Chapter Twenty-Six
Colton
"Bethany!" I ran into the house, shouting out her name. Mama stepped out of the kitchen with a dishtowel in her hands. I grabbed her by the shoulders and cried out "Have you seen Bethany? I have to talk to her."
"Settle down. She's gone," Mama said.
"You don't mean she's left already?" I felt panicked.
"No. Nothing like that." She tucked a lock of her hair behind her left ear and walked back to the kitchen. I followed her, desperate for more information.
Mama had a pile of potatoes on the counter, and returned to peeling them, talking as she worked. She said, "I went up to Bethany's room to ask if she wanted to help with dinner. All her things are packed, with her bags lined up neatly by the door. She hasn't left yet, but she's not in her room, either. She must be out on the ranch somewhere, saying her goodbyes."
"Thank God," I sighed with relief, and Mama gave me a smack on the back of the head.
"What did I tell you about taking the Lord's name in vain?"
"I'm not swearing, Mama. That was a prayer. I'm asking God not to let her go before I can talk to her."
"Well, if it's the Lord's will, it will be done. Now what's all this about?" Mama asked. Then her eyes grew wide and she asked with a gasp, "Are you going to ask her to marry you?"
I didn't answer, and Mama started smacking me with her dish towel and jumping and down with happy excitement. "You are! I know you are!"
Catching the towel in my hands before she could do any more damage with it, I set it on the dining room table and forced Mama to sit in one of the kitchen chairs. Speaking calmly, I said, "No, Mama. I'm not."
"Why not? Everybody can see you two are perfect for each other."
I wasn't about to tell Mama I was going to ask Bethany if I could go with her to the city. If she knew I planned to live in sin with a girl, she'd grab that dishtowel back and flog me to death with it.
Instead, I said, "I don't know if it's the right time."
"Why not? You love her don't you?"
"I sure do. More than I've ever loved anybody." Saying the words aloud startled me, but it was true. I loved Mama and my brothers, and I'd dated girls in the past that I’d had true affection for; but this love I felt for Bethany was different.
It was stronger, deeper, and far more intense. When she wasn't near me, I wondered what she was doing. I wanted to hear all her stories and could listen to her without ever getting tired or bored. I could tell her anything and never feel embarrassed or ashamed. We didn't even need to talk at all. We could just be together in silence, feeling perfectly content. That's how I knew she was the girl for me.
Mama looked at me intently and asked, "Does she love you just as much?"
"She does. I can see it in her eyes every time she looks at me."
"Well then, what better time are you looking for?" Mama asked wisely. "You love her, and she loves you. If you keep sitting on the fence like you're doing, she'll leave town and you'll lose her forever. Then how will I get my first grandchild?"
"What if I propose and she says no? I don't think I could stand that kind of heartbreak," I confessed my deepest fear.
Mama took my face in her hands and said lovingly, "Why would she say no to you?"
"We've only known each other six weeks," I explained. She just clucked her tongue, as if I'd said something ridiculous.
"What does it matter how long you've known each other?" she scoffed. "When you've found the right person you know you're meant to spend the rest of your life with, it doesn't matter if it's been weeks or years."
"That's nice of you to say, Mama, but if we get engaged that quickly, our marriage will be doomed to failure."
"You think so?" She looked at me thoughtfully. "I guess that makes sense. After all, the divorce rate in this country is already so high. And whoever heard of a marriage being successful when the couple only knew each other for a short period of time?"
"Exactly," I nodded emphatically. Now she was making sense.
Mama moved to the stove and started putting the potatoes she's peeled into a giant pot of boiling water. When she was done, she said quietly, "Three months."
"What?" I was confused.
"Three months," she repeated. "That's how long James Hutchinson and I had known each other on the day we got married."
"I didn't know that." I was stunned. "Dad always said he met you on the Fourth of July at a church picnic."
"That's right, and our anniversary is in October. Three months from the day we met until the day we said I do."
"I assumed it was the next October. Dad said he proposed to you on your anniversary. I thought he meant your one year anniversary."
"Well, you know what they say about people who assume," she chided. "No, your father proposed to me on our one month anniversary."
I was shocked. That was two weeks less than I'd known Bethany, and my parents had been happily married for thirty-eight years, raised five sons, and never said an unkind word to each other that anyone had ever witnessed.
Mama's expression became wistful as she said, "I'll always remember the day he proposed. It was August fourth, and hotter than halleluiah. James took me down to the lake and we went skinny dipping."
"Mama!" I was horrified by the mental image, but she just giggled and kept talking.
"When we got out of the water, he handed me his shirt to wear. There was something in the pocket, and when I took it out, I saw it was an engagement ring. Your father got down on one knee, right in the sand, and asked me to marry him.
“That was nearly forty years ago, and we'd still be happily married today if it hadn't been for..."
Her voice trailed as we both thought of his untimely death. I'd been the one to find him, in a pool of blood from the bullet hole. I just thanked God that Mama hadn't come upon him first. Standing in the kitchen now, I hugged her to me and said, "I know, Mama."
"So, let that be a lesson to you on what does and doesn't lead to a successful marriage. It's not a question of how long you've known each other, but of how well. Do you know Bethany well enough to say if you'd want to spend the rest of your life with her?"
"I do," I said without a moment's hesitation.
"Well then, take this." Mama opened the cupboard above the stove and took down a cigar box. She opened the lid, and inside were all the letters Dad had ever written to her over the course of their lives together. On top of the letters was a solitaire diamond ring with a simple gold band worn by time. She took it out and handed it to me.
"Mama, no. I can't take this."
"Sure you can. It's not the most expensive ring in the world, but it's the most valuable. When your father asked me to marry him and put it on my finger, I knew I'd never seen anything more beautiful in my life. Over the years, he saved up and bought me an even bigger diamond ring, which he gave to me on our twentieth anniversary.
“It's the ring I wear now, but I kept this one tucked away in my box of keepsakes for the day when one of my sons was ready to get married. I want you to take it, and don't you dare refuse."
"I'm really touched by this." I choked back the emotion that had welled up in my throat. I took the ring and stared at it. "Are you sure you want me to have it?"
"I've never seen you as happy as you've been since you met Bethany,” she said. “All I've ever wanted for my sons is for you to find the kind of love I shared with your father, and I think you have with her. Now, go offer that ring to Bethany before she slips away."
"Thank you." I kissed Mama on the cheek and rushed out the door. With the ring safely tucked into my pocket, I hopped onto Whiskey's back and urged her to a gallop, saying, "Come on, let's find Bethany. I'm going to ask her to be my wife."