Aida Time by ACF Bookens

Author:ACF Bookens [Bookens, ACF]
Language: eng
Format: epub

As we waited for the frozen chicken potpie that Horatio had brought for us to have for dinner, Santi said, “You’ll be too tired to cook, I know. Consider it our way of thanking you. You do realize that our wedding is in two weeks. Here. Potentially now in the mud.”

I had realized this, as I was sure he had when we talked about the event for next weekend, but I didn’t care. “This is important, and honestly, if we have to deal with a little mud for our wedding, that’s a small price to pay in reparation for the damage done by slavery. Plus, it’s kind of fitting that we’ll have a visual reminder of that history on our wedding day, isn’t it?”

Santi kissed my forehead. “I knew you wouldn’t be worked up about this, and I have another idea.”

I looked over at him in his rocking chair and raised my eyebrows. “What’s that, Mr. Shifflett?”

“What if we asked Isaiah and Mary to write and read a few words about their ancestor’s history here at the start of our ceremony?” he asked.

I grinned. “I love that idea, and then we could have a moment of silence to thank those people for giving us this place.”

“Beautiful,” he said. “We were going to do the ceremony in the front yard, but what if we did it out back? To honor the people who were enslaved here? To be in their space, so to speak?”

“Excellent. I’ll let Mika and Lucille know since they’re coordinating tables and such,” I said.

“And speaking of which, I asked Horatio if we could ask the tent rental company about keeping the tent up for another week after our event. I told him we’d pay for it, of course—”

“But he refused to let us, didn’t he?” I asked.

Santi nodded. “I insisted, but he said absolutely not. Said it would be his wedding gift to us.”

“Of course he did,” I said with a laugh. “That’s very kind of him, and it will make things simpler if we just have everything back there.” For the next little while, he and I talked through the ceremony and the placement of things, given our new focus, and by the time I’d typed everything into a long text to Mika and Lucille, I was exhausted.

“How does going to bed, listening to the You’re Wrong About podcast, and drifting to sleep really early sound?” I asked him.

“Sounds perfect to me,” he said. “Your dad wants to get started on painting the office tomorrow at six thirty in the morning.”

“Oh, glory,” I said. “Thank you.” I kissed him softly. “I don’t know how I got so lucky.”

“I ask myself the same question every day,” Santi said. “Now, let’s embrace middle age by eating in front of the TV and going to bed before eight p.m.”

“I love you,” I whispered as I went to get our dinner.

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