The Eighth Proposal He Buried in the Snow

Looking down at the shredded gown, I shook all over.

I lifted my head to demand an answer, and there was Jude Henson running toward us, a familiar face beside him.

"Mom, what happened?!"

Blanche Delgado's eyes brimmed with tears as she helped the middle-aged woman up off the floor.

The first thing I saw was the ring on her left hand.

It was the ring Jude bought the third time he proposed to me.

Seven years. Seven proposal rings.

But at home I'd only ever found six.

Once, I'd thought Jude had simply lost one by accident.

I'd never imagined it was sitting on Blanche Delgado's finger.

It was as though a hand had reached across the air and closed around my throat. I couldn't breathe.

I looked at Jude and forced the words out, shaking.

"Jude, why is the proposal ring you gave me on her hand?"

My eyes locked onto him. But before he could answer,

Blanche shot to her feet and slapped me across the face.

"Aisha, don't you know my mother has a heart condition and high blood pressure?!"

"One shove from you could have killed her!"

The words came out choked as Blanche fussed over her flush-faced mother.

Both my cheeks had been struck now, and I tasted blood in my mouth.

A ringing wouldn't stop in my ears. My fingers clenched as I stared at Jude.

Tears spilled out before I could stop them.

"Jude, say something!"

"Why is the proposal ring you gave me on Blanche Delgado's hand?!"

"What do you mean, the proposal ring he gave you?!"

"My daughter went with him to pick that ring. It was always meant for her!"

"You filthy little mistress. I'll show you my daughter's marriage license, and we'll see how much fight you've got left!"

Blanche's mother, her face twisted with malice, yanked out a red marriage license and flung it hard into my face.

The sharp corner struck me in the eye.

I shut my eyes against the pain, and when I opened them again I was looking at the first page of the license.

Jude and Blanche in white shirts, smiling.

The marriage date was the day after my third refusal of his proposal.

"You see it now?!"

"Take my advice, mistress, and stop hanging on my son-in-law!"

"Or I'll have you exposed online, so your parents up in the northern highlands can see the fine daughter they raised."

"A perfectly decent life, and you run off to New York to be somebody's mistress!"

The ugly words came one after another.

I kept my head down and let the tears fall, drop by drop.

Until at last Blanche coaxed her mother away.

Jude walked up to me.

He raised a hand to smooth my hair, and that familiar, long-suffering sigh slipped out.

"Aisha, it hurts, doesn't it? Let me take you to get that looked at."

Not one word of explanation. Not one word of apology.

Jude was trying to cover something sickening with a gentle face.

I threw his hand off hard.

And the words tore out of me.

"Jude, why did you lie to me?!"

"You'd already married Blanche Delgado. Why keep proposing to me, over and over?!"

"Did it make you happy, playing with me?!"

"Happy?"

"Aisha, the first time I proposed and you turned me down, I could understand that."

"But turning me down three times? That's not me playing you. That's you playing me!"

For the first time, Jude's mild, easy face filled with anger.

The veins stood out at his temple, and his fingers curled into a fist.

"You came away from the northern highlands with me of your own will. I didn't force you, did I?"

"Back in New York, I ran myself ragged for you, helped you settle in, helped you find decent work. You can't deny any of that, can you?"