I woke with a jump back in my bed and in my pajamas. It was morning. Still pretty early; the clock on the wall said 6:15. My eyelids were droopy and my head felt heavier than the rest of my body, but I had struggled with sleep throughout the night and I knew it was a lost cause. Jake's voice haunted me in my sleep, and his kiss with Becky was a nightmare. I climbed out of bed and started walking downstairs. The smell of bacon and eggs wafted through the house, and once I reached the kitchen I saw Margie was busily making breakfast. She looked up when I walked in and smiled.
“You’re up early,” she said.
“Mhm,” I yawned.
“Couldn’t sleep?”
“Not a wink.”
“There’s coffee ready if you want some.”
“Oh, I do,” I said emphatically. I got up and poured myself a cup, and took some milk from the refrigerator and sugar from the cupboard. I added just enough of both to my coffee and sat down for a sip. As I put the warm mug to my lips I thought of what Jake was doing. Getting up and ready for work? Eating breakfast? I wondered what he liked for breakfast. I wondered how he liked his coffee, if he even liked it. Did he have trouble sleeping too? Was he thinking about me?
Or…someone else?
“Margie, did Ronald start working for John Miller yet?” I asked.
“Sure did,” Margie replied.
“What’s he like?”
“Ronald said he’s very kind.”
“What about Becky? Did he say anything about her?”
“He said she’s…very quiet. She likes to watch things. She’ll sit outside watching the animals or watch cars go by--”
“Did he notice if John and Becky look…happy together?”
“He never mentioned it.”
“Oh.” I peered into my mug.
“Is there any reason in particular you’re worried about their marriage?”
“Um…well, I went to Jake’s house yesterday…and…Becky kissed him.”
“And you’re worried they’re a little more than friends?”
“Well, after what Mrs. Fickley said the neighbors say about her…”
“The neighbors seem to know a lot, don’t they? Just the other day I was out watering the garden plants and could hear some women next door talking about how Ronald gets drunk and beats me every night, and I had no idea! I am outraged! I thought he loved me more than that!” She slapped the spatula on the stove with mock indignation, and continued flipping eggs and pancakes. “Oh, and, I thought you should know, Mary, he’s fixing to get fresh with you as well. Be on your guard,” Margie said, winking at me.
I giggled, grateful that Margie was trying to cheer me up but part of me still felt the sting of jealousy. I wanted to believe Margie, but I couldn’t get the sight of Becky kissing Jake out of my head. They must have been very close, but a kiss? A hug would work just as well. Why not a hug? The thought was driving me mad. I took another sip of coffee and heard strong footfalls on the stairs and shuffling feet approach the dining room.
“Margaret, bring the paper inside,” Albert said. I frowned slightly. Margie was already busy making breakfast and Albert could get the paper himself. Margie of course didn’t argue, and she stepped away from the stove to grab the newspaper from outside. Albert sat down next to me and took my hand.
“Just think, my dear, in only 2 weeks we’ll be man and wife. And I’ll have the woman of my dreams always at my side,” I tried to smile, but when I couldn’t bring myself to a full grin I lifted the mug to my lips and took another sip of coffee. Albert brushed my hair from my face. His touch didn’t feel like anything.
“Mary, we have to figure out what we will do with your hair. Why don’t you want to go to the beauty parlor and have them cut it for you? Give it some style. It will make you look more grown up,” Albert said. I clutched my free hand around my hair.
“No! I don’t want to cut my hair! I like it the way it is!” I said.
“All right, dear, we’ll talk about it later,” Albert said. Margie came back in with the newspaper, and Albert started reading it. Margie started fixing up our plates. From upstairs I could hear moaning, and I saw Mrs. Fickley hobble into the kitchen, hunched over in pain.
“Are you all right, Mother?” Albert asked. He didn’t look up from his paper.
“Oh, curse these old bones,” she moaned. “Margaret! Get my pills!” Margie went to the cupboard on the far end of the kitchen, where Mrs. Fickley kept her medicine, and grabbed one of the bottles of pills. She opened the bottle, poured out two pills, and walked over to Mrs. Fickley. Mrs. Fickley snatched the entire bottle from her hand, and some of the pills spilled on the floor. “Ugh! Pick those up!” she snapped. She took four pills while Margie picked the rest up from the floor. Mrs. Fickley sat in the chair next to me, gratuitously rubbing the back of her neck and flinching. Margie put the pills back in the bottle and handed it to Mrs. Fickley. She glared at Margie.
