The sound doesn’t stir Hazel, and for a moment, I can’t bring myself to wake her up. She just looks so peaceful and happy, wrapped in my arms.
And unfortunately “happy” has kind of been in short supply recently, despite the approaching holiday. Hazel’s father, Robert, had passed away back in June, and I know she’s having a hard time handling her first Christmas without him.
That part, I could relate to, having lost my own father a few years ago, but unlike Hazel, I was still pretty close to my mom and my younger brother and sister. Hazel was an only child, and had cut all contact with her mother back when she was seventeen years old.
It was for good reason, I’d heard all about the narcissistic abuse Sharon had put both Hazel and Robert through, and I had even seen a little bit of it firsthand when she tried to reach out after Robert’s death.
It had been excruciating for Hazel to stand her ground, but she’d managed, and it’s proven to be for the best. While some of the initial messages were appropriately manipulative, the “desperate pleas of a mother trying to put her family back together,” later messages lifted the veil and showed off with threats and insults.
So, needless to say, Hazel wasn’t exactly chomping at the bit to let the woman back into her life, which left her without any family to celebrate Christmas with this year.
My own family has embraced her with open arms, and she isn’t just invited to be part of our holiday at this point, but expected to be. However, we’ve postponed our celebrations, opting to wait until my brother’s back from overseas, where he’s been on some kind of assignment for work. He’s due back right around New Year’s, so we all decided it wasn’t a big deal to push the festivities back a few days.
For us, the date itself has never been the most important thing, just the time spent with family. I had someone get incredulous with me for expressing that once, exclaiming that I should treat the birthdate of Christ with more reverence. Personally, though, I think Jesus always seemed like the kind of guy who wouldn’t mind waiting for everyone to get there before starting his birthday party.
Honestly, I think he’d agree with me that family’s more important than what the calendar says.
So, rather than let the delayed celebration do more to dampen Hazel’s already glum spirits, I decided to whisk her off on a fun vacation and spend Christmas in the Caribbean.
The chiming of my alarm goes off again and I realize I’d accidentally snoozed it, rather than shutting it off. This time, the sound is enough to stir Hazel. “Have a good nap, love?” I ask her.
A yawn overtakes her before she can speak, but she nods, blinking slowly as her eyes adjust. “Good,” I reply, chuckling.
“How about you?” she asks.
“Definitely,” I nodded.
The nap had honestly been better sleep than I’d had in a while. Between work stress, worrying about Hazel’s holiday blues, and the “Big Thing” lingering in my mind, it’s been hard to shut my mind off to get decent rest.
Thinking about the “Big Thing” reminds me that I’ve still got decisions to make, and one of them is kind of time sensitive.
But before I can get too deep in thought, Hazel starts to get up. “So, which dress am I wearing, love?” she asks as she rises to her feet.
“Red one in the blue plaid bag,” I answer.
She lifts the aforementioned suitcase up onto the bed and unzips it. The velvet dress is helpfully right on top. She pulls it out, holding it up by the shoulders to give it a proper look.
I can tell immediately that she likes it, the smile that lights up her face is one of pure delight, and I can also see wicked gears turning behind those pretty eyes. “I think I can make this work,” she says, glancing at me with a teasing smirk and winking.
“Glad to hear it.”
She picks up a smaller bag where she’d packed her makeup, one of the few things she had actually packed for herself. I can pick clothes, shoes, jewelry, even the occasional perfume for her, but I’m not about to try and pick out eyeliner. I’m happy to pass over my credit card and let her have at it, but I know my limits.
With that, she slips into the bathroom, leaving me to get dressed. Once she’s securely behind a closed bathroom door, I unzip a small side pocket on my own suitcase and retrieve a little blue velvet box.
The “Big Thing” on my mind is how I’m going to propose to Hazel. I’ve got the ring, and I know without a doubt in my mind that it’s perfect, but now I just want to set up the perfect moment to ask her to be my wife.
In fact, I’ve been trying to pick my “perfect moment” for almost two months now. I originally got the ring with the intention of proposing on her birthday, but then she’d wound up with a cold and I’d decided the moment wasn’t right. So I’d been putting it off, thinking “maybe this time,” until I booked this trip and decided that it was perfect.
We were in a stunningly picturesque paradise, the ideal setting for a romantic proposal. So now it was just a matter of picking my moment. Did I want to do it tonight, so we spend the entirety of the trip basking in our blissful new engagement?
Maybe at the tree-decorating party. Although at the same time, I’ve never been a fan of big public proposals, and I don’t think it’s Hazel’s vibe either. But who’s to say I won’t get a moment alone with her?
I just don’t know. Maybe I’m thinking about it too much, and rather than trying to plan the moment, I should just carry the ring with me and wait for it to strike.
The idea immediately appeals. I know I’m also leaving room for the possibility of me just impulsively jumping the gun, but it’s a risk I’ll have to take. I flip open the ring and admire it for a moment.
The large emerald-cut diamond is accented with a halo of smaller sparkling stones, glittering out of a gleaming rose gold setting. The piece is beautiful and unique, just like the woman I’m putting it on.