The Tree Keeper's Promise Part 21

"Some water is all I need, dear."

As Angela returned to her chair, she saw that Papa had stopped holding Dorothy's hand, which might have helped Mark's nerves. Only now, Papa was draping his arm across her shoulders as he reclined against the sofa.

"We thought it best to tell you. We're engaged," Dorothy said.

"Yes, we are. Dorothy and I, we're goin' to tie the knot. I'll be the luckiest man in Sutton. Wouldn't you say?" He looked at Dorothy with a big grin.

"Yes, you will." She patted him on the knee, and Angela checked Mark for reaction. He'd been quiet so far.

"Congratulations, Papa, Mrs. Shaw," Mark finally said.

"Thank you, Mark. I know it may take some getting used to, but call me Dorothy. Please."

This request made Angela realize Dorothy would soon have a new name: Mrs. Shafer. That thought somehow provoked what? Jealousy?

Angela studied Mark. He seemed momentarily stunned. And Mrs. Shaw, the previously protesting, indignant Mrs. Shaw, had somehow been replaced by a warm-eyed, admiring woman. And Papa was still very much who he always was, only more of him. Yes, that was it. He took up more of the room and the air, as if he needed all the oxygen in the room to fuel his enthusiasm.

How charming they were, sitting there in her living room, talking and exchanging glances and touches like they'd been married half their lives. Well, they had been, just not to each other. Still, making it look easy, making it look like they belonged there and to each other.

Belonging. Why did Angela crave it and fear it at the same time?

Dorothy spoke again. "We have some other news to share. We're getting married in three weeks."

"So soon?" Mark asked.

"My mother's birthday," Dorothy said, settling the subject.

"We came for another reason. Angela, we know you and Mark are still making plans. Have you decided on a date?" Papa asked.

Mark spoke up. "We'll be talking about that tomorrow."

"We will?" Angela asked. "That's what you wanted to talk about?" She shouldn't have been surprised, yet she was anyway.

"No pressure, dear. We wanted to ask if you would consider ..."

"What she's trying to say is when you and Mark get married, we'd like to rent your house, if that's something you're agreeable to. Can't say I know what it's like to rent someone else's home, but Dorothy and I have talked about it. We want you and Mark to have the farmhouse to yourself."

Angela didn't know what to say, and by the look on Mark's face, neither did he.

"We'd have a place to live, and you'd have someone taking care of your house. Maybe that would solve both our dilemmas," Dorothy explained in her endearing English accent, which could make news of a root ca.n.a.l sound like an invite to a tea party.

All eyes were on Angela now. This was happening. She and Mark were getting married and, obviously, so were Papa and Dorothy. While she could tell Mark was trying to adjust to that new reality, it was her new reality that was taking shape in front of her. What better solution could she ask for?

"Of course you can. What a great idea." She paused, checking Mark's face, then Papa's. "Are you sure this will be okay for you, not living at the farm, Papa?"

"It'll be a change," Papa said as he stood. "We're going to be getting on our way. I turn in early." He looked at Mark as he said this.

Angela wasn't sure, but it looked like he winked.

"Can't say I know what it'll be like living somewhere else, but it's the right time. The trees are in good hands." He nodded to Mark and smiled at Angela.

After they left, Mark noted the time. "Looks like I better be going too. Are we still on for tomorrow?"

"Sure. Did I hear you right earlier? That you want to set a date?"

"I thought we'd talk about it," he said casually.

"Should I be worried?"

"Only if you want to get married in December," he said with a laugh and a good-bye hug.

Chapter 18.

Mark hadn't been to the chasm in years. As they parked and walked past the covered picnic tables, he reached for Angela's hand. The morning could not have been more crisp and clear. He hoped they could decide on a date today. But that wasn't the real reason he'd brought her here.

He woke at four in the morning with the perfect idea of how to explain the tree-keeper's promise. But now, in the light of day, none of it made sense.

There were two state-parks employees repairing the anchoring chain on one of the trash barrels and a couple with two small children at one of the tables.

He suggested they take Charley's trail around and hike back out through the chasm.

"And your leg will be okay?" Angela asked as she watched Mark walk.

"It's mostly fine," he said. "Not going to slow me down. You know how I've been spending time with Papa this year? Learning all I can about the trees?"

Angela nodded.

"When I became owner of the farm last year, I thought I officially became the keeper of the trees."

"Taking over for Papa," she said.

"Exactly. Or so I thought. Remember for Caroline's birthday she picked out two trees and Papa said they could cause a love match?"

"How could I forget?"

"Right. I couldn't believe there was more to the trees. After all this time, Papa still knew things about the trees he hadn't told me. So I asked him, more like I told him, I wanted to know everything there was to know."

They were a half of a mile down Charley's loop, the rocky path covered in bright orange and red leaves. A thin morning mist hung around the trees. A sparrow chirped and flitted on the ground, then flew to a branch.

"Does this have to do with us setting a date? Are we supposed to get married within a certain amount of time or what-the love expires?" She laughed as she said it, but her words had a nervous edge.

"No. Nothing like that," Mark rea.s.sured her. "Well, it does have to do with the trees. But we can get married when we want. When you want."

