The Light Before Us

by Stephanie Vercier

  It’s the kind of thing Marjorie would have done, the thing she’d have wanted me to do.

  They’d already okayed the clinic name being attached to Marjorie’s foundation, so when they agreed to this extra bit of philanthropy, I should have been over the moon. Isn’t that what I’d needed to help work through my grief? Not just to pour myself into my work or my extra earnings into Marjorie’s foundation, but to use my skills as a surgeon to provide more meaning? But it’s the way in which they’d accepted my plan that set me off. The only real interest they had in providing pro bono or reduced price, life-changing surgeries was how good it would look for our public image. It wasn’t about doing a good deed—it was about making more money and attracting more top dollar clients.

  It was materialistic and shallow.

  And I had to get away from them.

  “You could use the rest,” Lincoln said after I’d purchased his cabin, the details of my sabbatical having been worked out.

  “It will do you good,” Louisa added on, giving me that look of hers she usually only reserved for her out-of-work brother, a man she found to be weak and pathetic.

  If I didn’t share ownership of the clinic, they’d have probably fired me, told me there were no ill feelings and cut me some kind of severance check. But instead they planned to replace me with two extra surgeons to take on my workload, “until you’re good and ready to come back,” they’d assured me.

  I’d said about a million silent fuck you’s to the both of them as I left town, burying the fact that I wouldn’t be helping any of those pro bono cases because of pride or anger or whatever. All I knew was that I needed to get away… fast.

  But my life has gone into a different direction, one I could have never imagined. I’m happy, as happy as I think I could ever be considering I’d lost Marjorie. And that happiness is all because of Natalie.

  She’s back over at Barbara’s today, and I’m in Ashland, opening the door to the finest jeweler in town with the best reviews that I could find. As the anger from the past had melted away, I’d begun planning to ask Natalie to be my wife, to be a part of a future I’d only recently allowed myself to see.

  “How can I help you today?” An older man asks as I walk up to the display case filled with glittering diamond rings.

  “I’m looking for an engagement ring,” I tell him, having come here in slacks and a dress shirt and a freshly trimmed beard. I want to look the part of professional and meticulous when I pick out just the right ring for the woman I’m so completely in love with.

  “Always one of my favorites to help our customers out with,” he says with a wide grin. “Do you have a price point in mind?”

  The question takes me back to when I’d chosen a ring for Marjorie. I was in med school, wanting to prove I could be my own man without depending on my parents. Back then, I’d made most of my spending money during summers doing construction, and it didn’t leave a whole lot for a ring. What I’d been able to buy for Marjorie then hadn’t been the same as what I believed she deserved.

  I throw a fairly large number out to him. I could spend more, and Natalie—like Marjorie—deserves more. But Marjorie had been more than happy with what I’d given her, had assured me time and again that it was perfect, that there were far better things to spend money on than a giant, ostentatious diamond ring.

  The older man nods in approval. “We won’t have a problem finding anything in that range.”

  I try to imagine what Natalie would want as he shows me tray after tray of rings and not what I personally would like to see on her finger. After several rounds through multiple display cases, what I end up with is a very simple square diamond, one that glitters like Natalie’s eyes. It’s a ring as beautiful as she is.

  “Yes! Yes, of course I’ll marry you!” I can still see the look on Marjorie’s face when I’d gotten down on my knee at the diner she worked at. It had been in the middle of the night with only a couple of regular customers and the cook to witness it. But maybe that’s what had made it so fitting. It didn’t need to be some grand show—it just needed to be about us.

  It had been perfect, and we’d both imagined a life of growing old together.

  My only regret now is that I hadn’t asked Marjorie sooner. I’d wasted time because I hadn’t wanted to rush things, had listened to my brain instead of my heart telling me I had all the time in the world to be sure Marjorie was right for me and that I was right for her.

  But I’d always known she was, and I’d grown to hate myself for not manning up sooner, for losing out on an extra six months or a year we could have spent as man and wife.

