Colette hurriedly worked at removing hot rollers from her shoulder-length, golden brown hair. It was quarter to five, and Grant would be arriving in fifteen minutes to pick her up for dinner. But not just any dinner. An anniversary dinner. Grant and she were celebrating their nineteenth wedding anniversary.

The clock was ticking. Hurried motions of pulling curlers suddenly reminded Colette of the night, not unlike tonight, that she got ready for her first date with Grant when she was eighteen. Ahhh, but the world had been different when she was eighteen. The summer after she'd graduated from high-school was the best summer of her life. That was the summer when Grant and she had gotten engaged.

"Ouch!" Colette yelled.

"Mom, are you okay?" Selena called from her bedroom.

"These curlers are too hot," Colette replied. "I'm not going to be ready on time!"

Selena, followed by her younger sister, Sandra, came running into her bedroom.

"Mom," Sandra said, "you look great!" She gazed at her mother's fitted red dress. "I know Dad will like it."

Colette smiled at Sandra. Meanwhile, Selena had gotten to work, removing curlers and combing her mother's hair. Sandra joined in. In a few short minutes, Colette was ready. Colette heard the front door opening, and they all headed downstairs. She was always amused and touched by her daughters'
interest in their dates.

"Hi, Grant," Colette cried. "I'm all set to go!"

Grant gazed at his wife. He walked toward her, then gently drew her into his embrace. "Happy anniversary, sweetheart."

* * * * * * * * * * * *

Their drive to the downtown Emerald Hotel passed by in thoughtful silence. As always, Colette gently held Grant's right hand while he drove.

She gazed at his profile, at his soft, wavy-brown hair, and the delightful feeling that she often felt came over her. How proud she was to be called Mrs. Grant Gavin.

"Nineteen years, sweetheart," Colette whispered. She watched a grin light up his face.

"Darling," he said, "tonight's going to be special."

Colette felt a wave of pleasant anticipation come over her. She really hoped that something unique would turn this into a very special night. After all, this was their night to celebrate! Nineteen years was no small achievement. Grant and she had done it. . .they'd stayed together, raised their daughters together, built a home and successful career and church life together--and, they were still best friends and lovers.

"You're so quiet," she heard him murmur. "What are you thinking about?"

"Oh, you know, just of bunch of things."

"Can you tell me one of them?" he asked.

"I'm thinking," she whispered, "that you look very handsome, and I'm glad I'm your date."

Deep inside Colette wondered if Grant ever remembered some of the special moments of their courtship days. It had been years since she had heard him call her "Lady Courtwright." How many times had she read his passionate, long loveletters when they were dating. His notes had arrived almost everyday, in his distinctive handwriting, addressed to: Lady Colette Courtwright.

There was one night she had never forgotten. She had starred as Maria in West Side Story, which was staged by her high school during their senior year. Grant came backstage to see her after the opening night performance, and had given her a bouquet of bright red and yellow roses. While other classmates hovered around and offered congratulations, Grant had taken her into his arms and firmly kissed her, then whispered, "Congratulations, sweetheart. Colette, you are the girl of my dreams. I love you. I'm never gonna let you go."

Colette often remembered that night. How wonderful it felt, held so tight in his arms. He had been so passionate, so firm in his declaration of love. And he had always been a wonderful husband, but sometimes Colette wished he would be overtaken with his love for her some night and sweep her into his arms, whether in public or private, and kiss her the way he had that night long ago.

Moments later, they pulled into the basement parking lot of the Emerald Hotel. Grant found a spot immediately.

"Are you going to open my door?" Colette asked.

"Yes. Just wait," he said.

He unfastened his seatbelt, then got out of the car and walked over to the passenger side. He opened her door, and held her hand while she swung her legs out of the car and stood up.

* * * * * * * * * * * *

Minutes later, they stood alone in an elevator. Colette tiptoed and tilted her head upward to plant a kiss on Grant's cheek. It was newly-shaven and fresh, and she also smelled the familiar sporty fragrance of his cologne.

The elevator door opened, and Grant gave her a quick squeeze as he winked at her. His wink seemed to say, 'Darling, hang on to those kisses. There's more to come.'

They stepped onto the second floor and began walking towards one of their favorite restaurants, Marena's Place. Colette always enjoyed walking on the lush, pine-green carpet, and seeing the fancy chandeliers and the magnificent, fresh flower arrangements.

Five-star hotels had always held a special charm for Colette, because she had worked as a receptionist at one for several years when Grant and she were first married. As soon as she'd graduated from Preston Business College, she went to work at a hotel full-time to help pay the bills while Grant earned his degree in International Business.

Nowadays finances at home were mostly stable. With two daughters in high-school, however, soon to be college-bound, expensive dinners were still a somewhat rare treat for them. "There's quite a crowd here tonight," Grant remarked, as they were seated at their table at Marena's Place within the next few minutes. They placed their orders quickly, and easily, midst the relaxing atmosphere of quiet elegance. A pianist played soothing champagne music, and other romantic favorites. Their eyes lit up with recognition when they heard the pianist play, 'I Left My Heart in San Francisco.'

"My Dad always loved that song," Grant said, "and now I do, too."

"The music of our parents' generation was beautiful." Colette nodded, agreeing.

A female vocalist arrived, and she sang some love songs accompanied by a talented pianist. Grant and Colette sat and enjoyed the music while finishing their dinner.

"You've all been such wonderful listeners so far," the singer said, "and our night is just beginning. Now we've got a romantic number planned. Actually, it's a special request. Will Lady Courtwright, a graduate of Dale Gregory High School, please come forward and bless us by singing "Somewhere?"

Lots of friendly chuckles and murmurs were heard. Colette became startled at first. She glanced at Grant with surprise, then with a softening tenderness. So he did remember and think about their courtship days!

"Come on now, don't be shy, Lady Courtwright, " the singer said. "The gentleman who requested that you sing told us you have a very lovely voice."

Grant squeezed Colette's hand. "You can do it. You always sang so beautifully in high-school." His eyes were earnest. "I'd love it if you'd sing."

Colette's heart beat a bit faster. Could she do it? It was true, singing was one of her passions. How special that Grant remembered her high-school singing career! Suddenly Colette stood up and walked over to the stage. She whispered to the pianist, asking him to play a note in her vocal range. He nodded, then offered a chord. Colette felt comfortable with the range, then looked over to where Grant was
sitting, and began to sing: "There's a place for us, somewhere a place for us. . . ."

Her soprano voice was melodic and beautiful. She sang with confidence. Grant's eyes gazed at her adoringly, as though saying, 'Colette, you are the most beautiful woman in the world to me.'

When she finished the song, Colette smiled at her audience, then heard a loud round of applause. She turned, then saw Grant walking toward her. He was carrying a bouquet of ruby-red and yellow roses. Next he took her in his embrace, lowered his head, and kissed her. Colette melted in his arms, and savored his lingering kiss.

"I'm never gonna let you go," he whispered. His arms tightened around her waist, and Colette felt that same kind of reckless, teenage-like love they once knew and didn't care who was watching them. Knowing that Grant still loved her as deeply and as passionately as ever was the best anniversary gift she could get.

© 2002 Jennifer Anne F. Messing

Jennifer Anne F. Messing is a published author, wife, and mother of three, who will graduate in August, 2002, with a bachelor's degree in Religious Education.

Email:MnJMessing@cs.com

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