Stay With Me (30 page)

Would it be too much if he got down on his knees?
He thought about how he had treated her, whipping the blanket at her and
storming out like a petulant child. No, it might not be enough. The knot in his
gut tightened. He’d be lucky if she heard him out, let alone forgave him.

He held onto her hands again and shifted onto his
knees in front of her before he began a litany of
mea culpas
he had
rehearsed on the way there.

“I’m sorry I had too much to drink. I’m sorry I
asked you to come get me. I’m sorry all I could think of when I saw you was,
well, what we ended up doing. I’m sorry I didn’t just put out a towel for you
like you asked. I’m sorry I got into the shower with you. I’m sorry that at the
half dozen or so chances I had to stop that I didn’t. I’m sorry that I was so
curt with you when it was over. I’m sorry I walked out on you when you begged
me to stay. I’m sorry I didn’t answer your calls. I’m sorry I didn’t listen to
your messages. I’m sorry for being so selfish—I didn’t even think about how you
felt.” He stopped and took a breath, giving her a sad smile. “I’m sorry this
will detract from our wedding night. I’m sorry we’re going to carry the
consequences of this with us into marriage.” He realized this last one was the
biggie. The one that undermined everything they had built their relationship
on. “I’m sorry I betrayed your trust. Please forgive me.”

Her chest rose and fell with a deep breath. She
shut her eyes for a second and reopened them. “I do.”

An invisible load lifted from his shoulders. She
forgave him. It was more than he deserved.

“Now it’s my turn. I’m sorry I didn’t change my
clothes before I came to get you. I’m sorry I didn’t get my own darn towel. I’m
sorry I didn’t stop things.”

“That’s it? Your list is a whole lot shorter than
mine.” He smiled, and at last she smiled back.

She squeezed his hands tightly and tugged them,
helping to pull him up off of his knees and back into a sitting position.
“Chris, it’s not like we’re the first couple who have ever given in to
temptation. After you left, I looked at my chart, and I think I know what was
going on.”

Her chart? What did that have to do with anything?
“What do you mean?”

“I know I’m still kind of new to the charting, but
I think I was ovulating, which would explain why my libido was in overdrive and
probably why yours was, too. Add that to the fact the beer impaired your
judgment, Lady Godiva impaired mine, and I sashayed around here in Spandex. It
was a recipe for—well, I hate to call it a disaster. Makes sense though,
doesn’t it?”

Chris raked his hand through his hair. “It does.
But if you were ovulating, then…”

“I could be pregnant. It’s a possibility. We’ll
know in a couple of weeks.”

He leaned back, rubbed his palms up and down his
thighs, and shook his head. “I never thought I’d get myself in this position.
Worrying about a pregnancy.”

Compassion filled her eyes. “It’s only a few weeks
until the wedding. Everyone would think it was a honeymoon baby.”

He nodded his head, but he couldn’t speak. He knew
they would love and cherish any and every child they conceived no matter the
circumstances, but this was not how he wanted it to happen. He took a deep
breath and let it out slowly, trying to ignore the new ache in his chest.
Nothing could be done about it now.

“Are you going to be okay here tonight? I have to
take care of some things today and run into work, but I can come back and stay
if you want. On the couch.”

“I’m fine. It was just Saturday night. It felt
like…” She looked down and bit her lip.

“Rebecca?” He had hurt her so much. He had been so
wrapped up in his own shame that he’d been oblivious to the pain he’d
inflicted.

“It felt like a one-night stand when you left. Like
you got what you were after, and you were done with me. That’s why I needed you
to stay.”

Unbelievable. “Rebecca,” he said as he smoothed her
hair with his hand. “How could you think that?”

“I know. It’s not what I thought. It’s what I felt.
And without you here to contradict it…it…it just hurt is all.”

“I should have looked at it from your point of
view. I’m sorry. I was so disappointed in myself—so angry with myself. I mean,
we wait twenty-four years or whatever and then three weeks before the wedding?
Really? I couldn’t stand being in my own skin, and I had to get out. But
believe me, please, when I tell you that when we made love, the only thought in
my mind was that I love you. I guess by definition we used each other, but that
was not my intention at all. I swear. I love you, and I was sorely misguided,
but I wanted to give myself to you and be one with you because I love you so
much.”

“I know. I do believe you. It’s all you kept saying
the whole time. You must’ve said it, like, a dozen times.”

