Taking a deep breath,

she slowly opens her eyes, letting them glide across the freshly-papered walls and the welcoming openness of the empty room. Clapping her hands and clasping them together in sheer delight, her soft brown eyes sparkle in excitement and anticipation. Letting out a soft sigh of contentment, she strolls gracefully through the room, her stockinged feet quiet on the newly-polished floorboards, her dress swishing quietly as it brushes against the golden-lit wood behind her.
       "Oh... so many things I might do with this room! I think it shall be the sitting room, the sun should come in throughout the afternoon ---oh! My violets could live on the windowsill, just there, and that beautiful end table there... and perhaps we could get a small cabinet or shelves for a few knick-knacks and--- oh! And the china animals Mother gave us, and the crystal vase from Amy, and--- And some chairs around a low table there, and a chaise there by the window, where I might read of a warm afternoon, and oh, a bookcase! We ought to have a bookcase, just there, along the wall near the window, and certainly we might have some nice lace curtains? Of course there's not much money to spare yet on such things, but if we scrape and save a little, oh what a pretty room this might be!"
       A low chuckle sounds behind her, and she is soon enveloped in warm strong arms. She melts back into his embrace, happy and trusting, wrapping her slender arms around his, smiling at the whiteness of her own skin against the warmer tones of his. "Mmm... hello there."
       "Hello, my darling. Have you finished decorating our home so soon?"
       Eyes bright and laughing, she turns about in his arms, pressing soft cherry lips to his. "Almost, dearest. Only, I do need a few things..."
       His eyes widen and fill with mock-sorrow, his deep lips forming a pout. "Angel of my heart, you yet need more from me, when I would already lay down my life to fulfill even your slightest whim? When I have bound my soul to yours, and promised to do all within a man's power to provide for you and protect you, body and soul? When---"
       "Oh darling, darling!" she cries, flinging arms tightly around him, kissing him again and again, his lips and his cheeks, the bridge of his nose and the corners of his now-twinkling eyes. "Oh love, do smile again! Please don't ever look at me like that, even in jest, it tears my heart right from me to see sadness as that on your handsome face, oh, my love!"
       They are both laughing now, holding each other close, trembling slightly in the overwhelming rush of tenderness and giddy rapture and nervous excitement they both feel. The world is fresh and new to them, but such feeling is no cliché to either young heart; it feels as though they dance among thin clouds, which can become a solid ground to walk upon if they only wish it hard enough. Everything is open as possibility, everything is simply waiting for the two of them to mold into the lives they wish to have.
       "Hush now, my heart's dearest," he murmurs softly against her hair, holding her tight to his warm chest, as he rubs her shoulders gently. "I would not cause you pain such as that, you know I was merely looking so in play, but the littlest bit of sorrow on your pretty face, ah!" He clasps her more tightly still, leaning his head to press his cheek to hers. "I could never bear to bring you anything but the love and delight you are deserving of, my sweet. I shall do all that I can to ensure that heavenly smile is all that ever crosses such beautiful lips." He kisses her tenderly, and she melts close against him, soothed and feeling surrounded by caring, protective love.
       "Then, when we have a little money, do you think we might someday have lace curtains on the windows in here?" she asks demurely, shyly lifting her eyes to his, her voice soft and almost childlike in its simple request.
       He nods solemnly, stroking a hand over her soft chestnut hair, thinking of how lovely it feels when not swept up as it is throughout the day. "I promise you, my sweet Christine. You shall have your lace curtains. I want you to be able to get up our home as prettily as ever you may. I trust your eye for domestic things, and I know you will keep a house that any man might be proud to call his own."
       Her face flushed and beaming, she smiles warmly at her soon-to-be husband, putting a soft hand to his cheek, her fingers caressing his face with all the tenderness of youthful love. "I promise to do my very best to please you, my darling."
       Smiling in return, he kisses her forehead happily. "That is all I could ever hope for, and more than I could ever have dreamed."
       The touching mood is suddenly interrupted, by a loud rap on the doorframe and an amused chuckle. "Now. now, the lovebirds mustn't get ahead of themselves... shouldn't start populating the nursery before your things are moved in."
       She flushes brightly, he laughs and steps over to affectionately punch the shoulder of the newcomer. "Can't a fellow have a few minutes' privacy with a gorgeous thing like that, Carl?"
       "Not when he has a final meeting with the bank, Henry," he replies good-naturedly, his blue eyes warm with mirth and amiable sentiment. "Dear woman, I am afraid I must borrow this dishonorable shirker for a short while, but you have my word that I shall return him to you as soon as ever I may. Won't be able to stand his company even that long, I'm sure."
       "Hey, now!"
