CHAPTER 19 THE TREE

Well, history up to now, indeed. The clock was ticking loudly from the foyer, and Oliver was counting the moments. Each hour, the

chimes reminded him gently that he had a mission. He was nervous. He found himself pacing the hallway near the foyer as he

returned from using the rest room near the kitchen. He lingered in the hallway, collecting himself. Johnny appeared, rounding the

corner with two full shot glasses. Seeing Oliver, he said: "Ahh, there you are... I was looking for you." and he held out a shot for

Oliver, and retained one for himself. "Here." Johnny handed one of the shots to Oliver. Oliver smiled and laughed as he said: "What is this, John?" Johnny said

quietly: "Its a nice single-malt scotch. I know you're nervous." Johnny held out his glass to clink with Oliver's. They quietly tapped their glasses together. Johnny

said: "Cheers." They did their shots, Johnny took the glass back from Oliver, and said: "Its all going to be okay. You're going to be great. She is crazy about

you." Oliver smiled at the encouragement and was grateful for the camaraderie with Johnny. Johnny went back toward the kitchen and gave Oliver a thumbs up as

we walked away. He had to tell the butterflies in his stomach to sling their hooks. Again. Here they were, at the Farrell's Bryn Mawr home on a Sunday in very late

Spring. Twenty-four hours ago, we were in New York and this all seemed so impossibly distant, in time and space. It was here, though, the time he planned.

They were all there because he had set this ball in motion. These were Grace's people and they really didn't even know him, and yet they all helped him make this

day happen. He was very touched by that, and then again, these were Grace's people, they adored her - would he expect any less? The afternoon was going very

well, Oliver though, noticed the time. It was nearly 5:00 PM. The sun was getting lower in the sky, trees and green grasses were getting that late afternoon dappling.

They couldn't have asked for a nicer day, the weather was cool and dry. He was starting to feel butterflies again. He had walked the house with Grace. She had shown

him the entire downstairs, her mother's music room and piano, the harp and various other instruments that were there. Liz was an active private teacher. Grace

showed him the kitchen and hearth, the various dens and parlors and pantries and butler's quarters. (They did not have a butler.) Oliver saw John Farrell's den and

his art collection. Some of the art on the wall in John's den was created by Liz throughout their marriage. She had painted scenes from their travels and their life.

Her work was very nice, and Oliver wondered whether artistic talent that the two Farrell women had was a genetic thing, or the result of nurturing, or, instruction. He

loved Grace's artwork, and now, he saw that Liz was a talented artist, too. She showed him the older portions of the house and the grinding wheel - a relic from the

distant past when the house actually ground their own grains for flours and feeds. When they got upstairs, she had also shown him her old room. It was changed, but

it was still her space. He sat down on the bed, he looked around and smiled. "I cannot quite believe I am sitting here, Grace." He laughed lightly, and so did she. He

looked around at the room, only a few of her childhood things were out. He picked up a small doll and then a tiny stuffed cat. She had a toy horse as well. Those were

tokens from her formative years, when she was a literal baby or toddler. She watched Oliver and wondered what was making the wheels turn in his head today. There

was something in his eyes she thought. He seemed to be almost distracted all day. She thought it was 'meet the family' jitters. That was all, she was sure. Grace

said: "It is certainly something I could not have predicted when I was hiding out in here on those weekends." She smiled wistfully at that memory. "I was so dumb..."

Oliver interjected: "Grace, you were by no means 'dumb'. You were being ethical. You were trying your damnedest to control love. So was I. You were unsure. I was

unsure, too. Try not to judge yourself for yesterday's thinking using today's wisdom." He looked at her like she was perfection, all love, all of it pure. "You will never

be 'dumb' to me. . . . You and I happened on our time – which is perfect. Absolutely perfect timing because we are standing here, right now, talking about this, in

your childhood home and bedroom. I think that is astounding and" he spoke very softly to her, "I find it very humbling. To be in this space…your sanctuary. . Grace,

you honor me by letting me see this. It is so special." He had walked over to her and kissed her cheek. She didn't speak. She couldn't. She just stared at him and

tried very hard not to cry at what he had just said. She took his hands and stood still, she looked into his eyes. They just were. They let themselves just 'be'. They

held that stance, in the quiet, with each other for a minute. In Grace's old room. "Wow." she thought. Grace collected herself. Oliver touched her cheek and replaced a

strand of her hair absent-mindedly. He kissed her hand. He took her hand and led her out of the room and down the hallway to the staircase that went downstairs.

