Long-Distance Love

This transatlantic romance was as unexpected as it was wonderful

- Bobbie Ann Cole

A bald eagle circled above Fredericton’s spires as we crossed the broad St. John River and left the city. It was a curious place for the bird to be hunting, I thought. “Well, I finally got to meet your brother,” I said to my friend Terry, who was driving.

I had felt at ease with Butch. There had been instant chemistry between us. After two years in the wilderness, ducking all advances following my sad divorce, a whiff of chemistry was worth its weight in gold.

This had been a great visit to my New Brunswick friend, but it was time to return to my native England.

The sun streaming in through my bedroom window the next morning warmed the clothes I was laying in my suitcase, leaving me outside its rays. Butch and I lived continents apart.

I wanted to marry him. How silly was that? Downstairs in the kitchen, feeling about 14, although I was 55, I told Terry, “I like your brother.”