Chapter Twenty-Nine
ELLIE
Hope sparkled in my heart at the real prospect of Drew and me having a future together. Neither of us had planned for this—whatever this was—but I had faith it was just the beginning.
Looking around at all the people gathered by the river, I knew I could be happy here. And it wasn’t just because of Drew. I loved this town, and its people, and all its quirks.
We stood as one, our arms wrapped around each other, as we listened to Glamma, Gladys, Martha, and Goldie as they took turns spinning the tale of Ruby River’s star-crossed lovers.
“If you enjoy the tale of Romeo and Juliet,” Gladys said cheerfully, “then you’ll love this one, because it ends happily ever after instead of in death.”
Goldie stepped in seamlessly. “The young lovers lived on neighboring land. Her family was wealthy; his family were struggling farmers. Their families hated each other, but no one remembered why, except for whispered rumors of love gone wrong.”
Martha patted a large, weather oak tree fondly.
“They met here every night at this tree around the bend in the river to spend time together. If you look closely, you can see their initials carved into the bark right here. And as their love grew, so did their determination to leave everything behind and start a life together.”
We followed as Glamma led our small group down the well-worn path next to the river and slowed as the sun dipped lower, painting the river molten gold.
Glamma paused by a flat rock on the bank, draping her hand over it with a dramatic flare.
“Here is where he proposed. She said yes, and they both rushed home to pack for their elopement. They’d leave under the cover of darkness the next night.
” She paused dramatically. “But her father found out and made other plans. He betrothed her to another, gave her the ruby pendant that had been in her family for generations, and told her she’d leave by sundown the next evening. ”
Gladys sighed as we continued toward the bench near the bridge.
“She couldn’t get word to her love. When she was forced into the carriage to take her to her betrothed, she demanded her driver stop halfway mid-route.
She jumped out, leaving all of her possession, and ran to the bridge where her love was waiting. ”
Martha’s voice lowered in a hush. “He pulled her into his arms and they made a promise, vowing to stay together forever, no matter what. She threw her dowry—the ruby—into the river so she couldn’t be bargained away. His vow, her ruby. Forever.”
Goldie dabbed at her eyes. “The river shimmered crimson that night. And it’s been said that ever since, when a ruby hue touches the water, a couple falls into that forever kind of love."
We reached the bench. The air thick with the hush of our reverence, the scent of the river, and the soft rustle of leaves. The sun set like fire on the water. Drew stood behind me, his arms encircling my waist. His steady breath against my hair made my racing heart slow.
“And to commemorate this walk each year, we tie our wishes to this tree,” Gladys pointed to a younger oak nearby. “And couples are encouraged to write their names on the bench.”
Grace thrust a Sharpie at us. “Fun. You two need to do that!”
Drew bent over, scrubbing his initials with a plus sign. My hand shook a little as I added mine, looping a heart around them.
Something in me shifted. Seeing our names together like that—permanent, for anyone to read—hit me with an emotion I couldn’t contain.
We reached for each other at the same time, teeth clacking in our haste to seal our Sharpied initials with a kiss.
Laughter burst out of me, swept away by the sound of the rushing water.
The second kiss was slower. Sweet. Sure.
My curves pressed against the solid line of his body, his hand cupping the back of my neck.
For a moment, the world faded, and it was only us.
A whistle from Grace was swallowed by the squeal of the microphone’s feedback, followed by Mayor Everly’s voice, reminding everyone to buy their flowers before the release.
The spell was broken.
We pulled back blinking, trying to focus on the present. The sun was closer to the horizon and darkness was about to fall. The streetlights were on, and the last part of the day’s celebration was about to begin.
Out of the corner of my eye as the sun slipped down further and I swear I saw a little ruby glimmer reflect back at me from the middle of the river.
When I closed my eyes and opened them again, the river looked the same as it always did.
Drew took my hand in his and we joined the crowd gathered near the flower vendor’s booth—a simple table draped in white cloth by the river.
She had buckets of single stem flowers, most I didn’t recognize and was grateful to the signs on each one: Cardinal Flower, Canada Bunchberry, Swamp Milkweed, Foamflower, and Violets.
