One year later … plus a week for travel
Robert kept his cold fingers wrapped around the steering wheel of the Model T.
“Darling?” Jolene twisted on the passenger seat to face him. “What’s wrong? You haven’t said a word since we left the church.”
He dared a look. Dressed in her bridal clothes, she was so beautiful his eyes hurt.
“This is supposed to be the happiest day of our lives, but you look like you’ve swallowed a persimmon.” Her lips smiled, but her eyes were pinched at the corners.
The celluloid collar around his neck tightened. “I … well, I have another surprise for you.”
Her expression eased. “You mean other than this new car? Which is lovely, by the way.”
“I’m glad you like it.” He’d spent a year refurbishing what had started out as a shell. Last September, Jolene’s dad had offered him a car too beat up to drive to the next fair. His dad, not to be outdone by the generous offer, donated a new set of tires. Over the following twelve months, Robert spent every night after work piecing the car together. Some of his coworkers at the Boeing Airplane Company caught the spirit and started picking up bits and pieces—a hood ornament, running boards, and even some leather seats—as they found them.
It had been a good way to pass a year while waiting to marry his sweetheart. And saved him enough money that he’d put a sizable down payment on a little house near the Duwamish River, where he’d already planted blueberry bushes, a plum tree, and some berry vines. That was his third surprise for Jolene, and a good thing, too, if the second one turned out to be a huge mistake.
Robert let go of the steering wheel and set the brake. “Remember how your dad lectured me about one day us needing to forgive each other. That it might be for a small thing or … or maybe a big thing.”
Wariness crept back into Jolene’s blue eyes. “Yes.”
“Well, I did something I thought would be funny, but it just occurred to me that a woman might not want her wedding reception plans messed with, not even by a husband who thinks she’s the bee’s knees.”
Jolene’s skin turned pink. “What did you do?”
“Maybe I’d better just show you.” He popped out of the car and headed around the hood to open the door for his wife.
His wife!
He was never going to get tired of calling her that. As long as she forgave him for this.
They walked toward the small Elks Club they’d reached ahead of their wedding guests. He opened the door and let Jolene walk inside first. His surprise was front and center.
Jolene broke into peals of laughter. “That’s … perfect.”
Relief filled his lungs. “Thank goodness.”
She set her bouquet down on the table. “And the best part is that I can do this.” Jolene picked one golden triangle from the tower that substituted for a wedding cake and sank her teeth into a freshly baked Fisher Scone.