agreed, also for
the third time.
They both looked at each other and
burst out laughing. The tree was the sorriest Christmas tree she'd
ever seen. The box had contained every hideous decoration that had
ever been made, from silk-covered balls that had frayed to
furriness, to neon orange glass balls, to Elvis ornaments. And only
one lonely little string of lights worked after she'd tested a
dozen.
She smiled up at him. It felt strange
to sit so close to someone and not be able to snuggle up with
him.
He smiled down at her and scrunched
deeper into the couch, crossing his legs at the ankles, his feet
next to hers, and focusing his attention to the old movie on TV. He
couldn't get enough of the old movies.
She'd spent a long night the night
before, watching his weak form, thinking about what an impossible
situation she'd gotten herself into. Falling in love with someone
she couldn't touch; who couldn't touch her back. Someone who would
never grow old and die. It was as hopeless as if she'd fallen in
love with an imaginary lover.
And when she'd teased him earlier and
told him to behave himself, sounding exactly like her mother. She'd
ignored the voice in her head at first. The voice whispering about
babies and motherhood. But she'd finally had to give in and listen.
And think about never having babies. Would she never have the
opportunity to put to use all that her mother had taught her? She'd
had to ask herself which would be worse? Never having something
she'd never had, or spending the rest of her life thinking about
Jared. Loving and missing him, wondering about him and wanting to
be with him so badly she would ache.
She'd finally accepted the fact that
there would be no easy answer to this situation. She would just
live her life one day at a time, make decisions as they were
presented to her, and pray whatever decision she made would be the
best for both of them.
"Oh! Now, how insulting! Was that their
idea of romantic back then?"
Alane pulled her dark, gloomy thoughts
back to the cheery room lit by sparse Christmas tree lights and a
cozy fire.
"What? What was insulting?"
"In this movie." Jared flicked a
disdainful hand toward the TV. "These people are on their
honeymoon, and Fred MacMurray asks his new wife - oh, what's her
name? Claudette Colbert! He asks Claudette Colbert, 'Is your dress
you're wearing to dinner very pretty?' and she says, 'Well, yes, I
think so,' and he says, 'Because I want you to be the prettiest
woman at dinner tonight.' And she melts all over him! Now I ask
you, what kind of compliment is that?"
Before she could even absorb the
question, let alone attempt an answer, he turned to her, his fierce
gaze raking the length of her, taking in her scraggly pony tail,
her turtleneck smudged with ten year old dust, her jeans, her feet
clad in three pairs of jogging socks.
"You could walk into any room in the
world right now and be the most beautiful woman there. Without, "
his voice gentled as he traced his hand along her cheek, "even
washing the dirt from your face."
Talk about melting. Alane could have
trickled right off the couch just from his look.
"You're so sweet," she told him with a
grin, "but you must be mentally disturbed."
His only answer was a grunt as he
settled back to finish the movie.
"Tell me about yourself, Jared." She
could almost feel him tense up at her question, but she forged on.
"I don't want to dredge up painful memories, but I feel like this
is something I need to know now. All I know about you is that you
died two hundred years ago and that you had a wife. Did you have
any children?" He continued to stare at the television, but she
could tell he was no longer watching. After a while he blinked and
a muscle flexed in his jaw.
"She was pregnant."
She swallowed back the first words of
sympathy and fought the nauseating pitch of her stomach at the
thought of another woman carrying his child. Even centuries
ago.
"Did...she die in
childbirth?"
He continued to stare at the
the third time.
They both looked at each other and
burst out laughing. The tree was the sorriest Christmas tree she'd
ever seen. The box had contained every hideous decoration that had
ever been made, from silk-covered balls that had frayed to
furriness, to neon orange glass balls, to Elvis ornaments. And only
one lonely little string of lights worked after she'd tested a
dozen.
She smiled up at him. It felt strange
to sit so close to someone and not be able to snuggle up with
him.
He smiled down at her and scrunched
deeper into the couch, crossing his legs at the ankles, his feet
next to hers, and focusing his attention to the old movie on TV. He
couldn't get enough of the old movies.
She'd spent a long night the night
before, watching his weak form, thinking about what an impossible
situation she'd gotten herself into. Falling in love with someone
she couldn't touch; who couldn't touch her back. Someone who would
never grow old and die. It was as hopeless as if she'd fallen in
love with an imaginary lover.
And when she'd teased him earlier and
told him to behave himself, sounding exactly like her mother. She'd
ignored the voice in her head at first. The voice whispering about
babies and motherhood. But she'd finally had to give in and listen.
And think about never having babies. Would she never have the
opportunity to put to use all that her mother had taught her? She'd
had to ask herself which would be worse? Never having something
she'd never had, or spending the rest of her life thinking about
Jared. Loving and missing him, wondering about him and wanting to
be with him so badly she would ache.
She'd finally accepted the fact that
there would be no easy answer to this situation. She would just
live her life one day at a time, make decisions as they were
presented to her, and pray whatever decision she made would be the
best for both of them.
"Oh! Now, how insulting! Was that their
idea of romantic back then?"
Alane pulled her dark, gloomy thoughts
back to the cheery room lit by sparse Christmas tree lights and a
cozy fire.
"What? What was insulting?"
"In this movie." Jared flicked a
disdainful hand toward the TV. "These people are on their
honeymoon, and Fred MacMurray asks his new wife - oh, what's her
name? Claudette Colbert! He asks Claudette Colbert, 'Is your dress
you're wearing to dinner very pretty?' and she says, 'Well, yes, I
think so,' and he says, 'Because I want you to be the prettiest
woman at dinner tonight.' And she melts all over him! Now I ask
you, what kind of compliment is that?"
Before she could even absorb the
question, let alone attempt an answer, he turned to her, his fierce
gaze raking the length of her, taking in her scraggly pony tail,
her turtleneck smudged with ten year old dust, her jeans, her feet
clad in three pairs of jogging socks.
"You could walk into any room in the
world right now and be the most beautiful woman there. Without, "
his voice gentled as he traced his hand along her cheek, "even
washing the dirt from your face."
Talk about melting. Alane could have
trickled right off the couch just from his look.
"You're so sweet," she told him with a
grin, "but you must be mentally disturbed."
His only answer was a grunt as he
settled back to finish the movie.
"Tell me about yourself, Jared." She
could almost feel him tense up at her question, but she forged on.
"I don't want to dredge up painful memories, but I feel like this
is something I need to know now. All I know about you is that you
died two hundred years ago and that you had a wife. Did you have
any children?" He continued to stare at the television, but she
could tell he was no longer watching. After a while he blinked and
a muscle flexed in his jaw.
"She was pregnant."
She swallowed back the first words of
sympathy and fought the nauseating pitch of her stomach at the
thought of another woman carrying his child. Even centuries
ago.
"Did...she die in
childbirth?"
He continued to stare at the
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