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The Beginning of The End- Part Two - Our Life Together

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Part Two: Our Life Together The chair ripped apart. We laughed together, as she slipped through the chair and hit the floor. I held her hand and helped her up. "Well?" I asked. "Well what?" "Will you marry me?" "You were serious?" She asked. "Do you think I would joke about asking you to marry me?" "Michael! You're serious? Oh yes! Yes! Yes, I will marry you." We spent the night in that barren house. I handed her a glass of champagne, "I love you." I whispered. We kissed, slid to the floor, pushed the broken chair out of the way, and pulled the only blanket we had over us. ************************ "Mike, what is wrong with you?" Johnny asked? "What?" "I was trying to turn up this circuit you wired. It took me two hours to figure out you wired it completely wrong!" "I'm sorry, Johnny. I don't know what I was thinking." "I know what's wrong! You're in love with that little Hungarian girl, aren't you?" I smiled. "Yup! I guess I am." My thoughts were only about her. Everything else suffered. ******************** Georgia and I sat at our picnic table. We were camping. A pair of pewter goblets, filled with wine, sat in front of us. Two men passed by followed by their children. Theywere headed to the shore to gather mussels for their dinner. One of the men looked at us and saw the goblets. "You're either just or almost." he said. He had no idea how right he was. Yes, we were almost married. The smile on our faces and the goblets were sure signs. ******************** My future mother-in-law suffered with cancer. She and my future father-in-law lived hundreds of miles from us. I only met them once before our marriage, but it was obvious, I would have no need for mother-in-law jokes. I loved her the minute I met her. He was different. He'd been through a lot in his life. Hungarians were forced to fight for the Nazi regime. Crossing a bridge one night, he was shot in the abdomen and spent the rest of the war in a hospital. They moved to Canada during the Hungarian revolution. With two young girls in tow, they crossed the heavily guarded border into Austria and immigrated to a country they knew little about. Mom, as I felt comfortable in calling my mother-in-law, suffered with cancer for many years. Although it was in remission, she knew her time was short. During one visit, as we left their hotel room on the night before their departure, I glanced back to see her standing in the hall. Tears rolled down her cheeks, as she stared after us. Her look of sorrow brought tears to my eyes and a lump in my throat. I knew what she thought, "Will this be the last time I see my daughter?" I stopped Georgia, "Wait a moment." I walked the short distance to mom and hugged her tight. "Mom," I whispered. "You hang in there. Come back for the wedding. I want you here." *************************** The day of the wedding was hectic but joyous. Georgia and I stood face-to-face as we said our vows. There was a tremble in my voice as I said mine. After we were pronounced man and wife, I hugged my bride, took her arm, and walked her down the aisle and into our future. My mother-in-law said later, "I could hear it in your voice. I knew you meant every word you said. I prayed for this moment. I wanted to live long enough to see Georgia settled." I hugged her. "Mom, I'm so glad you are here, but you have to hang on. There will be grandchildren. You can't miss them." She hugged me back. "Michael, I'm very happy. All I ever wanted, was to see Georgia settled. Today saw it happen. I can go in peace." "You'll see them, Mom." She looked at me doubtfully. "I'm happy now. I don't expect to see grandchildren." I reached out, pulled her to me, and whispered in her ear. "Mom, you will. I just know it." After the ceremonies, Georgia and I left for our hotel. I opened the door to our suite, lifted my new wife in my arms, and turned to the door. It closed softly in our faces. I put her down, reopened it, picked her up again, and turned in time to watch it close once more. I propped the door open with a trash can. I lifted her in my arms, turned and watched the heavy door push the trash can aside and close again. A small crowd had gathered. They stood at their doors and watched with smiles on their faces, as I failed time-after-time. "Michael! Never mind! Let's go in!" Georgia said. She was embarrassed by the attention. "Hun, it's my duty to carry you across the threshold, damn it! I'm going to do it." She stood alone. I reentered the room, slid a heavy chair against the door, and returned to Georgia. I picked her up and carried her into the room. Those gathered, cheered and clapped. The door closed a final time. The clamor in the hall dimmed. I took my wife into my arms and into my life. ************************** Thirteen months after our wedding, I stood at Georgia's side. She gripped my hand and moaned. "It hurts." "Hang in there, Hun. It will end soon." A contraction rippled pain through her body. "Breath!" I yelled. "Breath! Puff, puff, puff, puffff!" She slapped at me. "Stop blowing in my face!" I backed off. "Mr. Smith, the head is crowning. Come see." the nurse said. I took a quick look. "Yup, that's a head alright." I retreated back to Georgia's side. The nurse handed my daughter to me. "Georgia," I looked down at my exhausted wife. "We have our Vanessa. She's beautiful! Thank you." My tears dripped on our new baby and caused it to cry. "You gave birth to a beautiful baby girl." I handed the baby to her. The nurse helped her adjust the baby to her breast. Georgia cuddled Vanessa in her arms, as Vanessa suckled for the first time. Georgia looked up at me, "That wasn't so bad! I think I could do it again." I could only cry. She had been through so much, but she was still committed to having two children. Georgia's parents arrived a few weeks later. Mom held her new granddaughter all day long. She refused to let her go. Time was short for mom. She would not miss this only opportunity. Mom died six months later, but she got to see her first grandchild. Two and a half years later, Georgia did do it again. We had a fine young son. Too Be Continued……. Michael T. Smith