Winter in Full Bloom (37 page)

And I would start now.

Next stop—I would head to one of the airline desks and see what happened to Marcus’s flight. He loved me, and I would choose to believe him. Just as I rose from my seat, determined to follow through with my plan, I saw the outline of a man, silhouetted by the light, who looked a lot like Marcus. When the light hit his face, I saw that smile of his—the kind of smile that gave the sun something to be envious about. Yes, it was Marcus, my Marcus. I walked and then ran toward him.

He let go of his luggage, dropped his carry-on backpack, and pulled me into an embrace. He gathered bunches of my hair into his hands and brought it around to frame my face just as he had done when he left. Then he kissed me so warmly I knew we’d surely drawn a crowd. I didn’t mind. Not one bit. In fact, let them bring out the confetti and celebrate with us. I savored his warmth, his kiss. All of Marcus Averill.

When we parted briefly, Marcus whispered, “I don’t want to ever be that far away from you again.”

“Just a heartbeat away?”

“That’s right.” He chuckled. “I really did miss you something fierce, just like I said I would.”

“Did you make lots of origami lilies?”

“A whole bouquet, and they were all in full bloom I might add. But they didn’t help me. They only made me miss you all the more.”

That made me smile.

“But I’m so sorry I’m late. My flight came in early, but a couple that I’d befriended on the flight had quite a frantic few minutes when they couldn’t find their four-year-old. So I helped them. All is well, but I’m so sorry I didn’t call or text. I should have.”

I smiled, taking him in. I should have known. “No worries.”

“So,” he asked, “you missed me then?”

“Something fierce.”

“Good. I knew you would.”

I chuckled. “And did you get your life wrapped up in Melbourne?”

“Yes. I love Australia, always will, but this is my home. You’re my home.” He grazed my cheek with his finger.

“By the way, I did what you suggested. I went to see the woman … the other woman. And we had quite a visit.”

“You did?” Marcus motioned to the bench. “Let me sit down for this.”

When we’d moved his luggage, and we were settled on the bench, Marcus asked, “So, what in the world did she say?”

“Quite a bit actually. Enough to give me the closure you’d prayed for.”

“That is good news.”

“And I’ve gone back to the piano. I know what I want to do now. I’m going to stay on at the oil company part-time, but I’d like to teach piano to children. What do you think?”

“I’ve never heard you play, but something tells me you’re wonderful, Love.”

“Oh, how I’ve missed you calling me by that name. I’ve missed your smile. Well, all of you.” I scooted closer to him. “Does this mean we’re no longer Leroy and Zelda?”

“Yes. We’ll be Marcus and Lily.”

“Okay, so you know that question you were hinting at during the awful rainstorm under the bridge?”

“How could I forget?”

I took his hands in mine. “Well, if you could hint at it again… this time, I think you might get the answer you were hoping for.”

He suddenly got all hushed on me.

I continued. “You know, I think it might go something like, ‘Will you marry me?’ Uh, this would be a good time to say something.” I caught his mischievous gaze. “Marcus?”

Marcus made me wait a
whole day before he would respond to my proposal of marriage, but since he’d taken me to Galveston I was fairly certain I knew what his answer would be.

The late autumn chill in the air didn’t stop us from rolling up our pant legs and strolling along the beach. After a while we settled ourselves on the sand, snuggled into each other’s arms, and watched the waves roll in and out like a pendulum swing. Mesmerizing. “That was dreadfully mean, you know,” I teased him, “to make me wait for your answer.”

“But I knew you’d forgive me.”

“Always so sure of yourself, Mr. Averill?”

“With you I am.” Marcus bundled my sweater around me and ran his finger along the curve of my cheek. “I wanted to do it right. I’m old-fashioned that way.
And
I didn’t want to share such a sanctified moment with a bunch of noisy, sweaty travelers.”

I laughed and glanced around. “So, how did you manage to keep the noisy, sweaty travelers at bay today?”

“Not sure. Maybe they can sense that we need a moment to ourselves.” Marcus kissed the tip of my nose. “And it could be because it’s cold out here.”

I grinned. “True.”

“Look at those waves.”

“Yes?”

“I’ve always been fascinated by waves. Did you know that when two ocean waves collide they influence each other, but once they pass over each other they go on about their business as if they’d never met?”

“Well, that’s a sad thing to think about.”

“Isn’t it? And not very romantic. But I’m not quite finished. In some cases the waves do come back. They are forever changed.”

“And when is that?”

“Well, in one case, it’s the waves in a bathtub.”

“So, are you saying our love is like the water splashing around in a bathtub?”

“Yes, but in other ways it’s like the ocean. Deep, beautiful, and full of surprises.”

“Oh, I like that part. You’re definitely warming up now.”

Marcus’s grin looked full of mischief. What was he up to?

“Do you remember a book I did a long time ago called
Pockets
?”

“I know it made me misty every time I read it. It was about a boy named Sebastian Pepper.”

“Good memory.”

“And let’s see … Sebastian would dump out his pockets into his toy box every night with all his treasures. Then as he would finger each memento we would learn about his daily adventures along with his hurts and secrets and joys. It was a brilliant idea. What made you think to write something like that?”

“Because that boy was me.”

I smiled.

Marcus leaned back and pulled out everything in his pocket, making a little pile of treasures on the sand.

