Authors: Ada Rome
The winds of a temperate
October night played at the hem of my emerald green ball gown, a one-shouldered
silk dream that cascaded to my ankles in shimmering folds and gathered at my
waist within a circlet of sparkling jewels. My hair swept over my bare shoulder
in a shining fall of lustrous auburn waves.
“Ready, my dear?” Trent
stood beside me, looking impossibly handsome in a black tuxedo, his hair
slicked back from his forehead and a dimple popping into place on his
clean-shaven cheek. I wrapped a hand around his arm and lifted the hem of my
dress as we ascended the steps. My high-heeled sandals clicked onto the smooth
stone.
The art museum blazed
above us in a golden glow like a fairytale castle. Huge banners fluttered in
the wind, announcing the annual awards gala for excellence in the field of
journalism. Trent was to be honored for his work on
KTFO
. The edition
with my cover story had turned out to be the best-selling issue in the
magazine’s history and earned praise across the media spectrum, silencing the
last few grumbles of disapproval surrounding our relationship and restoring at
least a portion of my reputation. I hoped that with time, people would completely
forget the incident with the sex tape and simply view me as a promising
journalist with a solid career ahead of me.
“Hey, I know that
gorgeous couple!”
When we reached the top
of the steps, Marcie and Tony waited at the base of an imposing column
illuminated with spinning floodlights. She looked stunning in a sheath of red
satin. Tony was debonair in a black tux that perfectly matched Trent’s. Other
guests in sparkling finery filed in pairs through the massive gilt-framed doors.
I grasped Marcie’s arm. The four of us followed the tide into the
cathedral-like space of the great entrance hall, bounded on both sides by
stately arches and in front by a glistening marble stairway.
“Mister Montaine, right
this way.” An usher directed us through one of the archways with an elegant
sweeping gesture. We entered a grand ballroom lit with the warm glimmer of
crystal chandeliers and the reflected glint of diamonds and jewels around
wrists and necks. We were seated around a table near the front, just before a
stage lined with lush greenery and a podium draped in red velvet.
“A little fancy pants, if
you ask me.” Marcie leaned over and whispered into my ear. “Do you think they
serve hot dogs?”
“I hope so. I’m starving.
And I could use a nice cold beer too.”
“Excuse me! Waiter!”
Marcie raised a hand and snapped her fingers. I plucked her wrist from the air.
“What?” she said with mock surprise, her jaw hanging open.
“You’re a real jerk
sometimes, Marcie.”
“I know. But you love me
anyway.” She puckered her red lips and threw a smacking kiss in my direction.
“So you say.” I winked at
her as a waiter swept in from the wings and filled our glasses with chardonnay.
“What are you two lovely
ladies discussing?” Trent leaned sideways and placed an arm on the back of my
chair. He reminded me of an old time Hollywood actor with his movie star looks
and graceful charm. Only the tattoo that peeked out of his shirt collar and
curled behind his ear belied the illusion of a modern day Cary Grant or Clark
Gable.
“We were just discussing
ways to class up this joint,” Marcie chirped. She lifted her wine for a toast.
We all clinked glasses.
“To Trent,” I said.
“To Kat,” Trent chimed
in.
“To you two lovebirds who
are in danger of making me barf,” declared Marcie with a flourish and a long
swig of wine.
“To the future,” said
Tony with a wink and a grin.
“To the future indeed.”
Trent placed a hand on my knee and squeezed gently.
The ballroom settled into
a subdued murmur as the awards ceremony began. One heartfelt speech followed
another, each thanking supportive family members and championing journalism’s quest
to uncover the truth. Eventually, Trent was called to the stage. He rose from
his seat, kissed the top of my head, and took his place behind the
velvet-covered podium. Our eyes locked for a charge moment. The entire ballroom
fell away for several seconds. We saw only each other and existed in a world
entirely of our own creation. Then he cleared his throat and faced the
assembled guests.
“As many of you know,
this has been a difficult year for me.” He paused and bowed his head, wrapping
his fingers around the edges of the podium. A titter of recognition swept
through the crowd. “But as many of you may not know, it has also been the best
year of my life.” He glanced at me, the hint of a smile turning up the corners
of his mouth. “This is a room full of writers. We all know that writers hate
clichés. I racked my brain over the past week for a fresh and creative way to
say what I want to say to you tonight. Eventually, I gave up. There is a
certain simple wisdom in even the most tired clichés. The one that I offer you
is this – love conquers all.”
I scanned the room and
spotted a few swift nods. Everyone watched Trent with a rapt attention.
“Six months ago,” he
continued, “I thought that I was in complete control of my life and my destiny.
But, as a very smart young lady soon informed me, I was an idiot.” A wave of laughter
circled the room. Trent caught my eye. “Well, she didn’t use those words exactly.
She did say that complete control is an illusion, and she was absolutely right.
I have lived my life to avoid pain. I ran from the kind of feelings that
sometimes end in great suffering, but also sometimes lead to the greatest joy.
In trying to keep myself balanced and secure, I robbed my life of real happiness.”
He paused and caught my eye again, this time maintaining a piercing stare.
“Thankfully, that smart young lady showed me the error of my ways. I will never
be able to repay her completely, but I will try every day of my life to do so.”
