Page 53 of What Maple Heard

That night, I called the community center and asked for River.

River had mentioned he’d be volunteering for the Christmas food drive. That was the best place to catch him without Maple around.

He picked up, confused. “Cade? Why are you calling here?”

“I need your blessing,” I said.

“Blessing?” A pause. “For what?”

“I want to propose to your sister,” I said. “I want to marry her, River. And I would love for the three of us to become a family officially. I wanted to ask for your permission first.”

“You want to marry my sister,” River said very seriously, after a brief silence. “And you called to ask for my permission.”

“Yes.”

Another silence. And then I heard it — the smile, coming through the phone before he said a single word.

“Of course you have my permission,” he said. His voice cracked on the last word. “I really like you, Cade.”

“Thanks, buddy,” I said. “That means the world to me.”

“So what’s the plan?” he asked.

“I’m glad you asked,” I said. “There’s one more thing.”

The day I landed, I discussed my plan with my parents. They had to be a big part of this, too.

A week later, I picked up Maple and River for Christmas dinner at my parents’ house. Maple was wearing the forest green dress I had brought back from the Philippines and was looking smoking hot in it. She kept fixing her hair in the visor mirror on the drive. I looked at her and placed my hand over hers on the stick shift. “They’ll love you.” I said. She smiled, but I could see she was still nervous. But when we got there and my parents hugged her, Maple’s nervousness eased off slowly and by the time dessert was served we were laughing and talking as if my parents had known Maple and River their entire lives.

At the end of dessert, Mom asked — as discussed and rehearsed in advance — if Maple and River would like a tour of the house.

River said, as discussed and rehearsed in advance, that he’d see it some other time and wanted to play cards with Dad instead. I took Maple through the house, room by room. “There’s one more thing I want to show you,” I said.

That was River’s cue.

We went out through the back and down toward the barn, and around to the canopy my parents had set up for their annual Christmas party. It was warm inside despite the December cold. There were Christmas lights on every beam, and garlands on every surface. The whole place was glowing and smelling like pine and cinnamon for the Sonnenberg Christmas party the next day. Maple held my hand and walked slowly, looking at everything. “This is so beautiful,” she said. “Your parents do this every year?”

“Every year,” I said.

“There’s one more thing I want you to see.”

That was River’s second cue. He was in the electrical room just a few feet from where Maple and I were standing. And then right on cue, the lights went out. Maple startled. Then the string lights came on — dim, warm, outlining the whole canopy in soft gold. And in the center of it, on the main table, one arrangement of flowers glowing under a single light. White roses, holly, amaryllis. And in the middle of the arrangement, a small velvet box.

Maple went very still. She looked at the table. Then she looked at the ring. River came out from behind the electrical room door. He was trying very hard to look casual and was not managing it at all. He kept smiling the whole walk to Maple’s side. I took the ring from the table. I turned to Maple. Her eyes were already bright.

I went down on one knee.

“Maple Brooks,” I said. “Will you please be my wife?”

She said yes before I had finished the sentence. She was crying before I stood up, and she cried so hard that I had to pull her into my chest as River cheered us on.

A few months later, River walked Maple down the aisle. He walked her all the way to me, and then came and stood right next to me as my best man. My parents were in the front row. My mother cried through the vows. My father held her hand and looked at me the way he had that night at the dinner table when he said I never told you to choose money over love. My parents had become extremely fond of Maple and River. River became my dad’s card partner and together they beat us in every game on Friday game nights at my parents’. A few weeks before the wedding, Maple, River and I had moved to our new home a few blocks away from my parent’s house. It was a cute historical cottage, with a beautiful gazebo in the backyard overlooking Chestnut Lake. The cottage had its own private dock with a boat ramp, which River and I started using right away to go fishing around the lake on weekends. Maple and I discussed what to do with her old house, and we finally decided to donate the space to the Shineforth House as an Annex for their youth programs.

Then a couple of months later, in the summer, we had a backyard barbecue. River had found a new love for music. He had formed a band with Brody and two other friends and they were playing what they called oldies. Classic slow rock — More Than a Word by Extreme, To Be With You by Mr. Big, Dreams by Fleetwood Mac, Heaven by Bryan Adams.

And they were good.

River could sing, and when he did, even at home, Maple and I would just go still and listen. He was the best little brother and son I could have imagined. When the set finished, River came and dropped into the chair next to mine. Brody sat across. They had both loaded their plates and were talking animatedly about the next set. I looked at him across the table and felt proud in a way that I didn’t have words for. He reached across for the ketchup. “Grandma,” he said, “can you pass the ketchup?” My mother’s hand stopped moving. She looked at River. Then she looked at me. Then at Maple. Her eyes were full and bright and she smiled and passed the ketchup without saying a word.