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A Heavenly Matchmaker

A high school girl with an unlikely crush is miraculously paired with the man of her dreams.

A moonlit porch swing

Sherrod Vaughn. Had there ever been a more melodious name? Not to my ears! I was reading the Newport News Daily Press over breakfast when I came across an article about a graduating senior at Ohio State University—a senior named Sherrod Vaughn. I had to know more!

According to the article, Sherrod was coming back home to Virginia for the summer to teach a life-saving course at one of our country clubs. A lifeguard! How brave!

I was a graduating senior too, but in high school. Sitting at my desk in math class that morning, I barely heard a word the teacher said. I looked studi­ous enough, writing in my notebook. But instead of taking notes, I was doodling hearts and spinning a fancy about the boy with the dreamy name.

Someday, somehow I would share it with him. Mrs. Sherrod Vaughn. I liked the sound of that even better, and doodled my way into summer vacation.

One balmy evening I relaxed on the porch swing, reading a book that was interesting enough to dis­tract me from my romantic notions. My brother-in-law, Chet, bounded up to the porch. “Myrtle,” he said, “how would you like a blind date tonight?”

“No, thanks,” I said. “I’d rather finish my book.” Besides, my heart was already taken. I dropped my eyes back to the page and gave the swing a little push. Chet sighed. “Too bad,” he said. “I met a fellow in my life-saving class today. I got the feeling you’d like him.”

I put my foot down and stopped the swing. “Life-saving class?” I said. “What’s this fellow’s name?”

Chet frowned. “It’s a strange name,” he said. “Sherwood, I think. No! Sherrod. That’s it. Sherrod Vaughn.”

Could Chet have seen my notebook? “Are you teasing me, Chet?”

Chet looked genuinely confused. “What are you talking about?”

I dropped my book to the floor and raced up the stairs. “I’ll be ready in thirty minutes!” I called over my shoulder.

Half an hour later a black Lincoln pulled up. I held my breath, watching from my bedroom window as Sherrod Vaughn stepped out. He was tall—over six feet—dressed in gray flannel slacks and a maroon Ohio State sweater. He’s as handsome as his name. I flew down the stairs.

Sherrod stared at me, speechless, when I opened the door and introduced myself. Does he know my secret? I worried.

We went to a movie, then to a drive-in restaurant. He was a perfect gentleman, but it seemed something was on his mind. When the food arrived, Sherrod took a deep breath. “Before we take anything off this tray,” he said, “I simply must tell you something.”

Oh, dear, this is all a big joke! And Chet’s in on it!

Sherrod reached into his pocket for his wallet. “While I was home for spring break, I saw this pic­ture in the paper and cut it out. I’ve carried it with me ever since.” It was my senior photo from the Newport News Daily Press. Why would Sherrod keep it in his wallet?

“The minute I saw this picture I made up my mind we would meet someday,” he said. “I didn’t know it would be tonight.”

Two years later, our names again appeared in the paper—this time together. The wedding announce­ment of Mr. and Mrs. Sherrod Vaughn.

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