The elderly woman greeted us warmly. “It’s nice to see you, Drew. You must be Ellie! It’s $1.00 for one flower or 6 for $5.00. How many would you like?” she asked, the deep folds around her eyes crinkling with kindness.
“It’s nice to see you too, Mrs. Thompson.” Drew glanced at me. “Six for each of us?”
I nodded, suddenly overwhelmed by the idea of the old tradition. Why did this night seem so monumental?
We carried our bouquets to a quieter spot along the riverbank, away from the densest part of the crowd but close enough to watch others participate.
An older couple stood nearby, the husband helping his wife with shaking hands.
A group of teenagers laughed hard as they tossed their flowers in unison then the blooms scattered across the dark water like stars.
Lanterns strung along the bridge cast golden pools of light on the water.
The air smelled of the river, grass, and the lingering sweetness of doughboys from earlier.
Drew held out a flower to me. “Who’s your first one for?”
A name came to mind right away. “My Auntie Betty. For always seeing me.” I released the bloom into the water. The current caught it immediately, spinning in lazy circles before carrying it downstream.
When I turned back, Drew’s expression was serious. He held his flower up and murmured, “For Dad and my ancestors. For building something worth being a part of.” Then he tossed it into the river.
We continued like that, taking turns. I sent one for Martha, Goldie, Gladys, and Glamma—for giving me a sweet bunch of grandma’s I didn’t know I needed. Drew sent one for each of his siblings, and another for a cousin of his who was struggling.
Then we were down to the last flower each. The crowd had thinned slightly now that the initial rush was over. I looked at Drew, waiting to see if he was thinking what I was thinking.
He spun the stem between his fingers, not looking at me. “I keep thinking about earlier. That this feels less fake every day.”
My pulse kicked up. “Me too.”
“I need you to know …” He stopped, jaw working. “I can’t stop thinking about it because it’s not true anymore.”
I held my breath.
“This doesn’t feel fake at all, Ellie. Not even a little.
” His eyes found mine, vulnerable and steady at once.
“And that terrifies me because I don’t know if I can give you what you deserve.
My schedule is insane. The expansion is going to get more intense before it gets better. I’m scared I’ll let you down.”
He was afraid. Just like me.
“I’m scared too,” I admitted, the words tumbling out. “I’m freaking out, actually. Of being second again. Of not mattering enough. Of falling for someone who’ll realize I’m too much work or not worth the effort.” My voice dropped to barely a whisper. “But I think I’m falling anyway.”
His breath caught, his chest barely lifting.
It felt like everything around us was changing. Yet, the river continued its eternal flow. Someone laughed in the distance. A child squealed. Life continued while we stood suspended in this moment.
“I don’t want this to end,” Drew said, and there was something raw in his voice.
“Whatever this is between us—I don’t want it to be temporary.
I know we started as fake. I know we live hours away from each other, but …
” He looked down at the flower in his hand, then back at me.
“I’m falling in love with you, Ellie. I don’t know when it happened or how to do this right, but I know I don’t want it to stop. ”
Tears pricked at my eyes. My emotions were overwhelming, but one surfaced to the top above all the others.
I had to tell him what I felt. “I’m falling in love with you, too.
” The admission felt like jumping off a cliff and growing wings all at the same time—terrifying and exhilarating.
“I tried telling myself it was too fast, too risky, but I’m starting to believe we’ve been leading up to this moment since we first started talking three months ago. ”
He reached for my hand, threading our fingers together. “So what do we do?”
“We try,” I said simply. “We try to figure this out.”
We stood there, hands clasped, each holding a flower to our chest. The symbolism wasn't lost on me—separately holding our own wishes, but connected in the middle.
“Together?” Drew asked, lifting his flower.
“Together,” I agreed.
I closed my eyes as Drew did the same and made my wish—I wish that whatever is between us doesn’t end. I’m falling in love with Drew, and I want to be brave enough to see where this goes.
When I glanced over, he was staring at me with the sweetest crooked grin.
Our eyes met, and something passed between us—recognition, promise, hope.
We walked a few steps to the water’s edge, our shoulders brushing, and on an unspoken count, we released our flowers simultaneously. They hit the water side-by-side, bobbing for a minute before the current caught them, and I swear I saw another glint of crimson touch the water.