You guys are gonna be SHOCKED by the ending. And don’t try to tell me you were expecting it, because you were NOT.
When I woke up, it appeared that Sylvia and Annie had not moved the entire night. They were still staring at me in awe.
Then I got dressed in a beautiful white gown and twisted my hair into loose curls.
I was walking to the kitchen for my birthday breakfast when Mother ran into me in the halls.
“Happy fifteenth birthday, Rosilia,” Mother said.
“Thank you, Mother!”
After a moment, Mother sighed, “Really, Rosilia? Does it have to be sleeveless?”
“Well, if you don’t want me to wear it, then why was it in my closet?”
Mother bit her lip and replied, “Henry wanted you to wear it.”
“Oh.” And then somebody knocked on the front door.
“Will you get that, Rosilia?” Mother asked as she hurried away down the hall.
I opened the door to find Ben Woods. “Happy birthday, Rosilia,” he said.
“Hello, Ben. Please come inside,” I said politely.
We stood in awkward silence for a few minutes.
Finally Ben remarked, “It’s a beautiful day.”
“It is,” I agreed
I stepped outside and Ben followed me.
We strolled towards the courtyard and talked a bit.
“So, do you feel any different? You know, being a year older and all,” Ben asked.
“No, not really,” I answered. “Birthdays used to be fun, but now their just . . . eh.”
He glanced at the pasture and saw Cloud Shimmer loping around it. She had a smooth gait, almost like she was flying. “Is that your horse?”
I nodded proudly.
Then he asked me why I wasn’t riding her right now, flying away over the hills. So I told him about how I had been riding like a man — and getting away with it, too — and then that little pain Sylvia.
We were both laughing by the time we reached the courtyard and sat down.
Suddenly, he got down on a knee and took a small black box from his back-pocket.
I instantly stopped laughing when he flicked the lid up.
“Rosilia Knight, will you marry me?”
I stared into his eyes. Did that really just happen?
It took all my willpower to say that one little word.
“No?” he repeated. He looked devastated, crushed.
“I can’t marry you, Ben!” I cried. “I’m only fifteen. And I don’t want to have to cook and clean all day, when I could be riding like a man, being a rebel!”
He took my hand. “That’s why I love you. And you don’t have to marry me now. Just remember, I’ll always be waiting. You are the only person I’ll ever love.”
And then we kissed.
My grandmother used to say that there was a moral to every story, real or made-up. My father’s, I guess, is that love lives on forever. And mine . . . well, I truly don’t know. The story of Rosilia Knight has not ended yet, but I’m sure that it will end with these few words:
And they lived happily ever after.