“Do you see the landmass over there.” He pointed to the distance. When she nodded, he continued. “That is Marsh Island. It’s a wildlife refuge and a great place for shrimp in season. Just on the other side of it is the Gulf of Mexico.”
Monica closed her eyes and breathed in. “This day is perfect.”
Taking the cue, he smiled. “Wait right here and keep your eyes closed.”
He ducked into the tiny cabin where he’d stored everything. He retrieved the box from earlier, thankful for the cool day that kept the food chilled. Balancing the box in his arms, he returned to the deck and set down the box. He pulled out the specialty printed tablecloth and spread it over the makeshift table between the two cushioned chairs, then arranged the remaining items on top of it.
He walked to where Monica was standing and tenderly turned her towards him. His heart raced. When he spoke, his voice was low and hoarse. “Come with me.” It only took two steps to reach their destination. “Sit here.”
Monica’s eyes widened when she saw the layout. An ecru tablecloth with a map of Houston printed on it covered the table. On top was a vase a single red rose, a plastic bag with dough, a shrimp cocktail, and two plates of wine. Curiosity glimmered in her eyes, but she was speechless.
Drawing a long breath, he prayed this would go as planned. “Everything on this table symbolizes a part of our relationship. First is the tablecloth, a reminder of that first time we met and spent the night wandering around Houston.”
He picked up the shrimp cocktail. “Second is the shrimp because it’s was a part of the meal we ate when I first knew you’d become more than a friend.”
Monica laughed nervously. “I remember that. You wouldn’t let me have any because I’d mentioned once I broke out after eating shrimp and I had to explain I was allergic to the seasoning, not shrimp.”
“I couldn’t risk losing you.” Next, he lifted the bag of dough. “Do you know what this is?”
“Dough?”
“This is Amish Friendship Bread starter dough. This batch came from a starter my mom was given when she married my dad. With care and love, a single starter can continue forever. My hope is that our relationship will be like this dough. As long as we continue to nurture it, we will always exist and never go stale. Together we can create something sweet like this bread.”
Monica’s eyes filled with tears and she seemed to understand what was happening. “That’s beautiful.”
He continued on before he lost his ability to speak. “A red rose is a universal symbol of love. Along the way our friendship turned to love, and everything we overcame to accept that love has brought us closer together. I would gladly give you the world and a score of dozen red roses, but today I want you to have just one, because I want you to know you are the one and only woman I could ever love.”
Lifting the rose to her nose, she inhaled and breathed out. “You’re the one and only man I will ever love.”
Before embarking on the final stage, he took a moment to compose himself and get his emotions under wrap. “Are you wondering what the cheese represents?”
Wiping another tear from her eye, she nodded.
Rex kneeled before her on one knee and slipped the ring from his pocket. “Like a fine cheese, we get better with age. I want to be the man who grows old with you and shares his life with you. You are my world and I love you more than I ever thought was possible to love someone. Monica Lyn Hughes, will you marry me?”
“Yes,” she cried with tears of joy. He slipped the ring on her finger then stood, drawing her to him, sealing the engagement with a kiss.
Chapter Twenty-Three
Monica held her breath while she opened the envelope. She shouldn’t have received a decision on her college applications yet, but a correspondence had just come in the mail from UL Lafayette. When she received her acceptance from GW, it had come in a large packet, but the letter today was a regular sized envelope.
She hadn’t realized just how much she was counting on an acceptance. If she didn’t get in, she didn’t know what she would do. Sure, there were plenty of jobs she was qualified for with her current degree, but none that she wanted to pursue. She didn’t even have her part-time job anymore—they’d let her go during her time in Pennsylvania.
Slowly exhaling, she tore open the seal, surprised to find a handwritten note. She read it in its entirety, amazed at the words on the paper. The dean of admissions had sent a personal note of acceptance, an unheard-of action. Her application in conjuncture with previous work experience and glowing recommendations had not only earned her acceptance, but also a full scholarship available to a select group of students returning to further their education in order to transition to a new but related career. Her new life was falling into place.Thank you, Jesus.
She called Rex and left him a brief message with the good news but would save the details to tell him in person. Chance pawed at her leg, begging for a walk to burn his excess energy and enjoy the cool weather.
For over a week, the locals had unwittingly amused Monica as they complained about the cold front passing through. Fifty-eight degrees as the high temperature this late in November would be a warm front in Pennsylvania. She grabbed Chance’s leash from the laundry room and set out on a long walk.
Braving her fear of seeing Ole Blackbeard, she took Chance through the harvested cane fields rather than along the road. She unleashed him, giving him the freedom to run as he pleased. Laugher gurgled from deep within as she watched him chase a lizard through the field, knowing that even if he caught it, he would let it go and not harm the little guy.
Once Chance expended his energy, Monica called him, and he immediately obeyed. They walked to the house, taking their time as Chance had worn himself out running. A familiar SUV with Pennsylvania license plates was parked in the driveway.
Her pulse raced through her, sending warnings to her brain. She stayed back and called Rex. No answer on his personal or work cell.Think, Monica. You’ve been trained for this.Remembering she had his office number programmed for emergencies, she called him, praying he answered.
“Agent Fontenot,” his deep voice answered in a professional tone.
“It’s Monica.”
