7. "I love you."

Georg made his way down the stairs and straight into the kitchen where he had expected to find his wife. It seemed she was always in the kitchen bustling about, despite the fact that their empty nest meant less food to prepare and fewer dishes to clean. He had hoped at this stage in their life that she would slow down a bit – Lord knows he had – so they could enjoy just being Georg and Maria, alone at last.

He lifted the kettle and cautiously touched the side of it; stone cold. She hadn't even made tea yet nor left him some breakfast, not that he was all that hungry yet. It didn't matter, he could wait, only it wasn't like her to just leave without any hint of what she was up to.

A whirling dervish. Maria told him one time that the Sisters at the abbey had not-so-generously called her that because she was always running everywhere, to and fro, from one thing until whatever distracted her next. Even now, all these years later, he still can't get her to be still for long. They even threatened to tie a cowbell around her neck, she said, because they could never find her anywhere. He was sympathetic to that idea at present.

He couldn't bring himself to be upset about it, not really. Just because he was feeling the passage of time, she was still young. Her steps were still graceful and quick, her voice still sweet and light. She was still curious about everything. She still made him laugh, still took his breath away. Forever young, that was his Maria. And when he was with her, he was young, too.

Suddenly he heard running footsteps outside the kitchen door and then the familiar squeak of the storm door hinges before it crashed shut. He knew it was her before he turned to see her; only his darling wife could make the sound of a slamming door sound happy.

He turned to find her half-bent over trying to catch her breath, one hand on her hip and the other resting across her stomach. Her hair was wind-blown and her smiling face flushed pink from the exercise.

"What have you been up to?" he asked with a small laugh as he turned on the stove under the kettle.

"Oh, it's a beautiful morning! Spring is finally here, the air is so fresh and the grass is turning greener as I speak!" Maria took a deep breath and exhaled slowly, breaking out in a grin. Her hands flailed at her side as she shrugged. "I simply had to be a part of it."

"Naturally," Georg nodded, folding his arms and rolling his eyes at her. "That sounds like a lovely way to start the day. But why were you running back? Was something chasing you?" She laughed at his teasing and closed the gap between them.

"Why must I be running away from something?"

"I know, it's so unlike you to run away..."

"Maybe I was running to something," she nudged him, and then pressed a quick kiss to his lips. He hummed his approval as he wrapped his arms around her. She brought her hands to rest on his chest, her fingers playing gently with the buttons on his shirt. "Besides I couldn't really start my day until I told you something."

"Oh?" Georg drank in the sight of her. Her hair was becoming lighter but still golden, still a halo of sunlight. There were a few lines around at the corners, but her eyes were as blue and clear as ever, still containing the vivacious sparkle of eternal youth. "What do you have to tell me?"

"I love you." She giggled, as if it were silly now that she said it out loud. Georg opened his mouth to respond, but hesitated. His earlier reflections convinced him that she deserved sonnets and songs. She deserved big words, tender words. She looked at him curiously, her jaw slightly slack as she waited for him to say something.

"I love you, too." In the end, it was the only way to express everything in his heart. "I wish there was another way I could say exactly how much."

She laughed and shook her head, leaning against him to give him a slow kiss. After she let him tuck her under his chin so they could just hold each other.

"Oh, my dear Captain," she sighed happily. "Every day you tell me you love me a hundred different ways."

fin