The floorboards creaked as the woman stepped out onto the front porch of the caretaker cottage. She leaned against the porch railing and gazed out at the mountains hovering on the horizon. She shook her head in amazement, wondering if she should pinch herself to make sure this was real and not just an illusion. She’d dreamt of being in the Colorado Rocky Mountains. Now here she was, surrounded by them in all their rugged grandeur. How much better could it get?!
A vehicle door slammed shut, breaking her out of her reverie. She turned to see a tall, darkhaired man, dressed in a white shirt and white jeans, striding towards the house. The woman grabbed the porch railing and held on tightly. At the sight of the man, the surrounding landscape spun around and for a brief moment the woman feared she would fall into a faint onto the wooden floorboards of the porch.
She steadied herself against the railing. A wry grin lifted up the corners of her mouth. So, this is what those romance novels meant when they spoke of the pounding of the heart and the weakness in the knees. As a girl, she'd been attracted to those stories like a moth to a flame. The romance of those stories had awakened the desire in her to dream. She'd not only dreamt of being in those beautiful Colorado mountains but she had also dreamt of meeting a darkhaired man in their midst and falling in love with him on the banks of swiftly flowing streams sparkling in the moonlight.
Her Momma hadn't approved of her reading material and had deemed it her duty to inform her, "Don't you be filling your head with such fantasies! Those stories aren't real to life." As time went on the novels were replaced with other things and the dreams became all but forgotten. As those memories from the past resurfaced, she imagined what her well-meaning Momma would say if she were standing here beside her, watching this man striding up the walk. With concern in her voice, she'd be sure to warn, "Be aware of these men. They are trouble!”
The woman relaxed her grip on the railing and watched as the man bounded up the steps of the porch. He sauntered over to stand next to her. Gazing out at the mountains in the distance he murmured, “It is beautiful here.” He turned to look at her, slipped his hand into his jean pocket, and pulled out the keys to the truck he'd driven up in and parked nearby. Reaching for her hand he said, "Let's go discover just how beautiful it is. We can spend the day hiking through the pines and, as the sun slips below the horizon, we can sit on the banks of a stream, watching the night fall and the moon come up."
Intrigued by the directness of his blue-green eyes, the woman could only nod. As she placed her hand in his and followed him down the steps, a shiver of excitement ran down her spine. It had just gotten a whole lot better and she whispered, “I am sorry, Momma. I beg to differ. Some men aren't trouble. They are a treasure. And real life can be quite like a romance novel.”
Author's Note: The story is how my husband and I got together. The photo is our first portrait taken right after we got married.
© A True Romance Story Marilou Giesbrecht