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The second I saw it, this ring sang her name. Uncle Grady and Marty both gave me crap for flipping my lid over jewelry, but I was justified.
This is Shel.
This is how we’ll symbolize the rest of our lives.
The art deco design looks intricate and old-fashioned. The single diamond in the center was cut nearly a hundred years ago in Europe, giving it age and brilliance.
“It reminded me of you.” I pull it from the box, and then take her hand to slide the ring on her finger, so slowly and gently it feels like she’s made of glass.
“I absolutely love it,” she says, watching as I glide it into place. “But where on earth did you ever find it?”
“An antique store just outside Bismarck. Had to fly out of there anyway and we drove in with time to spare. I thought I’d find the perfect ring there rather than a jewelry store. Gotta thank Thelma later for giving me your size,” I say with a wink.
She laughs like it’s the funniest joke in the world.
“You know me so well. So well. I love it and I love you.” She’s still staring at the jewelry, her face lit up like Christmas. “Wow. I’m guessing this must be...circa early twentieth century? Like 1920 or so.”
I pull the little tag out of the bottom of the box and read it.
“1921. Tiffany’s engagement ring. Paris.”
“Dang, I thought it looked like a Tiffany,” she said with excitement.
“You were spot-on. Now tell me when you want a wedding date,” I say, slapping her butt playfully.
She smiles.
“As soon as your leg’s healed and before the holidays.”
“Start planning now. I’m sure we’ll have folks beating down the door to pitch in,” I say, “You’d be amazed at how good I’m already feeling. Must have something to do with having the world’s best and sexiest nurse.”
29
High Off The Hog (Rachel)
“I really must be the best nurse,” I say ten days later as we’re leaving the doctor’s office in Dickinson.
“Don’t forget sexiest,” he growls, pulling me closer to his side as we walk to his pickup.
The doctor said his wound is healing remarkably fast, and he won’t need to worry about a follow-up for a few months unless the injury flares up.
“It’s such a relief,” I say. “Can’t believe I feel so refreshed. It hasn’t even been two weeks since I almost got murdered, saved by a pig, and a marriage proposal.”
“Hercules helped,” he grumbles. “We’ve only been back a few days and I think you’ve made a big dent in that year’s worth of grub I promised him.”
“The little guy’s part monkey. He devours bananas by the bushel,” I say, feeling myself go doe-eyed every time Hercules comes up.
It’s a sweet bonus that I’m marrying a man with a hundred-pound baby.
“He’ll be getting mighty spoiled by Aunt Faye soon enough when we’re on our honeymoon,” he says. “I haven’t had a week off in years till recently. Feels damn good to almost have back-to-back vacations, especially when they’re with you.”
“You’re too sweet,” I whisper. “I’m glad we stayed a few days in D.C. too.”
I squeeze his fingers.
With a quick tweak of our plane tickets, we checked into a nice hotel for the better part of a week. That was plenty of time for me to drag him around to every museum and monument in the city, the Capitol, the fancy restaurants I like and the barbecue places he loved, ending with a heart-wrenching visit to Arlington National Cemetery, Section 60.
It’s the place where they bury veterans of the most recent wars.
