Read to yourself—it’s intimate.
By now you’re sitting in the middle of the lake, soaking up the warmth of the sun. Notice how the sky is clear and the breeze floats over the lake to cool your skin like a kiss. It’s easy to see the shore on a day like today—tall trees reflect off the surface of the lake while the green hills in the distance rise up out of the earth. Hold this peace in your heart—breathe it in.
Now know that Monday calls for severe thunderstorms. The lake area, so clear at this moment, will be covered with dark, ominous clouds filled with cold, bittersweet rain. Still—the same rain and wind that blinds the sailor and makes the vessel toss and tip also feeds the flowers and animals and humanity with the fresh water that carries life.
You can’t have one without the other.
But remember, when your vision is obscured and you can’t see your way home to shore, it will pass—it will become clear again, you won’t ever stay lost for long. And I swear I’ll hold your hand through each storm, and even when you’re furious with me and don’t want to touch me, my sorry-ass apology will be like that life preserver around your chest, holding your head above water and hugging your heart.
Thanks for forgiving me.
Large, full tears tumble down my cheeks. I can feel all of the boating party—including Coors—staring at me, but I can’t bring myself to look back at them yet. I fill my lungs with the sweet fresh air around me and add being greatly poetic to my fiancé’s many incredible skills.
We all sit quietly for a little while, and no one interrupts my thoughts. Once we’ve finished our beers, Coors brings us back to shore.
When we reach the docks, he ties the boat and then helps us get sure footing again.
“One more.” he says and gives me a new Ziploc baggie with another envelope protected inside.
I read the contents without hesitation. “Take taxi to Vanhorn Metal Works.”
***
The wide, handsome knotty pine barn doors are open, allowing the outside air in to cool the area where large fires burn in rugged stone fireplaces.
It’s empty but for a couple blacksmiths working.
Britt croons, “Nothing turns me on more than a guy pounding iron.”
Quinn and I smile.
One guy is welding while the other is hammering down a large plate-like shield—the guy’s arms the size of Thor’s.
We stand there, a bit awkward, until Thor notices us and waves us over closer.
“You must be the North party,” he states. “Which one of you is the bride-to-be?”
“That would be her.” Britt points a thumb at me. “I, however, am available.”
Quinn and I barely keep from busting up.
I swear Thor undresses Britt with his eyes. “Good to know.”
And it’s obvious she enjoys every second of it.
When he tears his eyes away, he looks back at me. “I have something special for you from Josh.” Then he points to the wall where protective aprons and eyewear hang.
We get the hint and prepare ourselves. When we’re ready, he indicates for us to come closer and watch what he’s doing.
He sets the shield thing aside, walks over to the fire and removes a solid bar of iron that’s so violently hot it glows. He sets it over a thick iron cylinder and begins to hammer—hard and precise.
Every few minutes his eyes trail up to Britt. She rewards each look with a flirtatious gesture.
The iron bends and comes alive. Tiny chips flake off, and soon a slender decorative rod appears. He flattens the tip almost effortlessly, rotates the rod, and now the tip is a flat circle. He continues to work it until, magically, a delicate calla lily appears.
I look to Quinn and Britt and back again. It’s flawless. And he created it with a hammer!
He changes his tool to a smaller spike-headed hammer and carefully adds dimension and detail. After he’s satisfied with it, he uses a steel brush to smooth it out.
“Beautiful,” Britt says.
“I appreciate that,” he replies. “I was thinking the same about you.”
When he looks away she wraps her fingers around my arm in a Kung-Fu grip. She’s swooning.
Thor puts the iron flower to the side to cool then leads us to the other side of the barn where the retail shop is. Amazing works of iron decorate every square inch. He goes over behind the register counter and hands me a large box wrapped in golden paper.
I bite my lip in anticipation. “What has Josh done now?”
Britt starts talking to Thor while Quinn browses the shop. I take the quiet moment to step outside.
The sun is going down. I take a seat on a wood and iron bench perched in the grass and lift the flap of the gold envelope on top.
You watched the blacksmith create his art. Pretty fucking amazing, right? Sometimes I think of you that way—like a nearly indestructible piece of iron who was beat down for most of her life. But instead of allowing it to break you, you became the most exquisite bloom. I’m so proud of who you are.
Now check out what’s in the box.