Newly divorced man finds there are things that do not have a rational explanation after his wife leaves him.
Sometimes we must take things on faith.

Taste of Tahiti
As his marriage ended Martin couldn't believe it was happening. The divorce had come as unexpectedly as his marriage had the previous year. In a few months he went from being a confirmed bachelor to a married man to a divorced man filled with regret.
He and his wife had met in the grocery store where they both shopped in a suburb of Washington, D.C. He was at the time a thirty-four-year-old man who had worked in that area since college and Jessie was a twenty-three-year-old kindergarten teacher.
He had turned a corner into the produce department one Friday evening as the melon she was tugging on at the bottom of a stack of honeydew melons gave way and several melons rolled on the floor.
Of course Martin slipped. He found himself lying on his back gazing up at the ceiling then a tall willowy blonde gave him her hand and helped him up.
After he helped her pick up the other melons, Martin and the girl introduced themselves. By the time they both left the store, he had her name, address and phone number.
Things moved swiftly the next few weeks. Martin was amazed at how quickly but he counted himself lucky to have found Jessie who he had loved the moment he saw her.
Her mother and father invited him to attend church with them one Sunday after they decided to get married. The church services were followed by a family dinner at Jessie's parents' home.
Meeting Jessie's parents, Martin relaxed a little. Her father was quiet but had a dry sense of humor. Her mother was a bright, easygoing woman who went out of her way to make Martin feel at home.
During a lull in the conversation at the dinner table, Jessie's mother mentioned the sermon they had heard at church that morning. Their pastor had picked two angels in the Bible and talked about how each helped people.
Sharon voiced her belief that it wasn't just in Biblical times that angels helped people. Angels were still to be found on earth. You just had to watch for them.
She mentioned one friend who experienced what she called 'an encounter with angels.' While a young woman, she had lost her seven-year-old son to meningitis. She was grieving when she had two unexpected visitors. Two sympathetic young men talked to her for a few minutes. By the time they left, she felt like a heavy weight had lifted from her heart.
Martin had never heard anyone talk so openly about angels. He dismissed Jessie's mother's remarks as the whimsical notions of an older lady.
As soon as they were married, Martin's in-laws welcomed him into the family. Strangely enough, the more her parents and siblings tried to make Martin feel like family, the more he began to yearn for Texas even though he no longer had relatives there. His mother was deceased and his father usually lived abroad. He had moved on and went from one wife to another.
An old college chum let Martin know about a job at his company in Fort Worth, a position just meant for Martin.
After convincing Jessie that the job was one in a million, Martin interviewed at the company and was hired.
The day they moved to Fort Worth was the hottest June 9th in thirty years. Jessie loved summers on the Chesapeake but she wasn't ready for Summer Texas-style. Of course the air conditioner died that day. Jessie broke out in a fierce heat rash and became very cross and unreasonable. They had their first fight.
After that things went downhill fast. The neighbors weren't friendly. Older and retired, they preferred friends their same age so most of them ignored the young arrivals.
On the work front, Jessie couldn't get a job teaching. She was told by someone in Personnel for the school district that 'they prefer to hire local people.'
Also Martin loved his job and he began to spend more and more time at work.
Jessie asked if he would consider going to a marriage counselor. He laughed and told her that he didn't have time.
Finally she told him that she was leaving and would file for divorce.
Too late he realized what he had lost. Stubborn pride kept him from going after the only woman he had ever loved.
One frosty January evening he was returning home from work. He had been alone for two weeks and missed Jessie more than he could have imagined possible.
At a traffic light, he glanced over at the driver of the next car. The pretty young woman turned and looked directly at him. A trace of a smile flickered across her face.
Martin smiled back. Her caring, tender smile warmed his lonely heart.
The lights turned green and traffic flowed again. Their vehicles proceeded side by side in the sluggish evening traffic. Martin noticed a sign on the side of the girl's red Mini Cooper. He studied the sign; a palm tree and small figure in a hula skirt above the words 'Try a Taste of Tahiti.' A local telephone number completed the sign.
The girl's car soon turned off the main road and Martin continued to his own home a mile away.
Entering his pseudo-English Tudor dwelling, he grabbed a pen and wrote down the number he'd been muttering all of the way home.
Lonely and sad, he hungered for the sound of a friendly voice.
The next morning he woke feeling groggy and out of sorts. He decided to stay home and rest.
By lunchtime he decided to call the girl and find out about Taste of Tahiti. He hoped it wasn't an escort service or some other business of that type since he wasn't looking for a cheap thrill.
"Hello." A woman's voice answered on the first ring.
He started to hang up.
"This is Taste of Tahiti." The woman told him. "May I help you?"
"I saw your company advertised on a car while driving home from work last night. You know, the one with the palm tree and girl dancing." He told her.
"And I bet it made you want to fly to our beautiful island." She said "If you haven't been to the South Seas, the rain feels like a warm shower against your skin."
"That sounds good to me."
"If you'd like some information, give me your name and address."
He threw caution to the wind and complied. After the call ended, he fretted. That was a dump thing to do.
