Falling for Your Madness (27 page)

“All you have to say is
I do
.” I had trouble saying it too.

The judge began and I let his words float around me. My ballasts were David’s arm and my bouquet. And then I gave my bouquet to Ruby and David took my hands and he put the ring on my finger, my something old, and I put one on his. Then I said what David had said.

I said,
I do.

And he held my face in his hands and kissed me.

Saturday, December 29, 2012

The Langham Hotel, Regent Street, London, U.K.

We really had no idea what time it was.

We hadn’t looked at a clock in three days.

“So, how’s married life, Mrs. Bowles?”

Ruby had called me. I wasn’t going to tell her that there were surprisingly few rules to follow as David’s bride. Clothing, both formal and casual, for example, turned out to be optional.

There were no more good-bye kisses. I didn’t miss them. David and I both agreed that the recitation of Tennyson’s poetry was vastly improved when one was horizontal, holding one’s spouse in one’s arms.

“Married life is
magical
.” That’s all I wanted to say to Ruby. After all, I was a lady. “Hold on, just a minute, Ruby.” David needed my attention. He was putting on his jacket.

“When I get back from buying you flowers, I’ll find another poem with which to seduce you, Mrs. Bowles.” The look David gave me as he left our hotel room had a new message to it. One for only husbands and wives.

Ruby and I chatted for a few minutes, but I knew she was up to something. “So, Laura, is the rumor true? You know, about men with big feet?”

“Ruby! How can you ask such a thing! What’s gotten into you? What a thing to ask!”

David had returned. He had two dozen pink roses in one hand and an envelope in the other. He was reading it, but looked up at me. “Is anything wrong, dear?”

“It’s Ruby.”

Ruby wouldn’t let up. “Come on, Laura. Tell me.”

“David’s right here. Why don’t you ask him yourself?”

“No! Don’t you dare!”

“Ask me what? I’ll do anything for a lady.”

“David, Ruby wants to know if …”

“
No! Laura! I swear I’ll kill you if you ask him
!”

“Are all the rumors about you and your family true?”

“All of them.”

“Every last one?”

“Every last one.”

“Ruby, did you catch that? Every. Last. One. Now, I need to resume my honeymoon. Bye.” I heard her screaming in the background.

“You need to see this, Laura. This is so kind. So thoughtful. I need to send it to Father so that he can add it to his collection.”

I took the envelope from him. I couldn’t imagine why someone would send us a charcoal drawing of a bulldog.

It was not a drawing. It was a letter on very fine stationary. I recognized the handwriting.

Dear Dr. Bowles,

Camilla and I want to extend every congratulation to you regarding your recent marriage. Perhaps the next time I come to Oxford, we may visit over tea.
Welcome home.
--- Charles

Then my husband, David Julius Arthur Bowles, Ph.D. and possibly the rightful King of England, took off his tweed jacket and his wool trousers, folded both neatly on a chair, took me in his arms, and kissed me on specific points on both the northern and southern hemispheres of my lovely body.

THE END

ACKNOWLEDGEMENTS

Much love and many bouquets of flowers should go to the following people for their enthusiasm and assistance during the making of this book: My family, naturally, for being such great cheerleaders and enduring my babblings gracefully, but especially Marc, Ariel, Miranda, and Janice; my critique partner, Jane Steen, for her wisdom, encouragement and snort-worthy comments; Jane and Brian Duxbury for their unconditional love and insight on what it means to be a British gentleman; Christina Karas for her gentle editorial help and Bree Jordan for her beautiful photography and graphic design. This book also couldn’t have been made without my favorite readers: Jennifer Yeager, Vicki Barth, Kate Jordan, Kristy Petersen, Korinne Meldrum, Jennifer Luitweiler, Elaine Bayless, Sheila Villamil, Melody Black and Sarah Reinhard.

AUTHOR’S NOTE

In the pages of
Falling For Your Madness
are references to the intentional courtship, engagement and marriage between my husband and me. The day that David and Laura meet at Julie’s party, September 16, is the first day that my husband and I met in 1995, face to face, after a nine-month long e-mail correspondence. The neighborhood in Brookline, in which David and Laura fall in love, was the same one we walked when we fell in love too. One of the restaurant’s addresses was the address of my apartment, in the lobby of which I received several good-night kisses. Julie’s street, Trenton Street, in East Boston, was the address of our first apartment. The address of the apartment where the Halloween party took place is the address of St. Elizabeth’s hospital, where our five children were born. David’s father’s address is address of the first house that we bought in 1998, but ours wasn’t in Beverly. The date of David’s school report, September 14, 1996, was the day we married. Not sure why David wrote his report on a Saturday, but he
is
eccentric. David started classes at Oxford on January 14 -- one of our children’s birthdays. And the first bouquet of flowers my husband ever gave me, was one of pink roses, just like the last one David gave Laura. And like David, we both agreed, that the honeymoon was worth waiting for.

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