As I walked out the door and down the porch steps, I laughed to myself. She didn’t have a clue. It was so perfect.
I stuck my hand in my pocket, wrapping my fingers around the ring box. Talk about not having a clue—I’d gone to the jewelry store by myself at first, but had gotten overwhelmed immediately. A phone call to Jaime had fixed that. In exchange for promising to tell her exactly when and where I was planning to propose, she gave me some direction.
“Claire is traditional but artsy,” she’d said. “Tell the jeweler you want something pretty and feminine but strong.”
In the end, I’d chosen a princess cut diamond in a floating halo style, and sent Jaime a picture of it.
It’s perfect, she’d texted back. Claire is going to love it!
That was all that mattered.
In the last eight months, she’d brought more joy to my life than I even realized was possible. She was patient and kind and forgiving, even when I struggled with episodes of doubt or anxiety. Those had grown less frequent, and in fact, I hadn’t experienced one at all since the beginning of fall. She listened when I wanted to talk, pushed me to open up when I’d rather shut down, and helped me see the past with better perspective. She made me excited about the future, which for the first time I could see clearly. I knew exactly where I wanted to be when I looked ahead, and I wanted her right beside me.
Today was a giant step in that direction.
After glancing in the back of my car to make sure my clothes were there, I took off down the street as if I was heading for work. In reality, I was headed for Aaron’s house, where I’d change out of my work jeans and boots and into something a little nicer. Then I’d head over to her school.
I couldn’t stop smiling.
* * *
Claire
* * *
“OK, places please! Boys and girls, did you hear me? Places!” I clapped my hands, trying to corral Elyse’s fourth graders into a line near the mic I’d set up in front of the stage in the gym. They’d been studying folklore and had written their own fairy tale, and in art class, we’d painted scenery for it, complete with a tower for their princess. Tomorrow they’d act it out live for parents, and today was sort of the “dress rehearsal.” But the kids were being unusually goofy, giggling and jumping around and whispering behind their hands into one another’s ears. Elyse had no experience with staging a play, so I’d taken the lead.
At least, I was trying to.
I used my strict teacher voice. “You have until I count to three to get in line and be quiet or you’re not performing. One.” There was a mad dash for the line. “Two.” The line straightened out. “Three.” Finally, I could hear myself talk.
“OK. Characters, you need to go backstage with me. Narrators, you should be lined up according to speaking order. If you don’t have your script memorized, you can use it to read.” I turned the narrators over to Elyse, and took the kids playing the roles of characters backstage. “You all have your lines memorized?” I asked. None of them held scripts.
“Yes,” they chorused before a few of them collapsed into giggles. One girl hit a giggler next to her, shushing her loudly.
I shook my head. “Jeez, what is with you guys today? OK, I think we’re ready to start. Princess, go on up.” I gestured toward the step-ladder, which was hidden by a cardboard “tower” painted to look like it was made of stone and covered with vines. “Prince, you go to the other side of the stage and wait in the wings. Witches, wizards, and toads, you stay here.” When everyone was in place, I called out to their teacher. “We’re ready back here!”
“Ms. French! Ms. French!” The princess came down from the stepladder and hopped from one foot to the other. “I have to go to the bathroom really bad!”
I sighed and took her script. “OK go, I’ll fill in for you. But hurry up.”
She took off, I climbed the tower, and the curtain went up.
A female narrator began. “Once upon a time, there was a handsome prince named Prince Theo. He was the handsomest, bravest knight in the land.”
I made a face. Prince Theo? Had they changed his name? That was a coincidence. I glanced at the script, which read Prince Verlander.
A male narrator continued. “Prince Theo had an older brother who stood to inherit their father’s kingdom, so Prince Theo was free to roam the land, slaying dragons, defeating evil wizards, and searching for a princess to rescue.”
What? Where were we? I looked at the second page of the script, but I couldn’t find the lines the narrators were reading. Had they completely rewritten the tale? When I looked up again, I gasped.
Theo—my Theo—was standing onstage wearing the crown the kids had made for the prince and carrying the prince’s jeweled cardboard sword.
A few giggles could be heard in the gym. I blinked a few times and made eye contact with him—he winked.
My heart raced. What on earth was going on?
“Although the prince was the handsomest, cleverest, bravest knight in the land,” a female narrator went on.
“Did you say handsome?” Theo interrupted loudly, striking a valiant pose. “Don’t forget handsome.”
The kids and grownups in the gym roared with laughter. I glanced at the crowd and noticed the principal, assistant principal, office staff, and several fellow teachers had gathered in the gym as well.
“Yes, I did,” the girl said with a giggle. “Although the prince was the handsomest, cleverest, bravest knight in the land, he was not truly happy.”