A lady from my church helps out a newly widowed man

I’d never been much of a church goer, though my wife rarely missed a Sunday. I went more for her, than as a believer. She’d had a couple of small strokes, and felt better if I was there with her in case she had an issue, as well as to do the driving.

I’ve been a skeptic of religion since my college days, probably the result of many years of Catholic school, and a Jesuit high school. High school was good, and I liked the Jesuits. Unlike many, they teach you to think, and it’s probably where I got my questioning nature. I’d also seen too many people twist religion for their own purposes, or deliberately misrepresent the words in the Bible.

My wife had, in her later years, engaged in a spiritual quest, wanting to learn more about the Bible and related subjects, and had started attending a Baptist church several years prior. My background was Catholic, so the Baptists were a new experience for me. I never really caught on to the outward enthusiasm many of them had for their faith, since my worship experience had been much more subdued. But, my wife enjoyed the services, and the social interaction was enjoyable. We made some good friends there, and people as a whole were friendly.


One aspect of the service that took some adjustment for me was the first segment, which was worship in music. It was more of a stage show, unlike the staid organ music and hymns of my youth. There was a seven piece ensemble, and even back up singers. Except for a few songs, I recognized almost none of the songs they played, though some were appealing. Occasionally they’d throw an old classic at us, which I preferred. For the most part, I didn’t pay much attention to the “band,” though their pianist had a style almost like Bruce Hornsby. Then one Sunday morning a couple of years into my weekly church attendance, I noticed one of the back up singers looking my direction.

She was a tall, slightly chunky blonde, with a really pretty face, and wavy hair that reached down just over her shoulders. She had smallish tits, and wide hips. She tended toward long skirts and dresses, the kind that always said to me, “not interested in sex.” And she was looking right at me. It’s funny how you can look at someone every week for a couple of years, and not really pay much attention; suddenly, I was captivated.

I smiled at her as our eyes met. I saw her already sparkling blue eyes light up, lingering on mine for a moment. She smiled, and went back to the song the group was playing. After the service she was involved in a conversation with some other folks, and not wanting to horn in, I just smiled and said a quiet “Hi” as I walked past, which was met with an equally warm smile, and a “Have a nice day.” Over the next months, we would have this same interaction, though never really stopping to chat, or even introduce ourselves. I noticed she had the typical wedding set, so obviously she was married. Perhaps she wasn’t inclined to speak to other guys without her husband there, or at least aware. Or perhaps she was one of those people whom everyone knew, and just couldn’t get away.

We went on like this for months, just not making the connection. I became more intrigued as time went on. I looked her up in the church directory, learning her name was Nancy, and she had a husband and four kids. From seeing her in church, and looking at her family photo in the directory, I figured she was in her early to mid 40’s, quite a bit younger than my 60.

Time went by, and we’d have these quick hellos, but never really a conversation. Then, about three months later, my wife passed away. The folks at the church were quite supportive, and since my wife was a member of the church, I had the funeral there. Everyone was most gracious, for which I was grateful.

I had put the word out that, as much as I appreciated the good will, don’t bring a lot of food over, which is a fairly common thing to do for the recently bereaved. My thinking was, I’m only one person, I will wind up with far more food than I can possibly eat on my own, and I hate to see it go to waste. I was perfectly capable of cooking for myself, and I was also really good at ordering food from restaurant menus. A minor consideration was that it would also save me from some of the more unusual concoctions that some folks prepare; I’ve seen too many times where people have been bombarded with lime Jell-O, marshmallow, cottage cheese surprise. I did mention that folks should come over and say hello, and visit for a while, as I would enjoy the fellowship. I was blessed to have a number of folks from the church come to visit, and I got to know quite a few of them a lot better than I had until now.

I had no idea how well. About three weeks after my wife’s passing, a white Toyota van pulled up in the middle of a Tuesday afternoon. I didn’t recognize the vehicle, but that was happening a lot those several weeks. As I looked out the window, I saw a pretty blonde step out. I immediately recognized her as Nancy, my back up singer. I met her at the door.

“Hi,” she said, extending her hand. “I’m Nancy. I heard about your wife, I’m so sorry.” I took her hand, and what started as a handshake turned into a long hug. I felt her smallish breasts press into my chest through the top of her long knit dress.

“Thanks. I’m Tom, and I appreciate you stopping by.” We pulled away from each other, our hands lingering on each other’s. “There have been so many people from church coming to visit. It’s been comforting.” I looked into her eyes a moment, almost getting lost in the bright blue. I regained my composure. “Well, come in. Sit a few moments. Can I get you something?? Tea?? Water?? Soda??”

I led Nancy into the living room. “Water would be great,” she said. I grabbed a bottle of water from the kitchen and brought it out, along with a soda for me.

“I have to admit something,” I said, drawing a curious look. “For the last almost a year or so, I’ve been noticing you catching my eye.” Nancy smiled. “But I have not been able to catch you to chat, or at least say hello til now.”

Nancy smiled. “Yeah, I realize. One Sunday when I was up on stage, I noticed you with your wife. You seemed to always be looking after her. I thought it was sweet.”

“Thanks,” I said with a smile. “She’d had a couple of small strokes a few years back, and toward the end, she was having more issues with balance. I told her she should just sit, but she said she liked to stand and sing. It seemed to give her a lot of pleasure to do that. So I would do what I could to keep her steady.”

