Page 51 of Indirect Attack
Jasmine was back to herself.
I was also simply grateful she was in my life. Though it had lasted a little more than twelve hours, the ordeal with the terrorists had put life into perspective even more than having Jasmine back in my life again. It put everything sharply into focus and order, making abundantly clear what was essential to my life and what wasn’t. And Jasmine and a future together were squarely at the top, as well as the next few spots.
I’d come so close to losing her, a thought that popped into my head whenever we were together again after an absence, and even then at random times. Sometimes it was while we were running errands, having lunch, or even in quiet moments when I was sketching, and she was reading a new academic article.
It would hit me how close I’d come to living life without Jasmine, particularly hard when we were in bed together after making love. The knowledge would come up even in those quiet moments when I’d catch her staring off into the distance, lost in thought, giving me time to simply stare at her face and try to memorize every beautiful curve and line and movement of expression.
It always took a moment to remind myself that she was there, real, safe in my arms, that I hadn’t lost her in that basement like my deepest fears wished me to believe.
And like I’d repeated to myself a million times since walking into that hotel lobby and seeing her for the first time in three years, I wasn’t ever going to let Jasmine go again.
“What are you thinking about?”
Jasmine’s question pulled me out of my thoughts. She was watching me, a small, affectionate smile on her face and brightening her eyes. As we pulled up at a red light, I gazed back for a long moment before pulling her hand to my lips and kissing her knuckles.
“Just how happy I am.”
My answer seemed to please Jasmine because her smile grew brighter, a faint, pleased blush coloring the center of her cheeks. As we drove, we snuck kisses at every stop, our hands never leaving each other’s.
Her attention out the window, Jasmine sat up straighter as I finally slowed the car and signaled the turn onto a side road. I saw her eyes narrow in puzzlement as we continued down the narrow lane lined with tall trees sprouting their first tiny leaves. I knew it would be beautiful in the summer, throwing the road below into shade. In the fall, the lane would be bright with color and even beautiful in the winter, the branches stark against low, gray clouds.
We passed a handful of older farmhouses, a few with kids playing in the yards, or at least evidence of kids. A few had animals visible in the back.
Finally, we reached a long dirt driveway, this one also tree-lined. I pulled up in front of the small farmhouse, a single-story with a wrap-around porch. The house was a little shabby, but I knew a little bit of elbow grease and work, it would look good as new. A small barn rose behind it, just visible over the roof.
“Where are we?” Suspicion colored Jasmine’s tone, and she was looking between me and the house with narrowed eyes. Something was going on in the field behind the house, off a distance, and I could see Jasmine’s searching gaze taking it in. I hoped it didn’t give too much away.
“You trust me?” I asked again, putting the car into park and turning off the engine before I got out.
“Aren’t we going out to dinner?” Jasmine asked as I opened her car door. “I thought maybe that’s where you were taking me.”
“We’ll have dinner later. Right now, there’s something I want to show you.”
Jasmine’s confusion was evident in her expression and the hesitancy with which she put her hand in mine as I helped her out of the car. I had to clear my throat to keep from chuckling and wiped away a smile with the back of my hand.
I led her up to the porch, the old boards squeaking under our feet, and opened the door.
“What are you doing?” Jasmine hissed, her hand suddenly stiff in mine. “This is someone’s house.”
“Relax. No one’s living here,” I replied with a glance over my shoulder.
The way I had to pull her along, I knew Jasmine was still reluctant. But she followed me, her hand growing less stiff as we went through the empty house. The front room was small but cozy, with a fireplace off to one side, the stones dark with old soot. The kitchen needed work but was at least bright and warm with light, and there were three bedrooms.
When Jasmine put her hand on the doorknob of the third, I stopped her, though. “That just goes down to the basement,” I told her smoothly.
She gave me a look but took her hand away, and I led her back outside.
Jasmine had grown silent during our tour, and I could tell she was wavering between confusion and some idea germinating in the back of her mind about what was going on. She remained silent as I stopped in the middle of the porch and turned to her, her jade-green eyes looking searchingly back into mine.
My pulse had picked up speed as we walked through the house, and now it felt like my heart was hammering so hard itwas trying to pound its way out of my chest. I had to swallow and take a deep breath before I could speak.
“Jasmine, I’ve been in love with you since we were kids. I didn’t know it, and I was an idiot for half the time, but I know it’s always been there. For a long time, I thought I’d lost you, but then I found you. And then I almost lost you again, which made one thing clear—I want nothing more than to spend the rest of my life with you. That’s why I bought this house, this land, and, a long time ago, this.”
Jasmine’s eyes had widened in disbelief the longer my speech had gone on, the words I’d rehearsed over and over in my head for weeks now. But her hand clutched convulsively around mine as I reached into my pocket, her gaze darting down and back to my face. It dropped down again as I drew out the small velvet box I’d retrieved from the bottom of the drawer in my childhood bedroom.
Her sharp intake of breath was the only thing I could hear as I knelt on one knee, blood rushing in my ears from trepidation as I opened the box and held it up.
“Jasmine, will you marry me?”
