Introducing My Wife Quotes

Still looking at me, Kellan lifted the microphone to his mouth. “I’d like to formally introduce you to this beautiful girl at my side, Miss Kiera Michelle Allen.” He turned back to the DJs. “My wife.

Leila, this is my friend and honorary sire, Menecheres, and his wife, Kira," he said, indicating the lopng-haired Middle Eastern man and the blonde. "Also let me introduce my friend, Cat." The redhead, and for some reason she looked familiar. "Her husband, Bones"-here Vlad smiled coolly at the short-haired brunet-"is not my friend.

Let me introduce you to my wife.” It was the first time Edward had said that word since it was officially true; he seemed like he would explode with satisfaction saying it now. The Denalis all laughed lightly in response. “Tanya, this is my Bella.

I introduced Nora as my wife, though that was a lie. Old people, that's what they wanted to hear. If you were married, you were mature, reliable, exactly like them, because in their day men and women didn't just live together--they made a commitment, they had children and went on cruises and built big houses on lakes and filled them with all the precious trinkets and manufactured artifacts they'd collected along the way.

I remember when one of our daughters went on a blind date. She was all dressed up and waiting for her date to arrive when the doorbell rang. In walked a man who seemed a little old, but she tried to be polite. She introduced him to me and my wife and the other children; then she put on her coat and went out the door. We watched as she got into the car, but the car didn’t move. Eventually our daughter got out of the car and, red faced, ran back into the house. The man that she thought was her blind date had actually come to pick up another of our daughters who had agreed to be a babysitter for him and his wife. We all had a good laugh over that. In fact, we couldn’t stop laughing. Later, when our daughter’s real blind date showed up, I couldn’t come out to meet him because I was still in the kitchen laughing. Now I realize that our daughter could have felt humiliated and embarrassed. But she laughed with us, and as a result, we still laugh about it today. The next time you’re tempted to groan, you might try to laugh instead. It will extend your life and make the lives of all those around you more enjoyable.

My name is not Tobias. I use that name only when I want someone to remember me. In this case, the bartender. I introduced myself and typed out my name when I first walked in and ordered a drink. He will remember me. He will remember that Tobias is the deaf man who left the bar with a woman he just met. The name was for his benefit, not Petra’s. She will remember me anyway, because how many deaf guys could she have slept with?

Champagne for my wife,” he said without taking his eyes off her. He drew her chair back himself. “Let me introduce you to Natalie and Sam Derrick.” “So this is Eve! I’m just thrilled to meet you.” Natalie flashed a mile-wide grin, even as her gaze tracked over Eve’s clothes. “Glad you could join us.” Sam held out a hand the size of a rump roast, pumped Eve’s twice. “Roarke’s told us it’s hard for you to get away from work.” “I just can’t think how you investigate murders .” Eve glanced back at Natalie. “First I need a body.” She felt Roarke’s hand pat her thigh twice.

My name is Captain Najarian. Most of what’s left of my platoon just call me Cap.” He extended a hand to help Doc up. “The shooter is Corporal Hildie. Her illegal fraternizing partner next to her is Lieutenant Butz. Just call him ‘Buzz’ or he gets mad. This is my wife Dina,” he said, introducing the woman to his right. “And then there’s Chaplin. We think he might be prior military, but since he hasn’t said a word in the two months we’ve known him, we don’t have a clue.

Let me introduce you to my wife." It was the first time Edward had said that word since it was officially true; he seemed like he would explode with satisfaction saying it now.

As further proof of your perversity, in the painting of my dear wife I commissioned – yes, I introduced you to her myself, didn’t I? – in that painting you made the beautiful Shoshana appear ugly, haunted, close to madness.” “I painted what I saw in her.” “It was a mirror she couldn’t handle. Do you know she slashed your canvas to ribbons before she slashed her own flesh?

. I want you. I want everything with you. I want to go to work in the morning knowing that I’ll see you at home every night. I want to be there when you have a terrible day at the hospital, and be the one who reminds you that you are a fantastic doctor. I want to introduce you to every single person I’ve ever met as my wife. I want to travel back to Illinois with you for the holidays. I want the two of us to be on the same team when we play Pictionary with our families, and—” He pressed a firm kiss against my lips. “I want to give you the world, Jamie. Let me. Just let me, please.

He twirled her around a few more times before he said offhandedly, "Aren't you tired of fighting yet? I'm beginning to find it quite tedious m'self. I've even given you the benefit of the doubt-" "Don't do me any favor." He cocked his head to the side because she'd turned away to mumble that. "Are you challenging me to make you sweet and lovable again? I believe you are!" Her eyes flew back to his, but she could't do anything more than sputter over the absurdity. His pale eyes were twinkling, holding back laughter no doubt. What the devil as he doing! Je couldn't be serious.Yet he rubbed his cheek against hers right there on the dance floor! "What-" She should never have turned in toward that unexpected caress. Was she destined to bump lips with him by accident? She drew back instantly while she had the presence of mine to do so. But he didn't.In fact, he moved closer, his mouth actually persuing hers until there was nothing accidental about it! She stumbled as her sensed whirled. That just encouraged him to hold her closer and kiss her more deeply. She was fast approaching the point of not caring! Desperately, she tore her mouth away to gasp out, "You're going to cause a scandal!" "I do believe it would be worth it," he said softly by her ear. "But it's only a minor infraction and quite overlooked, since everyone here knows we're married." "No,they don't.I didn't have it announced." He stopped abruptly. Several other couples even bumped into them. "Why not?" She looked away from his frown, which make her feel distinctly uneasy. How to explain her earlier hesitancy without him seeing it for what it was, a full-blown panic? But he didn't wait for her answer. Suddenly he was leading her off the dance floor. He began a social circuit around the room, missing no one who wasn't currently dancing. From group to group he stopped to introduce Rebecca as his wife,the Marchioness of Rochwood. He did it curtly,as if here completing a task assigned to him, which gave her the odd feeling he was punishing her.She was mortified. Most of those people thought he was joking! They knew him.They knew his reputation. And he wasn't behaving the least bit normally.

How rude of me, we haven’t even introduced ourselves. We’re the Andersons. I’m Evan, the lovely size-zero lass in the floppy sun hat is my wife Amy, and these are our best friends/children, Evan and Amy Jr. As you can see, we’re very fit and active. You know what our family’s average percentage of body fat is? Three. Yes, really. We got it tested last year when we all became organ donors. You may have noticed that I’m carrying Amy on my back. We do that a lot. At least once a day, and not just when we’re in fields like this; we do it on beaches and in urban environments as well. That’s what happens when your love is deep and playful like ours. You should also know that we also dab frosting on each other’s noses every single time we eat cupcakes, which is both mischievous and very us. Do you guys even eat cupcakes?

