The Promise

The house on Lost Grove Road sat nestled amongst a woody forest at the end of a private unmarked road. The house itself was a wooden structure, once painted a brilliant white, but now a faded shadow of its former glory. It was a modest home, boasting three-bedrooms, though it contained no fancy amenities or design accolades. 

In the late evening, Rebecca went to her husband, Michael, to show him the property.

“We must buy this house,” she told him, handing him her tablet with the listing pulled up. 

Michael raised an eyebrow, but took a look. He saw the dilapidated house and the words “as-is” in the listing. He wondered what made this property so special when they already had a comfortable townhouse located uptown in the historic district of the city. Their home was perfectly furnished and had been featured in major design magazines multiple times. 

He looked up at her, raising his eyebrow, but softened with her pleading look. 

“Okay,” he said. “Let’s visit this new project of yours first before we make an offer.”

The following day the couple pulled up to the quaint house where their realtor was waiting. They exchanged greetings and then the stocky blonde woman led them inside the home. The entryway was lined with a linoleum floor that mimicked a French parquet. The squares had begun to curl at the edges after years of wear against the friction of shoes coming and going as they removed excess dirt from the outdoors. To the right was the family room with light yellow painted walls that framed a green carpet. Behind it was the dinning room wallpapered in green that matched the carpet. Beyond these rooms was the kitchen which contained outdated oak and white cabinets and appliances from an ambiguous time period. 

While the realtor answered some of Michael’s questions, Rebecca took the opportunity to open the sliding door and step outside. With a deep breath she inhaled the air that contained a freshness that was only noticeable to city dwellers who frequently dealt with an inferior product. In the distance she could hear the call of a loon, but Rebecca did not need a reminder of the treasure that lay behind the trees before her. She walked across the over grown lawn and into the woods following a path she had frequented many years ago. The trail was now overgrown and narrow, but still visible. Rebecca had to navigate a few fallen trees, but soon enough she found the enormous boulder that served as her marker. Beyond the massive rock stood the tree - their tree. Rebecca ran her fingers over the initials J + B that were carved into the tree’s trunk. She sighed and looked over to her left. Like a portal to another world stood the lake, a deep hue of gray blue, with rippling waters that was almost like a calling to take a journey beyond. 

Rebecca recalled the many afternoons where she had sat and gazed at this magical view, always beneath that tree with the initials, nestled against her high school sweetheart, Jesse. She recalled his dreamy blue eyes that were a near mimic of this lake that sat beside his parents’ house. She remembered Jesse’s melodic voice. A voice so satisfying, so delectable to the ear that many times Rebecca would have him read her English assignments to her. With his voice, Jesse could transform the passages of pieces like Beowulf into something more bearable for a teenager. While he read, Rebecca would lay beside him, beneath this tree, so close to Jesse that she could feel his heart beat against her cheek. She remembered how she could smell the fresh scent of his recently laundered shirt, and how, as he read, he would run his fingers through her hair - long and brown at that time - dancing his fingers along that perfect spot that allowed her to forget about all her teenage worries about the future. 

Rebecca wiped a tear as she remembered their final day together. It was hot and they had taken a dip in the lake together to cool off their suntanned bodies. As they laid beneath the R+J tree, there was no reading that day, just silence. Rebecca remembered riding the rising and falling of Jesse’s chest; her cheek firmly planted by his breast bone. Up and down she rose with lazy, hypnotic breaths until suddenly…

“Becca?” he had said. 

“Yes?”

“I’ve signed up for the Marines.”

Those words had made her sit up and look at him. She had scrunched her brows together in confusion. His blue eyes met hers. They were sincere. Though in the depths of those pools, Becca had seen the sadness. 

“I thought you wanted to go to school to be an engineer?”

“My parents can’t afford it,” he had told her, looking away. “This is my only option.”

“But there’s a war,” she had said, citing the then present events in the Middle East. “You could be—”

“Don’t think like that,” he had said, catching Becca’s tear with his thumb. He had wiped her cheek and sat up, wrapping his arms around her. “Becca, I love you, and I will come back to you. And when I do, we will lie right here like we always do, but I will have many more stories to tell you.”

***

“But you never came back,” Becca said to the tree that had witnessed the promise. She looked back at the lake again and sighed. 

“There you are,” called Michael.

She looked up, noticing how much Michael was the opposite of Jesse. Dark, brown eyes, tan skin, and short brown hair. A gait that was strong and sure, but not carefree. 

Michael put his arm around Rebecca’s waist and pulled her close to him so her head pressed into the crook of his neck. 

“Now I see why you were so interested in this property.”

“Oh do you?” she said, forcing a smile. 

Without exchanging another word, the couple looked over the rippling waters. Michael saw the possibilities that the future could hold, while Rebecca lingered in the past.