He smiled warmly and turned back to the room. “So, love conquers all. A simple
message with an undeniable truth. Love conquered my fears and showed me a path
toward the future. Love for one very special person made my life whole. I
dedicate this award to those have proven to me, day in and day out, that love
can and does conquer all. To my dear friend, Oscar Calabresis, whose enormous
heart and love for his family will someday help him to walk again. To Kat Raney,
my missing piece. Thank you.”
The room erupted into vigorous
applause that continued for a full minute. Trent stepped away from the podium,
descended from the stage, and leaned over the back of my chair.
“Could you come with me?”
he whispered in my ear as the applause continued. “There is something I would
like to ask you.”
My heart jumped into my
throat. I turned, my eyes wide with shock. Trent simply smiled and extended a
hand.
“Sure.” My hand trembled
as I reached for his. My voice was weak and raspy. My pulse raced as I rose
shakily from my seat. Trent pulled me toward a side exit. I turned back once to
our table and saw Marcie and Tony exchange a knowing grin.
Trent pushed open the
door. We emerged into a deserted hallway. The last echoes of applause died away
as the door swung shut. It felt strange to be in the museum in the quiet hours
of the night. Normally, these hallways would be crowded with tourists rushing
to the next exhibit, chattering, and snapping photos. Now we were utterly alone
in the silence, bathed in the soft glow of overhead lights.
“This way,” he said. He
held tight to my hand, his fingers intertwined with mine, and tugged me through
a series of similarly empty corridors. My heels clicked along the gleaming tile
floors. “We’re almost there,” he said with a sideways smirk that melted my
heart.
He led me through an
archway lined with beautiful mosaics in vivid blues and greens. We emerged into
a high-ceilinged room that looked like a scene from the ancient world. In the
center of the room stood an Egyptian temple, its sand-colored bricks pitted and
chipped with the passage of time and the ravages of the desert, but still
stately and magnificent in this transplanted paradise. The temple entrance was
flanked by two elegantly carved columns topped with stone replicas of leaves
and fruit. Two narrow reflecting pools, their waters perfectly still, lined
either side of the temple platform. Torches flickered along the banks of the
pools, creating an aura of wavering candlelight that was reflected in the sheen
of the smooth water. A bridge of wooden planks led from the polished slate
floor to the temple platform. A pair of perfectly matched statues, pharaohs in
headdresses carved from midnight black stone, watched like sentinels from their
stations beside the bridge.
I paused on the room’s threshold,
breathless with anticipation and speechless at the enchanting scene. Trent
placed a hand on my lower back and guided me forward. I stepped onto the
bridge, the clack of my heels on the thick wood echoing in the still and silent
chamber.
“This is beautiful.” I
turned and faced Trent between the temple columns. His face was half lit by the
golden flames of the torches and half bathed in the shadows of the temple
interior. His eyes met mine with a cryptic expression. We stepped beneath the
temple roof that was painted with hieroglyphic frescoes. Here and there, the
walls were etched with centuries-old graffiti, the leavings of Victorian
visitors now long gone.
Paul and Eliza, May 7, 1872
. Maybe they had
stood exactly where Trent and I now stood, in love and on the precipice of a
wonderful future together.
“I brought you here
because there is something very important that I would like to ask you.” He
cleared his throat and peeked at me from under lowered brows, his blue eyes
luminescent in the partial darkness. He lowered himself onto one knee.
My breath caught in my
throat. My heart flipped around in my chest like a startled butterfly. I
breathed deeply, trying to steady my surging pulse.
He took my hand and gazed
up at me with a look of serene contentment. “Kat, my life has not been the same
since the moment you walked into my office dressed like a bumble bee.” We both
laughed. He kissed the tips of my fingers. “You are everything that I have ever
wanted in a woman. You are smart, beautiful, funny, compassionate, and kind. I
would like to ask you – would you make me the happiest boss in the world and
agree to work full-time for the magazine after you graduate in the spring?”
My mouth fell open in shock.
Trent continued to gaze up at me with a heartfelt sincerity.
“Umm,” I stammered,
feeling like the wind had been knocked from my chest. “Uh, yes I will come work
for the magazine.”
“Terrific!” He remained
on one knee and reached into an inner pocket of his tuxedo jacket. “But there
is something else too.” He balanced a small black ring box on the palm of his
hand. “Open it, Kat,” he said softly.
I gingerly plucked the
box from his hand, my fingers shaking, and flipped it open. Inside was a
gorgeous diamond ring, a single large stone in the center surrounded by a
circle of smaller stones. The ring caught the reflection of the torch light,
glittering and sparkling with a radiant fire in the dark heart of the temple.
“Miss Kat Raney, would
you do me the inestimable honor of becoming my wife?”
I gasped and dissolved
into tears. “Yes, Trent. Yes yes yes yes yes!” He caressed my shaking fingers
and slipped the ring onto my hand.
He rose to his feet and
embraced me. Tears flowed down my cheeks. He patted them dry and kissed me warm
and full on the lips.
“I love you, Kat,” he
whispered.
“I love you, Trent.”
“Forever?”
“Forever and ever.”
Under the roof of an
ancient temple in the center of a bustling city, we solemnly promised each
other an eternity of love.
THE END