Oliver said: "Come on, Miss Farrell. Show me the tree." Grace, behind him, holding his hand, said: "What? What tree?" Oliver stopped midway down the stairs in front

of her, almost catching her behind him, turned to her and said: "Your tree. The tree that you carved your initials in, that you climbed, that you played under." She

looked at him and said: "How do you know about my tree?" Oliver smiled at her: "Do you have a little brother named Johnny?" She laughed at this and said: "I see."

She asked him: "What did Johnny say about the tree?" Her hands on his shoulders. Oliver looked into her eyes and said: "He told me that you and he played there,

that you would read there, it was your special place." He stopped there. He suddenly thought that maybe she didn't want to share that place with anyone, not even

him. He thought to himself in a split second of panic: "Oh my God." Instead, he let the moment settle and softly asked her: "Can I see it, love?" He was standing on

the stairs, a step below her so that their faces met at the same height. She smiled at him and said: "Yes." She put her hands on his cheeks, pulled his face toward

hers, and kissed him. She said: "Let's go." He smiled at her and said softly: "Okay." Oliver was inwardly giddy as Grace took his hand and led him onward toward the

downstairs of the large house, through to the back of the terrace. It was oddly quiet. No Johnny. No Claire. Mom and Dad? She paused there with Oliver. She looked

around and commented: "Where did they all go? Is nobody around?" Oliver quickly said: "Darling, I'm sure they're around, just bustling around with something."

Grace looked at him and said: "Of course. You're right. …." She looked around again, and smiled at him: "Come on, Mr. Havens….I shall show you my tree…"She

looked back at him and said: "I promise you, it is very old and very boring – which is exactly why I love it." And she led him off of the terrace and onto the lawn,

heading toward a rather large, rather old tree. The tree was big and shady and there was a thick green lawn only a couple of yards away from its gnarly roots. On the

thick grass, there was a marble bench under its canopy that had seen the change of seasons for countless decades. The trunk of the tree was now so large, a couple

of grown men of average builds could not meet hands encircling this tree. It was full of lovely spring life, full of buds for the coming summer months. That tree was a

wonder, a respite for the world-weary. Oliver stood under it and leaned his hand onto its bark. He walked around it. Twice. He stopped and looked at ancient scars

inflicted by children with scrap lumber. He touched its bark again and leaned into it. He looked up into its branches toward the sky, seeing the blue through the not-

yet-in-full-bloom leaves. He said: "Did you and Johnny really carve your initials into this tree?" Grace laughed and said: "We did. You won't believe this, but they are

way up there." And she pointed to a spot about twenty feet off the ground. "When we carved them, we were kids. I was about ten or eleven, Johnny was about six, I

guess. The tree was a little bit smaller. We were adventurous little imps who climbed the tree. With one of my mother's old steak knives. Please, don't tell my mother."

She met his gaze with a smile. He let out a small laugh. She chuckled at this, too. "Johnny and I climbed up there and put our initials in this very tree. We thought we

were pirates." She laughed openly at this memory. "I am pretty sure that old steak knife was long ago swallowed up by the tree." Oliver looked at her intently,

studying her. "Is it a good place, this beautiful old tree?" He paused. He was smiling at her. She looked at him, her expression a little more serious than before. "What

do you mean, exactly?" He said: "Well, is it a happy place? What I mean is, do you still love this place?" She looked at him and looked up into the tree. She walked

over to where he was and touched the tree, putting her hand next to his. She locked eyes with him, smiling and said finally: "Maybe we can push it over three

feet….ready? one…two!" and she laughed, he laughed with her and pulled her into him and kissed her. "You're silly." She laughed at this and said: "Shhh. Don't tell

anyone." She said to him: "Yes, Oliver, I still love this place. This beautiful old tree." He stood up straight, took her hands in his. He was smiling and serious at the

same time. "Is this a good place?" he asked her. Grace looked at him, smiling, a little puzzled by his question. She asked: "A good place? What do you mean?" Oliver

looked at her and said: "Is this a good place to tell you that I love you?" He stopped and kissed her hands. He asked her: "Is this a good place to tell you that I cannot

live without you, that you are my first thought every morning, and my last thought at night?" He looked into her eyes, holding her hands. Grace watched him in slow

motion. Oliver continued: "That you are the love my life was waiting for?" He looked at her, lovingly searching her face. He continued, lowering his

voice, stepping closer to her: "Is this a good place to tell you that I want to be more than your boyfriend?" She was stunned. She could not speak; she was just

nodding 'yes' to him.

