Beautiful

    Beautiful leaned into her Deliverer as they walked.  She didn’t need a mirror to know—her face was smudged with dirt, her eyes swollen from a week’s worth of tears.  Not because of the brutes.  She hadn’t stopped crying since she walked away from Seeker.   Her hair was wild—she hadn’t even brushed it before slipping out to hear Kind speak.  No one was supposed to see her.  That was what the veil was for—to hide the tears.

    Seeker didn’t even notice—he just looked at her with love in his eyes.  Her Deliverer.  She had cried out to the King, just as Christiana had long ago—and He had heard her.  She never doubted He would.

    The King had sent him.  The thought sent a shiver through her.  To walk with her.  Her heart ached for Christiana—she never knew what it was to walk beside Christian.  Beautiful clutched Seeker’s hand.  She would never let go.  Never. 

    Fair-Glance and Cheerful stood talking in front of the cottage.  Fair-Glance looked at their intertwined fingers—disapproving.  Beautiful didn’t care.  Cheerful beamed at her.

    “You’re a mess, Beautiful,” he said.  “But you’re still Beautiful.”  A mischievous glint lit his eyes.  “To me.”  Then with a teasing shrug he added, “I’ll wait.  While you… freshen up.”

   Her temper sparked—just for a second.  But his eyes danced, full of mischief and tenderness.  She loved him.  No doubt at all.

    Beautiful lifted her chin and closed her eyes, waiting.  She opened them again.  What was he looking at?  Pay attention!  Without another thought, she grabbed his head and pulled his lips to hers—right there in front of the cottage.

    “Go,” he urged, voice quiet but sure.  “I’ll be right here waiting, Baby.”

   She didn’t protest.  Baby.  She liked the sound of it—more than she wanted to admit.  That word belonged to him now.

    Seeker couldn’t stand it anymore.  He grabbed his staff and headed out—Kind always knew the right thing to say.  It’d been a whole week since they’d spoken.  It’s not like he had a reason for not going sooner.  Kind was sure to give him an earful for that.

    The air was chill, the sky heavy with clouds, as Seeker trudged the Narrow Way.  In the distance, a woman in a slate-colored dress and veil walked alone.  Three brutes emerged, blocking her path.  Seeker stiffened, heart lurching.  They circled her.  He broke into a run.

    The scene from Beautiful’s Book flashed into his mind—Christiana and Mercy, ambushed in the Way.  The ill-favored one had promised to “make women of you forever.”  But the King had sent a Deliverer.  There would be no Deliverer this time.  There had been no Evangelist for him.  No Good-Will.  No Interpreter.  There would be no Deliverer for her, either.  There was only him.

    A sharp cry escaped his lips—he couldn’t hold back.  They turned.  He sprinted toward them, staff raised and swung with all his strength.  The blow landed clean—cracking against the nearest thug’s skull.  The man dropped like a stone.

    One of the brutes had the veiled woman by the arm.  “I’ll have my way with you once I finish with this runt,” he growled.  He shoved her to the ground and turned on Seeker.

    Seeker swung his staff, but the brute blocked it and knocked it from his hands.  A vision of Blunt in Stupidity flashed through his mind.  Fear surged—he wasn’t a fighter, and now he was unarmed.  But he had no choice.

    Fury welled up inside him.  He clenched his fist, drew it back, and hurled his weight into the punch.  The brute’s nose crumpled, blood spraying.  Seeker stooped, grabbed his fallen staff, and turned—just in time to see the last one running.

    Seeker held out his hand to the young lady trembling on the ground.  “Are you all right, Miss…”

    She pulled back her veil, and a wild mess of black curls tumbled free.  Her eyes were swollen, her face streaked with tears and dirt.

    “Beautiful?”  She was a mess—but she was still Beautiful.

    Beautiful sprang to her feet and fell into Seeker’s arms.

    “I love you, Seeker.”

    Seeker stood stunned.  This was the last thing he’d expected today.

    Lightning flashed in her eyes.  “I said I love you, you dumb boy!”

    She looked so adorable when she got like that.  

    “When did this happen?” he teased, heart racing.

    Beautiful stared at him, speechless.

