by Gwen Masters
Richard beckoned the realtor inside and told her they wanted the house. By the time the end of the day was out, the For Sale sign had gone up on his property, and their offer for the house had been made. She signed her name on the contract, right beside his, and that alone made her both happy and incredibly scared. This was the real deal, and now there was no denying it. That night Rebecca lay in bed beside Richard and fretted. “What if we don’t sell it in time?”
He rolled over her. When he slid into her, she wasn’t thinking about money or houses or contracts. She was thinking about how perfectly he fit, how he could stroke the fire to life inside her with just a simple touch. Her whole body came alive when he moved within her.
He murmured against her lips, “We need to think about how we’re going to fill up all those bedrooms.”
She arched up to him, more than ready to get started.
Epilogue
Despite the bitter cold and the impossible amount of snow, springtime did eventually come to Iowa. On a bright April day, Richard pulled into the driveway and studied the front of their new house. There were flowers everywhere, tumbling out of planters, bursting from the flower beds, even trailing down from hanging pots. The yard was alive with colour, and now that the trees had leafed out in the warmth of the approaching summer the shade was heavenly. Red maples lined the road and giant oak trees stood sentry in the backyard. It wouldn’t be long before he would have to mow the lawn again.
He climbed out of the truck. Rebecca’s car was parked at the back of the drive, the new paint job gleaming in the afternoon light. The front door was open, and through the screen he observed Rebecca as she moved around the kitchen, singing to a song on the radio. He let himself in quietly, not wanting to disturb her, as she danced across the floor, her hips moving, her feet shuffling. When she turned and caught sight of him she blushed, then put down her dishtowel and came into his arms. Her kiss tasted like coffee, and the kitchen smelt like cinnamon.
“How was work?” she asked, and he sat down at the kitchen table. She watched as he poured a cup of coffee. She thought she would never get used to the thrill of waking up with him every morning, living in this house with him every day, and expecting him to come home every night. It was a dream come true.
“Work was interesting. The new computer system kept going down, and I had no idea how to fix it, but you know Mike? The new boy we hired from the high school programme?”
“Yeah?”
“He fixed it. I’ve never seen anything like it. He took one look at the thing and touched a wire here and there, and then we were off to the races.” Richard took a sip out of his coffee. “That kid reminds me of how old I’m getting.”
“You’re not old.”
“I don’t know where the modem is, much less how to fix it.”
“I don’t, either. Does that make me old?”
“You will never grow old. How was your day?”
“I spent the day at the high school, taking graduation pictures.”
“It starts that early?”
“Oh, yeah. They already have their caps and gowns.”
“This is the last time you will have to do that, you know. As soon as that book comes out, you won’t have to take graduation pictures ever again.”
Rebecca smiled at him. His belief in her was so strong, he was certain her book of Iowa photographs would sell like hotcakes and make them millionaires. She was pretty sure it didn’t work like that, but the fact that he believed it could was inspiring.
She pulled peach cobbler out of the oven. Richard’s stomach growled at the sight of the tender peaches and golden crust. She looked over her shoulder. “Hungry?”
“As a bear.”
She spooned the warm cobbler into bowls and pulled the ice cream from the freezer.
“I got something in the mail today,” he said, and pulled a manila envelope from his coat. He hung the coat on the chair, taking his time, and turned back to see her looking at the papers. She flipped through them for a moment before her eyes met his. “Is this what it looks like?”
“That’s what it looks like.”
Rebecca’s eyes swam with tears. She put the papers down on the table and leaned over them, her hands touching the signatures. “I knew this was coming,” she said. “And it makes me happy, but it makes me sad, too. Is that weird?”
“I cried when I got them,” he admitted, and she looked up into his eyes.
“You cried?”
“It’s always hard to accept when something ends,” he said.
She reached out and put her hand on his. “How is she?”
“The same.”
In the weeks since they had moved to the new house on the outskirts of Crispin, Amanda had been moved to a hospital in Des Moines. Her condition hadn’t stabilised with treatment, and now they were trying new medications, plus intense therapies that might give her a halfway decent life. The illness that had plagued her since childhood was worse than ever, and that fact made Richard feel guilty every time he thought of it. He knew it wasn’t his fault, but there would always be that lingering doubt in the back of his mind, the question of what he might have missed, what he should have done.
It also fostered a deep determination to do the right things with Rebecca.
“I think the wondering was easier than the knowing,” he said. “When she was gone, I didn’t know how bad it could get. I almost wish she hadn’t come back.”
“You don’t mean that.”
“No, I don’t.”
Richard held her hand as they looked at the papers. Those documents meant the end of an important part of his life, and he wasn’t ashamed to mourn for that. But they also meant the chance for a new beginning, and he was grateful he now had the opportunity to try again.
He reached into his pocket and pulled out the little black box. He set it on the kitchen table, right on top of the papers. Rebecca looked up at him with startled eyes. They had talked about what the future might hold, and they had talked often about having children, but she hadn’t expected this to come so soon.
She pulled her hand away from Richard and slowly picked up the box. It was heavy in her hand, soft and warm from being against his body. “Richard…”
“Open it,” he said.
Rebecca took a deep breath and opened the box. The ring caught the light from the high windows and sent rainbows of colour over her hand. Tears stung her eyes and she wiped them away, gazing at the ring. The diamond was huge, the kind of ring she was sure he couldn’t afford, but that didn’t stop her from pulling it from the box and staring with awe.
“Rebecca,” he said.
She couldn’t look at him. She couldn’t do anything but stare at the ring, soaking up the reality of it, the dream she hadn’t dared put voice to in all those long months of togetherness. Richard watched her, smiling at her reaction, happy he had given her something she wanted so badly. Maybe she hadn’t said it before, but he had seen it in her, the longing that said she needed the next step.
He needed that next step, too. He needed it more than he could ever put into words.
“Rebecca, baby. Look at me.”
She finally looked up at him and wiped the tears from her cheeks. She knew what he was going to ask, but was there really any question?
“Yes,” she whispered.
“I haven’t asked you yet,” he teased, and she teased right back.
“This ring does all the asking you need.”
He came around the corner of the table, and she shook her head. “You’re not getting down on one knee, are you?”
He grinned and knelt to the floor. Inexplicably, Rebecca started blushing. The red in her cheeks made her look so young and happy, and the beauty of her took Richard’s breath away.
“Rebecca,” he said, and to his surprise she knelt down on the floor with him.
“Yes.”
“Will you be my wife?”
“Yes!”
She threw her arms around him. Richard
buried his face in her shoulder and laughed. He pulled the box from her hand and took out the ring, then slid the diamond on her finger. It looked good on her, just as he had known it would.
“We’ve got a wedding to plan,” he whispered in her ear, and she laughed with him, the tears still falling. He helped her up from the floor and together they stood in the kitchen while the cobbler cooled and the ice cream melted. The flowers outside bloomed in a chaos of colour as they both thought about the wintertime that had just passed, the stranger she had been, the blizzard that had trapped her, and the beautiful things that could happen to two people during a week in the snow.
About the Author
Gwen Masters has seen hundreds of her short stories published in print and online, and her erotic novels have been translated into half a dozen different languages. When she's not writing smut, she is diving into research on interesting yet obscure topics, hopping a plane every few weeks, and masquerading as a serious news journalist. She splits her time between a home on the Georgia coast and a little place on the outskirts of Philadelphia.
Email: [email protected]
Gwen loves to hear from readers. You can find her contact information, website and author biography at http://www.total-e-bound.com.
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