“My food?” she asked impatiently. Margie gave a nod and hurried to the stove to bring Mrs. Fickley’s plate over.
"Honestly, that girl is as dense as she is clumsy,” Mrs. Fickley scoffed to Albert.
“Mhm,” Albert said inattentively.
Mrs. Fickley and Albert kept eating and reading the paper, but my appetite had vanished. I poked my food with my fork, pushing it around so it looked like I was eating. I still couldn’t stop thinking about Becky and Jake, and whatever their relationship was. I decided I had to find out if the rumors were true or not. But who could help me? I couldn’t just keep sneaking out, because I knew my luck would change eventually. I couldn’t risk Margie getting in trouble either.
I thought about it for a moment.
Louise!
It was perfect. Louise was my best friend. Surely she could keep a secret like this for me. I set down my fork and put on my most innocent expression.
“Mrs. Fickley?”
“Yes, Mary?”
“Well I was wondering, since it isn’t a good idea for me to have dinner with the Millers, what if I went to Louise’s house for the day instead?” I said.
“Finally, you’re talking sense, Mary. Francine’s daughter is a good young lady. You’d never catch her doing naughty things like that trollop Becky Miller.”
“Never,” I said, hiding my excited grin behind my coffee mug.
“I promised your mother I would keep you out of trouble while they were away. She’ll be glad to know everything is ready for the wedding when she and your father get here tomorrow.”
“Tomorrow?” I asked. I had completely forgotten about when my parents would arrive.
“Yes, dear, tomorrow is the first of July. Your parents will be here in time for the holiday, and they’ll be staying here until the wedding.”
Normally I was excited when my parents returned from their vacations, but all I could think about was going to the Millers and seeing once and for all what relationship Jake had with Becky. I excused myself from the table and went upstairs to change. I searched through my closet for the perfect dress, wondering which one Jake would like. Most of my clothes were either pink or blue. My parents liked it when I dressed in pink, but I always liked blue better.
I chose my favorite baby blue dress.
Waiting for the right time to leave was the hard part. I had to make sure things didn’t look suspicious. Once again, I was excited by the whole idea of being sneaky. I figured 3:00 would give me plenty of time to convince Louise to take me to the Millers before their dinner. Three o'clock was also when Mrs. Swartz and several of Mrs. Fickley’s other friends came over to play bridge. I set my plan into action.
“Mrs. Swartz, would it be all right if I stayed at your cabin with Louise for a while?”
“Of course, dear. Do you need a ride?” she asked.
“Um…”
“Not necessary, Francine, dear,” Mrs. Fickley said. She took out her little bell and rang it, which to me made no sense, because Margie was in the same room dusting. Margie walked over anyway.
“Yes, Ma’am?” she said timidly.
“Margaret, go get Gerald for me!” Mrs. Fickley said. I cringed. Mrs. Fickley’s old chauffer Gerald Elias was just as prudish and unpleasant as she was, and for some reason was sweet on her. He came into the room like a walking skeleton and tipped his dusty old hat to her.
“What can I do for you, Madam?” he asked.
“Take Mary to Francine’s house please. And make sure there are no detours. We wouldn’t want her to get…lost along the way,” Mrs. Fickley said.
“Yes, Madam.”
Riding with Mr. Elias was uncomfortable in the best of times. He was always dead silent, and didn’t play the radio. I was glad when the Swartz summer cabin appeared and Mr. Elias pulled into the driveway. A car I didn’t recognize was already parked. I wondered if somebody else was already over, or the Swartz’s had a new car I hadn’t seen yet.
I walked into the cabin. “Hello? Louise?” I called. I walked farther inside and could hear floorboards creaking upstairs. I climbed up the stairs in the cabin and saw the door to Louise’s room was open slightly.
“Dick, what if it breaks?”
”It won’t, just relax.”
I pushed the door open.
“Louise!”
“Mary!” Louise gasped, covering herself with the blankets from the bed. Richard was so surprised that he fell out of the bed. I covered my face with my hands and ran downstairs as quickly as I could, my cheeks blazing red with shock and embarrassment. Louise soon came downstairs, dressed in her frilly pink bathrobe. I could barely look her in the eye.
“Please, Mary, don’t tell my parents about this!” she begged.
“Wha—you—were you—”
“Please!”
I couldn’t think of anything to say, so I just nodded. Louise threw her arms around me and hugged me tight.
