The absence of a proposal notwithstanding, David made the occasional romantic gesture. They were few; thus they were all the more memorable. One came on our wedding day. Our moms forced us apart, citing the old superstition that bad luck followed if a groom saw his bride before the ceremony.
I was closeted in my aunt's bedroom, believing David was miles away making certain his backyard was ready for the service that would take place that afternoon. My freshly washed hair was still wrapped in a towel. I was sprawled backwards across the bed, lying in my bathrobe staring dreamily at the ceiling. A staccato rapping on the second story window brought me upright. Squatting on the porch roof, my fiancé was frantically gesturing for me to open the window and let him in.
As I ran across the room, the scarlet towel flew from my head, settling like a red carpet laid out for the entrance of my beau.
"What in the world?" I cried as I pushed up the window.
Placing a cautionary finger over my lips, he whispered, "Shhh."
He jumped nimbly over the windowsill. He grabbed my arms and placed me unceremoniously in a desk chair. Dropping to his knee on the makeshift red carpet, he took my hand, looked into my eyes, and recited:
Do you want to spend a lifetime, darling,
In times of good and well?
But will you stick beside me
Through those of thickest hell?
Do you want to spend a lifetime, darling,
Loving me, faithful and true?
But when immaturity has passed,
Will you love me for saying, 'I do?'
Do you want to spend a lifetime, darling?
This is your last chance to refrain.
Because after the vows are spoken, love;
It's much too late for pain.
"Of course I want to spend a lifetime, darling," I breathed, leaning forward, expecting a kiss, but he wasn't done.
Taking a small square box from his pocket, he continued.
"I can't promise you a life without pain, Sydney Rae Montgomery. I wish I could, but I know there will be times we will hurt each other. What I want you to remember is that some of God's most beautiful creations come with thorns. Thorns cause pain, but when you get past the pain, you discover the beauty and sweet fragrance of the rose."
Opening the box, he revealed tiny pink rose earrings fashioned from Blackhills Gold, with a diamond center.
"I want you to wear these today. They'll be a reminder of those rocky days during courtship that we survived. Remember when I dated piston hips just to make you mad?" He grinned as he said the words.
"Yeah, and it worked, too. Almost too well."
"Well, maybe these earrings can help us remember to work through the thorns that come in the future."
"Rather than days of silence, while I plot revenge?"
"Or maybe they'll remind me of the consequences of making you mad."
He looked down at the earrings.
"Anyway, I bought these for you and I practiced telling you what they mean."
"Who'd you practice on?" I asked with a mock glower.
"The mirror. Can I finish now?"
I nodded.
"The diamond in the center represents the purity of our love. It is true and can endure sickness or health, poverty or wealth, adversity or opportunity."
Carefully taking one rose from the box, he attached it to my left ear. He repeated the process with the right. I hardly drew a breath; I was so touched.
Finally, he took my face between his hands and gently kissed my lips.
"See you in a few," he said with a grin.
I sat stunned as he disappeared through the still-open window. I had just experienced the most romantic moment of my short life while perched on a desk chair, wearing a bathrobe, and sporting limp, wet locks.
As I took stock of my disheveled state, I noticed an envelope sitting on the floor under the earring box. I picked it up and opened it. Inside was a handmade card. Growing from twisted roots spelling love, a stem with thorns was topped with a luxurious rose that dominated the space. Centered in the bloom was a tiny pen-and-ink portrait of my face.
I touched the exquisite drawing. I knew David had artistic talent. He had drawn pictures on the letters he sent when we were separated for the holidays. He had even sketched a decent likeness of my face, but never on such a small, detailed scale. The principal surprise was on the inside. The poem he recited was penned in fanciful letters, with the name of the poet signed carefully: David Webb Lander.
Up until that moment, I thought I was the only writer in our relationship. I had written him a few poems, but prose was my forte. I aspired to write for a living someday, but this was the first time David put pen to paper to express his feelings.
I cherished that poem through thirty years of marriage. When I was tempted to give up on our union, I took out the card and read what I promised.
"I want to spend a lifetime, darling."
That commitment carried us through the thorny times David predicted on that morning when he fastened shiny new earrings to my earlobes. The shine might tarnish. Pain might threaten to engulf our love. The purity of the diamond might be tested. In the end, it was the promise that kept our marriage from going the way of so many – separation and then divorce. I would look into the mirror at the earrings and whisper, "I promised to spend a lifetime."
#
Faith carefully extracted the card from between the pages of the diary. The edges were worn. Mama obviously had held the card many times. Faith examined the face in the center of the rose. The eyes drew her with their sparkle. The shy smile spoke of innocence.
"I didn't know you could draw faces, Daddy," she whispered. "This was obviously a labor of love."
Opening the card, she read the title: "Will You Spend a Lifetime, Darling?"
"That's the million dollar question, Mama," she said aloud. "Will I spend a lifetime? Am I ready to accompany Aaron through the thickest hell? That's what I wanted you to help me figure out."
The ringing of her cell phone startled Faith out of her reverie. Glancing down at the screen, she smiled. "Hello, Josh. What's up?"
"I thought I might take my favorite sister to lunch."
"Now? It's only 11 o'clock."
"We can beat the lunch hour rush."
Looking at the card in her hand, Faith made a decision. It was time to let Josh in on her secret. She had told him that Mama gave her the earrings. She had not divulged the existence of the journal. Josh and Ivy had made the same promise as Mama and Daddy. They had promised to spend a lifetime. How had they known they were ready for that step?
