It's Bliss

by Alene Roberts

  Like his father, Sheldon was shy. He hadn’t pursued the company of young ladies as he would have liked. At twenty-seven years of age, he fell head over heels in love with a lovely young woman and promptly got his heart broken. From then on, Sheldon replaced his need for love with long hours of hard work, the heady experience of making money, and basking in the power that attends wealth.

  The total focus on making money began to pale about two months before his thirty-fifth birthday, so he turned his attention to what he always had a yen to do—teach business on the university level in a small college town. Placing his business in the hands of trusted managers through a holding company, he applied for and received a teaching position at Fairfield University soon after he turned thirty-five. Fairfield had been a two- year college, but five years before Sheldon applied for a job there, it had become a four-year university. The community, however, would always sentimentally refer to it as Fairfield College. In the three years he had been on staff, he had written two books on business, and built the high-rise condominium complex. Now, he was working on an idea for a third book and feeling quite satisfied with his life here in Claytonville.

  He smiled as he thought about how well his 280 class had been going of late. The young women seemed to be responding in a way they hadn’t before. Could it be that he was watching his manner of speaking and tone of voice so as not to come over as Miss Bliss had accused him—pompous and demeaning? If so, he would have to give Miss Bliss her due.

  -

  When Sheldon conferred with Dean Atwood on Monday, the start of week four, telling him his idea for a project and suggesting that it and others following would be good material for another book, Dean Atwood fell all over himself. After all, Dr. Ackerman had an “in” with a wealthy benefactor who often chose to donate funds to Fairfield. And, the good professor had already made the college more illustrious and well- known by his two previous books, which were presently being used in several other universities as well as in Fairfield.

  It was now Thursday evening, and Sheldon could hardly wait until tomorrow night when he would be meeting with the DeePees. He wasn’t the most patient man, he knew, so with the go ahead from the Dean, they could get stared on the project right away.

  -

  The first part of the meeting Friday night turned out well; each was pleased with the other’s contributions and thus, pleased with the whole package.

  They agreed that, after Sheldon had his class fill out the questionnaire on the following Monday, they would meet Wednesday night at 7:00 at Sheldon’s condominium, go over them, and choose four candidates. Sheldon, they decided, would then meet individually with the four to see if each would like to participate. He would report back to the DeePees Friday night.

  “Now,” Robert began, “I would like to nip a problem in the bud. None of you have been in my office, but I have french doors with opaque glass in them between my office and the reception room. You can’t see through them but you can see people moving around. The double paned glass blocks out sound so that my counseling is totally private. Do any of you know why?”

  Hal spoke up. “Of course. As a physician I also had to be careful.”

  Nettie frowned, thinking, then nodded. “Oh. I know.”

  Sheldon looked blank.

  Robert continued. “I’m a married man, and I want everything to be free of complications and have the appearance of total moral and ethical correctness.”

  The two agreed wholeheartedly, but Sheldon still looked blank.

  “Sheldon,” Nettie began, “would you want the young woman you work with to tell people that you had come on to her?”

  Sheldon looked horrified. “Good grief, no!”

  “Well then,” finished Robert, “when we’re in a room with them alone, we need to be in view of others, or have others near, or leave the door open, or whatever we have to do to protect our reputations and that of Fairfield.”

  “I . . . uh, never thought of that. I do have a window in the door of my office with a mini-blind. I will definitely keep it open.” Sheldon said, still looking concerned.

  “And I’ll invite the young woman to my home and leave my office door open, with my wife nearby or have my wife there with me,” Hal said.

  “Good,” Robert said. “Now let’s decide on our criteria for choosing the four and I’ll write it down.”

  “I hope it’s possible that we can choose four who are overweight,” Sheldon stated, “because I see that as the biggest self-management problem in my class.”

  Nettie looked askance at Sheldon, but Robert wrote it down.

  “If any one of them is overweight, it can’t be by more than thirty pounds,” Hal said. “Is everyone in agreement with this?” Everyone nodded.

