Beyond Shattered Dreams: (Sequel to Just Below the Surface), page 22
I can’t help it.
And I sure couldn’t stop it if I tried.
I squeal.
“Anne,” he says, trying to keep a straight face. “Anne, I know things haven’t been easy. I don’t know what tomorrow holds. I do know that life is full of the unexpected, and it’s short. I don’t want to waste time. I want to be a husband to you. I want to love and cherish you like you deserve. I already love you. Now let me cherish you.”
Before I have time to cry, he goes on.
“I want to be a father to Posey. That little girl…”
Prescott gets a little choked up, and I feel tears spring to my eyes.
“That little girl,” he continues, “has gotten so deep into my heart that I’d have to dig a lot farther than I did that well to get her out again. I think she’s there to stay.”
I feel the tears fall now, and I don’t even care.
This is the most romantic proposal I’ve ever dreamed of.
Who said fairy tales didn’t exist?
* * *
The waiter brings our dessert—triple chocolate truffle cake—and I glance again at my ring. It’s a classic, princess-cut diamond. Prescott knows I’m a traditional romantic. I sigh.
I think I’ve cried my makeup off, but I don’t even care.
I sit here, trying to take it all in.
I think back to the beginning of the year. Prescott getting deployed. Billie finding out she was expecting. Prescott disappearing for a while, and the fear that followed. Finding a new friend in Ben. Seeing Prescott again after he lost his arm. Meeting Posey. Falling in love with Posey. Al and Mabel retiring. Billie giving birth. And now… and now I get to plan a wedding, legally adopt my daughter, and become a family with the only man I’ve ever fallen well and truly in love with.
And we know that all things work together for good to those that love God, to those who are called according to his purpose. —Romans 8:28
Fairy tale, indeed.
Epilogue
Two years later
“Posey, can you grab the diaper bag?” I look around for my coat.
“Already did, Mom; it’s right there.” Posey giggles.
I turn to where she’s gesturing and see the diaper bag by the front door.
“Oh my gosh,” I say, “I didn’t even see it.” I spin around, my eyes searching again.
“There’s your coat, on the back of the chair.”
I turn to the dining room and see my coat right where Posey said.
I walk over to her, lean down, and kiss her forehead. “What would I do without you, my girl?”
She shakes her head, laughing. “I don’t know!”
“All clean!”
I turn to see Prescott holding Phillip like an airplane as he walks toward us.
“Good,” I say in mock disgust, “’Cause he was a stinky boy!” I tickle Phillip’s tummy as they walk by, causing our six-month-old to squeal with laughter.
“What time does it start, again?” Prescott asks as he buckles Phillip into his carrier. He has become a pro at being a one-handed dad.
“7:15.”
Posey is in the kids’ church Christmas program. She gets to play the angel with “good tidings of great joy,” and she is absolutely over the moon about it.
“That’s a weird time,” Prescott says.
“Well, Carrie’s mom said that when you start at 7:15, people will have 7:00 in their head, and they’ll get there on time. Because when you actually schedule it at 7:00, they come in late.”
Prescott stops buckling the baby and turns to me. “I don’t know whether that’s genius or ridiculous.”
“Exactly.”
We’re used to Carrie’s mom’s eccentricities. She simultaneously has the best ideas and the worst ideas. It’s always a great dinner topic after parent meetings.
“Posey, do you have your—”
Posey holds up her costume before I can finish.
“I knew you would,” I say, grinning.
Posey keeps me on track more than I keep myself on track these days.
Ever since having Phillip, I’ve been, well, let’s just say a little more than scatterbrained. Posey is my calm in the storm.
I’m now a stay-at-home mom, which I love more than anything, but Ben occasionally calls me to do special projects that he thinks are “totally me.” They usually are, and I love the chance to get out and work at the store once in a while.
Prescott now works full time with George and has become, in George’s words, “the best one-armed mechanic in the county.” They have gotten so much business restoring old cars, and Prescott has learned so much that George hopes to pass on the business to him when he’s officially too old to work any longer.
Posey is thriving. After the adoption was finalized, she started calling Prescott and me Mom and Dad without hesitation. We both feel as though she’s been ours forever. I truly believe she’ll be an engineer or some kind of inventor. Her ability to find creative ways to do things just increases as she gets older. She’s a great big sister and has helped me so much—I honestly feel like I couldn’t do life without her. I know. That sounds dramatic. But that’s how special she’s become to me. I wouldn’t want to do life without her.
Watching her and Prescott together is the best. They have the best inside jokes with their disabilities, and they’re not afraid to laugh about it. In his journey, Posey has been a healing balm to Prescott.
I’m so in love with my husband. My husband! Squeal! It hasn’t always been easy these past two years, but God has seen us through so much. We’ve both grown in our relationship, parenthood, and our faith. Prescott occasionally thanks me for not giving up on him when he was at his worst. I always tell him to thank the Lord because He’s the one that never gave up on either of us. He’s the one that looked at our mess and decided He still wanted to bless us beyond what we could ask or think. He was the model for never giving up on someone.
As we walk out the door to see Posey’s play, I glance back at our new home.
New marriage. New daughter. New baby. New home.
And new dreams.
Now this is the fairy tale ending I was hoping for.
