Chapter 22 Olivia
“That was the best picture I’ve ever seen,” Simon declared as they stepped out of the Lancaster theater, Olivia’s gloved hand snug in his. The producers had strayed a bit from the script she’d read in Los Angeles, but it was still surreal, wonderful even, to watch Silver Summer on a screen.
The heroine had found love in the end, but the conclusion had been nothing like Olivia imagined when she wrote the story.
Instead of retiring to a quiet cottage on the seashore, Elaine spending the rest of her days with the man she loved, the movie ended at a glittering ballroom in San Francisco, no one except the hero recognizing the former maid who’d become his wife.
Romantic, she supposed, in its own way, but Elaine seemed much too compliant when Olivia had envisioned her as resilient and tenacious.
She sighed. “They changed so much from the book.”
Simon kissed her hand. “It doesn’t matter.”
“It feels dishonest, like they deceived the audience.”
“Directors know what their audiences like to watch, just like you know what your readers enjoy. You’ll sell a million more books after people see this film.”
She smiled, glad this man walking alongside her concerned himself with her success and future. Their future.
A snowflake twirled past them like a tiny drum major leading the winter parade. Just maybe, she would spend Christmas with Simon this year.
“The first snow,” she whispered as more flakes followed, tumbling their way from the sky.
They ought to return home quickly lest they get stranded in Lancaster. Mr. Manning spent most of his time sleeping, but Eli and the nurse would fret about the slippery roads. She didn’t want to concern anyone with her whereabouts.
“Let’s not wait another moment, Olivia.”
She glanced at the man beside her as he stopped under a streetlamp.
Thought of all the excuses that no longer needed to be excused.
Simon could spend most of his winter months in Winfield, and when he wasn’t teaching, even with Eli and his grandfather as guests, there was plenty of room for all of them in Haven House.
She tilted her head. “Wait for what?”
“Please marry me.”
It might be the last time he’d ask, and she couldn’t blame him. He had been a picture of patience this year. Why should they continue to wait?
Simon, in their ups and downs, had proven himself perfectly human this year with his frustration over her delay and his bouts of silence.
And she’d exhibited a full range of imperfections as well.
Hattie’s seeds of doubt had continued rooting in her head, but she and Simon cared for each other.
Loved, she might say, although he hadn’t broached that sentiment since his clash with Hattie.
If she kept hesitating, he would most certainly find someone else, and she couldn’t imagine living her remaining years without him. Alone. Like Mr. Manning except she would have no Eli to keep her company in those later years.
“We should marry in Winfield next month,” she said, the theater lights casting long shadows on the sidewalk. “Then we can celebrate Christmas with your family.”
Simon took both her hands. “I think we should marry tomorrow. Before I leave.”
She studied the eyes that looked almost charcoal in the evening light. “I’m beginning to think you don’t want me to meet your family.”
“They are rather eccentric.” His easy smile turned grim. “But that’s not it. The government is calling up more men to prepare for war, and if I get drafted—I don’t want to wait to marry you.”
War. The word stopped her breath. Just last week she’d read how Virginia Woolf, months after her London house was destroyed in the Blitz, filled her pockets with rocks and drowned herself in an English river.
War tore apart one’s heart and mind.
Olivia blinked, returning her attention to the man in front of her. “President Roosevelt said he wants to keep the United States out of the conflict.”
“It won’t be long before he doesn’t have a choice.”
If Simon was called up before they married, she’d never be able to forgive herself for not agreeing to his proposal.
She slipped her hands into his. “I don’t want to wait until December either.”
“I’m relieved to hear it.”
Maybe Reverend Donahue could conduct the small ceremony at her house so Eli and Mr. Manning could join them along with Jillian and a few other church friends. No fanfare needed.
“Tomorrow, then?” she asked tentatively. “I can ask Reverend Donahue to officiate.”
Simon’s kiss in the falling snow was one she’d never forget. A pedestrian hooted at their affection, but she didn’t care what anyone else thought. By this time tomorrow, she and Simon would be husband and wife.
In the end, Reverend Donahue asked them to wait another week. Enough time, he said, to discuss their plans together.
But she and Simon had talked long enough about the future. They had no other reason to delay.
She thanked the reverend kindly and married Simon at the courthouse.