The present simple tense is usually introduced as a way of talking about habits: I get up at six o’clock. I have tea and toast for breakfast. I leave for work at seven o’clock. In a further unit, the present continuous is likely to be introduced as describing an activity going on at the time of speaking: He’s working in the study I’m writing a letter. They’re playing outside. And in a later unit we are likely to return to the present simple tense while introducing adverbs of frequency to describe how often we do something: I always brush my teeth. He never forgets his wife’s birthday. We often go to the cinema. If we take the message as the input to learning, we are not restricted in this way, allowing us for example to talk about our habits using more complex and varied structures at the early stages of learning. The

The Honorable Ferdy, who had been pondering at intervals all day how his cousin's wife came by such a peculiar name, now introduced a new note into the conversation by saying suddenly, 'Can't make it out at all! You're sure you've got that right, Sherry?' 'Got what right?' 'Hero,' said Ferdy, frowning. 'Look at it which way you like, it don't make sense. For one thing, a hero ain't a female, and for another it ain't a "name." At least,' he added cautiously, 'it ain't one I've ever heard of. Ten to one you've made one of your muffs, Sherry!' 'Oh no, I truly am called Hero!' the lady assured him. 'It's out of Shakespeare.' 'Oh, out of "Shakespeare," is it?' said Ferdy. 'That accounts for my not having heard it before.' 'You're out of Shakespeare too,' said Hero, helping herself liberally from a dish of green peas. 'I am?' Ferdy exclaimed, much struck. 'Yes, in the "Tempest," I think.' 'Well, if that don't beat all!' Ferdy said, looking around at his friends. 'She says I'm out of Shakespeare! Must tell my father that. Shouldn't think he knows.

Despite her grave concern over her uncle, Elizabeth chuckled inwardly as she introduced Duncan. Everyone exhibited the same stunned reaction she had when she’d discovered Ian Thornton’s uncle was a cleric. Her uncle gaped, Alex stared, and the dowager duchess glowered at Ian in disbelief as Duncan politely bent over her hand. “Am I to understand, Kensington,” she demanded of Ian, “that you are related to a man of the cloth?” Ian’s reply was a mocking bow and a sardonic lift of his brows, but Duncan, who was desperate to put a light face on things, tried ineffectually to joke about it. “The news always has a peculiar effect on people,” he told her. “One needn’t think too hard to discover why,” she replied gruffly. Ian opened his mouth to give the outrageous harridan a richly deserved setdown, but Julius Cameron’s presence was worrying him; a moment later it was infuriating him as the man strode to the center of the room and said in a bluff voice, “Now that we’re all together, there’s no reason to dissemble. Bentner, being champagne. Elizabeth, congratulations. I trust you’ll conduct yourself properly as a wife and not spend the man out of what money he has left.” In the deafening silence no one moved, except it seemed to Elizabeth that the entire room was beginning to move. “What?” she breathed finally. “You’re betrothed.” Anger rose up like flames licking inside her, spreading up her limbs. “Really?” she said in a voice of deadly calm, thinking of Sir Francis and John Marchman. “To whom?” To her disbelief, Uncle Julius turned expectantly to Ian, who was looking at him with murder in his eyes. “To me,” he clipped, his icy gaze still on her uncle. “It’s final,” Julius warned her, and then, because he assumed she’d be as pleased as he to discover she had monetary value, he added, “He paid a fortune for the privilege. I didn’t have to give him a shilling.” Elizabeth, who had no idea the two men had ever met before, looked at Ian in wild confusion and mounting anger. “What does he mean?” she demanded in a strangled whisper. “He means,” Ian began tautly, unable to believe all his romantic plans were being demolished, “we are betrothed. The papers have been signed.” “Why, you-you arrogant, overbearing”-She choked back the tears that were cutting off her voice-“you couldn’t even be bothered to ask me?” Dragging his gaze from his prey with an effort, Ian turned to Elizabeth, and his heart wrenched at the way she was looking at him. “Why don’t we go somewhere private where we can discuss this?” he said gently, walking forward and taking her elbow. She twisted free, scorched by his touch. “Oh, no!” she exploded, her body shaking with wrath. “Why guard my sensibilities now? You’ve made a laughingstock of me since the day I set eyes on you. Why stop now?

Christopher observed the passage of the coach from his sight and then turned his gaze to the pair of men who approached them. It was Farrell and Captain Daniels, and while the latter was smiling broadly, the former frowned in sharp disapproval at the couple. Christopher thrust out a hand in greeting to his captain, then looked to his wife’s brother. “Farrell, I don’t think we’ve been properly introduced.” Christopher smiled as he extended his hand. “I am Lord Saxton.” The young man’s eyes widened, and he searched the softly smiling visage of his sister as he mechanically accepted the hand. “Lord Saxton? The Lord Saxton?” “Aye, I am the one who wore the mask and walked with a limp,” Christopher confessed. “ ’Twas done partly to fool the thieves into believing the man they had murdered was still alive, and then too, I desired to wed your sister and found no other way. I hope you will value the friendship we began when you knew me as the cripple.” Farrell tried to grasp all the facts and put them together in their proper places. “You are really married to my sister, and you are the father of her…” Erienne blushed as she glanced hesitantly toward the sea captain, who seemed to be enjoying the whole exchange. His smile broadened as her husband gave a reply. “You needn’t sharpen your skill with firearms to avenge your sister’s honor,” Christopher replied. The teasing gleam in his eyes shone brighter. “ ’Twas quite properly made, I assure you.” -Christopher & Farrell

