That sunlight on my face that morning would be the last of its kind. Radio reports said that a huge storm was brewing, and you made the decision then and there to pack up and head toward home. Little did I know that you had a little stop-over in mind.
As we broke camp and reloaded our vehicle, angry black clouds rolled across the sky. I begin to worry, as I always do, about the impending storm but your nonchalant attitude keeps me somewhat calmer than I would have normally been. You just grin and wink at me when I express my sorrow at our weekend ending so abruptly. I'm not quite sure what to make of that.
We get the car repacked and head back up the road just as the first raindrops begin to pelt the windshield. We begin to talk as we drive about our escapades in the woods ..... about how each of us feels about what we had done. I tell you how nervous I am knowing how out of character each and every step of the way had been for me. You just smile .... I think it warms your heart to think that you were responsible for pushing me to greater freedoms than I have ever known before.
I press you to find out if my behaviour made you re-think this relationship. "Are you sure that you still want me in your life??" I ask ... knowing that you should never ask a question unless you are prepared to hear the answer.
You turn your head slowly, an incredulous look passes over your face. "I cannot believe you are worried about that! I was the one asking for everything you did!" You reach to take my hand in yours, and I feel like I could fly.
We continue to talk - - - about topics from large to small and everything in between. The miles fly by ..... I sing to the radio (off-key, as I am wont to do on occasion) and you tolerate it well. Suddenly, I realize that we are on an off-ramp.
"Where are we going?" I ask, not recognizing any of the small town signs.
"Don't you worry your pretty little head .... it's a surprise," you answer with a devilish twinkle in your eye. The rain is now falling in sheets, but you continue on into this little tiny town with one main street. At the end of the street, a large, Victorian-style house looms - - - the sign at the road reads "Bed and Breakfast". I begin to giggle. Now I know!! You pull into the modest driveway and find a place to park. We exit the car and make a break for the huge front porch. We still end up soaked anyway.
Entering the lavish front door, we are greeted by a pleasant-looking woman.
"Hello!" she smiles, "and welcome! Please, come in out of the rain!"
"Do you have any rooms left?" you ask in a hopeful tone.
"Why, yes. As a matter of fact, we have one room left," and she turns on her heels and skurries toward a large oak desk in the middle of the foyer. A computer sits on the desk, and she proceeds to ask you the pertinent questions to get us registered, and as you drone on, I roam about what would have been a sitting room had this been someone's home. I wander far enough to find the living area, complete with a roaring fireplace. The rain has cooled the air so much that a small fire has been built therein, and there are several guests snuggled about the room on beautiful vintage furniture. It is so cozy.
I am admiring the artwork upon one wall when you walk up behind me and wrap your arms around me. You put your face in my hair and say, "We're all checked in. Our room is ready, and there is a whirlpool and a fireplace up there. We even have a balcony. I will go get the bags ... here is our key ... you go on up and unlock the room. The owner says that dinner is at 7."
