“Think about something, Laurie.” His face almost assumed its natural sarcasm but good intentions won out. “You have a job where you’re in contact with the guy in the portrait all day, every day. That’s huge. He can’t avoid you and you can’t run away from how you feel.”
He scanned the horizon and stared at it for a moment as if wondering how he’d ever reached a place of caring. “I meant what I said yesterday. Don’t rush life. Things might just work out the way you wish if you give love a chance.” He shook his head aghast at saying such un-Donaldo things. “So give it time, Laurie. Give it time.”
After some clucking and head-patting he reverted back to the Donaldo I’d always known gave one last very long shudder and retreated to the safety of the world of art that was his life. And his love.
During the drive home, I hardly noticed the early spring scenery for the scattered, errant thoughts that crashed through my mind and swept away awareness of the mud filled, thawing snow and crazy spring blossoms. Thoughts of Jase and me. Thoughts of a possible future. Thoughts of life and love. Thoughts of everything Donaldo had said.
Before I reached the edge of the big forest, I decided to take his advice. When I reached the Center, I’d take a deep breath, put on a smile, and pretend everything was normal and then I’d ask what needed to be done next because there was always something to do at the Center. I’d cry later in my own room. And while I was crying, I’d hope.
Of course with Jase’s roller coaster moods who knew if my plan would work? I gripped the steering wheel hard and couldn’t think what to do if, when I arrived, his sunshine smile was gone forever.
The sight of my tiny car in the parking lot blew all my plans to smithereens. My new life was busy enough that I’d forgotten about it. Of course even if I had remembered I had no idea what time of year the driveway to the cabin became navigable. We’d never gone there in the early spring. Maybe it wasn’t usable until summer?
I parked beside my car and confronted Jase who was standing beside it and smiling happily with the old Jase smile.
“How’d my car get here? I didn’t know the driveway was passable.”
“It wasn’t but I sweet-talked Maude into going ahead of me in her road grader to make sure it was safe and that wasn’t easy, believe me, because she said it’d still be too muddy and we could both get bogged down and drown in mud and never be seen or heard from again. But I happen to know she’s a marshmallow at heart so she did it and here I am and here’s your car.” He handed me the keys, grinning even harder.
That smile was capable of setting the woods on fire and as the following days came and went, I realized something odd. Something totally unexpected. His roller coaster moods were gone. No more moody Jase. The sunny person I’d come to know was back to stay.
How? Why? What had changed?
More importantly did the change bode good or bad for my future? Was he happy because he appreciated my help? Or because he’d decided to fire me and was just waiting for the right moment? Or didn’t I figure in his thoughts at all?
Eventually, I found out.
It was a couple of weeks later when the snow was almost gone and the mud was drying and green grass was beginning to appear everywhere instead of in tiny clumps here and there and we were in a lazy mood that he’d assured me happened every spring because no one considered trudging through mud worth the cost of lodging so they didn’t come and everything was ready for the coming summer season so we could do nothing. Absolutely nothing. We could be lazy.
It was evening and we’d remarked on how the days were getting longer. At last. We were in the main room of the Center after dinner with a fire roaring and coffee ready, the smell wafting through the huge place.
He poured himself a cup and spoke around it. “Tomorrow I want to take you for a walk on the trails through the Center’s property.” He added, “So you’ll get to know them.” As if making sure I didn’t think there was an ulterior motive to his suggestion.
He put down his coffee and stretched until his hand grazed my shoulder. I kept still because I didn’t want to scare him off and the shiver that casual gesture caused went through my entire body. “Believe it or not summer at the Center is quieter and more relaxed than winter because people come here mostly for a break from their hectic, noisy lives.”
“What do they do while they’re here?”
“Walk the trails, view the bog, and swim in the lake.” The tiny lake that I could finally see now that the ice was gone.
It sounded peaceful and lovely and I found myself itching to capture that tranquility on canvas. “Sounds nice.”
“Tomorrow you’ll see just how nice.”
I stretched because I was still reeling from that accidental touch and couldn’t sit still and somehow our arms got tangled until I brought mine back to my sides. “I love quiet summers.” I did love them. I’d had a lifetime of peaceful summers at the cabin.
Later we put away the dirty dishes together and as I headed to my room his fingers grazed my shoulder. Then my arm. I looked to see if he wanted something and saw his mouth firm as if the tiny gesture had surprised him and had happened in spite of himself but he said nothing. It wasn’t important. Then his arm dropped and I went on my way.
I thought about that touch. Maybe he didn’t hate me after all. Maybe – just maybe – given enough time Donaldo’s suggestion would work.
I crawled into bed and listened to the sound of croaking frogs that is part of spring in Minnesota and was glad I was following Donaldo’s advice. The worst that could happen was that I’d end up an old maid artist with memories of years spent working beside my beloved without him knowing how I felt.
On the other hand, maybe – just maybe -- sometime in the far distant future Jase and I would be a couple. I decided that it wouldn’t matter if it took months or even years because in the mean-time we’d be together every day of every week of every year.
