Proposal (The Mediator, #6.5)

“Is that what upset you about my proposing?” he asked, the corners of his lips twisted upwards. “Where I got the ring?”

“I can’t understand it,” I said. “I thought we didn’t have secrets from one another. Well, not real secrets.” I had secrets, plenty of them, but only the kind that would hurt instead of help. I would take them to my grave—-well, cremation urn—-before I’d tell him about them. I didn’t want him to turn into a murderer like Mark had almost been. “Where did you get it?”

“Oh, Susannah,” he said, and pulled me close, then kissed the top of my head. “Why didn’t you say so?”

“I’m saying so now. The only ring I know of you owning was the one you gave your last fiancée, Maria.” I didn’t like saying the name any more than Mark had liked saying Zack’s. “But that was back in the 1800s, and you never got it back, because you ended up here . . . or murdered and a ghost, whichever parallel universe you care to believe is the right one. Unlike my stepbrother David, I don’t really enjoy thinking about that kind of thing. Either way, you never ended up with your mother’s precious ring.”

“Ah,” he said, and reached into the pocket of his jeans. “But I did. And do you want to know how I did?”

“Not really.” I was feeling sick to my stomach. I wasn’t sure if it was from the sight of the ring, having been rammed so hard in the gut by a murderous high school boy, or not having eaten anything since lunch except radishes. “But I guess I asked.”

“Father Dominic found it for sale on something called eBay. There. Are you happy? Now will you marry me?”

I stared at him, aware that my mouth was probably hanging open, but unable to close it. I couldn’t do anything, really, but stare at him. “What?”

“EBay,” Jesse repeated. “It’s a website where -people go to buy and sell almost any—-”

“I know what eBay is,” I said. “I just . . . how did . . . how could Father Dom have—-”

“Apparently he goes on there a lot. Father Dominic is very fond of the Internet. And he’s been doing searches in my name for some time, looking for items that might have come from my family. He did one not long ago, and the ring popped up. There was a letter with it, too, you see, which is how he knew—-”

“Letter? What letter?”

Now he began to look slightly uncomfortable. “It was a letter from my mother to our local parish priest. As you know, my family never knew what happened to me after I . . . disappeared. According to this letter my mother refused to believe the rumors that I’d run off because I didn’t want to marry my cousin Maria and had instead gone to seek my fortune in the Gold Rush. My father—-well, I think my father was more inclined to believe the worst of me.”

I winced. Jesse’s father had never supported his only son’s dream of becoming a physician. He’d wanted Jesse to return from Carmel with Maria, his bride, and take over the family ranch.

But that had never been going to happen in any universe.

“Oh, Jesse,” I said. “I’m so sorry.”

“It’s all right, actually. My parents got the ring back—-evidently there was some awkwardness over it, since Maria, too, believed she’d been stood up at the altar.”

I winced again. I was the one responsible for Maria being stood up twice—-once by Jesse, and then by the guy with whom she was two--timing Jesse. I’d be glad never to cross paths with her again.

“But she acquiesced in the end. And my mother ended up leaving the ring with our parish priest, along with the letter, saying that no matter what the reason for my disappearance, she forgave me. She wanted to make sure I knew that, Susannah. That’s why she left the ring—-and the letter—-with the priest, and not my father or any of my sisters. She knew my father would burn the letter, or order my sisters to, as well, if he ever learned of them having it. But he could not order the priest to. The priest would keep it—-and her secret—-forever. And he did—-at least until he, too, died, and the ring and letter passed down through many other priests who kept my mother’s secret until at last the diocese folded. Then it must have fallen into the hands of whoever was trying to sell it online . . . and finally into those of one who knew what to do with it, Father Dominic.”

I’d continued to keep my arms wrapped around his waist during the entirety of this speech. But now I simply couldn’t stand it anymore. I dropped my arms and took a step away from him, allowing the cold wind to seep in between us.

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