The Story of BB-110 (standard:romance, 4335 words)
Author: Steve Remington	Added: Oct 09 2003	Views/Reads: 3362/2398	Story vote: 0.00 (0 votes)
How can two senior citizens reveal 'true love' to a 15-year old girl? A wedding ring found on a beach brings more than a reward to a young girl. ENJOY!

THE STORY OF BB-110 

PROLOGUE 

The storm door closed behind them and they stepped carefully in the new
fallen snow. Mother and daughter were hand-in-hand and the only sound 
was the crunch of their footsteps in the snow on this bitterly cold 
day. 

They quickly climbed into the family's SUV to get out of the biting
wind. Anne started the engine, which reluctantly caught in the extreme 
cold. Her gloved hand quickly turned the heater dials to ‘high' and she 
pulled slowly away from her parking slot in front of the condominium 
that they had just visited. It would be a reflective ride for the next 
thirty minutes, she thought. 

They had gone no more than a block or two when Anne heard a muffled sob
from Allison. She looked over to see tears streaming down the 
teenager's face. She pulled quickly to the curb, suddenly realizing 
that they had not shared a word since saying ‘goodbye' at the door of 
the home that they had just visited. 

“Oh, honey, what wrong?” Anne said as she quickly embraced her daughter.
She was sure that she knew the answer to her question. 

Allison clutched her tightly and through sobs and tears, she said, “Oh,
Mom. That was so beautiful back there. I didn't want it to end.” 

Anne pulled back just a bit, her own eyes brimming with tears, and said,
“Allison, you are indeed a fortunate young woman at 15. You have just 
observed something that many human beings do not see or feel in a 
lifetime . . . true love.” The rest of the drive from Williamsville to 
Buffalo was the best dialogue that they had ever had as mother and 
daughter. Anne surprised herself with the depth of her own passion and 
Allison poured out her tender feelings about the strongest emotion in 
humans - - - love. 

This is the story that created that dialogue. 

December 27 

Allison was probably the happiest kid on the entire twelve-mile beach.
It was two days after Christmas and here she was in shorts and bare 
feet, hundreds of miles from her snowbound friends back in western New 
York. Sure, some of them were enjoying skiing holidays but Allison 
thought the beach was a far better place. 

She had never spent Christmas away from home in her 15 years. She had
balked when her mother had told her in October of the planned family 
trip to Hilton Head Island for the Christmas holidays. But when she 
learned of the beach and warm weather, her reluctance ebbed. And when 
she saw their beachfront house, decorated for Christmas, she was 
ecstatic. 

Both sets of grandparents, her three brothers, her Aunt Rosemary and
Uncle Bill, her cousins Jeff and Maria and her parents filled the six 
bedroom home with laughter, games, singing and the warmth of family. 

With the morning sun quickly warming the beach air, Allison and Maria, a
year younger, were on an adventure. Her father had received a metal 
detector, complete with earphones, as a Christmas gift and after verbal 
assurances of being very careful with it, the girls were combing the 
beach looking for buried treasure”. Allison had gone first and had 
found more empty cans than “treasure” but had managed to dig up two 
quarters and two dimes. Maria wielded a small plastic shovel and pail 
but kept urging Allison to let her try the detector for awhile. 

Not wanting to start an argument, Allison turned over the detector to
her cousin and began walking in the surf line where waves rolled up on 
the sand. She absentmindedly began picking up seashells until the sun 
glinted off something moving in the ebbing surf. With a cat-like move, 
she used her hands to cup the object as the surf pulled it toward the 
sea. She closed here hands and scooped up a large handful of shells and 
sand. She ran to higher ground and dropped the handful in the plastic 
bucket. Carefully, she scooped small shovels of water in the bucket and 


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