So thinking, I rolled over, closed my eyes, and slept the sleep of the just. And the hopeful. I awoke to a sun-filled day and stretched and tried to think what to do until I remembered that Jase had the day all planned. So I jumped up, showered quickly, and followed the scent of pancakes to the kitchen.
CHAPTER 25
The table was set, and Jase was whistling. I sat where he indicated and ate two stacks of pancakes with sides of sausage and orange juice. Then we set off to explore the outside portion of the Center after he filled a slow cooker with whatever we’d have for dinner. The man was methodical and organized, no doubt about it. He was also a good cook. I was lucky to have him in my life.
The morning passed in a pleasant haze of filtered sun as we strolled beneath evergreens along neat, gravel paths that meandered through just about every inch of the Center property without once crossing each other. Not quite a maze but close and the inconspicuous signs here and there told the untutored what they were seeing. White pines. Lady Slippers. A fox’s burrow.
Then we sat without speaking on a bench just off the boardwalk that we’d climbed onto after crossing the bog during our life-and-death trek. No snow covered the bog now, neither was there ice and it teemed with life. A breeze sent scents both floral and musky our way. It was a special place. I could see guests spending hours on that very bench in silence. They’d come away revived and at peace with the world.
Jase surprised me with a picnic lunch from the backpack he wore. We ate sandwiches and drank pop on a cloth spread on the ground. The picnic ensemble was clearly Center property which told me that picnics were part of the Center’s summer experience.
Jase must be giving me the full tour by treating me as if I was special just as he’d make guests feel special. He was making sure I experienced everything from the perspective of a guest which meant that he thought the experience was important enough to give this entire day over to just enjoying the best that the north woods has to offer.
We spent the afternoon wandering the shore of the tiny lake near the Center buildings. The water was
icy so we didn’t go wading but we followed a path that hugged the shore. I admired marsh marigolds in the mud of the shallows as Jase pointed out a bluebird house he’d erected that looked like it was about to become a family home.
By the time we returned to the Center it was late afternoon. The sun was sinking fast. Jase said that was the end of the tour so I could do whatever I wanted for a couple of hours until dinner. We’d have dinner in the large room, he informed me, in front of the fireplace where we could enjoy the fire and watch full night arrive through the branches of the huge evergreens beyond the windows.
I showered and took a nap, drowsy and relaxed as butter. As I toweled myself, I tried to guess what the future held. Today had been unique. A pleasant surprise. Tomorrow? I couldn’t imagine.
What about Jase? What was his life becoming? When I left for the gallery his demeanor had been sour. The smiling man of today was a different Jase, the Jase I’d come to know at the cabin. His special smile was back full and brilliant and I could only hope that it never left again and that smile was the last thing I remembered as I drifted to sleep.
When I awoke, I knew dinner was ready by the wonderful smells drifting through the halls and into my room. I checked the time. I wasn’t late but I had no time to waste so I quickly brushed my hair and headed for the main room. The world beyond the Center was growing dark but the trees still were visible and a faint promise of moonlight touched the world.
I stepped into the main room. And stopped in total shock. And delight. The lights were off and a table had been dragged near the fireplace and set for two with elegant dinnerware I’d not seen before and candles. A fire in the fireplace plus those candles provided the only light in the huge room with the light of day fading quickly beyond the windows and silver moonlight growing bolder with each passing moment.
“Like it?” Jase was so close that I jumped.
“It’s lovely,” was all I could think to say. “Is this an extra treat for guests?”
I felt the breeze of the movement as he shook his head. “This isn’t for guests. This is for us.”
“Us?” My voice croaked. I had no idea what he was up to, whether it was good or bad but it must be important. It felt important. “Us? Really?” I actually looked around in case someone else had appeared to be included in that ‘us.’
“Yep. Just us. You and me.” He paused as the candles flickered and the fire flared and the last rays of daylight disappeared leaving a world of black velvet overlaid with silver. “Because it’s a special occasion.”
“What occasion?” Still croaking and no tact in my question, just a bald query, but I wanted to know. Had to know in case he was leading up to firing me and this elaborate scheme was merely to soften the blow.
He opened his mouth to speak but then changed his mind and shoved me gently towards the table where he uncovered a delicious meal. I’m sure it was delicious. It must have been to go with all the other preparations of the day. But I didn’t see it, didn’t taste it, didn’t know what it was because I was in agony.
He finished his meal, poured us each a glass of wine and leaned across the table. The candlelight cast shadows across his face, etching the line of his cheek and darkening his hair and those eyes that had depths I’d never seen in anyone else. “First off, Laurie, let me say that I’m sorry. I owe you an apology.”
I was unable to come up with a response because I still didn’t know where this was going. Was this apology a prequel to being thanked for my help and sent on my way because I was no longer needed? Or something else?
“I know I’ve been difficult to live with lately.” He paused and cleared his throat. “I’m sorry and I promise I’ll do better in the future.” Then, “But so have you been difficult.”
