Chapter 9: Cheers
I steadied the camera lens on a patch of tulips popping up next to the gazebo. Their blooms held the most intense color of any flower I knew of, and every year I looked forward to capturing their succulent, rainbow hues. In capturing their image, I felt like I could capture their vitality, their life. I was setting up my next shot when I felt a hand on my shoulder. The film captured a blurred image of the roof of the gazebo and the sky as I spun around, startled.
"Luke!" I said, breathless. "You scared me!"
He grinned and caught me up in a quick kiss. "Not my fault," he said pulling back. "I called your name three times but I guess you didn't hear me."
I blushed. "Oh, I'm sorry...I was just...I was taking some pictures."
"I noticed," he chuckled, pointing to the camera around my neck.
I looked down at it then back up at him. "Yeah, right. So, hey, how's your dad?"
"He's good. That's what I was coming to tell you, he's coming home today."
"Oh, very exciting."
"Yeah I know," he chuckled back. "Listen, I was going to ask you something."
"Shoot," I aimed the camera at him playfully.
"My dad asked about you. He wants to meet you, officially I guess, once he comes home."
"Oh, wow."
"So I thought maybe you could come over to our house for dinner tonight."
"Tonight? Wow, I guess so...sure."
"Do you think your dad would come too?"
I was sure Dad would be thrilled. "I don't know, but I could ask him."
"Great," he grinned broadly. He pulled me in with an arm around my shoulder and turned us back around towards the gazebo. "So, what are you taking pictures of over here?"
Dad adjusted his tie as we waited for someone to answer our knock. Looking at his face, I couldn't tell how much of his expression was excitement and how much was nervousness. I knew though, that whatever my face looked like, it was pure nervousness. Always able to read me, sometimes better than I could myself, Dad squeezed my hand.
"Come on, this'll be fun," he said, smiling.
Luke opened the door, looking as nervous as I felt. My heart skipped a little at his formal outfit, and I think he felt the same way about my dress. I hated dresses, but I wanted to look nice.
The house smelled incredible, like a lemon grove. Luke flashed me a smile, then greeted my father with a handshake. "How are you sir?" he asked politely.
"Good, very good, son," Dad patted him on the shoulder in a manly way.
A buzzer went off in the kitchen. "Luke," his father said, walking slowly into the living room. "I think it's ready."
"Did you cook?" I asked Luke skeptically.
He nodded, "It's nothing too fancy, just something my mom used to make." He turned to his father, "Dad, you remember Rachel and this is her father, Mr. David Hadley. Mr. Hadley, this is my father, William Danes."
Our fathers shook hands. "You have a lovely daughter," Luke's father told mine. "You should be very proud." Luke disappeared into the kitchen.
"Well thank you," Dad said, grinning crookedly at me. "I am quite proud of her. I could say the same about your son. He seems like quite the gentleman."
Luke's father smiled in genuine gratitude. "Thank you too. Why don't you two come in? Let me show you to the table, I think we're almost ready to eat."
He led us into their formal dining room, which was decked out with a lacy tablecloth, good china and crystal, fresh flowers, and candles.
"It's beautiful," I said mostly to myself. While my dad could cook, he wasn't big on the accessories.
"My wife loved these things," William said, looking wistful. "We hardly ever get them out nowadays."
Luke poked his head in from the kitchen, "Go ahead and sit down everyone, especially you," he pointed at his father. "Here you go." He placed heaping plates in front of my father and me, then ran back to get two more for himself and his father before sitting down. It was a lovely spread of lemon-herb salmon, glazed carrots and a small spinach and tomato salad. I was impressed by Luke's culinary abilities.
"This looks incredible," I whispered shyly across the table.
He smiled.
"How about a toast?" Luke's father asked before we could start eating. "We don't have any wine, what with my old ticker, but the ice water ought to do just fine." We all raised our glasses. "To new friends," he said, looking at me and Luke, "and good children," he said, looking at my father, "and to the blessing of being able to be here today thanks to the quick thinking and good timing of Luke and Rachel. I wanted to thank you both for everything you've done."
I blushed, looking down at the napkin in my lap. "Cheers," Dad said.
"Cheers," the rest of us replied.
"Alright, well, dig in," William urged. "This looks like a feast. I don't know about you two, but I would love a good steak right now. I guess that's not going to happen anymore though. Luke is the only person who can make something that's not a steak good enough that I don't mind the fact that it's not a steak." He chuckled and I saw Luke sit up a little bit straighter.
"So how are you feeling?" my dad asked.
"Well, obviously much better, but still a bit sluggish. I'm supposed to take it slow for a while. I'm not sure how I'm going to manage the store this way, but we'll figure it out."
Our fathers chatted back and forth for most of the evening, while Luke and I exchanged shy glances and poorly hidden half smiles across the table. There was peach pie for dessert, which was wonderful. On our way home, Dad asked me if it had really been that bad after all. I told him no, of course, but really it had been one of the most torturous nights of my life. I couldn't wait for things to settle down so that Luke and I could get on with just being together. I was looking forward to a long, lazy summer.
