Say I Do

by Joan Kilby

  She let go of the trunk and edged out along a narrow branch that dipped under her weight.

  “Careful,” he called.

  “I’m fine.” She was about to take a photo when her foot slipped and she clung to the wildly swaying branch, her heart beating at her rib cage. The next thing she knew, Angus was next to her, one arm around the tree trunk, his other arm around her waist.

  “I’ve got you,” he said. “Now you can lean as far as you want.”

  Cautiously, she let go of the branch she was holding and leaned way out, letting him take all her weight. It was a strange feeling, standing on a branch narrower than her feet, holding onto nothing, suspended far above the ground. But she trusted Angus as she’d never trusted anyone else.

  Carefully, she focused on the blossom and snapped the photo. “Got it.”

  He pulled her back in. With him occupying the space next to the trunk, there was nothing for her to hold onto except for him. She wrapped both her arms around his waist, her face inches away from his. The tree top swayed with their combined weight.

  “Now what?” he said. “Do we call the fire department?”

  “Don’t worry,” she said. “We’re not going to fall. I’m completely at home in trees.”

  “I’m happy to hug you all day long but I’m not sure how long this branch will hold our weight.” He risked a glance at the ground and then shut his eyes.

  “Oh.” Recollection hit her. She’d forgotten he was a little afraid of heights. Which made his gesture in climbing up to save her all the more endearing. What a sweetheart.

  The sunrise sparked red glints in his dark hair and his olive skin glowed. His mouth was tantalizingly close. He’d said that she could decide when to kiss him next. At the time she’d thought that would never happen. Now, the very air around them shimmered with light and felt alive with possibility.

  She started to lean closer. His eyelids closed and his throat moved as he swallowed. She sensed him tremble and felt a stirring in her own blood. On second thought, this was dangerous. And not just because they might fall.

  Loosening her grip slightly, she slid down his body until her feet found the branch below. Then she grasped a branch with one hand and then another. Within seconds she was back on the ground, looking up.

  “Are you okay?” she called. “Should I come back up and guide you down?”

  He muttered something under his breath and made his way slowly down the tree until he was standing next to her.

  “I should have remembered that you don’t need rescuing,” he said as he brushed bark and dry lichen off his shorts.

  “I got a much better shot than I would have if you hadn’t held me,” she said. “Thank you.”

  “That makes risking my neck worth it.” He paused. “What happened up there? Why did you change your mind?”

  He meant the near kiss.

  “I…” She looked at him and glanced away. After a long pause, she said, “I guess I am afraid of my feelings for you—for good reason.”

  “At least you have feelings for me,” he said softly.

  She couldn’t deny it, but wasn’t ready to say more. “We should go.”

  Angus looked like he wanted to continue the conversation but he nodded. “I have to get to work.”

  They got their bikes and started walking back through the orchard.

  “This was fun,” she said, striving for a return to a normal friendship. “Thanks for bringing me.”

  “I miss doing stuff like this,” he replied. “No one else I know likes to climb trees at six a.m.” He paused, then added casually, “Do you want to go fishing in a couple of days? It wouldn’t be a date, more like catching dinner.”

  “I never knew there were so many ways to spend time together that aren’t dates,” she observed dryly. “In fact, looking back, I’m not sure we’ve ever been on a date.”

  “I can think of an infinite number of non-dates we could go on.” He waited, a smile playing around his mouth. “Well?”

  Birdsong burst forth suddenly overhead, jubilant and sweet. Brianna laughed out of sheer surprise. Then she looked at Angus. There was no such thing as just a normal friendship when it came to him. She might as well accept it. “Yes, I’d like that.”

  Chapter Nine

  Angus steered his rental boat toward Brianna’s dock the following Sunday in late afternoon. He slung the painter around a cleat and texted her that he’d arrived. While he waited, he recalled how her face had glowed in the rosy dawn at the orchard. Sunrise, and now sunset. He wanted to be with her at the beginning and the end of every day—and all through the night. His hand went to his heart and sought the hard circle of the engagement ring hanging inside his shirt. When would he find the right moment to offer it to her?

