“What in the world is he doing out there?” Regan gasped. “Surely even Travis wouldn’t do anything so foolish as….”
She couldn’t continue as the horns blared and Travis calmly began to climb the swaying rope ladder to the tiny platform high over their heads.
“That’s my Daddy! That’s my Daddy!” Jennifer yelled, bouncing up and down on the hard wooden seat.
Regan couldn’t move. Her eyes didn’t blink, her lungs didn’t function, even her heart stopped beating as she stared at Travis on the platform above them.
At the top he again raised his arm to the crowd below, and everyone clapped loudly. There was complete silence as Travis began his slow, careful journey across the taut rope, a long pole in his hand, and it seemed an eternity before he made it to the other side.
The applause made the benches rattle, and Regan buried her face in her hands, tears of relief coming quickly. “Tell me when he’s on the ground again,” she said to Brandy.
Brandy was unusually quiet.
“Brandy?” Regan said, peeking out through her fingers. Her friend’s expression made her head swivel to look up at Travis again. He was standing on the platform, calmly looking down at her, seeming to be waiting for something. When she looked up at him, he hooked something onto the platform pole and another thing onto the wide black leather belt he wore.
“He’s going to walk it again,” Brandy whispered. “But at least he’s using a safety cable this time.”
Travis was several feet across the rope before everyone began to realize just what his “safety cable” really was. Slowly the banner began to unfold. “Regan” was the first word they saw, and after having seen the sentence hundreds of times in the last two days, they needed no one to read it for them.
“Regan!” they read as one. “Will” came next, then “You.” Each word got louder and louder, and finally, when Travis stood at the opposite platform, they reread all of it together. If they’d worked for weeks they couldn’t have orchestrated it better. “Regan, will you marry me?”
Regan’s body turned red from her toes to her hair roots and possibly spread to the tips of her hair; it certainly felt as if it did.
“What does it say, Mommie?” Jennifer demanded as everyone around her began to laugh.
Regan was afraid to speak for fear of what she might say. She absolutely refused to look at Travis, who was climbing down the rope ladder amidst great cheering, clapping, and general hilarity.
“I’m going home,” Regan finally whispered. “Please see to Jennifer,” she said, and, her head held high, she left the ribboned seat and walked in front of the crowd and out of the canvas-wrapped enclosure. People were calling things to her, but she ignored them as she started the long walk back to the inn.
Using her key, she went inside her own apartment and thought perhaps she’d never leave it again, except maybe to sneak away one night so that she would never again look at a person from Scarlet Springs.
It came as no surprise to her that propped against her pillow was a note on heavy ivory paper. It was an engraved invitation, exquisite, costly, for her to join Travis Stanford for supper that night at nine o’clock. A handwritten message was at the bottom, saying he’d pick her up at the door to her apartment at eight-forty-five.
Feeling completely defeated, she knew there was nothing else she could do but meet him. If she refused, would he perhaps have his elephant knock her door down, or maybe he’d arrive riding it? She was ready for anything even Travis could imagine.
No one bothered her all the rest of the evening, and she was grateful to whoever had arranged such a phenomenon. She’d had more than enough of everyone’s attentions.
At exactly eight-forty-five, a knock sounded on her door, and Travis stood there, dressed elegantly in a dark green coat and lighter green pants. He smiled at her and glanced at the pretty apricot silk dress she wore.
“You are prettier than ever,” he said, offering her his arm.
The moment she touched him she forgave him. She wished she could have kicked herself for doing it, but all her anger and frustration, all her desire to shoot him, left her instantly.
Swaying, she leaned against him for just a second, and as she did so he took her chin in his hand and looked into her eyes. Searching her face, his eyes holding hers, he bent and kissed her gently, sweetly. “I’ve missed you,” he whispered, before smiling and leading her toward a handsome two-seater buggy.
“Oh Travis,” was all she could manage as he settled beside her, to which he laughed in a seductive way and clicked for the horse to move.
It was a clear, warm, moonlit night, heavenly fragrant and still. It was almost as if Travis ordered just such a night. After the last few days she had no idea what she’d been expecting from him, but what she saw when he halted the buggy was not it.
A quilt of patches of velvet tied with gold threads was spread on the grass beside the stream, and set on it were many cushions of midnight blue and gold. Crystal glassware, porcelain, and delicious-smelling food were laid out, all of it surrounded by candles whose sharp glare was shrouded by globes of pink frosted glass. It was a heavenly, unreal scene.
“Travis,” she began as he lifted her from the wagon. “It’s lovely.”
He led her to the cushions and helped her into a comfortable reclining position before he opened a cold bottle of champagne. When she held a glass, he gingerly lowered himself to cushions opposite her.
“Travis, are you hurt?” she asked.
“Every damn bone in my body is hurt,” he said with half a groan. “I’ve never worked so hard in my life as I have in the last few days. I hope you don’t need any more courting.”