"You are my sun,

my moon,

and all of my stars."

- E.E. Cummings

  WYATT

Gently twisting the nozzle to the propane tank, the flames roar to life. Propping my feet up on the table surrounding the pit, I can feel the heat radiate, as the warmth travels from the soles of my bare feet to my toes, knocking the slight chill from the night's air. Since my breakthrough, I have laid back on the hard stuff but still enjoy an occasional drink in moderation. Relaxing for the evening, I take a sip of beer. I shift my gaze to Abbie, watching as she too settled in, lying back on the cream cushioned loveseat, pulling her long waves free from the hair tie after a long day of deep cleaning and helping Alivia pack.

She figured after almost a year of dating Sean; it was time to move their relationship to the next step. In theory, she had already moved in with Sean months ago. But this time, it was official, confirmed with two truckloads of her belongs hauled to their new resting place. She would spend most of her evenings with Sean and only came here to visit, run with Abbie and swap out her wardrobe weekly. The silence was weird at first, we even started to miss her loud and dramatic outburst, her music, random solo dance parties and messy habits. But somehow even with Livi gone, this house felt more like home with just Abbie and me.

Running her small delicate fingers from her free hand through her hair, her dark glossy waves spill onto the armrest and pillows. As she lifts the bookmark opening her book to the midway mark of her latest Corinne Michaels novel, she shifts to snuggle up in one of the many pullovers she has taken from me. Loose-fitting and cozy, the baggy fabric gathers thick in the buckle of her arms and mid-section but manage to fit just right as the hem rests upon her curvy hips. My eyes travel to her silky-smooth legs, admiring the way the glowing flames dance on her sun-kissed skin. It's like heaven watching her in her unknowing beauty, her thoughts lost deep within the pages, how cute it is to watch as her mouth curls up, reacting to the sweeter parts of Corinne's writing I'm sure.

"Abs"

Her brows shift in attention, but her eyes stayed glued to the page for a fraction of a second longer as she quickly finishes the sentence she was on.

"Yes Babe?"

I take another sip of my beer before resting it on the tiled table's edge that framed the firepit, lifting from my seat, I take a few steps to close in our distance and get down on one knee.

Abbie shuts the book, quickly sitting up, tucking that gorgeous hair back. Her eyes gaping in pure awe, Not at the ring but at me. Just as small glimmering droplets start to accumulate. I watch as the color of her sage green eyes change before me into a shade of brightness, I'd never seen on her. The color was warm, almost brownish gold, like when the morning sun hits the Spanish moss in the bayou. Lost in them, I clear my throat realizing I'd been staring, who could blame me.

"Marry me Abbie?"

"Again?" She giggles with a tease before tossing her head back with a shout.

"Yes, YES, a million times yes Wyatt!

She leaps, wrapping her arms around my neck, almost in a choke hold, my leg is hesitant, shaking from my healing injury but I force myself to quickly stand, lifting her from her seat, soft chocolate waves cascade down my face and the scent of her earthy lavender shampoo engulfs my senses as I sink my nose into the corner of her warm neck, pulling her close in a full embrace, it's as time instantly slows.

She draws back to look at me, and once again I'm lost in admiration of her, I watch her full unshaded lips pull up into a smile of symmetrical perfection, unveiling her flawlessly lined teeth. Her bare skin supple, as youthful in beauty as the first time I laid eyes on her on Scott's porch.

The fire crackles and pops as we lie here naked under the moonlight, the stars as our audience for the forbidden dance we committed once again with only a blanket of the cool night air. The tips of her fingers softly trace the scars that shrapnel left along my torso and sides.

"Do they still hurt?"

"No, doll. Not anymore."

Before she gently draws the plaid printed throw blanket up to her chest, Abbie sits up pulling two dripping Bud lights from the cooler. Twisting the tops off before leaning back resting her head on my shoulder.

"Cheers."

"To us."

"To us."

The next morning, to my surprise Abbie was up before me. Prior to my deployment we nearly awoke around the same time, but while overseas my strict schedule didn't exactly allow for sleeping in. Even after adjusting to the time zone change, I still, naturally was the early bird between the two of us.

