Only Trick

“In town, the shop owner made it. She had it in back for a ‘special occasion.’ I convinced her it wouldn’t get any more special than today, gracing your beautiful body.”

“How can this…” I shake my head in amazement “…this day with no friends and family feel so … perfect.” I turn to him and press my palms to his dark bristly face. “Because it is …” I whisper, “… it’s perfect.”

His eyes, usually so dark, sparkle with life … our life. “Come.” He takes my hand and leads me to our sandy backyard with a handful of complete strangers in casual beach attire. They’ve lit an enchanted pathway of glowing lanterns from our veranda to the beach where the setting sun casts heavenly shades of violet, yellow, and orange on the end of our day and the beginning of our forever.

Martin Cruz, our landlord slash ordained minister, grins behind his scraggly salt and pepper beard. He’s exchanged his crazy-colored island shirt for a soft yellow collared linen and white shorts. In our bare feet we make a casual stroll hand in hand to our gracious group of witnesses. We both smile at Martin and turn toward each other. He says a few words about love, life, and commitment. I hear none of it. All that my mind can think is “How did he choose me?”

“Trick, what would you like to say to Darby?”

Trick smiles—my smile. “This is all I have to give you—me.” He lifts his shoulders and his vulnerability rips away a little piece of my heart. “A book with blank pages, weathered edges, and eraser marks, that’s what I am. I need you to paint my future, write my story in permanent marker, just like the mark you left on my heart the day we met. Your touch is the only thing I feel, your voice the only thing I hear, your face the only thing I see, but your love … your love, my beauty, is the only thing I need.” He squeezes my hands and my eyes respond with a few tears. “Memories are mortal emotions, but love … what the heart feels, it never forgets. I’ll never forget you, so be my wife, Darby. Write a story with me that never ends.”

I press the pads of my middle fingers to the corners of my eyes then take Trick’s hands again.

“Darby, what would you like to say to Trick?”

I laugh and blink back the impending emotions. “There’s twenty-six letters in the alphabet that can be arranged to express an infinity of emotions.” I shake my head. “But not mine, not for you. There are no words to express the way my whole world falls at your feet, staring up in awe at my best friend, my lover … my forever. The river of love for you that runs through me is deep and all consuming. I came alive for you. With the soft stroke of your brush, you painted my life a million shades of amazing and now my heart finds its rhythm from your love … our love … forever. So be my husband, Trick. Let our story be the only one that matters.”

Martin clears his throat and grins. “Do you Trick take Darby to be your wife?”

“I do.”

I release a small sob disguised as a laugh.

“Do you Darby take Trick to be your husband?”

“I do.” My words are but a whisper, caught in a knot of emotion.

“Then with the power vested in me, I pronounce you husband and wife. Trick, you may kiss your bride.”

Our small gathering of witnesses clap and holler as Trick holds my face and kisses me, not letting the onlookers interfere with our moment. It’s slow and patient as our tongues make languid strokes against each other.

“I love you,” he whispers over my lips, releasing me.

“I love you.” I say it but I’m sure he and everyone else can already see it in my ridiculously large grin that is on my face to stay.

“Congratulations!” Declan slaps his hand on Trick’s shoulder and gives him a manly squeeze of approval. Then he holds out his arms and I smile while he embraces me like we’ve known each other far longer than eight hours. “Come meet the rest of your neighbors.”

Trick pulls me into his side as the rest of the small group closes in on us.

“This is Colby. He’s taking a year off college to find himself.” Everyone laughs. “So if you see his ghost or twin, let us know.”

Colby rolls his hazel eyes, flipping his carefree, dark surfer hair off to the side. “Says the guy who’s still not been accepted to medical school.”

Declan shrugs. “I’m just struggling with a few classes that’s all.”

“Med school, huh?” I smile. “Let me know if you need help with anything. I was a physician’s assistant in Chicago.”