Moments
Confessions
"I have a confession to make," Peggy abruptly announced.
The nasty, roiling, and rising bile that had been attempting to climb up his already closing throat, from his already failed attempts to fight back a panic attack, solidified and formed into ball of ice that plummeted to the pit of his shrinking stomach at her words.
This was not good news, whatever it was. Peggy hardly ever felt guilty for anything, because she generally always believed she was right, and for the most part, she was. So if she had to make a 'confession' – it had to be really bad.
Also, her timing was ominous and terrible. They were currently under fire from a crazy Swede who was demanding that they bring him 'The Formula'. It was truth serum or hypnosis-inducing serum, a fact which was currently irrelevant, as they were trapped behind a granite-topped oak kitchen island, with a quickly depleting supply of bullets (a situation that their opponent did not seem to be suffering judging by his liberal spraying of machine gun rounds), and back-up was too far out to do them any good. So if this moment of truth could not wait until they were out of this pickle – again, it had to be bad.
That, or she was just trying to keep him from freezing under fire again.
"I, uh, hear that's good for the soul. So..." he paused his very witty retort to pop around the corner of his half of the island to fire off a few more shots. When he ducked back, he panted dryly, "I'll be sure to hook you up with Father Allen."
She shook her dark head and protested, "No, I don't need a priest. I know – " She paused to duck as the wine glasses on the drying rack shattered above them. After returning fire, she fixed him with her most soul-searching of stares and confessed, "I know that you have a ring and you plan to propose."
Jack found his jaw dropping and his mind whirling a thousand different directions. 'How did she know? Only two people knew – his Gam-Gam and Nana Maria – and they would never tell… When did she know? … Why bring this up now?'
He must have voiced some of these thoughts aloud, because in between dodging another spray of the Swede's bullets and their ricochets and returning her own round of fire, she declared, "Not …the…point, Jack… I just wanted you to know that I – "
"Give me vhat I vhant!"
" – say yes," Peggy finished resolutely, as if the trigger-happy terrorist was nothing more than an annoying gnat.
But Jack knew better. Jack knew that they were both down to the last of their spare guns, and the cavalry was not here yet. Jack knew that she could only be saying this for one reason, and it filled him with futile rage.
"Goddammit, Marge!" he hissed furiously, "We are not going to die here! So you can shove that goodbye speech up - !"
"Die?" Peggy asked, her eyes wide with disbelief before filling with defiant fire, as she hissed vehemently back, "Screw that! We are going to survive this. And you're going to propose to me at Musso & Frank's just like you planned."
Over the sound of the Swede reloading, Jack found himself absurdly and desperately blurting, "But you already know that plan."
"I know," she agreed, smiling softly at him. Her dark brown eyes filling now with both love and determination, as she urgently demanded, "Promise me that you won't give up here, Jack. And – and that you'll be there with your Gam-Gam's ring?"
Jack looked at her – his fierce warrior woman with her dark curls in disarray and shimmering with broken shards of glass – and knew that he would follow her to the ends of the earth and back again, and no maniacal bastard was going to deprive his Marge and him of that adventure.
"I promise."
~A~
They did indeed survive that deathtrap.
As if Jack's promise was the inspiration she needed, a plan formed in her mind. Grabbing various cleaning ingredients, a dishrag, and the last remaining undamaged milk bottle, she jerry-rigged a Molotov cocktail that the Swede never saw coming.
A week later, she found herself at Musso & Frank's grill, enjoying their Grenadine Beef and the most nerve-wracking dinner with Jack.
If she could fire-bomb the Swede again, she would. If it hadn't been for him, she would have never experienced that moment in which she knew Jack had given up and was contemplating doing something terribly idiotic and self-sacrificing for her sake.
If it hadn't been for him, she wouldn't have made that panicked confession or those demands, and Jack wouldn't know that she knew his intentions for tonight and thus would not be able to torture her with that knowledge like he was tonight.
And was he ever torturing her, keeping her in ever bloody suspense.
Throughout their dating relationship, he had never used his suave silver-tongued wiles on her. For one, he knew that she would see right through it and that she would not appreciate it, and for another, he knew (she hoped) that she had fallen for the man beneath the persona that he presented to most of the rest of the world.
So why by all that was holy (or unholy for that matter) was he being charming and debonair and flirtatious now?
She had first suspected that it was because he was as nervous as she was and so he was hiding behind his armor. But then when he had smirked at her slight disappointment that there was no ring floating in her champagne or hidden in her dessert, she began to suspect him of secretly enjoying the rare occasion of having the upper-hand.
Peggy began to resign herself to the fact that the proposal would not actually be at the restaurant, when Jack asked for the check, and she fully came to accept it, when he escorted her to the front.
But then after he had assisted her with her evening wrap like that willowy blond chit so long ago, he circled around to her front and dropped to one knee.
There was a collective hush throughout the restaurant, even her blood quit pounding behind her ears, as Jack took both of her hands in his and declared, "I know that you already said that you would say yes, but I got to ask you…
"Will you go dancing with me after this?"
Peggy reeled as confusion reigned.
Her blood returned to its pounding...
That was not The Question...
There was no ring...
And there was mischief dancing in his blue eyes...
Would he really be this cruel?
And then…
He let go of her right hand to pull out the ring.
It was beautiful and elegant with its simple gold band and platinum face, in which six rose-cut diamonds circled like daisy petals the larger cushion-cut center. Her favorite detail was that each diamond was set within a starburst engraving, making it that much more radiant, but yet in an understated way. It would not be worth much in the current market, but it was rich in its history of love, or so Nana Maria had made sure to tell her, not long after he had asked his Gam-Gam for it. For that reason alone, it was perfect.
When she was able to raise her eyes from the ring to meet his, she saw that his mischievous gleam was replaced with fervent earnestness, and she heard his voice rasp with emotion, as he quietly asked:
"And then, will you dance with me at our wedding?
"And in our kitchen after the kids have gone to bed?
"And at our 50th anniversary?
"Our retirement party?
"Our welcome to the nursing home party?
"And –
"Yes!" she interrupted with a tearful but joyous laugh, much to their audience's delight as well as Jack's. More softly, she promised, "Yes, Jack, all of that."
Jack's shoulders sagged in relief, and he flashed her that soft contented smile of his that always turned her to mush, even as he hastily slid the ring onto her finger, as if he was afraid she would change her mind before he did so.
When she didn't pull away, he stood up and slowly tugged her to him, whispering huskily into her ear, "Good. Because, my dear Marge, I must confess that I can't imagine having any other partner but you."
A/N: Love? Moderately like? Hate? Favorite part?
Also, an image of the ring can be found here: diamonds in the library (dot com) / store- profile-sweet-heirloom-vintage-on- etsy/
It is the second picture down, if you're curious.
