw the sign he’d been looking for—at least for tonight. The Port Provident Retirement Community. He’d met LongTimeMartie online in a forum for people who played an app-based crossword puzzle game called BuddyWords. They struck up a friendship after realizing they had Port Provident in common. When she found out that he was coming to town to see family, she invited him to lasagna night at her retirement home.
His sister Gretel almost laughed herself off the side of her dolphin tour boat when she heard about his plans for dinner.
“She seems like she needs a friend, Gretel. Her daughter just moved to Ohio with her family, but she stayed behind. Now she’s all alone on the island. I know what that feels like. You do too.” Rob remembered their conversation from the night before.
“Yeah, I do. I wonder if some knight in shining armor will show up for me when I go to a home someday,” Gretel mused.
“I’m no knight. And if I had armor, I’m pretty sure it would be tarnished,” Rob told Gretel.
He looked on the passenger seat next to him. He’d bought a dozen roses in a variety of colors. He was no white knight, but he knew that to have a friend, you first had to be a friend. And this trip to Port Provident was all about being a better version of himself and putting together the pieces of the puzzle to help him start over and become who he’d always hoped he could be.
Rob walked in the door to the facility. A tiny woman with a loosely-wound gray bun smiled broadly. “Bobby?”
“LongTimeMartie?”
Her smile became even brighter. He held out the multi-colored blooms. She leaned close and inhaled deeply.
“What a sweet young man you are, Bobby.”
He cleared his throat a bit. “I actually go by Rob. Bobby was my nickname when I was a kid. My username is my kid nickname and my birthday. Bobby0612...my birthday’s June 12.”
“Oh...how cute,” the older woman said. “Bet you can’t guess how I got mine.”
“I’m afraid I can’t.” There were too many possibilities, and not a one of them seemed like something he wanted to say out loud to a woman old enough to be his grandmother.
Martie took the bouquet from Rob. “It’s from my favorite song. It’s Been a Long, Long Time by Harry James and his Orchestra from back in the World War II days. My husband and I danced to it the night before he shipped out to Europe. It was our song.”
Her explanation brought a smile to his face. “It must be nice to have true love like that.”
She closed her eyes. “Oh, it was. I miss him.”
“So, he’s not here with you?” Rob didn’t quite know what else to say.
“Oh, he’s always with me,” she said, tapping her finger over her heart. “Right in here. Now, let’s get to the dining room before Mary Ellen gets the good table. I want to make sure we’re sitting right in the center so everyone knows this old girl still has some fun.”
Clair tried to be stealthy. Although she often worked late and walked around the restaurant area chatting with residents, she felt way too much like a chaperone right now.
Play it cool, Clair Bear. Just play it cool.
Just as she expected, Martie had chosen the table right in the center of the room. It was exactly like her to make sure everyone saw her and that she saw everyone. Martie was hardly ever subtle, and Clair loved her for it.
Everything seemed to be going well. There were two glasses of tea, a basket of bread, two salad plates heaped with spring mix and croutons...and Rob Landers.
Suddenly, nothing was cool.
Everything flipped around like a salad being tossed in a big, wooden bowl.
Why was Martie having dinner with Rob?
Why was Rob even in Port Provident? Clair choked on a little bit of bile. He left. He left in the middle of the night without saying goodbye. He never reached out again. And to her knowledge, he hadn’t been back in ten years.
Bobby0612. The twelfth of June. That was his birthday. And his mother used to call him Bobby, even though everyone else called him Rob. Clair wanted to kick herself for not figuring out the user name.
She tried taking a steadying breath, refusing to give into the urge to condemn herself. After all, there were a lot of guys named Bobby in this world. How was she supposed to know that the one who’d broken her heart and actually went by Rob liked to play word games on his phone?
Clair figured all he knew how to do was play mind games.
And heart games.
He’d played her back then. Just like a game.
When Martie’s daughter moved up north, Clair promised that she and the rest of the staff would take good care of Martie. And that meant there was no way that she was going to let Rob Landers spend any more time with the retiree. Not even on that silly crossword game. She’d warned Martie about crazy people who wanted to scam retirees out of their life savings.
It wasn’t exactly dollars and cents, but Rob had scammed Clair’s heart back in high school and run off, leaving it just as empty as any cleaned-out bank account. She knew who Rob Landers was and how he worked, and she was not going to let him anywhere near Martie or any of the other retirees under her watch.
Nope.
Clair was older and wiser. And scared stiff. How could she say anything to Rob after all this time?
She marched across the dining room. She had six more steps to figure it out.
“Martie?” Clair stopped short of the table and crooked her finger. “Can I have a word or two with you for a minute?”
Martie’s face lit up like a strand of lights surrounding a Christmas tree. “Of course, darling. But first, I want you to meet my new friend. This is Rob Landers, the real-life Bobby0612. Rob, this is Clair Bell. She’s our activities director here. She’s like another granddaughter to me.”
Clair got a great deal of satisfaction out of watching Rob’s complexion drop several shades until it bottomed out somewhere between puke green and ashy gray.
“You work here?”
“This is my home. These are my people.” She crossed her arms, hoping to deflect any bad ju-ju that seeing him might stir up. Childish, yes. And the fact that she even so much as thought the words bad ju-ju made her roll her eyes at her own ridiculousness. But still...
“Wait, so you live here?”
She stared him down. It was way more fun than it should have been to watch him squirm. “I never left.”
“Clair, honey, you sound mad. Do you two know each other?”
“Yes,” Rob choked out.
“Not really,” Claire said confidently.
Martie laid her fork on the side of her salad bowl. All eyes in the restaurant had turned toward the center table. They’d be talking about this confrontation for days over bingo.
“Clair—do you know him or not?”
Clair decided that honesty was the best policy. “I thought I did. Once. But no, apparently I really didn’t.”
“So how do you know each other?” Martie continued to dig.
“School.” Clair focused on keeping it short.
Unfortunately, Rob had not gotten the same memo. He dove in at the same time as Clair, but gave more of an explanation than she ever wanted her residents to know. “We dated for two years in high school. I haven’t seen her since I moved.”
Clair stood silent.
“So...you’re the one who got away?” Martie began to hum something that sounded suspiciously like a big band tune.
“What are you singing, Martie?”
Martie smiled. “Oh, just my favorite little song. It’s Been a Long, Long Time.”
Clair couldn’t even twitch. She was frozen. She knew the lyrics to that song. She did not want Rob to kiss her once or twice or once again. Never again seemed far more appropriate.
“It has been a long time,” Clair said. She lowered her voice slightly. “But not nearly long enough.”
Martie swallowed, then yawned with a big stretch. She pushed the chair back, then stood up. “My goodness, speaking of long, it has been a looong day. And you know what they say about elderly people needing their rest. Rob, I’m so sorry, but I’ve got to go back to my room. Right now. Really nice meeting you.”
For the first time in more than a decade, Clair looked at Rob and saw her own expression mirrored in his dark eyes. The look on his face held the same amount of shock and disbelief as her own features did. Martie scampered out of the room with a rate of speed that belied the number of arthritis pills she took on a daily basis.
Rob took a deep breath and pointed at the now-vacant chair.
“Do you still like lasagna?”
Keep reading May I Have This Dance
Click here: www.books2read.com/MayIHaveThisDanceBook
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