The Evening Dew

Story

It was the only time of day, such as he evening, that she would step outside and stretch. She would smile up at the stars, light a candle on the porch, grab some coffee and her notebook, and write. At this time the crickets were chirping and the moon light bounced off the lake and straight onto her paper, giving her such light to work. Her coffee, she would sip gradually while thinking of what to write. Often she wrote diary entries, but if she was having a good day she might write full stories.

Yes, her life was revolved around this thing she did each evening. It was the only thing that gave her company. Never had she had any family, or a special someone, to tend to. Her company were her stories. She wrote of friends, murder mysteries, and family troubles. She pictured the perfect people that she had always wanted to know, but never will.

As tonight was not only a special night, it was the Fourth of July. The beautiful lights above her gave her so many creative story ideas. And she couldn't keep from writing them down, even before grabbing her Carmel coffee.

_

To take it a step further was not something she intended of doing. As her coffee was made and lantern lit, she grabbed a chair and struggled to carry it down the porch steps and onto the dew grass. Her bars feet hit he grass and the sudden wet wove between her toes. The grass tickled the lines on her feet. She stretched her legs and walked out by the water.

Just next door they were holding a party. A Bon fire was lit and sparklers were being lit and ran around the grass. There were light screams of laughter. Parents talking of children's grades, and older ones splashing in the water. She smelled a light scent of s'mores, and immediently wished that she would be invited over.

Just before sitting down onto the chair that was leaning up against the grass, she felt a light touch on her shoulder. Turning around she remembered seeing him, but something was very different. Something she couldn't place her finger on.

"Hi, I see your my neighbor. Would you like to come over for a Fourth of July party?"

Her mouth was stuck on words to say. Had this man just invited her to a party? Her first party in decades? She was stuck on the idea and completely forgot about answering. He began to walk away before she grabbed his hand.

Her touch was soothing for him. Her warm hands against his cool work hands gave a perfect sensation. He looked up into her eyes for a brief second before she turned away. He never did notice how beautiful she was. Before this he had only saw her leave for work or get mail, and never did she say hello. He always assumed she was not a person to talk. Maybe he was wrong?

He made her follow him next door where she received plenty of hugs. Many asked her name and others asked if she would like s'mores. She nodded, happily agreeing, happy that her wish was becoming true.

As she was seated next to the warm fire, he looked at her, her face glowing in the light. Her freckles seeming more and more beautiful then ever before. Her tan face looked like magic, and suddenly he wondered her name.

She caught him looking, and began to stare at the side of his head. He had rusty brown hair and a clear, perfect, face. But was his name just as perfect as his looks?

"Whatever is your name?" he asked, interrupting her thoughts. She looked up surprised, had he just asked her name?"

"Um, Rose. Whatever is yours?"

"Clinton" he said smiling, grabbing a gram cracker and biting in.

She watched his beautifully cut nails hold the cracker, his straight teeth bite in. He watched her play with her hair, watched her face glow in the fire. They didn't know, but every second they were thinking about each other. The other voices around them seemed to have dimmed out, and they were the only two people in the world.

He grabbed her hand, and she brushed it slightly, pulling away. Wrong move, he thought.

"Um, what is that a journal of?"

She eyed him, not wanting to answer, yet wanting to make conversation. This is what your going to have to do, she told herself, give all your secrets away.

"It's just, uh, stories that I write. Nothing interesting."

"I doubt it" he said taking the journal and reading the stories. She watched his facial expressions. His eyebrows frowed, and he smiled, his perfect white teeth showing. "This is beautiful."

"I'm an, uh, side author. I actually published one story, annonously."

"What's the title?"

"Secrets in a Diary."

"That was you?!" he screamed, but he wasn't frowning. Instead, he was smiling, his eyes twinkled in the moonlight. "I love that story!"

She didn't know what took over her. She leaned in, and suddenly their lips pressed together. His sweet minty taste, her chocolate taste. Perfectly combined.

"Oh, I'm sorry" she said, standing up and gathering her things. "Wrong thing to do."

"No" he said, leaning in and kissing her again. She dropped her things as they kissed some more.

The next day she went out to her car, ready to leave for work. It was a Monday morning, the sun shining and the birds chirping. Her flip flops clipped every time she stepped.

She wondered if whatever happened last night meant anything. Would they go on with their separate ways or continue making a life with each other?

"Hey" called a voice. She looked up to see him running to her, his face expressions were minimal. She wondered what was wrong. "Last night, was perfect."

She nodded, just as he bent down and smiled at her. Then, he pulled out a tiny black box.

"I hope this isn't too soon, but I really like you, and I know that your the one. Would you marry me?"

Never had she been so excited to answer someone in her life.

The priests words echoed within the small church she grew up going to. But nobody was paying attention to the priest, or the pianoist. Everyone's eyes were turned to see the bride, walking down the isle, in a white flowy dress.

He smiled as she walked down the isle, with a beautiful smile on her lips. He remembered the first time he spoke to her, which was just yesterday. He was so happy he was getting married to this beautiful woman.

Just as she reached him, he couldn't tear his eyes away. She couldn't either, for they had both been waiting for his day.

"Clinton Forez, do you take this woman in front of you as your wife?"

"I do."

"Rose Mau, do you take this man in front of you as your husband?"

"I do."

"Now with the power invested in me, I pronounce you, husband and wife."

And for the last time...they leaned in, pressed their lips together, and kissed. His sweet mint taste, and hers tasted of chocolate, the perfect combination. The perfect combination of love.

_

The next day she awoke, expecting to see her new husband laying by her side. But, no one was beside her. Maybe he was up making breakfast? She quietly got up and made her way to the kitchen, but no one was in there either. Instead she found her journal, open to a specific page.

She read the story she had written just a day ago over, and suddenly sank down in he chair she was sitting in.

As he went out to get the mail, expecting himself to wave to his next door neighbor, but he didn't. Instead he walked out, hoping to actually speak to her.

And she sat there, writing in her journal for the rest of the day. And he sat there, eating s'mores at the fire, both wishing someone was by there side.