I thought about his statements. Not great but it didn’t sound like I was being fired after all. Not yet, anyway.
He went silent and I realized that it was my turn to speak. “That’s okay. Something was bothering you but it wasn’t any of my business and I’m sorry I was difficult.”
“Yes it was your business.”
I managed a tight laugh. “I thought it might be because of me.”
“It was.” Just as my difficult behavior was because of him.
I froze. Stopped breathing. My voice squeaked. “Because of me?” I dropped a napkin and cleared my throat and tried not to cry but tears welled so quickly that I wasn’t sure I could hold them back. I blinked hard. “I’m sorry. Whatever I did to make you feel that way wasn’t intentional.”
His response was to rise and pull me up and over to the fireplace where he dropped to the rug and drew me down beside him. “Of course it wasn’t. Because it wasn’t anything you did.” He grabbed a couple of roasting forks that he’d obviously made sure were available and slid marshmallows onto the tines of his. He handed me a fork and stuck his own in the fire. “Want some s’mores?”
I relaxed a bit. Not much but s’mores didn’t indicate a horrid future. Even with the stress of not knowing what on earth was happening the fire was mesmerizing and no one can be truly upset while making s’mores. I put a marshmallow on my own stick and stuck it in the fire beside his.
The marshmallows were great. The day and the dinner had been wonderful. The fire was beautiful. But I still didn’t know what was going on.
I wanted to know. Needed to know. Deserved to know. So I asked him, “Why are we here, Jase?”
There was a long pause. A really long pause. Then he said as simply as if he was mentioning the weather, “So I can ask you to marry me.”
His words didn’t register. I hadn’t known what to expect and his proposal was so unexpected that I didn’t realize what had just happened. “Really, Jase, tell me what I’ve done and I promise to ---”
Then the import of it hit. My mouth dropped open. My marshmallow fell off its stick into the fire where it joined Jase’s because his, too, had burned to a crisp and was now a black cinder in the flames. “What did you say?” And then because I wanted to be sure, “Please repeat that.”
He cleared his throat again. “I’m asking you to marry me.” He set his fork down and rubbed the back of his neck. “I’ve been going quietly crazy these last few weeks trying to figure whether you have any feelings for me or not. The stress has turned me into a real grouch.”
He carefully took my fork from my hand because it was dropping into the fire where it was turning red and would soon burn to a crisp and set it next to his. “While you were gone I did some thinking. I decided that the only thing to do – the only thing that could save my sanity and my good nature -- was to come right out and ask.”
He cleared his throat again because he was having a hard time talking. “So that’s what I’m doing. Asking you to marry me.” And, after a moment. “So will you? Will you marry me?” Then, in a slight panic, “Laurie. Talk to me. Please.”
My ability to speak had disappeared. Completely. I cleared my own throat much as he’d done and tried a few times to make a sound but all that came out was a croak. So, throwing caution to the winds I did the only thing I could think of to do.
I moved closer and threw my arms around him. As our bodies touched my stasis evaporated and I could speak. “Yes.”
I thought about it. About my answer. Maybe my response was too tame. Too short. After all, he’d spent an entire day building up to this moment. The least I could do was utter more than one word. “Of course I’ll marry you.”
An improvement but I could do better. He deserved better. “I’ll marry you with bells on. Wearing a parka. In the snow. In the spring. On the lawn. In front of the fireplace. Whenever. Wherever.”
His sigh of relief reached the corners of that huge room and it was a while before we got back to the business of s’mores because suddenly there was much to talk about and we were so busy learning about each other that s’mores were pretty much forgotten.
I already knew what he felt like. I’d helped when he was hurt and felt his rock-solid muscles but that night
I learned more. I learned the slant of his lips when we kissed. How his arms felt when they were around me and how he felt in mine. It was an evening of exploration that lasted almost until sunup.
The next morning – actually the next afternoon because we went to bed so late that we both slept until way past noon -- we called everyone and as soon as the weather was warm enough and the grass green enough and when his parents could come from Arizona we had a wedding. At the Center, of course, on the lawn and the weather cooperated but food was served in front of the fireplace that was already a part of my life. My future.
My father was much relieved to learn that my recent illness wasn’t physical and he was very happy to learn that the Center served decent coffee so he could visit any time without having to bring his own. He and my mother and Jase’s parents spent hours getting to know one another.
Maude made sure the roads were smooth and the driveway in great shape and she brought her several grandchildren to enjoy the food and run all over the place.
I invited Donaldo and he came. His ‘plus one’ was his mother because, as he made sure I understood with a shudder of what might have been actual distaste, he didn’t want to bring some blonde bimbo unpaid intern who might get ideas because it was a wedding and weddings made some women weird.
Eventually, they all left. We sighed, closed the door on the mess so we could ignore it, and turned to the business of getting started with our new life which didn’t take as long as might be expected because we’d been practicing ever since I answered a midnight knock on the door of the cabin in the wilderness and found Jase on the other side.
THE END
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