In Quest of a Gentler Man

By Marianne Dora Rose

One of Leslie's duties at the bank was to oversee mortgage and loan applications. That morning, a young couple, Jessica and Jason Stocklin, had finished filling out the necessary bank documents to prepare for the Finalization and Closing of their pending mortgage. Leslie watched the couple leave the bank, tired after the tedious amount of pages that had required their signatures, but with smiles on their faces evidencing their satisfaction and anticipation.
She sighed, overcome and awed by the love she had glimpsed between the two. Why was it, she wondered, if Jason, crippled and hurting ... what the men she had dated would consider a major flaw ... inspired such affection as shown on Jessica's face, why was it, she wondered, that her own flaw, manageable to say the least, kept her from finding a man capable of loving her with as strong a love as Jessica’s love for her husband. If such a man existed, he'd need to have a gentler soul than any of the men she'd dated.
Leslie had long ago admitted to herself, her flaw that distanced suitors. It wasn't her intellect or her looks. She was smart, Data Entry Supervisor at the downtown branch near Battery Park in Manhattan. And she was attractive with long dark hair and matching wide, expressive eyes that she'd been told, sparkled with enthusiasm whenever she took over a conversation she enjoyed. That was her flaw ... not the sparkle or enthusiasm ... but her taking over a conversation without meaning to be insensitive or deliberate. When the Stocklins invited her to dinner at the home of their best friends, Abby and John Sands, she accepted. ... With no doorbell in sight, she tried the storm door. Luckily, it was unlocked. She lifted the knocker and was surprised to hear the sound of a three-note bell as the ring knocker met wood. She smiled, and curiosity getting the best of her, she knocked again with the same result. What a unique idea, she thought, as she’d never encountered a doorbell camouflaged as a door knocker.
She waited for a response, but none came. Finally, she used the knocker again. This time she heard voices and shuffling noises behind the door. It opened. Expecting one of the Stocklins or Sands, she stood gaping a moment at the stranger gazing back at her. He was tall, well-built, with light brown hair and brown eyes. Whatever he might appear to others, she thought him handsome, so much so that she caught herself openly and unashamedly staring. Mercifully, his greeting brought her back to her senses.
“You must be Leslie,” he said. “You match Abby’s description exactly.”
She nodded, swallowing nervously.
She heard Abby’s voice coming from behind him. “Is it Leslie?”
“Yes, it’s her.”
“I hope I’m not too early,” Leslie said, forcing herself to look behind him towards Abby’s voice.
“Not at all,” the stranger said. He had a refined tenor’s voice. “Please come in,” he offered, opening the door wide for her to enter. “I’m Andrew, Jason’s brother.”

• Language: English
• Publisher: Marianne Dora Rose
• Release date: Dec 20, 2020
• ISBN: 9781005055455

Marianne Dora Rose

About the AuthorDorothy Paula Freda, is also known under her pen names Paula Freda and Marianne Dora Rose. Herbooks range from Fiction and Non-fiction Adventure, Romance, Fantasy, Sci-Fi, Poetry, Articles, Essays and How-to-Write Instructional complete with Lessons and optional assignments.Homemaker, mother of two grown sons, and former off-the-desk publisher of a family-oriented print small press, (1984 thru 1999), The Pink Chameleon, that she now publishes on line, Paula was raised by her grandmother and mother, and has been writing for as long as she can remember. Even before she could set pencil to paper, she would spin her stories in the recording booths in the Brooklyn Coney Island Arcades for a quarter per 3-minute record. She states, "I love the English language, love words and seeing them on display, typed and alive. A romantic at heart, I write simply and emotionally. One of my former editors kindly described my work, '...her pieces are always deep, gentle and refreshing....'" Paula further states, "My stories are sensitive, deeply emotional, sensual when appropriate, yet non-graphic, family fare, pageturners. My hope is that my writing will bring entertainment and uplift the human spirit, bring a smile to your face and your soul, and leave you filled with a generous amount of hope."

Book preview

In Quest of a Gentler Man

(Leslie’s Story)

By Dorothy P. Freda

(writing as Marianne Dora Rose)

© April 23, 2020 by Dorothy P. Freda

(Pseudonyms - Marianne Dora Rose aka

Paula Freda)

Smashwords Edition

Bookcover and interior photos licensed by

Dorothy P. Freda from iStockphoto.com and

Dreamstime.com

Wikipedia - Battery Park City - Esplanade

2010 - Gryffindor - own work

licensed under the Creative Commons Attribution-Share Alike 3.0 Unported license

All rights reserved, including the right to reproduce this book or portions thereof. This is a work of fiction; names, characters, places and incidents are a product of the author's imagination. Any resemblance to persons living or dead is purely coincidental.

DEDICATION

With thanks to my Dear Lord Jesus and his Blessed Mother Mary whose strength, guidance, and her Holy Rosary, are my anchor in this troubled world, I dedicate this book to my husband, Domenick, whose love, patience and kindness over 48 years kept my dreams and view of the romantic alive and vibrant.