The smell of browning potatoes, sausage, bacon, sauteed onions and peppers manage to whirl in the air, floating down the hall to the master wing. Thankfully pulling me from the beginning of one of my vivid recurring dreams.

Batting my eyes to adjust to the bright morning sun, I sluggishly remove the comforter, allowing the brisk air to nip at my skin, instantly cooling the little beads of sweat my body accumulated from the glimpse of one of my flashbacks.

"Mornin' Handsome!" Abbie soft voice echoes through the high cathedral ceiling shared with the living room; each slope lined in wood stained the color of honey, the center sporting a chunky darker shaded beam, the pitch slightly smoky from the freshly fried bacon.

Placing the hash brown casserole in the oven, she whirls around to greet me, the bottom of her pink flowy dress fluttered in the air, like a dainty feather in a slight breeze. She walks toward the island, arms over her head as she twists her smooth locks into a messy bun before quartering up a few pints of California strawberries. No out of state strawberries could ever compare to our Louisiana strawberries, especially those from the neighboring Parish in the town of Independence. But Abbie had to have her strawberries and she claimed they tasted just fine. But she never ate these by the handfuls, like the ones back home.

I lean into the counter watching as she effortlessly sliced the fruit in four, occasionally popping some into her mouth.

"Want one?" motioning a wedge to me, only to quickly pull back taking it for herself.

"You tease!" snatching the berry filled bowl from the counter, I lift it over my head "Guess I'll just take all of these!"

"Ah no!" She giggles, playfully trying to reach, tugging at my sleeves to lower the bowl. "Alright, alright, what about a trade off?"

"I'm listening."

"A kiss, for myyy bowl of berries." Her eyes squint as she folds her arms, giving her go at her best, worst poker face.

"ONE? Abs that's criminal! How can I start my day with that? Anddd for this bowl of flawlessly quartered berries, the perfect shade of red?" I pause to add a dramatic effect, hoping for a sigh of frustration or eye roll, happily receiving both. "I'd have to have two, dare I say three Abagail Carr kisses."

"Deal." She agrees, pressing her lips to mine.

"Anddd."

"And?" she questions.

"You let me teach you something."

Handing her the bowl I continue my trade off conditions, "You let me teach you my mama's strawberry jam recipe."

A smile covers her face in a matter of seconds at the proposal.

"Really? The recipe in the jars at the cabin? You know the recipe?"

"That's the one! It's a family secret. Butttt since you are technically my fiancé I guess I can let you in on it early?" I jokingly question. sure to insert a dramatic eye roll in the mix.

"Oh yes! Please! That jam was heaven! What do we need?"

"First, jars. preferably half-pints."

She thinks for moment before lifting a finger, "hold that thought" she jogs down the hall toward the spare closet and waste no time rummaging through the totes.

"Ah, I have half a box. Liv and I got them to make Christmas gifts but used them for pantry storage instead. Is six enough?"

"Six is perfect. Next, we will need roughly four pounds of strawberries, sugar, lemon juice anddddd a medium sized granny smith apple." I add, grabbing one from the fruit basket and tossing it in the air like a baseball.

"Check, check, check. Now what?"

"Now it's time to macerate the strawberries."

"Macerate?"

Answering with a laugh I confirm her question, "Yea, this was my job when I would help mama. It's when you allow the berries to soak in their natural juices. You pour three cups of sugar in. Just like that. Two tablespoons of lemon juice. And one peeled and grated granny smith." Guiding her step by step I move forward, "now fold it allll together."

"Why an apple and why granny smith?"

"Well, you see apples are a natural source of pectin. When heated up at 217 degrees and above, it acts as a thickening agent for the perfect consistency of mama's jam and it adds just the right amount of tart to counteract all the sweet."

Joining her near the island, I stand behind her, slowing her pace.

"Slow Abbie." I whisper, gently covering her hand with my own. "Gently fold."

"Wyatt don't distract me." she laughs leaning into my chest, "I really want to learn this."

"I won't, Scout's honor! But you have to control your urges Abs! This is no time to get flustered. Macerating the berries is a very crucial task."

"Oh hush and kiss me dork!" she whirls around taking my face into her hands and guides me to her lips.

"Ms. Abagail! I am your teacher!" I react in a mocking shock, as she grabs my hand leading me out of the kitchen with a devilish grin.