Marriage with Melinda

Melinda believed that Travis was just skittish about whether they could make a marriage last, whether such an uncommon union could prevail throughout the decades. She believed it could. She believed love would keep them together.

One night, after a lengthy lovemaking session, as Travis slept, Melinda quietly measured the finger on his left hand.

—

In mid-October, as they walked through Central Park, Melinda pulled Travis aside.

“I have to ask you something.”

Travis was stunned by her radiance. Her red hair perfectly complemented the fall leaves, her ivory skin a beautiful contrast to her dark blue jacket and sweater.

Melinda was nervous. She didn’t want to stammer in front of this gorgeous black man. She touched the sleeve of his blue coat, looked at his beautiful face, and took a deep breath.

“Travis…”

“Yes…”

“You know that I love you, and…”

She stopped in nervous hesitation, then gripped his forearm. Travis was stunned by the sight of her pale knuckles clenched to his limb.

“Travis, you don’t know this, but I thank God every day that he brought me to America to meet you!”