The snow was hiding. Brown grass jutted in tuffs from the rutted driveway and lawn. Christmas and New Year’s had departed, but Mother Earth still held scars reminiscent of family gatherings and Uncle Jake’s SUV. Ben Bean stood alone in the warmth. It was the tenth of January. The year was still young and the white fleece that covered it at that youthful stage had been shorn away.
A sheep nudged against Ben’s leg, knocking him out of a dream. He instinctively grabbed at the sheep, realizing that the stupid animal was outside its pen. The sheep skittered to one side and Ben tumbled face first into a mud puddle, the size of which could only have been formed by the infamous SUV of Uncle Jake Bean.
Ben rose and slapped his long fingered hands down the front of his leather jacket. He was a mess and the sky looked like rain. Those two things made his day go from bad to worse. What made it terrible was the ringtone of his hand-me-down cell phone in his pocket. It was her ringtone and it was her favorite song, Beethoven’s 9th. Ben didn’t know if the 9th was a song or if there was some other term, but all he knew is that he was late again. She was calling to give him a piece of her mind as he deserved.
Young Bean’s fears, however, were rarely true. Claire O’Carie, his girlfriend for three years now, was a remarkably patient person. He flipped open and cell phone, “Hey, Honey, I know.”
There was silence. Ben thought he may have offended her. But then, to his great relief, he heard her voice. “Dear Ben, you aren’t late. Why do you always worry so much?”
“Oh, okay, then why call me?”
“Because I wanted to tell you I love you, silly! Do I need some philosophical reason? This isn’t Mr. Macleod’s class.”
Ben looked up to the skies, they were turning blue and the sun peeked out from behind a cloud. He smiled. His mind was clearing up too.
“I really appreciate your gift and I love the box it came in. It made me laugh so hard. You are so very creative, Ben.” Claire spoke.
Ben heard some girls giggle in the background. They must have been her little sisters. He wandered back inside, ignoring his mother screaming about the mud on her carpets.
“You’re welcome.” He decided to act as if he actually did know what he gave her. Normally, he delivered his gifts in person because he liked to see her face.
“I can’t wait until you come over this evening.”
“Neither can I,” Ben smiled. Inside, however, he frowned. What had he gotten her? Now the lack of snow was of no matter. He was going to make her snow ice cream, which she loved, on that day, her birthday, but he couldn’t now. The question ate at him. What had he gotten her that pleased her so much?
Wonder gnawed at his mind. He decided to head over early and surprise Claire. He changed, throwing his muddy clothes on his bed, grabbed his car keys, and rushed from his house. The ranting of his mother echoed in the back of his mind. Thoughtlessly, he backed out of his family’s long driveway and unto the dirt road.
Mud peppered the side of his car by the time he reached Claire’s house in town. He pulled into the paved driveway and threw his car a look of disgust as it sat, muddied and rusty, beside Mr. O’Carie’s shiny Cadillac. He shoved his loose shirt tails into his pants, straightened his shoulders, and prepared to go in. He put one hand in his pocket and pulled out a little ticket. It read: Dear Mr. Bean, thank you for your business.
Now he had more questions. What was the ticket from? What business did he do? Ben Bean concluded that life was full of questions and that he really didn’t like them very much. But what would life be like without them? Yep, there was another one.
He rung the O’Carie house doorbell, checked his shoes for mud, and then gave Claire a light kiss when she opened the door. There was only one problem to his action; it wasn’t Claire that he kissed. It was her mother. He heard Claire’s sweet laughter inside the house, “you are carefree today aren’t you?”
There was no response to that question. Ben leaned on one foot then the other. He rubbed his hands together. Her house was so clean. It always was. He moved carefully forward after removing his shoes and planted a light kiss upon Claire’s forehead. Her mom laughed behind his back.
“Come on,” She said. “Is that any way to treat my nineteen year old daughter, considering the gift you just gave her?”
“What?”
“Silly.” Claire said, handing him a small white box and a folded note.
He read the note to himself quickly. It read: this is your birthday present, my love. Do not open until I get there.
At that instant Ben remembered. He saw the popcorn can on the floor. It was decorated and he recognized his own humor in the form of sheep with fiddles. That must be the amusing box she had talked about. He dropped to one knee before Claire. He opened the box, held out the ring, and asked; “Claire O’Carie, will you marry me?”
“No, I won’t. It is too early, Ben. Be patient, my love.” Claire knelt down and kissed Ben passionately. Her mother stood behind them in complete shock. The look on her face was very amusing.