“Oh, thank you, Mary! I know my mother would have a heart attack if she found out about this! If there’s anything I can do for you, just say so!”
“Well…”
Louise didn’t ask me why I wanted to go to the Miller’s house after Mrs. Fickley said I was not allowed to. I guess she thought since I was keeping her secret, she could keep mine. The car ride seemed very long, and the only words that were spoken were my instructions on where to go. Richard concentrated on the road, his face and ears still bright red. Louise wrung her hands and kept her eyes down. I was relieved when I saw a large white house amidst farmland…and excited when I caught sight of a dusty red Ford.
“Do you need to be picked up?” Louise asked.
“No…no I can manage,” I said.
“A-all right,” Louise said. “Goodbye, Mary.”
The first thing I noticed when I came to the Miller’s house was all the sunflowers. Rows and rows of them, and they were so beautiful. Along with the sunflowers the garden had vegetables: cabbage in one row, cucumbers in another, beans, peas, and even some squash. Past the garden was a small pond with white ducks swimming and waddling, and scattered around the yard were chickens. I had never been to a farm before. My mother always thought they were dirty and smelled bad. There was dirt…and smell, but this farm was like a painting.
Becky was stepping daintily in between the rows of vegetables in the garden, watering them. She wore a simple housecleaning dress, and I walked over to her. She looked up as I got close.
“Hello, Mary,” she said.
“Hi, sorry I came early. I was having some trouble with getting a ride,” I said.
“It’s not a problem. I’m glad you could come.”
“Jake is here too?” I asked hopefully.
“Yes. He and Ronald are in the barn fixing a shelf that fell. Come with me.”
Becky and I walked over to the barn, and I tried to figure out just how I was going to ask her if she had any romantic feelings about Jake without sounding rude. Needless to say, I couldn’t think of a polite way to ask. All I could think of was small talk.
“The flowers are very pretty,” I said. “I’ve never seen real sunflowers before.”
“I love them. John’s mother did, too.”
“Is she here?”
“She passed away years ago.”
“Oh, I’m sorry.”
“I never knew her, but…with the flowers around…I kind of feel like I can know a little bit about her.”
“How did you and John meet?”
Becky paused for a moment.
“It’s a long story. I guess you could say we were destined to be together.”
“You must be very happy with him.”
“I am. I’ve never been able to get very close to people before. But John…he’s my best friend.”
It seemed a little strange to me that Becky would call her own husband “her best friend.” It made me worry. I kept following Becky and we reached the big yellow barn out back near the fields. Ronald and Jake were inside, setting the shelf up on the wall. Ronald was up on a ladder using the hammer and nails, and Jake was standing on the ground surveying his work.
“That’s not straight,” Jake said.
“It is too straight,” Ronald replied.
“No, it looks crooked.”
“Maybe your head is crooked.”
I giggled. Jake turned his head towards me, and waved.
“Hi, Mary, you’re here early,” he said.
“Oh, um, I…wasn’t sure if I could get a ride here later,” I said. I looked at Ronald and waved. “Hello, Ronald!”
“Hello, Mary,” Ronald said.
“I’m going to finish watering the garden. Perhaps you two can talk for a bit,” Becky said. She gave a smile to Jake that made my jealousy flare up again. But my anger quickly cooled when Jake smiled at me. I wrapped my hand around his elbow and we walked around the Miller’s yard.
“You look really pretty today.”
“Thank you,” I said, swiveling my dress.
“Blue is my favorite color.”
“Really? Mine too!”
“Well, ain’t that funny.”
“What’s your favorite food?”
Jake rolled his eyes up and puckered his lips. “Hmm…I would have to say…cherry cobbler. You?”
“Oh, pancakes topped with fresh berries.”
“Ah, a breakfast lover.”
“Most important meal of the day!”
“Sure is.”
We walked past the garden again, and I saw John sitting on the fence next to Becky, who was still watering the plants. They were talking to each other but I couldn’t quite hear what they were saying. Suddenly, John grabbed Becky and lifted her in the air, and I could hear them both laughing. The sound of their laughter made all my fears go away. I began to suspect that what the neighbors had said wasn’t true at all. I could see their marriage was something precious, and they loved each other very much.
“Those two. They’re like teenagers,” Jake chuckled.
“I think it’s sweet,” I said.
“Yeah, it is pretty sweet.”
