by ADAMS, J.
Seven
The following Saturday, Ingo and I go for a long drive up Millcreek Canyon and have a picnic. I love the beauty of the canyon. Some spots remind me of the Smoky Mountains in North Carolina because they are so green. The trees are lush, and a continuous breeze gently stirs the warm air. The temperature is comfortable, the weather perfect.
We have a wonderful time exploring and just being together. I have never been the adventurous type, but Ingo makes every experience exciting. With him, I feel like I can do anything. Since this is my first real picnic, he promises we will make a habit of it.
Later, with a big bowl of popcorn between us, we watch a movie with Jessica.
Contentment washes over me as I rest my head against Ingo's shoulder, his hand firmly clasping mine. The sadness I have felt for so long is slowly fading, and I am beginning to hope. Maybe I can finally let the past go. Each moment I spend with Ingo loosens another brick in the wall of self-preservation I have kept in place for so long.
Jessica glances over at me and smiles. She sees the changes taking place in me, and I feel how much she cares. She has wanted nothing but happiness for me, and I now realize why the desire she'd felt to have me come to Utah had been so strong. Like a butterfly spreading its wings for the first time, I am beginning to fly. And though I have no idea what is in my future, I am certain moving to Utah and meeting Ingo is a major part of it.
It has been weeks since Ingo arrived, and we have become so close, it is hard for us to be apart when I have to work. The only thing that keeps us going is the anticipation of spending our evenings together. I have never enjoyed being with someone so much, and I continually savor the innocence of it all.
Having slept in this morning, I awaken to find a large bouquet of red and white roses in a crystal vase on my bedside table. It is the first time I have ever received flowers. I inhale their sweet fragrance, then read the card.
Good morning, love. I missed you while I slept,
and I long to see your beautiful face.
Ingo
After gazing dreamily at the flowers another moment, I
quickly shower and change and do my hair, finishing the look with some light makeup. I am about to head down to the kitchen when Ingo appears at the door, carrying a breakfast tray.
“You are supposed to still be in bed,” he says, his eyes stern, but his voice is playful. I can tell he really is a little disappointed I am already up. “I guess I’ll have to be a little faster next time.”
“I’m sorry,” I say, raising on my tip-toes, kissing him. “I didn’t mean to spoil your surprise. Would you like me to change and get back in bed?” I smile sweetly, trying to make him laugh and succeed.
“No, that’s okay, but I would like you to get back on the bed so I can at least serve you your breakfast.”
I grin, immediately complying. When I am settled, Ingo places the tray over my lap.
“Thank you,” I say, marveling at his thoughtfulness. Just when I think there is nothing he can do to make me feel any more special, he surprises me by showering me with even more attention. “I’ve never had breakfast in bed before.”
“Well, then this will be the first of many times.” He presses a hand to my cheek. “I’m glad that I can be the one you experience so many firsts with. But before you start eating . . . there’s something I want to tell you.”
“Now wait just a minute. You bring me this amazing breakfast,” I say, gesturing to the tray, “and now you're telling me I have to wait to eat it? You’re talking to the woman with the mega appetite, remember? I can smell sizzling bacon a mile away. You’re seriously telling me I have to wait?”
He laughs. “Just for a minute, if you don’t mind.”
“Oh, I mind, but I guess I’ll wait.”
“I promise it will be worth it.” His smile fades slightly. “At least I think so. I hope so.”
“Okay.” Setting the tray aside, I give him my full attention. All playfulness is gone. This seems serious and I hope there isn't anything wrong.
“I need to say something to you. But I don’t want to frighten you. That is the very last thing I want to do.”
“Okay,” I repeat, trying to keep my voice neutral and not let my imagination run wild.
He watches me looking at him expectantly, emotion filling his expression.
“I love you, Cisely. So very much. I need you in my life, more than I have ever needed anything.”
I have never heard anything as beautiful as Ingo's declaration of love and it leaves me in awe. Placing my hand against his cheek, a tears slips unchecked down my own.