Mark continued. "Angela, the trees have an energy. I've noticed I can feel it. What I mean is, there's only one keeper at a time. And Papa wasn't ready last year."

"Ready for what?" She looked confused and for good reason.

"Let me start over. There's a promise every keeper makes when he becomes the keeper. I didn't even know about it. Papa said he wasn't ready last year, but since I asked to know everything there was to know, he said it was time."

"Time for what?"

"Time for me to make the promise."

Their steps were unison, their hands linked by a few fingers. Angela lifted her chin and looked straight ahead on the rocky trail. "What does it mean?"

Mark inhaled, hoping the fresh autumn air would give him the nerve he needed to say it out loud.

"The trees have an energy and feelings, and sometimes I can feel or sense them. It doesn't sound rational, and I'll understand if you don't buy it. I mean, I don't know if I would. Maybe that was why it took another year for me to be ready. If I hadn't felt some things-even gotten ideas from the trees, I might have thought Papa was making it up."

Angela was quiet.

Mark waited. Was she having second thoughts? "It's not like the trees talk to me or anything. Like Papa says, 'They don't speak English.'" He tried to laugh, but his voice trailed off.

She still didn't say anything.

"Look, do you want some time to think about it? Maybe I should have waited to propose, but I didn't know what I didn't know."

"Have you already made the promise, then?" she asked, but he couldn't tell if there were pain or sadness or confusion in her eyes.

"Yes. It wasn't a big deal, though. I mean it was, but it was just Papa, and I repeated after him, and that was it." Mark listened to his own words, wondering how they sounded to her. His insecurity took over.

"You don't have to marry me. If all this sounds too ... too far-fetched, I understand. We can call it off."

Angela stopped walking.

"Don't ever say that to me again. Unless you don't want to marry me. I know I don't have to marry you. But I love you. And we are not calling it off." She began walking again.

Mark caught up to her and reached for her hand. He looked into her eyes. "You mean it, don't you?" he asked.

Her eyes were wet. She nodded.

"What do you think about it-about me and the trees?"

"I don't know yet. But when I think of what we've been through together, I can't deny the miracles I've seen. I love you, and I've known from day one that you and the trees were a package deal." She had the faintest of smiles as she said this almost playfully. "Hold on a minute. What exactly did you promise?" she asked.

"To keep the trees from all forms of danger ... with my body, heart, and mind," he said nonchalantly.

"Just your body, heart, and mind? Is that all?" she asked but even more lighthearted than before. She pointed to his left leg. "So I can expect more of that?"

"I don't make a habit of this, no," he said. "But it does mean I'll take care of the trees and land so our family can have a home." He thought of Papa's words to Nana.

They'd come to the end of Charley's loop and could either walk back the way they'd come or hike through the chasm. There was a brook here, usually a small one tucked into the side of a rock wall next to the path. But with the week of heavy rain, it ran fuller and louder and had created a wider path. More like a stream. And by the look of the mud patterns, it had probably been a river last week.

"The sound-I love how loud it is. It has a way of drowning out everything. It clears my head, you know?" Angela said.

"We don't have to hike back through the chasm. We could stay here for a while and go back using the loop trail again." The chasm had some rockier parts-Devil's Coffin and Lover's Leap, not to mention Fat Man's Misery, the tomahawk-sliced rock tunnel. But Angela insisted. Yes, she loved the brook, but she hadn't come all the way to this chasm she'd read about just to turn around and go home without actually seeing it.

On they hiked. Descended, to be more specific. Though only a quarter of a mile in length, some granite walls stretched seventy feet high. They pa.s.sed by another stream and a good number of felled trees.

They were hiking through the chasm at the perfect time as the granite walls shielded them from full exposure to the sun. It must have been at least ten degrees cooler here.

"The irony isn't lost on me."

"What irony?" Mark asked.

"You bring me to Purgatory Chasm," she said it with a smirk, "to plan our wedding."

"Look, I can't help it if one of the prettiest places in Sutton has the same name as some after-life limbo."

"You mean a state of punishment and suffering."

Mark held up both hands. "You liked the trail and the brook, didn't you? I don't know where they got the name."

"It will be fine. I won't think of it as omen or anything."

"How about you choose the date, then? Fair enough?" Mark asked.

This question came at the same time Angela stepped on some uneven rocks and almost lost her footing. Mark grabbed her arm and held her long enough for her to regain her balance.

"Thanks. What do you mean, me choose? We both need to agree."

Mark waited until Angela had a taken a few more steps ahead of him and then suggested a double wedding with Papa and Dorothy.

Angela spun around, almost losing her balance again. "Are you out of your mind? That's in two weeks."

"We've known each other four seasons. Wasn't that the requirement?

"Yes. No. Sort of. I'm not even entertaining this," Angela said with another deliberate step on a rock nearer to the even ground.

"How about November?" he said dryly.

"Mark, be serious. I like your idea of me being able to choose the date. It needs to be sometime next year."

"Next year?"

"It's October. That's not as far away as it sounds."

"Fine, if you want a January wedding, it's a little cold, but it could work," Mark said.

Angela stopped and looked at him more closely. "You skipped December? Why? Why not December if you're in such a hurry?"

"Oh, I don't know. It may have something to do with a little tree farm we manage. Even I know better than to try to pull off a wedding in December."