Page 78 of Freak
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~oOo~
Twilight had come andgone, and Mel wasn’t back yet. Abigail wasn’t worried—the sun set early at the end of November, and she and Mel had texted a few times throughout the day, so she knew he was doing pretty well and had gotten good reports from at least two of his appointments. But she was curious. His last appointment of the day had been scheduled for three hours earlier, and she hadn’t heard from him since right before he was called back. It was with his nutritionist—losing his spleen and gall bladder meant some adjustments to his meat-and-potatoes diet—and Abigail didn’t expect the nutritionist to have any news that would undermine the good reports from Dr. Gladwell and the physical therapist. She did, however, expect Mel to do a fair amount of whining about the way his diet was permanently changed.
After reading the instructions he’d gotten in the hospital and doing some research of her own online for recipes and such, Abigail didn’t think the restrictions terribly restrictive. For the most part, they were about moderation. He could still have dairy, fatty foods, things like that—eventually, after he was really completely healed—but he’d have to do so carefully, in smaller quantities and with more awareness of where he was and when he’d taken his meds. Mel wasn’t an overeater, but he had a naturally high metabolism and ate what and when he wanted without thinking much about it. That was the main thing he’d have to change.
Even with a good report today, Mel wouldn’t becompletelyhealed for a few months. Right now, he was still on a quite strict diet, so Abigail was putting together a dinner of lentil and butternut squash soup, grilled herbed chicken breasts, and a fresh loaf of pumpernickel bread (dark breads and sourdough had less gluten, so he could eat a few bites). Six fruit pies—two cherry, two apple, and two cranberry—were cooling in the old pie safe; she’d make pecan and pumpkin tomorrow. She’d also make a cranberry parfait for Mel and anyone else who’d might be watching their gluten.
Bogie stood up from his post in front of the screen door—Mel had put the glass insert in after last week’s hard frost—and nosed the door open. As he pushed through onto the porch, Abigail heard the rumble of tires on gravel and the chug of Mel’s truck’s engine. She wiped her hands on her apron and followed Mitch onto the porch. Ariadne and Lilith didn’t bother to join them; once Jack Frost started biting the air, the girls opted to be indoor kitties.
Waiting on the porch, she heard him park and slam the truck door closed. When he came around the corner of the house, her grin met his. Oh, he was handsome. She hoped there would never come a day, no matter how long their love or their lives lasted, when the sight of him didn’t steal her breath.
“Hey there, beautiful,” he called as he made his way to the porch. Abigail went to the top of the steps and threw her arms around him as soon as she could get hold of him.
As it always did, time slowed when Mel wrapped his arms around her. They stood there, him a step down so he was only an inch or two taller, wound together like a braid, and they both, as one, relaxed. Abigail felt her heart slow even as each of its beats struck hard against her ribs.Thiswas how the right love completed a person, how Mel completed her, without any lack in her being. Because he made her more.
Because they made each other more.
“God, Abs,” he muttered into her hair. “God.”
She understood everything he meant in so few words.
“Hey there, handsome,” she whispered against his cheek, then leaned back to meet his eyes again. “I missed you today. Everything went well?”
“Except I can’t have your fried chicken again until springtime, yeah, everything went great. Two more weeks until I can get back on the bike, no running marathons until next summer”—his grin broke wide and sly—“but that wasn’t on the agenda anyway. Otherwise, I’m cleared to do what I want.”
Sparks swirled through Abigail, moving toward and congregating in her belly. She slipped her hands into his hair. “Anything you want?”
His eyebrows canted upward and his smile slipped to one side. “Yes ma’am—and I’ve been thinking about almost nothing else all day.”
Dinner was almost ready. The soup was simmering, the chicken breasts were staying warm in the oven, the bread was wrapped in a tea towel and sitting on the warming stone. But Abigail could see abandoning it all and pulling Mel upstairs right now.
She was ready to suggest exactly that when he pulled back a little and said, “But there was one thing I was thinking about today that wasn’t getting’ you naked. C’mere.”
With that, he pulled her to the old glider that sat before the kitchen window and urged her to sit.
Then Melvin Lind, this wonderful man, this new marvel in her life, did something magical.
He dropped to one knee before her. And withdrew a small, polished wood cube from his jacket pocket. It was the size and shape of a ring box, with a rose etched into the top of the hinged lid.
“Mel!” she breathed, stunned, her eyes already swamped with tears.
He smiled up at her—not his usual wry smirk, nor his common affable grin. This smile was small and vulnerable as a prayer.
“We haven’t done a lot of talkin’ about the future, I know. Feels like the present is too loud lately, takin’ up more than its share. But I’ve been thinkin’ about what comes next. There’s sure to be hard times up ahead, just like there were behind us, just like there’s hard stuff goin’ on right now. Knowing you, loving you, it’s taught me something I didn’t know I needed to learn. That love doesn’t have to be a burden. Caring about somebody else, feeling responsible for ‘em, it can be ... I don’t know. Like ... “ He paused, turned to look out at the yard.
Abigail looked too. The night was turning crisp, and a frost would come before the dawn. Hazy halos swaddled the dusk-to-dawn lights, and her whirligigs and windchimes, the remnants of her gardens, the various bits and bobs dotting her beloved home were lit with a mystical glow.
“Loving you feels weightless, I guess is the way to say it. Not a burden at all. The opposite of it. Loving you makes everything else easier. Thinking about you, wanting to take care of you, it gives me something good here”—he hit his chest with his free hand. “Maybe most would say it’s too soon for me to be down on this knee, but it doesn’t feel too soon to me. I want this feeling for every day I’ve got left in this life, Abs. I wantyoufor every day I’ve got left in this life.”
He opened the little box. “I meant to wait until tomorrow, for your birthday, but then there you were—my girl, waiting for me, looking at me like I’m the best thing you see, and I couldn’t wait.”
Abgail’s tears broke free and began to slip down her cheeks.
She’d never seen a ring like it in her life, but it could not have been more perfect. White gold or platinum (or silver; she had trouble telling them apart and didn’t care one way or the other), delicate vines dotted with diamonds (or crystals; didn’t matter) wrapped around an unusual center stone. Almost clear, with a faint teal hue, it had lines of color running through it that looked like a tree.
“Oh, it’s so beautiful.”