HE DO THE POLICE IN DIFFERENT VOICES: Part I THE BURIAL OF THE DEAD First we had a couple of feelers down at Tom's place, There was old Tom, boiled to the eyes, blind, (Don't you remember that time after a dance, Top hats and all, we and Silk Hat Harry, And old Tom took us behind, brought out a bottle of fizz, With old Jane, Tom's wife; and we got Joe to sing 'I'm proud of all the Irish blood that's in me, 'There's not a man can say a word agin me'). Then we had dinner in good form, and a couple of Bengal lights. When we got into the show, up in Row A, I tried to put my foot in the drum, and didn't the girl squeal, She never did take to me, a nice guy - but rough; The next thing we were out in the street, Oh it was cold! When will you be good? Blew in to the Opera Exchange, Sopped up some gin, sat in to the cork game, Mr. Fay was there, singing 'The Maid of the Mill'; Then we thought we'd breeze along and take a walk. Then we lost Steve. ('I turned up an hour later down at Myrtle's place. What d'y' mean, she says, at two o'clock in the morning, I'm not in business here for guys like you; We've only had a raid last week, I've been warned twice. Sergeant, I said, I've kept a decent house for twenty years, she says, There's three gents from the Buckingham Club upstairs now, I'm going to retire and live on a farm, she says, There's no money in it now, what with the damage don, And the reputation the place gets, on account off of a few bar-flies, I've kept a clean house for twenty years, she says, And the gents from the Buckingham Club know they're safe here; You was well introduced, but this is the last of you. Get me a woman, I said; you're too drunk, she said, But she gave me a bed, and a bath, and ham and eggs, And now you go get a shave, she said; I had a good laugh, couple of laughs (?) Myrtle was always a good sport'). treated me white. We'd just gone up the alley, a fly cop came along, Looking for trouble; committing a nuisance, he said, You come on to the station. I'm sorry, I said, It's no use being sorry, he said; let me get my hat, I said. Well by a stroke of luck who came by but Mr. Donovan. What's this, officer. You're new on this beat, aint you? I thought so. You know who I am? Yes, I do, Said the fresh cop, very peevish. Then let it alone, These gents are particular friends of mine. - Wasn't it luck? Then we went to the German Club, Us We and Mr. Donovan and his friend Joe Leahy, Heinie Gus Krutzsch Found it shut. I want to get home, said the cabman, We all go the same way home, said Mr. Donovan, Cheer up, Trixie and Stella; and put his foot through the window. The next I know the old cab was hauled up on the avenue, And the cabman and little Ben Levin the tailor, The one who read George Meredith, Were running a hundred yards on a bet, And Mr. Donovan holding the watch. So I got out to see the sunrise, and walked home. * * * * April is the cruellest month, breeding lilacs out of the dead land....

I’m pouring salted peanuts into a heart-shaped crystal bowl (a contribution from Alicia, who brought it out of storage, along with her ice tongs) when John Ambrose McClaren walks into the room in a light blue Oxford shirt and navy sport coat, not dissimilar to Nelson’s! I nearly scream out loud. Clapping my hands to my mouth, I drop to the floor, behind the table. If he sees me, he might run off. I don’t know what he’s doing here, but this is my perfect chance to take him out. I crouch behind the table, running through options in my head. And then the piano music stops and I hear Stormy call out, “Lara Jean? Lara Jean, where are you? Come out from behind the table. I want to introduce you to someone.” Slowly, I rise to my feet. John McClaren is staring at me. “What are you doing here?” he asks me, tugging on his shirt collar like it’s choking him. “I volunteer here,” I say, still keeping a safe distance. Don’t want to spook him. Stormy claps her hands. “You two know each other?” John says, “We’re friends, Grandma. We used to live in the same neighborhood.” “Stormy’s your grandma?” My mind is blown. So John is her grandson she wanted to set me up with! Of all the nursing homes in all the towns in all the world! My grandson looks like a young Robert Redford. He does; he really does. “She’s my great-grandmother by marriage,” John says. Stormy’s eyes dart around the room. “Hush up! I don’t want people knowing you’re my great-anything.” John lowers his voice. “She was my great-grandpa’s second wife.” “My favorite of all my husbands,” Stormy says. “May he rest in peace, that old buzzard.

Dear Ms Brusso, I can only imagine how difficult yesterday was for you. I wanted to again convey my sympathy for you and your family on the terrible loss of Julia. Please know that in the short time we knew her we all found her to be an intelligent and lovely young woman. I hesitate to give you this information but my wife insisted I text you. She feels that, as a mother of daughters herself, she understands your desire to know all that you can about your daughter’s life. This may mean nothing at all but I did see Julia with an older man over lunch one day. It wasn’t on a day she was working for us, but rather a Sunday. She was in the city for lunch with the man and my wife and I happened to run into her near the restaurant where we were meeting friends. I assumed the man was her father but Julia introduced him to us as her former high-school drama teacher. I’m sure it was just a friendly visit but I thought I would let you know about it. Best wishes, Colin Rider I knew it, I knew it, I think, feeling fury course through my body. I had been right all along.

lips “Come on. It’s okay.” But it wasn’t; none of this was. I knew my grandmother. He’d never met her. In all the time we’d been together, even in high school, not once had I ever introduced them. And while I needed answers, now wasn’t the time to try to get them. I had no clue why my grandmother would have temporary custody of a five-year-old, nor why she would have been living with his mother—the woman who’d slept with James years ago. The realization struck her the moment her attention pulled away from Legend to greet us. Before she could speak, James stuck his hand out to introduce himself. “I’m James Carpenter, and this is my wife, Cora.” Her eyes were glued to mine when I identified her first. “Gwendolyn Chase,” I spoke with malice and discontent. And refused to extend my hand as my husband had done. “Cora.” It was a whisper the waves could have carried in with the wind. Her eyes were filled with something akin to remorse, while mine remained hardened. “Dottie, watch!” Legend drew our attention toward him as he did a flip off the bar and landed on his feet in the sand just before he bottomed out. The little boy was captivating and charming and a temporary reprieve from the woman behind me. His fiery-red mop was overgrown and a tad shaggy, and the way the sun reflected off the slightly curled ends made him appear angelic. I couldn’t help but notice his large, brown irises and the smattering

He looked at her for a beat, then said, “Why do I need to introduce you? I don’t introduce you to anyone else.” She whined about him being rude. “All right, you want an introduction? You got it.” He smiled, then said, “Babe, this is one of my slides, Joy. Joy, this is my soon-to-be girl, and if I’m foreseeing the future correctly, she’s going to be my wife. Ruth, don’t worry about her because, by the time that you’re mine, she’ll be long gone.

Gary. I have another reason for talking to you. Let me introduce to you to Mikayla Robertson, she’s your new wife. Mikayla, this is your new husband, Gary Jackson.” Gary stood there, not sure what to say, so he said, “Really? Isn’t this kind of sudden? How can she be my wife if I’ve never seen her, and haven’t even dated her?” “Gary, have you not heard of betrothals? Both of your mothers were impregnated around the same time, by two different KGB agents, by the way. The powers-that-be at the time, decided to have you betrothed to each other. When the time came, and it was appropriate for you two to meet, you would be officially married. So, all I need to do is wed you two. The paperwork is all in order. So, when do you two want to begin?” Gary looked at Mikayla, who had been silent up to this point. She shrugged her shoulders, and said, “I don’t care. Mr. Jackson doesn’t seem like he likes this any better than I do. I had a fiancé, but he mysteriously disappeared, probably no thanks to the KGB or the police of this city. I thought the KGB had forgotten all about this, so I moved on with my personal life.

