"Winifred, Jane I'm so happy you could come." Helen Allard, or as she was now Mrs. Andrew West, smiled down at the two ladies seated at the table. "Have you had a chance to speak to Mother?"

"A little," replied Winifred, "But you know how busy weddings are. She couldn't spare us much time with all the other guests. How pretty you look Helen. You're such a lovely bride. I'm so glad you and Andrew were able to resolve your differences and get married in church."

"Oh, I don't think Andy and I had any real differences," said Helen. "Our priests were the ones who disagreed. I'd just as soon have gotten married in the registrar's office, but it made Mother happy."

"Kate sends her best wishes," said Winifred. "She wanted so badly to come, but the doctor says she needs to stay close to home. The baby could come any time now."

"I wish she had come," said Helen. "How often do a doctor and a nurse get married? Between us and our friends from the hospital we could have handled just about anything."

Helen looked around and seeing no one nearby spoke to Winifred. "Would you mind terribly if I sat down for a moment and took my shoes off? If I slide my feet under the table no one will see."

At Winifred's nod, Helen sat down and quickly slipped her shoes off. She sighed in relief then smiled at Jane. "If you ever do this Jane," she said, "Make sure you wear a long dress and comfortable shoes."

Jane was not sure how to reply. After her own engagement had ended so disastrously a couple years ago, Jane had acknowledged to herself that she was a bit too sensitive about the subject. Still, it was hard to deal with friends who simply assumed you wanted to be romantically involved or were eager to point you in the direction of happiness.

Her thoughts were interrupted by a loud burst of masculine laughter. Helen looked across the room where her new husband was standing with a group of his friends. "Just listen to them," she said fondly, "They're like a bunch of little boys. This is the first time all of them have been together in years."

Looking over, Jane's attention was caught by one of the men with his back to her. His suit was too large, the pants bagging around his ankles and the arms coming down almost to the ends of his fingers. Was that...Jane looked at him puzzled. Yes, it looked as if his hair was pulled back and tucked in under his collar.

"I see you've noticed the pirate," said Helen

"Pirate?"

"That's what I call him. His name is Jack. Andy's known him since they were boys. He blew in yesterday morning from who knows where and said he could play for our wedding. Andy was over the moon. He said it was the best wedding present we could have."

"But doesn't the church have an organist?" asked Winifred.

"Yes, it does," said Helen, "A real dragon. Mrs. North doesn't let anyone near the loft, let alone the organ. I told Andy, but he said it would all be fine. Apparently, the pirate is as charming as he is talented. Mrs. North has been as gentle as a lamb all day."

"I thought the music was very good," said Winifred.

"Oh yes. There's nothing wrong with his playing, except I couldn't come in on Lohengrin like I planned. I had to pick something else."

"Why?"

"I'm not sure. Something left over from his and Andy's Catholic upbringing. Fortunately, I've always liked the Queen of Sheba as long as it's slow enough that you don't have to run down the aisle. And for some reason Mendelssohn was still all right."

Helen looked over at Winifred. "This has been the maddest thing. I almost called the whole thing off when I saw Jack at the rehearsal—beard, hair down past his shoulders and only the clothes on his back. He wasn't even wearing socks! I thought Father would have a stroke. But Andy was perfectly calm. He said we could borrow a suit and Jack would be up in the choir loft where no one would see. Which was a good thing." Helen leaned forward and whispered. "He has an earring."

"No!" said Winifred shocked. "Really?"

"He does," said Helen nodding. "He worked his way across the Atlantic on a ship of some sort. The crew pierced his ear when he crossed the equator for the first time. I guess it's quite a ritual."

Helen's eyes lit with merriment. "Do you want to meet him Jane?"

Jane's guard came up immediately. "No," she said and even to her ears she sounded stiff and ungracious. "That is, it's fine. I don't need to meet him."

"Well, I think it would be fun," said Winifred. "I've never met a pirate before."

"Come on then," said Helen slipping on her shoes. "I'll introduce you. I think he knows one of your neighbors."

From her spot at the table Jane watched her mother and Helen walk across the room. The pirate must be charming. Winifred was smiling, and they talked for several minutes. She was still smiling a half hour later when they left the church. "Such fun Jane. You really should have come with me."