It was entirely different from my relationship with Albert, but I had no inkling as to why. Becky leaned against John as they walked back to the house together. And I had never seen a look in a man’s eyes that was like John’s. His gaze was deep and tender when he looked at his wife, like she was the only woman he could see in the whole world. I felt jealous again, but this time, jealous of the way he looked at her and wishing that someone would look at me the same way. John called out “Come on, Jake!” and we walked toward their house together.
The inside of the Miller’s house was quaint and friendly. Their living room had a fireplace, a bookshelf, a radio, and a bunch of sofas and chairs that looked very cozy. It was less cluttered than Jake’s house, but not as fancy as Albert’s. Across the walls were several paintings: A butterfly, cute little ducklings, and beautiful flowers.
“What gorgeous paintings. Where did you buy them?” I asked.
“Didn’t buy them,” John replied. “Becky painted them herself.”
“You…you did?” I looked at Becky. She smiled and nodded. “Oh, that’s amazing! I wish I could paint like that!” I exclaimed.
“Thank you,” Becky murmured. I kept looking at the pictures. Along with the paintings, some photos hung on the wall. I looked at the row of photos. I saw a a wedding picture of John and Becky, one of a boy holding a fish, a young man in an army uniform, a picture of a family with two boys, and another picture of the same couple smiling and embracing.
"My father and mother…that’s their wedding picture,” John said, gesturing to the photo.
“Who’s that?” I asked, pointing at the young man in the army uniform.
“That’s my brother, Simon,” John said.
I was at first afraid to ask more, considering what happened when I asked about Matthew Thompson, but Jake gave me a little smile and nod as if to say “John’s brother is okay.”
“He’s in Texas right now getting some physical therapy,” John continued.
“For what?” I asked.
“Well, during the war, he was hit with some shrapnel, and it damaged his spinal cord so he couldn’t walk. A few months ago he got a letter in the mail from a doctor in Houston who was doing a study on paralysis from trauma. That doctor wants to help Simon walk again.”
“Oh, that’s great!”
“So, is there any update on Charlie?” Jake asked.
“Who’s Charlie?” I asked.
“The doctor’s assistant,” John replied to me.
“The very testy doctor’s assistant,” Jake added.
“Well, last we talked Simon said that Charlie ‘has a soul, or something like one.’ I guess they’re getting along better,” John said. “Oh, Mary, come with me, I’d like you to meet my father.”
I followed John out back and we walked around the yard looking for his father.
“Dad?” John called.
“Over here!” a man’s voice replied. We walked past a huge oak tree and I saw an older man pounding a nail into a clothesline. John sighed heavily and walked to the man.
“Light activity, Dad,” John said.
“This is light,” Cade said, holding up the hammer. “Only weighs a few pounds.”
John scowled. “I told you I would take care of that clothesline.”
“I can’t just sit around the house all day,” his father continued.
“Well, you have to. You can’t be on your feet so much.”
“Agh, this bum ticker…but I’m still here so I guess I shouldn’t be complainin’,” John’s father said. He looked at me and smiled. “And who do we have here?”
“Hi, I’m Mary. Mary Ellen Baker,” I said.
“Cade Miller, miss. Pleasure to meet you. Will you be joining us for dinner?”
“Of course!”
A honking horn made me jump, and I turned and saw a blue coupe pulling into the Miller’s driveway. John smiled and walked over to the car, and I followed him to see who else had arrived. I was surprised to see Babs, the nice brown-haired woman I met at the market get out of the car with a skinny young man with shaggy hair.
“Hi, Johnny,” Babs said.
“Well, we’re not the first ones here for once!” the young man said when he saw me.
“Hi, Babs! I didn’t know you were coming!” I said.
“Good to see you again, baby,” Babs said. “You’re um…”
“Mary.”
“Mary! Of course, I remember. You were at the market.”
“I’m glad to see you again too. I wanted to apologize for what Mrs. Fickley said.”
“Oh, no worries, baby. That kind of thing I just let slide off my back. Whoosh.” Babs made a fluid motion with her hands, and I smiled. “This is my husband, Donnie.”
Donnie reached out his hand, and I shook it. “Solid, baby,” he crooned. I didn’t really know what that meant, but it sounded nice. Donnie clapped his hands together.
“Okay, dinner, I’m thinking fried chicken, mashed potatoes, do you guys have all that?” Donnie said.
“We should,” John said.
“Great, time to get to work,” Donnie said.
