are a lot of problems ahead. Right now Eleanor thinks Lindsay is the major stumbling block, but she’s wrong. Ray is.
The night Eleanor told him about her relationship with John, he was like a wild man. Eleanor chalked it up to Ray having his father’s hot-headedness, but it’s a whole lot more. That young man is a pot ready to boil over. I saw what was in his heart at that Labor Day cookout and, let me tell you, it was ugly.
I was hoping when Ray saw the Gray’s house, he’d realize John doesn’t need his mother’s money. Regretfully, that was not the case. Every now and then, I come across a human with a mind so closed up that not even I can look inside. Ted Bundy was like that. And on occasion, Eleanor’s son can be the same way. All along I’ve believed with Ray there was hope, but that hope is looking slimmer and slimmer. I’ve got to find a way to get inside Ray’s head and change his way of thinking. If I don’t, Eleanor and John are in a very precarious position. Young or old, no couple can withstand the weight of such family pressures.
Three weeks from now, Ray is going to have a knock-down-drag-out argument with his mother and he’ll tell her that if she marries John, she’s as good as dead to him. I can’t let that happen. Parent-child love is not really my responsibility, but if I’m to save this match I have to do something.
It’s beginning to look like I’ve got a handle on the Lindsay situation, but when it comes to Ray, I’m stumped. I’m tempted to turn him over to Life Management, and I would if I thought I could get away with it. Unfortunately, they’d just kick him back. Not his time, they’d say, deal with it yourself.
Eleanor and John have the kind of love I’ve built my reputation on. If it wasn’t so perfect, I’d give up on it because there are way too many complications. I’m one entity with seventy-eight-thousand, four-hundred and sixty-three matches to do this year alone. How can The Boss expect me to give every falling-in-love-human my undivided attention? The truth is I could use a vacation. If I asked for one, you know what He’d say—Love never takes a vacation. That might be true, but I’m thinking maybe a day off…
A s far as Lindsay is concerned, the situation is starting to take a turn for the better. For weeks she’s been avoiding Eleanor, squirreling herself away in her room sleeping late, looking at magazines or playing on her laptop. Even when her stomach was grumbling for food, she skipped breakfast because it meant sitting opposite Eleanor. This morning was different. She was awake before the six-thirty alarm buzzed, and by seven-fifteen she was dressed and ready to go. When she walked into the kitchen, Eleanor was making coffee.
“Mmm, smells good,” Lindsay said. She poured herself a cup of coffee and purposely sat in the chair alongside Eleanor. They talked for almost twenty minutes, but not one word of the conversation was about John, nor was it edged with that all too familiar cynicism. Had I not seen that it was Eleanor sitting next to Lindsay, I could have easily believed the girl was talking to Amanda or one of her other friends. Eleanor told Lindsay everything she knew about Matthew and The Kindness Animal Clinic, and Lindsay, in turn, told Eleanor about the dog she’s been searching for.
“I just know I am meant to have that dog,” Lindsay said.
“I felt the exact same when I found Canner,” Eleanor replied. “I named him Canner because that’s where I found him, behind a bunch of garbage cans out back of the school.”
“How long did you have Canner?” Lindsay asked.
“Well now, let’s see. When I found him I was eleven years old and when he died I was seventeen, but I’ve got no way of knowing how old he was when I found him.”
“Wow, six years. I’ll bet you really loved him, didn’t you?”
“Goodness gracious, yes. When Canner died I cried for months on end,” Eleanor sighed. “My stepdad was real
The night Eleanor told him about her relationship with John, he was like a wild man. Eleanor chalked it up to Ray having his father’s hot-headedness, but it’s a whole lot more. That young man is a pot ready to boil over. I saw what was in his heart at that Labor Day cookout and, let me tell you, it was ugly.
I was hoping when Ray saw the Gray’s house, he’d realize John doesn’t need his mother’s money. Regretfully, that was not the case. Every now and then, I come across a human with a mind so closed up that not even I can look inside. Ted Bundy was like that. And on occasion, Eleanor’s son can be the same way. All along I’ve believed with Ray there was hope, but that hope is looking slimmer and slimmer. I’ve got to find a way to get inside Ray’s head and change his way of thinking. If I don’t, Eleanor and John are in a very precarious position. Young or old, no couple can withstand the weight of such family pressures.
Three weeks from now, Ray is going to have a knock-down-drag-out argument with his mother and he’ll tell her that if she marries John, she’s as good as dead to him. I can’t let that happen. Parent-child love is not really my responsibility, but if I’m to save this match I have to do something.
It’s beginning to look like I’ve got a handle on the Lindsay situation, but when it comes to Ray, I’m stumped. I’m tempted to turn him over to Life Management, and I would if I thought I could get away with it. Unfortunately, they’d just kick him back. Not his time, they’d say, deal with it yourself.
Eleanor and John have the kind of love I’ve built my reputation on. If it wasn’t so perfect, I’d give up on it because there are way too many complications. I’m one entity with seventy-eight-thousand, four-hundred and sixty-three matches to do this year alone. How can The Boss expect me to give every falling-in-love-human my undivided attention? The truth is I could use a vacation. If I asked for one, you know what He’d say—Love never takes a vacation. That might be true, but I’m thinking maybe a day off…
A s far as Lindsay is concerned, the situation is starting to take a turn for the better. For weeks she’s been avoiding Eleanor, squirreling herself away in her room sleeping late, looking at magazines or playing on her laptop. Even when her stomach was grumbling for food, she skipped breakfast because it meant sitting opposite Eleanor. This morning was different. She was awake before the six-thirty alarm buzzed, and by seven-fifteen she was dressed and ready to go. When she walked into the kitchen, Eleanor was making coffee.
“Mmm, smells good,” Lindsay said. She poured herself a cup of coffee and purposely sat in the chair alongside Eleanor. They talked for almost twenty minutes, but not one word of the conversation was about John, nor was it edged with that all too familiar cynicism. Had I not seen that it was Eleanor sitting next to Lindsay, I could have easily believed the girl was talking to Amanda or one of her other friends. Eleanor told Lindsay everything she knew about Matthew and The Kindness Animal Clinic, and Lindsay, in turn, told Eleanor about the dog she’s been searching for.
“I just know I am meant to have that dog,” Lindsay said.
“I felt the exact same when I found Canner,” Eleanor replied. “I named him Canner because that’s where I found him, behind a bunch of garbage cans out back of the school.”
“How long did you have Canner?” Lindsay asked.
“Well now, let’s see. When I found him I was eleven years old and when he died I was seventeen, but I’ve got no way of knowing how old he was when I found him.”
“Wow, six years. I’ll bet you really loved him, didn’t you?”
“Goodness gracious, yes. When Canner died I cried for months on end,” Eleanor sighed. “My stepdad was real
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