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Welcome to a special First Kiss Friday with my dear friend, Jude Knight. With everything going on in the world right now, it’s nice to read a story that is so uplifting that it can only bring a smile to your face and tears in your eyes (in a very good way). Love at first sight really can happen and with that intro, I’ll let Jude take it away! Enjoy, my lovelies.

I haven’t been writing, what with packing up the house we’ve sold, Covid-19 lockdown, moving cities, buying a new house, and having a newly retired husband home the whole time.

So I thought I’d give you something different. A couple who met long ago at a prayer meeting, met again several times at youth outreach (she was secretary of her Young Anglicans group and he was president of the local Young Catholic workers), and finally went out together for a night dancing. Just dancing and talking. Two well-behaved young people in the late nineteen-sixties, and after all, they barely knew one another.


It was a dismal Monday morning, but the usual trip to training college had to be endured regardless. Across the harbour bridge into the city, and then a second bus out to an old made-over colonial mansion in Arney Road, where would-be kindergarten teachers learned educational theory, human development, and how to make music and movement fun and interesting for a herd of rambunctious toddlers.

Judy’s mind was on her book rather than the weather or her studies, but the greeting from further down the bus riveted her attention. Bob. She had hoped to see him again, but not so soon; not on the bus.

“I often catch this bus,” he said. “I’m surprised we haven’t seen one another before.”

They talked all the way into town, and he walked her to her next stop. He was smart, and funny, and attentive, and courteous. She didn’t miss her book at all; didn’t even pull it out of her bag until the bus turned a corner and he was out of sight.

He was there waiting to walk her to her bus that night, and on the first bus again the next morning. “Do you like the ballroom type of dancing?” he asked. “Only, I’ve got tickets for a ball this coming Friday. I could pick you up if you’d like.” As casual as him, she said she’d enjoy that.

She had university that night – she was doing two papers, and stayed late on Tuesdays and Thursdays to attend lectures. No Bob on the bus. She scolded herself over her disappointment. If he knew, he’d think she was chasing him! They were just friends, after all.

Just in case that doubt was in his mind, she deliberately caught a later bus on Wednesday. To her surprise, he was on it. She fretted all day about what he might think, and wasn’t surprised when he didn’t appear at the stop in the city to walk her home.

Thursday, she caught the earlier bus in the morning, and stayed for lectures in the evening. When she saw him on Friday morning, she wasn’t sure he’d noticed her absence the previous day. Not that they were courting, or even boyfriend and girlfriend. They were just two people who happened to like one another, and who happened to be going dancing together, because dancing was fun.

She took some money out of her bank account so she could afford to have her hair done for the ball.

It was a wonderful night. The harbourside venue was stunning, the music was glorious, Bob was a splendid dancer, his friends (it was a ball for Outward Bound Old Boys) welcomed her as if she belonged… then it got better.

They were slow waltzing, and Judy was looking up into Bob’s eyes when she saw them change. Ever after, she struggled to express what she saw: the eyes softened and grew more intent, all in one. As the warmth in his gaze wrapped her around, she fell in love, and ever after swore that he beat her to it, if only by seconds.

What happened in the remainder of the evening? Neither of them took much notice. The roof could have blown off the building, and they would still have been in one another’s arms, dancing. They couldn’t believe that five hours had passed when they were herded outside with the rest of the stragglers so the venue could be closed.

They walked back to his father’s car hand in hand, not needing words. He drove one-handed so he could continue holding hers in his clasp. And when they parked in her mother’s driveway, he cupped her chin the heel of his hand, leaned in for a kiss, and the magical night got better still.

Reader, I married him. I’m slightly stunned that that night counts as history, since on the 3rd of August this year it will have been fifty-one years since the night we talked until dawn, chose a name for our first son, and shared far too many kisses to count.

About Jude Knight

Jude Knight’s writing goal is to transport readers to another time, another place, where they can enjoy adventure and romance, thrill to trials and challenges, uncover secrets and solve mysteries, delight in a happy ending, and return from their virtual holiday refreshed and ready for anything.

Jude writes everything from Hallmark to Regency Noir, in different eras and diverse places, short, medium and extra long. Expect decent men with wounded hearts, women who are stronger than they think, and villains you’ll want to smack or worse.and all with a leavening of humour.

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