“I love you, too, Ingo. You’re the best thing that has ever happened to me.”
He kisses my palm. Pulling a small red box from his pocket, he places it in the same hand. “Will you marry me?”
My heartbeat speeds up a notch. Over the past weeks I have let myself dream of this moment, and now that it is here, I am speechless. I continue to stare at him, marveling at his proposal. Yet doubt immediately intrudes.
“Are you sure you want to marry me? I come with a lot of very heavy baggage. I know you are aware of that, but are you really sure?”
“I’ve never been surer of anything in my life, love.” He moves closer, taking my face in his hands. “You mean more to me than anything in this world. And as for the baggage, we can carry it together.”
Releasing a deep sigh, I allow happiness to move through me. Though I still feel unworthy of him, I can’t doubt his feelings. Love shines through his eyes, making me feel like Cinderella about to become a princess. “Nothing would make me happier than being your wife, Ingo.”
“Is that a yes?”
“It is.”
His eyes shine even brighter and a grin splits his handsome face, like he has just been handed the world’s greatest treasure, which astounds me a little–no, not just a little, a lot!
When did I become such a prize? How is it possible? Interrupting my mental musings, he presses his lips to mine, kissing me slowly, then drawing back, takes the ring from the box and places it on my finger.
“It’s beautiful,” I say, admiring the heart shaped solitaire.
“Just like you.”
Kissing him again, I touch my forehead to his. “I love you.”
“And I love you,” he whispers. “More than you could ever know. And Aunt Jessica will be very happy for us. I think she has wanted this all along.”
That’s an understatement. “I’m sure you’re right,” I agree, remembering how Jessica practically pushed me into spending that first day with Ingo. How grateful I am now that she did. “I guess it wouldn’t do to disappoint her.”
“No, I guess it wouldn’t.” He places the breakfast tray back over my lap. “All right, now you can eat. But hurry so we can share our news with Aunt Jessica.”
“No need to tell me twice.” I take a bit of the bacon, unable to stop smiling.
I can't believe this is happening–he just asked me to be his wife! I am going to be Mrs. Ingo Kelly! How did I win a man so amazing? What did I do to deserve such a blessing?
I don't know the answer to either question, but I intend to do everything I can to be worthy of him.
Eight
Jessica is about to leave for work when the phone rings. “Hello, I’m sorry to bother you, but I am trying to get in touch with Cisely Matthews.”
“Yes. Hold on just a minute and I’ll get her.”
Jessica appears in Cisely’s bedroom doorway and points to the phone. “It’s for you, dear.” Noticing wariness in Cisely's eyes as she turns to get the phone, Jessica leaves to give her some privacy, though she can't help being curious. The female caller has a prominent southern accent. Jessica can’t recall Cisely ever receiving a phone call from home. She silently prays everything is okay with her family.
“Cis, girl, this is your cousin, Velma.” At the sound of my cousin’s voice, I sit on the edge of the bed. In all the time I have been in Utah, no one in the family has
ever called me, nor have I expected them to. Even when I was in Asheville I received no contact from relatives unless I initiated it, which leads me to believe something is definitely wrong.
“How are you, Velma?” My cordial tone is forced. “I’m doing okay, girl, but I have some bad news. Your mama died last night.”
It takes a moment before the statement registers in my head. In stunned silence, I press a hand to my mouth as my cousin's words take hold in my mind.
Mama is gone! I can't believe it!
“Cisely, are you all right?”
“I’m fine,” I finally answer. “How did it happen?”
“The paramedics said she had a heart attack. Kenneth, a guy she started hanging out with last week, called them. By the time they got there it was too late. She was already gone. I found your number in her purse.”
Heaving a weary sigh, my gaze fixes on a hummingbird hovering just outside the window. So many thoughts drift through my mind concerning my mother’s life and what she went through, but none of them produce the tears I would expect to come. I briefly wonder if something is wrong with me. This was my mother, the woman I spent most of my life with, and right now I can’t even cry for her. We have never been close, but I should feel a little more grief. Surprisingly, there isn’t even a desire to cry.