Oliver walked ahead of her with her hand in his and led her to the gleaming marble bench. He indicated that she should sit down, and she did. He sat down next to

her and continued what he started. "Grace…" He looked at her. His eyes looked very wet. He was suddenly unbuttoning his jacket front, taking from his inside pocket

the single red rose. He handed it to her and said to her: "I love you. I will give you roses no matter where we are, or what we are facing, I will give you roses and I

will give them to you like this…you are the love of my life, darling Grace…" and he kissed her properly, then and there. Grace said: "Oliver…that is so lovely.. . ..I

love you, too…." They held eye contact for many moments. In what seemed like slow motion, Grace, still holding onto the rose, watched as Oliver suddenly kissed her

hand, got off the bench and kneeled in front of her. He reached into his jacket pocket that he had avoided her being near all day and produced a teal-colored velvet

box. He cupped his hand over it. He was shaking and breathing as if he just took a flight of stairs. On his knee now, he looked up at her face. She was near tears. He

spoke very softly and was fighting his voice from breaking: "Grace.. .. ..Grace Ellen Farrell…you are my love…my soulmate. . . ." His voice did break. "I cannot imagine

a world.. that we live in…where we aren't . . .together as one…." He was not sure what the next words should be. "Grace, I cannot live without you. I want us to

spend our lives together. I cannot breathe without you." He was looking into her face. His eyes were welling up with tears of love and joy. "Grace, will you marry me?"

His hands brought up the box containing the ring. She was still in shock, her mouth open, tears welling in her own eyes. He opened the box, and showed her the

gleaming and sparkling ring, almost too beautiful to be real. She gasped. She looked at him, her head cocked ever so slightly at him involuntarily. She smiled and

furrowed her brow at the same time and said: "Yes. Oliver. Yes!" She wrapped her arms around him tightly. He kissed her passionately. Oliver said: "Let me put your

ring on your finger..please?" She was still utterly blind-sided by this…sudden…"oh my god!" "….engagement…to Oliver!" Her head was swimming. He pulled the ring

out of its case and took her left hand in his. He kissed the ring lightly, he kissed her finger lightly. He looked into her eyes, still on his knee, and said: "I love you,

Grace. I promise you, I will be a good husband. I love you so much." And he gently slipped the ring on her finger. She put her hands gently on his face and kissed

him. He ended up on both of his knees kissing her, his trousers getting grass stains on the knees. He didn't care, in fact he loved it. She stood up and pulled him up.

He kissed her again and again. She laughed and so did he. Grace said to him as she hugged him tightly: "Oliver, I love you so, . . I've only dreamed about this...I

never actually... thought . . ." She kissed his lips, her hands on his face, he hugged her to him. He said: "I am the luckiest man in the world, Grace. I mean it." They

kissed again. He stopped to look at her ring, her finger suddenly changed by it. He was no longer her boyfriend, but her fiancé. He looked into her eyes as they stood

under the tree. They locked into their familiar and meditative state of only seeing each other. He stepped closer and kissed her. They held each other tightly for a few

minutes. Their reverie was broken though, because suddenly, there was a noisy bunch of people, namely Liz and John, and Claire and Johnny coming down from the

terrace with champagne and fluted glasses. Liz spoke first: "Well, it looks like we have reason to celebrate!" Oliver and Grace stood, absolutely beaming at each other,

hand in hand. Oliver kissed her again, turned to them and said quite boldly: "She said YES!" and they all cheered and gushed, clapped, they hugged Grace's mother,

Oliver shook both John and Johnny's hands It became clear to Grace that this was all a set up, they were all in on it. She laughed as she hugged her mother and

father. "You two are very good actors. You got me really good…and in the best possible way..!" and they laughed and cried tears of grace. For Grace. Oliver said to

