"This note was left for you this morning," Carrie's mom said when she came downstairs early one morning. "I have no idea who it is from, nor from where it came. It was just stuck on the front door when I came in from the garden."
Taking the envelope from her mothers hand, Caroline turned it over looking for some hint as to who it could be from. It was nothing but a plain white envelope with her name in block letters written in black ink. There was no clue as to who it could have been from, not even if it was male or female.
Carefully opening the envelope she removed the short handwritten note inside. The handwriting on the note was just like on the outside of the envelope. Instantly looking at the end, she saw no signature.
Reading the note she felt her face burn lightly as a faint blush reddened her cheeks, "Yesterday, I saw you standing by the Garden's gate, as you stopped for a moment to smell the beautiful roses. I was awed at the way their beauty pales in comparison to yours. From afar, I admire you, until the day my desire to hear your angelic voice whisper my name, overcomes the fear that makes my heart pound heavily in my chest."
"What does it say?" her mother asked. "Who is it from?"
Rereading it aloud to her mother, Caroline added softly, "There is no signature, so I don't know who it is from. It must be someone playing a joke on me though."
"It doesn't sound like a prank to me my dear," her mother assured her. "It sounds to me that you have an admirer."
Scanning the words for a third time Caroline thought over the words in the note and the words her mother had spoken. She was having a hard time understanding how anyone could see her in such a light. At nineteen, she didn't think she was anything extraordinary. She knew she was far from beautiful, at least by conventional standards. Her brown hair hung straight, not with the stylish waves of many young women. Her hazel eyes were nothing exceptional, although they did tend to sparkle with a life of their own. She was heavy set and knew most men saw nothing attractive in her, yet here was someone who thought she was beautiful. Was it possible this was real?
Without another word she walked back upstairs to her bedroom and placed the note on her dresser. Maybe she would never get another one, but she would always cherish this one, regardless of the reason behind it. Even if she never learned the name of the sender, for that one moment in time she felt like a princess. She felt beautiful and special.
Caroline went about the rest of her day just as always. Helping her mother in the kitchen, then completing the remainder of her chores for the day. Later in the afternoon, just as she did everyday, she walked down to the garden gate to sit on the bench her father had placed there so she could read.
Today, however, her book couldn't hold her attention. She was preoccupied with the passersby, raising her head to gaze at each one who went by. Wondering if one of them could be the one who had sent the note, but none of them even gave more than a casual glance her way.
As the late afternoon light began to fade, she stood before the gate. This has been a daily ritual for her since her father had passed away. It was her time with him. He had helped her mother plant the roses and placed the bench there for her. It was the one place she felt closest to him.
Smelling one final rose, she returned to the house, all thoughts of the note forgotten. After telling her mother good night, she retired for the evening. Pulling the covers up to her chin, she drifted off to sleep, plans for the next day drifting through her mind.
For the next several months, at least every other day, her mother would hand her an envelope with the same type of note nestled inside. She began to look forward to receiving them, spent many hours wondering about their author. Each one contained such beautiful words, words that touched her heart, gave her reason to hope, to dream.
In early fall, two weeks passed with no note. She silently worried her admirer had lost interest in her. She was afraid she had allowed herself to feel something for someone she had never met and now he was gone. Maybe she had been right to begin with, maybe it was all a joke.
Finally one morning her mother met her at the foot of the steps smiling, a white envelope in her hand. "This was waiting for you when I came in this morning."
Taking the note from her mothers hand, she immediately noticed something different. Drawn beneath her name was a single red rose. With trembling fingers she opened the envelope and removed the note inside. "The moment finally arrives when the deep desires within my heart can no longer be contained. With every fiber of my being, I am drawn to, compelled to that garden gate. A vigilant sentinel against the quantum of fears that have held me back for so long. It is without reservation or doubt that I wait for you, my darling love. My very soul cries out to the heavens with each passing moment we are apart. I need you, I want you, as much as I need the very air that fills my lungs. I will be waiting as the sun sinks below the horizon, if you, my darling Caroline, return my feelings of love, I will see you there."
The day couldn't pass quickly enough. All she could think of was the coming evening, the moment she would finally meet him. Rushing through all her chores the time finally came.
Walking down the garden path she saw him standing there, waiting for her, a single red rose in his hand. As her eyes met his, she recognized him immediately. It was Andrew, her childhood friend, who had moved when they were younger. She hadn't heard from him since the day they said good-bye. Now he stood before her to profess his love for her.
"I loved you when we younger, and I love you even more now," he said taking her hand in his, kneeling in front of her. "Caroline, would you do me the honor of becoming my wife?"
Tears of love and joy flowed silently down her cheeks as she replied, "It would be my honor."
Pulling her into his arms, he gently pressed his lips to hers. In the place he had admired her beauty, they shared their first kiss, amidst the smell of roses, by the garden gate.