Page 40 of From Ice to Home
“Sir, first I want you to know that this is not how I ever thought this conversation would go. But there is something that I need to tell you—something I need to own up to.”
His brows knit together, and he straightens slightly, his stance shifting.
“Should we maybe go inside for this?” Pastor Mark suggests, gesturing toward the door of his office behind him. “It looks like we need some privacy, and perhaps a chair.”
“That would be good, yes,” I let out, following him into his office.
The wood structure hasn’t changed much since I’ve last been here. It’s still filled with his giant desk on the one side and a comfy couch across from it. A small smile tugs at my mouth as my gaze falls on the pillows Hannah’s mom made from their favorite clothes. Being here makes me feel more like the small-town boy I used to be instead of the grown man who plays professional hockey I am right now.
Turning, I watch as Pastor Mark closes the door behind us, closing us off from the rest of the world.
I swallow. Somehow, this isn’t better.
On the walls are photos of the Sanders family. Photos where Pastor Mark is holding his two daughters, laughing with them while they’re covered in paint. Guilt floods my stomach as I’m faced with what I’ve done. Now, gazing at the man whohas been there for me so significantly in the past, it feels like I’ve stolen something from him. Like I’ve dishonored his family by dishonoring his daughter in the way I’ve handled things.
It’s not the way my parents raised me. I should’ve gone to him to ask for his blessing to marry his daughter, after we were together for an appropriate amount of time. We should’ve gotten married by him, in the church Hannah grew up in. Instead my impulsivity took over, my self-control was non-existent. I rushed something that should’ve taken time and bulldozed through it in less than nine hours.
God, it doesn’t feel like I deserve Your help, but I really need it.
He gestures for me to take a seat at the desk as he sits down in his chair, steepling his hands. He watches me carefully, his brown eyes cautious as he waits.
I take a deep breath, picking a safe place to start. “You know that Hannah and I were together in high school and that we were quite serious about each other.”
“Oh you were, were you? I thought you looked a bit like the boy who sat at my breakfast table for a few years.” His voice is laced with slight humor for which I’m thankful.
“Yes, sir.” I can’t help but smile, the situation feeling insane all of a sudden. “Anyway, to be completely honest with you, I kind of saw things going a certain direction. Even if we were just eighteen back then, I knew what we had and I knew what it could become if we gave it the necessary time. But I guess it didn’t work out that way.”
It was hard for me to come to terms with it back then. It was like Hannah ripped the rug from beneath my feet when she broke up with me. I could see how everything would play out between us, the future we could’ve had together, and then it all changed in a matter of minutes.
“No, it didn’t.” Pastor Mark sighs. “Lucas, I know you have a history with my daughter. We all saw how serious you two wereand to be honest, I was a bit relieved when you two ended things.”
His words strike a nerve and I shift uncomfortably in my seat. If he’s relieved that we broke up, he’s not going to like what I have to say.
Before I can say anything, he continues, “I didn’t want your relationship to pull you from the plans God had for you. When you’re that young, it’s easy to choose the easier path—all in the name of love of course. But I’ve been counselling married couples for a long time, and somehow it always goes back to old wounds and resentment. I didn’t want that for either of you.”
“I’m sorry, sir, I’m not sure I’m following,” I say with a frown.
“You’ve done well for yourself over the past five years.” He said it as a matter-of-fact statement, making me feel a little bit better about how he might perceive me as a husband for his daughter. “After school you pursued hockey. You’ve played for the Rangers for the past three years, right?”
“Four years sir, my contract ends next year. But I’ve been told there will be another offer on the table should I want it.” I can’t help but feel a sense of pride at what I’ve accomplished in my hockey career. I’ve worked hard, kept my head down, done the training and got to where I needed to be considered as one of the best. It’s not something I take lightly.
Pastor Mark smiles at me, almost like he’s proud of what I’ve achieved. “You worked hard to get where you are today. And I’m not entirely sure your hockey career would be where it is if you and Hannah stayed together, am I right?”
I sigh. He sounds like my dad right now, making it seem like Hannah was the deciding factor in my life. I would’ve stayed in Georgetown for Hannah, it would’ve been the easier decision. But it would also have been for my father and mybrother. Perhaps I just don’t want to admit how much she influences me and my decisions.
“You know the family farm is important to me. It’s been in our family for more than four generations. I’ve always pictured myself taking over from my father. But when things didn’t work out with Hannah...” I trail off, thinking how different my life could’ve been. Everyone’s life changed when Hannah made her decision five years ago—even Noah’s. Now, yet again, things are on the brink of changing. In more ways than I’ve even considered. “It doesn’t matter anymore. We are where we are today, despite our decisions back then. Things can change so quickly, and that’s why I’m here, sir.”
Pastor Mark frowns slightly, then nods, giving me room to say what I came here to say. “Last week, Hannah and I ran into each other.” I swallow. “In Las Vegas.”
My gaze stays on him, watching and reading every change in his demeanour. His posture stiffens slightly at my mention of Vegas. The tension between us suddenly grows thicker. Pastor Mark presses his steepled hands to his mouth, like he’s trying to keep himself from saying anything. His gaze pins me to my seat.
“Sir, like I said, back then I had a certain way I wanted to do things, a certain way I wanted to approach you when the time was right…” I trail off, not sure if this is helping in any way.
How on earth do you tell the man you’ve looked up to in so many ways that you married his daughter behind his back—a week ago—without telling anyone about it?
“Lucas, what are you trying to say?” Pastor Mark asks, leaning forward slightly.
“I’m not sure how to say this, so I’m just going to say it.” I take a deep breath, knowing there’s no way out of it. “We got married in Vegas.”
