Page 54 of Yours

“Then how does it run?” she asks, frowning.

“The diesel engine drives an electric generator, and that electricity powers the traction motors in the locomotive’s trucks.”

“So the diesel motor is like the train’s power plant,” she says, raising an eyebrow.

“Exactly,” I reply. She’s so dang smart.

“And you know this because you were an engineer in a former life?” she says.

“I’ve always loved trains,” I say. “Since I was a kid.” It’s one of the reasons I brought her here—to central Iowa of all places—to celebrate the end of her first semester at the U plus another poetry award with a little adventure close to home. Besides the scenic train ride, there’s old, covered bridges to explore, the John Wayne museum, and good food, like homemade pies. I also have a surprise for her, something I’ve been planning for months.

“Well, it’s very romantic,” she says, her cheeks flushed. “Thank you for bringing me here.” I pull her to me for a kiss but tell myself not to get carried away. There’re families riding with us, after all. Though if we were alone, we would do all kinds of gymnastics while the train rocked and clattered. I push the thought away, hoping to keep my cock from catching on.

The train has picked up speed, blurring, and the bright green of the trees glows in the sunshine. Darcy stands and leans her head out the window, closing her eyes as the wind gently whips past her face. I marvel at her innocence and sweetness, yet how strong she’s becoming.

When she called me in January with her news, I panicked. I thought maybe something had happened again and she was hurt. But she sounded so sure of herself, so excited. And it turns out, she’s happier with school than she’s ever been, with real friends and colleagues who support each other, a community, something she never had at her fancy schools.

She still keeps in touch with her favorite prof there, which I know she appreciates. The transfer caused her to lose a few credits, so she’s decided to take a summer semester so she can graduate on time. After that, she’s talking about graduate school. She says maybe she’ll become an editor, or a librarian. Obviously, I vote for librarian and have already imagined her in nothing but a set of sexy lingerie and glasses. Not that she’ll ever give up writing poetry, but she says she wants to work with people who love literature as much as she does. I don’t care what she chooses as long as she’s happy.

She returns to my side, and I drape my arm over her shoulder, so she tucks in close. The summer-scent of the woods and the river fill the car, and the gentle rocking of the train makes it easy to relax and settle in for the ride.

By the time we move to the dining car and unpack our picnic, we’ve passed through the former coal mining town, crossed a 165-foot bridge over a yawning canyon, and heard a bunch more history from the conductor.

While Darcy is distracted with digging in the bag for a knife to cut an apple, I slide a small box from my pocket and set it in front of her. She turns back, my Swiss army knife in hand, and I savor the look of surprise on her face. Her eyes flick to mine.

“What’s this?” she asks.

I shrug. “A leprechaun just dropped it off, you didn’t see him?”

She gives me a look. “No, I didn’t.”

Even though I know this the perfect moment for this, I’m still so nervous I could puke. “Open it,” I say, trying to keep my voice casual.

A look of seriousness captures her features as she picks up the box and pulls the ribbon free. She steals another look at me, and I memorize the soft curve of her cheeks, the way her hair falls forward, and the love in her eyes.

She pries open the box and those same eyes go wide. A gasp escapes her lips as she plucks the ring from the groove in the fabric.

“Brian!” she says, jumping up and rushing to my side of the table. I meet her halfway and she dives into my arms. “Oh, Brian,” she says softly.

I step back and look into her beautiful face and sense the colors around us swirl. I take the ring from her fingers and turn her hand so that I can slide the ring on. “Will you marry me, Darcy?”

“Oh my goodness, is he proposing?” someone’s voice cries out from behind me.

Darcy starts to laugh. The ring, a simple gold band with three small stones, is now fitted at the end of her finger.

Milt’s voice rings in my head:I appreciate you coming by to ask, but this decision is Darcy’s.

“Oh my, I think he is!” someone else says.

“Did she say yes?” another voice asks.

I look at Darcy, my heart full to bursting. We were meant to be together, this ring is really only a formality, but one I’m proud to have her wear. “What do you say, Darce?” I ask.

“Yes!” she says, her eyes tearing up.

I pull her into my arms and close my eyes. Inside, I’m all light and joy and freedom, as if having her in my life makes me not just happy, but a better person, a better version of myself than I could ever be without her.

Around us, people are clapping and cheering. I lean back and see she’s laughing. I start to laugh too.

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