The Power of Love

Word Count: 1000



The advantage of having a tryst in a graveyard is pretty obvious—you are almost certainly going to be alone.  I couldn’t argue the point with Will. I loved him and wanted to see him.  But in a graveyard?                     

He had insisted it would be fine. All I needed to do was sneak out my back door, and go through the little patch of woods behind my house and walk to the cemetery.  He’d be waiting for me.

I don’t think I would have been scared—if only he’d just stopped there.  But no, he had to go on about how when he was about ten, he and his friends had found a finger—or more correctly, what was left of one—in front of a small tomb, topped by a weeping angel.  He told me in an excited voice about how they’d sent someone off for the police, while the remaining gang kept a vigilant watch on the digit. 

I had thought about asking him why.  I mean, what did they think it was going to do?  Try and escape?  But, from the animated expression on his face, and the way he flung his hands around as he dramatized the tale even more, it seemed really important to him.  And I decided not to ruin his moment.

In the end, I agreed to it.  But I took some extra precautions.  First, I made sure I had on my best, cleanest underwear—just in case we ended up be attacked by something, and actually made it to the hospital alive.  Then I rummaged through my jewelry box until I located the gold crucifix my Aunt Mary Margaret (my mom’s sister, the Sister) had given my after my confirmation.  While I wasn’t particularly religious, I figured it couldn’t hurt.

I yawned all through dinner, ignored my sixteen year-old brother’s jabs, and announced that I was too tired to watch a video—even though it was ‘Family Night’.  Dad frowned and made some inaudible comment.  But as I was bringing the dishes to Mom at the dishwasher, I made some vague reference about cramps and a headache.  She nodded understandingly, and said she’d deal with my dad.  Then she told me to take two extra-strength Tylenol and take the heating pad and go to bed.

YES!

I went upstairs, making sure that I clunked around my bedroom, which was directly over the living room, slamming drawers and stomping back and forth to the bathroom.  Then I snapped off the light, jumped on my bed.

I waited until I was sure they were well into their movie, grabbed my key.  Then I slipped down the stairs, through the kitchen and out the back door.  I stood on the back step.  I could see the shadows of my family through the curtains.  And when no one seemed to have heard anything—no one moved—I moved carefully through the back yard.

I was lucky.  A large cloud had hidden the moon just as I was on the step.  So, I was able to get to the woods in near darkness.  The cloud slid on, revealing the brilliance of the full moon.  It was easy for me to find my way to the prearranged spot by the weeping angel.

Will was nowhere in sight, but I found a blanket spread out in front of the tomb.  There was a large bouquet of roses, with a card with my name on it.  Off to one side, was an open picnic basket containing a bottle of wine, a corkscrew and real wineglasses. 

I sat on the blanket and looked at the little angel crying over me.  She was a sweet little thing—but sad. 

“Hey Lynn,” Will call as he came around a tombstone.  He was carrying several pillows and a tiny box. 

He tossed the pillows down and gave me a very nice kiss.  But he stuck the little box in the basket when he took out the corkscrew and wine.

“I had to go back.  Sorry I was late.”  He pulled the cork from the bottle.  She held up the glasses for him to fill.  Then he shoved the cork back into bottle, tucked in the basket and raised his glass.

“I wanted this night to be very special.  I know when we started college, we said we could date other people.  I thought about it.  I even tried.  But it was no good.  I’ve never met anyone like you. 

“And even though we’re still young, I love you.”

I had started crying almost as soon as he began speaking, but when he said he loved me I broke down completely.  Between sobs, I managed to whisper, “I love you, too.”

“Lynn,” he stammered.  “I thought you’d be happy.”  He pulled what I think was a napkin from the basket and began dabbing at me. 

But he must have also pulled out the little box.  “Will you marry me—eventually?”  He flipped it open and held out for me to see.  It was a beautiful ring.  True, the diamond was barely noticeable…but still.

I took the napkin from him, and really tried to stop crying.  “Of course I’ll marry you.” 

I reached over and touched his cheek.  And for a minute, I thought he was going to cry. Then he pulled me to him.  I’m not sure what happened after that.  I’m pretty sure the wineglasses got knocked over. 

It was very late when we came up for air.  And we knew we had to leave.  He gathered everything up into the basket, while I folded the blankets.  Then, with one more kiss, we each went our separate ways.

I looked back, at the tomb and the little angel.  But she wasn’t weeping anymore.  Her hands were definitely different—for one covered her eyes, while the other covered her mouth.  And she somehow looked pinker now.  But that must have been a trick of the moonlight.  But that had to be my imagination, didn’t it?