Marisa Álvarez would remember this day the rest of her life. The day the man she loved asked her to be his wife. Last evening, he confessed he had something of great importance to discuss with her. What else could he mean but a marriage proposal?
The daydream mesmerized her so completely she flinched when a broad arm snaked her waist. The knife fell with a clatter on the cutting board. She whirled.
Her mother strode to her side, shooing ‘Lando while his finger poised over a carrot slice. “Surely you don’t wish to wed in this makeshift fort, querida, when you might have a much grander affair at home with all your friends and family in attendance.”
“No,” she admitted, eyes downcast. “But it is so hard to wait.”
“Well.” Mama kissed her head. “Since Tomás has not asked you yet, I fear you must continue to wait a bit longer.”
A rhythmic knock on their cabin door sent her heart into spasms.
"Buenos días, Marisa." He stooped to duck his head inside the low doorway and greeted the other occupants.
Ruddy color filled the sharp angles of his cheeks. “I thought Marisa would like to walk with me before the noon meal.”
“De nada, Montesita.” He placed a gentle kiss behind her lobe. “May God grant you happiness.”
At last, he stopped and, bowing, he indicated she sit on a large, flat rock at the lake’s edge.