At work the next morning his co-workers seemed to go out of their way to be pleasant. Martin surmised they had heard he was getting divorced.
During a group meeting his boss went around the room asking each person to give him the name of a brand-new business that might be worth contacting, even a start-up firm with no name recognition.
Too late Martin remembered the assignment. He tried to think of a company he could mention.
His boss reached him.
"I know this may sound crazy but..." He began, trying to stall for time.
Everyone was staring at him.
"I was thinking of a long-shot..."
"We're waiting." Irritation showed in his boss's usually mild voice.
"Taste of Tahiti." He threw out the name.
"Go on." At least his boss wasn't yelling, not yet.
Thinking fast, Martin continued. "Wel, a new business needs to get the public eye right away. Right?
"Okay. Then we start with a neat ad or series of ads that may imply one thing or another." He gave some examples off the top of his head.
The boss started smiling and nodding. "Great, that's great thinking." He gazed at the others around the conference table. "See, folks. That's what's making this guy our star and he's just been with this firm a year. Good original thinking." He took his seat at the head of the table. "And that's why my man here will be in charge of getting this account. Jump on it, Martin, before another ad company snatches this company right from under our noses."
What have I done? The meeting over, Martin remained seated while the other members of the team turned off their laptops then filed out the door.
His boss caught him before he could leave. "That was great. I was beginning to worry about you. Divorce is hard on everyone. But you seem to be doing just fine now. Keep me informed. I look forward to your presentation on an ad campaign. How soon can I see it?"
"I need to contact the company first,sir." He reminded his superior.
"Strike while the iron's hot."
"You're right about that." Martin spoke from the corridor. "I'll call the company as soon as I get back to my desk."
"Wait, there's one thing. You never said what kind of business they're in." His boss called after him. He pretended he didn't hear.
At his desk, Martin called and obtained the address for Taste of Tahiti. It was just off Hulen Boulevard in south Forth Worh. He told his secretary he'd be back later.
The sign was new in the only occupied space in a recently constructed strip shopping center. There were four other spaces still for lease.
He parked in front and surveyed the sign for Taste of Tahiti. It gave no indication of their kind of business.
He entered the office and found a small, neat space, just a desk, office chairs and a large color poster of Tahiti on the opposite wall.
As soon as he entered, a back door opened and the girl he'd seen in the red Mini-Copper came in. Her glossy black hair hung to her shoulders. In the bright light streaming through the unadorned windows, her eyes were as blue as a summer day.
"It's good to see you." Her tone seemed to imply she already knew him.
He introduced himself and told her about his advertising firm and how they could help her business.
She glanced at him but didn't respond.
"Am I too late? Has someone else been here before me?" He meant another advertising company of course.
"Let's say you're the first. Everyone who comes here is the first since he's unique." She answered enigmatically.
"Now I'm feeling foolish. Just what line of business is Taste of Tahiti in?"
"It's anything you need it to be." She said. "What do you need in your life right now?"
His mind whirled. What a strange woman. Not wanting to tell her what he really felt, he spoke in generalities, not from the heart. "That's a good question." He said. "What do most people neeed? I'd say fame, fortune or public recognition would be near the top of the list."
"You didn't answer my question. What do you need?"
"I need someone who really cares for me." The words flew out of his mouth on their own.
"Your candor is refreshing." She smiled like someone who knew all of the answers. "Many people refuse to say what they really need."
A steady blue gaze seemed to penetrate him. After staring at him for a few moments, she spoke. "You're a good man, Martin." Her eyes were kinder now and her voice more gentle. "Go back to work now. You'll feel better soon. Someone will care for you."
"I don't see how you can be so sure about that." He said.
"Trust me. I know." She walked him to the door and stood outside as he drove his SUV out of the parking lot.
As he turned on the main street, Martin glanced in his rear-view mirror. The young woman had apparently gone back inside because he didn't see her. But now he didn't see the Taste of Tahiti office either, not even the sign that had been on the firm's window. Now there were five, not four empty spaces in the strip shopping center he just left and 'To Lease' signs in all of the unoccupied store windows.
There was no sign or other indication that Taste of Tahiti, the business he'd just visited had ever been there.
He looked back once more then had to focus on the heavy traffic around him.
Martin felt as if something important had just happened. He didn't have a clue what it was.
Back at the office the departmental secretary handed him a message. Jessie wanted him to get in touch.
Eager to reach her, his hands shook as he dialed her parents' number. She answered on the first ring.
"I've missed you so much." She said simply. "Would you be willing to try again?"
"I love you more than anything. We'll work out our problems together." He said. "Hurry home."
Hanging up the telephone, Martin pondered what had happened to him that day. It had been a strange experience and he could come up with no logical explanation.
As he opened the Venetian blind and stared through his office window at the traffic swirling ten floors below, something he'd read years ago drifted into his thoughts, an old Welsh saying. 'There be dragons.'
Based on his experience that day, there was no doubt in his mind. He silently changed the Welsh saying to fit what had happened to him.
'There be angels.'
Nancy S. Madison,
Copyright 2007