Page 64 of Her Healing Touch

There had been a lot of testing and growth and uncomfortable territory as Jason and Hannah stuck with their relationship. Each kiss was better than the last, and eventually, Jason forgot that kissing her had ever brought him any sense of pain.

In the fall, Hannah accepted a full-time teaching position, working hard Monday through Thursday, and then working in the office on Friday to help Jason with whatever he needed. Night classes were going swimmingly, and even though she’d already been offered the job, she wanted things to be more official with her teaching license.

Jason was also thriving. After breaking through so many touch barriers, he felt on top of the world. Lessons and even therapy were going well, and for the first time, he was finally working through issues he had suppressed for years.

It seemed bearable, and he was constantly challenging himself to push past his fears and aversions. Hannah knew, of course, that his sensitivity to touch would never permanently go away, but he had told her that he was growing more and more confident that he could live like any other person—all thanks to her.

The three hours of assisting Hannah at the blood drive went quickly, and even though it was fun to meet all of Hannah’s admiring, tiny friends, Jason was more than grateful when it was time to pack everything in the trunk of her car.

Just as he turned back to get the last of the paint, he saw Hannah balancing too much in her hands. “Hang on,” he called, but it was too late. She hit an uneven part of the sidewalk, tripped, and came toppling forward. Orange paint ran down the front of his... garbage bag.

She looked up from the pavement, orange paint all over herself as well. “I guess you called that.” She pulled her drenched shirt away from herself. “What a mess.”

He grinned, despite being soaked with paint. After all, the garbage bag only covered so much. But this was it, the moment he had been waiting for. They had come full circle. Carefully, he stuck his hand into his pocket and pulled out the ring he’d been carrying around for a few weeks.

She gasped as she saw what was in his hand. “That was fast. We just talked about it this morning.”

“There’s no box,” he said, “since having a ring box in my pocket was a little obvious—and also annoying. But just forget that part.”

He held it out to her. “It’s been a year that we’ve known each other, and I have to say, it’s been the worst and best year of my life.” The ring shook in his hand, but he pressed on. “We’ve had time apart, and it was the loneliest I’ve ever felt, even worse than those awful years in grade school, feeling like the world—including my own family—was against me. You’ve been the safest person I’ve ever known. Okay, I know that’s not the most romantic thing to say, but you make me feel safe. Not only that, you make me want to be better, and you fill me with hope. Will you marry me and stay by my side forever?”

“Oh, Jason.” Her eyes blurred with tears. “Of course I’ll marry you.” Hannah stood up, and he forced himself to not flinch as she stepped closer and she allowed him to slip the ring onto her finger.

He cradled her cheeks and then pressed a tender kiss to her lips, loving the tingling feeling her skin made against his. He had found her healing touch, and every day he would show her how much she meant to him.

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