  They hadn’t spoken or seen each other since the orchard except for a few hurried texts, mostly about the progress of the hall. He’d been working twelve-hour days, six days a week, alongside his crew. She would have been toiling equally hard organizing the festival. Time was ticking away, both for the community hall and the festival, and their time together.

  A screen door slammed. She appeared on the deck wearing jeans and a puffer jacket, and carrying a couple of cans of beer. Stewie raced ahead as she picked her way down the worn trail to the dock. “Can he come?”

  “Sure,” Angus said.

  The dog hopped in and make himself at home in the bow of the boat. Brianna climbed in, too, undid the painter and pushed off. Angus turned the boat in a small arc and headed out to the middle of the lake. There he turned north and opened up the throttle. Soon the boat was planing over the rippling waves, the wind blowing back his hair, turning Brianna’s into a wild mass of curls.

  They passed his favorite fishing spot and she glanced at him questioningly.

  “I want to look at something,” he yelled over the sound of the motor.

  With a nod, she turned around again, leaning into the wind. North of town, they passed the Lake View Motor Inn set on wide lawns, and the occasional house nestled among the pines. Fifteen minutes later, Angus rounded a rocky point and cut the motor to drift into a shallow bay.

  “Isn’t this Dad’s property?” Brianna asked. “Why are we here?”

  “I just wanted to see if it’s as pretty as I remembered,” Angus said, studying the shoreline. “It would be a great spot for an upmarket resort lodge.” He looked at her and winked. “Using all green technology.”

  “I could see that.” Brianna arranged her hands like a director using an imaginary viewfinder. “Cabins would be good, too.”

  “Fishing, swimming, and hiking in the summer,” he said. “Skiing and snowshoeing in the winter.”

  “Solar panels, passive heating and cooling, and smart everything,” Brianna said with a dreamy look on her face.

  “A great room with a massive stone fireplace and comfy sofas where guests could sit in the evening,” he added.

  “A show piece of modern sustainability,” she said. “A boutique eco-resort.”

  “Maybe one day Sweetheart Log Homes will build it,” he said.

  “I’ll believe that when it happens,” Brianna replied. “Dad keeps threatening to retire and Blake has the firm booked up over a year in advance. Neither of them have time for a project that big.” She reached for a fishing rod in the bottom of the boat. “Are we trolling for lake trout?”

  Angus opened his tackle box and set it on the seat between them. The boat bobbed gently on the waves as they baited their hooks. Brianna’s nimble fingers expertly tied on the lure with a fisherman’s knot.

  “Go ahead when you’re ready,” he said.

  She leaned back, brought her arm back, and cast off the right side of the boat.

  Angus cast to the left, and set the motor to dead slow as they continued north, keeping to the deeper water. A golden glow from the lowering sun spread over the lake and seemed to color the very air. Far off, in the marshes, a pair of trumpeter swans drifted side by side, necks arched.

>   “This is nice.” He popped the tins of beer and passed one to Brianna, then took a sip and let go a contented sigh.

  “Nicer than California?” she asked. “Did you like living there?”

  “It was fine.” He told her a bit about his life there, the house he’d shared with other students, the cycling club he’d joined and the hiking he’d done on the weekends. Construction work in the summers. Finally, he added, “But I missed Sweetheart and my friends.” He paused for two long beats. “I missed you.”

  “I wasn’t trying to get rid of you.” Her gaze met his, imploring him to believe her. “I wanted you to fulfil your dreams.”

  “You were part of my dreams.” He paused again. The quiet on the water encouraged him to say more. “I wanted to be the best I could be so I could give you the privileged life you were used to, the life you deserve.”

  “Privileged life?” Her rod went slack in her hands as she stared at him. “That’s not who I am. I wanted you, that’s all, for richer or poorer.”