The Lord is our anchor, the anchor we cling to, that keeps our souls afloat, no matter how stormy the sea. Jesus, Son of God, our lifeline. His mother Mary, Blessed Lady, our lifebuoy. Joseph, our cloak, and the Holy Spirit, our wisdom, the map, the path to the Lord.

CHAPTER ONE

Leslie entered her cubicle and sat down at her computer. She hadn't slept well last night. Blame it on cross-country jet lag, she thought, staring at the unlit screen. She ought to have taken a sick day. But she didn’t feel sick in the physical sense of the word. Depressed was more like it. Not that she didn’t have a wonderful time during the past week's summer vacation, a group tour of San Diego, sponsored gratis by Jeffrey Bradford, the former Executive President of the bank's New York City downtown branch where she worked on the tenth floor as Head Data Entry Clerk in the Loan and Mortgage Department.

Jeffrey's father, wealthy, on the bank's board of directors, and its major funder, had held the position of Branch Executive President until his retirement ten years ago. He'd had no problem designating Jeffrey as his replacement.

Jeffrey, smart, intelligent, and trustworthy, made his father and the bank's echelon proud. Recently he'd self-initiated his transfer to the San Diego branch and passed on his position to the Loan and Mortgage Department Manager, David Albamonte, who had seniority and was well qualified to replace him.

Gossip was among Leslie's co-workers, that marital problems with his wife Jacklyn influenced Jeffrey's move to San Diego, taking her with him.

Not far from the truth, Leslie pondered.

Good morning, Leslie. The masculine alto voice intruded on her thoughts. She turned and looked up at Jack standing behind the side of her cubicle, looking down at her over the partition. In his mid-thirties, like herself, she considered him attractive, a pleasant man whom she'd dated for the past ten weeks. But that was over now, after he'd told her he needed some space. Not that she fully blamed him. It was not the first time that someone she’d allowed into her solitary life, had used that excuse to let her down easily.

She had long ago admitted to herself, her flaw that distanced suitors. It wasn't her looks. She was attractive with long dark hair and matching wide, expressive eyes that she'd been told, sparkled with enthusiasm whenever she took over a conversation she enjoyed. That was her flaw … not the sparkle or enthusiasm … but her taking over a conversation without meaning to be insensitive or deliberate. Her hamartia, as the ancient Greek philosopher Aristotle referred to the character trait that ultimately brought about the hero’s downfall.

Jack, similar to the other men she'd dated, had lost patience with her character flaw, and, lucky for her, with her belief, hands-off until married.

Good morning, Jack, she replied. She gave him a quick smile and turned back to the blank screen on her computer. If he needed to say anything further, she didn't care to hear it. Fortunately, the bank's landline beside her computer rang. She answered quickly. A newly approved mortgagee needed her to create a file and oversee the initial transaction. Send him up, she told the clerk on the phone.

We have a problem, the girl replied.

Problem? Leslie inquired.

Yes, the girl lowered her voice to a whisper. He's handicapped, on steel crutches. I-I thought perhaps—

No need to worry. I'll be right down. Get the forms out he'll need to fill and sign.

Sure thing. Thank you.

Another characteristic that some prospective suitors considered a flaw. She had a gentle heart.

Her desk followed the length and width of her cubicle with two-drawer file cabinets and shelving tucked neatly beneath for quick access. She bent and opened the top file drawer next to where she sat and chose some forms that she suspected might not be readily available on the ground level where average banking was transacted. Then she hurried to the elevators in the hall.

Supporting himself with forearm cuffed steel crutches, the handicapped customer waited beside the desk of the bank rep who had called Leslie. He was a well-dressed man in a dark charcoal grey suit, dress shirt and tie. Between the lapels of his suit jacket, Leslie glimpsed the top of the steel brace circling his upper torso.

Application forms in hand, she approached him with a smile and greeted him. Good morning, sir. I'm Miss Leslie Wisman, and I'll be happy to help you complete your application. About to ask him to accompany her to a spare desk nearby with a chair for the customer beside it, she remembered glimpsing the top of the steel brace circling his upper torso. Are you able to sit? she asked, in a respectful tone.

Yes, he said, but it takes effort. If you don't mind, I prefer to stand.

Of course, Leslie said. We can use a customer counter.

Hallie, do you have the standard forms ready?

The girl handed her several sheets with the name and social security number of the mortgagee already entered.

She led him to a marble-topped counter, edged with slots containing various bank slips, and chained pens for the customers' use.

She felt compassion for him listening to his harried efforts as he utilized the crutches, moving stiffly but steadily behind her.

When they had reached the customer counter, she suggested, These applications can be lengthy and tedious. If you should tire, I can get you a stool from the Teller's booths. Please don't hesitate to ask.

The man smiled. He had soft hazel eyes and