Interest

The event continued each evening. A week passed. Then a month. And Staci continued to appear to propose to me each evening. I couldn't understand how she managed to endure that much pain and rejection. But every night she appeared, hoping I would say yes and leaving each night with her heart ripped apart by my refusal.

Her friends begged her to stop and to salvage what little pride she had and start over away from our hometown. She continued to ignore them. Then a few brave souls approached me and suggested that I stop dining at the country club so to put an end to the farce. I ignored them.

Night after night it continued. One change was that I never took another date to dinner at the club. I could at least manage to keep the conflict just on the two of us and not subject anyone else to the spectacle.

It was on a Friday evening and I was waiting. By now the initial clamor from mine and Staci's little drama tableau had settled into a lethargic acceptance by the crowd. Many began to not notice Staci's hopeful arrivals and sad departures.

There she was right on time, still taking care to dress up for the occasion and still hoping against hope that she could persuade me to change my mind. She walked over and began her well-practiced kneeling when I raised my hand to stop her from lowering herself.

"Staci, this marks a year since you've been back and proposing to me to marry you. Every night I say no and yet you keep coming back. How long are you going to keep doing this?"

It was evident that she was flustered from the change of the ritual. But, she recovered and said, "Troy, I'm going to keep coming here every night and propose to you in hope that you finally accept that we belong together. And it doesn't matter if it happens tonight, or tomorrow or whether it happens years from now. I will do everything I can to make up for the mistake of not accepting your proposal."

The heartfelt response resonated with her sincerity.

"You know your batting average really sucks at this."

She ignored my futile attempt to interject levity into the situation.

"All I have to do is be right one time and then both you and I can spend the rest of our lives batting 1,000."

"Look, Staci, I haven't had as much practice at this as you have, but perhaps I can do better."

Before it registered with her, I had slid out of my chair and I was kneeling before her. My hand went into my pocket and gripped the object.

Now as it sunk in Staci cried, "Oh my God! OH MY GOD, TROY!!"

Tears of joy sprung from her eyes and her hands went unbelieving to her mouth as I opened the jewelry box and presented the ring for her view.

"Staci Ellen Buckman"

"Yes!" She screamed.

"Will you-"

"Yes!!"

"marry-"

"Yes!! Yes!! Yes!!"

"me?"

"Yes! Yes! Yes! Oh my God, yes, I'll marry you!"

She pulled me to my feet in a display of adrenalin rush and held me close and kissing me as the room erupted into wild applause. She was sobbing in my ear, "Thank you, Troy! Thank you for making me so happy!"

Somehow, despite holding on to me fiercely, I managed to get the ring on her finger, which brought on another round of smouldering kisses.

I didn't think it was possible to persuade her to unclench from me, but eventually her girlfriends who were present had got her away from me as they ohhed and awwed over the ring. And, of course, began promptly planning for the wedding.

I took Thomas Clark aside and told him to put everybody's bill on my tab. Yeah, even for that bastard, Fred Carter. I also told him to break out that rare bottle of cognac I had inherited when I took over all of Charles Buckman's assets. It was time I polished off the bottle with a toast shared with my bride to be.

It was time to start letting go of the past.

***************************

I watched her as she zeroed in on me like an unsteady kamikaze. She clutched in her hands a large yellow-reddish object. I tried to prepare myself in the event she chose to hurl the object at me at close range trying to anticipate the trajectory of where it would hit my body.

Instead she reached out to have me take the item from her.

"Peace!" she proudly announced.

"Peach!" I corrected her. I emphasized the "ch" to distinguish to her how to pronounce the fruit.

She nodded with the assurance of a three year old and repeated, "peace!" With that chore completed she turned around and waddled back toward the waiting bushel baskets full of the ripe, succulent fruit. If history repeated itself, I would soon be the recipient of another peach in a few short moments.

I felt and softly squeezed the peach in my hand and sniffed it. It was ripe, ready to be devoured. I doused the fuzzy fruit in the pail of watery ice which had been utilized to hold the few longneck bottles of beer I rewarded myself with for completing the harvest.

Then, using a pocketknife I began to half, then quarter the fruit, and removed the peach pit. Then I cut it into smaller sections so Karen, my child would be able to enjoy the tasty treat. True to form, Karen returned with another peach and held it out to me, "Peace, Daddy!" She demanded.

Next to me, the love of my life started laughing at us. I looked over at Staci and smiled at her before returning my attention back to Karen.

"Peach!" I repeated to correct her as I handed her a small wedge of the fruit. Her eyes gleamed as she tasted the fruit and pulp and juice smeared her face. Somehow, she always managed to leave the skin uneaten which would be deposited on my shirt.

"Don't feed her too much, it is too close to suppertime," Staci reminded me.

"I won't, Honey," I said as I took the opportunity to swig down another gulp of the Nectar Of The Gods and the cold amber liquid slid down my throat.

"And no more beers or you'll be totally useless while I r-a-v-i-s-h you tonight."

"Honey. She's three years old. She has no idea what that word means." I reminded Staci.

"It never is too early to get in the habit. I don't want her to blurt out a word. She has no business repeating in public!"

"Okay, I see your point. But as long as I get to keep eating your peach, you can have one of mine." I handed her a peach slice as a mischievous grin appeared on her face.

"I intend to let you eat my peach all night long," she smiled tantalizingly.

"Just remember. I got to unload these baskets at the Farmer's Market early in the morning."

"Troy, that means we need to get an early start tonight so you can be ready to go in the morning!"

The leering look on her face told me she had plans for me in the morning as well.

"But, to help you out, call up one of those kids you hired as helping hands and delegate him to do that chore for you tomorrow, I think something is going to crop up and will need our undivided attention."

I smiled back and then looked back at the acreage that consisted of our residence. When we married, I was content to remain at the bank building, but Staci was adamant that she wasn't going to raise a family in a bank building.

I called my old family friend, Mrs. Fuller. She had gotten to the age where it was difficult to tend to her farm. Add the fact that her daughter was insisting that she move out west to live with her. End result; I purchased the Fuller's farm and a couple of other tracts of land that would allow me to be fully occupied as a gentleman farmer, but not overwhelmed by the task.

For all my commercial enterprises, I had good managers overlooking my assets and I continued to supervise to make sure the engine ran efficiently. That no longer took every waking second of the day.

I soon settled into learning about crop rotations, irrigation, and pest control. Staci, was hard at work renovating our new homestead and it wasn't long when she informed me of the need to remake one of the rooms a nursery.

Karen came into our lives and any lingering doubts either of us had about our marriage was instantly swept away. Ironically, our happiness was the source of a lot of irritation of the locals that had observed our trials and tribulations up close. They couldn't understand why I was willing to marry a girl that had rejected me. And they couldn't understand why Staci would marry me after I rejected her.

I could write an entire encyclopedia trying to get people to understand our reasoning and feelings or I can simply sum it up that I love her and she loves me and we finally caught ourselves at the right time.

I sleep well. I am not haunted by the ghosts of my parents. Why should they haunt me? They only wanted the best for me and that finally happened. I am not haunted by the specter of Charles Buckman. He can not hurt me or Staci anymore so it is of no consequence. Likewise, with David Porter and Janet.

The only person that can hurt me is Staci and in my heart I know that isn't going to happen again. The lessons we learned were painful and at a frightful cost and dearly bought and dearly cherished.

The sudden epiphany I got as I watched Karen bring yet another peach for me struck home in its simplicity.

Karen crawled into my lap and with all the God given innocence in her eyes looked into mine as she handed the fruit to me.

"Peace, Daddy!"

I gave her a kiss, "Peace." I agreed.