One year later [Today]…

It's six thirty in the damn morning, who is playing music? I slapped at my radio-alarm clock with all the grace of a drunk cow, none of the buttons doing anything to stop the sound that had woken me up. I did manage to succeed in turning the radio on, creating a horrible clashing of music that only served to make me more unhappy. I hauled myself into a sitting position and picked up the clock, carefully finding the "off" button and silencing the static-y noises it was producing. The music that had woken me up wasn't horribly loud, it was actually at a pretty reasonable volume for six thirty in the morning. The house was still old and fixable, and one of those fixes was a lack of insulation within the walls; they were so thin you could practically phase through them. One of the things further down my to-do list was to have some insulation blown into the outer walls at the very least, so our air conditioners worked less on trying to cool the outside and more on trying to cool us. At least I'd fixed that hole in the ceiling, though; since Elsa hadn't taken to my idea of installing a fireman's pole for us to zip down into the den from the upstairs bathroom, for whatever reason, I had been sure to patch that up as soon as I could.

As I got to my feet and walked over to the dresser to find some clothes, I realized that most of the noise wasn't in fact coming from music, but from someone singing. I smiled as I pulled on a pair of boxers. I knew who was playing music. I put on a pair of basketball shorts and waddled out of the room, my legs still stiff from sleeping. The floorboards creaked beneath my bare feet, but the steps were thankfully sturdy. The stairs led down from the upstairs hallway, where there were two bedrooms and a full bath, to the front door of the house. Upstairs had become a quiet place for the two of us. The spare bedroom had become Elsa's little project, and she had turned it into a charming, rustic-looking reading room with shelves and shelves of books she had collected over the years. There were some comfortable chairs in there too; more than once, I had fallen asleep in there on accident. There was also a futon in the reading room that Anna used on the rare occasion she would come to visit during vacations. The younger girl was nearing the end of her high school career now, and she was looking for a job in the city. Elsa and I had talked about letting her sister rent out the spare bedroom, since our house was so much closer to the city than Aarondale, and I would partition a section of the den into a new reading room, but all that was still far enough off and in a grey enough area that we weren't losing sleep over it.

The outer wall was to my right, so I turned left into the den which Elsa had also put together herself. Well, when I say "put together," I mean she told me which things went where and I carried them around for her. But it was very nice, the walls a calm eggshell white with dark brown leather couches and armchairs arranged around black-oak furniture. There were paintings of forests and lakes hung on the walls, which I personally hadn't cared for when Elsa had started putting them up, but now I liked sitting in the armchairs and looking at them with a cold beer in one hand and the TV remote in the other; the news simple white noise as I let my mind wander to the serene places captured within those frames.

Attached to the den was the dining room, which we never really used. We had hosted Elsa's godparents for Christmas last year, and I think that was the first and only time we'd ever set places at the big black-oak table that dominated the room. We normally used it as a place to pile books, mail, bills, coats, or whatever else we would shed on our way through the house. I wasn't really sure why we even had this room decorated like we did. This would have been a perfect place for a reading room, it even had a fireplace in the wall, but Elsa wanted to have a proper dining room so we could entertain her friends from work…"eventually."

The only other room left to enter was the kitchen, and that was where I found the source of the music. The sun was breaking through the window that looked out over the fields out back, lighting up the whiteness of the back-splashes and tile countertops. The table on the other side of the room had a dirty plate in front of one of the chairs, and a half-finished cup of coffee still steaming into the air. That was really our dining room; if we weren't having pizza-and-a-movie night, and one of us wasn't out of the house, we ate every meal at the kitchen table. That table had seen lots of laughs, lots of tears, and more than its fair share of arguments, but it was still a good place to be day-in and day-out. On the counter to my left was a laptop, open and playing music. I smiled, tracking up to the stove and finding the source of the singing. Elsa was bobbing back and forth in time with the beat, spatula in hand, and singing along in a much louder tone than I'm sure she was intending to:

"…And I know-oh I'm never letting this go-oh-oh.

I'm stuck on you;

Woah-oh, woah-oh,

Stuck like glue.

You and me, baby, we're stuck like glue.

Woah-oh, woah-oh,

Stuck like glue.