       "Now Carl, I do appreciate the wonderful help you have been to us both, but I simply won't have you insult my Henry in such a manner." her voice is exaggeratedly prim, and she speaks as though she is already mistress of the properties - as she will be quite soon. Yet a spark of mischief is in her eyes, as she gently pushes her fiancé toward the door to the room. "Out with you both! Insults and irresponsibility, my house is already tainted! I have much cleaning to do; you men will have to leave me space in which to work."
       Laughing, the men move to leave the room. Henry turns back for just a moment, and touches her hand gently with his own. Leaning over, he brushes his lips tenderly against her cheek, murmuring softly for her ears alone: "I love you." Aloud, he reassures her that he will return as soon as is possible, and the two men take their leave.
       She is again alone in the company of her plans and dreams, hopes and visions of a future she has long desired. Finding a small trunk on which to sit, she tucks her feet in beneath her long pale blue skirt, resting her arms on knees drawn in close and her chin in upturned palms. She lets her eyelids gently block her view of the room a long moment, then slowly, slowly, lifts them bit by bit, opening her eyes no more than halfway, leaving everything before them as a vague blur. From the time she was young, she has done thus. By not letting her eyes pin down just what lay within their view, she can more easily invent her own surroundings, building on both what is truly present and what she wishes to see. This halfway place between reality and imagination was a constant gift of both amusement and creativity as a child, and as she grew, it remained a source of comfort and help in visualizing various things. Though she now does it only when alone, it is a gift she has held on to into adulthood.
       She can not yet know, it is a gift her second child will have as well, a girl with wide eyes and a quiet voice, never quite certain of her place in the world, and so always and ever making her own worlds in which to exist. Her own mother will not quite understand just how far she removes herself, but will have a sympathy for the girl all the same.
       Her gaze fringed by delicate lashes, hazy and indistinct, her imagination fills the room as she would have it. Sunlight filters in through the windows, tangling laughingly in sheer lace curtains and falling onto the polished furniture and floor, the room colored warmly by golden light. Potted flowers line the windowsills, blooming soft whites and yellows and lavenders over rich green leaves. A lavishly-cushioned chaise sits beside the window, the warm light picking out the subtleties of pale scarlet fabric and the golden-brown grain of the wooden frame. To the other side of the window is a bookcase, narrow but tall, the shelves not yet full, enough room yet to allow the number of richly-hued and thick-paged books to continue growing as their lives progress. Along other walls, there is a small glass-fronted cabinet filled with trinkets of china, porcelain and glass, and a few sitting room chairs, comfortable and inviting. An ornately-carved table stands near the grouping of chairs, a bottle of fine wine resting upon a lace doily on the tabletop. The wooden floor shines with cleanliness, except where it is hidden beneath a soft deep rug, intricate patterns woven across it. The room is awash with tastefully muted color, open and inviting yet with the warmth of a definite sense of personality, home-like and amiable.
       A slight pain grips her hopeful heart - what if this life she has chosen does not work so well as she dreams? What if she could not keep up a room so well as the one she now envisions? What if money should run short, and they should have to leave, or some tragedy, a fire, forces them away from this longed-for home? What if there should be no young bodies to reprimand about climbing on the furniture, and tenderly cradle in her arms, and dandle on Henry's knee? What if Henry---
       She shakes her head violently, driving the images and forming tears away. "No, that won't come to be..." she murmurs softly, forcing a smile, which soon gentles into a true one. "I love him," she says simply, a warmth blossoming in her heart, gradually curling around it and forming a barrier to hold away any hurt, as she whispers: "And he loves me." Slowly she gets on to her feet, feeling the light brush of fabric against her legs and ankles, pressing her hands into her hips and arching her back a bit, stretching it after having sat still so long. Breathing deeply in and out, she lets her eyes linger around the walls which will not long be empty. Smoothing her dress, she glances at the window, her love-brightened eyes searching eagerly for the return of her soul's counterpart. No-one is yet visible on the street nearby, yet she knows he will not be any longer than absolutely necessary.
       Again, a fleeting moment of frozen panic - what if something should happen to him? A sudden fire at the bank, or a robbery, or some horrible accident that he does not---
       And again, she shakes her head to clear it. No, no... There are no reasons to believe such nonsense, he is assuredly quite safe. She must only be worrying so because more than ever, she knows how much she could not live without him, now, on the cusp of a shared life together.
       Patting down her hair, she regains a calm smile. "I ought to write a list of what each room will need, Henry would be quite pleased were he to find me so organized."
       And this time, she exits the room, shrugging off her fears again, in place of yearning hopes and dreams close-held. Finally, they should be happy together and their lives complete - what could stand to bar their way?