“But…?” Ivy questions, leaning into my hand.
“She thought by stalling that somehow she’d fall out of love with my grandpa. He’d lose interest in trying to woo her and he’d settle for someone who would cook and clean for him so he could focus on making his farm a success. Farmers didn’t have time for romance, and that’s what she so desperately wanted.” I can’t stop the tinge of sadness from entering my voice because it wasn’t so long ago that I thought much the same thing.
“But he proved her wrong,” Ivy says, grinning from ear to ear.
“She put him to the test and he passed with flying colors.” I gaze deeply into her eyes, knowing how lucky I am to have found her, how we just seem to understand each other. “One time when he took her to the local soda fountain, his jacket slipped off his stool when he went to order their ice cream floats. When she went to pick it up, the payment book from the jeweler fell out of the pocket. She only glanced at it hurriedly before putting it back, but it didn’t take much for her to put two and two together.”
“Is that why she wasn’t surprised? Because she knew it was coming?” Ivy creases her brow, and I can tell she expected more from my grandma.
“No, it made her feel like she didn’t deserve him,” I admit, lowering my hand onto her shoulder before running it down her back. “She was ashamed of herself for making him think that she had to have a diamond ring on her finger before she’d marry him. When all along he’d been teaching her about the things in life that truly matter. He was always positive. He was always glad to see her. He always celebrated every moment they spent together. Those hundred dates were the greatest gift he could’ve given her. They were more precious than any diamond ring.”
“But he must’ve been disappointed when she didn’t jump up and down when he gave it to her,” Ivy ponders, looking at me for an explanation.
“Even worse. She gave it back,” I remark, a smile tugging at my lips.
“She…what?” Ivy asks as she smacks me lightly on the shoulder.
“She handed it back to him.” I can’t contain my laughter at the shocked expression on Ivy’s face. “She told him that she’d be delighted to marry the finest man she ever met, but she wasn’t going to stand on ceremony. She wanted him to return the ring and get his money back so they could start their life together on the right foot. She said she wouldn’t care if she had to wear a piece of twine tied around her finger if that’s what it would take for her to one day be as selfless and giving as he was.”
“But obviously he didn’t listen to her,” Ivy says, spreading her hand against my chest as we both look down at the ring.
“No, he didn’t,” I smile as she moves her hand until she can feel my heartbeat. “He always liked to spoil her any way he could.”
For a minute, her eyes take on a faraway look, like she’s intensely thinking about something. I start to get worried, but then she scoops up my hand and places it back on her stomach, moving it around until she finds the spot she’s looking for.
“Do you feel that?” she whispers excitedly.
I don’t want to deflate her hope and say, “No,” but I don’t feel a darn thing. But then all of a sudden I feel a thud against my open palm and my eyes dart quickly to hers.
“Is that what I think it is?” I ask, hardly able to believe what I’m feeling.
She nods at me, breathless. “It’s the baby kicking.”
We don’t say anything. We just stare lovingly into each other’s eyes, her hand on my heart, my hand on our baby kicking inside of her.
“Talk about perfect timing,” I muse.
“He or she wants to be a part of this too,” Ivy says, the warmth in her eyes conveying so much.
“I’m so glad you came back,” I whisper, not trusting my voice.
“Me too,” she concurs, snuggling up next to me.
“I can’t wait for our baby to arrive,” I say to her, meaning every word.
“Eric, what were your grandparents’ names?” she asks, seeming to ignore what I just said.
“Natalie and Wallace Marshall,” I relate, wanting to get back to talking about our baby.
“Perfect,” she sighs contentedly.
“For what?” I ask, utterly confused.
“For our baby’s name of course,” she remarks, tapping me lightly on the chest. “If it’s a girl, we’ll call her Natalie, and if it’s a boy, Wally.”
“Then I really hope it’s a girl,” I admit, guiding my hand over her smooth tummy.