You and me baby, we're stuck like glue…"

I snuck up behind her and grabbed her around the waist. She squeaked in panic, spinning around in an instant. When her wide eyes finally determined what it was that had surprised her, she covered her face with her hand and started giggling. "Oh my God, baby," she said breathlessly, "you scared me so bad! I almost hit you with a frying pan!"

I smiled. "Sorry," I said, drawing her in close and giving her a kiss. I looked over her head and saw a pan on the stove filled with the slowly cooking beginnings of scrambled eggs. Maybe it was because of the way Momma had always treated me, or maybe it was just me being me, but I really liked it when Elsa did things to take care of the house. Cooking, cleaning, decorating; it scratched an itch in my heart and really made me feel at home. It also didn't hurt that she was a fantastic cook. And it wasn't even as though I wanted a housewife, either. Elsa was the one with a job at the moment, not me. I was spending all my time fixing the house and building new things for the farm and prepping the fields to grow commercial crops, none of those things really brining any money in for us. We were living off of Elsa's salary, meager as it was, but still making due. I had set up a little personal garden for us that I tended to, and we grew enough vegetables to keep us happy. I had been planting small rows of produce we didn't really need and selling it so Elsa didn't have to fund my little project too, but once I got the commercial crops up and going I wouldn't need to worry about who was paying for what any more.

I gave Elsa's back a small rub and walked back over to her computer. "I didn't know you liked Sugarland," I said, leaning over and switching the iTunes window to her Song library.

She scoffed. "Really? Almost six years together and you still don't think I like country music?"

"I'm only teasing! I know it's grown on you!" I scrolled down the list, looking over her tracks. She loved music, and even if I didn't know that about her already, I would have been able to tell from exactly how diverse her selection was. I clicked back to her Playlists and scrolled down that list. The one she was playing from now was labeled "Home," and looking through it I saw it was full of upbeat, poppy music. I switched it to "Shuffle" and pressed the skip button. The song changed to "Ignorance" by Paramore, and I wrinkled my nose.

"Aww, no; I had a bunch of songs lined up!" I turned and looked at Elsa, who was looking over at me with a slight look of disappointment on her face. She was wearing a black pinstripe skirt and suit coat with a frilly white blouse underneath, her hair unbraided and framing her face which she had powdered with a whisper of foundation and light purple eye shadow. She had also put on some red lip gloss, pulling together the look of an experienced but modestly understated businesswoman. The school she had been working at was very particular about the professionalism of their faculty.

"I didn't know, my fault," I said sheepishly, hitting the skip button again. The song name was in Italian, I figured, considering it was by someone named Andrea Bocelli. I clicked off the playlist and back to her Songs library, looking for something the both of us would enjoy. "Although, I should be allowed to change it up a bit, considering what you'd been playing woke me up."

"Oh, no, did it? I'm sorry, I thought I was being quiet!"

"Don't worry," I said, "I should have probably gotten up anyways; I need to finish up a couple things today that might take a while."

"Okay, then." I heard Elsa scrape the bottom of the pan with her spatula, helping the eggs to gum up and scramble correctly. "I have to get to the school a bit early today, too; the kids are supposed to be having their camp concert today, and Kimmy needs help setting up the music stands."

"Who'd've thought y'all would have so many kids at the music camp this summer?"

Elsa shrugged. "I dunno, but we're thankful they've been having a good time so far. There are so many of my students there, it's like school never ended."

"Now you have even more time to teach them the recorder!"

"Oh, hush, you! I do more than that!" We smiled at one another. Elsa's job was one of many hats; music teacher, receptionist, substitute, hall monitor, even emergency lunch lady at times. The kids were only in elementary school, so their world had no more worries than whether or not they would be able to catch the new episode of Power Rangers or whatever it was they watched these days. It made me feel like an old man that I couldn't even guess at what kids watched on TV.

My finger paused on the scroll bar as an artist's name caught my eye. Brett Eldredge? I scanned over the list of songs. A sly smile crept over my face as I noticed the number of plays on each of the tracks. Well, well…does my girl have a favorite? I peered over my shoulder at her. She was scratching her cheek, pushing strands of hair away from her lip gloss. Her eyes swung my way for a moment. "What?" she asked.

I grinned. "Hold on a second." She raised her eyebrows. I turned back to the computer and double clicked on one of the Eldredge tracks, jacking up the volume as high as I could. As it started up, I stood up from the counter and turned to her, unable to stop myself from smiling. I took a deep breath and, as the lyrics began to ring out, started to sing along.

