"You're such a romantic. You'll be the best father and will tell them amazing stories." The picture in front of her emblazoned in her mind, she began to sketch. Her hand moved swiftly over the paper as she penciled in the rough outlines. The rocks and cliffs. The edges of the foamy water.
His hand came up and brushed a few stray hairs behind her ear. "Yes." He chuckled. "I will tell them amazing stories, and you will teach them to draw amazing sketches and paintings. I love to watch you create. You are a true artiste."
"God is my inspiration. He's the best artist I know. I simply do my best to capture His creation."
"You tell a story with each picture. I love that. One day I will be able to buy you all the art supplies you need. Your art needs to be seen. Your heart is behind it."
"You bless me with your words, Luke. Thank you for believing in me. You know they say a picture is worth a thousand words—maybe they will be able to know even more of our story by seeing these sketches."
He wrapped his arm around her shoulder. "Our story. I like the sound of that. I will write it in French, and you will capture it in your beautiful drawings. Our. Story."
"It does have a nice ring to it, doesn't it?" Margo let out a long sigh. Could she be any happier than at this very moment? "You have such a way with words, Luke. I love seeing the pages you write and love hearing you read them to me. Although I can't read it myself yet, it's beautiful and something I know our children will love."
"Our children. That is something I love to hear. We will pray for the Lord to bless us with many children."
His words made her blush again. "I think I will title this picture 'Beginning.' How do you say that in French?"
"Debut," she repeated. "I like it." As she worked on the sketch and then filled it in with color, the celebration began to quiet down. It was the perfect ending to a perfect day. The first day of the rest of their lives.
March 1, 1933
The dive suit was bulky and heavy, but as they placed the large, round metal helmet over his head and began to latch him in, Luke was thankful for the protection. The sea was turbulent. Currents from the Pacific pushed into the strait while the San Francisco Bay, with all its freshwater streams and rivers dumping into it, pushed back in a violent tug-of-war. Four times a day they had a scant twenty-minute window to dive when the tides were just right.
The only way the Golden Gate Bridge would get built was if they were able to build the south tower. But that meant they had a lot of underwater construction to do.
Stewart tapped Luke's helmet, and Luke gave him a thumbs-up signal. The hose that provided his air from the surface clicked into place. It was almost time for him to go. He stepped up onto the metal plate on the large steel swing that would lower him into the water.
Thoughts of Margo swirled in his mind. She'd said yes! The weight of the past few years and all its dark and depressing circumstances were washed away with the simple thought of her. How blessed he was to have her love and devotion.
He couldn't help but grin wide inside his dive suit. No matter what happened, he would always have Margo.
Another tap to his helmet drew his attention upward. The look on Stewart's face made Luke chuckle. Since he'd told the other guys this morning about his proposal, he'd been teased incessantly about wiping the smile off his face. But he'd better focus now. The job demanded every bit of his attention.
After days of this work, he'd gotten used to the rhythm but not to how difficult it was to see underwater. Gratefulness for his sight flooded through him. Visual cues and reminders were a part of every aspect of life.
The strong current constantly swirled dark silt. Even with the lights on their suits, the murky water made him feel like he was blind most of the time. A couple of the men had not been able to handle the conditions and asked to work elsewhere. But Luke was determined to do his best. Whether he could see or not. The job needed to be done.
A bell dinged. Time to go under.