Page 42 of From Ice to Home
“And I mean them,” I tell him, my voice hardening with conviction.
He lets out a slow breath, his eyes lowering for a moment as if searching for wisdom in silence. When he looks up again there’s a mixture of weariness and understanding on his face.
“It’s not easy to make a commitment like this, especially under these circumstances,” he says, shoving his hands in his pockets. “It takes work, sacrifice. Patience. Prayer.”
Stepping closer, I urge him to see the sincerity in my eyes. “For what it’s worth, sir, I never wanted to be apart from Hannah. I’ve always seen myself being with her forever.”
Silence settles between us once again. He studies me for along moment, his expression unreadable. Then, with a sudden movement, he steps forward and for a brief second, I brace myself, unsure of what to expect. His hands land firmly on my shoulders and before I know it, he pulls me into a tight hug, clapping me hard on the back. The force of it knocks the breath from me, but I stay still, startled by the unexpected gesture.
“It’s worth something, son, it is. In a way it’s comforting knowing that she chose you as a husband,” he says, his voice gruff. “You’ve always been part of this family and this makes it official.” When he pulls back, his hands linger on my shoulders, his eyes locking onto mine. “But you’ll have to forgive a father for wanting something different for his little girl…something easier.”
“I understand,” I reply, softly. “And for that I’m sorry, sir.”
Relief settles inside of me, knowing that he considers me family. He might be disappointed, but he’s not against the idea of our relationship.
None of this is going to be easy. We’re jumping into this head first, forcing our worlds to collide instead of giving it the time to come together gracefully.
He nods, his expression softening as he takes a step back. “We’ll just have to move forward. There’s no other way.”
I nod, releasing a heavy breath the tension eases and I can’t help but wonder if it’s all over with now. My gaze moves to the window, where it’s clear the sun is already starting to set. Pastor Mark also notices before turning back to me.
“I’m sure you’ve got a few things to do before you have to leave tomorrow. But before you go, let me say this…” He steps forward again, extending his hand. When I take it, his grip is firm and steady. “Welcome to the family. You are in my prayers. You and Hannah both.”
“Thank you, sir.” My voice is tight with gratitude toward this man. Things could’ve gone so much worse—the Lordknows I deserve it. But still, he’s standing here, welcoming me and keeping me in his prayers.
“I guess you should call me Mark,” he says with a faint smile. “Or Dad. You married my daughter, after all.”
The words hit me harder than I expected, settling in my chest like an anchor. The full meaning of being married hasn’t quite settled in and now with this conversation with Pastor Mark I’m very aware of everything that’s going to change moving forward.
“It’ll be something to get used to…Mark,” I try, his name feeling strange spoken so directly. My discomfort must be written all over my face because Pastor Mark lets out a deep hearty laugh.
“That first one goes down rough, doesn’t it,” he says with a smile in his voice. “You’re off to a good start. My first time with Kate’s dad was worse than this.” He claps me on the shoulder, his tone lightening even more. “Now, go talk to your family. And after that, come back and have dinner with us. We can figure out the rest together.”
10
HANNAH
“You’re married, Hannah?” my mom says, tears filling her eyes as she looks at me.
The sight of the hurt in her expression has my own tears burning in my eyes. Shame and guilt floods me as I look down, unable to face the way I’ve hurt my family.
After I spoke to Lucas, he immediately went to talk to Dad while I came back home to tell my mom the truth about what happened. Now, we’re sitting in the kitchen, the tea she started making untouched as she covers her mouth with her teatowel, trying to hide the grief that’s clearly etched into her features.
“I know it’s sudden…” I begin, not knowing what to say. I don’t think there are words to take away what I’ve done. The only thing I can do is explain and hope that God will bring healing to all of us. “It wasn’t planned, Mom. It just happened. I know that sounds impossible and…not like me. But that's what happened. I don’t know how else to explain it.”
She sniffs before turning away from me, reaching for the box of tissues on the counter. The distance between us feels enormous right now and it’s horrible. I’ve always felt closest to my mom, and the way I’ve hurt her seems unforgivable.
“I want you to know that I’m happy for you,” she says, her voice thick with unshed tears, her back still facing me. She takes a deep breath, the kind that makes you think it’s all that’s holding her together right now. “If Lucas is the man you love and the man you chose to spend your life with, then I’m happy for you, Hannah.” Her voice wavers, as more tears threaten to take over. “I just wish… I would have really loved to be there on the day of your wedding.”
I don’t even know how to respond. Of course she would have wanted to be there with me the day I got married. That’s the way I always imagined it to be, with my mom helping me get ready, her gentle hands fixing my hair or adjusting my veil. My little sister would be my maid of honor, clutching my flowers while telling us to hurry up. But somehow my dream wedding flew out the window when I was faced with the choice of marrying Lucas, or losing him again.
Her words echo through my mind.‘If he’s the man you love…’
I wouldn’t have walked into that chapel with him if I didn’t want to be married to him, if I didn’t long for having him back in my life. But hearing someone else give voice to the emotions in my heart feels strange. I haven’t said it out loud, I haven’t even told Lucas how I really feel about him—how I’ve always felt about him.
“I never meant to hurt you, Mom. Not you or Dad. I don’t know how to explain my decisions. I’ve spent the entire week going over every detail in my mind, about how that night went and how we ended up in that chapel.” I take a seat at the kitchen table, looking down at my hands, my gaze landing on my empty ring finger. “It’s like the Hannah I’ve always been wasn’t the one steering the ship that night.”
My mom turns back toward me, wiping at her eyes with her tissue, sniffing and gathering herself. She walks toward the kettle to finish the tea in silence. The rhythmic clink of the teaspoon against the cup is the only sound filling the kitchen.
