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Printed from https://www.writing.com/main/view_item/item_id/1721810-Come-back-to-me
Rated: E · Short Story · Religious · #1721810
A flower and cryptic note come. Contest








When Jill Allen got back to her small apartment, she found a single white rose on her side table, and a note that read; "Come back to me, I love you. G" , Her mousy hair fell in waves as she shook it from its bun while reopening her door to yell down the stairs. "Mrs. Phillips?"



"Yes dear?" Her landlady stuck her head out the door,and looked up the flight of stairs.



"Did you let a delivery person come in my apartment today?" Jill held up the rose.



"No dear. I'd never do that, 'less ya asked me." The landlady was wearing a bright apron round her ample waist. She had a dish in her hand and was drying it. "Was there anything else, dear?"



"No. Sorry I bothered you."



"Oh. T'is no bother, dear." She went back to her flat. Jill went back inside, and shut the door. "Who do I know, with a name that starts in G?" She made her dinner, and ate it in front of the TV. She didn't like to do this, but never seemed to get out anymore. It was so cold now, and dreary. Jill looked out at the night sky and wished it were summer again. All the while she racked her brain trying to remember anyone with the letter G in their first or last name. Finally she gave up and went to bed. Over the next week Jill continued to receive a single white rose, and the same note. By the third day she had added a bolt to her door, by the fifth she was calling the cops.



A husky older man and young woman in uniform arrived, "I'm officer Tompson. This is our new public relations officer Betty Kapner." Jill told the police everything, they took all the cards, dusted them for finger prints and search the building carefully.



"And your sure you don't know anyone with a G in the beginning or end of their name, ma'am?"



"Yes. I'm positive."



"Well we will look into this, and let you know what we find out."



"Oh thank you both!" Jill followed them out. Then the phone rang. She went back in to answer it.



"Hello? Oh, hi Mom. Yes everything is fine, just a little problem. You needn't have called." Jill's mother lived close by, and had seen the police come to her building.



"Well I'm glad of that dear. You know I've been so worried about you, all by yourself and all. You know I was just speaking to your father about that the other day........"



"Mom, dad's dead. He's been dead for over three years now."



"Oh I know that dear. Still I like to talk to him, I know he hears me up in Heaven."



"Mother! You know I do not believe in that stuff anymore."



Her mom sounded sad. "Yes dear, I do remember. That's what I was talking to your dad about. He told me he would talk to God about you."



Jill shook her head, and steered the conversation to something else. The following day was a weekend, and Jill woke late, she walked into her front room to see a shimmering light placing the rose with the note on her table.



A wonderful melodic voice entered her mind. "Dear one. We meant not to frighten you. The Creator of all just wished to remind you that you are loved. Now that you have seen us, we will not come again. Just remember child, beloved, God loves you! All we want is for you to come back to us." Then the specter faded.







Jill collapsed on her slightly faded couch. At first she just felt surprise, then shock wore off, and pain began to fill her. She had spent these last three years ignoring the teachings she had grown up with. How could there be some all powerful being who could love everyone, yet her father had died. Killed by an electrical charge. When he had died, Jill had been so angry. She had blamed God and then spent that time filled with anger. Now that the rage had left, there was only pain, and she spent almost an hour crying. When she got control of herself, she called her mother.



"Mom? What are you doing today?



"Just the usual, honey. Landry, vacuuming. Did you need to use the washer?"



"No mom, I don't. I was hoping I could go out to dinner, or lunch with you. My treat."



"That would be nice, and dinner sounds lovely. Can we go to that pasta place, the one your dad used to love? Unless that would bother you?"



"No mom. That would be fine. I'll pick you up at 4:30 then."



"That would be wonderful dear! See you then."



That night Jill Allen took a dozen of her mom's favorite roses with her. They were known as golden slippers, and were red with gold-yellow along the edges. Jill had found the perfect card too. She got her mom bundled up against the cold, and helped her to the car. They got a good table at the restaurant, and there she gave her mom the roses, and card.



Susan Allen took them with surprise. "What's all this? What's going on?" Then she looked at her daughters glowing face. "Are you pregnant?"



Jill's laughter pealed in bell like fashion throughout the restaurant, turning many heads. "Oh mom you are precious. No I'm not pregnant. Can't a girl give the mother who gave her life, stood by her through every scrape, and broken heart some roses?"



Burying her nose in the blooms, "Of course you can, it's just so unexpected." They continued to talk, and Susan noticed that her daughter seemed to be filled with happiness. The two women spent an hour reminiscing, while enjoying a delicious pasta meal. As they were getting ready to leave an elderly woman came over to their table.



"Susan Allen?"



"Oh hello Rosa. You remember my daughter Jill, right?"



The other woman nodded, and took Jill's offered hand. Then turned to a man who was standing far back so that he wouldn't keep the waiters from the tables. "This is Thomas's son, Peter." He nodded, but moved no closed. She looked at him for a moment. Then shook her head.



"I'm glad I ran into you, I need some help with the event comity, could you come by the center tomorrow to help?"



"Of course I can. What time will you need me?" Jill stood and offered her moms friend her chair, then went over to take care of the bill. She barely noticed the young man who followed her at a distance. He arrived at the cash register just as she was done, and about to walk away.



