John was waiting for the girl whose heart he knew, but whose face he didn't, the girl with the rose. Thirteen months ago, in a Florida library, he took a book off the shelf and found himself intrigued by the notes in the margin. The soft handwriting reflected a thoughtful soul and insightful mind.
He discovered the previous owner's name, Miss Hollis Maynell. With effort, he located her address and wrote her a letter, introducing himself and inviting her to correspond.
Over the next year, they grew to know each other through letters. A romance was budding. John requested a photograph, but she refused, believing that if he truly cared, her appearance wouldn't matter. They scheduled their first meeting for 7:00 pm at Grand Central Station in New York.
"You'll recognize me," she wrote, "by the red rose I'll be wearing on my lapel." So at 7:00, he was in the station looking for the girl with the red rose.
A young woman in a green suit approached, her figure long and slim, her eyes blue as flowers. He almost stepped towards her, but then he saw Hollis Maynell—a woman well past forty. The young woman walked quickly away. He felt torn in two, his desire to follow her keen, yet his longing for the woman whose spirit had truly companioned him was deep.
He did not hesitate. Squaring his shoulders, he said, "I'm John, and you must be Miss Maynell. I'm so glad you could meet me; may I take you to dinner?"
The woman smiled. "I don't know what this is about, son," she answered, "but the young lady in the green suit begged me to wear this rose. She said if you asked me to dinner, I should tell you she is waiting in the restaurant across the street. She said it was some kind of test!"
It's not difficult to admire Miss Maynell's wisdom. The true nature of a heart is seen in its response to the unattractive.