  “Your family is one of the preeminent families in this area,” he said. “Well-off, big house, successful business, important connections…” He hesitated. This topic was a sore spot between them but it had to be talked through. She might not have consciously wanted privilege, but she took her good fortune for granted.

  “Do you really see me as that entitled?” she demanded.

  “Don’t get me wrong,” he said hastily. “I don’t begrudge you a comfortable life growing up, far from it. That’s the whole point. I wanted you to continue to have a good life.”

  “Oh, Angus, don’t you know me at all?” Furiously, she blinked and turned away. “I don’t care about those things. Material goods are nice, but I don’t need them to be happy.”

  “Mom and I had to scrimp when I was growing up,” he said uncomfortably. “I didn’t want you or our children to experience hardship.”

  “Our children?” she whispered, turning back.

  “I loved you. I wanted to marry you.” He gazed at her, his heart pounding.

  Her face softened and now a tear rolled freely down her cheek. “Oh, Angus.”

  A sharp tug on his line almost yanked the rod from his grip. “I’ve got a fish.” Quickly, he tugged back, and reeled in, let it go slack, felt a bigger tug, and started to reel in more quickly. “Feels big.”

  Brianna changed places with him, and took the tiller while he reeled in. A five-pound lake trout broke the surface, flopping wildly. Brianna handed him the net and he hauled it into the boat.

  “Let’s go barbecue this fish,” Angus said. “My mom’s place or yours?”

  “Mine,” she said. “We can sit out on the deck and watch the sunset.”

  “Sounds perfect.” Angus restarted the motor and turned in a wide arc that would take them back to the other end of the lake and Brianna’s cottage.

  With the roar of the motor making further conversation impossible, he thought over their exchange. Maybe he’d had more misconceptions about her than he’d realized, colored by his own background. Little by little, with better communication, the barriers were coming down on both sides.

  *

  Brianna made a salad and brought it out to the table on the deck. Angus had cleaned the fish at the outside tap and prepared it for barbecuing. The scene was like old times, and yet different, as was everything about Angus nowadays.

  He had loved her and wanted to marry her. Just knowing that filled her with joy. She didn’t understand how he could have got her so wrong but hopefully she’d set him straight that she wasn’t some entitled princess who wanted a man for the wealth he could give her.

  Watching his head bent over the fish as he expertly wielded the filleting knife, sent a wave of love and longing sweeping over her. She was tired of fighting her attraction. Did she have the courage to explore her feelings and see where they led to? What if they could find a way, not back to what they used to have, but forward to something new?

  Further discussion could wait for another day, though. She didn’t want to talk about the future, or ask if he still wanted to marry her. Tonight she wanted to simply enjoy his company.

  “The coals are ready,” she said as he came up the steps with the fish sandwiched between two halves of a wire barbecue rack. “Wine or beer?”

  “Beer, please,” Angus said. “Any chance you have a bottle of Flathead Special?”

  “I believe I do.” The last time she’d gone shopping she’d bought a six-pack of his favorite craft brew, just in case he happened to come over.

  She went back inside for the drinks while he put the fish on to cook. Rummaging in the back of the cupboard she found the tall beer glass he’d bought at the microbrewery when they’d visited it together.

  “So that’s where my glass got to,” Angus said, coming into the kitchen.

  “You brought it to the party at my old place the night before you left for college.” After a pause, she added, “That was a strange night.”

  “Part celebration, part mourning.” He gazed at his glass with a troubled expression. Finally he glanced up. “I don’t think you’re entitled, Brianna, not at all.”

  “And I really didn’t want you to leave.” Finally it felt like the last words they needed to say about those matters. She picked up her glass of chardonnay and held it up in a toast. “To a lovely afternoon.”

  “Good company,” he replied.

