It had been about a month ago when he had been goaded into a bet.
And he had lost.
The bet had been rather simple.
"Whoever catches George the monkey gets to have three wishes granted by the loser."
The monkey had frequented his cottage so often that she had named him. A day never passed without her having a verbal—and sometimes physical—battle with George, who was always either trying to steal food or uproot plants from her farm.
Its last visit had been the final straw.
Zuri had offered to finally build the structure in the market square that Lord Naman had long been putting off, much to Damaris's excitement.
It was to be an open place where the villagers could gather for their night tales. Just eight wooden pillars and a thatched roof. Small wooden benches were to be made as well.
The work took from morning untill early evening to complete the structure. They decided to leave the bench-making for the next day, so they both headed home.
Only to arrive at Zuri's cottage and find that half of Zuri's garden had been uprooted, and her farm was in the same state.
And the culprit—
George the monkey—
stood in the middle of Damaris' farm with a smirk upon its face as though well-pleased with its handiwork. Before they could act, it fled.
Damaris had been vexed, for they were already tired from the day's work, yet they had to begin salvaging what they could find and replanting what remained.
As she replanted the last stalk, eyes red from fatigue, she looked up at Zuri and said, "What do you say we kill that monkey?"
***
"Why do I have to do this in this scorching sun?" Zuri muttered beneath his breath as he bound the rye into sheaves.
The woven hat upon his head was not enough to shield him from the sun's rays. The heat had caused him to take off his shirt but it made little difference. Sweat dripped from every part of him.
From the crown of his head to the soles of his feet.
If only he had not agreed to the bet.
It was at times like this that he missed Zuriel.
Zuriel Hezron would never be caught dead in a situation such as this.
"Is the work too much for My Lord Gardener?" she called from where she sat tying together her own portion. The farmers laughed at her teasing words. Zuri's response was a harmless glare.
"Look at all that sweat," she gasped. "Do you need me to wipe it off for you, My Lord?" she continued her teasing.
"Careful not to tease him too much, Damaris," the woman sitting beside her said. "You might get bitten."
"Oh, do not fret, Miranda. No way the gracious Lord Gardener would get riled up over a few words from a poor, harmless woman."
"Poor? Harmless?" he finally spoke.
"Aye." she nodded, and he scoffed.
"Who was it who counseled me so sternly not to fall for Damaris, for she was most injurious to my very well-being?" he questioned. Her eyes instantly popped, and her caramel skin flushed a mild red as all hands stopped binding and all heads turned toward her.
"What? Who said that?" a farmer asked as he brought more rye to be bound.
His question was answered by the mere tilt of Zuri's head toward the culprit.
"Damaris?" the man asked, amazed. They needed no one to explain further. The embarrassment was written all over her face, and it caused everyone to burst into laughter.
"On our very first encounter," Zuri added, fueling their laughter.
"Why would you say that here?" she hissed.
"Why? Are you suddenly embarrassed?" he teased.
"You—" She held back her words, snatched one of her sandals, and flung it at him.
He ducked and scoffed. "And she says she's harmless." He pointed accusingly. "If you are harmless, then George must be a saint." The entire farm erupted in loud laughter, this round far louder and more uncontrollable than the last, for everyone knew George and the trouble he caused.
"Did you just compare me to a monkey?" she bolted upright, causing her wooden seat to fall back.
He shrugged with that smirk that always reminded her of the damned monkey he had compared her to.
"I did tell you he would bite," Miranda laughed heartily as she watched their exchange.
"Why are you taking his side?" she queried, and it only made them all laugh.
"Be rational, Damaris, no one is taking sides," Zuri said. And she would have let it die if he had not gone on to add—
"Well, even George can be irrational sometimes."
And that was the last straw for Damaris.
She charged at him like a wildcat.
"Stay back, you ferocious beast!" Zuri rose from his seat, throwing stalks of rye at her as he retreated from her furious grasp.
"Just wait until I lay my hands on you," she bellowed. He was not even trying very hard to run. He seemed to glide and slip out of her way, yet he was so hard to catch.
The people watched with wide grins upon their faces as the duo who had come to help with the harvest proved to be most helpful—whether by binding rye or by causing laughter.
"What do they think they are doing on this sacred farm?" Hagar, who had come to deliver food for her husband, wondered, shaking her head.
"Why? We were once like them, disguising flirting as fights." Her husband whispered, loud enough for those nearby to hear, causing his middle-aged wife to flush.
"You all make things too complicated." Miranda clicked her tongue. "He should just grab her and kiss her! Marry and have lots of babes. That was how it was for me and my Will," she said bluntly, while they all stared at the duo who had wandered far away from them.
"Anyway, I think we might be holding a wedding come fall this year," one of the farmers said.
"Fall? I say by summer—mid-summer at most," another said.
"Shall we place a bet, then?" Hagar's husband, Jerome, said.
"Shall we?" another said mischievously.
And so, just as Damaris missed a step and crashed into Zuri, sending them both to the ground, a bet was placed over their heads.
Both their hats now laid far away from their heads while her heart pounded hard against her chest and her hot breath tickled his face. With no words passing between them, Zuri stared at the woman who lay atop of him.
With both hands secured around her waist and hers resting upon his shoulders, he held her close.
And for a moment, even the wind that flowed through the dry rye seemed to still.
Damaris gazed into those gray eyes and was so tempted to touch that her fingers twitched upon his shoulder.
Beautiful.
She thought.
Only when she saw that familiar smirk rise to his face did she realize, Ah, I must have said that out loud.
Immediately, she tried to release herself from his hold, but it was firm.
Unyielding.
"Perhaps," he purred, "I should have given you counsel as well on the night we met."
Realizing it was fruitless to struggle against his hold, she relented and instead mirrored the smirk upon his face as she asked, "Really? And what might have been your counsel, oh wise one?"
His hand at the small of her back gently moved up her spine, and Damari's expression faltered as his fingers grazed her bare neck, sending a ticklish shiver through her body…
"I should have said, do not fall for this mysterious stranger standing naked in a lake…"
"Why?" The word left her lips, barely a whisper.
"Because it is impossible to rise back up."
The wind—
was flowing again.
Slow, gentle…
Along with the warmth of his body, it caused her lids to grow heavy, and so they fell over her eyes.
And in her heart, she knew… she awaited something.
And something came.
"Damaris! Why are you lying atop Zuri?" a tiny voice echoed into her ears, causing her eyes to open in time to see a teasing expression upon his face.
What was I waiting for! Damaris cried in her head as she turned to the little girl who stood beside them.
Quickly, she released herself from his hold, and he let her. She rose to her feet, dusting her skirt and clearing her throat, glancing about like a sinner.
"I was not lying atop him, Mabel. We simply fell," she said as she took the girl's hand and fled.
With a grin upon his face, Zuri rose to his feet, picked up their hats and followed behind them, delighting in how the child went on to tell the farmers what she had seen while Damaris struggled to explain that the child was mistaken.
It was a beautiful spring afternoon, and while they worked hard on the farm, a letter had arrived in Wisteria.
For Zuriel Hezron.