Chris moved next to her on the couch and pulled her
against him so that she could lay her head against his chest.

“I want you to know I can’t wait to be your husband
and not just because of the sex, but because I truly love you, and I want to
spend my life with you.”

He loved the feel of her hand rubbing circles on
his chest. When she stopped he looked down at her, and she smiled. “Our
honeymoon is going to be a lot of fun, isn’t it?”

“Mmmm…I think so. To say I’m looking forward to it
would be a gross understatement.” He enjoyed the feel and scent of her hair
under his chin. “You know, morality aside, if you had asked me before Saturday,
I would have thought that, uh, what we did would take the edge off. Sort of
like a snack before dinner.”

Rebecca amazed him by finishing his thought. “But
it was more like an appetizer. The kind that makes you realize how hungry you
really are.”

“Exactly.” He enunciated every syllable for
emphasis. “So it’s not just me, huh?”

“Nope. Not just you. It was a mistake in a lot of
ways.” She leaned back, and he was able to look into those warm, brown eyes
that he loved so well. “You know, it wasn’t all your fault. I did nothing to
discourage you. I have no doubt that if I had asked you to stop you would have.
I encouraged you, maybe not with words, but in every other way.”

He shrugged. “I’m supposed to honor and protect
you, not lead you into sin.”

“That goes for me, too. You know, after she sent
you that text threatening you with castration, my crazy sister actually said
something kind of profound.”

Chris cocked an eyebrow. Abby was intelligent, but
he had yet to hear her say anything that indicated serious introspection.

“I know what you’re thinking, but I think she hit
the nail on the head with this.”

Rebecca moved over to the coffee table where Chris
had been so they could see eye-to-eye again. “Let me think of how she put it.”

He waited while she gathered her thoughts.

“She said that marriage isn’t the happily ever
after. It’s the rocky, brush-covered path that’ll get you there. You’re going
to trip and fall. You might even take a side trail that gets you lost and
confused and you’ll have to fight your way back. Every last vice, fault, and
rough edge will be exposed, but you’ll never have to travel alone, and if you
hang in there it’ll perfect you like a refiner’s fire.”

“Abby said that?” He was incredulous; he couldn’t
help it.

Rebecca laughed. “Yes. After I confirmed she wasn’t
body snatched, I kissed her. I’ve been so focused on the wedding and our
wedding night that I kind of forgot the purpose of the whole thing. It breaks
my heart to think I’m going to hurt you and disappoint you a thousand times over,
but I know I will. And you will. But I love you with all my heart, and I’m
going to promise before God and our families and friends that I will forever.
This,” she said as she gestured around them, “these last few days, doesn’t mean
we’ve made a fatal error. We screwed up. We go to confession, and we get back
up and dust ourselves off and keep moving in the right direction.”

Profound gratitude for Rebecca and for a God who
brought them together filled his chest. He moved forward in his seat and taking
hold of her hands, pulled her into his lap.

“How did you know that was exactly what I needed to
hear?”

She smiled and kissed his cheek, then his ear, and
his neck. “Because I needed to hear it, too.”

“The wedding night’s going to be . . . different.” 
He rubbed her back and tried to make sense of his muddled feelings. “I know
we’re forgiven, but I still feel—”

“Yuck?”

He chuckled. “Is that the technical term for it?”

She nodded. “I guess there’s not much we can do
about it now.”

Was there anything they could do? An idea formed.
“No… but what if we did something that maybe made us feel less ‘yuck’ and made
the honeymoon sweeter?”

“Such as?”

“Lay off the heavy kissing until the wedding.” Not
that he wanted to—ever. But, it would sort of give them a clean slate.

She traced a finger along his cheek and chin then
tapped his lips. “It’s a good idea. We can’t undo what we did, but this’ll make
things more special.”

***

Rebecca turned left and then right in front of the
full- length mirror and admired her reflection. “What do you think?”

Abby stared and smiled. “I think it looks perfect,
which is a good thing because this is the final fitting, and the wedding is a
week away.”

That’s it? No cutting wit? No snide comment? “It
does look good, doesn’t it?”

She stepped down from the pedestal, and Abby helped
her remove the gown. Abby waited outside the changing room door while she
slipped on her jeans and shirt. “So, did Dad say if he’s coming or not?”

