by Penny Wylder
“And what is that, exactly?” he asks, arms crossed, a look of stern disapproval on his face.
But he didn’t say no, I remind myself. And even if he does, I know how to counteract it now. I know how to stand up to him, the way Mom does. The way she’s always been able to.
“I plan to join Doctors Without Borders,” I say. “I’m going to help people. The way I’ve wanted to do ever since I started school.”
Beside me, Russ weaves his fingers through mine, in a show of silent support. And right then and there, I know, without ever needing an answer back… this is happening.
I’m going to follow my dreams now.
14
Wind whips at my hair, tugging long strands of it across my face. I reach up to gather it into a ponytail once more, then I turn my face toward the sun and breathe a deep, satisfied sigh. The beach is gorgeous at this time of day, nearly deserted. White sand as far as the eye can see in both directions. And the water is a clear, crystalline blue, lapping up at the shore.
I kick off my shoes and wade through the sand, savoring the way it feels between my toes. When I reach the water’s edge, I dip a toe in, and suppress a shiver at how cold it feels.
Well. We all have to make compromises. You can jet off to save the world, but it won’t always be at the warmest, most bathwater tub-like beach. Guess Russ and I will have to wait until our next assignment for that.
Speaking of, I hear a call behind me, and I turn, raising a hand to shade my eyes from the sun. Russ waves as he jogs down onto the sand behind me. He’s freshly showered, which is unusual. We only get two showers a week where we’ve been stationed. And behind him, now that I’m facing away from the water and the sandy beach, and back across the island itself, there is wreckage visible everywhere. Downed power lines snarl and tangle in treetops, debris and pieces of broken houses and shanty town dwellings scatter the dunes that separate the beach front from the even more broken and pitted parts of the road on this side of the island.
But I can’t help the smile that breaks out across my face, seeing him. Russ is dressed, as usual, in his work scrubs. Same as me. Our shifts are about to begin. But he knew where to find me, naturally. As many mornings as I can, anytime that I’m up and ready for long enough before work starts, I try to make it down to the beach. I love to wake up like this, facing the wild ocean.
It reminds me to ground myself in the here and now. It reminds me that as hard as this job can be some days, it’s worth it. There’s a reason I’m here, in this particular part of the earth, which has gone through so much recently.
“There’s my little beach lover.” Russ reaches my side and wraps his arms around my waist. I tilt my head back, and his mouth finds mine, his kiss slow and searing. When we break apart again, he’s smiling, his eyes soft where they fix on mine. “I knew I’d find you here.”
I tuck into his side and let him steer me back toward the roads. As we walk, I find my shoes again and slip back into them. “You know me too well,” I say, suppressing a smile.
“Come on,” he murmurs. “We can come back here for sunset later. I get off around 6, not sure about you?”
“Same.” I smile, as we work our ways back over the dunes.
Puerto Rico is our first deployment, after another hurricane swept through just a couple of weeks ago. The devastation it left behind is heartbreaking, as is the plight of many of the people who need our help here. But being here with Russ, doing everything we can to save the lives of the people who were injured in the hurricane, or by debris falling afterward, or from electrical burns or flooding after that… it’s where we’re supposed to be. How we’re meant to give back to the world that brought the two of us together.
“Do you ever think this is what your dream was about?” I ask quietly, and then thumb over my shoulder toward the beautiful, sad, empty beach. “That time you told me you dreamt about getting me on a beach all alone with you…”
He chuckles. “Don’t be silly. I told you. That beach had warm water, none of this Atlantic Ocean surf.” His arm, still wrapped around my waist casually, squeezes me tight. “Someday we’ll go find that beach together, though. I promise.”
I smile up at him, so broad it makes my eyes crinkle. I love when he talks like that. When he reminds me that we have our whole lives ahead of us.
We reach the main road. One end of it is set up with makeshift cabins for us, the crew here to help. The other end holds the big white medical tents, all marked with Red Cross flags. Doctors Without Borders didn’t exactly pan out, at least not yet—it turns out they have a crazy long wait list. But Russ and I are both on it, together. And I think in the meantime we wound up doing the next best option.
When we reach the medical tent compound, which in and of itself almost looks and operates like a miniature hospital, sprawled between tents instead of in fancy office building wings on the Upper West Side, Russ gives my ass one last hard slap.
I laugh and reach over to try and slap his back, but he’s already out of reach, waving over his shoulder at me. “Remember, date night tonight,” he calls before he ducks into the far tent, the one marked Surgical over the flap in bright red Sharpie.
As if I could forget.
Still shaking my head and grinning a little, I duck into my own tent. The wing set up for caring for the patients in recovery after surgery. The nurse whose shift is ending as I duck inside takes one look at my face and rolls her eyes with exaggeration.
“Let me guess,” she says, her smile only a little bit rueful. “That sexy older man of yours woke you up with a little breakfast in bed… or, wait, no.” She squints closer at me. “Breakfast sex in bed? You have that glow.”
I snort and waved her off. “Oh, please.” But I can’t really deny it, either. Before my walk and Russ’s shower time, we did enjoy ourselves a bit…
“Girl, you really have life figured out,” she insists, still chuckling and shaking her head, even as she passes her chart over to me to start going through the patients list.
