See Disclaimers part 1
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A Patriotic Pursuit 3/4
By Lacy
Josh takes longer than expected to find the place. He probably got
caught up in some national emergency that's more important than our
love life.
Relax. That wasn't me being bitter.
Just before I decide to call him back, his car pulls up behind mine
across the street. Cindy has decided to leave us alone in the house
for a bit, so we can talk privately. She meets Josh on the sidewalk
and waves him into the house.
From the upstairs window, I can see him on the sidewalk staring up at
the house. I swear he just did a double take. I wave him at him
through the window and then listen to his pounding feet negotiating
the stairs.
"Donna?" he asks when he enters the room. "Sorry, I'm late."
"It's not as expensive as you think," I immediately take the
defensive.
"So, it's just seven hundred thousand instead of eight," he jokes.
"The previous owners wanted to dump a little real estate," I explain.
"In one of D.C.'s best neighborhoods?"
"I know, I don't get it either."
"So what am I looking at?"
"Four bedrooms, three and half baths, a study, a dining room-"
"I meant how much does it cost," he interrupts. "Four bedrooms?"
"It's a little more than we discussed," I stall.
"Yes, and I'm not surprised."
"But just a little more." Actually, it's more than a 'little', but
I'm trying to sell it here.
"So, we could afford it together?"
"Well we could if you gave me that raise I've been asking for."
"Damn," he smirks. "I walked right into that one, didn't I?"
"Yes, you did. It was very sloppy of you Joshua."
"How much?"
"We can afford the payments if we put eighty thousand down." The
words pour out of my mouth in a rush.
"I see."
"But you can easily get thirty from selling the apartment."
"True," he replies. He brushes aside his jacket and slides his hands
into his pockets. Well, he's not walking out, so I choose to take
that as a good sign. "Where were you planning to get the other fifty
thousand?"
"They'll never miss it from the Treasury."
"Very funny," he smiles.
"This is the house, Josh. I felt it when I was standing across the
street -- even when I didn't want to. The feeling only got stronger
when I looked around."
"Show me," he says, reaching for my hand.
We go back downstairs and start at the bottom. I show him the kitchen
and the living room with its ornately carved fireplace. He loves the
study even though he tries not to show it. Back upstairs I take him
through the guestroom.
"Cindy says this room can be converted into a nursery." I am kicking
myself for saying that out loud.
"A nursery, huh?"
"You've got to see the rest of the master bedroom, Josh. You're going
to love the bathroom." Holding his hand, I drag him across the hall
to the master, and into the bathroom.
He inspects the room, saying nothing.
"The shower is big enough for two," I mention. When all else fails -
allude to sex. "And there's a Roman oval bath."
"I can see that," he responds.
"I want a Roman oval bath, Josh!" I can't take it anymore. I attempt
to insert a flirtatious air to my petulance.
"This is the house, huh?"
"I love this house."
"You don't think, maybe, if you looked a little longer, that you could
find one you would like better?"
"Even if we had a million dollars to spend, I wouldn't find a better
house," I whisper. "I can picture our children growing up here."
"But it's a lot of money, Donna, especially when you take into
consideration how temporary our jobs really are." He says nothing
more, but wanders back into the bedroom. I watch him go, deciding
that perhaps it might be best to let him think about it for a moment.
I take a seat on the lip of the lovely Roman oval bathtub that I so
desperately want to call my own.
Josh wanders back into the bathroom. He looks down at me for a
heartbeat before joining me on the lip of the tub. We still in
silence for a moment, Josh staring at he tile floor as though
memorizing its pattern.
"My father left me some money," he breaks the silence.
"What?"
"My father left me some money," he repeats.
"I heard you, but how come I don't know about it?"
"I've never touched it, that's why. I've never transferred it into my
accounts."
"Oh."
"My father wanted grandchildren. He wanted me to have a life, Donna.
He wanted me to have something that was more than politics. For a
long time I didn't understand that. I thought he was just being
demanding. He left the money in the hopes that I could find some
security with it. I can't think of a better reason to use the money,
than to buy this house for us."
"Really?" The fact that he's saying yes is slowly sinking into my
brain.
"Let's get the house, Donna."
"Really?"
"Yes"
"Really?
"Yes."
Before I can open my mouth to repeat my question for the fourth time,
he holds up a hand to interrupt me.
"There's something that needs to be done first."
"What?" I knew there would be a catch. I can feel the smile slipping
from my face.
"The reason why I was so late was because I had someplace else I had
to go first."
"Where did you go?"
He clears his throat, not meeting me in the eye. There it is again.
That freaked out look he's had all week. That fidgety, jittery,
squirmy, nervous, twitchy look.
"I went home. To get something."
"What did you get?"
He reaches into his coat pocket to remove something. Something he's
trying to keep hidden from me in his fist.
"What is it, Josh?" I ask, worriedly.
"Donna," he says. "There are some things I need to say to you."
Here it comes. He's going to tell me what's had him feeling so
restless lately. He's just agreed to buy this house for me, which
makes me wonder why he'd want to screw it all up now.
"When you walked into my office in New Hampshire I thought, 'Well,
this is the last thing I need--'"
"I know, I was more than a little pushy," I interrupt.
"Yes, you were. And less than truthful, if I recall--"
"I was nervous."
"You seemed pretty confident…at first--"
"I was shaking inside."
"I know the feeling," he murmurs.
"I was also babbling like an idiot."
"We've been through a lot in the last three and a half years, and last
year was…."
"Hell," I finish.
