Having hung Lori’s jacket up, Marco returned with the menus and offered to open the champagne. Suppressing a giggle, Lori watched as he struggled with the cork before it finally came loose with a resounding POP.
“Can we keep that one, please?” asked Jake, his question surprising both the maître d’ and his fiancée.
“But of course, Mr Power,” replied Marco, handing the cork to him.
Lori was looking at him quizzically.
“Call me old fashioned,” began Jake, after they had been left alone with their champagne. “My mom always used to keep the cork from any special bottles. She said it brought luck if you put a silver coin in the cork.”
Rummaging in his pocket, Jake produced a dime and rammed it hard into the swollen damp cork base.
“A gift from me to you, to wish you luck for tomorrow,” he said warmly, passing the cork to Lori.
Giggling, she accepted it graciously, turning it over in her hand a few times before putting it carefully into her small purse.
“Thank you,” she whispered, suddenly feeling very emotional.
Raising his glass, Jake smiled at her, “Here’s to us, li’l lady.”
“To us,” echoed Lori, mirroring his smile before taking a small sip from the glass.
Amidst more nervous laughter, they both opted for their favourite dishes from the menu, realising that they both almost always chose the same thing when they dined there. As ever, the meal was delicious, both of them relishing in the company of the other. Completely relaxed, they chatted animatedly about their hopes and fears about the wedding, both of them confessing to being more than a little nervous about being the centre of attention for the day.
“That’s rich coming from you,” laughed Lori. “You can stand on that stage and sing to thousands of fans, but you’re scared of facing our closest friends and family in the lounge room!”
Blushing, Jake nodded silently.
“I love you, rock star,” she said, reaching across the table to take his hand.
“I love you too, Mz Hyde,” he declared formally. “And to show it, I have a gift, well two actually, for you.”
Jake reached round into the inside pocket of his leather jacket and brought out two small silver cloth bags with a blue cord fastening each of them.
“I wasn’t sure when was the right moment to give you these,” he said, feeling like a tongue tied teenager on a first date.
Accepting the two small bags, Lori carefully untied the bows and lifted out two silver bangles. The two silver bangles Jake had purchased in London when they visited the British Museum. Looking puzzled, Lori turned them over in her hand.
“They’re perfect, Jake,” she breathed. “Thank you.”
Both bangles were an identical Mobius strip design; both had a different verse engraved into them. Silently she read the first one, “May all beings be peaceful. May all beings be happy. May all beings be safe. May all beings awaken to the light of their true nature. May all beings be true.”
“It’s a Metta prayer,” explained Jake shyly. “A Buddhist meditation.”
“And the other one?” asked Lori, admiring it.
“It’s an extract of a Shakespearean sonnet. Sonnet 116 to be exact,” he replied. Clearing his throat, Jake began to recite the verse,
“Let me not to the marriage of true minds
Admit impediments. Love is not love
Which alters when it alteration finds,
Or bends with the remover to remove:
O no; it is an ever-fixed mark,
That looks on tempests, and is never shaken;
It is the star to every wandering bark,
Whose worth's unknown, although his height be taken.
Love's not Time's fool, though rosy lips and cheeks
Within his bending sickle's compass come;
Love alters not with his brief hours and weeks,
But bears it out even to the edge of doom.
If this be error and upon me proved,
I never writ, nor no man ever loved.”
“Beautiful,” sighed Lori, feeling her emotions threatening to overcome her again. “Thank you. I feel guilty now. I didn’t bring you a gift.”
“No need,” assured her fiancé with a smile. “Will you wear these tomorrow?”
“Of course,” she promised, slipping them back into their little bags. “They are absolutely perfect.”
“That’s what I thought when I saw them in London.”
“London?” she echoed.
“I’ve had these since our trip to the British Museum back in October,” confessed Jake. “I couldn’t choose between them so thought “what the hell” and bought them both.”
“And here I thought you only had your mind on the ancient Egyptians when you were in the gift store,” giggled Lori, remembering their afternoon in museum fondly.
Coral McCallum lives in Gourock, a small town on the West coast of Scotland with her husband, two teenage children and her beloved cats.
https://coralmccallum.wordpress.com
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Impossible Depths (Silver Lake series Book 2) Page 46