We stayed for three easy, plump, rosy months. We set ourselves a schedule and a departure date, and we bartered with the farmspeople for maps and journey supplies. My group had made new friends there, but they were, to an extent, unchildlike children, and they appreciated the friendships in full while we stayed, and intended to meet again, but they also knew there would be a definite time to leave, and that no one's future was assured.

On the penultimate day of our stay, the elder adults called me to a meeting. I expected them to give good tidings and some parting advice, and in preparation for this, I brought our thank-you gift - some Argentinean gold. They lived well from their farm produce, but there was not enough profit for new land or extra generators.

I presented our kind benefactors with our gift. They were humble and grateful, but it was not their order of business. Sam Lovine, one of the original farm-owners, asked me to take a seat. He got straight to the point. "One of our own has a wish to marry you and be your wife. We will be sad not having her in our everyday lives anymore, but we will not be sad that she is in your troupe's company. She will see the world. She will be in good hands. And she cares for you and your troupe greatly. We might be safer than some here, but living itself is a risk. Tragedy could strike here just as it could anywhere else in the world. What will you say to this request?"

I was glad that I was seated. My brain had gone to mush. "Where is Jane," said Sam, and his wife Annie fetched her from the accompanying room. She was embarrassed and smiling. "She is a good person," said Annie. "And she won't have the opportunity of leaving here by herself. Will you have her?"

I knew that the farmspeople were neither cruel nor pranksters. I stood near enough to Jane that she would have to have eye contact with me.
"Is this true?" I asked. "You'd like to travel with us to Europe?"
Her lips were dry, and she said yes. I had never experienced anything like this in my life. Then again - I may be lying - who am I to say what's strange and what's not? A young English lady asking her elders, on a farm on the UK's coast, to marry a Hispanic female who travels with a mismatched family of foreigners, gathered from multiple nations. Who is to say what's strange, if anything, anymore. My head's innards blurred. "If you are serious, I'll marry you," I said, attempting to gauge her mood and intentions. "I'm serious," she said.

Her father, James Linden, held her hand. He was a grand man, pleased, and melancholy. I was slow to realize that my sideways offer had triggered a ceremony. James placed his daughter's hand in mine. Sam proceeded to ask us, in turn, if we vowed to care for each other, love each other, be thankful for the good times and earnestly work hard to get through the bad times. He added that marriages are very hard work, that we both will change, and we might transform from friends to lovers to acquaintances many times in the course of things, but that our vows were to stay together, and he asked us if we understood these vows and if we would uphold then. We said yes, and signed documents in triplicate. We each had a copy to keep with us.

James shook my hand, congratulatory and sincere. All those present then shook my hand, gave me advice, and told me that we would be good for each other. I was still as dopey as when Sam had first spoken. I let go of Jane's hand. "I want to tell my family," I said. She held my arm and kissed my mouth with the kind of pressure that makes a person lose balance and step backwards.

I paged my family to meet immediately in the guest quarters.
"Do any of you know Jane Linden, with the brown hair?" I asked.
Two of the teens twittered, and young Sarah breathed, "Woooo!" rather quietly. Otherwise, there were some nods and some head-shakings.
"She asked me to marry her," I said, "and if it's OK, she'll be coming with us."
Some were excited, some were curious. They questioned:
"What is she like?" "Will she sleep in your bed?" "Will you have babies?" "Don't be silly, they can't have babies!" "Will you kiss her?" "Will her family come too?" "Are you being funny times with us?" "Who is she?" "Is she nice?" "Does she like checkers?" "When do we see her?" "Are we still leaving tomorrow?" "Is she a good fighter?"

I answered their questions as best I could, and then asked Sarah and the two teens if there was something they wanted to say. Sarah answered for them.
"We know Jane she told us ages ago she told us not to tell we were making biscuits in the kitchen they had berries I like her."
I remembered Sarah being excited by berry baking some time past. I feared my brain circuits were going to malfunction. "Ah, oh," I said.