  Nettie added, “I think in order for it to be a good experiment, she has to have struggled over her weight or other problems for at least three years.”

  “You’re the expert on weight, Nettie,” Hal said, and the other two agreed.

  “She has to admit she has problems, weight or otherwise,” Robert said, “and have the desire to overcome the problems.”

  Nettie made another suggestion.”In three months, after starting the program, she will have to have lost a significant amount based on her particular condition, in order for us to continue to give our time to her.”

  They all agreed.

  “How often we meet with the young women individually should be what we think is best, but I feel, for a while anyway, that we four, along with the young women, should meet every week as a group.” stated Robert emphatically.

  “Should we review the experiment in three months?” Hal asked.

  “Yes,” Robert said. “And, actually, if they’re really serious about improving themselves, we shouldn’t have to hold their hands much longer than six months, and after that, just give support and encouragement now and then.”

  “They will have to agree to a sound nutrition program and moderate exercise,” Nettie said, “regardless of what their problems are. And later, we’ll need to get into the other area which is important for their future success—good grooming.”

  “They also need to get decent grades and be able to manage all areas of their lives in order to succeed in business,” stated Sheldon dogmatically.

  Hal smiled. “Shel, I’ll have to admit, you manage your life well.”

  Sheldon glowed with satisfaction. “Thank you.”

  “In fact,” Hal continued, “you manage your life better than any of us.

  But, you see, in addition to our professions, we have a spouse, children and, like me, grandchildren who are all added to the equation, and they really can’t be managed, so to speak. It seems, Shel, that this is one area of your life that is empty and lacking, so you can’t judge others’ managing skills by your own.

  Your life is not complete.”

  Sheldon Ackerman’s mouth dropped open. Hal Ozog had never been so blunt. Sheldon’s gaze traveled around to the other three, including Don, and found them nodding their heads in serious agreement.

  Feeling a little uncomfortable, Sheldon grinned and quickly asked, “Uh, how would you all like to play a game of Monopoly or something?”

  Eight

  Billie’s small suitcase was packed. She had just picked it up, slung a book bag over her shoulder, and stepped to the front door of her small apartment when the phone rang. Returning to the kitchen counter, she picked up the phone. “Hello? . . . Oh yes, I remember you. We met in computer class. How are you? . . . A movie? . . . Thank you but I’m going home this weekend.”

  She was out the door, about to lock it, when the phone rang again.

  Leaving everything on the porch, she walked back in.

  “Hello? . . .Oh hello, Jordan, how are you? . . . I can’t. I’m going home this weekend . . . No you can’t come over to my home . . . Because I’m planning to visit with my family . . . Jordan, I have to go. I was just walking out the door when you called . . . goodbye . . . no . . . goodbye, Jordan
.” She hung up.

  As she walked to her small, white Honda, she frowned in consternation.

  Maybe, she thought, I should just be blunt and say, I don’t want to date you.

  Or even better, I’m not going to get married so I don’t date anymore, not anyone! Yes, that’s what I should say, she told herself as she opened the trunk and placed her things in. Sliding behind the wheel, she started the car, backed out of the driveway, turned left, and drove down the hill toward home. But, she knew she couldn’t say that, because way down deep, her natural optimism kept popping up, bringing with it a tiny glimmer of hope. “I guess I’ll just have to live with that tiny bit of hope till I’m dead and gone,” she said aloud, feeling very annoyed with herself that she couldn’t say no in every sense of the word. Her heart kept contradicting her mind!

  Billie drove through the portico of her parents’ home, parked behind the three-car garage, walked up the steps of the back porch, and went into the kitchen. Her mother was standing at the stove, stirring something.

  “Hello, Mother.”

  Her mother turned around and threw her hands up in the air. “Oh my!

  My girl is home.”

  “Yes, Mother,” Billie said, smiling as she hugged her mother affectionately.