"Well, I just met you a couple hours ago

My last night in town, hey, wouldn't you know…"

A big smile crept over Elsa's face, and she put down her spatula and brushed her hair away from her face. She took a couple steps toward me, her heels clicking on the wood floor, and I reached out a hand to her.

"I'd get hooked on a girl with blue diamond eyes

Down here in Mexico, oh…"

She took my hand and I took hold of her waist, guiding her in time with the music as we started to dance across the kitchen.

"Now you're walking up, asking me to dance.

Smiling that smile and reaching out your hand.

Well ,there's a move or two I'd like to show you

While I've still got the chance…"

Elsa laughed loudly as I spun her around.

"Well you've got the soul and you know how to use it;

Put your hand on my hip 'cause you know that I'll lose it.

You got my heart racing like there's nothing to it,

Falling in love to the beat of the music!…"

We twirled around the kitchen to the tune of the guitar and the sound of my voice as I belted out the entirety of the song. Dancing like this was something we'd done a lot of in the past year. Elsa liked it, I liked it, and we couldn't think of a reason not to dance whenever we could. Whether it was at town hall functions, ballroom dancing lessons at the community center, or just right here in the kitchen, neither one of us ever denied the other a dance. And to think that Elsa had once refused to dance with me at junior prom, yet here she was in high heels spinning and stepping like she was born to do it.

As I held out a final "*yeah*," and the last of they cymbal crash died down, Elsa slid up against my chest and sighed. "One thing about you country boys is you've got the best accents," she said dreamily.

I chuckled. "Well, thank'ya, ma'am," I replied, really hamming up my drawl as hard as I could, "Y'all 'r too kind."

Elsa laughed. "Oh, I could listen to you say anything."

I smiled. "Booger."

She pulled a face like she had just smelled a cow pat. "Okay, maybe not 'anything'…"

"No take backs!" I poked her in the sides, and she giggled. Her fingers wriggled quickly beneath my arms onto my shirtless ribs, and I started giggling too. "Okay, okay," I pleaded, "take backs are okay!"

Elsa called off her tickles and ran her hands over my chest. "Right, not 'anything,' but most things."

"Anything in particular?"

She bit her lip. "I like it when you say 'love.'"

I raised an eyebrow. "Oh, do you now?" She nodded eagerly. I craned my neck down towards her. "Love."

"Oooh," she shuddered, "exactly."

I smiled wide. "Love," I said again, and again she made a little gasping sound. "Looooooooove."

"Enough, enough; you'll give me a heart attack! I have to go to work today, I can't be swooning so early in the morning."

I chuckled, leaning down and brushing my nose against hers. "I 'looove' you, Elsa."

"I love you too." She reached up and met my lips. She wrapped her hands around my neck. Our lips parted for a moment. "I love you so much," she whispered.

In my closed eyes, I could see clearly what those words meant. They were the ultimate symbol of who I was to Elsa. I saw our first date at the county fair, when I had shared about Tay and she had told me about her parents. I saw the day I had proposed to her at the pond, and I remembered the joy in her eyes when she realized that I was actually asking her to marry me. I saw the night I had stood up against Pop, and even though I had said some things I wasn't proud of, Elsa still wanted me to spend the night at her godparents so we could be together when we needed each other the most. I saw the day we had met her aunt and uncle, when I had proven to myself that nobody could tell me I wasn't meant to be with Elsa. I saw our wedding night, and remembered how softly she had whispered to me when the day ultimately wound down: "You're the only one I'd ever trust like this. I think…I think I'm finally ready." I saw the night she had found me boozing myself in that bar and she pulled me out of the funk I had descended into. And I remembered the weeks after we'd bought the house, when it was still a dump, and how she'd spend the nights in one of my old t-shirts to keep warm from the draft coming through the window.

In my closed eyes, I could see that she meant forever with those words. I couldn't think of anything better than forever. All I did was kiss her again. And she kissed back. If that was good enough for her, then it sure as Hell could be good enough for me.

Then she rocked back on her heels suddenly, her face scrunched up and frowning. "Do you smell something?"

I huffed a half-laugh. "Really killing the moment, there, girly."

