John Blanchard stood up from the bench, straightened his
Army uniform, and studied the crowd of people making their
way through Grand Central Station.
He looked for a girl whose heart he knew, but whose face he
didn't, the girl with the rose.

His interest in her had begin thirteen months before in a Florida
library. Taking a book off the shelf he found himself intrigued,
not with the words of the book, but with the notes penciled in
the margin.

The soft handwriting reflected a thoughtful soul
and insightful mind.
In the front of the book, he discovered the previous owners
name, Miss Hollis Maynell.
With time and effort he located her address.

She lived in New York City.

He wrote her a letter introducing himself and
inviting her to correspond.
The next day he was shipped overseas for service in World
War II.

During the next year and one month the two grew to
know each other tru mail.
Each letter was a seed falling on a fertile heart.
A romance was budding.
Blanchard requested a photograph, but she refused.
She felt that if he really cared, it wouldn't matter
what she looked like.
When the day finally came for him to return from Europe,
they scheduled their first meeting

7:00 PM at the Grand Central Station in New York.
"you'll recognize me," she wrote,
"by the red rose I'll will be wearing on my lapel."

So at 7:00he was in the station looking for a girl whose heart
he loved ,but whose face he'd never seen.

I'll let Mr. Blanchard tell you what happened.:

A young woman was coming toward me, her figure long and
slim.
Her blonde hair lay back in curls from her delicate ears;
her eyes were blue as flowers.
Her lips and chin had a gentle firmness, and in her pale green
suit she was like springtime come alive.
I started toward her,entirely forgetting to notice that she was
not wearing a rose.
As I moved, a small provocative smile curved her lips.
"Going my way sailor?" she murmured.

Almost uncontrollably I made on step closer to her and then
I saw Hollis Maynell.
She was standing almost directly behind the girl.
A woman well past 40, she had graying hair tucked
under her worn hat.

She was more than plump, her thick-ankled feet
thrust into low heeled shoes.
The girl in the green suit was walking quickly away.
I felt as though I was split in two, so keen was my desire to
follow her, and yet so deep in my longing for the woman
whose spirit had truly companioned me and upheld my own.

And there she stood.
Her pale plump face was gentle and sensible, her gray eyes
had a warm kindly twinkle.
I did not hesitate.
My fingers gripped the small worn blue leather copy of the
book that was to identify me to her.
This would not be love, but it would be something precious ,
something perhaps even better than love, a friendship for
which I had been and must ever be grateful.

I squared my shoulders and saluted and held out the book to
the woman, even though while I spoke I felt choked by the
bitterness of my disappointment.
"I'm Lieutenant John Blanchard, and you must be Miss Maynell.
I am so glad you could meet me, may I take you to dinner?"

The woman's face broadened into a tolerant smile.
"I don't know what this is about son," she answered,
" but the young lady in the green suite begged me to wear
this rose on my coat.
And she said if you were to ask me out to dinner, I should go
and tell you she is waiting for you in the big restaurant across
the street.
She said it was some kind of a test."
end.....

Its not difficult to understand and admire Miss Maynell's
wisdom.
"The true nature of a heart is seen in its response to the
unattractive."
"Tell me whom you love, and I will tell you who you are.."

- Devena