"Excuse me." He said, keeping his voice pitch low so as not to startle her. “I'm Peter King, Rosa's stepson. I met you over a year ago, at the Christmas celebration that the community center put on. I don't know if you remember me or not?”

She smiled at him. He was only slightly taller then she was, his hair was a light brown, and not to well styled. He had brown eyes, his face seemed to be set in a stern fashion. There was no laughter in his eyes. No joy at. His bland looks, the drab way he dressed would have normally not been very interesting to her. But now she somehow saw beyond the plane things to the man he could be, the man he hid from, and realized that he too needed to be reminded of God's love. She also knew that if this man was anything like she had been, words of that sort would only move him away. Jill discerned all this very quickly, and put her whole self into her smile. He was draw to her genuine happiness. Peter felt an incredible joy, and happiness coming off of her in waves. He didn't understand why he was attracted to her. She was pretty enough, but he knew a few women who were much better looking. It had been her laugh of earlier that had first gotten his curiosity going. He saw her from his own table, and then casually asked his mother if she knew the woman she was sitting with. His mom had known the older lady, and thought the girl might be her daughter. Rosa had then reminded him that they had met at the party last Christmas. Yet at first Peter had thought that Rosa might be wrong. Back then Jill had always been frowning, or looking uninterested. He remembered he had tried to get her to talk to him, but she had given one word answers. So he at first was sure Rosa was wrong. Now looking at Jill Allen, he wondered what had happened to make this woman shine as she was. He turned to the cashier and payed his bill, then got out of the way. There were benches for people who hadn't eaten yet, he gestured to those and she went the five foot distance and sat on the empty bench. He sat near her, and looked over to be sure Rosa and Jill's mom could see them.

“If I know my mom she will be talking off your mother's ear for awhile.” He said. Jill was smiling with her eyes. “I know my mother won't care, she doesn't get out enough. I'm going to do more to help her get out.” Jill replied.

“Something about you has changed.”

She blushed, and stopped looking at him. Then when she did make eye contact, it was filled with embarrassment. He watched her for a moment, and asked something trying hard to sound casual.

“Are you seeing anyone?”

The grin came back, and now her eye's danced as if she knew why he wanted to know.

“No. I'm not seeing anyone.” Her manner got a bit more reserved. When she looked at him again, her eyes looked a little dreamy, and weary. “Peter I'd love to tell you what happened. However I'm concerned that I might turn you off. Or scare you away.”

He looked skeptical, “What could you possibly tell me, that would be so bad as to scare me away from you?”

“What if I told you I was visited by a heavenly spirit?”

“And??? Don't tell me. Let me guess. Your going to have the next Holy Child?” Sarcasm oozed out of him. He stood then. Offered her his hand, then walked back to the table, and told his mother he would be waiting in the car. Jill sat where he had left her. She knew she had not presented it right, but wasn't sure there was an easy way to tell people. Still she wasn't going to let his bad temper affect her. She walked back over to her table. At that point her mom and Rosa were just rising to leave.

Not long after, Jill became a regular member of her church. She met many people her age, got involved in Bible study. She also helped at her mother's community center. She made many friends. The roses she had received, she had carefully preserved, and found a shop that could make them into a special wreath that she had hanging in her room. There were also some single guys from the church who hung around her as often as they could. Jill liked all of them, but for some reason her mind often thought of Peter King. Finally after several months Brother Steven Bibber, was working with her one night, cleaning up after a evening Bible study. Like most the minister had been drawn by the wondrous glow that always surrounded this young woman. He could sense that something was wrong, and tried to pull it out of her.

“Miss Allen I noticed that tonight you have been a bit more quiet than usual. Care to share what's on your mind?”

“Oh it's probably silly.”

“One thing I know about the Lord, Miss Allen, he or she seems to love the absurd. So silly is fine, please tell me.”

“There is a young man I know who's mother is a friend of my moms. He is not a believer in a all powerful Creator. I know I can't force my thinking on him. I also know it's best to not think of him, I know he may never believe. However I keep thinking of him.”

“Then I think that the Creator of all wants you to pray for this young man.” Jill nodded. “Would you like me to join you?”

“Yes, Brother Bibber, that would be wonderful!” He sat her down on the chairs that had yet to be put away, and bowing his head, softly lead her in a prayer.





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Peter King worked the night shift at 7-11, he still lived with his stepmother. He had his own entrance to his room, and kept a hot plate, mini fridge,and microwave in his room. Besides that he had a bed and closet. He kept his alarm clock on his dresser, and his room was cluttered with clothing. When he got home he was tired and just dropped on the bed to sleep. Six hours later he awoke to a sharp pain in his wrist. He groggily looked at the flower on the bed. It was on the pillow next to his own, and was pure pink in color. Peter didn't even see the card then, he tossed the rose on his dresser, and went back to sleep. Two hours after that he got up, pick up a bit, and as he was straightening the bed he found the card. It read, “Come back to me. I love you. G”





© Copyright 2010 Jennifer Littington (UN: jennlit at Writing.Com). All rights reserved.

Jennifer Littington has granted Writing.Com, its affiliates and syndicates non-exclusive rights to display this work.

© Copyright 2010 Jennifer Littington (jennlit at Writing.Com). All rights reserved.
Writing.Com, its affiliates and syndicates have been granted non-exclusive rights to display this work.
Printed from https://www.writing.com/main/view_item/item_id/1721810-Come-back-to-me