Come along.” Nick took her arm when they left the box, and with his superior height, navigated her deftly through the crowds. “Where are we going?” Ellen asked, for she did not recognize the path they were traveling. “To meet your fate, my lady,” Nick said, but his eyes were sparkling, and Ellen didn’t realize the significance of his comment until she was being tugged backstage toward a growing buzz of voices. “The green room is this way”—Nick steered her along—“but for you, we will refer to it as the throne room. Ladies and gentlemen…” Nick bellowed as he gently pushed Ellen into a crowded, well-lit room. “Make way for the artist’s muse and for a large fellow bent on reaching that punch bowl.” Applause burst forth, and the crowd parted, leaving Ellen staring across the room at Valentine where he stood, a glass in his hand, still in his formal attire. He’d never looked so handsome to her, or so tired and happy and uncertain. He set the glass down and held out his left hand to her. “My Ellen,” he said, as if introducing her. She tried to make her steps dignified before all these strangers, but then she was walking very quickly, then, hang it, she pelted the rest of the distance right into his arms, holding on to him with every ounce of her strength. She did not leave his side when the duke and duchess were announced or when his various siblings and friends came to congratulate him. She was still right by his side when the duke approached. “Well.” Moreland smiled at his youngest son. “Suppose I was mistaken, then.” “Your Grace?” Ellen heard surprise in Val’s voice, and pleasure. “I kept trying to haze you off in a different direction, afraid the peasants wouldn’t appreciate you for the virtuoso you are.” The duke sipped his drink, gaze roving the crowd until it lit on his wife standing beside Westhaven. “I was worrying for nothing all those years. Of course they’re going to love you—you are my son, after all.” “I am that,” Val said softly, catching his father’s eye. “I always will be.” “I think you’re going to be somebody’s husband too, eh, lad?” The duke winked very boldly at Ellen then sauntered off, having delivered a parting shot worthy of the ducal reputation. “My papa is hell-bent on grandchildren. I hope you are not offended?” Ellen shook her head. “Of course not, but Valentine, we do need to talk.” “We do.” He signaled to Nick, where that worthy fellow stood guarding the punch bowl. Nick nodded imperceptibly in response and called some inane insult over the crowd to Westhaven, who quipped something equally pithy right back to the amusement of all onlookers, while Val and Ellen slipped out the door. By the light of a single tallow candle, he led Ellen to a deserted practice room. He set the candle on the floor before tugging her down beside him on the piano bench. “I can’t marry you,” Ellen said, wanting to make sure the words were said before she lost her resolve. “Hear me out,” Val replied quietly. “I think you’ll change your mind. I hope and pray you’ll change your mind, or all my talent, all my music, all my art means nothing.

Good day everybody, am marina i have a testimony to talk about.. i happened to meet a certain spell caster who was introduced to me by my friend who was suffering from cancer for 2yrs.. she told me how are cancer was cured by a certain spiritualist named agbalagba, i needed to meet himn because i was having problems with my marriage and my business.. my husband was an alchoholic drunk and it gave me sleepless night as wife and a mother.. i contacted gbalagba and he promised to restore everything in my life back again, today am really happy and over joyed because he kept his promise.. i promised to tell the world of his greatness, contact him through this email.. agbalagbatemple@yahoo.com

You’re teaching nursing?” he asked, surprised. She nodded. “I’ve been doing that for the past year or so. Turns out I like it.” “My new sister-in-law, Shelby—she’s a student there, in nursing. Cutest thing you’ll ever see. Best thing that ever happened to Luke. Any chance you know her?” “What year is she in?” Franci asked. “First year. She got married in her first semester because Paddy and Colin were done with their deployments—she waited for all the Riordans to be available. She’s way younger than Luke and is just starting college.” Franci tilted her head and smiled, thinking how sweet it was that cranky, womanizing old Luke ended up with a sweet young girl who was determined to get an education. “I’m pretty sure I haven’t met Luke’s wife. Most of the freshmen are stuck in liberal-arts courses the first year. I teach one medical-surgical course and one that boils down to charting ER patients. I’m just one of many instructors. Mostly, I teach juniors and seniors. I share an office on campus with another nursing instructor and I only teach a couple of days a week. Except for meetings, of which there are too many.” “You never did go for the meetings,” he said with a smile. “I’ll have to tell Shelby to introduce herself. You’ll love her. You’ll—” “One thing at a time, all right?” Franci asked patiently.

No reason to be afraid of Nick,” Jack said. “I could take you down there and introduce you, threaten to sic my wife on him if he steps out of line.” “I bet one knee in the nuts straightens him right out,” Ellie said. There was a strange sound from Noah, something of a growl. “I don’t like this idea at all. If this guy got fresh with you, I’d have to deal with him. That wouldn’t be good.” “Horsefeathers,” Ellie said. “I can take care of myself.” This wouldn’t be the best time to bring up the fact that she was having a tough time doing exactly that—taking care of herself. And in almost exactly twenty-four hours Noah was already feeling the urge to deck the imbecile who would dare put a hand on her. It had been years since he’d been in a fight; it wasn’t nice for ministers to fight. He was supposed to counsel and pray his way out of tight spots. One

Confession. Years ago, I was invited to a cocktail party for an Asian-American networking group. As I introduced myself to a Japanese businessman, I reached out and firmly shook his hand. Much to my embarrassment now, I automatically took my other hand and wrapped our hands in a “hand hug.” This is a common gesture of friendship in the South. As his wife approached, however, she appeared appalled and felt disrespected that I was touching her husband. Our cultural differences were marked. Despite this cultural mishap, I was able to redeem myself. We all moved past it and delighted in an interesting conversation. Physical touch is a touchy topic (pun intended), especially when various cultures are involved.

