Isobel stood in her brightly decorated classroom, the walls adorned with colorful posters and students' artwork from previous years. The early morning sun streamed through the large windows, casting a warm glow across the room. She greeted each child with a cheerful smile as they bounced in, backpacks bouncing on their shoulders, faces alight with excitement and stories about their summer adventures.
"Good morning, Mrs. Wright!" called out a freckled boy, holding up a shiny new toy truck. "Look what I got this summer!"
"That's wonderful, Jeremy!" Isobel replied, her eyes twinkling. "You'll have to tell me all about it later."
As the final bell rang, Isobel clapped her hands to get the students' attention. "Alright, everyone, today we're going to start with something fun. We're going to work with watercolors!"
A collective cheer rose from the class. Watercolor day was a favorite. Isobel smiled at their enthusiasm. "I want each of you to paint an image that represents your summer. It can be anything—a place you visited, a new friend you made, your favorite summer treat. Let your imagination run wild!"
The children eagerly sprang into action, gathering their supplies from the cabinet. Paints and brushes in hand, they returned to their seats, the room buzzing with creativity. Isobel moved gracefully among the tables, offering words of encouragement and admiration for their budding masterpieces.
The day was a whirlwind of activity, each grade bringing its own unique energy. First graders giggled as they painted, their small hands creating colorful, if somewhat chaotic, works of art. Fourth and sixth graders showed impressive skill and creativity, while the seventh graders, though initially aloof, eventually immersed themselves in their projects. Her high school class, a mix of awkward teens and blossoming artists, ended the day on a high note, their more complex pieces reflecting the depth of their experiences.
As the final bell signaled the end of the school day, Isobel knelt on the floor, cleaning up a puddle of spilled paint water. The scent of fresh paint and the hum of lingering chatter filled the air. A knock at the door pulled her attention. Standing there, leaning casually against the frame, was Ryder, holding a vibrant bouquet of pink lilies and white daisies.
"Hello, Miss Wright," he greeted, his grin as charming as ever.
"Hi, Ryder," Isobel responded, tossing the wet towels into the trash. She walked over to him, her heart skipping a beat at the sight of the flowers. "For the most beautiful teacher here," Ryder said, extending the bouquet.
Isobel took the flowers, inhaling their sweet fragrance. "Thank you, Ryder. They're beautiful."
"Do you have plans right now?"
"No, not really. Did you have something in mind?"
"I do."
"Okay."
"I'd like to show you something."
"Alright, give me just a moment."
Isobel found an empty can, filled it with water, and placed the flowers in it, setting it prominently on her desk. "I'll keep them here. My students will love them and ask me all day who they're from," she said with a smile.
Ryder took her hand, leading her through the now quiet halls of the school. They passed a few lingering students fetching backpacks from their lockers and several teachers busy in their rooms preparing for the next day.
Once in the parking lot, Ryder walked Isobel to her little blue Honda Accord. "Do you want to drive home and I'll follow you, or would you like to drive your car to my place?"
"Where is this thing you want to show me?"
"The ranch."
"I'll drive there. I need to stop at the store on my way home."
"Okay," Ryder leaned down and kissed her. "I'll see you there."
Isobel followed Ryder to his place, parking her car next to his truck in front of the barn. When she stepped out, Ryder was already waiting, leaning against his truck.
"Hop in," he invited, opening the door for her.
Isobel climbed into the truck, sliding over to sit close to Ryder. He put the truck in gear and drove down the path leading to the back pastures, the landscape rolling out in green waves under the setting sun.
"Where are we going?" Isobel asked, her curiosity piqued.
"I want to show you something I've been working on, and I need your input on what else you'd like done."
They drove into an open pasture, the old barn standing tall at the other end. Tools, saw horses, and stacks of boards were scattered around the entrance, signs of recent activity.
"I've been spending some time out here the past couple of days, looking the barn over," Ryder explained as he parked the truck. "There are a few structural things that need to be taken care of, and I'm going to put in a new floor. But anything else you want done to get it ready for our wedding, just let me know, and I'll make sure it gets done."
Isobel turned to Ryder, her face lighting up with a radiant smile. She hugged him tightly, planting a quick kiss on his lips. "I love you so much."
Ryder wrapped his arms around her, returning her kiss with equal passion. "I love you too." He took her hand and led her into the barn, their future unfolding before them in the warm, dusky light.
Ryder and Isobel wandered through the cavernous barn, their footsteps echoing on the weathered wooden floorboards. The air was thick with the scent of hay and aged timber, a nostalgic aroma that brought a sense of peace. Ryder pointed out the areas that needed attention—the rafters, some sagging precariously, and a gaping hole in one of the walls that allowed sunlight to stream through in golden beams. Here and there, new boards stood out against the old, signs of Ryder's ongoing repair work.
Isobel listened attentively as Ryder discussed potential fixes and enhancements. His enthusiasm was contagious, and she found herself envisioning their wedding day more vividly with each passing moment. They moved from one end of the barn to the other, imagining different setups for their special day. The dance floor would be laid down near the wide double doors, allowing guests to spill out into the open air. The food tables would be arranged along the longest wall, where the head table for the bridal party would take pride of place, and a smaller table for the cake, prominently displayed, would invite everyone's admiration.
"I'd really like to have the ceremony outside if we can," Isobel said as they stepped through the large, barn doors, the evening breeze rustling her hair.
Ryder, standing behind her, wrapped his strong arms around her waist, pulling her close. His breath was warm against her ear. "Anything you want," he murmured, his voice a comforting rumble. He kissed her cheek, and together they walked out into the open field in front of the barn, mapping out where the guests would sit and where they would stand to say their vows.
"I know you're busy..." Isobel hesitated, gazing across the expanse of grass dotted with wildflowers. She bit her lip, feeling a bit shy about her next request.
Ryder turned her gently to face him, concern knitting his brows. "What is it?"
Isobel sighed, looking down at the ground. "You have so much on your plate already. I don't want to add more."
"Hey," Ryder said softly, lifting her chin so she would look at him. "Tell me."
"I'd really love an arbor to be married under," she confessed, her eyes meeting his with a mixture of hope and uncertainty.
A smile spread across Ryder's face, his eyes twinkling with warmth. "Find me a photo of what you want, and I'll build it."
"No, Ryder," Isobel protested, shaking her head. "You have so much to do already. I can't ask you to take on more."
"Isobel," Ryder said firmly, pulling her into a tight embrace. "I'm not doing all these repairs myself. I'm planning on hiring out for a lot of it. I will have time to build you an arbor. Find me a photo—better yet, find me several photos—of what you want, and I'll make it happen."
Isobel felt a surge of love and gratitude. She rested her head against his chest, listening to the steady rhythm of his heartbeat. "Thank you, Ryder," she whispered.
Ryder lifted her chin with his thumb and forefinger, his gaze locking onto hers. He lowered his lips to hers, capturing her mouth in a tender, loving kiss. "Have you not figured out yet that I'll do anything for you?" he asked, his voice a hushed promise.
Isobel smiled against his lips. "I'm figuring that out," she replied, her heart swelling with affection and certainty.