It was a late July morning, and I happen to het up a bit earlier than normal. Chris was still sleeping on the other side of the bed, snoring softly. I quietly got dressed and went into the kitchen. A flashing light caught my attention. Someone had called in the middle of the night and left a message.
I pressed the button and the message started: "Hey honey, it's Mom. I know your probably asleep, but this is the first I've had time. I glad to say that I have good news." The message paused for a moment. I thought this was so like her, to build anticipation. "My boss has decided to let Chris' father and I come home early!" She clearly sounded really excited, and so was I. "We will be home in two weeks. Don't forget to sign up for that online high school. Love you, bye." The message ended, and I was in a much better mood than I was when I woke up, so I decided to make pancakes. I always made them when I was really happy, I don't know why. I turned on the burner and put a pan on. I was mixing the batter when Chris walked in, hair mused.
"Did I hear someone talking?" was the forst thing out of his mouth. He usually was a deep sleeper, but for some reason voices always woke him up.
"Yeah," I said, still stirring, "Mom called last night. She said that she and your dad are coming home in two weeks." I pored some of the batter onto the heated pan.
A smile spread across Chris' face. "I can't wait."
He sat down at the table and watch me work ( which was so like him. We were both pretty lazy, but he topped me in that catagory).
"Your eyes have changed color," he said.
"Have they now?" I asked, turning to him. "I havn't noticed." (I really hadn't!)
"Yeah," he said, "there this ivy color."
"I'll have to look in a mirror," I said.
"Be careful, it will probably crack," he joked. I laughed and took what was left of the pancake mix and flung at at him, and it hit his face with a splat. We both burst out laughing and he licked at the batter with his toung.
"Could us a bit more butter," he said in his best impersonation of a french accent. We laughed again and he started wiping the batter off of his face.
After we ate out pancakes ( we each had five) we decided to go for a hike. The small town we lived in was in the middle of a protect forrest, and I was glad, because the forrest was amazing. Streams and waterfalls were everywhere, trees (there were all sorts, but there were few evergreens, so they were always pretty in the fall) that were seveal hundred years old. We hiked for about forty-five minutes before we stopped to rest, both of us clutching our sides.
"We need to stop eating all those pizzas," Chris said, and he was right. We had both gained a bit of weight since he moved in.
We continued walking, and about ten minutes later we stoped again, because what we saw amazed us. There was what looked to be an abandoned church. It looked like it was several hundred years old, with vines covering it and parts of the roof gone. the stone was mostly intact, but the gaint oak doors had started to rot. The stain glass windows had faded and broke, pieces littered the ground. Both of us started to look up at the tall bell tower, wondering if the bells still worked. Then we heard a twig snap, and we both turned around, almost to quickly, tensing up. Whe we saw who it was, both of is relaxed. It was Sheriff Rein. He was in his early sixties, with a grey beard and a balding head. I was glad to see him, since I hadn't seen him in a while. He had been a father figure to me.
"Ahh, look who it is," the sheriff said is his usual gruff voice.
"Hey, sheriff," Chris and I said in unison.
"It's beautiful, that church, isn't it," he said, "been here since the late sixteen hundreds, I believe."
"Interesting," I said.
"I always come up here when I need a calm spot," the Sheriff said. "Write poetry here, too."
"I am going to guess that there is a certain someone you write the poetry for, right?" Chris asked. I knew exactly what he was talking about. It was well know around town that the sheriff was attracted to the owner of the local flower shop. Neither had ever been married, and everyone was waiting for him to pluck up the courage to ask her to marry him. The Sheriff looked at him, looking like he was mad. He suddenly started laughing.
"Your guessed right," he said, still laughing. "But I didn't come here to right poetry today. You see, I've asked her to meet me here, Ms. Windy."
Chris and I both blushed, knowing why the Sheriff asked her here.
"I guess you will want to be alone," Chris guessed.
"This time," the sheriff started, "you guessed wrong. I'll need you here to make sure my courage holds... and because I don't think I could carry her by myself when she faints."
The three of us laughed. We heard another branch snap, and we saw Ms. Windy slowly walk toward us. She was a peitete woman with graying blonde hair, but she had a very regal look about her. She looked up at the church and smiled.
She walked over to the sheriff and they kissed. Chris and I both blushed again, eveb though they were completly ignoring us.
"I have always loved it here," she said, smiling.
The Sherrif smiled too, and pulled something out of his jacket pocket. It was a small, velvit case.
The Sheriff got down on one knee ad said: "Windy, will you marry me?"
Ms. Windy gave a little squeak, but managed to to say: "Oh, yes, yes I will."
The Sherrif put the ring on he fingure and they were about to hus when she proptly fainted. The Sheriff was able to catch her and gently lie her on the ground.
He looked at us and said: "That went rather well!"
Chris and I both smiled and started to help the Sheriff carry her back to town. Whe we got close to town, we started to hear sirens, and they were coming from the direction of my house. We soon saw what was causing all the comotion.
My house had caught on fire.