Lindsay A Marcum, Beyond Shattered Dreams: (Sequel to Just Below the Surface)
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And I sure couldn’t stop it if I tried.
I squeal.
“Anne,” he says, trying to keep a straight face. “Anne, I know things haven’t been easy. I don’t know what tomorrow holds. I do know that life is full of the unexpected, and it’s short. I don’t want to waste time. I want to be a husband to you. I want to love and cherish you like you deserve. I already love you. Now let me cherish you.”
Before I have time to cry, he goes on.
“I want to be a father to Posey. That little girl…”
Prescott gets a little choked up, and I feel tears spring to my eyes.
“That little girl,” he continues, “has gotten so deep into my heart that I’d have to dig a lot farther than I did that well to get her out again. I think she’s there to stay.”
I feel the tears fall now, and I don’t even care.
This is the most romantic proposal I’ve ever dreamed of.
Who said fairy tales didn’t exist?
* * *
The waiter brings our dessert—triple chocolate truffle cake—and I glance again at my ring. It’s a classic, princess-cut diamond. Prescott knows I’m a traditional romantic. I sigh.
I think I’ve cried my makeup off, but I don’t even care.
I sit here, trying to take it all in.
I think back to the beginning of the year. Prescott getting deployed. Billie finding out she was expecting. Prescott disappearing for a while, and the fear that followed. Finding a new friend in Ben. Seeing Prescott again after he lost his arm. Meeting Posey. Falling in love with Posey. Al and Mabel retiring. Billie giving birth. And now… and now I get to plan a wedding, legally adopt my daughter, and become a family with the only man I’ve ever fallen well and truly in love with.
And we know that all things work together for good to those that love God, to those who are called according to his purpose. —Romans 8:28
Fairy tale, indeed.
Epilogue
Two years later
“Posey, can you grab the diaper bag?” I look around for my coat.
“Already did, Mom; it’s right there.” Posey giggles.
I turn to where she’s gesturing and see the diaper bag by the front door.
“Oh my gosh,” I say, “I didn’t even see it.” I spin around, my eyes searching again.
“There’s your coat, on the back of the chair.”
I turn to the dining room and see my coat right where Posey said.
I walk over to her, lean down, and kiss her forehead. “What would I do without you, my girl?”
She shakes her head, laughing. “I don’t know!”
“All clean!”
I turn to see Prescott holding Phillip like an airplane as he walks toward us.
“Good,” I say in mock disgust, “’Cause he was a stinky boy!” I tickle Phillip’s tummy as they walk by, causing our six-month-old to squeal with laughter.
“What time does it start, again?” Prescott asks as he buckles Phillip into his carrier. He has become a pro at being a one-handed dad.
“7:15.”
Posey is in the kids’ church Christmas program. She gets to play the angel with “good tidings of great joy,” and she is absolutely over the moon about it.
“That’s a weird time,” Prescott says.
“Well, Carrie’s mom said that when you start at 7:15, people will have 7:00 in their head, and they’ll get there on time. Because when you actually schedule it at 7:00, they come in late.”
Prescott stops buckling the baby and turns to me. “I don’t know whether that’s genius or ridiculous.”
“Exactly.”
We’re used to Carrie’s mom’s eccentricities. She simultaneously has the best ideas and the worst ideas. It’s always a great dinner topic after parent meetings.
“Posey, do you have your—”
Posey holds up her costume before I can finish.
“I knew you would,” I say, grinning.
Posey keeps me on track more than I keep myself on track these days.
Ever since having Phillip, I’ve been, well, let’s just say a little more than scatterbrained. Posey is my calm in the storm.
I’m now a stay-at-home mom, which I love more than anything, but Ben occasionally calls me to do special projects that he thinks are “totally me.” They usually are, and I love the chance to get out and work at the store once in a while.
Prescott now works full time with George and has become, in George’s words, “the best one-armed mechanic in the county.” They have gotten so much business restoring old cars, and Prescott has learned so much that George hopes to pass on the business to him when he’s officially too old to work any longer.
Posey is thriving. After the adoption was finalized, she started calling Prescott and me Mom and Dad without hesitation. We both feel as though she’s been ours forever. I truly believe she’ll be an engineer or some kind of inventor. Her ability to find creative ways to do things just increases as she gets older. She’s a great big sister and has helped me so much—I honestly feel like I couldn’t do life without her. I know. That sounds dramatic. But that’s how special she’s become to me. I wouldn’t want to do life without her.
Watching her and Prescott together is the best. They have the best inside jokes with their disabilities, and they’re not afraid to laugh about it. In his journey, Posey has been a healing balm to Prescott.
I’m so in love with my husband. My husband! Squeal! It hasn’t always been easy these past two years, but God has seen us through so much. We’ve both grown in our relationship, parenthood, and our faith. Prescott occasionally thanks me for not giving up on him when he was at his worst. I always tell him to thank the Lord because He’s the one that never gave up on either of us. He’s the one that looked at our mess and decided He still wanted to bless us beyond what we could ask or think. He was the model for never giving up on someone.
As we walk out the door to see Posey’s play, I glance back at our new home.
New marriage. New daughter. New baby. New home.
And new dreams.
Now this is the fairy tale ending I was hoping for.
Lindsay A Marcum, Beyond Shattered Dreams: (Sequel to Just Below the Surface)