Johnny privately: "Johnny, you have my word and my bond. I love her with all my heart." John shook his hand and said: "That is good enough for me, Oliver. I

consider myself as having a new big brother. Welcome to the family!" John Farrell, Sr. shook Oliver's hand and said: "Well, Oliver, you did it! Well done, and I never

had any doubt. Congratulations!" Oliver looked at him and said: "Thanks, John. This is one of the best things I have ever done!" He had his arm around Grace; he

looked at her with pure adoration. John gave one of the chilled bottles to Oliver to open. The cork flew very high above them and as luck and love would have it, was

quickly lodged in the crevices of a branch high above them. In 'the tree'. They all cheered. Claire held an empty glass for Oliver. Claire was smiling and almost crying

herself. Oliver poured the first glass of champagne and handed it to Grace. He said: "For you, my love." Grace accepted it, still holding the rose he gave her (That rose

would be dried and pressed in a book for over 60 years – one of their granddaughters would find it and all of Oliver's love letters to her in 1996.) Claire held another

glass for him. They all had a full glass of bubbly; Liz and John were absolutely beside themselves with joy. Johnny was quiet and holding onto his champagne flute,

holding back the tears. Claire soon joined his side, he kissed her immediately. He was so happy Grace had found love – well, he knew she had found it, but he was

never sure until fairly recently that her love was not unrequited. Johnny smiled at the thought to himself: "It's requited, alright, that's for sure." He liked Oliver a lot,

he thought he was a nice man who was good to his sister. She loved him. They all knew he was a wealthy guy – the world's richest man – but, if he were an abusive

jerk, he would have been beneath Grace. There was no amount of money that would change that. Oliver was not abusive. It was not in his DNA. He was tough, but

only with other people who decided to match wits and lock horns with him: business, industry, political leaders. None of those people or things or ideals seemed to be

very important now that his heart was occupied with less toxic, more benign – no, more healing feelings that involved his ever growing feelings toward Grace. He was

still falling in love with her, now more than ever. He was going to have the love of his life become his wife. He had asked her and she had said "Yes!". He

was indeed the world's richest man. John Farrell held up his hand briefly, getting everyone to quiet for a moment. He said: "Congratulations, to Grace and Oliver. We

love you both and we are thrilled at your engagement! Let us raise our glasses to your love, luck, good health and years of happiness!" There were audible and loving

agreements. "Here, here!". They drank a toast, everyone wandered over to Grace to look at her new ring. Johnny joked, of course and said: "Jeez, Oliver….tryin' to

make me look bad…that is one heck of a ring…" and he whistled his approval. Claire was perfectly happy with the ring she wore from Johnny, it was his grandmother's

ring and she cherished it. There was no jealousy. Oliver was a billionaire. Of course, Grace's ring was a show stopper. Oliver watched as Grace interacted with all of

them, her face was aglow with the excitement of the day, the moment. Oliver watched for a few minutes, letting the energy of it all play out. He had a smile on his

face that he could not stop if he wanted to. He took Grace's hand and walked her a few feet away under the tree. He kissed her and said: "I hope this adds to the love

you feel for this tree. I hope that our love adds to the magic." He spoke quietly and only to her. He had his forehead gently touching hers. They melted into each other

in an embrace. Liz was sniffing back her tears, thrilled that her oldest child and only daughter was engaged to a good man whom she loved. He also happened to be

the world's wealthiest man, and as enticing as that detail sounds, Liz also knew that Grace and he would marry for love. It was not a transactional relationship. They

actually loved each other. It meant everything to her. She had a solid marriage with a sweet and easy-going man whom she adored. John and Liz Farrell were into

their mid-fifties and still had a very vivid and active 'personal' life. Theirs was also a marriage built on love. Liz and John could not be more happy for their daughter

to have found the same.

As they all sipped their champagne and wandered out onto the lush grass, the memory was made. When they were a good fifteen feet away from the shade of the

canopy, Oliver turned to look back at the tree. Grace was holding his hand. They both stopped to look at the tree. They turned to look at each other. Oliver smiled at

her. They didn't speak words, they just got lost in the love of the moment. He put his arm around her shoulder as they walked slowly, together, back toward the

house.