    For a moment, they just looked at each other, then they both broke out laughing.

    Then they kissed.  It was a new beginning.

    Beautiful sat on her bed, tears streaking her cheeks.  She clutched the handbag he’d made, pressed tight to her heart.  She wanted to go to his room—to apologize.  But what would she even say?  She had counted every day.  It had been exactly seven.  She couldn’t wait another.  

    She opened the door, stepped into the hall… then stopped.

    No.  She would wait.

***

      Seeker paced his room, back and forth, back and forth.  He couldn’t think—couldn’t even read.  The list sat on the table, untouched.  He had a hundred—no, a thousand—reasons to love her.  And not one written down.

    He opened the lid of the music box and let the melody spill into the silence.  It had been a week.  He missed her.  Desperately.  How was he going to last a month?

    He reached for the door.  He’d go to her.  Say he was sorry.  But for what?  Loving her?

    He paused, hand on the handle.  She’d said a month.

    Beautiful woke to the sun rising over the horizon, a light frost dusting the ground.  The sheep grazed contentedly around her, unfazed by the chill.  Warmth still radiated from the campfire’s embers.  Seeker’s arm was around her—and she nestled in closer with a soft sigh.

    Seeker opened his eyes and smiled.  She gazed into those big, brown eyes—so full of tenderness.  Reaching up, she drew his lips to hers and kissed him, light and lingering.

     He looked at her, eyes searching hers.

     “I love you,” he said.

     No.  No.  No.  No.  

    Why did he have to ruin the moment?  She had promised—promised she’d only ever tell one man she loved him.  The kiss part?  She added that later.  Because deep down, she knew she would love the man she kissed.  And she did.  She loved Seeker.  With all her heart.  But she couldn’t say it.  Not now.  Not yet.  “I love you” was forever.  And she didn’t even know if…

    Some words shouldn’t be spoken.  He should know that.  Shouldn’t he be able to read her heart?  She loved him.  Did he really need her to say it aloud to believe it?   What was wrong with him?

Her temper flared—hot and sudden—but she caught herself, breathing it down.

    “When did this happen?” she asked, calm on the outside.  She was sure of it.

    “When you climbed the wall,” he stammered.  “When you tricked me into saying it the first time—I love you.”

    “Do you even know what love means?”  she demanded.  “Think of every reason you love me—and make a list.  Give it to me.  A month from now.”  She hesitated, then added, “We need a break.  Time to think things through.”

     Her heart sank.  Why had she said a month?  That was forever.  A week would’ve been enough.  Long enough to think.

    This was his fault.  She stood, fists clenched and walked away—leaving Seeker alone beside the cold, gray embers.

***

    Seeker sat frozen, staring at the cold embers.  What had just happened?  She loved him—he was sure of it.  And yet, she was gone.  A month.  Maybe forever.

   Tears stung his eyes, but he blinked them back, stubbornly refusing to let them fall.  Only babies cry.  He made himself a vow.  He would never cry again.  Never.

    Just then, Tirzah came out of the tent wiping the sleep from her eyes.  “Still here, Seeker?”  She paused.  “Where’s Miss Beautiful?”

    “I ruined the perfect night.  Funny thing is, I don’t even know what I did wrong.  And now she’s gone.”

   Tirzah wheeled, leveling a piercing gaze at him.  “Don’t be a dummy, Seeker!  She loves you—everyone can see it.  Except you.  She will never leave you.  Not ever.”

    Doubt filled his mind.  If only he could be as sure as Tirzah.

    Christmas Eve had finally arrived—she’d been counting the days.  Would he like the music box she’d had made for him?  He loved music, and she’d managed to find out his favorite song without raising his suspicions.  Sometimes, he really could miss the obvious.

    He loved it, of course.  And she loved her new handbag.  He must’ve noticed her old one—but now, she didn’t care.  Her warrior poet was a craftsman, too.  Would he ever stop surprising her?

    She’d loved the meal with Kind and his family, and the service had left her heart aglow.  Now she sat with Seeker under the Christmas Star, firelight fading to embers.  What a perfect night.  If only it could last forever.