  Instead of clinking glasses, they entwined their arms and held each other’s gazes while they took the first sip. It was a ritual they’d learned from watching old French movies together. In the past they’d done it ironically, almost mocking the romantic gesture and themselves. But now, as Brianna sipped the cool wine, and she got lost in the clear green of Angus’s eyes, goose bumps prickled her arms.

  Without breaking their locked gaze, she reached behind her and put her glass unsteadily on the counter. Angus did the same with his beer. The dusk-filled kitchen was shot through with shafts of setting sun, and the wall clock ticked in the silence. Slowly, she slid her arms to his shoulders and as his hands rested lightly at her waist, she raised her mouth to his.

  The kiss was unhurried, tender, searching. Brianna relearned the contours of his mouth, the scent of his skin, the rasp of his jaw beneath her fingertips. Again, she had the tantalizing sensation that he was both sweetly familiar, and excitingly new and different.

  With the kiss, hope for a reconciliation and fear of separation became magnified in equal proportion. The spark was brighter than ever, their love a light shining in the dark. But there was so little time, so much left to be resolved. At least they’d finally talked about the past. That was something.

  She eased back, her gaze still tangled with his. “The fish,” she said, with difficulty.

  He cleared his throat. “I’d better check it.”

  She brought out plates while he pulled the trout off the grill. They ate in the ruddy glow of sunset, barely speaking. A cloud of euphoria enveloped her but it was fragile, as if it could be dispersed with one wrong word. She cast glances at him now and then. Their eyes would meet, and they would both smile.

  The enormity of the kiss, and the escalation of her feelings, was overwhelming. She’d given herself permission to explore those feelings, but she’d thought it would happen slowly. Instead, one kiss had propelled her headlong into full-blown love.

  Angus was quiet, too. What was he thinking? Did he regret the moment of intimacy? Was it too soon? Her skin felt too sensitive, hyperaware, and unable to forget the feel of his touch of his mouth on hers. The air shimmered with her longing. She didn’t remember feeling this much before. Part of her wanted to sink back into her old numbness. Like a limb that had gone to sleep, she was awakening again, the blood flooding back with joyous life-affirming sensation.

  “Are you done?” she asked, rising to take his empty plate.

  “Do you want help?” he asked, also standing.

  “No, you relax.” She carried the dishes into the kitchen and pu
t them in the sink. Put the kettle on for tea. Watched him stand, arms spread at the railing as he gazed out over the water.

  Was this a new beginning? Where did they go from here? She’d suppressed her dreams of marrying Angus and carved out a different life for herself in his long absence. He, too, was on a different path with his own dreams and goals. In a sense nothing had changed. He still had an amazing opportunity to go to in Sacramento, and she still didn’t want to hold him back. If only they had more time. Each completed task in the building of the community hall, each hour that ticked by like the winding down of a clock, brought them closer to another separation.

  What if she went with him to California? She could get work, or set up her own IT consultancy. But somehow that didn’t feel right. She really didn’t want to leave Sweetheart, and she didn’t believe he did, either. Maybe her father would hire him. Did Sweetheart Log Homes have enough work for another architect? She would never try to pressure her dad for her own personal gain, and Angus was proud. She’d only realized recently how proud. He would hate it if she interceded on his behalf.

  And what if he did get a job here but their reconciliation didn’t work out? The town was his home just as much as it was hers. She didn’t think she could bear seeing him eventually move on with another woman. Marrying that other woman, having children that weren’t hers.

  He stuck his head in the door. “Is that your phone?”

  Startled, Brianna turned, head cocked. The ringing was coming from the hall table. For a moment she contemplated letting her phone go to voice mail, then remembered all the urgent calls she was waiting to hear back on for the festival.

  Hurrying, she picked up, checking caller ID as she did so. “Hey, Sarah.”

  “Remember how you emailed that small town in Japan to be our sister city for cherry blossoms?” Sarah said without preamble. “They replied in Japanese and then we forgot about it.”

  “Yes,” Brianna said. “Did you get another email?”