Chicken Soup for the Bride's Soul Read Online Free PDF
Author: Jack Canfield
opened it.
Sweetie,
Please bear with me! There are going to be times when other things might seem more important than you, but you have to trust that they’re not.
The rest is up to faith. I’ll be at the Dockside at 7:30. I’m hoping more than anything that you meet me. Please be there with the champagne.
Jeff
Andrea stood and noticed that every patron in the bar was gawking. She was right; it was a conspiracy. Her first thought was to go home and put an end to Jeff’s foolish game.
Then it hit her. There was no way Jeff would have had the time to drop off both cards. Realizing it was all a carefully planned scheme; she smiled back at the crowd. Her excitement grew and, within minutes, she was in her car speeding to the Dockside.
As expected, Jeff was nowhere to be found. Instead, a white stretch limousine idled in front of a dilapidated shack. The chauffeur held a sign that read Andrea Evans.
With her dozen red roses, bottle of champagne and tears in her eyes, she climbed into the car. The driver offered a familiar smile and handed her a tiny card.
I knew you wouldn’t give up on me. Enjoy the ride. I’m waiting! I love you!
Jeff
Andrea enjoyed the ride and when the car stopped, she stole a peek out the window. She was at the beach and Jeff was waiting somewhere in the dunes.
The driver parked the car, opened the door and assisted her out. “Have a beautiful time,” he said. “I’ll be here when you get done!”
Andrea felt like hugging him for his smile—the same one she had seen on the faces of strangers all day. Something big was up and the quest was not yet complete. Not forgetting her roses and champagne, she kicked off her shoes, grabbed them and started for the ocean.
A path of small seashells glimmered under a full moon. It was obvious each shell had been carefully placed, looping through the shifting dunes until they reached several large conch shells. Arranged in the shape of an arrow, they were the last clue on Jeff’s peculiar map. She took a deep breath before stepping over the last dune.
The sight nearly brought her to her knees. Jeff was seated at a small round table in the middle of the beach. Dressed in a black tux, he stood when he saw her. She hurried toward him.
On the table, a hurricane lamp illuminated two place settings, an empty vase and empty ice bucket waited to be filled, and soft music drifted through the breeze.
As she reached him, she expected Jeff to embrace her, but he didn’t. Instead, he dropped to his knees, grabbed her hand and blurted, “Be my wife, Andrea. Spend the rest of your life with me.”
Instinctively, Andrea dropped to meet him in the sand. “Yes!” she answered through her sniffles. “I thought you’d never ask!”
Jeff laughed and pulled her to him. “I love you,” he whispered.
“And I love you,” she countered. Gesturing toward the table, she added, “I love all of this! But why?”
“Because I needed to know that you wouldn’t give up on me when you thought I may have given up on you. I needed to know you love me as much as I love you.”
“Do you know now?”
“I do,” he whispered.
“Good,” she giggled. “Because this is the last time I chase you!”
Steve Manchester
The Last Quarter
T hink not because you are wed That all your courtship’s at an end.
Antonio Hurtado de Mendoza
When I decided my girlfriend Maria was the woman I wanted to marry, I told her I wanted to date her exclusively. A good friend of ours suggested we start “courting.”
Since neither Maria nor I knew the difference between courting and dating, our ever-helpful friend quickly pointed out they were similar, but with significant differences. “Appropriate physical boundaries” needed to be respected; and a dedicated commitment would enable us to grow individually and as a couple.
Finally, according to my friend, courtship meant every time Maria and I saw each other, I was to give her a quarter. Yes, that’s right—a quarter. Is this
Sweetie,
Please bear with me! There are going to be times when other things might seem more important than you, but you have to trust that they’re not.
The rest is up to faith. I’ll be at the Dockside at 7:30. I’m hoping more than anything that you meet me. Please be there with the champagne.
Jeff
Andrea stood and noticed that every patron in the bar was gawking. She was right; it was a conspiracy. Her first thought was to go home and put an end to Jeff’s foolish game.
Then it hit her. There was no way Jeff would have had the time to drop off both cards. Realizing it was all a carefully planned scheme; she smiled back at the crowd. Her excitement grew and, within minutes, she was in her car speeding to the Dockside.
As expected, Jeff was nowhere to be found. Instead, a white stretch limousine idled in front of a dilapidated shack. The chauffeur held a sign that read Andrea Evans.
With her dozen red roses, bottle of champagne and tears in her eyes, she climbed into the car. The driver offered a familiar smile and handed her a tiny card.
I knew you wouldn’t give up on me. Enjoy the ride. I’m waiting! I love you!
Jeff
Andrea enjoyed the ride and when the car stopped, she stole a peek out the window. She was at the beach and Jeff was waiting somewhere in the dunes.
The driver parked the car, opened the door and assisted her out. “Have a beautiful time,” he said. “I’ll be here when you get done!”
Andrea felt like hugging him for his smile—the same one she had seen on the faces of strangers all day. Something big was up and the quest was not yet complete. Not forgetting her roses and champagne, she kicked off her shoes, grabbed them and started for the ocean.
A path of small seashells glimmered under a full moon. It was obvious each shell had been carefully placed, looping through the shifting dunes until they reached several large conch shells. Arranged in the shape of an arrow, they were the last clue on Jeff’s peculiar map. She took a deep breath before stepping over the last dune.
The sight nearly brought her to her knees. Jeff was seated at a small round table in the middle of the beach. Dressed in a black tux, he stood when he saw her. She hurried toward him.
On the table, a hurricane lamp illuminated two place settings, an empty vase and empty ice bucket waited to be filled, and soft music drifted through the breeze.
As she reached him, she expected Jeff to embrace her, but he didn’t. Instead, he dropped to his knees, grabbed her hand and blurted, “Be my wife, Andrea. Spend the rest of your life with me.”
Instinctively, Andrea dropped to meet him in the sand. “Yes!” she answered through her sniffles. “I thought you’d never ask!”
Jeff laughed and pulled her to him. “I love you,” he whispered.
“And I love you,” she countered. Gesturing toward the table, she added, “I love all of this! But why?”
“Because I needed to know that you wouldn’t give up on me when you thought I may have given up on you. I needed to know you love me as much as I love you.”
“Do you know now?”
“I do,” he whispered.
“Good,” she giggled. “Because this is the last time I chase you!”
Steve Manchester
The Last Quarter
T hink not because you are wed That all your courtship’s at an end.
Antonio Hurtado de Mendoza
When I decided my girlfriend Maria was the woman I wanted to marry, I told her I wanted to date her exclusively. A good friend of ours suggested we start “courting.”
Since neither Maria nor I knew the difference between courting and dating, our ever-helpful friend quickly pointed out they were similar, but with significant differences. “Appropriate physical boundaries” needed to be respected; and a dedicated commitment would enable us to grow individually and as a couple.
Finally, according to my friend, courtship meant every time Maria and I saw each other, I was to give her a quarter. Yes, that’s right—a quarter. Is this