Maybe I’m in shock.
Velma’s voice breaks through my thoughts. “Well, Mama told me to call you so you could take care of the funeral arrangements. You’re the only one who can since you are named the beneficiary on her life insurance policy.”
I realize it is my responsibility to take care of the arrangements, regardless of whether there is insurance or not, because I am Geneva’s only child, and I know from experience I can’t count on my mother’s family for anything.
“I’ll be there by tomorrow evening.”
“Okay, girl, I’ll tell Mama you’re coming.”
Hanging up, I numbly return my gaze to the window, staring at nothing in particular.
I can’t believe Mama is gone.
We haven’t really been a part of each others' lives for years, but it is still hard to imagine her not being in the world.
I guess all those years of drinking finally caught up with her. But she’s better off now. A soft knock draws my gaze to the door.
Ingo and Jessica enter. He sits down next to me and takes my hand. “What is it, love?”
“My mother passed away last night.”
Jessica gasps softly. “Oh, no! I’m so sorry.”
Ingo pulls me close. “So am I.”
“Thank you.”
“What can we do?” he asks.
“I need to go back and take care of the funeral arrangements. I guess I’m the beneficiary of her insurance policy.”
“Thank heavens she had insurance,” Jessica says, patting my free hand.
“I would like to try and get there by tomorrow evening. I have some money–”
“Don’t worry about that,” Ingo interrupts. “I’ll take care of everything.”
“I can’t let you do that.”
He puts up a hand, halting my protests. “Listen, love, you’re going to be my wife, which means everything I have is yours. Please let me do this.”
I am deeply touched by his need to take care of me, and I can’t imagine loving him more than I do at this moment. “Thank you.”
“You’re very welcome.”
Hesitance fills me, producing nervous knots in my stomach. Ingo squeezes my hand, sensing there is something more.
“What is it?”
Slow to answer, I look away as tears press. “Well, I know it’s a lot to ask, but . . .”
“But,” Ingo urges. When I don’t continue, he somehow guesses what I need but can't bring myself to ask. “Would you like me to come with you?”
Relieved that he has picked up on my feelings, I exhale deeply. I have always considered myself independent, never really needing anyone, but that isn’t true anymore. I need Ingo. I truly need him. I'm not strong enough to do this alone.
“Yes,” I finally answer.
Kissing my brow, he holds me close. “Nothing you ever ask could be too much. I want to be there for you, always.”
“And I’ll take care of your shifts at work,” Jessica adds.
I smile at the woman I have come to look to as a mother, as well as a dear friend. “You have both been so good to me. I don’t know what I would do without you.”
She squeezes my hand. “You’ll never have to find out.”
Ingo quickly springs into action and makes all the travel arrangements. Using his laptop, he purchases our tickets, reserves the hotel rooms and a rental car. I am grateful to him for taking care of all the details. He has thought of everything and I love being taken care of for the first time in my life.
I take a moment to remind him about how distant my family will be to me, but he assures me everything will be okay.
Ingo is so optimistic about life, and I wish some of his optimism would rub off on me, especially when it comes to my family. I need to be strong, and I pray that he will really be okay. I am used my family's ways, but I don’t want him hurt. That would make me feel worse than anything they could ever say to me.
Later in the evening as I sit nestled in Ingo's arms, my gratitude for the privilege of having him in my life is increased. I know we will have trials and life won't be perfect, but I'm determined to be the best wife I can possibly be and try to make our life together a happy one.
Nine
My Aunt Gladys lives in a historical part of town. Though many homes have been renovated, most of the houses in her neighborhood are old. Some of them have windows missing, while others look like a good stiff wind would knock them right over. Even when I lived in Asheville, I never ventured to this part of the city. Maybe if my aunt had been willing to have some kind of relationship with me, I might have braved it and gone. But just like everyone else, Gladys holds the mistakes of the past against me. Sure, I made a lot of choices I will regret for the rest of her life, and I'm not perfect. But then neither is Gladys.
