I’d tried to get work in a library, a radio station, or with the government. I had the grades and the brains for any of those, but as soon as anyone got a look at me—built bigger than an ox—the only jobs they thought I’d be suitable for involved swinging some kind of hammer.
Not that I was complaining. I had health, youth, and grit. I could weather any storm.
Especially if Lula Doyle was in my life.
“Where’s your head, Brogan?” She sashayed behind me and flicked the towel off her shoulder, smacking me in the arm with it. “I thought you liked working here.”
“Oh, I do,” I said fast, because I didn’t ever want her to think I didn’t want to be with her. I didn’t ever want her to think I didn’t want her.
“Then work.”
I hoisted a chair in each hand and settled them on the table with ease.
“And answer my question,” she said.
“If we should get married now?” I tried to say it casually. As if this one thought wasn’t taking up all the room left in my brain. As if it wasn’t eating all my reason out of house and home.
“The courthouse is open for another fifteen minutes,” she said, and maybe she was trying to hide the excitement in her words. But I knew her. Better than I knew anything else in the world. I could hear her hope, giving each word shine. “I’ve got the fee saved back.”
I scowled at her. “No, I’ve got the fee saved back. I’m not going to let you pay the judge. I told you, if we go to the courthouse, I’ll pay the fee.”
“So let’s do it!” She spun and her hair spun with her, tied back in a band, but still long enough to brush along her back and shoulders like flame bending in the breeze. She was fire, this woman, and I couldn’t wait to warm myself to her for the rest of my life.
“I thought…you know, we have almost enough to hire a preacher. Almost enough for cake and lemonade. We could have it here, right here in your shop. Or out back, under the big ash tree.”
“You want a wedding.” She wasn’t asking a question because she already knew the answer.
“Yes. I want a wedding. More than just a courthouse and a judge. I want…”
How did I tell her this? That I’d dreamed of it, hoped for it, ever since I first put my eyes on her. There would be flowers and cake and maybe even ribbons. She’d wear a dress, and I’d have a suit and top hat. And we’d join hands and hearts and lives right there in front of people who cared about us.
She would smile and that would be my world. My whole world in her smile.
“I want everything. For you. For us.” I closed the distance between us and took both of her hands in my own. “If you can be patient. Just wait a little more. I know I’ll have enough money.”
“We’ll have enough money,” she corrected. “We are both saving. We could both pay for it. Together.”
“All right. Yeah. I like that. If we wait.” I pulled on her hands, bringing her even closer to me. She tipped her head up, that quirk of a smile telling me she’d gotten what she wanted.
“You’ll wait?” I said. “For me to get everything arranged?”
“For you,” she said, and her voice was honey and spring and sun on my skin, “I’d wait forever.”
I raised one hand to cup the side of her face and bent toward her, slow, slow, slow, so I could savor this, being here, being hers.
She lifted, her whole body flowing like a chorus through a choir, and I was her audience, mesmerized by every movement. I dragged my thumb gently across her lower lip as she smiled, amazed once again that she was mine. That I would know her, touch her, love her for the rest of my life. It was a gift I never thought I’d be given, and one I didn’t think someone as poor as me could ever earn.
“Kiss me?” she whispered.
“Always,” I answered.
Her eyes were green and bright and oh, how I burned as I gently pressed my lips to hers. Briefly. So foolishly briefly.
Iwoke, cold and shivering, frozen in the night. Alone.
The sky hung spangled with stars, a breeze hushing leaves and grasses around me. A slug slowly pushed its way through my ankle, unfazed by my presence.
The moon was up, full and heavy, nearly at the height of the sky. Time had passed. Hours.