Rebecca’s mood plummeted. “He won’t commit. When I
ask, he says the same thing he said the first time Chris and I went over there
and told him we were getting married.”

“What’s that?”

She opened the shuttered door and handed the gown
to the seamstress. “He says, ‘I’ll never approve of it.’”

“You know, Rebecca, it might be better if he stayed
away.”

Rebecca took her purse back from Abby and swung it
over her shoulder. “That’s what Chris says, but Abby, it’s Dad.”

“I know, I know.”

They walked to the counter where Rebecca handed the
girl her debit card to make the final payment on the gown. Her eyes darted to
the speaker mounted on the wall above them. “Abby, listen. What’s this song?”

“Not sure. I’ve heard it before though.”

“We need to figure it out. And then I need to
borrow your husband.”

“Okay, but I thought we’d start the swapping after
the wedding.”

Rebecca rolled her eyes. “I figured out what I’m
going to give Chris for a wedding present, and I need to practice on Joel.”

25

Lying In the Hands of
God

Chris sat in the front pew wiping his sweaty palms
on his tuxedo pants when Father John crossed the altar and stood in front of
him.

“How’s my bride?”

He always suspected his friend had a soft spot for
Rebecca. Now his admiration was apparent. Father John blinked and gave his head
a little shake as if he couldn’t believe what he was about to say. “She’s
stunning.”

“Is she nervous?”

“About marrying you? Not a bit. She’s worried her
dad’s not going to show though.”

Chris glanced at his watch. A reasonable concern.
The wedding would start in fifteen minutes. “He’s not coming. I knew it, but
she kept holding out hope. What do we do?”

Before Father John could answer, Alan slid into the
pew next to Chris.

“Alan, did Rebecca’s dad get here yet?”

“I haven’t seen him. Do you think he’s going to
show?”

Chris looked at Father John. “No, I don’t.”

“Abby told me something at the rehearsal dinner
last night. About her dad.”

Chris and Father John both turned to Alan and
waited for him to explain.

“She said she hadn’t told Rebecca, but apparently
Abby had it out with their dad last weekend—about the wedding.” Alan scooted in
closer to Chris and Father John and lowered his voice.

“He told her he doesn’t want to hurt Rebecca, but
he can’t in good conscience support her marrying you.” Alan seemed aggrieved by
all this, even though it must seem to him like they were splitting hairs over
religious nonsense. “He said he couldn’t support her apostling or something
like that?”

Father John leaned forward over the pew.
“Apostasizing?”

Alan met his gaze. “Yeah. I think that was it.
Sorry, I’m not familiar with all the religious terminology.”

Father John shook his head. “No, that’s okay,
Alan.”

Alan’s head moved back and forth between Chris and
Father John. “Anyway, that led to a big row, and Abby told him if he didn’t
love his own daughter enough to wish her well in her marriage, then he should
just stay away.”

Chris rubbed his sweaty palm over his forehead. A
headache threatened. He didn’t doubt that Rebecca’s dad loved her, even if he
did a dreadful job of showing it. His absence would break Rebecca’s heart, but
Chris wondered what he would do differently if it was
his
daughter he
truly thought was jeopardizing her soul.

Surveying Alan and then Chris, Father John clapped
his hands together. “Here’s what I suggest you do.”

***

Rebecca stared into the mirror and pushed a stray
hair beneath the comb holding her veil in place. The urgent knock on the door
made her jump. Her hand flew over her heart. Five minutes until the ceremony.
Finally, her dad had made it.

“Come in,” she called toward the door. When the door
opened, she was stunned not to see her dad or Abby, but Chris. He looked so
handsome in his tux that her knees actually felt weak.

He gave her the biggest dimpled smile. “I'm here to
walk you down the aisle, Rebecca.” He took a few seconds to look her over from
the long tulle veil that hung past her shoulders to the beaded sweetheart
neckline of her gown, the cinched waist, and the full, flowing skirt with
intricate beaded designs.

“Wow.” He stepped toward her and lifted her hand to
his lips, kissing her knuckles right next to the beautiful ring he had given
her. “You’ve brought another one of my fantasies to life.” He tugged on her
hand, slid it under the lapel of his jacket and laid it over his heart. “Do you
feel what you do to me?”

Rebecca finally found her voice. “Chris, you're not
supposed to see me before the wedding.”

He released her hand, but his blue eyes still
focused on her. “I don't believe in that superstitious nonsense. I'm here to
walk down the aisle with my bride.”