"Yeah, for both of us. There were times when I wondered if I would
make it through -- if we would make it through. And I wondered if it
would all be worth it if we did. I said a lot of unforgivable things
to a lot of people-"
"It's okay," I stop him.
"Donna!"
"What?"
"I'm trying to get something done here and you keep interrupting me."
"Sorry," I say. "I'll be quiet."
"Okay, then. Now, where was I?"
"Unforgivable things," I prompt.
"Right, thanks. Unforgivable things. There were times I was afraid I
was going to lose everything I had. My job, my life…you. There was a
time when I wondered if I had already lost you. But we made it
through, Donna. We got in the clear, and I wanted to tell you…I
wanted you to know…what I mean is…."
He's getting uncharacteristically flustered, floundering in his
inability to articulate himself. I place a hand on his arm and it
seems to have a calming affect.
"I want you know that, in my entire life, I can't remember ever being
as happy as I am when I'm with you."
"Josh." I do my best to speak even through the pain of my tightening
throat.
"Sshh," he whispers. "I'm not finished. Don't say anything yet."
He holds up the fist that he's been trying to keep hidden from me.
Slowly, his fingers unfold like a flower and there, resting in his
palm, is a small velvet case. Just about the size for a ring.
He didn't. He wouldn't. He wouldn't even know how! Not without my
help, anyway.
He opens the case and holds it out to me, as we sit there, side by
side on the lip of our new Roman oval bathtub. I can't look at it.
I'm afraid to look at it. I'm afraid to take my eyes off of him.
"Marry me, Donna."
My tear ducts just went from zero to sixty, in half a second. I open
my mouth to speak, but nothing comes out. My heart is full of a
thousand things to say, but it won't communicate with my mouth. All I
can do is stare at him with my jaw opening and closing like a dying
fish. I snap my mouth shut because I know that I must look like an
idiot.
He's proposing to me. He wants to marry me and he's brought the ring
to prove it. You know what? I've just discovered something. I've
just discovered that no matter how much of a feminist you think you
are, or how independent you become, this is one of those moments in
life that every girl waits for. No matter how deep in her heart she
tries to hide it. This is a once in lifetime moment that can never be
truly duplicated. This is a moment, I will remember with perfect
clarity for the rest of my life.
"Donna?"
"Josh?"
"You can talk now," he says.
"Yes, Josh."
"What did you say?"
"I said, 'yes, Josh'."
"Really?" he asks. How could he have doubted my answer?
"Yes, Josh."
"Really?" He releases all the tension he's been feeling in laughter,
his deliciously dimpled grin spreading across his face.
"Yes, Josh." I begin to laugh through my tears and I can taste the
saline in my throat.
No wonder he's been restless. I would guess that he's had the ring in
his proverbial pocket for just about week. I take his face in my
hands and place my lips on his. I can taste the salt of my tears on
my lips and I know that he can taste them too.
"Why were you so nervous?" I ask, when break off the kiss to look in
his eyes.
"I just wanted it to be right," he answers.
"You realize, of course, that you proposed in a bathroom while sitting
on a bathtub, right?"
"Yeah, but it's a Roman oval bathtub," he stands and takes my hand,
drawing me up as well. He extracts the ring from its case and holds
it between his thumb and forefinger. "Care to try this on for size?"
I hold out my hand.
"Other hand," he tells me.
Oops. I had instinctually held out my dominant right hand. I switch
hands, noticing that the fingers are shaking slightly. Have you ever
been so emotionally overwhelmed by a moment that it just sucks the
energy out of your body? That's not exactly accurate. It's like you
suddenly have so much energy that your body doesn't know how to handle
it, so every muscle goes into overdrive. That's how I feel right now.
I think I need to lie down.
The sensation of the ring sliding onto my finger is awkward...but only
in that it's a new feeling. It's a perfect fit -- as though crafted
just for me -- and he seems as surprised as I am. For the first time
I seize the moment to examine the ring. It's a platinum band with a
large diamond in the center and two smaller Marquis cut diamonds on
either side, four in all. The band is etched with a gorgeous antique
pattern.
"It's stunning, Josh."
"You like it?"
"It's perfect." My thumb touches the underside of the band as I try
to accustom myself to the new piece of jewelry on my finger.
"I thought so, too," he replies.
"How did you--?"
"The President sent me someplace special," he cuts me off. "The
salesman was very helpful. So were Sam and Toby."
"Sam and Toby went with you, and you still managed to get a ring this
beautiful?"
"Yeah," he laughs. "You should see them. They've been busting a gut
wondering when I was going to pop the question."
"We should probably let them know as soon as possible," I say.
"It can wait a while longer." His arms wrap around my waist, pulling
me into a snug embrace. His eyes scan the room again, and I know that
he's picturing our future here. "I look forward to having a lot of
good times in this room." See? What did I tell you? I know those
looks.
"You do?" I ask coyly.
His eyes have that mischievous twinkle and the smile turns into a
lascivious leer, the dimples driving me to distraction. My body is
tingling all over when he places a not-so-chaste kiss on my lips. Our
mouths linger together, a promise of satisfaction to come.
"I do," he whispers.
And that's when it hits me -- when he says those words. I'm going to
marry this man. This man whom I have loved since the day we met.
This man who makes me happy. I'm not settling here. This isn't me
taking what I can get. For so long I settled for the illusion of
happiness, but now Josh offers me the genuine article. And, for once,
I don't have to ask myself, is it real or is it Memorex?
It doesn't get any more real. I don't get any more real then when I'm
in his arms.
TBC
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