"Honestly, Mother! You sound as if he's some sort of exhibit in a zoo," said Jane irritably.

"Oh, hardly an exhibit in a zoo," said Winifred, "More like a romantic hero in a book. You know it's odd...he reminds me of your father somehow."

Jane choked. "You're joking!" she said. "Father with long hair and an earring?"

"Heavens no! Your father would never have long hair. No, it's just somehow I know that young man could find you a cab in the rain and would always have a handkerchief in his pocket in case you forgot yours."

Jane laughed. "That hardly sounds romantic."

"No," said Winifred her mind drifting back over the years, "But you'd be surprised at how very nice it can be."

xxxxxxxxx

It was hopeless, thought George. By now he had realized that Winifred Evans was the loveliest young woman in all of London, and he was head over heels in love with her. Unfortunately, so were all the other men he knew. She was surrounded by a veritable cloud of suitors who could offer her everything that he could not. He had a good job and a small savings but that was nothing compared to the old money of Henry Allard or Alfred Linden. He was not a romantic figure like Robert Carmichael who had been a soldier and a hero in the Boer War. Nor did he write poetry like David Alden. He was plain George Banks, sensible and boring.

Tonight he had hoped to at least make her smile. Instead, he had made her cry. He could kick himself for being so stupid. Why or why had he forgotten that Romeo and Juliet was a tragedy? Didn't everyone say it was a love story? He had read it in school ages ago, but it had made little impression on his thirteen-year-old self. And of course, seeing it performed live was so much different than reading it in a classroom with Tommy Corcoran playing Juliet. The actors were very good, and the final scene where the young lovers died had been very moving. George was a bit shaken himself. Little wonder that Winifred had been moved.

The small lace handkerchief she carried was wet with tears. Fortunately, his mother and nanny had trained him well. He pulled his out and handed it to her. "I'm so sorry," he said, "I didn't mean for you to cry."

"It's not you George," said Winifred. "It was the play. It was so sad. I can't bear Romeo and Juliet. It's just so tragic and so…"

"You should have said something," said George. "I would never have taken you to a play you didn't like."

"I didn't think I would c…c…cry," said Winifred. "I knew the story, but I've only read it. I've never seen it before. Seeing it like that made it seem so real."

There was nothing he could do. The rumble of thunder greeted them as they left the theatre dashing his hopes of strolling with her through the park. He left her in the shelter of the lobby and found a cab. Holding his umbrella over her, he helped her into it, then paid the driver and gave him a handsome tip to make sure she made it safely to the door of her house.

"Aren't you coming too George?" she asked.

"No," he said, "I'd better not." He couldn't afford two fares tonight and his rooms were within walking distance. "I have my umbrella," he said cheerfully. "I'll be fine."

He watched the horse step off then set off towards home. "Hopeless," he thought dejectedly, "Absolutely hopeless."

After that disastrous evening George stayed away from Winifred and set his mind firmly on his job at the bank. He expected daily that he would hear of her engagement and that the next time he saw her he would be offering his congratulations on her upcoming wedding. Uncle Andrew said it was all for the best. Winifred was too young and too flighty for a serious man of business. His mother wisely said nothing.

George was a bit surprised when Henry Allard asked him to be one of his supporters at his wedding. They were friendly but not what he would call close. Nevertheless, he agreed and was fitted for a suit. He steeled himself for the ordeal ahead. Winifred was good friends with Irene and would also be part of the wedding party. He was torn between the desire to see her again and the dread of seeing her with another man. Surely by now she must be engaged. But George was made of stern stuff, and he persuaded himself that it would be enough just to see her one more time.

He hadn't counted on the two of them being paired in the wedding party or the photographer taking well over an hour. It was exquisite torture having to stand perfectly still, so close to Winifred with her arm through his. To make matters worse she wore the silliest hat he had ever seen. It was one of those awful, wide brimmed affairs and a man couldn't get too close or the brim would poke him in the eye, or he might knock it off her head. It was an awkward, uncomfortable situation and he was relieved when it was over, and they were walking towards the church.

If he was Henry or David, he would be able to make some sort of small talk that would put them both at ease. But he couldn't think of a thing to say. It was Winifred who broke the silence between them.