  I won’t waste time with Natalie. I won’t miss one single day of being her husband if I can help it.

  “You have very good taste, Mr. Pierce, and I’m quite sure your young lady is going to love it,” the man says, placing the ring in a box and the box in a small gift bag.

  “I hope so.”

  As I pay for the ring, memories of Marjorie shift into hopes for Natalie. I want to imagine her saying yes, want her to be just as thrilled as I am, want her to continue to be okay with my feelings and believe I can be a good husband to her even if Marjorie will always be a part of my life.

  Driving home, I have an inexplicable sense of how odd it is that I can be both grateful and overjoyed for getting Natalie while a part of me remains mournful at losing Marjorie, another part of me at peace with still loving her. By not denying those feelings, I’m able to look forward to a life with Natalie, a life where I will make sure she knows every single day how much I love her, how I never want to let go of her.

  When I get back to the cabin, I’m riding high on hope and optimism. Natalie won’t be home for a while, and I’m buzzing, unable to keep still. Changing into shorts and a short-sleeved button up, I put on a pair of aviators and head out to the dock and slip into the boat for a round of fishing that I hope will help work off my excess energy.

  It’s a beautiful day, not a cloud in the sky, and as I look back to the cabin, I see a bolt of blackness shooting toward me. While cats are supposed to be terrified of water, Blue scampers up the dock and jumps into the boat before I set off into the lake. He curls up next to me, relaxing under the bright summer sun, barely making a peep, only exciting when I start pulling trout in, one by one. Licking his chops, I finally take pity on him and toss him one of the trout I’ve already chopped the head off of. He goes at it like a lion to his prey, and I can’t help but to laugh. Him tearing into the fish’s flesh is a messy affair, but he seems to know just what he’s doing. I guess he’s been surviving out here long before I, or Natalie, showed up.

  All it takes is just a thought of her to make my nerves peak, and this relaxing early afternoon of fishing suddenly feels stressful, as though I’m wasting time when I should be going in and getting things ready. I want this evening to be perfect, to prove to Natalie that I’m sure of what I want, that what I want is for her to be my wife.

  “You think Natalie will want to marry me?” I ask Blue who actually looks up at me, his mouth covered in fish guts, and meows loudly. “Is that a yes?” He stares at me for another second or two before tearing back into the trout.

  Truth is that I know she loves me, but will she actually want to marry me? She’s young and beautiful with so much ahead of her, so many plans and possibilities. Free of Michael, she could choose to be like a lot of other women her age, finish up college and play the field without having to think about a husband or kids for years to come.

  She’d come to Meadow Brook to find freedom, and the thought that I might not be included in her future dreams is a terrifying one. I’d have to be glad for her, of course, if she’d choose to spread her wings without me. But even the thought of it is agony. I don’t imagine many people find true love twice in a lifetime, and why should I be so lucky? Regardless of why or how, all I know is that I want it—I want her.

  After I’ve caught half a dozen fish, I begin rowing the boat back to shore. Bloated like he’d
just gone on a major binge, Blue suns himself on the seat opposite me, cleaning his paws in slow, measured movements.

  “You’re a messy eater,” I tell Blue, then take a quick break from rowing to scoop up the remains of the fish and toss them back into the lake.

  Blue doesn’t seem to care, barely even acknowledges me as I tie the boat up to the dock. But when I climb out, he gets a burst of energy, follows me out and tears down the dock before disappearing into a grove of trees.

  I clean the remaining fish outside, then throw the remnants into the lake and head inside to put things together. I do all of the cooking, fish, baked potatoes, asparagus, carrots and a salad, before showering and putting on a fresh set of clothes. Like this morning, I’m wearing my best, a button up and trousers, nice shoes with my hair combed out nicely, my beard trimmed short and neat. No doubt Natalie will look amazing when she gets back. No matter what she wears, she always manages it.