    She woke to Seeker’s lips on hers.  That didn’t count—he had kissed her.  No… she wanted it.  She leaned in and kissed him back, soft and certain.  That counted.  

    She let go.  

    And when they kissed again, she didn’t hold back.

    Beautiful awoke with a start—the sun already halfway up the sky.  She’d slept like a baby.  Then the panic hit.  What would Seeker think?  She rushed to brush her hair.  Splashed water on her face.  The common room was empty.  Heart racing, she bolted for the pasture.  There he was—talking to Kind, like nothing was wrong.

    She could see the unguarded affection in Kind’s eyes.  If Kind liked him, he couldn’t be half-bad.  Right?

    Kind teased her about being late.  Fair enough—she was terrible at judging time.  But this time, it really wasn’t her fault.

    “You can’t keep me up all night like that anymore,” she whispered to Seeker.  Her cheeks warmed.  She really hoped Kind hadn’t heard—she didn’t want him getting the wrong idea.  She leaned closer, lowering her voice even more.   “You have my days, that should be enough for you.” But not enough for me.  She wisely kept that one to herself.

    Had Kind just invited them to celebrate the Prince’s Birth?  She turned to him, brows lifted in a silent question.

    “You and Seeker are always welcome in my tent,” he said.  “Both of you.”  He looked at her like he knew.

   When she turned, Gracious was laughing at something Seeker had said.  Companion had definitely been a bad influence on him!

    That night Beautiful went to Seeker in the dream—this time on purpose.  He was already there, waiting.

    “It’s really you, isn’t it?” she whispered.

    He nodded, eyes gentle.  “You kept your promise.”

    She seized his hand without hesitation—right there in front of the cottage.  This was their dream.  Their rules.  No one could stop them.

    “You can hold my hand here,” she said, lifting her chin.  “Nowhere else.”

    He nodded.

    They raced down the stairs toward the ravine, her laughter chasing after the wind.  She skipped across the stream, rock to rock, with no fear of slipping.   The Stately Palace rose beside her—grand and dignified—but she barely glanced at it.  Who cared about ancient halls?  She had her Odysseus.  They wound along the ravine, the stream leaping beside them in playful bursts.

    Seeker dropped onto a smooth rock and let his boots drift through the cascading stream.  He laughed.  “Try this out!” he called.

    Beautiful stepped in without hesitation, unconcerned about her leggings or shoes.  The luminous water was cool, bright, and impossibly clean.  It curled around her like wind, flowing through her fingers and around her ankles without leaving a trace.  She twirled through it, laughing.  Together they danced beneath the waterfall, the water around them—gentle, alive, and brimming with joy.

    Beautiful settled beside Seeker and leaned into his chest—solid, steady, warm.  A soft sigh escaped her lips.  If only this night would never end.

    At last, the time came to leave.  Seeker leaned in to kiss her.  This was her dream—she could do whatever she wanted.  But it was real.  It counted.  She turned—not to meet his lips, but to offer her cheek. 

    Beautiful hung back, careful not to let Seeker see how eager she was for their little adventure.  Let him lead.  He seemed happy to.

    “Here’s the Dusty Parlor,” he said.  Well, obviously.

      They came to a doorway, blocked by rubble.  “The Interpreter showed Christian many things in the rooms on the other side.” 

     Did he think she didn’t know the history of the ruins?   He could be so obnoxious.  “And Christiana,” she added.

    He shot her a puzzled look.  She knew something he didn’t.  She’d show him—after dinner.

     “This is where the tour ends.” He stopped in front of a crumbled wall, no taller than she was.

    Why would he bring her here only to stop?  Didn’t he know that all good things take effort?  She would show him.  She grabbed her dress in one hand and started climbing the wall. 

    She hauled herself up—harder than she expected.  Her arms strained, slipping a little.  No way she was asking for help.

    She landed on the other side and called back, “Are you coming, little baby?”  She grinned.  That ought to show him.

    “Don’t call me…” he started.

    She giggled.  He couldn’t even finish the sentence.

    She dashed up the stairs to the tower door.  Locked.  That was it?  The end of their adventure?  She yanked on the handle—it didn’t budge. Too early.  It couldn’t be over yet.

