My very first blog post is a wedding present to Anna Meade and Michael Loy as part of the Dark Fairy Queen Writerly Bridal Shower (#DFQWBS). True love prevails!
Anna and Michael -- I raise a glass to a happy marriage and a lovely life. xo
When
the Rain Came
By
Leslie Fulton
eBook:
Yes
The drought had been vicious that year. Trees
sulked, flowers refused to bloom. The river was oily and sluggish, its
waterfall a silent clamber of rocks.
It was taking its toll on animals and people too.
Birds refused to sing. Woodland creatures only stirred from their burrows to
listlessly look for desiccated acorns. Folks were ornery when they could summon
up the energy—most of the time they sat on their porches and stared out at the
fallow fields.
It was a bad time.
A few bright spots shone through. One defiant lilac
tree, the oldest, burst into fragrant purple blooms. A lone robin warbled its
summer song. And a young couple fell in love and planned their wedding.
“Are you sure you don’t want to wait until the rains
have come and gone?” asked Anna’s aunt. “It’s awfully dusty and dry. Not a
pretty time for a wedding!”
“Positive,” said Anna firmly. “I know what I want
and what I want is to marry Michael. I’d do it tomorrow if I could.”
Her aunt shrugged. “Well, we’ll just make the best
of it.” She leaned over and gave her favourite niece a kiss on the forehead. “No
matter what it’ll be a lovely wedding and you’ll be a beautiful bride.”
The days passed. The sun shone cruelly. But Anna and
Michael were resolute in their good cheer. They loved each other and they were
to be married soon. And some day the clouds would roll in and the soft sweet
rain would come, Anna was sure of it.
The morning of the wedding dawned as it had for the
past 365 days—a hot sun on dry land. A canopy had been set up in the garden,
white chairs arranged for the guests. Anna slipped into her lacy gown and
anxiously looked up at the bright sky.
“Anna!” She smiled when she heard the voice of the
man she loved.
“I can’t see you, you know that,” she called from
the window, careful not to let him catch sight of her. She believed in these
time-honoured superstitions.
“My cousin sent us an amazing gift,” said Michael.
She could hear the excitement in his voice.
“What is it?” she asked, peering around the curtain.
“It’s a surprise. You’ll see it when you walk down
the aisle.”
Anna checked her clock. She could hear the assembled
guests buzzing happily. Ten minutes to go before she married the man she adored.
She carefully fastened a rope of pearls around her throat, a treasured family
heirloom.
It was time. Anna gathered up her skirt, took a deep
breath and opened the door to the start of her new life. When she emerged from
the house the music started—a selection of old standards Anna loved to sing.
As she slowly walked toward the canopy, Anna’s eyes
caught glimpse of a miracle on the brown grass. A thick swirl of red, pink,
orange and white rose petals marked the path toward her future husband. The air
was redolent with their sweet scent. This was the gift from Michael’s cousin—a
burst of colour on a parched landscape.
Anna reached for Michael’s hand and turned to
him, smiling.
And then the rain came.
Legend
has it that as testimony to true love, roses always bloom along Anna and
Michael’s nuptial path through drought, sleet and snow.