  “Just like I was two weeks ago.”

  “But it seems much longer than that, Billie. Now if you weren’t alone, the time wouldn’t—”

  “Mmm, what smells so good?”

  “Oh, just some corn chowder. If I had known you were coming, I would have—”

  “You know I love corn chowder. Where’s Papa?”

  “He’s still at work, but he’s due home shortly.”

  “Well, bless my soul. Our girl is home!” cried Aunt Matilda as she came through the door, trotting over to her niece.

  Billie gave her aunt a hug and a smile. “How’s my favorite aunt?”

  “Very well, now that you’re here, Billie,” her aunt said, beaming.

  “Billie, go on upstairs,” directed her mother, “and put your things away and relax. Dinner is almost ready.”

  “What can I do to help?”

  “Run along, Billie, I’m helping your mother.”

  “Yes, go on, dear. There is just fruit to cut up for a salad and Tilly will do that.”

  Billie paused at the door and smiled as she watched the two sisters who were so unlike each other. Her mother was a trim and stately five-foot seven, with gray strands running through her short, dark, nicely styled hair. Her hazel eyes, full of depth and warmth, reflected the care and love she had given to many during her life, especially to her immediate as well as to extended family.

  Aunt Matilda, whom everyone called Tilly, was eight years older than her sister. She was shorter, and slightly plump with short, curly hair that had been dyed blondish-red. Billie wasn’t sure what color her hair was naturally, but thought she remembered it being light brown. Aunt Tilly’s eyes were also hazel but had an intense quality, especially when she was fussing over and giving important advice to a family member. Though not as attractive as her mother, Aunt Tilly was sweet and pretty.

  Billie turned and walked into the utility room and up the back stairs to her bedroom, which looked big to her now. She could fit almost two studio apartments into this bedroom. And the decor was much more expensive and tasteful. Lovely sea green rugs covered the rich, polished oak floor. And the honey maple four-poster bed with its peach and green bedspread and ruffled pillows piled high, was much more comfortable than her pull-out sofa bed.

  Plopping her things on the bed, she opened the suitcase and pulled out a pair of white, knee-length shorts and a blue T-shirt. Pulling off the cotton, empire-waist dress, she put on the more casual clothes.

  It was the end of the third week in July and very warm, so going into the bathroom, she brushed her long, thick, auburn hair and twisted it into a french braid. She studied her face in the mirror. The two pounds she had lost didn’t reflect in her face. To her it still looked plump. She sighed, knowing that if she stayed home more than two days, she would gain it right back. Aunt Tilly’s fussing over her turning down dates, Uncle Henry’s caustic remarks about her becoming an old maid, and Mother’s and Father’s unspoken concerns over her single state, would invariably bring on the munchies. And it didn’t help that all the family were in denial over her weight gain.

  She dashed down the front stairs to find Grandpa Bliss, the only neutral one in the family, the only one whose twinkling brown eyes found humor in the family’s concern over her unmarried state.

  She found him in the library playing a game of chess with Uncle Henry.

  He looked up when she walked in.

  “Snooks! You’re home,” he exclaimed, smiling. “And what brings my lovely granddaughter home to see her poor, lonely folks?”

  “Because they’re poor and lonely, Grandpa,” she said, smiling affectionately and walking over gave his wrinkled, grinning face a kiss.

  “Humph! What brings you home on a Friday night?” grumbled Uncle Henry. “Most young people are out on dates.”

  “And hello to you, too, Uncle Henry,” she said, leaning down and pecking him on the cheek. “So, who’s winning?”

  “I am, of course,” replied Uncle Henry.

  “I let him win now and then so he won’t be so ornery,” stated Grandpa.

  Billie pulled up a chair to watch the game. Instead, she found herself watching them. Grandpa had lived with them for over sixteen years. She was eleven years old at the time he came, and she was sure he had come just to be her friend and confidant. His height of six feet had shrunk some, but he still had a full head of gray hair and lots of energy. He did most of the yard work in the summer, shoveled snow in the winter, and fixed anything that needed fixing, like faucets, the washer, and the toaster. He also hung wallpaper and painted. In fact, he did anything that needed doing.