"I'm dreadfully sorry George about our last evening together. I'm afraid I must have offended you in some way, and I didn't mean to."

"No, no," he protested. He didn't want her feeling bad because he had bungled the situation. "I'm not offended a bit. It was my fault. I should never have taken you to a play you didn't like."

"No George. The play was wonderful, but the story makes me sad, especially when Paris dies."

"Paris?"

"You know, Paris, the man Juliet's family wanted her to marry. He loved her so much and she only cared about Romeo. Paris goes to mourn her at the tomb, and Romeo kills him. Then, as he's dying, he asks Romeo to lay him next to Juliet that they might be together. It's so tragic."

George was perplexed. "But isn't Romeo the hero of the story."

"Romeo!" said Winifred scornfully, "He was all talk and show. Juliet was the most awful fool to fall in love with Romeo when there was someone else who truly loved her. Maybe he wasn't as dashing as Romeo, but he was good and decent, and she didn't deserve him!"

A vague hope had formed in George's heart and was now spinning in a veritable vortex in his brain. He was no Romeo, but maybe Winifred didn't want a romantic hero. Maybe it was all right to be plain George Banks. He certainly knew what it was like to love someone so much that he wanted to spend his whole life near her. He heard his voice as if in a dream.

"Marry me Winifred."

"What George?"

Dear Lord ,what was he doing. He wasn't prepared. He couldn't go down on one knee in the grass in a new suit. He didn't have a ring. He drew in his breath and screwed his courage to the sticking place.

"Marry me," he said again, his voice stronger this time. "I'm not terribly rich or handsome. I'll never paint your portrait or write you a sonnet or quote poetry to you on a balcony. But if you marry me, I promise I will always have a handkerchief for you to cry into, and I'll get you a taxi any time it rains."

"Oh George," Winifred's eyes shone like stars. "I thought you were never going to ask."

And then he did kiss her and knocked her hat off, and the bride and two of the other bridesmaids had to help her put it back on. And it was Henry and Irene's day, but no one was happier than George Banks as he escorted Winifred down the aisle of the church.

xxxxxxx

Darling George, thought Winifred. He never knew how hard she and Irene had worked to get him included in the wedding party. Over the years George and Henry's friendship had grown so strong that neither man remembered a time they hadn't been friends.

That night after Helen's wedding Winifred opened George's wardrobe. She had given away most of his clothes, but there were some things she couldn't bear to part with. She felt the sleeve of his dressing gown and slipped her hand into the pocket. His handkerchief was still there where he had put it. She left it in its place. She had kept all of George's handkerchiefs. There was a whole stack of them in her dresser drawer. She never went anywhere now without one.

"Oh George," she whispered. "If only Jane could be as happy as I was."

xxxxxxx

The rain was coming down in sheets. Jack slammed the door of the cab shutting them inside away from the deluge.

"Whew! That was sudden," he said.

The thunderstorm had come on quickly, dispersing the rally and sending everyone scrambling. Jane had collected the signs while Jack hailed a cab. Scrunched inside and steaming from the rain they both laughed.

"Where to?" asked the driver.

Jane started to answer but was cut short by an unexpected sneeze. She frantically searched her coat pockets looking for a handkerchief. Jack chuckled and handed her his as he finished giving the address.

The handkerchief was still warm from Jack's pocket. Jane wiped her nose and leaned back against the car seat looking at him. She remembered something her mother had said a long time ago about cabs and handkerchiefs. Mother was right. It was very nice.

"What?" He asked noticing her look.

"I was just wondering," she said. "Did you ever have an earring?"

Jack pulled out his wallet and unsnapped the flap where the coins were kept. He reached down inside with his finger and fished out a small gold hoop.

"I haven't worn it in years," he told her. "It doesn't quite go with the lamplighter gig."

"Can you still put it in?" she asked. "I'd like to see."

Despite the movement from the cab, Jack managed to slip it in. "There," he said, turning so she could see. "What do you think?"

"Very dashing," she said. "You look like a pirate. No leave it alone. I like it."

"Yeah, well remind me to take it out again," said Jack. "I'm meeting your mother tonight and I need to look respectable."

"Don't worry about my mother," said Jane. "She approved of you a long time ago."