Share the Happiness

Gerald Miller

Description

This story is about finding love for all ages. This story reminds me of “The Bridges of Madison County”.
Discovering Romance brings mystery. Older citizens do not think romance will happen for them.

Sujets

• Religion
• Christianisme
• Nueva York
• Christian
• Love
• Fiction
• London
• Texas
• New York

Informations

• Publié par: LifeRich Publishing
• Date de parution: 01 septembre 2022
• Nombre de lectures: 0
• EAN13: 9781489743480
• Langue: English

Extrait

SHARE the Happiness
GERALD MILLER


Copyright © 2022 Gerald Miller.
 
All rights reserved. No part of this book may be used or reproduced by any means, graphic, electronic, or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, taping or by any information storage retrieval system without the written permission of the author except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical articles and reviews.
 
This is a work of fiction. All of the characters, names, incidents, organizations, and dialogue in this novel are either the products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously.
 
LifeRich Publishing is a registered trademark of The Reader’s Digest Association, Inc.
 
 
LifeRich Publishing
1663 Liberty Drive
Bloomington, IN 47403
www.liferichpublishing.com
844-686-9607
 
Because of the dynamic nature of the Internet, any web addresses or links contained in this book may have changed since publication and may no longer be valid. The views expressed in this work are solely those of the author and do not necessarily reflect the views of the publisher, and the publisher hereby disclaims any responsibility for them.
 
Any people depicted in stock imagery provided by Getty Images are models, and such images are being used for illustrative purposes only.
Certain stock imagery © Getty Images.
 
ISBN: 978-1-4897-4350-3 (sc)
ISBN: 978-1-4897-4349-7 (hc)
ISBN: 978-1-4897-4348-0 (e)
 
Library of Congress Control Number: 2022915300
 
 
 
LifeRich Publishing rev. date: 08/15/2022
CONTENTS
Dedication
 
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
Chapter 20
Chapter 21
Chapter 22
Chapter 23
Chapter 24
Chapter 25
Chapter 26
Chapter 27
Chapter 28
Chapter 29
Chapter 30
Chapter 31
Chapter 32
Chapter 33
Chapter 34
Chapter 35
Chapter 36
Chapter 37
Chapter 38
Chapter 39
Chapter 40
Chapter 41
Chapter 42
Chapter 43
Chapter 44
Chapter 45
Chapter 46
Chapter 47
Chapter 48
Chapter 49
Chapter 50
Chapter 51
Chapter 52
Chapter 53
Chapter 54
Chapter 55
Chapter 56
Chapter 57
Chapter 58
Chapter 59
Chapter 60
Chapter 61
Chapter 62
Chapter 63
 
