Day 163

A couple of weeks had passed since Walter had proposed and life had barely slowed down for me to take a breath. This was the first time we'd had to just sit in the loft and be together since that day.

Ralph was at the observatory with Sly for the semiannual open house. It was a night when the observatory gave special benefactors and scientists not directly affiliated with the university the opportunity to use the school's biggest telescope. It was one of Ralph's favorite nights of the year.

Walter was simply relaxing on the sofa, his mind going a million miles a minute I'm sure. As I joined him, he pulled his thoughts back down to earth and smiled. He shifted on the sofa and moved his legs apart in invitation so I could settle my hips between them, laying back against his chest.

I sighed contentedly as he rested his cheek against the top of my head. He twirled a lock of my hair between his dexterous fingers.

We were silent for a moment, enjoying the pleasure of being together. I held my hand up and allowed the glow of Walter's bank of computers to illuminate the gem of my new ring. I smiled as I marveled at its sparkle. Walter caught my hand in his and just held it gently for a few moments. I could feel the intensity of his gaze on the ring from over my shoulder and wondered what he was thinking about so intently.

"Walter, please tell me the story of this ring."

Walter sighed and folded my hand into his, resting them both lightly on my abdomen, "I was hoping I wouldn't need to. It's just fairy tale nonsense."

I was definitely intrigued. There was more of a story here than I had imagined.

"The only reason I gave it to you and not one from a jewelry store is that Megan insisted. She believed that you would find the ring and its story romantic."

"Well, now I'm dying to hear the story. I don't care if it's fairy tale nonsense, I would love to hear it. In fact, I would love to hear it because it is fairy tale nonsense as you so descriptively put it." I told him.

The idea of Walter O'Brien telling me a fairy tale might be the most alluring part of this whole thing.

I thought you might say that. Walter sat up a bit straighter, cleared his throat, and began almost as a recitation. "The Tale of Aveline's Ring." I was surprised, as Walter spoke his Irish accent slipped out, his cadence turned more lyrical.

I asked him about it later and he told me that Megan had been an aspiring writer before her MS took a turn for the worse and she had written the story. Of course, I didn't remember it word for word, but I convinced Walter to let me make a copy of Megan's version of the story, which I copied into this journal.

My great-grandmother, Aveline, and my great-grandfather, Patrick, had married. They had only known each other a short while, but their love was true and brightly burned. Aveline was an English noblewoman who gave up a life of privilege and luxury to marry her love Patrick, an Irish farmer. They didn't have much, but they had each other. They didn't have much, but they had each other.

One fine morning as the sun rose, they walked from their farm to the nearby village of Callan. On the path to the market for supplies, they happened upon an itinerant peddler, on his way to the market as well. As he spied the young couple walking along the path to the village hand in hand, he called to them.

Patrick and Aveline joined the old man on his journey to the market. As they walked, he asked what their business was in the village. He asked if they were going to the market, and if so, perhaps he could show them his wares. Patrick agreed. The peddler had a fine variety of items for sale and Aveline marveled over a soup pot. She spotted a sack of finely milled flour and even discovered a few flower seeds for the garden she hoped to plant in the spring.

After a bit of friendly bartering, Patrick and the peddler agreed on the price for the items. The trio reveled in the serendipity of their meeting. Patrick and Aveline wouldn't need to travel all the way to the village market. They had found all they had needed.

The peddler agreed that their meeting was most fortuitous. Ever perceptive, the peddler remarked, "I can't help but notice that the fine lady doesn't even have a proper wedding ring." Aveline blushed and Patrick had a brief shadow of sorrow cross his face.

"Our marriage was not something either of us would have foreseen and everything surrounding it happened rather quickly. I am hoping with the autumn harvest that I will be able to set aside enough for a quality gold band." Patrick hastily explained.

"A plain gold band on such a lovely finger? That would be a shame, sir. After talking to you good people and seeing the depth of devotion and love between you, I believe I may have something that might suit."

Patrick waved him off. "I have no money for a wedding ring today."

But the man ignored him as he rummaged through his rucksack. At last, he found what he was looking for. He pulled a small black velvet bag out of its depths, opened the bag, and dropped the contents into his other hand.

Aveline gasped at the delicate beauty and fine details of the ring from its place in the peddler's filthy palm. "It's beautiful." Aveline marveled as the sun caught the center gem and it sparkled as if it were a source of light itself, instead of the reflection.

Seeing his bride's reaction, Patrick longed to purchase the ring for her, but it was far beyond his means as a farmer. "But surely sir I can not afford this ring." Disappointment was obvious on the young man's face.

"That's my good luck then because it's not for sale at any price." the peddler chuckled.

"What are you playing at, man?" Patrick demanded.

"This is no ordinary ring. It may not be bought or sold, only freely given to one who knows the meaning of true love and will keep it safe. I was given this ring by an old woman who found my wares to her liking when I was but a young man. She instructed me to give it only to my future bride. And then, when the time was right, pass it to another who also knew the meaning of true love, along with the story of the ring. I agreed not sure if I truly believed the tale she told. I had never met a woman whom I desired to be my bride, and I thought to keep the ring until the next town and sell it. But by the time I got to the market, I had changed my mind. Romantic fool that I was, even in my youth.

"It was nigh five years later before I met the woman who would be my bride and wear the ring. She wore the ring for our entire marriage and was never moved to gift the ring. She told me that perhaps since I had been given the ring it was mine to give not hers. She joined the angels in heaven several months ago and I have traveled alone since. I have never been moved to gift it until meeting the pair of you today.

"I have carried it with me for many months and had forgotten about it until the moment I saw the two of you on the road. I knew as I spoke with you, Patrick, that this ring was meant for your Aveline. I give it to you."

Patrick's eyes widened in wonder as the old man carefully placed the ring in Patrick's palm and Patrick curled his fingers around it in wonder.

"Aveline, as the keeper of this ring, you are the one who will know, who must decide, who to give the ring to when the time is right." With teary eyes, Aveline solemnly accepted the responsibility. The old man watched, as with unsteady hands, Patrick slipped the ring on Aveline's finger, sealing their love with a brief but tender kiss.

The peddler, his work done, bid them farewell, and continued to make his way toward Callan village and the market. Aveline and Patrick watched him disappear into the distance before they turned in the opposite direction and returned home, their hearts lifted with the magic of a chance encounter and the kindness of a stranger.

When he finished, I turned on his lap so I could face him. "That was beautiful, Walter! Did it really happen that way?" Paige toyed with the ring on her finger.

"I know that Megan embellished some aspects of the story when she decided to write it more as a fairy tale than a historical account. So while I wouldn't rely on its complete accuracy, I do believe the general scope of the story is true. At least to the point that our great-grandmother relayed the story.

Walter continued, "Our great-grandmother often told Megan stories of when she was young and that was one of her favorites. Megan told me that story often growing up since Granny gave the ring to her. She would even show me the ring with great ceremony. Telling me Granny's stories was something she enjoyed doing, even when the MS had her fighting so hard and there was almost nothing more she could do."

"I didn't know you knew your great-grandmother. Did she live with you?"

"Yes, she lived with us until she died. I don't like to talk about her that much. I was only 6 years old when she died."

I sighed, feeling the loss for Walter, since he brushed off the story of living with his Granny so casually. I admired the ring once again and then turned to straddle his lap. "I'm so glad you said 'Yes.' he told me with a smile.

I kissed him softly and returned the smile. "I'm so glad you asked."