    He walked over, calm as ever, pulled a clasp-knife from his satchel, and flipped it open.  She’d never seen it before—she was sure of that.  And yet… he’d given it to her in her dream.  Curious.

   He slid his knife into the crack between the door and frame—smooth, like he’d done it a thousand times.  The door swung open.  She just stared.  What else didn’t she know about him?

    She held out her hand, waiting.  But he was already bounding up the stairs without her.

    “I’m waiting…” she called.  He could be so oblivious.  Did he want to hold her hand or not?

    He retraced his steps without a word, and their fingers found each other.  Hand in hand, they started up the stairs.  There wasn’t as much room as she’d expected—she was pressed right up against him.  But she didn’t let go.  She could feel his heartbeat—slow, steady, strong—echoing through her.  She felt safe.  Her own heart answered his, beat for beat.

    What was at the top of the tower that had him intrigued?  Her curiosity was killing her.

    She lit up.  Books.  So, he was a warrior poet?  Maybe he was her type after all.  Ridiculous.  She’d been positively absurd the last few days.

   She ran her finger across the spines.  The Measure of a Man.  The Hidden Well.  The Yoke and the Plough.  He really was a deep thinker.  One title stopped her—written in a script she didn’t recognize.  

   “What is this one?” she asked.

    “That is the New Testament,” he replied.  “It’s in Greek.”

    Warrior poet.  Like Odysseus.  Of course he could read Greek.  But she had to be sure.

   “How do you say…” she hesitated for half a second, then blurted “I love you.”  That didn’t count.  She said it, sure—but she didn’t mean it like that.

   The dumb boy said “Ah-gah-PAH-oh.”

   He had said it.  And she liked hearing it.  No one had ever said that to her before.

    “Thank you!”  She laughed to herself.  She was getting good at this.  But… she shouldn’t be cruel.  Not to him.

    When Beautiful woke, the sky was still dark, a faint silver glow brushing the edge of the horizon.  She lit a candle and stared into the mirror.  Carefully, she brushed her hair, coaxing the curls back in place.  One night of sleep and her hair was as wild as Miss Cheerful’s.  Well, maybe not that bad.

    She didn’t want to wear the same dress again—but she didn’t have many.  It wasn’t about impressing Seeker.  She just needed something good for exploring ruins.

    When did Seeker eat breakfast?  She wasn’t sure.  Better to get there early—just in case.

    She set two places.  One for her—and one right beside it.  As she waited, the thought struck her.  Two plates?  What was she thinking?  He’d know she’d been waiting for him.  She reached to whisk one away—and froze as he stepped into the doorway.

    “Good morning, baby,” she said, trying not to glance at the second plate.  She eyed the day-old bread.  “It’s not apples, but it’ll have to do.”  She felt very clever at her private joke.

    He sat down in front of the second plate.  So—he noticed.  Oh well.  His hand drifted to hers.

    “Not here, I said!”  Maybe she should let him—she still remembered how his hand felt in the dream.  But she pulled hers away anyway.

    “What is it you do in that tower, Seeker?” she said, keeping her voice light.  Not light enough.  Too eager.  He’d be suspicious for sure.

    He picked up on it—of course he did.  She’d just let it slip that she’d noticed him before.  She scrambled to cover.  “Everyone knows, little baby.”  She threw in little to make it sound less… endearing.

    “Come and see, baby,” he teased.

   How dare he call her baby?  “Don’t call me baby!”

    Beautiful was surprised to find herself dreaming of Seeker.  She held his hand tightly as they walked through the pastures, passing Shepherds and Pilgrims.  She was free to do as she pleased—unbothered by their glances.

    When they reached an orchard, he picked an apple—red and luscious—and handed it to her.   She took his clasp-knife, sliced a piece, and offered him the first bite.

   He stared at her with an intensity that made her feel—well, beautiful.  Maybe for the first time.  She leaned in to give him the kiss she’d denied. But she woke up first.

    Her heart was pounding.  That was close.  Did dreams count?  It was her dream, after all.  No one would know.  She didn’t even have to tell Seeker.  

    She hoped he’d dreamt of her.  She really did.  She needed to stop making promises she couldn’t keep.