You know I'm not supposed to tell you yet." Helen giggles and pulls another plant from its plastic starter pot, getting ready to set it into the hole she just made in the mounded garden row.

"I know you're not supposed to but you weren't supposed to tell me anything else either," I point out carefully- the woman is digging with a 9 inch hunting knife after all.

My neighbor looks up at me from her up-turned 5 gallon bucket garden stool. Her arm dangles between her knees, her dress a muddy mess where she's dragged the hem through the garden this morning.

I'm used to seeing her out here in her late husband's tattered overalls, but since the weather started warming up, I've been seeing her in more feminine attire. Today it's a soft cotton frock in a delicate floral print. The pastel colors give Helen's no-nonsense demeanor a lighter quality that I've decided suits her well.

It's hard to tell if the dress is something that's been hanging in her closet for years, part of a Helen that was folded up and put away long before I met her, or if it's something new. Maybe an impulse buy to go with the flat of strawberry plants she's planting today?

The dress is already covered in dirt and the fabric of the skirt is soaking wet from where it's been dragged along the ground as she moves her bucket and her progress down the rows.

"Look Nate," she leans down and pokes the knife blade into the dirt, carefully churning soil to make placing the plants easier, "I told you when I started meetin' the girls. I told you when we got it narrowed down to just the two," she sits upright again and fixes me in her ice blue gaze, "and I told you when I decided who I like."

Helen squints up at me against the morning sun, "I ain't tellin' ya the rest till it's official." She frowns at me and goes back to her gardening, "And then you can meet her your own damn self. Make sure you take a bunch of them carrots with ya." She sits up and waves the knife towards the wheelbarrow filled with fresh dug carrots and beets.

I like the way she tells me to take carrots like it's part of the same conversation but then, this time of year every conversation ends with her telling me to take something with me; carrots, radishes, beets, zucchini, whatever she has too much of that day.

Grabbing a handful of carrots, I pretend to be annoyed with the old woman but Helen just squints up at me and laughs.

"Don't go giving me any of that attitude, young man," she scolds in a voice that lacks seriousness, "it's just a few more days and then you can stop worrying about who you get to marry and start worrying about whether or not she's gonna have ya."

Helen cackles in delight at her own orneriness and turns her attention back to her strawberry plants.

There's not much left for me to do out here and it's clear that I won't be getting any more information out of my neighbor than I managed to get out of my daughters. Surrendering my fight with a deep sigh and a healthy handful of carrots and beets from the wheelbarrow, I hover for just a moment longer in hopes that Helen make take pity on me and give me a little more information than she already has.

She's on to me though and all I get is a wave of the hunting knife, shooing me back out of the garden.

Back in the house, I stand at the kitchen sink and absently scrub the freshly dug root vegetables free of the part of the garden I don't want to eat and put them in the refrigerator next to the radishes she forced on me a few days ago.

Dani let it slip that they'd decided on a match for me during our conversation this morning-- somewhere between "ohmygoshdad...and he's totally into me too" and "I just need enough to cover my bills till I get paid because I had to pay for the airfare up front."

It's a damn good thing that kid did slip up and tell me about finding a match for me, or I'd likely have put it together that she's flying to Cancun for spring break with some guy who's "totally into" her before just this minute.

Of course, my youngest wasn't about to stay on the phone long enough to answer any questions after sweet talking me into a few hundred dollars and my oldest, Summer, conveniently remembered she had to do anything other than talk to her old man once I started digging for info.

With Helen's lips sealed too-- all I can do is sit tight and wait till I get the final word from Raven and then I can start stressing my first date with the woman I'm going to be marrying just a few months from now.

If all goes well, I remind myself.

Grabbing a couple of the radishes from the fridge to nibble on, I make my way onto the back porch. From here I can see Helen still out in her garden. For a second I consider heading back out there to see if I can get her to give up some information about my future wife.

Instead, I take a seat on the swing and absently watch her set her bucket in the wheelbarrow, move it up next to her shed, and come back with the garden hose in hand.

Dani's so excited about the idea of me getting married again. She was on board with the plan before I could explain the details. But then, my youngest has always been the impulsive one, and maybe she'd like to get her old man off her case about her own love life and thinks getting me to focus on mine might do the trick.

My oldest, however, hasn't been as supportive as I'd expected. I thought for sure Summer would be into the match maker thing. After all, she was the little girl who was going to grow up to be a princess. She's been a hopeless romantic since the first time she heard the words "happily ever after." At 21 she's got her own ideas about the way things are supposed to go, and even though she's been enjoying the process, she's made it clear more than once that arranged marriage is not her idea of the best way to find true love.

I'm not sure how long I've been sitting on this porch swing, watching the world go by while I think over all the ways life at almost 45 hasn't turned out a damn bit like I expected it to back when I was Summer's age, when my cell phone rings.

Pulling it out of my shirt pocket to check the caller ID, I see Raven's name on the screen and damned if my hands don't start shaking so bad I can barely get the call answered.

"Nathan?" I hear her warm tone on the line and it calms me down pretty quick. That was one of the first things I noticed about Raven when we started talking, she's one of those people who just have a way of making you feel safe, like you can trust her.

I told her she missed her calling in hostage negotiation because no matter what I think I'm going to tell her when I start talking to her, she always manages to convince me to see things her way.

Of course, she just laughed softly when I said that and assured me she's much better suited to finding soul mates than bargaining with kidnappers.

"I'm calling to let you know that your team has agreed on a match for you," she tells me, "has anyone said anything to you yet?"

The rules say they're not supposed to tell me a damn thing so Raven's casual question makes me stutter out a hesitant denial that doesn't fool the professional for a second.

"Don't worry," she laughs, "it's not going to void your contract. Almost everyone gets a hint from at least one of their team members-- or their match maker," she admits.

"Well I'm glad no one's in trouble," I say, "but no one's giving me any hints either." I hope my match maker gets my own hint and gives me one back, I'm dying here.

"I am surprised to hear that, Nathan," her voice turns all mysterious and more professional, "I thought for sure Mrs. Montgomery would have been bending your ear all afternoon. You do know that they've chosen a match though?"

"Yeah, actually Dani let that slip this morning but I haven't been able to get any more information out of any of 'em."

Raven hums thoughtfully on the other end of the line and I'm hoping she's considering giving up some information.

"Well, if they're not ready to give up any details yet, I guess I'd better respect their decision." She sounds a little disappointed to me, but when she puts it that way I feel like an ass for giving Helen the third degree all afternoon. "I will let you know that I am already working with your team to set up the initial introduction. As soon as we work out the details, I'll be flying out personally to act as Mrs. Rowe's chaperon."

I listen while Raven talks me through the next step of the process and then bids me a cheerful good bye, telling me how much she's looking forward to being able to meet me in person after all the time we've been working together.

Then she's ending the call and it's only after the line goes dead that I start putting what she just told me into some sort of order.

In the next few days, I'm going to meet my fiance. The people who know me best have all agreed that this woman-- this Mrs. Rowe-- is my best shot at a relationship that's going to last longer than a few years.

Mrs. Rowe is going to be my wife, the woman I'm going to spend the rest of my life with...

Wait a damn minute here! Raven's voice plays back in my memory and I stare at my phone in my hand, wondering if I heard right and, if I did, should I call her back and demand an explanation?

Did she say "Mrs?"