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.