Nancy looked at me, smiling. “Well, it always made me smile to see that. Then one day, I noticed you looking back at me. I wanted to meet you, but I’m on so many things, I can’t get away from everyone after the service. I’m sorry. I should have made the time. I would have liked to have met your wife before she passed.” Nancy leaned over to hug me.

“I’m sorry, too. I think you two would have gotten along nicely.” I held Nancy’s hands. We continued to talk for about 45 minutes, when she asked the time.

“A little after three,” I said.

She smiled. “I gotta go. I have a couple of kids to pick up.”

We stood and I walked her to the door. “Don’t be a stranger. I really enjoyed having you here, and now that the initial flurry of activity has cut back, it would be nice to see someone occasionally. No big commitment, just a bottle of water and some conversation would be welcome.”

Nancy smiled, her blue eyes sparkling. “I’d like that too. I enjoyed this as well.” She leaned toward me, kissing me on the cheek. I smiled back, and kissed her briefly on the lips, making her giggle. I held her hands in mine as our eyes explored each other.

“Thanks for stopping by. I hope I’ll see you soon.”

Nancy smiled as our hands parted. “Oh, I think you will.”

The next Sunday, Nancy was up on stage as usual, and I was sitting about halfway back in the church as I normally did. About halfway through the song portion of the service, she looked over at me, and our eyes met, lingering more than usual this time. I felt my heart leap as I realized she was definitely making more contact than just a glance into the congregation.

After the service, she stopped briefly to say hello. She took my hands in hers. “Good to see you this morning,” she said, squeezing my fingers between hers, a warm smile on her face.

I couldn’t help but smile back. “Good to see you, too,” I said, my eyes fixed on hers. “I’m glad you came over the other day. It was a real mood boost for me.”

“Me, too. Would you mind if I dropped by one day this week??”

“I’d be delighted. Come over earlier, I’ll make lunch.”

Nancy smiled. “I’d like that. Tuesday, maybe??”

“That should work out fine, I’m free all day. Say, noon-ish??”

Nancy’s smile brightened, if that were indeed possible. “Noon Tuesday it is. Should I bring anything??”

I thought a moment. “Potato salad, if you like. I’ll make burgers. It’s too hot to make French fries anyway.”

“Great. I’ll see you Tuesday.” As always, Nancy was approached by one of the ever present Sunday school crowd, and was pulled away, but not before giving me a quick hug, squeezing my hands as we parted.

Tuesday arrived way too slowly. I was getting anxious about lunch with a 40-something married woman I met in church, who seemed to be taking more of a shine to 60 year old me than I ever would have expected. Nancy arrived right on time, rolling up my driveway at twelve. I had the burgers made up and the grill heating. She came in, giving me a quick kiss and hug. It was nice feeling her warmth against my body as we embraced, the softness of her obviously braless tits pressing against me. She was wearing one of those t-shirt material maxi dresses, only this one had spaghetti straps, making a bra, unless it was strapless, impossible.

She stepped back as we broke our hug, holding out a container of potato salad. “Here’s you go, as ordered,” she said, smiling.

“Thanks,” I said, kissing her. She didn’t flinch, which surprised me a little. “Burgers are ready to go. If you reach up into that cabinet,” I said motioning to one of the many cabinets, “there are some plates and bowls. Put the potato salad in a bowl and pull down a couple of plates, and I’ll get these started.”

I got busy with the burgers, asking Nancy if she wanted blue cheese on hers, which she had never tried, and thought might be tasty. She proved to be a good helpmate, finding her way around the kitchen easily, despite the obvious unfamiliarity. We got things put together, and had a nice lunch and chat at my dining room table.

“I love this table,” said Nancy, running her hand over the golden wood.

“It’s quarter sawn oak,” I said. “My wife liked the look of it, so rich. She had accumulated quite a bit of oak furniture when she lived in the northeast. She must have searched every antique shop from Albany to Rochester, and down to Corning, and all through the Finger Lakes.”

Nancy smiled. “It’s beautiful. I bet it cost quite a bit.”

“It probably did, but I really have no idea. She already had it when we got together.”

“I’d love to have something like this in my house. We recently moved to an older home, and the oak would look really nice there.”

“I’ll keep that in mind if I ever decide to sell any of this. I like it too, so don’t hold your breath.” Nancy laughed. I took her hand. “How about I refill your tea, and we can sit out on the swing??”

“That would be great,” said Nancy, picking up our plates and glasses, taking them to the kitchen. I poured her tea, grabbed myself a soda, and we went out to the deck, sitting on the swing.

Nancy took my hands in hers, looking up at me. “Thanks for lunch. The blue cheese on the burger was really good. I’d never tried that before.”

“I’ve done that for years. I got a taste for it when I was in high school. There was a place that melted it over a 1/2 pound burger. That and a pitcher of Michelob, and it was heaven.” Nancy laughed at my description, her smile bright. I pulled her to me in a long hug. “I’m glad you enjoyed that. It was fun doing this for someone again.” I kissed the top of her head softly. She lingered in my arms, and I kissed her again. She still was not breaking away from our hug, and I leaned down to kiss her blonde mane a third time. Instead of her gently perfumed hair, I was met by her soft lips. She took my face in her hands, kissing me deeply, but softly. I held her tightly as she melted into me.

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