I meant to say no. Knew that he intended to ask me. Knew I had no intentions of spending my life in this little dull town, the dull little wife of a dull little man whose best and only trait was kindness. I had my weeping rejection scripted and I was poised to deliver.
And then I saw it. We were on a little rowboat he had borrowed from his uncle. He had tied back the oars and we drifted pleasantly down the quiet little river, aimless and at rest. I let one hand hang off the edge of the skiff, just the tips of my fingers trailing in the cool silk of the water. There were three perfect white clouds above our heads, pinned like butterflies against the velvet sky. We came around a corner and he gave a shy little smile, like a boy about to present his mother with a hand-made macaroni heart, and he pointed, without a word. It was just a bend in the river, but the light played tricks with the landscape, and illuminated, like a torch straight from the heavens, a tiny patch of tree. It seemed to create rather than reflect the sunshine, so each delicate white-pink flower was alive with something akin to phosphorescence, that mystical light from the deep. Its bark was in shadow so it glowed almost black, and the light yellow-green leaves danced between the flowers like beaus at a ball, choosing the girl they wanted most to have on their arms.
I felt him stand, kneel in the boat beside me; knew he must have a ring though I could see nothing but the splendour in front of us. It beckoned me, though if I tried to touch it the illusion would shatter; this was as close as I could get to the miracle. He asked me then if I would be his wife; and how could I breathe anything but ‘yes’ with beauty still lit in my eyes?
Oh, I’m sure I’ll regret it tomorrow. Knew he was going to ask me, and knew I was going to say no. But a man who can see such beauty and know it for what it is must have secrets of his own beneath the surface; perhaps he too can glow with reflected sunlight, and become transformed, for a moment, entirely out from the ordinary.
Image courtesy of Hayley Mechelle Bouchard. Her work can be found at Little Cat Photography, with more information about Hayley on Our Contributors page.