I’m so excited to have Lisa Belcastro back again!
Thanks for having me back Collette. I can’t think of a better place to talk about romance and great love stories than the Blue Rose Writing Room.
I’ve been a Cinderella fan since I was a little girl. Walt Disney shot an arrow straight into my young dreaming heart, and I’ve never outgrown the dream. To this day, I’ll watch or read any sweet movie or story with a Cinderella twist. But, and I do mean BUT, nothing compares to a real-life, heart-pounding, tear-inducing love story.
While I was writing Shenandoah Crossings, I witnessed and experienced one of the greatest love stories of all time. I’m excited to share it with you and your friends here today. Shall we start with the classic line?
Once upon a time . . . a mystery writer named Cynthia Riggs, a woman in her eighties who had sworn off marriage and love, received a large padded envelope with no return address. It was late January of 2012. The day was cold, and Cynthia wasn’t expecting anything spectacular to happen.
When she returned home, she opened the package and discovered faded, decades-old, coded messages she and a young man named Howie had exchanged during her college internship at the Scripps Institution of Oceanography in San Diego. With the old, was a new note: “I have never stopped loving you.”
The day after Cynthia received her surprise from the man she hadn’t spoken to in sixty-two years, I arrived at her home for our weekly Wednesday Night Writers’ Group. Cynthia was eager to share her unusual package with me.
I thought it was the most romantic gesture I’d ever seen. Howie had saved those notes for over six decades! What man does that? My girlfriend, Catherine Finch, arrived a few minutes after me and was equally enthralled by the gesture. We immediately encouraged Cynthia to contact Howie. One problem: Howie had written his return address in nautical coordinates. There was no mailing address.
Over the next couple of weeks, Cat and I hounded Cynthia to locate and write to Howie. At one point she said, “What if he’s a stalker?” We cracked up laughing. The man was in his nineties, lived in California, and hadn’t contacted her for sixty-two years, hardly stalker material.
Finally, Cynthia wrote. Howie wrote back. Over the next few months, I had the pleasure of watching a woman who’d sworn off love get giddy over every letter, card, or trinket Howie sent. And ladies, if you’re looking for a real-life Prince, Howie set the bar to a position we would all love to have in our lives.
He wrote her daily, words of such beauty they brought tears to our eyes. One day a package of seeds arrived for Cynthia, an avid gardener. Cynthia lovingly arranged them on a table for Cat and I to see: Hollyhocks, Leeks, Okra, Vinca, Eggplant, Spinach, and Catnip.
“See what,” I’d asked.
“It’s code,” Cynthia said.
Can you see it? I didn’t get it at first. Cat figured it out before me. Taking the first letter of each seed packet, Howie had sent another coded message: Howie loves Cynthia.
OMGosh! I swooned. Cat sighed. Cynthia giggled.
Watching Howie court Cynthia with words and small, ingenious gifts, was inspirational, and not only to those of us in the writers’ group. The postmistress at Cynthia’s mailroom began to look forward to Howie’s letters. Soon, the Island of Martha’s Vineyard was falling in love with Cynthia’s love story.
Six months later, the big question hung in the air: when were they going to spend time in person. I could barely contain my desire to forcefully carry Cynthia to the airport and fly her to California.
Finally, the Wednesday Writers convinced Cynthia to make a trip out to San Diego. She left on a warm September day. I was praying hard and often. The story simply hadto have a happy ending. Cynthia emailed me the night she arrived. Howie had picked her up with a rose in one hand and a coded message in the other. Two hours later, sitting on his garden swing, Howie proposed to Cynthia. And she said yes!
I had all I could to not to share the news with Cat, but I didn’t want to spoil Cynthia’s surprise when she returned. What followed was just as magical as their first six months. Howie, who had never been west of the Mississippi, told Cynthia he would pack up his house and move east to the Island home Cynthia’s family had lived in for eight generations.
From September through March, Howie continued to court Cynthia as every princess longs to be loved. In March, Howie arrived and the next day Cat performed a Buddhist wedding ceremony. Plans for the church wedding two months later were well underway.
