Chains of Love

She sat on the small wooden bench so quietly as she gazed out the open window. I leaned against the doorjamb, my sunburned arms crossed against my chest as I looked in on her. From my angle, I could see only the side of her face, but it was enough to see the peaceful, thoughtful look in her eye. The sun was beginning to sink down below the treetops and a gentle summer breeze was moving just enough that I could pick up on the light scent of the flowers she had planted right outside the window. I thought it was a silly place for a garden.

"Why would you want a garden in the back," I asked her. She had said it was because she wanted to see something pretty every day. I wrapped my arms around her trim waist and chuckled. She gets excited over the silliest things and that never fails to me smile. She's so easy to please and I want to please her more than I want to do anything else. More than I want to breathe. I pulled her to me and whispered a promise of a thousand mirrors lining every wall of our small wooden cottage so that she could see that beauty every where she goes. She gave me that charming, crooked grin and glanced up at me then giggled and pleaded as she covered my face in tiny fleeting kisses before kissing my lips.

"Please, my love? Just a small one outside the bedroom window," she pleaded with her eyes as much as her words.

How could I deny her that? How could I deny her anything? The way her eyes lit up as she rambled on about lilacs, daises, roses, and even wildflowers made it impossible for me to say anything other than yes.

Now I'm the one smiling as I watch that same fresh breeze gently blow her long light brown hair back from her eyes. Seeing it fall ever so slightly against her smooth cheek and slender neck takes me back the day we married in her father's field, out in nature just as she had always dreamed with the summer sun shining down on us as if Mother Nature herself was giving us her blessing.

That was the day I knew we'd be together forever. Really knew. Sure, it was our wedding day and everyone says they knew well before then and my knowing may have come late, but that's because my knowing was different. This wasn't a hopeful wish or a love-struck dream. No, I knew, truly knew, in my mind, in my heart, and in my soul that we'd be together always.

The chains help.

I looked down at her ankle. I only have to keep one chained now and I alternate them so that they don't get red and chaffed. Her right ankle has worn the cuff for a week now. Making a mental note to move it to her left before bed, my eyes travel along the length of the chain inspecting it, as had become my habit, for any weak links. It's a good sturdy chain, but still light enough that it doesn't encumber her movement much. She can go any where she likes throughout the cottage and even outside all the way to just past the tree line alone the edge of our grass. I was immensely proud of her when she earned that extra length of chain.

Stretching my leg out, I move the chain with the toe of my boot the clanking of the links against the floorboards startles her and she spins around to face me.

"Ben! You're home! You're home!"

She's always so happy to see me. "Hello, Love. How have you been? Did you have a good week?" I ask as she runs into my arms. She gives me a good, hard squeeze and stretches up to kiss me.

"It was wonderful!" Beaming, she gushes on about her day. Watering the flowers, pulling weeds, baking pies. I can't help but laugh as her excitement all but explodes from within her.

"How was your trip? Did you bring anything back?" Grinning from ear to ear, she puts her hands over the pockets of my shirt. I open my arms giving her free reign to explore in all of them. This is always our game. Each time I return from a trip, I put a small gift for her in one of my pockets and she looks for it. Her very first gift was an engagement ring so it's hard to top that, obviously, but she never fails to be grateful for any little thing I bring back for her. This time it's a wooden sunflower I had whittled for her during my free time.

She found her trinket in my left back pocket, squealed like a child who had just been given a puppy then hugged it to her chest and kissed me again.

"I love it!" she exclaimed as she smiled happily up to me. I can't help but to chuckle. Her joy is contagious. I sweep her up in my arms and hold her close, inhaling her scent which always smells of fresh air and flowers. Her being my wife makes me the luckiest man alive.

Still holding her in my arms, I carry her to the kitchen and set her on her feet then drop into a chair. I'm tired and I know that apple pie I smell was made with fresh apples from our tree out back. Knowing just what I want, as she always does, she all but skips to the pie, cutting us each a slice before sitting down beside me.

I take a big bite and close my eyes, chewing slowly to savor the taste. She certainly has become a wonderful baker. Much better than she was when we first married. With my heart full of love and happiness, I listen to every single word as she chatters on about her week, laughing heartily as she tells about a raccoon scaring her in the middle of the night by scratching at the bedroom window.

Finally, her tales of the week coming to an end as I near the last of my second piece of pie, she leans in closer to me and runs her free foot along my pantleg and whispers, "Do you have anything else for me, Ben?"

I look over to her and grin because I know what she's asking and that's about the only thing that could possibly tear me away from this delicious pie. We race to the bedroom and spend the rest of the evening there falling asleep in one another's arms and already looking forward to tomorrow.