Lieutenant John Blanchard stood in Grand Central Station, oblivious to the crowd bustling and scurrying around him. With a racing heart, he fixed his eyes on the big clock towering overhead. It was almost time. At six o'clock, he would meet the girl he thought he loved--but had never met. As the minutes ticked by, he kept wondering what color her eyes would be and what her voice would sound like when he heard her speak for the very first time.
John's mind drifted back over all that had happened in the past few years ever since his pilot training days in Florida at the beginning of World War II. He fondly recalled his memorable visit to a library on his day off, when he'd picked up a book and started thumbing through the pages. His eye had immediately been drawn to the beautiful and insightful notes someone had written in the margins of the book. He found himself wishing he could meet this mysterious person who seemed so kind and wise. He flipped to the front of the book and saw a name: Harlyss Maynell, New York City.
On a whim, he decided to try to find her. Hurrying out of the library, he tracked down a New York City phone book and looked up her address. His heart skipped a beat when he saw her name and address listed in the phone book. "Well--what have I got to lose?" he decided. He wrote her a short letter, telling her how he'd found her name and expressing how much he appreciated the ideas and insights she'd expressed in the margins of the book.
He never really expected to hear from her. And the day after he wrote the letter, he was shipped overseas to fight in the war. But, to his amazement, she replied. Her letter was forwarded to him overseas.
He remembered how her letter was just like the notes she had written in the pages of the book--gentle, kind, full of grace and wisdom.
He wrote to her again. And soon they began corresponding. All throughout his time as an Air Force pilot during the war, Harlyss's letters brought him joy and comfort in the midst of darkness and fear. Each time he flew over Germany and heard the bombs all around him, he never knew if he would make it out alive. He confessed his fears to Harlyss, and she encouraged him with scripture and to look to God for strength.
As they continued to write, John began to realize that he was falling in love with this amazing woman named Harlyss. He wrote, "Please send me a picture of you," but she replied, "No, I won't. Relationships are not built on what people look like."
Still, he was intrigued by her and longed to meet her in person. John was elated when he found out that he could finally return to the United States on leave. He wrote to Harlyss and asked if he could meet her in New York and take her to dinner. She arranged to meet him on the day of his arrival at Grand Central station at six p.m. underneath the big clock. "You'll know who I am because I'll be wearing a red rose," she told him in her letter.
At last the day had come, John fidgeted nervously as the clock struck six, his eyes glancing this way and that. Suddenly, he caught a glimpse of a beautiful young woman in a pale green suit walking towards him, a coy smile on her face. Her blonde hair lay back in curls from her delicate ears, and she had sparkling blue eyes. She was one of the loveliest women John had ever seen.
Excitedly, John started toward her, entirely forgetting to notice that she was not wearing a red rose. As he looked at her, she tilted her head teasingly, "Going my way, soldier?" she said. John took a step closer to her. And just then he saw another woman standing directly behind the girl in the green suit, with a bright red rose pinned to her coat. It was Harlyss Maynell--the woman John had been waiting to meet for the past two years. His heart sank. She was a plump woman, well past forty. She had graying hair tucked under a worn hat. Her thick ankles were thrust into low shoes.
The girl in the green suit was walking quickly away. John had to make a choice. Should he follow after the beauty who had just spoken to him? Or stay and face Harlyss Maynell?
He made his decision, and did not hesitate. Choking back disappointment, he turned to the woman and smiled. This would not be love, but maybe it would be something even better--a precious friendship for which John would always be eternally grateful.
"You must be Miss Maynell," he said kindly, extending his hand to her. "I'm so glad you could meet me. Will you join me for dinner?"
The older woman's face broadened into a smile. "I don't know what this is all about, son," she replied, "but you know that young woman in the green suit who just went by? I met her on the train. She asked me to wear this rose on my coat. She said that, if you should ask me to dinner, to tell you she's waiting for you in that big restaurant across the street. She said it was some kind of a test."
He remembered how her letter was just like the notes she had written in the pages of the book--gentle, kind, full of grace and wisdom.
He wrote to her again. And soon they began corresponding. All throughout his time as an Air Force pilot during the war, Harlyss's letters brought him joy and comfort in the midst of darkness and fear. Each time he flew over Germany and heard the bombs all around him, he never knew if he would make it out alive. He confessed his fears to Harlyss, and she encouraged him with scripture and to look to God for strength.
As they continued to write, John began to realize that he was falling in love with this amazing woman named Harlyss. He wrote, "Please send me a picture of you," but she replied, "No, I won't. Relationships are not built on what people look like."
Still, he was intrigued by her and longed to meet her in person. John was elated when he found out that he could finally return to the United States on leave. He wrote to Harlyss and asked if he could meet her in New York and take her to dinner. She arranged to meet him on the day of his arrival at Grand Central station at six p.m. underneath the big clock. "You'll know who I am because I'll be wearing a red rose," she told him in her letter.
At last the day had come, John fidgeted nervously as the clock struck six, his eyes glancing this way and that. Suddenly, he caught a glimpse of a beautiful young woman in a pale green suit walking towards him, a coy smile on her face. Her blonde hair lay back in curls from her delicate ears, and she had sparkling blue eyes. She was one of the loveliest women John had ever seen.
Excitedly, John started toward her, entirely forgetting to notice that she was not wearing a red rose. As he looked at her, she tilted her head teasingly, "Going my way, soldier?" she said. John took a step closer to her. And just then he saw another woman standing directly behind the girl in the green suit, with a bright red rose pinned to her coat. It was Harlyss Maynell--the woman John had been waiting to meet for the past two years. His heart sank. She was a plump woman, well past forty. She had graying hair tucked under a worn hat. Her thick ankles were thrust into low shoes.
The girl in the green suit was walking quickly away. John had to make a choice. Should he follow after the beauty who had just spoken to him? Or stay and face Harlyss Maynell?
He made his decision, and did not hesitate. Choking back disappointment, he turned to the woman and smiled. This would not be love, but maybe it would be something even better--a precious friendship for which John would always be eternally grateful.
"You must be Miss Maynell," he said kindly, extending his hand to her. "I'm so glad you could meet me. Will you join me for dinner?"
The older woman's face broadened into a smile. "I don't know what this is all about, son," she replied, "but you know that young woman in the green suit who just went by? I met her on the train. She asked me to wear this rose on my coat. She said that, if you should ask me to dinner, to tell you she's waiting for you in that big restaurant across the street. She said it was some kind of a test."
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