It will produce branches and bear fruit and become a splendid cedar….” —Ezekiel 17:23 (NIV) I e-mailed my siblings: “Prayers appreciated for a talk I’m giving on Thursday afternoon.” Several responded, relaying the sentiment “God is with you, and so are we.” At the appointed hour, I encouraged participants to compare their prayers to trees. I displayed photographs and artists’ renderings of gnarly olive trees, weeping willows, deserted palms, orange-laden orchards…. I handed out colored pencils and suggested they draw a tree that represented their recent prayers. “Imagine Jesus as the trunk—the core ‘vine’—and your prayers as the branches. Then consider the big picture: Whom is your prayer tree shading or protecting? Where is it in the seasonal cycles—producing hopeful spring blossoms or mature fruit? Do your prayer-branches reach for the sky in praise or bend close to the ground with requests? Is your tree in a solitary setting, or do you prefer praying when you’re surrounded by peers, as in a grove?” Eventually I asked them to explain their pictures. A husband had sketched two leafy trees side by side, representing his prayers with his wife. A mother had envisioned a passel of umbrella-shaped twigs, symbolizing parental prayers of protection. When I was packing up, a woman who’d held back earlier showed me a nearly hidden detail of her flourishing tree. At the base of the trunk, underneath grassy cover, she’d outlined deep roots. “They represent the grounding of my family, my upbringing.” “Oh my!” I smiled. “You introduced a whole new dimension.” I drove home with a revitalized prayer—like limbs stretching upward with thanksgiving—for my natal family and many others who have enriched my relationship with God. Lord, thank You for the grounding of my faith through my family and the family of God. —Evelyn Bence Digging Deeper: Ps 103:17–18; Prv 22:6

Blakeborough has never struck me as the kind of man to overlook criminal behavior, even in his brother.” “True. He has a strong moral sense, even if he does hide it beneath an equally strong aversion to people.” He drew back to stare at her. “Forgive me, sweeting, but I cannot imagine you married to him. His melancholy would give you fits within a month.” “Right,” she teased, “because I’m much better off married to a man who follows plans so slavishly that he stays awake half the night for fear of oversleeping and missing the coronation.” He arched an eyebrow. “I couldn’t sleep for watching you nurse Ambrose. It’s been some time since I…well…saw your charms unveiled in any other capacity. I have to take my pleasures where I may.” “Aw, my poor dear,” she said in mock concern. Deciding to put him out of his misery, she added, “I ought to say that’s what you get for being so unfashionable as to share a bedchamber with your wife, but as it happens, Dr. Worth--” The music abruptly ended, and the sound of a gong being struck broke into everyone’s conversations. They fell silent as Max went to stand at the entrance to the room with Victor and Isabella at his side. “Attention, everyone!” Max clapped his cousin on the back. “I am proud and pleased to introduce to you the new owner of Manton’s Investigations.” Cheers and applause ensued. When it died down, Tristan called out, “So the legal machinations are finally done? Dom has actually let go of the thing at last?” “I signed the papers yesterday,” Dom told his brother. He gazed fondly at Jane. “I decided I’d lost enough of my life to finding other people’s families. Now I’d rather spend time with my own.” “I’ll bet that didn’t stop you from writing a contract of epic proportions.” Lisette grinned at her husband. “How many stipulations did Dom make before he agreed to complete the sale?” “Only one, actually,” Max said. Everyone’s jaw dropped, including Jane’s. She gaped at her husband. “Only one? You didn’t dictate how Victor is to run the thing and when and where and--” “As you once said so eloquently, my love, ‘you can set a plan in motion, but as soon as it involves people, it will rarely commence exactly as you wish.’ There didn’t seem much point in setting forth a plan that wouldn’t be followed.” Dom smirked at her. “I do heed your trenchant observations, you know. Sometimes I even act on them.” She was still staring at him incredulously when he shifted his gaze to Victor. “Besides, Victor is a good man. I trust him to uphold the reputation of Manton’s Investigations.” Jane glanced at Victor. “You’re not going to change the name to ‘Cale Investigations’?” Victor snorted. “I’d have to be mad. Who wants to start from scratch to build a company’s reputation? It’s known for excellence as Manton’s, and it will always be known as Manton’s, as long as I have anything to say about it.” “So what was the one stipulation that Dom required?” Tristan asked. Dom scowled. “That it never, in any official capacity, whether in interviews or correspondence or consultation, be referred to as ‘the Duke’s Men.’” As everyone burst into laughter, Jane stretched up to kiss his cheek. “Now, that sounds more like you, my darling.

Sometimes, You Just Need a Vibrator Coach Sommer introduced me to a Russian medical massage specialist who recommended I use the plug-in (not cordless) model of the Hitachi Magic Wand on its high setting. I’ve never experienced such heights of ecstasy. Thanks, Vladmir! Just kidding. In this case, it’s for relaxing hypertonic muscles (i.e., muscles that are tense even though they shouldn’t be). Just place the wand on your muscle belly (not insertion points) for 20 to 30 seconds, which is often all it takes at the proper hertz. Tension headaches or a stiff neck? It’s great for relaxing the occipitals at the base of the skull. Warning: Having Hitachi Magic Wands lying out around your house can go terribly wrong—or terribly right. Good luck explaining your “hypertonic muscles.” As one friend said to me, “I think my wife has that same problem. . . .”   Gymnast Strong Unusual and Effective Bodyweight Exercises In less than eight weeks of following Coach Sommer’s protocols, I saw unbelievable improvement in areas I’d largely given up on. Try a few of my favorite exercises, and you’ll quickly realize that gymnasts use muscles you didn’t even know you had. QL Walk—An Unusual Warmup

I'm an only child. I'll introduce you to my dad soon. He lives in California with his wife. My mother died during childbirth so I never got a chance to meet her, but I'm sure she would have loved to meet you. I'm going to take a nap. I have class at 8:00 AM. I can't wait to see you again. I love you.

My father stepped aside. “It is my honor to introduce you, Queen Shadya, to my wife, Alva. And my daughter, Orscheid. The Teirness.

His note to her had been brief and circumspect, lest Longleigh intercept it. The duke was a desperately jealous man. Tilly had suffered enough in her marriage; Sin had no wish to be the cause of further pain. “Lady Calliope has agreed to become my betrothed,” he explained, treading carefully. “However, she is in need of some reassurance from you.” Tilly stiffened. “Reassurance? I am not certain how I may provide such comfort.” Regret sliced through him at involving her. He and Tilly were old, trusted friends. Their bond had begun well before their relationship had become physical. Before her marriage to Longleigh as well. He knew, better than most, how private she was, and how she guarded her secrets. Her life with Longleigh depended upon it. “Forgive me,” he entreated softly, hating this. Hating the depths to which he had been forced to sink. “I would not come to you were it not imperative.” He was well aware how out of the ordinary this call was. How beyond the depths of propriety. Affaires were conducted in privacy, behind closed doors. The notion of introducing his future wife to his former mistress was beyond the pale, even by Sin’s standards.