  I set up a small wooden folding table and matching chairs by the lake that I’d picked up on one of my lumber buying trips. I’m hoping for a partial re-creation of the picnic she’d put together for the two of us, the picnic where things got interesting.

  Now with everything set up, wine chilling in the fridge and the food warming in the oven, it becomes a waiting game.

  But thankfully I don’t have to wait long.

  When she pulls up in her car, I have to wipe my sweaty palms against a dishtowel. My heart speeds up, and my throat goes a little dry. The most she’s expecting when she walks in is to perhaps be served dinner, certainly not the proposal I’m going to make to her. I just hope that, somewhere in her mind, she’s thought of this possibility and imagined she’d answer yes.

  “You’ve cooked.” She’s smiling at me when I meet her in the living room, a spark of suspicion in her eyes. “And you look really nice.”

  “I did,” I say, brushing off the compliment. “And you look beautiful. You hungry?”

  “Kind of famished,” she says with the tickle of a laugh. “Barbara didn’t want much of anything this afternoon, so all I had was an apple. And if you think yoga pants and sandals are beautiful, then—”

  I stop her with a kiss, long and deep enough that it makes me want to drag her upstairs and have my way with her. But that would ruin the surprise.

  “You’re gorgeous in whatever you wear,” I tell her once our lips have parted. And indeed, she does. Her black yoga pants accentuate all of her curves, the strap of her billowing white blouse loosened to expose the creamy white of her shoulders.

  “You’re too sweet, Jack.”

  “I’m just telling the truth.” I take her hand and lead her to the kitchen. “Let’s get you something to drink.”

  “I won’t argue.” She leans against the counter while I pop a fresh, chilled bottle of Vinho Verde and pour a glass for her. “This is all very formal, Jack.”

  “Is that a bad thing?” I ask, handing her the glass.

  “Definitely not,” she says, her eyes raking up and down the length of me.

  “And how was your day?”

  She takes a long, appreciative drink. “Okay. I asked Barbara about the talk she and Melissa had with Camille. I mean, she didn’t seem super hopeful about it, but I’m not sure she expected all that much.”

  “That’s too bad. They just can’t seem to get through to her, huh?”

  Natalie shrugs. “Barbara says she doesn’t think there’s anything they could do to make Camille happy, that she’s just got this vendetta inside of her they can’t understand. And even though Barbara didn’t want to say it, I got the gist Camille just really hates me.”

  I finish pouring myself a glass of wine and sigh. “Maybe she’ll head back north at the end of summer. I don’t want someone like that being around. You don’t deserve that, you know?”

  Her shoulders sag slightly. “Don’t I? Maybe I do, like it’s karma for running out on my wedding like that. I could have handled it differently. I could have—”

  I set my glass down and wrap an arm around her waist. “You did the right thing, babe. You know it would have been a mistake to marry that guy.”

  She sets her own glass of wine down next to mine. “I wish I’d have found the strength to just tell them no. I wish I’d tried harder.”

  “Stop beating yourself up.” I push a few stray hairs from her cheek, then slide my hand down her neck. “You don’t deserve to be hated by anyone, and you’re more mature than most people twice your age. It’s part of why I love you.”

  My hope had been to keep things light, to present our dinner by the lake to Natalie and not get on bended knee until after we’d finished. But the shift in mood makes what I need to do feel more urgent, as if going through with the planned dinner would allow more time for her to second guess her decisions in Seattle or to pull her attention back to Barbara, Melissa, and Camille’s problems and further away from she and I.

  I could save the proposal for the morning or the weekend if things were to go awry, but I’d go fucking mad with anticipation.

  I won’t waste one more moment.

  “You’re right I guess,” she says while I slide my hands away from her and turn to the kitchen drawer where I’d hidden the box. “Maybe I don’t deserve hate, but I’m really going to have to work on mending things with my parents. They’re awful in their own right, but—”

  She stops talking once I’ve turned around and am holding the box in front of her. This isn’t at all the way I’d wanted this to go, but all that’s going to matter now is her response to the question I’m about to ask her.