Elsa shook her head. "No, I'm serious, do you not smell…" She looked over to the stove. "Oh no!" She scurried away to the pan with the eggs, which was beginning to waft black smoke into the kitchen air. "No, no, no," she said rapidly, flipping the burners off and moving the pan away from the hot surface. The eggs were blackened and hard looking, and Elsa quickly ran cold water over them in the sink to smother the smoke. "Oh, my God, I completely forgot about these!"

I shrugged. "It's fine, Elsa, they're just eggs." My ears picked up something coming from her computer. Chase Rice? I checked the song title: "Ready Set Roll." I raised my eyebrows. "Wow, I guess country really has grown on you."

"That's what I've been saying!" She scraped the charred remains of the eggs into the garbage and put the dishes in the sink. Her eyes drifted to the clock, and suddenly she was panicked again. "Oh, shoot! I'm late!"

"What?"

"I'm late! I'm going to be late!" She frantically scrambled around the kitchen, grabbing things off of counters and tossing dishes into the sink. "Ohhhhhh," she moaned, "I completely lost track of time! Baby, can you pack up my computer?"

"Yep, yep," I said, doing just that.

"Thank you so much." She sighed. "Oh, I can't believe I lost track of time! And I burned the eggs! Now I'm late and you don't have any breakfast! I'm so sorry! I should've—"

"Elsa! Elsa!" I grabbed her by the shoulders and held her in place. "Calm down. Don't worry about the eggs any more, I'll be okay. Just focus on getting to work, okay?"

"But, what are you going to eat for breakfast?"

"I can…hmm…" I paused. "I think I might be able to, like, pour milk in a bowl? Or something like that? I remember doing it once before at some point." Elsa rolled her eyes, unimpressed with my sarcasm. "I'm an adult, Elsa, I can make myself breakfast." I handed her the computer bag. "Now g'awn, girly, git! Don't be late for work!"

She grabbed a hat off the coatrack and pressed it down on top of her head. It was one of my old, faded ball caps with some landscaping company logo on the front from when I had worked there in high school. I must have been making a face or something, because she gave me an irritated look. "It's sunny on my way there, okay? And again in the afternoon, because the sun is going down in the other direction."

I put my hands up. "I don't remember saying anything," I said, "and if I did, it should have been to tell you that I like that look on you." She was already out the back door to where I had parked the truck. I opened the screen door and called after her. "Hey! It's pizza-and-a-movie tonight; your pick!"

She groaned. "Really? I must have forgotten." She threw open the door of the cab. "I'll stop at Redbox on my way back."

"And I'll call for pizza," I said. She stepped up onto the kick plate and hauled herself up into the cab. "And, text me before you rent the movie!"

"If I do that, it's not really my pick, then, is it?" She shut the door, pushing her bag into the passenger's seat. I looked at the key rack next to my head and smiled. I turned back to Elsa and watched as her hand instinctively went to the ignition, but found nothing. She bent over and looked at the keyhole, and I laughed when she slammed her head back into the headrest. I grabbed the keys off their ring as she kicked the door open. "Here you go, sweetie," I said, jingling them in front of my face. I raised them to show her I planned on tossing them, and she raised her hands to catch. With the best aim I could manage, I lobbed them over the dirt driveway and they landed right between her two palms.

"Thanks, baby!" She ducked her head back into the cab and turned the engine over.

I signaled her to roll her window down. Once she did, I called out, "Drive safe, Elsa; I love you! Have a good day at work!"

"I love you too, baby! I'll see you tonight!" She threw the gear into reverse and turned the truck around before speeding off towards the road. She had a bit of a drive to get to the school just outside the city, but it wasn't as though she was going to be horribly late; she was her kind of late, where early is on-time and on-time is late. I turned and let the screen door shut behind me.

A typical morning, yet again. But, hey; if that's what typical is, I'd be happy to slip into a rut any time.

Because seeing Elsa all dressed up, but with her hair down in a ball cap, reminded me that she was still a city girl at heart, with country just barely sprinkled on top. Everything had pace, everything had a schedule. And without that pace, without that drive, I would have never known what it was like to want.

I would have never known her.

And knowing her will forever be where it's at.

[OOC: Hope you enjoyed reading! If you go to YouTube and put the following sequence after the main URL, you'll find the video of Dustin Lynch's "Where It's At"; the song that inspired this story: /watch?v=QsRMlR0CUt8 ]