chapter
20
Things had drastically changed at the Markham Hotel.
This was the place where I’d begun my life with Elizabeth (both with the proposal and the marriage), so it was fitting that it would be the place where I’d end it. It was actually prophetic that the Markham was the only hotel still standing in Houston from the 1940s. Granted, it had been modernized to the point that it almost looked like a new hotel. Thankfully, it still had its historic feel.
Elizabeth and I had come back here for our twenty-fifth anniversary. But we hadn’t been here in years. Life had gotten in the way. Oh, how I wished that I had brought her back here, at least once a year.
I made my way inside to the front counter. As I waited for the two people in front of me to complete their business, I tried to recall the room number that Elizabeth and I had spent our honeymoon night in.
Room 572. It came to me with a nostalgic smile. Elizabeth had always said that was our lucky number. Two years ago, she’d even won three thousand dollars playing those numbers on the Pick 3.
“Good evening, and welcome to the Markham Hotel,” the cheery clerk said to greet me. “How may I help you today?”
“I need a room,” I said, praying that they weren’t sold out. I hadn’t thought about that until this very moment.
My heart sank with relief when she said, “King-size or double?”
“A king,” I replied. “And I’d like Room 572,” I said. “No, I need Room 572,” I corrected.
The clerk tapped her computer screen and then her eyebrows furrowed. “I’m so sorry, but 572 is occupied.”
“No,” I repeated. “I need 572.”
Sympathy filled her face as she said, “I’m so sorry, sir. Room 572 is occupied. And it looks like they’re here all week.”
There had been very few times in my life that I wanted to cry. But this was one of them. It seemed like everything that could work against me was working against me. “I need 572.”
“I’m so sorry,” she repeated. “Is there another room that will do?” She clicked on the screen. “We have 316 available. It has an amazing view overlooking the courtyard, where one of the oldest trees in Houston is preserved.”
I wasn’t in the mood for a history lesson or another room. “I don’t want . . .” And then it dawned on me—316. March 16 was Elizabeth’s birthday, and we were married underneath that tree. This was divine intervention.
“Yes,” I exclaimed, “I’ll take 316.” I whipped out my credit card and driver’s license and waited for her to check me in.
Within minutes, I was standing in the entryway to the room. Room 316 would be just fine. I surveyed the interior. It was nothing like it was when Elizabeth and I had saved all our money to afford the thirteen-dollar-a-night rate. I smiled as I thought of how we had saved for four months to enjoy a week at this hotel. My heart skipped a beat as I went and peered out the window. With the remodeling, I was sure the huge oak tree, which we’d stood under and exchanged vows, would have been decimated with modernization. But the front desk clerk was right—the tree stood with what looked like a historical marker in front of it. I couldn’t read what it said, but I figured the tree was the reason for the sign.
My heart warmed at the memories of Elizabeth and me with her father beaming by her side, and my mother struggling through it all, mortified that we weren’t getting married in a church, but trying to remain supportive. I chuckled as I remembered her reaction when I first told her that we were getting married at a hotel.
“That’s blasphemy,” she’d said. “You’re going straight to hell. What God has put together, let no man take apart. If you’re not standing before God, how can you put a stamp on your marriage?”
“Mom, I thought you were always the one that said God was everywhere.”
I’d stumped her with that one, because she just muttered, “That marriage won’t last,” as she walked off.
I reached my hand to the window as if I could touch the tree. Not only had we lasted, we were time-tested. And now it was time for us to be together again.