  “Natalie,” I say, opening the small box to expose the ring situated inside of it.

  She gasps, bringing her hand up to her mouth and covering her kissable, gorgeous lips with her fingers as her eyes widen and shine.

  I take the ring out of the box, bend down on one knee, and hold it up to her. “I can say that I’ve known you for a long time, but I didn’t really know you until this summer. It’s only when we met again, you as a grown woman, and me unattached, that I could allow myself to see you differently and to fall in love with you.” I take a breath, afraid she might tell me to stop, might say this summer has been wonderful but that she’s not ready to take this step with me. But she only seems to be waiting for more, and so I go on. “And maybe just being in love should be enough. Maybe it would keep things less complicated, but you are worth every possible complication this might create. Natalie, I love you so damn much. And it’s with that love that I’m asking you to marry me and be my wife.”

  With her fingers still covering her lips, she nods and begins to cry. “Yes,” she says, parting her fingers and then dropping them completely away. “Yes, Jack, I’d love nothing more than to marry you.”

  “You will?” I’m sure I cry too, though I clear my throat so many times as if to make it seem like I’m not.

  “Yes, of course!”

  I gladly slide the ring onto her finger, a perfect fit, just like she is.

  When I stand up, she’s already wrapping herself up and into me. All I feel is joy and thanks I didn’t wait one more second to feel this good, to know that Natalie Bouchard has agreed to become my wife.

  The moment eventually comes when we pull away from one another, and when we do, she wipes tears from her eyes, her ring glistening on her finger.

  Is that worry I see in the wrinkling of her brow and the biting of her lip?

  “What is it?” I ask her, my heart strumming at the possibility she might have already changed her mind.

  “I’m pregnant,” she says quietly. “I haven’t taken a test yet… but I know.”

  Pregnant.

  Words escape me. I can’t be surprised. If anything, I should be stunned it didn’t happen sooner. On a subconscious level, it’s what I’d wanted for a whole slew of reasons, some of which I was ashamed to have even thought, the worst being that a baby would trap her and keep her with me, the second worst being the child Natalie might have would be a replacement
for the one Marjorie and I had lost.

  But now, as Natalie stands before me, confirming in words what we both had to know was coming, I feel a mixture of shame and pure happiness, along with a fear that I’ve gone and ruined her life.

  “Can you say something?” she asks, her nose wrinkled, her teeth biting at her bottom lip.

  “You want it?” I ask her, needing to be sure.

  “Don’t you? You never once put on a condom, Jack. You never—”

  “I want it.” I pull her back to me again. “I want this child, and I want you. But I have to be sure it’s what you want. Are you ready to be a mother?”

  She doesn’t say anything at first, so I ease back, just enough to catch her eyes, wanting to see the truth in them.

  “I’m not sure I’m ready,” she says with hesitation in her voice. “It’s not like this was in my plans anytime soon, not even with Michael.”

  My heart sinks.

  “But I want to have it, Jack. I want to have this baby with you. I’ll have to finish school of course, and I won’t be able to do everything alone.”

  All of the tension that had just ratcheted up in my muscles melts away due to the absolute joy I’m feeling. “No, of course not. You know I can provide you and this baby whatever you need.”

  “I just need you, Jack. As long as I have you, then we’ll be okay.”

  “Then you’ll have me. Don’t ever doubt that.”

  And everything feels right, and I’ve just gotten more than I’d ever imagined hoping for.

  Chapter Twenty-One

  NATALIE

  How strange it is to think of what it used to be to wake up by myself each morning, to wake up without Jack next to me. As light filters through the window, he snores ever so softly, his hand splayed over my midsection, my ankle wrapped up over his. I watch him, note the way in which his chest rises and falls and how he is otherwise still and relaxed. He is what most women—and a good number of men—would call the perfect male specimen, his perfection going far beyond the body that encases a heart and soul I’ve fallen deeply in love with.