Bridges

“Baby, I know your knees hurt but you gotta keep them together,” Jonah coached from the corral’s split-rail fence. I was nervous but Sugar was beautiful. The majestic chestnut from the brochure trotted right up to me when I got out of the car.

Jonah’s smile was amazing. Watching him, watching me, we were luminous.

“Okay,” the guide hollered. “You look great. Now it’s time to hit the trail,”

Once in the saddle, my fear dissipated, like I’d rode horses all my life. Jonah was on a majestic paint next to me. We passed the old Hammer estate which supposedly had a hidden room to house runaway slaves on their way to Free Canada, a room to hide those looking to live. The antebellum house was constructed of hand-made bricks measuring sixteen-inches deep thus making it impervious to the elements and unaware of the century that had passed. It remained suspended in time. If only this were possible for Jonah and me.

On the way home, Jonah pulled the car over on a rustic bridge over the Skunk River. Silver frost draped the cottonwoods. The water under the bridge was partially frozen allowing only a trickle to glide on toward the mighty Mississippi. We clambered out of the car to watch a pair of red-tail hawks cruise the stream for fish.

“Today is a day for overcoming fears,” Jonah whispered, taking my hand in his.

“Thank you so much for today.”

He smiled. “You’re welcome.”

I glanced up to watch the hawks circle overhead. When I looked back, Jonah was down on his knee.

“Marry me.”

“What?” I jerked my hand nearly knocking the simple and elegant gold ring out of Jonah’s hand.

“If we can do this together … if you stand beside me while I …” his voice quivered and faded.

“Jonah?”

“Will you marry me?”

“Yes!”