“Pterodactyl,” Inge muttered, “and by that, I mean she could eat one by
herself!” The women laughed and Inge took another pig in the blanket from
Tyler’s plate. “I guess the correct phrasing was Singe
eats
birds and likes them
too!”
“I’m a chicken fan myself,” Tyler said. “And thus I have fulfilled my quota
for affirming stereotypes today.”
Ingle giggled again and reached for another pig. “No, Tyler, no stereotypes
for you.”
“No?”
“No,” Inge insisted and arched an eyebrow. “Are you
sure
you don’t want to
model? Ever?”
“Can you imagine!”
“I can!” Inge said, her eyes sparkling with a pitch. “And with Gunnar too?
You two would be the new Iman and David Bowie!”
“Except Gunnar would be Iman!”
Inge arched an eyebrow again. “None of that! Gunnar would still be David,
and we all know it!”
It made Tyler feel light and shyly pleased to hear Inge speak so highly of
her. As someone who had significant pull in the entertainment business, Inge’s
pronouncements were rarely ignored and often heeded. If Inge thought Tyler
had a chance at modeling, then Tyler did. However, Tyler still didn’t think she
was ready for that particular spotlight.
In the two months since Gunnar’s return to the States, their relationship
had strengthened in a way that surprised and bolstered Tyler. There had been
setbacks, especially when, upon starting her tweaked workout regimen, she’d
gained weight. Gunnar refused to let her feel discouraged, though.
“I’d miss these curves if they completely went away, you know,” Gunnar
had said as he wrapped his arms behind her as she stood on his electronic
scale. The number increased, and they had laughed. Gunnar decided they
would just try to maintain her current weight, which was lower than when
she’d met Gunnar, but not as low as when she’d been on her extreme diet and
taking those pills.
Tyler’s chiropractor had given her a passing grade at her last appointment,
telling her to keep up the good work. Wendy and Valerie helped Tyler update
her wardrobe to find clothes that were flattering instead of frumpy. And
Carmen made sure Tyler ate at least three full meals a day and had put fruit
snacks in the refrigerator at Soul Cuts just in case Tyler got hungry between
them.
216
Savannah J. Frierson
Baby preparations also had kept Tyler active and in high spirits. Wendy
was getting huge, something that shocked everyone considering she’d been
tiny even into her fifth month; but it had seemed when month six had arrived,
the baby had grown exponentially.
“That’s my boy,” Damon would say proudly, especially after the obstetri-
cian had confirmed it was indeed a boy, “the linebacker—”
“No, sir!” Wendy had said, scowling at her fiancée and rubbing her belly
wearily. “The way this boy kicks? Look out, John Kasay!”
Tyler knew they were glad they’d gotten the wedding out of the way—
even if it had been a surprise one for all the guests involved. Turned out the
barbecue was actually a cover for the wedding. Everyone had been eating and
having a good time when suddenly Damon had appeared wearing a white linen
button-down shirt and cream khaki pants followed by Wendy wearing a white
strapless tunic and cream capris. There had been a white tulip tucked in her
ear and a bouquet of white roses in her hands.
Everyone’s mouth had dropped open.
“Oops,” Damon had said with his customary snicker. “My bad. Did we for-
get to tell y’all we were gettin’ married today?”
Damon’s mother had hit him with an empty paper towel roll repeatedly,
sobbing with anger and happiness that her baby had tricked her.
“At least the boy invited us, damn!” Damon’s father had said, and everyone
had laughed, conceding his point.
Wendy had gotten Tyler a small bouquet of red roses and she stood up
with Wendy while Damon had pinned a red tulip to Gunnar’s blue button-
down shirt to designate him as the best man. The ceremony had been quick,
and by the time Damon and Wendy had shared their first kiss, there were very
few dry eyes in the backyard.
Wendy hadn’t thrown the bouquet after the wedding. In fact, she’d had
the audacity to walk to Tyler and put it in her hands.
“Wendy!” Tyler had exclaimed, blushing and mortified. “You can’t do this!”
“It’s my wedding! I can do what I want!” Wendy had replied. “And if it
makes you feel any better, Gunnar’s gonna get my garter, so what you say
about that?”
“I say you betta be lucky you preggers,” Tyler had said through gritted
teeth.
Wendy had given her a wide mockery of a smile and patted her belly.
“Blessed and highly favored!”
Gunnar had straight showed out when it had been time to put the garter
on her. At first, he’d started properly by using his hands, but once the garment
had gotten over her knee, he’d used his nose to slide it up as far as it could go
on her thigh, which had been about mid-way. With each nudge of his nose,
he’d also nipped and kissed her skin, making her jump and her panties grow
damper with each contact.
The Beauty Within
“I hate you,” she’d muttered amid the laughter, squeals, and catcalls of their
audience.
“Then I think I like your definition of hate,” Gunnar had said, ending her
sweet torture with a wink and standing. “Time to dance,
kjære
.”
“Dance?” Tyler asked, pulled from her memories. She and Inge had lapsed
into a comfortable silence as they watched the partygoers, but now Inge was
pointing into the crowd.
“Yes, right over there,” Tekla said, who had just joined her and Inge. Tyler’s
eyes followed Tekla’s finger to see Singe standing on top of Gunnar’s feet as
they danced to music that, until then, had just been background. The revelers
had parted ways to provide a makeshift dance floor for them, but the pair was
too focused on making sure Singe maintained her balance to notice. Tyler fell
even more in love with Gunnar at the sight. A man who adored children—
could he get any better?
“I’m glad I didn’t tell her you’d be giving her a cousin too,” Inge said under
her breath. “
That
would’ve been awkward!”
“Inge!”