Mom!” I shout. “Mom! Dad!” I reach my mother and come to a stop, my feet sliding in the gravel. Gently, gently, I hug her. She’s thin and I see, no, I feel, against my cheek, that she’s suffered some terrible burn down the side of her face and over her neck. The skin is bandaged in places and shiny in others and she’s in my arms. She’s thin and fragile and she’s in my arms. My mother. My dad puts his arms around the two of us and Alex wriggles into the middle and we’re all laughing and crying. We’re in a big knot. A knot of Grieders. A cluster. A group. A family. My dad kisses the back of my head and Alex’s grin is a mile wide. I’ve never seen Alex so happy and I know I never will see him happier. He did it. He reunited us. * * * In a moment, Astrid will make her way down the drive and I will introduce my parents to my son and my (someday soon) wife. But right now I just let my mom cling to me. “My sweet boy,” she says. “I thought I lost you forever.” I hold my mother, taking care to be gentle, and I tell her I love her.

My wife Anna and I have tried to apply these ideas to our system of parenting. At one point, we had become concerned with how much screen time had crept into our family. Between television, computers, tablets, and smart phones it had become just too easy for the children to waste time on nonessential entertainment. But our attempts to get them to change these habits, as you can imagine, were met with friction. The children would complain whenever we turned the TV off or tried to limit their “screen time.” And we as the parents had to consciously police the situation, which took us away from doing things that were essential. So we introduced a token system.9 The children were given ten tokens at the beginning of the week. These could each be traded in for either thirty minutes of screen time or fifty cents at the end of the week, adding up to $5 or five hours of screen time a week. If a child read a book for thirty minutes, he or she would earn an additional token, which could also be traded in for screen time or for money. The results were incredible: overnight, screen time went down 90 percent, reading went up by the same amount, and the overall effort we had to put into policing the system went way, way down. In other words, nonessential activity dramatically decreased and essential activity dramatically increased. Once a small amount of initial effort was invested to set up the system, it worked without friction. We can all create systems like this both at home and at work. The key is to start small, encourage progress, and celebrate small wins. Here are a few techniques.

Somebody had piled blankets over my shoulders. That was my first hazy thought as I awoke. Heavy, warm blankets. Something tickled my neck and I twitched. The blankets twitched back. My eyes snapped open. In one moment I realized that what tickled my neck was a tuft of black hair, the blankets were a warm body, and the Gentle Lord was draped over me like a lazy cat, his head resting on my shoulder. He raised his face and smiled. The stories were right that called him "the sweet-faced calamity," for he had one of the most beautiful faces I had ever seen: sharp nose and high cheekbones framed with tousled, ink-black hair and stamped all over with the arrogant softness of a man just out of boyhood who had never been defied. He wore a long dark coat with an immaculate white cravat tied at his neck and white lace foaming at his cuffs. If he had been human, I might have taken him for a gentleman. But his eyes had crimson irises with cat-slit pupils. My heart was trying to pound its way out of my chest. I'd spent my whole life preparing for this moment, and I couldn't speak or even move. "Good afternoon," he said. His voice was like cream, light but rich. I pushed myself off the ground and sat up. He sat up too, with languid grace. "What," I managed to choke out. "You were asleep," he said. "I got so bored waiting that I fell asleep too. And now here you are." He tilted his head. "You were a good pillow but I think I prefer you awake. What's your name, lovely wife?

It had become second nature to take the bits and pieces someone told her about themselves and build a unified life story, which she analyzed and checked for consistency. As a result my wife was an almost unerring judge of character, motives, and expected future behavior. I was repeatedly amazed when she applied this to business and professional people I introduced her to for the first time.

What the judge was saying, in essence, was: We all agree that you were poor and scared when you did this violent, hurtful thing, and if you had been allowed to go on working five days a week at Old Country Buffet, refilling soup pots and mopping up frozen yogurt spills, none of us would be here right now. You might have been able to save enough to move to an apartment that was de-leaded and clean in a neighborhood without drug dealers and with safe schools. With time, you may have been able to get Bo-Bo the medical treatment he needs for his seizures, and maybe you could have even started taking night classes to become a nurse, like you always wanted. And, who knows, maybe you could have actually become a nurse, a real nurse with a uniform and everything. Then you could really give your kids a childhood that would look nothing like the one Shortcake gave you. If you did that, you would walk around this cold city with your head held high, and maybe you would eventually come to feel that you were worth something and deserving of a man who could support you other than by lending you his pistol for a stickup or at least one who didn’t break down your door and beat you in front of your children. Maybe you would meet someone with a steady job and get married in a small church with Kendal standing proudly up front by the groom and Tembi as the poofy-dressed flower girl and Bo-Bo as the grinning, toddling ring bearer, just like you always dreamed it, and from that day on your groom would introduce you as “my wife.” But that’s not what happened. What happened was that your hours were cut, and your electricity was about to be shut off, and you and your children were about to be thrown out of your home, and you snatched someone’s purse as your friend pointed a gun at her face. And if it was poverty that caused this crime, who’s to say you won’t do it again? Because you were poor then and you are poor now. We all see the underlying cause, we see it every day in this court, but the justice system is no charity, no jobs program, no Housing Authority. If we cannot pull the weed up from the roots, then at least we can cut it low at the stem.

Carl Sagan, who introduced so many people to the wonders of the cosmos, died in 1996. At an event in 2003, his wife, Ann Druyan, was asked about him. Her response is worth quoting at length: When my husband died, because he was so famous and known for not being a believer, many people would come up to me—it still sometimes happens—and ask me if Carl changed at the end and converted to a belief in an afterlife. They also frequently ask me if I think I will see him again. Carl faced his death with unflagging courage and never sought refuge in illusions. The tragedy was that we knew we would never see each other again. I don’t ever expect to be reunited with Carl. But, the great thing is that when we were together, for nearly twenty years, we lived with a vivid appreciation of how brief and precious life is. We never trivialized the meaning of death by pretending it was anything other than a final parting. Every single moment that we were alive and we were together was miraculous—not miraculous in the sense of inexplicable or supernatural. We knew we were beneficiaries of chance. . . . That pure chance could be so generous and so kind. . . . That we could find each other, as Carl wrote so beautifully in Cosmos, you know, in the vastness of space and the immensity of time. . . . That we could be together for twenty years. That is something which sustains me and it’s much more meaningful. . . . The way he treated me and the way I treated him, the way we took care of each other and our family, while he lived. That is so much more important than the idea I will see him someday. I don’t think I’ll ever see Carl again. But I saw him. We saw each other. We found each other in the cosmos, and that was wonderful.

