I didn’t think he would say anything in return, so it surprised me and filled me with incredible hope when he said, “Our final adventure.”
The perfect way to phrase it, I thought. “Our final adventure,” I whispered into the night, an unprecedented joy infusing my body. Rune’s arms snaked around my waist. “With one amendment,” I said. Rune frowned.
Smoothing the crease on his forehead, I said, “Thislife’s final adventure. Because I know, with unwavering faith, that we’ll be together again. Even when this adventure is over, a greater one awaits us on the other side. And Rune, there would be no heaven if you weren’t back in my arms someday.”
All six feet four of Rune Kristiansen braced against me. And I held him. I held him until he calmed. When he pulled back, I asked, “So, Rune Kristiansen, Viking from Norway, are you with me?”
Despite himself, Rune laughed. Laughed when I held out my hand for him to shake. Rune, my Scandinavian bad boy with a face made by the angels, slipped his hand into mine and we shook on our promise. Twice. Like my mamaw taught me.
“I’m with you,” he said. I felt his vow all the way to my toes.
“Ma’am, sir?” I looked over Rune’s shoulder to see the server holding our check. “We’re closing up,” he explained.
“You okay?” I asked Rune, signaling to the server that we were coming.
Rune nodded, his heavy brows pushing his face back into his familiar scowl. I imitated how he looked by scrunching my face. Rune, unable to resist, gave me his good-humored smirk. “Only you,” he said, more to himself than to me, “Poppymin.” Slipping his hand back into mine, he slowly guided me to the front of the shack.
When we were back in the car, Rune turned on the engine and said, “We have one more place to go.”
“Another memorable moment?”
As we pulled out onto the road, Rune took my hand in his across the console and replied, “I hope so,Poppymin. I hope so.”
* * *
It took us a while to drive back to town. We didn’t talk much. I had come to understand that Rune was quieter than he used to be. Not that he was exactly an extrovert before. He was always introverted and quiet. He fit nicely the image of the brooding artist, head always juggling places and landscapes he wanted to capture on film.
Moments.
We had traveled only a mile or so down the road when Rune turned the radio on. He told me to pick any station I wanted. And when I quietly sang, his fingers tightened just that bit more in mine.
A yawn escaped my mouth as we approached the edge of town, but I fought to keep my eyes open. I wanted to know where he was taking me.
When we stopped outside the Dixon Theater, my pulse took flight. This was the theater I had always dreamed of performing at. It was the theater I had always wanted to return to when I was older, as part of a professional orchestra. To my home town.
Rune cut the engine, and I stared up at the impressive stone theater. “Rune, what are we doing here?”
Rune released my hand and opened his door. “Come with me.”
Frowning, but my heart racing so impossibly hard, I opened my door to follow him. Rune took my hand and led me to the front entrance.
It was late on a Sunday night, but he led us straight through the front doors. As soon as we entered the dim foyer, I heard the faint sounds of Puccini playing in the background.
My hand tightened in Rune’s. He glanced down at me, a smirk on his lips. “Rune,” I whispered, as he led me up the opulent staircase. “Where are we going?”
Rune pressed his finger over my lips, signaling for me to be quiet. I wondered why, but then he led me to a door … the door that led to the dress circle of the theater.
Rune opened the door, and music washed over me like a wave. Gasping at the sheer volume of the sound, I followed Rune to the front row of seats. Down below was an orchestra, their conductor leading them. I recognized them instantly: The Savannah Chamber Orchestra.
I was transfixed, staring at the musicians focusing so intently on their instruments, swaying in time to the beat. Whipping my head to Rune, I asked, “How did you do this?”
Rune shrugged. “I was looking to take you to see them perform properly, but they’re traveling overseas tomorrow. When I explained to the conductor how much you loved them, he said we could drop in on their rehearsal.”
No words passed through my lips.
I was speechless. Completely and utterly speechless.
Failing to adequately express my feelings, my sheer gratitude for this surprise, I laid my head on his shoulder and cuddled into his arm. The smell of leather filled my nose as my eyes focused on the orchestra below.