Page 103 of A Whim and a Prayer

Was it what he was expecting? Yes.

Confirming—as he had prayed—that he was making the right decision.

He looked up, his smile tender. “I love it,” he said quietly, returning his gaze to the silver picture frame that held one of his favorite pictures of Winnie and him together.

They’d been caught in a rainstorm after a full day at Revere Beach with her cousins, and he’d managed to talk her into one last ride before they left—on the Revere Beach Cyclone rollercoaster, which Winnie hated, but did it for him.

Sure, rollercoasters were fun, and he really did like them a lot. And the Cyclone was one of the tallest in the world—100 feet tall with over 3,600 feet of track that dominated the skyline.

But what made this one so special for Beck was the slow climb up the first towering hill overlooking the Atlantic Ocean. Followed, of course, by the dramatic 50-mph plunge that always found Winnie nearly in his lap, one hand clutching his thigh so hard, he was surprised he didn’t bruise. They were jostled so close on that first dive, he always took advantage with an arm tight around her shoulders and one hand on the shared lap bar while she screamed his name over and over, making him grin the entire time.

During those moments, he loved the closeness, the fact that she needed him, the knowledge that he could protect her, and that his name was always the first one she called to for help.

When lightning suddenly crackled in the sky and thunder boomed, they were stalled at the very top, rain pelting hard while Winnie clung to him, quivering in his arms more than their bench seats, buffeted by the wind.

“B-Beck, I’m s-scared …” she’d cried, her sobs wracking his body as she buried her head in his chest.

“Shhh … it’ll be all right, Pooh.” He’d soothed her with a kiss to her hair. “God will protect us.”

“I d-don’t trust h-him, B-Beck …”

“No, but I do. So … do you trust me?”

She’d looked up then, and he saw the answer in her eyes as her body slowly began to calm.

When they’d finally gotten off the coaster that day, Teddy, Abby, and her sisters were all waiting, and Teddy had taken the picture Beck now held in his hands, in a thick silver frame that was engraved.

Friends Forever … Weathering Every Storm

Beck was not an overly emotional man, which always balanced Winnie’s emotional nature so well, but looking at her present now, he was hard-pressed to fight the sting of tears in his eyes. Pushing off from the railing, he ambled over and sat right down beside her, never saying a word as he laid the framed picture aside to gather her in his arms. When he did speak, his voice was low and rough and fraught with emotion. “I love you, Winifred Dennehy, and whether that’s as a friend or more, I will never stop.”

With a strangled cry, Winnie thrust herself deeper into his hold, clutching him as if they were one.

And for Beck, in that very moment, they were, in his eyes, if not in God’s.

“I love you too, Beck, and I’ve missed you so much, it hurts.”

Chuckling, he shifted to tuck the framed picture inside his jacket before fishing hers from his pocket. “Well, we can’t have any more hurt, now can we? So, why don’t you open your present now, Pooh?”

She giggled, and in the blink of an eye, she transformed into the little girl he once swore to love and protect forever.

“It’s so small,” she said, turning it over and over, and he grinned at the barest note of trepidation in her voice as she held the ring-sized box.

“Open it, Dennehy. It’s not going to bite.”

“O … kay.” She tore the paper and ribbon off, and he laughed outright when her fingers shook as she slowly lifted the lid and folded the tissue paper back.

But it was the catch of her breath followed by the swell of tears in her eyes that told him he’d hit the mark when she lifted up the tiny Claddagh ring that for those of Irish heritage, primarily symbolized friendship.

“Oh, Beck,” she cried, hand trembling to her mouth, “It’s the most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen!”

His smile veered off-center as he took it from her hand and held it up like she had. “Well, it’s not the most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen, Dennehy”—his wink dusted her cheeks with a blush in the moonlight—“but it is pretty, and it’s clearly perfect for our friendship.”

Holding it toward the light bleeding through Mrs. D’s window sheers, he proceeded to share its symbolism, pointing at its design. “As you can see, it has three elements. The two hands holding the emerald heart represent friendship, the heart itself represents love, and the crown on top of the heart represents loyalty or fidelity, which in Irish lore means, ‘Let love and friendship reign.’ Which, Miss Dennehy, is exactly what you and I have.”

He angled toward her, pinning her with a solemn smile. “And although I wanted far more than friendship from you, kiddo, the ‘love’ aspect of the ring convinced me that real love—like God has for each of us, His agape love—always defers to the other, wanting only to bless them.”

“Now,” he continued, turning the ring to various positions, “the Claddagh ring primarily signifies a deep token of friendship, but it can also mean other things. For instance, if you wear it on your left hand with the heart pointing toward the wrist like this”—he demonstrated by holding that position against her hand—“it means you’re engaged.”