Jack comes to the nervous part of his pursuit of Wendy – –

I continued to pay flying visits to St. John’s over the following couple of years, and Wendy was in different rented rooms almost every time. An elderly woman and her two grownup daughters lived in one, so four women together. But one day they smelled smoke – – –

After more smoke, 911 was called (or whatever the Canadian equivalent is). Four burly firemen arrived, and by that time the daughters had dressed seductively and put on makeup! The firemen discovered that the smoke was coming from the dryer and unplugged it. They seemed disappointed that they didn’t need to demolish the house or soak it with water. Wendy decided to find more private digs.

Finally, at another of her various homes, I, with great trepidation, ‘popped the question’ and was surprised and relieved when she answered “yes.”

Remember that ancient and decrepit Toyota? It now took Wendy down to the British Embassy in DC to get her special visa to enter Scotland as my fiancée.

When she arrived she was met at the door by an Englishman who asked what her business was. “I’m marrying a Scotsman”– he shook his head and said, “Well, I wish you luck,” and sent her up to the next floor, where a Welshman asked her what her business was. “I’m – – – “Oh dear, well someone has to marry them,” he said, before sending her up to the next floor, where there was an Irishman (yep – just like a million jokes) who asked her the usual question, but in true Celtic solidarity he said “Oh, congratulations, my lass! They make excellent husbands if you can train them.”

She had my passport and her own with her and had to leave them to be checked and processed and then forwarded to the address they had for her – which happened to be her parent’s place in Knoxville Tennessee. Being honest folk, when they mailed them to her they marked the envelope – “passports (2).” But it’s against the law to mail passports across international borders, so they were impounded in Toronto!! Another journey in – yes – the ancient decrepit – –

Sometime earlier I had phoned Wendy and could tell she had a cold and was cold – she was sitting out on the porch of the best and last digs she had stayed. Sitting outside, in Newfoundland, in January, trying to entice a tiny lost kitten inside. I was very worried, but it all worked out and the black and white kitten was duly named ‘Newsprint.’

Then came the time her classes were finished, and I flew over to help her load the (now famous) ancient and decrepit and move her stuff down to Knoxville before we both shifted to Scotland. But she hadn’t found a new home for Newsprint! Luckily our friends in Maine knew a kind lady who took in cats, so off the three of us set. After settling our feline friend into her new home, Wendy cried all the way to her sister’s house in Detroit. Finally, somewhere in Ohio, I promised if she’d just stop crying, the first thing we’d do in Scotland, on the way home from the airport when I picked her up, was stop at the cat shelter and get a kitten.

The final task involved ‘ancient and decrepit.’ Wendy had a friend whose husband ran a used car business. So Wendy, her parents and I engaged in the quintessential American ‘getting to know you’ ritual – we all went shopping! Her dad and I went into a car parts place and emerged with a couple of working headlamps like triumphant hunters—and men bonded over a common task. We traded the now not quite so ancient and decrepit in for a newer Subaru, which we left with her parents for us to use whenever we were back.

Next week – the end of the quest and the fateful day – –