A sense of dread enters me as we pull up in front of my aunt’s home, and I can't help wishing we were back at the hotel.
Ingo senses my feelings. “Hey,” he says, raising my hand to his lips. “I love you, and it’s going to be all right.”
Nodding, I close my eyes and take a deep breath, grateful he is with me. I couldn't do this without him. “I love you, too.” We share a brief kiss. Drawing back, I smile nervously and get out of the car. Unfortunately, my panic only increases as we head up the walk. My grip on Ingo’s hand tightens.
“I’m right here, love. It will be okay.”
“Please keep telling me that.”
He presses a kiss to my brow before knocking. “Are you ready?”
“As ready as I’ll ever be.” I lock a smile in place.
I watch the amused twitch of Ingo's jaw when Velma opens the door. The girl is completely flabbergasted upon seeing him with me and it definitely shows. If my nerves were a little more steady I really would laugh.
“Hey, Cis,” she finally says. “Ya’ll come on in.”
“Thank you.” I enter with Ingo close behind me.
Gladys is sitting in an old over-sized green chair smoking a cigarette. She almost chokes on it upon seeing Ingo. I am used to the smoke, having been raised around it, as well as having done my fair share of smoking in the past, but I hope it won’t be too much for Ingo. At the rate my aunt is puffing and exhaling, we will probably need to shower and have to make a trip to the laundromat after we leave.
“Ya’ll have a seat,” Gladys says, waving in the direction of the plastic-covered sofa. Growing up, I found plastic-covered furniture to be common in the homes of many people I knew. I never understood the concept or reasoning behind it, but I figured there must have been some hidden method behind the madness.
Once we sit down, I make the introductions. “Aunt Gladys, Velma, I would like you to mee
t my fiancee, Ingo.”
“It’s truly a pleasure to meet you,” Ingo says, standing with his hand outstretched.
What happens next is both expected and amusing. Gladys’ eyes literally bulge from her wide, round face and Velma’s mouth drops open. Shocked isn’t strong enough to describe their reactions, but I had expected as much. When it comes to showing tact, however, my family has definitely been left out of the loop.
Gladys doesn’t shake his hand but gives a small grunt, acknowledging him.
“O . . . kay,” Ingo mumbles under his breath. He extends his hand in Velma’s direction and she shakes it eagerly.
“Where are you from?” Gladys asks as he sits down again.
“I’m from Melbourne, Australia.”
She again grunts in acknowledgment.
“Okay,” comes his repeated mumble and I fight a laugh bubbling to the surface.
“How have you two been?” I ask, attempting to lighten the moment and hold some sort of conversation.
Velma glances to her mother, as if waiting for a response. “We’re doing fine,” she answers instead.
I wince inwardly as Gladys flings a disgusted look in her daughter's direction. Mashing her cigarette in a small ashtray on the arm of the chair, she hefts her large body up and pulls a key from her pocket.
“Here’s your mama’s extra key. You can go on over there now if you want. The insurance papers are on the table in the kitchen.”
Leaning forward, I take the key from her, not missing the greed in her voice. I know Gladys doesn’t think I should have the money and would like to lay claim on it herself. It seems all my family thinks about is what they can get. If you don’t have anything they want, you are of no use. If you can’t do for or give them anything they deem valuable, they don’t want anything to do with you. And I am sure after I go back to Utah, Gladys will descend on my mother's apartment like a vulture, taking everything she can get her hands on. Sadly, I have seen it happen before in my family. It is always expected with the death of a family member.
I shake my head sadly at her abrupt dismissal. So, I guess this is it, then. No how have you been? No it’s good to see you. Just here’s your mama’s key and you can go now. Glancing at Ingo to gauge his reaction, his face is unreadable. He squeezes my hand, though, and I know he understands my frustration. He shakes his head slightly at the situation and I draw comfort from that. I have traveled all this way, have been in my aunt's home for exactly one minute, and she has barely spoken to me. These people are supposed to be my family, but they don’t seem to care about me at all, or at least Gladys doesn’t. I sense Velma warming slightly, which helps a little.