The rest of the day passes in a pleasant, if hectic, blur. We have a pretty damn good day today, actually. We don’t lose anybody, which is always a good sign. And two of our patients who have been flat on their backs ever since the hurricane first hit, due to the severity of the injuries they sustained when their house collapsed over their heads, are finally able to take their first wobbling steps toward freedom.
It’s days like today that remind me I did the right thing in coming here. And that, no matter what, I’m following my heart. You never know when a hurricane could explode right in the middle of your life. You never know what the future holds, either. So you can’t afford to just wait around for life to get on the same page as you, or for your dreams to finally be within easy reach.
If you wait for your dreams to come to you, it will never happen. You need to go out and catch them yourself. Which is exactly what I came to Puerto Rico to do, and exactly what I’ve been able to learn how to do since I arrived. With Russ at my side, we can accomplish any dream we set our minds to.
By the end of the day, I’m aching from head to toe, but I’m happy, too. Even happier when I wash my hands in the sink out back of the tent complex, then get to step into the warm stream of my twice a week warm shower. I sigh with relief, sticking my head under the heated current and basking for a moment in the marvels of modern life. The rest of the week I’m stuck with freezing cold water, not the drinkable kind either, and our showers can only last a minute max. Right now I have five whole minutes, which feels luxurious.
After the shower, sparkling clean, I change into my civvie clothes, as we’ve started nicknaming our regular outfits, and I feel like a whole new woman. I emerge from the shower and pad over to the cabin that Russ and I share. It’s a little larger than the single ones, which is why we opted for it, even though we knew it might be fast to move straight to living together when we got here.
After all, back at home, I spent the last six months living back at my parents’ pla
ce while we were getting all of our paperwork in order and making preparations. But more often than not, I wound up crashing over at Russ’s half the time anyway. So it’s not like moving into the same cabin here was a complete stretch.
And surprisingly, despite the atmosphere and the fact that we’re living somewhere harder than usual, for most new couples testing out cohabitation for the first time… it’s been easy. More than easy. It’s felt right, being here with him. I duck into our cabin, and I spot a note on top of our bed. I stash my scrubs in the closet before I pick it up, feeling a little flutter in my stomach.
I hope it’s not bad news. Some nights we make plans as best we can, but last minute Russ will get called into the OR for an emergency, if a patient takes a turn for the worse. We have to keep ourselves flexible, to work around our schedules so we can do the work we came here to do. It’s rewarding, but that doesn’t mean it’s not frustrating and exhausting sometimes.
But when I flip the note open, I relax, a smile spreading across my face.
Meet you at our place? Is all it says, signed with a little X. Unable to keep myself from grinning, I grab a light jacket from the peg. Sometimes it gets breezy down on the beach, even despite the near constant tropical heat. Late at night, anyway…
Then, all showered and fresh and clean, I pick my way back down the street toward the beach where Russ caught me this morning. It’s become our unofficial spot. Or maybe official, since I’ve heard a few of our colleagues talk about how often they see us heading down there. At what point does something like that become official, I wonder?
When I reach the beachfront, I think I have my answer. I stop dead in my tracks, my jaw dropping.
Russ has set the whole place up like a restaurant. There’s a table and chairs set up, and a big awning draped in fairy lights. I recognize the lights as a set that one of the new arrivals brought with her, a nurse who loves to decorate her cabin back in the compound where we all stay. But the awning and the tables, I have no idea where on earth he scrounged those up.
Or where he got the food he’s serving, because to judge by the scents wafting toward me, if it’s anything like it smells, it will be delicious.
“That doesn’t smell like Taco Shack,” I point out, as I stride across the sand toward my man, waiting beside his creation with his arms crossed, looking far too pleased with himself.
Out over the water, the sun is just starting to set, casting orange and pink lights on the fluffy clouds at the horizon, and making the waves on the ocean seem to sparkle with light, like each one is a tiny gemstone, studded in brilliance. The view takes my breath away.
So does Russ. He dressed up, I realize, wearing slacks and a button down shirt, though he left the top few buttons undone. His only concession to the tropical climate we’re in.
He looks good. Better than good. The sunset highlights the silver lines in his hair and along his jawline. He grew his beard out here, mostly at my insistence, because damn, if you thought the man looked like a silver fox before he let his beard grow, then you have no idea how sexy he looks now.
“You did all this for me?” I ask, as I skip across the last few feet of sand to reach him.
He sweeps me up in his arms and spins me in a little half-circle, before he sets me lightly back on my feet and leans in to kiss me.
Every time he kisses me, I swear, time stops. I loop my arms around his neck, run one hand through his thick, full hair, as his hand twines through mine, too.
When we part once more, we’re both breathless, our eyes alight, glazed with desire. “I called in a few favors,” he explains as he breaks away from me to pull out my chair. I take a seat and let him push it back up to the table’s edge, before he crosses around to sit on the other side of the table.
The food smells even better up close. “What, did you fly your chef friend out here as a surprise or something?” I chuckle.
He grins, eyes twinkling. “Not quite. But I did convince one of the best chefs on the island, whose wife we treated for severe internal bleeding earlier this month, to make us this meal.”
