Page 63 of The Curve
We walk outside into the bright summer day. There’s a breeze swaying the treetops, and the Tennessee sun dances on Atticus’s hair.
“What a glorious day,” I say.
He takes my hand and kisses it as we walk across the lawn.
“You’re glorious.”
“Kiss me then.”
He stops and pulls my body to him. Cradling my head in his palm, he gives me a kiss for the ages. It’s tender and filled with wordless messages of love. When our lips part he looks into my eyes. I swear I can see the future. Our future.
“Wow. What did I do to deserve that?”
He starts walking. “You existed.”
Something is telling me not to ask questions right now. It seems like a time to pay attention to the details. The song of the birds, the smell of the flowering Dogwoods, the feel of the sun on my skin. My greater self, the one who always knows more than I do, is telling me to slow down. Take it all in. Something wonderful is about to happen.
We move into the thicket of trees that border the forest. The light changes dramatically. He leads and I follow.
“That first time I saw you my heart said, ‘that’s the one.’ he says.
He turns around and faces me.
“It did?” I know my response sounds stupid, but it’s just that he shocked me.
“Yes. And that first time we were together, here with the fireflies, I realized I’d been waiting for you all my life.”
The tears are beginning to well in my eyes.
Weaving through the trees, we come to the clearing where our first bed stood. But now a beautiful garden of shade plants surrounds a sapling Pecan tree. And an iron signpost marks the spot. My hand goes to my mouth and I cover any utterance that might escape. I read the sign.
Here marks the sacred spot Charlotte and Atticus fell in love.
“Oh, Atticus. This is so romantic.”
He’s leaning against a thick truck of a tree that stands closest to the garden. His hands are in his pockets and he looks nervous. He’s biting his lip.
“Let me do that,” I say coming around the circle of stones and sea glass that surround the plantings. He opens his arms and takes me in his embrace. My eyes close as he kisses my neck and holds me close.
“Are your eyes closed?” He asks.
“Yes. I’m enjoying your kisses. I’ve got the chills.”
“I think you should open them, Charlotte.”
My eyes open. There, carved on the tree, are two entwined hearts with our initials. In one is the word “Mine” and in the other “Yours”. And under the hearts are the words,Will you marry me?
The world spins in front of my eyes, then slows to a crawl. I feel every cell of my body reacting and rising in a unanimous decision. My hand lifts to the carving and my fingers feel each word.
“Yes! Yes, I’ll marry you!”
I start kissing him. Pinning him to the tree and covering his face with a hundred more. He’s laughing now.
“Yes? Is that a definite yes? No processing?” he teases.
“My love. I can’t imagine life without you,” I say holding his face in my hands.
I look over his shoulder at the proposal. He slips down in front of me on one knee, taking something out of his pocket when he does. My breath quickens.
