Morning took a long time to arrive. The clouds hung low, blocking out the early rays. Google was, for once, proven wrong. It had told us that sunrise would be early. Bold. Dramatic. It failed.
It grew lighter, less dark. She could now count her fingers — her cold fingers — by sight instead of just touch.
She stood waiting by the truck while he unloaded the canoe, gathered the paddle and umbrella, launched the boat. It wasn’t that she was unwilling to help. On the contrary, she would have. But his chivalry would have none of it. She was his girl. He was her man. And men? They help their girls. Always.
He sauntered back across the damp field, grinning at her. His shoeless feet were already wet, possibly numb. He didn’t notice. Not with his girl by his side. Keeping her feet dry, he carried her to the boat. Lifting her with less strain than some lift a feather. Typical, apparently.
It wasn’t a normal morning. Boating at dawn isn’t typical. Some would even call it miserable.
When with the one you’re excited to marry, though? The sun was already shining, even though it never came out. The rain couldn’t even dampen their day together. The birds might as well have sung them a personalized song.
A boat. Together. At dawn. The beginning of a new day. The beginning of a new era. Together.
I don’t want diamond sunbursts, or marble halls. I just want you. – Anne Shirley
Mr. Darcy: “You have bewitched me, body and soul. And I love…I love…I love you. I never wish to be parted from you from this day on.”
Elizaeth: “Well then. Your hands are cold.”