The Request

By JoAnn Baca

 

She had said, “Show me where.” An odd request on an anniversary. He’d thought that moment was lost in the passing of years. But she had asked him and he would always do anything she asked.

 

They climbed over a steep embankment near the road, wary of vehicles or passersby even at this late hour. He helped her negotiate the steep decline.

 

“Here.” He knelt, his fingers tracing over the exact spot, seared into his memory with all the force of the shock and mystery of his first sight of her.

 

She approached and knelt, brushing the weeds with her hand. Her eyes filled with tears. She turned to him.

 

“Thank you. I know this must have been difficult for you.”

 

“For me? But you were the one lying broken here,” he said.

 

“Here began my new life,” she countered, “here, where you first took me into your arms.”

 

She stood up, brushing the leaves from her knees. “Thank you.”

 

He nodded.

 

She held up her arms to him.

 

Knowing now what she wanted, he swept her up and carried her…up the embankment, into the tunnels, not stopping until he placed her gently on their bed in the chamber they now shared.

 

“This path…my path…made my life complete,” she told him.

 

Then she showed him what she meant.

 

 

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April 12, 2014 Index