Bibliography
DEDICATION
This book could not have been completed if this person did not take an interest in the characters. She came forth with numerous ideas where they should go. So I want to thank her for supporting me and being my cheerleader when I needed her.
Thank you Janice for all your help, because without it this book could not have been written.
Jerry!
Chapter 1
A S HE WAS WALKING DOWN the street he realized, he was the new kid on the block. This thought amused him because he had just celebrated his eighty-fourth birthday. At about the same time, a little boy raced down the drive, heading for the street with his mother in hot pursuit. He reached down, grabbed him by the collar and said, “Whoa little man. Better watch out. We don’t go into the street.”
Just then his mother caught up, out if breath and managed to say, “Thank you”. She explained that little Bruce was a handful. She introduced herself as Irene Johnson.
He smiled and told her, “My name is Marvin Malloy. Pleased to meet you. I just moved in with my daughter next door.”
Irene then explained that little Bruce sometimes was driving her crazy. Marvin smiled and recalled that he too had been a handful at Bruce’s age and his mother’s solution to the problem was to take Ten minutes a day to play any game he wanted to play.
Irene thought for a minute and then she said she would try it. As he began walking away he said, “Good luck. Nice to meet you.” He continued walking toward the mailbox, wondering what might be in it today. It was too soon for his mail to be sent here, but he was always curious if there would be any surprises.
He remembered when his mom would send him to get the mail. If you forgot the combination the teller would just get it for you. Yes, friendlier days. When he opened the box he saw a lot of advertisements, a few bills, and a magazine. He glanced at the magazine and saw a picture of a pretty lady who looked to be in her late sixties or early seventies. He saw her name in bold letters: Amanda Watkins, Prime Minister of England. He studied her look for a few minutes, then started for home, feeling a sudden swagger in his step. He decided he liked this new feeling.
When he came into the house, he laid down the mail and glanced at the magazine. He studied the lady’s eyes closely; he couldn’t look away. He saw something, but he didn’t quite know what. Intrigued, he opened his computer and typed in “Amanda Watkins.” The screen went crazy, and hundreds of articles appeared, most were political, but a few were personal. He ignored the political and went straight to the personals. As he was reading, he learned that she had three grown children, two boys, one girl. She had been married to her husband for thirty-five years until he died in a plane crash along with her daughter and Son-in-law.
After reading about it, he felt sad for her loss. He knew what she had been through. Losing your spouse and your child could have devastating results if you let it but there was always sadness. Some days were very bad, and some days happiness sneaked in. You longed for the happy days. He looked back at her picture, and he studied her eyes; he could see the sadness. He studied further and thought, in the corners he could see flashes of happiness. This photograph was amazing. He decided right then he would write her a letter, knowing she might never see it. The strong feelings he was experiencing toward her seemed to be uncontrollable. He brought up Word on his computer and began.
My Dear Ms. Watkins,
My name is Marvin Malloy, I live in Arizona, USA, I am an Eighty-four-year-old widower. I was fascinated by your recent magazine picture. Now I do know that you will never see this letter, for I believe that you have readers to sort out the good from the not- so- good ones, before they are passed on to you. This one will go into the not so good pile, but for my own satisfaction I will write it anyway.
After seeing your picture, I noticed your eyes; I could see the hurt of losing your husband. I looked deeper, and I could also see flashes of happiness moving in. Having had these same experiences, I would very much like to have a conversation with you about our losses and how we dealt with them. No press and no politics- just two people who need someone to talk to and listen to. I will be in London on holiday in thirty days, staying in a Bed and Breakfast whose name escapes me now. If you care to, let’s set up at least a thirty-minute appointment to just talk. To the reader who is reading this, have a heart and put this in the interesting pile. Thank you for your time and God Bless. Marvin Malloy 222-555-5015. Time was slipping away, and the day of his leaving was drawing closer. He was becoming anxious to start his trip.
Chapter 2
M ARVIN PICKED UP THE BROCHURE and re-read it. “Stafford House, Bed and Breakfast. Just outside of London. Enjoy the quiet and restfulness of our little town. He studied the pictures, then placed it in his case along with his passport and identification. He closed his suitcase, took a deep breath, and sighed; I am ready. Tomorrow was the big day. Look out London, here I come. Marvin now thought, “What have I forgotten?” Not one thought of the letter he had written.
Meanwhile in London, the Prime Ministers readers were going through a large pile of letters. As they were sorting them, they placed them into different piles. Important, less important, and not important.
One of the young readers held up a letter and hollered, “Hey, guys, look at this one. It came from Arizona, USA. This guy wants an appointment with the PM. He must think he is special.” After they looked at it, he asked, “Where I should place it?” They all agreed, “Not important file.” He placed it down without looking, not knowing he was placing it in the important file, and it was soon on its way to the PM. This pile of correspondence would be on the PM’S desk in the morning.
Late that afternoon, Marvin was arriving at the B & B, looking forward to a good rest. thinking these old bones need sleep. The Stafford House was an older, beautiful residence. He was glad he chose this one. As he got into the bed the image of his letter came to mind. Marvin wondered, has the PM ever read it. He remembered her picture, her look of sadness, and the flashes of happiness he saw. He said to himself, “Well Amanda, I pray that the happiness I saw wins out because you deserve it.” His last thought as he was falling asleep was, “I sure wish I could have talked with you.”
The next morning the PM entered her office and on her desk were the usual letters for her to read. This morning there were only seven letters, and she thought, good, it will be an easy morning. The Prime Minister read the first two and thought, why did they put them in the important pile. Then she picked up the third one, glanced at the envelope thinking strange. It came from Arizona, USA, from a man named “Marvin Malloy.” What in the world is this?
Amanda began reading the letter and became intrigued with-its contents. Here was a man, a Mr. Malloy, who was concerned for her feelings of despair of losing her husband. She re-read the letter three times and made the decision to