Seven years ago tonight, every dream I ever had came true. That's not something too many men get to claim. I'm very lucky, blessed, whichever you believe. Probably a lot of both. Tonight marks the anniversary of my debut performance at Ceasars Palace." On his cue, the crowd whipped into congratulary rapture. Blindsided by his recollection, Isavel was motionless. That's what he recalls happening on this date? "Indulgent, lazy, self-centered... jerk!" she said, grabbing her purse, thinking she'd climb over the seat. "I'm going home!" Before she could turn, hositing herself over, a spotlight landed on her. In the darkened arena Aidan and Isabel were face-to-face. He stared. The same way he did years ago in his pickup truck, holding tight to her wrist, the same way he did on the dance floor at the gala. The same way he did in the moment she left him. "If you can believe it," he said, still staring, "something even more important happened that day. As dreams of fame and fortune go, this topped everything. I've always know that." Then, in a softer voice: "And I'm a fool because I should have never given up." Even from her vantage point, Isabel could see the gulp roll through his throat. "It's my great privilege this evening to introduce my wife, Isabel Royce." He gestered to the box. Isabel responded by sinking to her seat. "What's he talking about?" she hissed to Mary Louise. "We're divorced!" From her right, Tanya nudged her. It was like being on a palace balcony, Isabel offering a deer-in-the-headlights wave to the subjects, a thoroughly baffled look at Aidan. In return, he smiled at her clear confusion. "My wife ..." Why is he calling me that? There was a mixed reaction, lots of gasps, some applause, and the disappointed groans from female fans. "She's done me the tremendous honor of making a rare appearance at one of my shows. Seven years ago, she agreed to marry me. At the time, my life was more trouble than promise. We were two scared kids who had nothing but each other. Really, it was all I needed. We were married in true Vegas fashion." Hoots and hollers echoed, his glance dropping to the stage floor. Sharing this was making the performer uncomfortable. He pushed on. "While most women would have been satisfied with a ring ... " His long fingers fluttered over the snake. "This was Isabel's idea of a permanent bond." It drew a wave of subtle laughter, Isabel included. "Do you remember how the story went?" he said, speaking only to Isabel in a crowd of thousands. "As long as I had it, I'd never be without you. Turns out, it wasn't a story, it was the absolute truth. Lately though," he said, turning back to his public narrative, "circumstance, some serious, some calculated, has prevented me from getting my wife's attention. So tonight I resorted to an old performer's trick, a captive audience. I planned this moment, Isabel, knowing you'd be here. Regardless of anything you may believe, I meant what I said on our wedding night, in the moment I said it. I love you. I always have.

My Book event was kindly arranged by Brendon books of Bath Place, Taunton on 14th March 2024 I concluded my talk with a verse :- The tropical island of Sri-Lanka was surrounded by a flood Which swept a train right off its rails and buried it in mud We had always loved the place and made there many friends So I went on a kind of pilgrimage to help them make amends I took with me my Brother's french Wife and Arthur's Brother Fred I wanted to help not just myself but friends in need instead Asked Arthur C. who I should help, aware there'd be corruption There are always unscrupulous people in disasters and disruption He put us on to Valerie, Wife of Hector Arthur's SCUBA diver We thus found someone trustworthy instead of some conniver She introduced us to Stefan Birckmann a German fellow there Who was working hard to help children and others in despair In Hospitals and Orphanages, German Stefan staged events Of traditional Puppets he'd revived in villages of tents The puppets were a psychological boost were so short of resource So I donated a thousand dollars to keep them on their course The Unicef stepped-in to keep them entertaining I found helping so rewarding and then came home to find it raining So spare a thought for others when they're in their hour of need Stop thinking of only yourself and banish selfishness and greed.

History is my strong suit." She had long ago taken it upon herself to read every book in the palace library, after discovering just how flimsy her education was. While the sons and daughters of palace courtiers came home from school each day brimming with new knowledge, Jasmine was kept at home with a tutor--- and her private lessons in etiquette and art weren't exactly the foundation that kings were built on. Sometimes Jasmine had the sneaking suspicion that Taminah never expected her to end up on the throne at all, that she was preparing the princess to be a royal wife instead. After all, she had mentioned more than once the possibility of Jasmine having a son in the future who could rule in her stead. But one other thing the older woman had done right was introduce Jasmine to books, especially Agrabah's myths and fables, in which terrors jumped from every page. Stories with heroes and demons so vivid, they could have been real. After she had read all the stories she could get her hands on, Jasmine moved on to history texts and illustrated maps. Hers might have been an incomplete education, but those books allowed a sheltered princess to see some of the world, both real and imagined. And they gave her a window into the past.

While living there as a foreigner, 2 Abraham introduced his wife, Sarah, by saying, “She is my sister.” So King Abimelech of Gerar sent for Sarah and had her brought to him at his palace. 3 But that night God came to Abimelech in a dream and told him, “You are a dead man, for that woman you have taken is already married!” 4 But Abimelech had not slept with her yet,

People just come and do things around him, making decisions for him - same as politicians and even our bosses do for us. They're the ones who run our lives. Adverts tell us what to buy, government tells us how to live, technology tells us when we have done something wrong. and coffees arrived 'on the house' "no we will pay for them" "You're rubbish at this game, Foxy. I have been lying to my wife since the morning after the honeymoon..." "what was the lie?" "I told her she was really something in the sack..." "I don't think so you introduced yourself..." "I gave my card to your daughter," Fox answered. "My...?" Realization dawned on Wishaw. "That was my wife" "Then you should be ashamed," Fox said, deciding this was as good a parting shot as any. If walls have ears, then windows definitely have eyes. :this was family. That explained a lot. Where family was involved, the normal rules did not apply.

No matter the truth, I was still put into the horribly humiliating situation of having “his wife” introduce herself to me in front of my entire family.

me. He keeps introducing me to his work friends as his beloved wife causing my stomach to twist every time he does it. But I pretend because I know how dangerous he is. It seems he’s had more to drink tonight than

You could become accustomed to my presence, Isabel.” He was not merely making a suggestion. She heard the unmistakable ring of promise in his voice. Authority. Well, she recalled that part of being a wife very well. “Is that what having me bathe you is about, then?” Her voice quivered with her temper. “To introduce me to the position that is now mine by your decree?” He continued to look out the window, giving her only his back to scrub. “We are both past the age of sonnets delivered through our servants.” “Aye, there is naught sweetly gallant about you, sir.” She turned in a swirl of her robes and made it three steps before Ramon’s deep voice stopped her. “Nor is there anything sweetly demure about you.

