Tradition
"Up you go, son."
In one smooth motion, Harmon Rabb, Senior, lifted his son into the brightly colored roller coaster car and then climbed in beside him.
"Hold on tight," he instructed, and Little Harm obediently grasped onto the handle bar in front of him.
"This is going to be our last ride," Harmon explained, looking out over the old amusement park a little wistfully. "They're going to tear this place down soon." He flashed a grin at his son. "But they'll know we were here."
He pulled a small knife out of his pocket and carefully carved three neat block letters into the side of the car.
HR2.
Little Harm watched his father intently, although he was too young to understand the meaning of the carving.
"Don't worry, son. You'll understand someday. Now are you ready to ride this roller coaster?"
Little Harm nodded eagerly. "Of course, Daddy. I want to fly!"
~*~o~*~
"Harm, what are we doing?" Mac asked.
The snow was coming down steadily again, and the temperature was quickly dropping, so she was puzzled as to why Harm had asked her to come outside to the barn.
"Following Christmas Eve tradition," he replied.
"Aren't we a little far from the Wall this year?"
"This is a different wall. Come on."
Harm pulled open the heavy door to the barn and closed it tightly behind them once they were inside. He shook the snowflakes from his jacket while Mac did the same. He hung the lantern on the side of the ladder to the hayloft, throwing out just enough light for them to see their cold puffs of breath.
Then he headed up the ladder, and Mac followed. She watched him curiously as he paced the hayloft and brushed away the dust in several places, running his fingers over the grain of the wood, as if he were searching for something.
"Mac," he finally said, taking her hand. "Look here."
Mac squinted in the dim light, and she could just barely make out the words.
Harm and Trish.
Two names carved into the wall of the hayloft, as if they had been engraved on their own memorial so many years ago.
"Mac."
Her name was softer than a whisper on his tongue. Even in the darkness, she could feel the fierce intensity in his eyes focused entirely on her, and it brought a flush to her face in the chilly winter air. His hand tightened around hers, pulling her close, his other hand reaching up to caress her cheek and the warmth of his body setting her on fire as he captured her lips in a long, lingering kiss.
At last, he drew back and rested his forehead against hers.
"Marry me," he whispered.
Mac's heart leapt into her throat. "What?" she asked breathlessly.
Harm pressed another kiss to her lips as he reached into his pocket and withdrew a small black box, opening it to reveal a snow white diamond.
"Mac, you're my partner…and my best friend...and now I'm asking you to be my wife."
And on that snowy Christmas Eve night, when Mac looked deep into the eyes of the man she knew she was meant to be with, she saw the iron walls around his heart crumbling down, and she felt the walls around her own heart doing the same.
