Page 31 of Sparks Fly
"That one is crooked," she tells me, pointing to a reindeer-shaped sugar cookie I have been assigned to supervise.
"He's running," I say. "He's mid-stride."
She considers this. "Okay." She adjusts the plate slightly. "Do you think Santa will like them?"
"I think Santa is going to be very happy."
She sits back on her heels and surveys the full spread. We’ve got cookies, a glass of milk, and a small carrot for the reindeer that she insisted on. She nods once, satisfied with the answer.
The water in the kitchen stops running.
My pulse picks up. I reach into my jacket pocket and close my hand around the two boxes.
"Hey, Cora." I keep my voice easy. "I need to ask you something before your mom comes in."
She turns to look at me with her full attention, the way she does everything. "What?"
"You know how much I love you and your mom, right?"
She nods immediately. There is absolutely no hesitation in that nod. "You made your picture of us your phone background. You must love us a whole lot.”
"I did."
"And you came over when I lost my tooth even though it was a school night."
"I did that too,” I chuckle, reaching out to push her hair back from her forehead.
She tilts her head. "What do you need to ask me?"
I pull both boxes out of my pocket and hold them in my open palm. Her eyes go straight to them, and her mouth drops open.
"I want to ask your mom to marry me tonight," I tell her. "But I'm asking you first. Because this is your family too, and I'm not going to do anything that changes it without making sure you're okay with it."
She stares at the boxes. Then she looks up at me. "What's in both of them?"
"One is for your mom. The other one is for you." I open the smaller of the two boxes first. Inside is a ring I had made. It’s a thin gold band with a small orange stone at the center, because of course it is, because this is Cora, and there was never going to be any other color. "I'm not just asking to be your mom's husband. I'm asking to be part of your life. If you'll have me."
Her chin wobbles. I have seen Cora face a burning building with nothing but my coat collar in her fist, and her chin is wobbling right now over a ring with an orange stone.
"That's orange," she whispers.
"It's orange,” I confirm.
She looks at me for a long moment with those eyes that have always seen more than most adults give her credit for. She knows how much I care for her, if I made sure it was orange. "You're going to stay?" She questions.
"I'm going to stay."
She reaches out and takes the ring from the box carefully, holding it in both hands. Then she looks up at me and nods, one firm, decided nod.
"Yes," she says. "You can ask her."
I hear a cabinet door close, and we both look up.
Trish comes into the living room drying her hands on a dish towel, and she stops when she sees us on the floor. Her eyes move from my face to Cora's face to the open ring box in my hand, and the dish towel goes still.
I stand up.
"Mark?"
