Page 87 of New River Gorge(ous)
I laugh. This man who was so grumpy at first is unexpectedly wonderful.
Beck reaches into his back jeans pocket and extracts an envelope. The nameThe Future Mrs. Brooke Whistleris on it, but it’s not in Beck’s handwriting. It’s in Meemaw’s.
Meemaw
Dear Brooke,
I know I do things backward sometimes, but when you’ve lived as long as I have, you’ll find backward, forward, sideways—it doesn’t matter as long as you’re doing what you should.
I’ve had this ring since my own mother passed. I saw her wear it every day, and even though things were not easy, this ring was a constant in our lives. The story of how it came to her is a long one, but you need to know that it’s been passed down from generations. Still, when Mom passed and the ring was my own, it never felt like mine. So I prayed about it. And even though you were a little girl, I found that this was your ring, and I got to keep it safe for you.
Brooke, if God can make even the rocks this beautiful, then why are you worried? He’ll make your life far more beautiful than you can imagine.
Hard times, pain, and suffering are all true. But so is beauty, truth, and goodness. You’ll find that in your marriage.
I am so proud of you.
Love,
Meemaw
48
Brooke
I’m engaged. To the most wonderful man I’ve ever met. I can’t even think in complete sentences anymore because every few words, I remember something about Beck and get distracted. Being in love is like if all the light and goodness in the world was amplified tenfold. While I loved him before he proposed, he continues to surprise and delight me.
The light of the morning sun reflects on the ruby engagement ring as I sit on the porch swing and wait for Beck. I adjust the crochet blanket over my lap to ward off the chill.
The low hum of an engine coming down the road kicks my heart into gear, and when Beck’s truck turns into the driveway, butterflies erupt in my stomach. Still, that’s nothing compared to what my heart does when he gets out of the truck and hurries up the walkway to me.
Beck leans down and plants a gentle kiss on my lips. “Good morning,” he whispers before sitting next to me and wrapping his arm around me. I lean into his warmth, his familiar gingerscent, and the peace that comes from being in his arms. “What are you doing today?”
“Getting a start on my Pinterest board wedding planning.” I smile up at him. Instead of smiling back, he shifts and sets his jaw in a firm line. My hand flies to my hair as I ask, “Is there something wrong?”
Beck gently guides my hand away from my hair. “You have trichotillomania, don’t you?”
I bob my head and don’t meet his eyes because it’s weird and I’m ashamed of it.
He tips my head up. “Don’t do that, Brooke.”
“I don’t mean to,” I start to say, but he interrupts me and squeezes both my hands.
“No, I meant, don’t be ashamed of it. You’re beautiful, and so strong and courageous. It’s not easy to live with that condition.”
“It’s why I have pink hair,” I whisper. “If I spend money on it, then I don’twantto pull it out as much. I just do it now when I’m anxious.”
Beck nods, his brown eyes thoughtful and understanding. “I wanted to ask you about something for the wedding. And it needs to be both of our decision, but…” He almost looks shy as he looks at me. “I was wondering if we could get married in a Catholic Church?” He takes a moment to look away before speaking again. “It’s just that—I am Catholic, and my faith is important to me. It wasn’t something Addie was willing to consider, so we were at the Baptist church, and I just … I don’t want to give up my faith. But, if you want to get married at your church back home, could we make sure there’s a Catholic priest there?”
I hear the sincerity in his voice, the pain that Addie caused, and I won’t do that to Beck. Truthfully, I haven’t been terribly invested in my faith lately. I’ve read my Bible a little bit more, but there’s this sense of something missing.
“They make us wait and do marriage class stuff, right?” I ask, because I remember Connor and Paige’s wedding and how they had to wait.
“Yeah, six months.”
That decides it for me. I can give Beck a gift right now: I can prove that I’m not like Addie.
“I don’t want to get married in Marquette in March,” I say. “It’s cold, snowy, and icy, and there could be a blizzard, and then we’d have to wait even longer. I want to get married here, to you, at whatever church you want.”
