On the Seventh Day

Kay and I found each other sort of late; we were coming up on 50 when we married. With much of the hard work of life behind us, we looked forward to spending our golden years leisurely enjoying each other's company. And rather than one of us moving in with the other, we decided to go someplace new together.

"We'd like a nice big house in the mountains," Kay instructed the real-estate agent, "but not too out of the way, with a yard where I can tend my roses."

I cleared my throat. "I thought we'd settled on a private little cabin by a creek, Kay. Where I can go with my fishing pole and a good book?"

As it turned out, my real-estate agent worked a miracle and found something to satisfy both of us: a medium-size fixer-upper near the Santiam River in Lyons, Oregon. Kay got a yard for her roses, and I got a creek that wound through the wooded property. I had all the privacy I yearned for, but Kay had reservations about being so isolated. Still, it seemed too perfect to pass up.

We were both handy; we'd do the repairs ourselves while living in a cottage about 300 yards from the house. The cottage was ours for only one week, though, and it was going to be tough to get the house livable so fast.

That first night at our temporary quarters, Kay and I stood in the doorway looking out into the moonlight. We'd spent the whole day at the new house and realized the necessary repairs were much more extensive than we'd first thought. Kay leaned her head against my shoulder and sighed. "We'll never be able to do it all in a week, Jim."

A shriek came from the dark, leafy woods. Coon, coyote, I wasn't sure what—some animal was hungry. Kay shuddered. "Everything is going to work out," I promised. "You'll see." I gave her a big hug while berating myself, You old weasel. How can you make such a promise? We're in trouble and you know it.

I left Kay on the sofa nervously flipping through a magazine, and went up to bed. As I settled my head onto the pillow, I asked a favor. God, my wife is overwhelmed. Please stay near her tonight. Amen.

My first waking thought the next morning was of banging pots and pans. Must have been part of a dream, I figured, and rolled over. Kay's side of the bed was empty. I scratched my beard. Then I heard her humming in the kitchen. I went in to find fresh flowers on the table and Kay looking like she was lit by a fire from within.

"Good morning, Sweetheart," she said cheerily. "Isn't it a glorious day?" She planted a big kiss on my cheek as I sat down to a breakfast fit for a king.

"Did you get a good night's sleep?" I ventured. "I was worried about you."