A short time later, Faith pulled into the side lot of April's. She saw Joshua Lander pacing in front of the Cajun-style building with its sloping roof and wide porch lined with rocking chairs. He glanced at his watch, a frown on his face. When she clambered up the end steps, his face cleared.
"Keep your pants on, Bro," she called. "I'm here."
When she reached him, he gave her a dutiful peck on the cheek. She smiled at him.
"You look – revived?" he ended on a quizzical note.
"I know, Josh. I am. Mama's still here."
As his mouth drooped into a concerned frown, Faith rushed to clarify.
"Not here, as in like a ghost. Here," she tapped her head, "a voice from the within. And here," she covered her heart, "a miracle from beyond. And here," she pulled the rose-embossed card from her purse, "a message from the past."
Taking the card from his sister's hand, Josh looked down into his mother's face. His eyes clouded.
"We'd better go inside and order," he said abruptly. "I'm on my lunch hour, you know."
"I know. I know." Faith reached out and pulled open the door. "Come on, let's find a table."
The hostess hugged Faith and then Josh.
"I'm so sorry about your Mama," she said. "We'll miss her."
Faith pasted on the smile she had learned to display when people offered condolences. "I know," she said.
"We all will," Josh added.
"Just sit wherever you want," the girl said. "The lunch crowd hasn't arrived yet."
Faith led the way to a table in a far corner. There was a potted fig tree that partially hid the table. She hoped the remote spot would discourage people from interrupting.
Once they ordered their drinks and filled plates from the buffet, Josh looked more closely at the drawing.
"Where'd you get this?" he asked. "This is how Mama looked when I was little. Maybe a little more mature, but pretty much the same."
"Mama left me her memoirs, and it was inside."
The waitress's return with their drinks momentarily interrupted their conversation. Faith watched Josh. He barely looked up when his tea was set on the table. His eyes were riveted on the card but with a faraway look, as though he were no longer present in the moment. The Landers had a way of going into a trance. Mama called it the Lander stare.
"Earth to Josh," Faith said. "You've got that Lander stare going."
"Sorry. I was just remembering."
"Well then, share."
A sheepish grin spread across his face.
"I was probably only three or four. Mama and I were walking down the country road that ran past our house. It was almost dark. I looked out into a field and saw a bush that twinkled with tiny lights. 'Look, Mama, it's a Christmas bush,' I said." He shrugged and then jabbed his finger in the air two or three times as he talked. "She didn't poke any holes in my theory. She smiled and knelt down so that we were eye to eye. 'So it is,' she said. 'God decorated it just for us, to remind us that every day is Christmas in our hearts.'"
"Fireflies," Faith murmured.
"Yeah, it was. I didn't understand until later that fireflies flitting around an azalea bush caused the magical vision. Even then, it was Mama who explained that a firefly-decorated bush was still a wonder God made to spark the imagination."
"She had a knack for knowing what to tell us and when," Faith said.
Josh took a bite of his meal.
"So, Mama left memoirs?" he asked. "I didn't know she wrote anything but what she published."
Faith held out the letter from Mama.
"Read this. It explains everything."
As Josh read the letter, Faith started to eat but kept her eyes on his face.
"I've only started reading, Josh, and when I'm done I'll share them with you," she said as he finished the letter and handed it back. "When you called, I had just found the card. Daddy drew it for Mama and gave it to her on their wedding day. There's a poem inside. One he wrote. Maybe he had cold feet, or else he thought Mama might. The poem asks her to love him for a lifetime and gives her an out. I guess he'd have rather been left standing at the altar than have his heart broken later."
Opening the card, Joshua read the words aloud softly.
"It doesn't sound like cold feet, Faith. It sounds like he was afraid that he'd committed his heart but wasn't positive that she felt the same. Did you know their song was I Think I Love You?"
"I Think I Love You?"
"It's a song from the 70's. Mama used to sing it sometimes when I was little. After she and Daddy had a disagreement and her annoyance evaporated, she would sing, 'I think I love you. So what am I so afraid of? I'm afraid that I'm not sure of, a love there is no cure for.' She would dance around the room until she was behind Daddy's chair and slide her arms around his shoulders and sing in his ear, 'I think I love you; I think I love you; I think I love you.' He would laugh and pull her into his lap and say, 'I think I love you too, Sweet,' and kiss her."
"So why didn't I know that?"
"Maybe by the time you came along, dealing with us rambunctious boys had drained the dance out of her. I don't know."
"So how did you know that Ivy was the one, the love of your life, the one that you were willing to promise to 'spend a lifetime?'"
"Know? I didn't." He raised an eyebrow and his mouth drew up on one corner. "I was scared by the thought of marriage, but I would get mad when I the thought of her with someone else. I tried to picture us sitting on a porch with gray hair. I couldn't. Then I tried to picture her in a wedding gown smiling up at my best friend. I saw red. All I knew was that I needed her more than I needed independence. I decided to gamble a lifetime on love."
Faith's thoughts strayed to Aaron. In her mind she saw him with a strange woman. An angelic little girl had her arms around his neck. Disturbed, she glanced at her watch to hide her discomfort.
"We'd better dig in," she said. "You're going to be late for work."
"What about you?" Josh asked. "Are you working or just moping?"
"Working and moping," she said. "When we leave here, I'm going by the courthouse, and the obits wait for no one. It may be next week before I get to read more."