We have always wanted a house like this, a house that would one day become a home. A house we could call our own to welcome guests and children alike. But nothing felt right, until now. It was coming up on our 4th anniversary, and Marc was looking for the perfect gift for me, his beautiful bride, as he often called me.
He often woke early just to watch me sleep. I know this because I have caught him on several occasions. But then I am guilty of this as well, and my thoughts are always the same: how did I get so lucky to find such a great lover. Brown eyes have always weakened me, and his were no different.
When I did awake to his watchful gaze, I would ask him what was wrong. He would reply, "I was just wondering how I got so lucky as to have found such a wonderfully beautiful woman!" If he was still in bed, I would scoot closer and snuggle into his arms, falling back to sleep. If he wasn't close, I simply smiled, closed my eyes, and fell back to sleep, leaving him to his thoughts. I assume it was during one of those times that he began thinking of my perfect anniversary gift.
That was four years ago, but it seems like it was yesterday. And to recount that special day always brings a smile to my lips, as it will this time as I recount it for you.
Marc told me we were going for a drive, but no matter how much I asked, he would not tell me where. All he did was smile, reveling in his secret.
It seemed that we had driven forever when we finally reached the lake we would go to occasionally. But we did not stop as I had expected but drove past it a ways and pulled onto a dirt road that ran along side it. After several twists and turns, we turned onto a driveway and up to a house. The path was lined with ash trees that had been there for some time.
"What are we doing here?" I asked repeatedly but got no answer.
Finally a house came into view, which looked to have been well kept. There was a car out front with a woman leaning against it. When she saw us, she straightened up, smiled, and slowly came closer to where we parked.
As I looked at Marc, all he did was smile before getting out of the car. I quickly followed suit and got out of the car, hurrying to catch up.
"Marc?" I called again, but he had already reached the woman. When I reached them, Marc turned to me, wrapping his arm around my waist and introduced me to the woman. She was a real estate agent and was here to show us this house. He had called her a week ago to set up a time to meet and take a look at the place, inside and out. Or that's what he told me.
"So shall we step inside?" the woman said, displaying the house like one of those game show models.
"Yes lets," Marc said. He gently pushed my lower back toward the house because at the moment, I could not take my eyes off the view of the lake and also because he was really anxious for me to see the one room that he knew I would fall in love with. It is in that room where I am writing this now.
As we stepped onto the porch, I suspected that it went all the way around the house. When we entered and made our way to the kitchen, my suspicions were confirmed as I looked out the bay window. But I'm getting a bit ahead of myself. Let me back up. The front entrance was a set of beautiful double doors like the ones on the Brady Bunch. The house itself was a dark blue, but the doors were powder blue, with stainless-steel glass engraved in the center. They were absolutely beautiful. The door knobs were silver. Anyway, we walked into a spacious foyer with marble floors. To the right was a table with a flower arrangement sitting on it.
"Lilies, my favorite," I said smiling, as I walked over and cupped one gently in my palm, smelling its aroma. The aroma filled the air as I inhaled once more before refocusing on Marc and the real estate agent.
We walked through the living room, and I noticed the fireplace and mantel, as well as the mirror with candles on each side. They were lit for effect. Wow, I thought, this agent really knows how to sell a place!
When as we got to the dining room, I opened the big glass doors to look out. I think that was the moment when I fell in love with the house. From the porch you could see the lake. I stepped out and looked at the big, well-manicured back yard.
"Who ever had this home and property before did a great job caring for it."
"The owner," the agent interrupted, "bought the property when they were beginning to build around here. He liked it because it was away from what he called 'civilization and interruptions.' He liked his privacy when he was not working. But when they started building out here, he set up the privacy wall and bushes so he could keep his solitude intact."
I laughed at the description she gave of the previous owner because it matched Marc to a tee.
"Did I say something funny?" she asked, looking at each of us in turn.
"No," I said looking back at the woman, "it's just that the man you described sounds exactly like Marc. He's not one for people either." I reached out and touched his arm lightly. "He likes his privacy when he's not working too."
Suddenly Marc cleared his throat, interrupting my thought.
"So, are you ready to see the rest of the home?" the agent asked, trying to continue the tour.
"Absolutely," Marc said, knowing that if he did not jump in, I would continue talking, and we would never see the rest of the place...the rest of our place.
Before long we were walking up the spiral staircase to the second floor.
"Oh my, this is beautiful!" I said, as I continued to marvel at the beauty of the home. The previous owners had definitely put a lot of time and love into this place when they decorated, and it was quite evident as we walked through the house.
Because there were never children born to this couple, the second bedroom had been converted to a library, complete with book-lined shelves. I was awe-struck: the books were still there!
Marc must have known how amazed I would be when I saw this room, because it was then, I think, that he slipped away. I had simply gotten lost in the enormous collection of books the previous couple had enjoyed. So absorbed was I in looking at the titles of all the books they had found interesting that I never noticed him leave.
Before long I felt a hand on my shoulder as his voice softly filled my ears.
"It's time to come home from the library," Marc joked as I refocused on him.
"Humm, what?" I said, now aware of where I was.
"I said it's time to come home from the library," he repeated as he slowly took the fragile book from my hand and set it on the table.
Within seconds I was smelling the aromas that were coming from somewhere in the house. But I had not figured out where.
He then led me from the library into the bedroom, which had been romantically set with candlelight, roses, and the sound of a soft, low sax playing. Soon the smell of food lofted from the adjoining kitchenette. I just stood there shocked and amazed, and it was at that moment I knew he had been here before.
It is not often that I am speechless, but at that moment I had no words. All I could do was cry. "This is so beautiful, but..." I began to say, when his fingers touched my lips, silencing me.
"It's ours," he said softly with a bright glow in his eyes. Then as he handed me a fluke of champaign, he added, "I wanted to surprise you. Happy anniversary, darling."
I just smiled as I took the fluke from him. We toasted to our new home, our happiness, and our continued love for one another.
It was an anniversary never to be forgotten.
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