Neither knew how long they stood thus, but at length, she felt a change between them, a tired sort of sigh, and she knew they must stop. Still holding her, feet off the ground, Matteo leaned his head back to look into her eyes. The love she saw in return to her own filled her with wonder. His eyes full of joy, he rested his forehead against hers and smiled.

She smiled in return, giggling a little, the change from utter misery to bliss so complete she surprised herself. Matteo spun her around, and she felt her heart would explode. Never had she felt more joy in the mere presence of another. A great completion of herself began piecing itself together. What she lacked, he provided. When she could go no further, he filled her with strength and love and joy. This moment, this feeling, this, she wanted for the rest of her days. “Oh, Matteo.”

He gently placed her on her feet but kept one of her hands in his own. Then he bent one knee in the dirt in front of her house as he’d done before, with the morning birds as witness. Scarlet, unaware of anyone but Matteo, watched him kneel before her.

“You said you needed time, and I pray these past weeks have been sufficient. Scarlet, you are my completion, my whole. You have become the very reason I breathe. Make us both happy and please, agree to be my wife.” His eyes were full of love, of hope.

Scarlet knew she was tired, vulnerable, needy; but she also knew she no longer felt any hesitance. She wanted only Matteo, every day, Matteo. And so she said, “Oh, yes, Matteo. Make me the happiest of women and marry me straightaway, as soon as we are able.”

He picked her up again and swung her around and around in front of the house. They laughed, and he set her down. Then, grabbing her hand, he ran with her around to the back of the house, through the beds and hedges and along the paths until they reached her rose garden. “Here,” he said. And he sat her down on a bench under an arch of roses.

Between breaths, she asked, “What is this?”

He shrugged. “I had planned to propose here, in this spot. See, they have bloomed while you were gone. And I pictured you right there.” He picked a rose from a nearby bush and handed it to her. “With this.” He sat beside her and again took her hand in his.

She leaned her head against his shoulder and yawned, the past twenty-four hours catching up with her at last. “Right here,” she echoed.