  Uncle Henry, with his short stature, brown hair, and paunchy middle, looked more like his sister Matilda than his sister Margaret, her mother. He was between them in age. Uncle Henry’s distinctive, down-turned nose and mouth betrayed his cynical outlook on life. But, like Grandpa, he too earned his board and keep by planting and caring for the vegetable garden in the summer, and helping Grandpa with the yard work. He also took over the job of doing the dinner dishes. Sometimes he annoyed Minnie, the housekeeper, with his help, when she came once a week to clean house. When Uncle Henry’s wife died ten years ago, Billie’s parents’ invited him to come and live with them. Billie was sure that this was a great relief to his three grown sons and their wives. When his sons came to visit, bringing with them their wives and children, the five extra bedrooms of this big old home soon filled up.

  Billie contemplated this household with its strong-willed occupants, each with such different personalities. She had often wondered how everyone got along so well. A few problems would crop up now and then, but they were short lived and usually with apologies afterward, although Uncle Henry’s apologies were peculiar to him. Not until Billie was older did she understand how this family was able to live together in such harmony. It was because of the tradition her grandpa Bliss had started in his own home, which his son now carried on in his. Every morning early, all the family gathered around the kitchen table and read the Bible together, always ending in prayer. Billie missed this part of living with her family—but carried it on by herself in her own little apartment.

  She, Grandpa, and her parents had bedrooms on the second floor. Aunt Tilly and Uncle Henry’s were on the third. Papa, looking to the future, had an elevator installed.

  “Billie girl!”

  All heads turned toward the library door. “Papa!” exclaimed Billie, getting up and running to him. Throwing her arms around his chest, she gave him a squeeze.

  He grunted, put his briefcase down and returned her hug. “How’s my girl?”

  “How’s my papa?”

  “Are we both fine?” he asked, studying her as she pulled away.

  “I
t looks like it,” she said, smiling at him. “You look as handsome as ever.”

  And he was. Tall and broad shouldered, he was always dressed in superb suits and ties with white shirts. His thick, auburn hair, graying at the temples, complemented warm, brown eyes, framed by wire-rimmed glasses. Her father owned two hardware stores and a feed store. At one time, he rolled up his sleeves and worked with the help, but now, William Bliss was the true executive, delegating and managing.

  “Come, come!” Aunt Tilly’s voice floated through the hall before she appeared at the library door. “William, go wash up, you don’t want the chowder to get cold.”

  “No, I certainly don’t, Matilda.” The lines around his eyes crinkled as he grinned. “I’ll rush right on up and wash my hands.” He ran upstairs, and Billie disappeared into the dining room.

  Tilly trotted over to the two playing chess. “Stop that game of chess right this minute. Dinner is ready.”

  “We heard you, Tilly, we heard you,” growled Henry.

  “He’s just mad because I’m about to beat him,” Bill Bliss explained, grinning at Tilly as he stood up.

  Tilly led the procession as the three marched, quickstep, into the dining room.

  Nine

  Sheldon Ackerman, his eyes alight with excitement, studied each girl as she sauntered into class Monday morning. Most of them smiled and said, “Good morning, Dr. Ackerman.” He nodded at each, a pleasant look on his face, totally unaware of the blush on a couple of faces. No one was late today.

  But it did seem to take young women an inordinate amount of time to settle in: stopping to comb their hair, adjusting their clothing, searching through their backpacks for an interminable length of time to find a notebook and pencil, putting on lipstick, and finishing their visiting. His patience was getting thin. He had wanted to start the class right on time today, if not a few minutes early.

  When everyone was settled, he stood up, walked around the desk and began.

  “Good morning, class. Today, I’m not going to give the usual lecture.