While I was writing about Tess and Hawk and Andy and Allyson and their complicated roads to love, I was organizing a real-life fairytale wedding. Along with Cat and Amy, another Wednesday Writer, we helped to create a wedding with floral wreath headpieces, lilac bouquets, dozens of family members and an overflowing of love. On May 25, 2013, Cynthia and Howie were married, over six decades after they first met.
Cynthia tells everyone, “Life is just amazing. Don’t give up hope.”
At their wedding, Howie gave the world words to live by, “Love is a great place to spend the rest of your life.”
With my favorite couple as daily inspiration, I let my imagination dream of new characters and what their love stories will be. Tess had given up hope of finding a good man, and she was frustrated and disappointed with her job and life. She couldn’t see a happy ending, so she took matters into her own hands and made a dangerous choice. Her journey through Shenandoah Crossings was great fun to write. The people in the book made me laugh and cry. Much like Cynthia and Howie.
What is your favorite real-life love story? One commenter will win a copy of Shenandoah Crossings.
If you want to read more about Cynthia and Howie, here’s one article: http://mvgazette.com/news/2013/05/22/vineyard-love-affair-finest-kind?k=vg523c6b80b426b. Also, Cynthia’s appearance on the MOTH: http://themoth.org/posts/storytellers/cynthia-riggs
Blurb for Shenandoah Crossings
for movie stars and presidents, but the Island feels anything but idyllic. Tess has had it with lousy dates, lying, cheating men, and the rules that forbid her from working on her family’s centuries-old schooner, Shenandoah. Lucky for Tess, she knows a secret-the Shenandoahhas magical powers. Her best friend, Rebecca O’Neill, once stayed in Cabin 8 and discovered a time portal that transported her to 1775. A month after Rebecca’s “disappearance,” Tess’s father, brother, and Shenandoah‘s annoying first mate, Hawk, plan to shut down the time travel for good by dismantling the cabin. But what if Rebecca might someday need to come home? What if Tess isn’t ready to say good-bye forever? Sneaking onto the ship late at night, Tess slips into Cabin 8 and drifts off to sleep. She wakes anchored off the New England coast amidst the American Revolution in 1776. The British frigate HMS Greyhound has seized Shenandoah and taken the crew, cargo, and all onboard hostage. To make matters worse, Hawk is relentlessly tracking her, determined to bring her back to the twenty-first century against her will. Sparks begin to fly, from more than cannonballs and gunpowder….
Shenandoah Crossings Excerpt
Tess remembered climbing up Shenandoah’sladder and losing herself in deep pools of blue. She’d barely heard him when he’d offered her a hand. “Need some help?” He’d asked simply enough.
“Ah, um, no,” Tess had stuttered, never shifting her gaze. He had grinned and her fate was sealed.
“Can I give you a hand?”
Tess had wanted to say, “I’m sure you can,” but she’d played it straight, “I’m looking for the Captain.”
“He’s below with the cook and galley boy. If you have a delivery, you can leave it with me,” Hawk had said pointing at the bag Tess held in her left hand.
Clutching the sack to her chest with dramatic flair, Tess flirted. “And who might you be? How do I know you won’t eat his lunch?”
Hawk had extended his right hand, took her hand in his, smiled that amazing smile yet again, and slyly eyed the brown bag. “I’m sure there’s something good in that bag, but hardly worth my job. If you happen to bring lunch again, you could bring one for the Captain and another for the first mate. Name’s Hawk. And you are?”
“Tess.” His hand had felt perfect. Silly, really, to notice how nicely their hands fit together, yet Tess had become aware of the fit the instant their hands connected. And so had Hawk. Tess was sure of it. He had held her hand longer than necessary, longer than it took Tess to climb over the cap rail, longer than the handshake that followed, and longer than the moment when she’d planted both feet firmly on the deck.
“Do you live on the Island?” Hawk had asked, still holding her hand.
“Born and raised here.” She’d been amazed then that the words had come out, that she’d thought of anything intelligent to say when all she could feel and think about was their hands.
Their fingers touched, through the handshake and into something more. She hadn’t wanted to pull back. Even now, in the middle of the backyard, Tess felt her hand in his, the calluses on his palm from years of working the lines, the strength under the surface of his touch.
A bit about Lisa
Thank you again for visiting, Lisa.