I promised my daughter I would introduce her to Detective Pikachu if she let me pee in privacy.

With little else to do I rode my Vesper motor scooter from Harbel to Roberts Field. Perhaps there might be some excitement around the airport, but no such luck. Eric Reeves the Station Master and Air Traffic Controller was in the tower and was in communications with the incoming airliner. Everything was quiet in anticipation of a Pan American Clipper's arrival. On the ground floor all was quiet except for a solitary passenger in the terminal. Apparently he was waiting for the next flight out, which wasn't due for another two hours. As I approached him, I could see that he looked familiar…. I immediately recognized him as a world class trumpet player and gravel voiced singer from New Orleans. He must have seen the look on my face and broke the ice by introducing himself as Louie Armstrong. "Hi," I answered, "I'm Hank Bracker, Captain Hank Bracker." I noticed that he was apparently alone sitting there with a mountain of belongings which obviously included musical instruments. Here was Louis Armstrong, the famous Louie Armstrong, all alone in this dusty, hot terminal, and yes he had a big white handkerchief! He volunteered that the others in his party were at the club looking for something to eat. With no one else around, we talked about New Orleans, his music and how someone named King Oliver, a person I had never heard of, was his mentor. At the time I didn't know much about Dixie Land music or the Blues, but talking to Louie Armstrong was a thrill I'll never forget. In retrospect it’s amazing to find out that you don’t know what you didn’t know. I found out that he actually lived in Queens, NY at that time, not too far from where my aunt and uncle lived. I also found out that he was the Good Will Ambassador at Large and represented the United States on a tour that included Europe and Africa, but now he was just a friendly person I had the good fortune to meet, under these most unusual circumstances. His destination was Ghana where he, his wife and his band the All Stars group were scheduled to perform a concert in the capitol city of Accra. Little did I know that the tour he was on was scheduled by Edward R. Murrow, who would later be my neighbor in Pawling, New York. Although our time together was limited, it was obvious that he had compassion for the people of the "Third World Nations," and wanted to help them. Although after our short time together, I never saw Louie again but I just know that he did. He seemed to be the type of person that could bring sunshine with him wherever he went.…

Later, when there's an opportunity, I want to introduce you to your two remaining siblings. You would enjoy their company. You and Gabriel, in particular, are much alike in temperament. He married into the Ravenel family, and his wife is a thoroughly charming woman---" "Oh, Pandora is my favorite!" came a new voice from the doorway, and they both glanced at the threshold where Seraphina was standing. "She's very witty and fun, and a bit odd in the nicest possible way." With her slender form clad in a green dress, and her brilliant golden-red hair trailing over her shoulder in a thick braid, she reminded Keir of a mermaid.

What to read next? Hm…well, if you want more Carrie Jo, check out the Idlewood books. She’s at a new house, and there are heartbreaking child ghosts that need her help, but be warned, you’ll love them too. Most of them, anyway. I have also completed a historical fiction series about Queen Nefertiti. It’s called the Desert Queen series, and I’m very happy with it. If you fancy a bit of adventure in ancient Egypt, check it out. The first book in that series, The Tale of Nefret, is on Kindle. I also have a spooky plantation series called Sugar Hill. There are five books in that one: The Wife of the Left Hand, The Ramparts, and Blood by Candlelight, The Starlight Ball, and His Lovely Garden. I can’t wait to introduce you to the Dufresne family and take you through their plantation, Sugar Hill. Like Seven Sisters, the series will be chock-full of Southern folklore and historical places. Sugar Hill is like Gone With the Wind, but with ghosts! Thanks again for staying with me through this series. I appreciate all your kind words, the reviews, and the emails. Don’t forget to sign up for my mailing list or follow me on Amazon or BookBub so you can get the newest release information right in your inbox. I’ve got a website too that I visit infrequently. Check it out. See y’all soon. M.L. Bullock Christmas at Seven Sisters Three Short Stories from the Seven Sisters Series By M.L.

day something happens in your life that presents you with a choice and it’s up to you what you do with that choice. It’s easy to play safe and stick with what we know. ‘But I’m wild,’ I thought. ‘I refuse to play safe.’ At the end of Valentine’s Day, as if sensing the waves of frustration and claustrophobia coming from the cast, the captain decided to give us the whole of the following day off, which was practically unheard of. To say that we needed to flop on a sun-soaked tropical beach makes us sound like spoilt brats and actually a freezing-cold stroll along the front at Blackpool would have been just as welcome if it had distracted us from our tired bodies and whirring minds. Anything to get away from relentlessly running through new routines to replace routines that had been reworked and replaced several times already. When I’m feeling low, it doesn’t usually take long for me to bounce back. At the end of a day spent lazing with the dancers on the beach I felt refreshed and renewed. ‘I’m definitely going to resign,’ I thought as I showered and dressed for the evening. It was the right decision and I vowed to deliver my letter in the morning. I ran my fingers through my hair and winked at my reflection in the mirror. Then I went up to the bar and my whole life changed in an instant. 10 The Way You Look Tonight The night I met Henrik Brixen I was ready for a bit of romance in my life. I hadn’t had a serious relationship in years, it was time. ‘I’m looking for the man of my dreams,’ I confided in my friends. ‘He’s got to be tall, blond, handsome, strong and ambitious …’ They laughed. ‘Not asking much, then?’ My friend, Günter Boodenstein, was on the lookout for me. Günter oversaw the ship’s engines and I often had a drink with him and his wife, Angelica, when she came aboard; they were lovely people and we became very pally. I bumped into Günter on the gangway as I was leaving the ship to go to the beach with the dancers on my day off. ‘Waiting for someone?’ I asked him. His face lit up. ‘Jane! You’re just the person I wanted to see. I have someone called Henrik Brixen coming onboard to have a look at the boiler.’ ‘Oh, yes? Up my street?’ He smiled. ‘Right up your street.’ A boiler man didn’t sound very promising, but I was prepared to keep an open mind. Günter and I agreed to meet up in the bar later and I went off to the beach. When Henrik arrived, Günter told him, ‘There’s a girl you should meet.’ Was there something in the stars that night? There was definitely some kind of magic, because the air seemed to glitter as Günter introduced me