Inge laughed, not bothered by Tyler’s or her mother’s chastisement. “I’m
gonna love having you and Wendy in this family!”
Tyler blushed at that comment but said nothing, especially when Tekla’s
smirk said she agreed with her daughter’s statement. The song transitioned to
another, but now Singe was in her uncle’s arms blinking slowly. Roger, a tall
brunet with kind eyes and demeanor, came and relieved Gunnar of his daugh-
ter. Euan had brought up the rear, the slumbering pixie-faced brunette Greta
curled around her grandfather. After Gunnar had transferred Singe to Roger,
the men looked at the women in their lives, and all three smiled in a way that
made her, Inge, and Tekla catch their breaths.
“Oh!” Tyler gasped.
“He’s gettin’ some tonight!” Inge declared. Tyler felt as if she’d spoken for
all three of them.
An hour later, Tyler and Gunnar were on the beach below Roger and Inge’s
home. Though there was no moon tonight, the lights from the other beachfront
houses provided enough illumination for their stroll. They walked quietly hand
in hand, though Gunnar held both of their shoes in his free hand. Tyler hadn’t
felt this at peace in a long time, and she treasured the sensation. As they
walked back to Inge and Roger’s house, Tyler rested her cheek against Gun-
nar’s bicep and smiled when he kissed the top of her head. No words had been
exchanged during the entire walk, but she’d felt as close to Gunnar as she’d
ever had during their entire relationship.
Eventually they returned to where they had started, but now there were
flameless lanterns, a plaid blanket, a bowl of strawberries, and a chilling wine
bottle with two wine glasses on either side of the ice bucket in which the
bottle sat.
218
Savannah J. Frierson
“Wow,” Tyler mumbled, squeezing Gunnar’s hand as she lifted her head
from his shoulder and stood straighter.
“Do you like it?” Gunnar asked, kissing a shoulder the slim straps of her
mulberry knee-length empire dress exposed.
“It’s gorgeous, Gunnar,” Tyler admitted, and her body felt flush with rom-
ance and excitement. Gunnar sat down first, then held out a hand to help settle
her between his legs. The ocean waves gently crashed along the shore, and the
sea-salt air mingled nicely with the sweet, fruity scent of the strawberries and
Gunnar’s natural mountain aroma. Tyler felt so relaxed that she almost fell
asleep a few times, but Gunnar would squeeze her hip to bring her back to
alertness.
“Can’t sleep yet,” he whispered.
Tyler pouted and burrowed into him. “Why not?” He was too comfortable
to ward off slumber.
He chuckled. “You haven’t said yes yet.”
Tyler frowned. “Huh?”
Instead of answering, Gunnar held a strawberry to her mouth. “Open.”
Tyler did, and when he placed the pointed end of the strawberry to her
mouth, she bit down. Her teeth closed around something hard, and she gasped
in surprised.
“What the—!” Strawberries didn’t have pits!
“Let me check that out for you,” Gunnar said softly. His large fingers pulled
away strawberry flesh to reveal a platinum-band ring with gold topaz gems
leading up to a large golden pearl center.
“It’s not my birthday,” Tyler muttered, knowing good and well Gunnar
knew that, but refusing to assume there was another reason he held a ring in
his hand.
“No, it’s not,” Gunnar agreed, laughter in his voice. “I do believe it is not
November twenty-fifth.”
“No…”
“However,” Gunnar said, dropping his voice and taking her left hand in his.
“I wouldn’t mind the late-August day to commemorate something else?”
“What?” She sounded strangled, she knew, but she couldn’t take in a prop-
er breath.
“The day you agreed to marry me.”
Tyler turned her face into his neck. She didn’t cry, too overwhelmed with
emotion to do so. She breathed him in deep, infused her lungs and insides with
his presence and spirit. Gunnar held her close, murmuring softly in Norwegian,
words she instinctively knew were assurances.
“
Du er min sol, måne og stjerner
,” he whispered against her temple. “
Du fyller
mitt hjerte med glede
.” Gunnar pulled back to kiss her forehead, and she fell into
his gray eyes that were so intense and full of love. “
Jeg elsker deg
, Tyler.
Vil du gifte
deg med meg
?”
The Beauty Within
219
She could no longer hear the ocean. She no longer saw the lanterns, the
ring, the house behind them, the sky. All she saw were Gunnar and his eyes,
eyes that had pierced her and claimed her really from the moment they had
locked on her. Though they hadn’t started off on the greatest of feet, they’d
righted themselves, falling first into friendship, and then into something
deeper. Even through their trials, trials that would’ve decimated other relation-
ships, they had managed to find their way back to each other and bond
stronger than ever.
“Tyler
? Vær så snill
?
Vil du gifte deg med meg
?”
Her ears and brain might not have been able to decipher all the words, but
her heart had no trouble understanding them. She cupped his cheek and kissed
him sweetly, breaking apart briefly to utter one word she’d called up from the
bottom of her heart.
“Yes.”
About the Author
Savannah J. Frierson is a 2005 graduate of Harvard College with concentra-
tions in African and African-American Studies, and English. Originally from
Blythewood, SC, she currently lives in Somerville, MA where she works as a
proofreader and freelance editor. She has been writing since she was twelve
years old, and she released her debut novel
Being Plumville
in March 2007
with iUniverse, Inc; her second effort, the novella
AJ’s Serendipity
in Decem-
ber 2007 with Lulu Press; and her third, the short story
The Coach’s Counselor
in July 2008 with Red Rose Publishing, LLC. For more information about
these and other titles, you can visit Savannah’s Web site at
http://www.sjfbooks.com and contact Savannah by e-mail at sfrier-
[email protected]. You can also send snail mail to:
Savannah J. Frierson
519 Somerville Avenue, #167
Somerville, MA 02143