I have mentioned that Caleb was on a motorcycle trip this weekend.  He planned this with the Rethmeiers before we were married.  I was sad but glad that he could go.  Actually the weekend was pretty good, filled with people and projects.

But I thought of him always; I missed him often.

It was Sunday night.  I fixed myself some food after church and plopped onto the couch to watch an old Gary Cooper movie.  I did nothing profitable, which I deemed quite alright since the house was relatively clean.  Movie over, I mentally thought, one more day, twenty-four hours from now I’ll see my sweetest.  Bedtime preparations and reading.  I tried to call him, and I tried.  “Cell phone reception must be bad…again…way down in the hills of Arkansas.”  I tried one more time.  No success.  Lights out, turn over and sleep.  “He might call later…”

He did.  12:15 but I didn’t mind.  My dearest had called, his strong, manly voice soothing my tired ears.  Thirty seconds of conversation and then.  Stop.  Silence.  Was my mind playing tricks on me?  Was I hearing things?  No.  It was someone climbing our stairs.  They had heard me talking.  They knew I was there.  What should I do?  There was someone in my house.  I was all alone…well, not so alone anymore.  I gripped the phone in silent terror, mind racing.  Quick memories of the recent kidnappings flitted through my mind.  Silence.  Stomp. Stomp.  Stomp.  Five feet from me, a figure.

“Who is that?” In my firmest, freaked out voice.  “It’s me, baby.  I came home early.”

Pure joy!  Brilliant ecstasy!!  “Don’t you DO that to me again!”

I hit him.  And then I kissed him, long and hard.