I pictured us living near Rosie so she would never feel alone. I imagined family dinners, holidays, and children who would grow up knowing her laughter.
Sometimes Ben stayed on our porch after Rosie had gone inside. We talked about school, our hopes, and places we wanted to visit. I convinced myself there was something unspoken between us.
Perhaps I saw what I wanted to see.
Perhaps Ben loved me deeply, but never in the way I imagined.
Either way, I carried that hope for years.
Then, on a Sunday afternoon when I was twenty-two, Ben came to our house holding a small velvet box.
The moment I saw it, my heart began pounding.
Every secret dream I had ever entertained seemed to rush toward me at once. I thought he had finally come to say what I had been too afraid to admit.
He stopped in front of me.
“Is Rosie home?” he asked.
For a moment, I thought I had misunderstood.
“Rosie?”
“Your mom said she might be working in the garden.”
I stepped aside without answering.
From the kitchen window, I watched him cross the yard.
Rosie was kneeling beside the tomato plants, brushing dirt from her hands. When she saw Ben, she smiled.
Then he lowered himself onto one knee.
My breath left me.
He opened the velvet box. Rosie covered her mouth with both hands. Even from inside the house, I could see the tears filling her eyes.
Ben said something I could not hear.
