She reached into her apron pocket.
Almost ceremoniously, she opened her palm and showed the celandine to him.
“I carry it with me everywhere, because I always want to be able to touch something you’ve touched.”
He released in a gust a relieved breath he had clearly been holding, then nodded.
There was another pause.
“If you care for…for…him, Isolde…” he began carefully, his voice thick. He took a breath for courage. “I am truly sorry if you’re hurting now. I will leave you alone, if you want me to go.”
His courage and vulnerability stunned her.
He was essentially baring his neck for the chopping block and handing the axe to her.
She wanted to be brave. She wanted to be honest. But like Jacob, like Isaiah, she would do anything to protect the people she loved, and she did not have skill with swords or fists.
So she lied.
“It was not what it may have looked like to you or to anyone else, Jacob.”
And with this lie, which was not completely a lie, she attempted to protect two men she loved from each other. She thought the truth would endanger both of them.
Jacob’s expression was searching and somber, unreadable. There was nothing of judgment in it. But she wasn’t convinced he believed her. He seemed older, in a thrilling, interesting way. In truth, they both had changed; each knew their own hearts a little better. They were sadder and wiser. And this might be one of the scariest conversations either of them would ever have.
“I love you,” he said quietly. “I promise you that this love has not for one moment wavered since I first met you. I have spent every moment of every day since last I saw you trying to imagine a future where yours isn't the first face I see every morning, where my destiny isn’t to safeguard your happiness. I cannot. I am... entirely at your mercy.”
She exhaled in a rush as joy spangled her with goosebumps.
“So I should like to know...if my selfishness…and recklessness…have altered your feelings for me. I beg of you be to bebrutallyhonest. I will not drink poison, like Romeo,” he promised hurriedly. “Imightleave the country and never come back.”
For a moment Isolde merely breathed in the sweet Pennyroyal Green air. She knew she would remember the scent of this morning for the rest of her life.
“Jacob...” she swallowed. “I think...you were how I came to truly understand the meaning of the word.”
“Which word?” he asked so warily she almost laughed. “Please don’t say ‘bastard.’”
“Love. It is the only word that can possibly describe what I feel when you're near me.”
Light flared in his face. “Which is...” he coaxed softly.
He scaled another step.
“As if everything is better. And brighter.” She spoke in scarcely above a whisper. “And bigger. And...right. Somehow the world makes much more sense when you're near and when you were gone…there was never a single moment where I stopped loving you.”
His eyes were shining. He drew a trembling thumb across her cheek, collecting one of the tears that had spilled from her eyes.
“Zold,” he said softly, “I want to marry you. If you need more time…”
“I want to be your wife,” she said at once.
They beamed at each other, a little in awe of their accord.
“Well, then.” The beautiful face of the beloved man before her was ablaze with happiness. “Let me do this properly, before I speak to your father. Isolde Sylvaine, will you do me the honor of being my wife?”
“Oh, God. Yes, please, Jacob.”
She flung herself into his arms and he lifted her up and twirled her about until the breeze sent her dress sailing, like the music box dancer.
