The doorbell rang. Lyssa straightened her skirt and glanced at Jeannie. Her roommate didn’t move out of the easy chair in the girls’ living room. “A little late for you to be so nervous. Go invite the guy in. I’ll let you know if I think he’s worthy of you.”
“My dad likes him,” Lyssa tossed over her shoulder as she headed across the carpet. Didn’t that matter more than Jeannie’s opinion? It wouldn’t have only a week before.
The door opened to a giant bouquet of roses obscuring Kirk’s face.
Lyssa caught her breath as the heady scent flowed over her. “They’re beautiful.” No one had ever given her flowers before, let alone in such abundance.
Kirk swept the bouquet aside and reached for her, tugging her to him with one arm. He planted a light kiss on her mouth. “Not as beautiful as you are.”
She blinked back tears of joy. “Come on in. I should get these in water.” She didn’t even have a pretty vase. What would she do with them?
“Taken care of. Where shall I put them?”
The table was set for three. “Here, on the end.” She watched as he placed the arrangement in the vacant spot. How had she managed to find such an awesome guy?
He straightened and looked back at her. She could drown in those blue eyes, except for Jeannie clearing her throat behind Lyssa’s back.
“I’d introduce you to my roommate, Jeannie, except that you’ve already met.”
“Indeed we have.” Kirk snugged Lyssa to his side for a moment as they turned toward the living room. “Nice to meet you again, Jeannie.” He sounded a little cautious, and well he ought to.
“Hi, Kirk.” If Jeannie’s skin were capable of reddening, Lyssa guessed now might be the time. Jeannie got to her feet. “I have an apology to make.”
“So do I. No other student got under my skin the way you did, and I’m sorry I baited you so often. God has forgiven me, but I’d really like it if you did, too.”
“If you can forgive me for being so rude to you.” Jeannie glanced at Lyssa, and a half grin formed on her face. “I don’t want anyone to hurt Lys. She’s the best friend I’ve ever had.”
Kirk’s hand tightened on Lyssa’s waist. “I have no intention of hurting her. Not ever.”
Silence held for a few seconds, and then Lyssa pulled out of his embrace. “If you’d like to have a seat and visit with Jeannie for a few minutes, I’ll finish getting dinner on the table.”
It looked like they could be trusted to remain civil. She could only hope.
“Nope, this time it’s your turn to prove you can read lats and longs.” Kirk waggled his eyebrows at Lyssa. “You’ve been making me do it every time. Do you still have what it takes or not?”
He’d been waiting for this day. Every time they’d been out geocaching lately—nearly every weekend—he’d been preparing to turn the tables on her.
She slapped his outstretched palm, accepting the challenge. “Oh, I am so up for it.”
He jutted his chin at the GPS unit in her hand. “Show me how it’s done. Read me the clue.”
Lyssa turned it on. “Roses are pink, violets are blue. The treasure is close, and so are you.” She cocked an eyebrow at Kirk. “Seriously?”
“Hey, I never said I was a poet.”
“Roses are pink. Good grief, Kirk. That’s only helpful if treasure hunters are here while the wild roses are in bloom.”
No point telling her it was a one-use cache. She’d figure it out. “Anyone who does much hiking will recognize the bush whether there are blossoms on it or not.”
“Point taken. So I’m warm?”
Kirk plopped down on a rock beside the stream, where he had a good view of the back trail. “I’ll wait right here.” The gurgling stream cooled the air beside him, and the flowers’ heady scents filled the air. A bird chirped.
“Okay then. Three satellites in range, so the degree of accuracy is within ten meters.” She wandered around the little clearing, mumbling to herself and watching the handheld.
Kirk scanned the forest. Ah, there she was. Jeannie waved at him from a shadowy spot down the trail. He wouldn’t have seen her if she hadn’t moved, with her dark skin and mossy-green clothes blending into the bushes. Kirk glanced at Lyssa as she circled the area then raised his hand in acknowledgment.
Jeannie nodded and trotted silently off. She’d been delighted to guard the cache for him this morning. He couldn’t have done it without her.
Lyssa stopped in front of a rosebush clinging to the sandy soil along the stream bank. A few spent petals still dangled from the thorns. Little blue flowers sprouted between the rocks nearby. She planted her hands on her hips and turned to face Kirk. “These aren’t violets.”
He crossed his arms and winked at her. “Never said they were.”
“There aren’t any violets around here.” She scowled. “So your poem doesn’t make sense. If you can even call it that.”
Surely there was a twinkle in those eyes. “Ever heard of poetic license?”
Definitely a sparkle. “So right here, then. Where there are both roses and … blue dayflowers.”
Oh, so that’s what those were called.
“What kind of container am I looking for?”
She’d never helped him find the first few but told him to figure it out himself. Payback was sweet. “You’ll know it when you see it.”
Maybe one day Dale would experience love again. The past few weeks he’d softened some, admitting he’d jumped too harshly on Lyssa. Now that they’d all spent a bit of time together, Dale had given his cautious approval. It meant a lot to have that much. Perhaps sometime Dale would even come to church with them.
Lyssa wiped her hair away from her eyes and got on her knees in front of the rosebushes. She leaned over and probed behind rocks and under deadfalls.
Kirk held his breath. Any second now …
She stilled, glancing at him before withdrawing a small wooden box from its dark crevice. “This one won’t hold up to the elements for long.” Her voice caught, and she turned to sit on a fallen log. She stroked the curved lid, biting her lip.
Trembling?
“It isn’t meant to.” Kirk couldn’t help himself. In four long strides he was beside her on the log. He slid his arm around her waist, filling his senses with her floral perfume. “Better open it and make sure it’s the geocache.”
Lyssa undid the clasp and tipped the lid on its brass hinges, revealing an envelope and a tiny brown leather box. The box.
He nuzzled her ear and drew her closer. “What did you find?”
Lyssa slit the envelope and pulled out his card. He’d labored over the inside, finally settling on the less-than-poetic Roses are red/ Green is the tree/ I love you/ Will you marry me? Her beautiful eyes shimmered as she met his gaze.
Kirk touched his finger to her lips then lifted out the box and opened it. He tilted it toward her, holding his breath. Not completely traditional, but neither was she. He hadn’t been able to resist the symbolism.
Her trembling finger traced the diamond and the two small gems flanking it.
“Topazes,” Kirk murmured against her cheek. “They’re like your eyes, all brown, but lit up with sparkling gold.”
She turned, leaning into his embrace.
“Lyssa?” Kirk smoothed the hair away from her face. “You haven’t answered.” He lifted the card from the log she’d set it on.
She threw her arms around his neck and buried her face against it. “Yes, please,” she breathed against his ear. “I’ll marry you. There’s nothing I’d rather do.”
His lips found her neck and traced a line up toward her ear, nudging her until she turned and met his mouth with hers.
A treasure more bountiful than he deserved.