My mouth waters. Puerto Rico is not just beautiful, it also has some of the best food you’ll find anywhere. But it looks like this isn’t even the traditional Puerto Rican food we’ve been dining on at our local spots for the past few months since we arrived. When Russ lifts the lid off the tray with a flourish, my eyes go wide.
“You didn’t.” I burst into laughter. On the plate between us sits a full American style meal: perfectly cooked burgers topped with avocados and some sauce that smells spicy. A plate of ribs in Southern BBQ sauce. Even Cajun spiced French fries. “Oh my god.” I reach for a fry and pop it into my mouth before he can even react. I let out a groan of appreciation at the explosion of flavors.
“I asked you what food from back home you were missing,” Russ says softly. “This is everything you mentioned.”
My eyes widen. There’s even a plate of dumplings, just like the ones I love so much at Vanessa’s back in New York, near campus, where I used to eat all the time in nursing school. My eyes water as I realize how closely he paid attention to that conversation. “You remembered,” I whisper.
“Of course.” He reaches over to take my hand and squeezes lightly. “I remember all the important things, when it comes to you,” he says. “I always have.”
He’s right. In the year since we started dating, he’s remembered so much about me that I never even knew he would. My favorite outfits, the style I wear my hair on nights out, my favorite foods, bands, books, movies. I’ve never had a partner so attentive before, and it makes me all the more grateful to be with him now.
I don’t know what I’d do without him.
As if reading my mind, Russ catches my eyes and smiles. “I’m so glad we made it here, Maggie. Together.”
“So am I.” As gently as I can, I extricate my hand from his, unable to resist the mouthwatering scents anymore. “But we should probably eat… Before it gets cold. You know.”
He laughs, and winks at me. “Dig in,” he says, not even bothering to tease me for my appetite.
I’m sure he can’t blame me. After all, like I said, Puerto Rican food is delicious… but sometimes you miss home cooking. Or at least, home restaurant food. I dig in, and groan with appreciation at every new bite and flavor I taste. All the while, Russ explains how he talked the chef into making this for us, and a local worker who’s rebuilding one of the houses up the road lent him the gazebo to bring down to the beach as a makeshift roof. He borrowed the chairs and table from another volunteer, too.
So many favors and so much effort, all to make me smile. “I hope I’m worth all this,” I joke, when he reaches the end of his long explanation.
But the words only make Russ tense, his eyes go wide. “Maggie. You’re worth every bit of effort I spent today and a million more. I don’t ever want to stop making you smile.” He glances out over the water. In the distance, the sun is just starting to set. The sunsets here are always pretty too, much like the people and the food and the culture. But tonight’s sunset looks like it’s really going to be something extra special.
From the brilliant rays it casts out over the ocean, I can tell it will be an unforgettable night.
And that’s before Russ slides off his chair.
“I have something to confess, though, Maggie,” he says, in a voice that makes me hesitate where I sit, and then slowly, staring at him, lower my burger back to my plate. I reach for a napkin to wipe off my hands, as Russ holds my gaze.
Then he sinks down in front of me. I’m so shocked that I don’t even process it until later—but he’s only kneeling on one knee.
“I didn’t just bring you out here tonight for a fun time. Well, okay, I also brought you for that, but.” He winks. “I brought you here because I wanted to ask you a very important question.” He reaches out, and I still don’t get it, because I am completely oblivious.
But when he gently picks up my left hand from my lap and draws it ou
t to hold it in his left, I start to realize. “Russ…” I clap my right hand over my mouth, my eyes starting to water.
Is this real? It feels like a dream. Like a fantasy I could have dreamt up. In fact, if I’m being honest, I have dreamt about this moment. About what it might look like, what I might say, if Russ popped the question. I just never imagined he would feel comfortable enough and sure enough about our love to do it this quickly. I thought he’d need another year or two with me to feel sure about things.
I’m not quite sure why I thought that, though. After all, I was sure by the time we boarded the plane to fly to Puerto Rico together. I knew he was the one I wanted to spend the rest of my life with.
My throat goes tight, so tight I couldn’t say a word if I wanted. But that’s okay, because Russ isn’t finished talking yet.
“Since I’ve been with you, Maggie, you’ve made me appreciate the world in a whole new way. You’ve made me want to attack life, not just to sit by and be content with where the current takes me. I want to keep up that same energy, the same vigor, that you’ve given me, for the rest of my days. I want to go through this life with you beside me, both of us together making more of a difference in the world than we ever could apart.”
As he talks, he reaches into his pocket with his free hand, and withdraws a little velvet box.
“Maggie Owens. Will you marry me?”
I hiccup. Actually hiccup. In the future, he’ll remind me of that so often it will become a running joke. But then I force through the sound with a laugh and start nodding, before my mouth will even work properly. “Yes. Yes, of course I will.” I barely even notice the ring he slides onto my finger, at least not in the moment. Later, I’ll admire the beautiful diamond, surrounded by tiny little emerald studs, because he knows green is my favorite color, and because he remembered me saying one day that I thought plain diamond engagement rings weren’t unique enough for me.