"I don't need a ring, Lucien," Jean said as they entered a Melbourne jewellery shop. "I'm not some blushing bride-"
"Perhaps you don't need one, but would you want one?"
She repeated, "I'm too old for this-" as she gazed into the cases.
The salesman oiled up to them. "Something for the lady? Or perhaps a watch for the gentleman?"
"An engagement ring, as a matter of fact," Lucien said jovially.
With the salesman's astonishment, both lost their good humour. When he recovered, he showed them a few simple, dull rings.
And that was how Jean ended up with an awfully expensive emerald surrounded by flawless diamonds. Over tea, she turned her hand to and fro to admire the fire in the green stone. "I'll enjoy it for now. I shan't wear it in Ballarat."
He caught her fingers to kiss them...and then paused, his lips hovering. He'd obviously recalled something.
"Jean, I'm so sorry! I didn't remember your first ring."
"But then you'd have to confess to stealing it," she teased.
"Borrowed," he corrected. He rose. "We'll take the ring back and get another."
"No." She pulled him down. "If you don't mind, I'll keep it. That ring meant alot to me. This ring will be just as cherished."
Christopher's engagement ring had been made with his mother's heirloom stones and her uncle's gift of gold nuggets. They'd both been silly children to want something so flashy. In the end, she rarely wore it with her rough work as a farmer's wife. But it had symbolized their future dreams.
She went to a hair appointment, and when she joined Lucien at the hotel bar, he presented another jeweller's case, this one holding a dark pearl necklace. "For our future life," she told him, after giving a token protest.