“You’re going to help cook?” I asked.
“Sure am. I know it’s like, against the law for men to step into a kitchen intending to do something other than eating, but hey, I gotta fight the system somehow! My passion happens to be cooking,” Donnie said.
“Donnie even made his specialty. Irish Crème truffles!” Babs said. Donnie pulled a tray out of the car and presented it with flamboyance.
“Do you mind if I help? I love cooking,” I said.
“If you can keep up,” Donnie said.
Donnie and I went back into the Miller’s house and into their kitchen, where Becky was already working on peeling the potatoes. Next to her was the chicken, some fresh corn, lettuce, tomatoes, carrots, all sorts of things for a salad. Bowls and utensils were all lined up in a neat, tidy row. Donnie frowned and shook his head.
"No, no, this is all wrong. Where’s the tunes?” Donnie asked. Becky looked up at the window and turned on a small radio that sat on the sill. Donnie fiddled with the antenna until a radio station came in. He turned the volume up very loud.
I won’t dance
Don’t ask me
I won’t dance, madame with you
Donnie started to sing along, shuffling his feet as he rolled the chicken in the flour, walking backwards following the beat as he moved around the kitchen.
“My heart won’t let my feet do things they should do…you know what… Becky, you’re lovely…you know what, Mary, you’re so lovely!”
I couldn’t do much besides laugh.
“Ladies, care to dance?” Donnie asked. Becky smiled and gently swayed with the music, but I tapped my feet and moved across the floor like Donnie did. “That’s it, that’s it! Ring-a-ding-ding!” he cheered at me.
“For heaven rest us, I am not asbestos!” I sang along.
“Ah, Mary, you’re a blast!” Donnie said.
“Why thank you,” I grinned.
Donnie worked on the chicken while Becky worked on peeling the potatoes and putting the corn in the boiling pot. I made the salad, adding in just the right amount of dressing and for the perfect flavor. Before I knew it the food was finished. I was disappointed that the fun was over, but it worked up my appetite. Becky turned the volume down on the radio and pulled the corn out of the pot. Donnie started putting the fried chicken on a large plate. The table didn’t look like it was big enough for everyone.
"Hm, where will everyone sit?” I asked.
“Outside,” Becky said.
I glanced out the window and saw two big picnic tables. John’s father was already sitting down, and the others were starting to gather around. I took the salad bowl. The back door opened, and Jake came inside the house.
“You need some help?” he asked.
“Hold the door, will ya?” Donnie asked. Jake held the door open while he and Becky walked outside with the food. I followed behind them, smiling at Jake. My elbow brushed up against him as I walked out the door.
“Sorry,” I said.
“About what?” Jake murmured.
I blushed and looked down at the bowl. We walked over to the table, and the only two open seats left were right next to each other.
So I sat next to Jake.
“How did you like cooking with Donnie, baby?” Babs asked me.
“Oh, it was a lot of fun!” I said.
“Mary’s got style in the kitchen, that’s for sure,” Donnie said. “So, Mary, you think it’s strange to meet a guy who cooks his own food?”
“Maybe a little,” I said.
“Hey, I cook my own food,” Jake said.
“And it’s a wonder you’re still alive,” Donnie retorted. Everyone but Jake laughed for a moment, then he joined in.
“I must say, I’m enjoying this dinner a lot more than that dinner I had with Albert’s new partners,” I said. “Mr. Moore and Mr. Ellis were—”
“Moore? Edwin Moore?” John asked icily.
“I don’t know his first name. Why?” I asked. The table quickly became quiet.
“John…” Becky murmured. She put her hand on her husband’s. He looked at her for a moment, then hung his head and stared at his plate.
“It’s nothing,” he said.
An awkward silence fell over the table as we ate. I wasn’t sure why John was so upset when I mentioned Mr. Moore, but it must have been very serious. The silence fortunately didn’t last long, because Ronald walked over from the barn carrying a toolbox a little while later. John quickly stood up.
“Oh, Ronald, I’m sorry I forgot you were still here,” John said.
“Too much garden smooching,” Jake chuckled.
“It’s all right. I just wanted to let you know I’m done with the shelves," Ronald said.
“Great, thank you. Come sit down and have something to eat," John said.
Ronald looked surprised. “Y-you sure?”
