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The Proposal (cont.)
I took some back ways to avoid the logjam, arriving at my home at 6:50. I flew through my bedroom, hung up my cleaning in the closet and proceeded to change in lightning speed. I spritzed my neck with some Ck One cologne and waited for Amy to arrive. She looked dazzling in her gold and maroon dress which I had never seen before.
After all the hurry, now I was anxiously waiting for the limo, sitting on the edge of my blue sleeper sofa in the living room.
Amy looked at me strangely. "I thought you said we were on a tight schedule which is why I needed to be here right now."
"We are on a tight schedule. So, how was your day?"
"Adam, what are you doing?"
"Excuse me. I'll be right back." I went to my bedroom closet, closed the door and dialed Larry, the limo driver.
"Larry, where are you? I'm dying over here." I pleaded.
"I'm two exits away, but traffic is bumper to bumper."
"Can't you pull your 'Chitty Chitty Bang Bang' button and just fly over here?"
"That's good. I'll have to remember that one."
I went back out into the living room, smiled weakly and felt like asking, "How 'bout them Spurs?" But I figured that Amy might just conclude too quickly that I was stalling.
Then my cell phone rang. I looked down. Saw that it was good ole Larry.
"Excuse me. I'll be right back."
I ran to the back bedroom for privacy again. "What's going on I asked?"
"Adam, what's the gate code?"
"I e-mailed that to your company yesterday."
"Well, I don't have it."
"Fine," I said impatiently. "Do you know how to get to my house from the front entrance?"
Famous last word. He didn't have a clue.
He drove around in circles for the next 10 minutes. I excused myself one final time. "Larry, where are you? It's getting later and later." So I explained which streets to turn down even though they should have map quested the entire evening ahead of time.
Not surprisingly, with all the back and forth and the waiting, Amy figured out that I had hired a limo for the evening. But she gave me the courtesy of not telling me.
Our first destination, once we had climbed into the black stretch limo, was the Lighthouse Coffee and Café, the location of our first date four years prior. In fact, I had even made arrangements for us to sit at the very same table where we had that date.
Except for the change in people, the restaurant looked just like it had four years beforehand. Crisp, clean white tablecloths covered the tables featuring small votive candles and single stem roses which completed the look.
As we sat down, I reached across the table for her hand, bowed my head, and prayed, "Thank you God for sending me such a perfect future bride as Amy Michelle. She's a blessing to me and I will always treasure her."
I looked up and the sight of her tears made me cry. We enjoyed great conversation and one of the tastiest bowls of soup I've ever eaten anywhere. No sooner had we eaten the soup, than I announced the need to climb back into the waiting limo.
"But what about the rest of our meal?" she asked.
"Don't worry. You'll get plenty to eat tonight."
She kept trying to figure out where we were headed and what exactly might be on the itinerary for that evening. Frankly, this is one time I was grateful for her poor sense of direction!
We had taken I-35 North toward Austin. Amy hadn't guessed yet. Then the limo driver took a New Braunfels exit. I kept looking at my watch with anticipation. We were only about six minutes behind schedule. And then the small, illuminated billboard to our left revealed my secret. It declared, "T Bar M Resort and Camps."
"I can't believe you Adam," she said as she smiled, squeezed my hand and leaned in for a tender kiss.
"I thought you might like this." I smiled back.
Of course, we had met at T Bar M Camps back in September, 2001 on a Community Bible Church singles retreat. And now we were returning to the scene of the crime.
As the limo passed the outdoor swimming pool, I could see several people with flashlights waving us forward. Then, I noticed the tikki torches. Their yellowish-orange flames lit up the walkway to the dining room in a dramatic fashion. I had hired one of the T Bar M Camp Counselors, who was a camera wiz, to take pictures. Her flash was already snapping pictures.
To be honest, the whole thing looked like a scene from "The Bachelor" TV show. Thank God Almighty, if tonight went off without a hitch, my bachelorhood days would be rapidly drawing to a close.
After Larry parked the limo, he came around to our door and opened it. We both felt like royalty for one magical night. When we stepped out, we were warmly welcomed by Johnny Polk, the T Bar M Camp Director. I barely recognized him. Normally dressed in a comfortable T-shirt and shorts, he was sporting a tie and suit and had lost his characteristic baseball cap.
"McManus, only for you," he said with a grin that went from ear to ear. "The only time I wear a suit is when I attend weddings and funerals. So consider yourself blessed!"
"I sure do."
With enough energy for three men, Johnny was the godly leader of the busy Christian camping program there, and one of the sponsors of my talk show, helping parents to mold their children and teenagers through power-packed, week-long programs to become champions for Christ.
Sporting an athletic build and shortly cropped brown hair, he really lights up when he talks about taking a stand for Biblical values in a culture gone mad. He must drink that Dick Clark Fountain of Youth serum. He could be anywhere from 35 to 45. Uncle Sam must love Johnny. He's one of the 4% of Americans who actually eats his five servings of fruits and vegetables every day with rare exception.
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