Forever Flower

"Oh Joseph, it's beautiful!"

The young woman's gaze shifted from her outstretched left hand to the man standing behind her, her expression rapturous. His beaming smile matched her own as he replied, "I'm glad you like it. The jewelers had very specific instructions as to its design."

Their eyes met.

"Nothing but the best for my flower. But," he continued, his smile narrowing to an amused smirk, "You still haven't answered my question. Will you?"

She rolled her eyes- an unfortunate habit, perhaps, he reflected, but just one more thing that endeared her to him. Grace wasn't perfect, like the Gibson-Girl-esque women his mother'd tried to foist off on him, and for that she was the most wonderful woman in the world.

Turning away, she tucked back a loose strand of brown hair and examined her nails as though thoroughly bored. Finally, she spoke.

"If you haven't figured that out by now, then you must be the densest man in Marshall Falls." A pause, then, "Of course I'll marry you, my love."

Joseph let out a shout of joy (much to the unpleasant surprise of some nearby matrons, who decided to take their picnic to another part of the park) and lifted his fiancee up, spinning her around and around. Grace's laughter mingled with his; a few girls a ways off began to sigh and giggle, but neither party noticed.

Yes. She said yes. Oh God, let this moment last forever.

A few minutes later, they lay together on the ground beneath a massive oak tree, not speaking but not caring. Grace absently tilted her hand back and forth, watching the jewel flower's abalone petals shimmer different colors in the sunlight.

"Forever and ever and ever," she murmured dreamily, and snuggled closer to Joseph.
*******

"Today's the day, Mother. And nothing can spoil my mood," Joseph said triumphantly, straightening his tie in the mirror.

All your dire predictions came to naught. "Something always goes wrong on a wedding day," my foot; everything is perfect.

Mrs. Edwards pursed her lips and stared at her son. "Yes, I know," she replied, "And I still think there'll be some kind of accident. Perhaps I'd better go check on the table linens." With that, she strode off toward the dining room.

Joseph looked back at his reflection. Dark hair neatly groomed, best suit crisp, boutonierre fresh...yes, everything was in order. He crossed the room and knocked three times at the door. It opened a crack, and he caught sight of his best man peering in.

"Everything alright, Joe?"

"Yes. I believe it's time; is the coast clear?"

Derrek smiled. "I've not seen hide nor hair of her. You can come out."

Careful to shut the door behind him, Joseph walked into the hall, dress shoes clacking against the stone floor. He and Derrek set off for the ballroom, where the priest was surely waiting by now. On the way, the best man lost no time in teasing the groom.

"So, tying yourself down already? Honestly, Joe, you're only 22; you might have waited. With your kind of prospects...gad, you could have had a Vanderbilt daughter!"

"Grace's family is perfectly respectable," Joseph shot back with a laugh, "Why do you have to be so much like my mother?"

"Look, all I'm saying is-" The polished mahogany doors looming before them effectively ended Derrek's rejoinder. Joseph pulled one open a crack, grinning again at his best friend since childhood.

"Here we go. And Derrek?" His grin widened. "Do me a favor and hold your peace." The two said nothing more during the walk to the altar, and waited before the priest in silence.

The first strains of the bridal march began.

This is it. The beginning of the rest of my life. Forever with my precious flower; forever and ever and ever.

It took about five minutes for all present to realize that something was horribly wrong. The doors remained shut, but Grace should have entered the room some time ago. Joseph began to start back down the aisle, concern obliterating his smile, but before he could reach the hallway, his mother burst into the room.

Her tearstreaked face made his heart seem to stop. It was as if he heard her words before she spoke them, and they sent a wave of cold terror through him.

"Joseph...there's been an accident. Grace...on the porch...your father tried to help her, but the ice...and those high-heeled shoes..." She trailed off as a fresh wave of sobs broke over her.

A proper son would have comforted his mother and gotten the guests under control before anything else. Joseph had never been a proper son. He raced down the hall, to the foyer, and out the door, hoping and praying that somehow his mother had been wrong.

It can't be. It's some kind of cruel joke. Grace is the most terrible practical joker; I'll have to get it through her head that this kind of thing isn't funny.

As he reached the porch, that hope snuffed out like a candle. Grace lay sprawled across the steps, a trickle of blood across her forehead but otherwise looking as though she could have been asleep. Joseph knelt and gathered her into his arms, tenderly wiping the blood away.

He rocked her, unable to cry, unable to say anything but her name. "Grace, Grace...flower..."

Forever ends now.

*****

"Master Edwards? Everything is ready; we can leave within minutes. There's just one thing."

Joseph didn't turn from the window. "What is it, Daniel?"

"It's-" the butler hesitated. "It's Miss Bellafonte's ring, sir. You bought it, but I doubt you want it."

That got his attention. The young man rounded on his servant, murder in his eyes.

"It's not still on her finger?" he asked in a tone of quiet fury.

Daniel hastened to placate him. "We all thought it was, sir, but there it was on the mantlepiece this morning. It must have been forgotten in all the commotion."

But I never took it off. Nobody took it off her.

And here came the tears again, the ones he'd finally found three days after Grace's death. He quickly returned to the window.

"Sell it. Give it away. I don't care, so long as I never have to lay eyes on it again."

"Yes, sir."

Daniel left the room and stood in the hall, turning the silver ring over in his hand. The flower's iridescent petals and garnet center glimmered in the morning light. His fist closed around it.

"Don't worry, Miss Grace," he whispered, "You'll never be forgotten. Not by him and, as long as this ring's around, not by anyone."

Later, as he drove away towards the pawn shop, he could have sworn something whispered in his ear.

"Forever and ever and ever."