“Yes, please, grab a plate.” John gave Ronald his seat on the table, and he sat next to Becky, who scooted over so he could sit. I tried to make sense of everything. Mrs. Fickley insisted that these were bad people. All the neighbors said so. But I didn’t see anything about them that was bad. The Millers invited me and Ronald into their home, treated us like people they’ve been friends with for years, and didn’t make him feel like he was different. The family was wonderful. Becky was not a tramp or crazy, and Babs was just as nice as she was when I met her at the market. It seemed that the neighbors who knew everything really knew nothing at all. They knew nothing about John. About Becky. About Babs.
And about Ronald.
If only he knew that there are some people who don’t think he’s the person everyone else says he is.
The rest of the dinner conversation was light and cheery, mostly. Cade asked about where I was from and why I was here in Sharon. The second question was harder to answer, but only because I was starting to wonder myself. I asked about John’s brother, which made Donnie a little tense, and talked a bit about Margie, which made Ronald relax. He seemed to become more and more comfortable with the Millers, and I did as well. I even started to hope that they and everyone else here could be my friends.
“Well, thank you for dinner. It was delicious,” Ronald said.
“Thank you for staying,” Becky said in her tender voice. “Please tell your wife she is also welcome here anytime.”
"Thank you.” Ronald got up from the table and started walking to his truck.
Then, it came to me, a stroke of brilliance.
“Ronald, wait,” I called. I got up from the table, completely forgetting to excuse myself, but I had an idea I didn’t want to lose. I pulled the beautiful gold ring Albert gave me off my finger. My engagement ring was more than enough for me, and I wanted to make Margie feel the same way I did. It was a symbol of Albert’s promise to me, and I wanted to share that very promise with her. Ronald walked back, and I placed the ring in his hand.
“What is this?”
“Give it to Margie. She deserves a beautiful ring.”
“Mary…I—I can’t accept this. I don’t want handouts, I want to earn money to buy a ring for her.”
“Trust me, you’ve earned it, and so much more. The world just doesn’t see it that way. Please, take it. And don’t say it was from me.”
Ronald stared at me for the longest time, then looked down at the ring. A gentle smile spread across his face, and he took the ring from my hand. I opened my arms to hug him, and he finally was willing to hug me back.
“You know, I stopped believing in miracles like these a long time ago. Thank you, Mary.”
“A miracle?” I whispered. For some reason, my favorite line from A Doll’s House came to mind: “the most wonderful thing of all.” At that moment, I realized what that thing, what that miracle was. Love. True love, not the kind of love one has for a pretty dress or a favorite food, but real, honest, compassion and respect for another person. Love that is free of selfishness. Love that gives people the ability to stand on equal ground with each other.
Love that makes a husband and wife partners.
Best friends.
Love that gives people the chance to make friends with people they otherwise would never have even given a moment's time to.
Love that transcends all barriers and rules the world has that keeps people apart.
Read this until you understand.
You don’t have to agree.
But you must understand.
“That was very nice.”
I looked back and saw Babs and Donnie walking up to their car.
“You are something else, Mary,” Babs said with a smile. “Need a ride?”
I hopped in the car with Babs and Donnie and we headed back to the Fickley house. Once we pulled on the street, I picked it out in no time. I could see the white panels, white shutters, dark wood porch, the dozens upon dozens of perfectly trimmed rosebushes.
With the sun dipping into the horizon to the west, the view was breathtaking. It was all so beautiful and completely flawless. My engagement ring cast a sparkle, and I looked down at it. At myself. My fingernails, trimmed and manicured, my hands, soft and gentle, my dress, folding over me like flower petals, my face, painted with cosmetics, my birthmark hidden underneath concealer and powder, my hair, long and blonde, locks straight from a storybook. For the first time in my life, I hated how pretty I looked.
“Something wrong?” Babs asked.
“No, I’m fine. Thank you for the ride.”
Babs and Donnie let me out and I stood outside for a moment.
Thinking.
Am I just another decoration? I wondered. A doll? Something to be played with?
Something that can never be taken seriously?
“Mary? What are you doing out here?” Albert asked.
I snapped out of my thoughts. “Oh, um, I was having dinner at Louise’s house.”
“Ah, good. Why don’t you come inside? It’s getting a little chilly out.”
I paused. “Albert?”
“Yes, my flower?”
“Do you love me?”
“Of course I do.” He smiled and kissed my hand.
“But what do you love about me?
“You are the most beautiful woman I’ve ever laid eyes on.”
“Is that all?”
“Darling, you are my beautiful princess. Now, come.”