I chuckled. “So, what do you collect?”

Marcus motioned for me to sort through the heap. “Be my guest.”

Among the items were acorns, lip balm, and seashells. I pulled out the two mollusk shells from the stack. “There are two here. Does that have significance?”

“Everything has significance.” He lifted up the two shells. “See, if you place the two halves together like this … they make a home.” Marcus fitted the two shells together. “The way God intended.”

I rested my head on his shoulder. “That’s as sweet as the marshmallows I used to eat. But what else do we have here?” I eased away and fingered through the mound again. Something shiny winked at me from within the tiny mountain of treasures. “What do I see?” I knew immediately what Marcus was up to, the darling rascal.

He watched me intently. “You tell me.”

I moved a few items, uncovering the shimmer. A diamond ring flashed in the afternoon sunlight.

Marcus picked up a penny from the heap and placed it next to the ring. “Penny for your thoughts.”

I turned the ring in the light. “My thoughts are … this ring is gorgeous and unique, just like you.”

“Well said.”

I laughed.

“So, will you, Lily Winter, be my wife?”

“I think I’ll have to.”

“And why is that?” he asked. “I want details. Metaphors.”

“But you’re the word person.”

“Come on. Give it a whirl.”

“Okay.” I pursed my lips, but it didn’t help my brain. “Let’s see. Because you, Marcus Averill, are the sunlight shimmer on my seashell.”

“Good alliteration.”

“Thank you, but I’m not finished. Let’s see. You’re the moonlight … on my wave. And I don’t want to live without that light. Not ever.”

“I’m impressed.”

“Thanks.”

Marcus took the ring and slipped it on my finger.

“Lovely.” I turned my hand. “I promise I’ll never tire of gazing at it.”

“I’m glad you love it.”

“I do.” The salty surf foamed up around our feet, tickling our toes. For a moment I turned my attention to the edge of the earth, where the sea touched the sky. “You know, on that first day we met … I wondered what was just beyond the horizon.”

“Obviously, there were very good things, just waiting for us.” Marcus lifted my chin so that our lips were a whisper apart. “And do you remember my reply that first day we met?”

“You said we’d just have to use our imaginations.”

“What a good idea,” he said.

Like birthday candles all aglow, my whole being did a little melting thing as women do when they know they’re about to be kissed by the man they love.

We did, of course. We kissed beneath the autumn sun, the circling gulls, and the heavens. And in the midst of our sweet alliance, I knew somewhere up there, God was surely smiling.

“
Lily’s veil looks a mite askew
. Don’t you think?” Camille turned her head this way and that, gazing at me from a distance with an eye for perfection.

“Yes, I think it is.” With Julie’s help, Mother lifted the tiara with the long trail of tulle and repositioned it on my hair.

“That vintage gown and tiara make you look like a princess, Momma,” Julie said.

“See? I have a superb taste in gowns, don’t I?” Mother donned a smug grin. “Maybe I should have been a wedding planner.”

“It’s never too late, Mother. But I would have been happy in a clown costume as long as I get to take home the prize.”

We all laughed.

As if on cue, the four of us turned to face the mirror. What a sight that was. Three generations of Grays—smiling, laughing, and attached to each other like brand-new strips of Velcro. I looked upward.
Oh, Lord, You really are good to me.

Yes, many times through the years I’d walked away from life, too afraid to journey into the hidden places. But once inside, I found there were still mysteries to unfold, secrets to marvel over—some wonderful and some not so wonderful—but there was always love to be discovered.

While reflecting over my long journey, Mother did something I could only have imagined in a dream. She cradled my face in her hands and said, “You are one of my two precious mustard seeds, and because of you and your faith, we are all reunited. I am proud of you. And now you have been blessed with Marcus. You were wise enough to know that the Irish saying is true.
‘Níl aon leigheas ar an grá ach a phosadh.’
It means, ‘The only cure for love is marriage.’”

She smiled. “I will pray God’s love enfolds you, and that you and Marcus will know joy all of your days.” She kissed my cheek and then turned to Camille and to Julie, christening them with more words of affection.

When Mother concluded her tributes, we huddled amidst the gossamer tulle. I could feel it in my spirit—we four had become a special delight to the Almighty—we were a family in love.

Later when everyone in the chapel was seated and more than ready for a wedding, my mother offered her arm, since she was going to be the one to give me away. We walked up the aisle to the recorded sounds of The Highland Bagpipes. It had become one of my favorite instruments—right along with the guitar, and the flute, and the piano.

Spring had come and a good portion of it had been brought inside the chapel. Sprays and baskets of every blossom imaginable filled the sanctuary with a profusion of colors and scents. Some of the flowers arrived from a local florist, but the prettiest and biggest blooms—the white lilies—came from Mother’s solarium. I whispered to her, “Your lilies stole the show.”

“We only need one Lily to do that,” she whispered back.

I grinned. After giving Julie and Camille—my two bridesmaids—a wink, I took my place by Marcus’s side.

My groom gave me his signature smile and snuggled his hand into mine.

When the vows were repeated, the unity candle had been lit, and the holy seal of matrimony was upon us, the pastor said an Irish blessing over us.

“May God be with you and bless you.

May you see your children’s children.

May you be poor in misfortunes and rich in blessings.