He was being so sweet, but she knew what he had
come to tell her. “He’s not coming, is he?”

He shook his head and held her gaze. “No,
sweetheart, he’s not coming.”

Rebecca fanned her face, picked up her train with
her left hand, and started pacing the tiny room. “I can’t cry, my makeup will
run.”

“So, don’t cry.”

Easy for him to say. Both of his parents sat in the
church eager to be part of one of the most important days in their son’s life.

She wouldn’t be able to hold back the tears much
longer.

“Rebecca, look at me.”

She turned to see Chris with the right side of his
jacket hanging loosely behind him. He had slid the suspender from his right
shoulder and was in the process of unzipping his pants.

“Chris!” She couldn’t keep the alarm out of her
voice. What on earth was he doing? Any minute a knock on the door would signal
it was time to begin and for some unknown reason he was disrobing.

“You’re not going to cry, you’re going to laugh.”
Chris pushed the right side of his black pants down far enough for her to see
his hip, which was covered in black ink.

“You got a tattoo?” What was he thinking?

“Not a permanent one. This is why I didn’t want to
sleep at Alan’s place the last two nights after my lease ran out. He thought it
would be funny to tattoo me with a Sharpie.”

Rebecca took a step closer. It said, “I love
Rebecca” using a heart symbol for “love.”

She didn’t cry after all. She laughed. “How did he
do that without waking you?”

Chris tucked in his shirt, zipped his pants, and
slipped the suspender back over his shoulder. As he slid his arm back into his
jacket and shrugged to adjust the fit, he whispered in her ear. “Alan knows
something you don’t. I sleep naked.”

He took a step back and gave her another dimpled
grin. Then she laughed again and couldn’t stop laughing. In fact, she laughed
so hard she feared her makeup may be ruined by happy tears.

A knock sounded on the door, and Abby stuck her
head in. “Get it together, you two. We’re up next.”

***

Chris missed out on that magical view of Rebecca
walking toward him from the back of the church, but having her on his arm
eliminated every last trace of nervousness. His heart swelled with pride just
having her by his side. Father John was right—she looked stunning, and her
appearance only captured a fraction of her interior beauty.

He tried to focus on the Mass, but his mind raced
in a million directions settling periodically on the folds of white tulle that
scratched the stiff fabric of his jacket. Each distracting rustle diverted his
attention to the resplendent woman beside him. When it was time for the homily,
he made a concerted effort to pay attention and to remember what Father John
said to them.

“I’m blessed to witness the marriage of two dear
friends.” Father John smiled at both of them. “I met Chris and Rebecca at
different times, different places, separated by almost a decade.  Neither of
them were Catholic at the time. And, no, I did not introduce them. Some would
say it was a chance meeting. I think Chris and Rebecca would disagree.”

Chris squeezed Rebecca’s hand as he remembered the
first time he saw her. The ear-piercing screams of a child had
caught
his attention, but the pretty girl desperately trying to soothe the child
held
it.

Father John glanced at his notes and then back at
him and Rebecca. “Most of us are familiar with the Sting song, ‘If You Love
Somebody, Set Them Free.’ Now, you can interpret that sentiment in a lot of
different ways, but I believe it is more accurate to say that if you love
somebody,
you
set them free. I propose that today Chris and Rebecca will
be set free.

“I see some of the looks from the guys here. I know
what you’re thinking. Free? Chris is about to be shackled to the old ball and
chain.” A smattering of laughter erupted.

“But in a few moments, when Chris and Rebecca
confer the sacrament on each other, they will mirror the image of God in a
special way. We all remember St. Patrick, right? That holiday when we drink
green beer?”

More tittering. Their guests professed a mixture of
all faiths and no faith, but most were non-practicing Christians, and if they
thought they could slump back in the pew and wait for the kiss at the end, they
were mistaken. Father John would catechize them without them even knowing it.

“St. Patrick used the shamrock to show that God is
a communion of three persons—Father, Son, and Holy Spirit. And we know from the
fourth chapter of John’s Gospel, the beautiful reading that Chris and Rebecca
chose, which I just read, that God is love. Today, by and through their love,
Chris and Rebecca become one flesh, one body. As male and female their married
love, the physical union of their bodies, manifests the love of God. Now, I see
some people squirming in their seats, but come on, we know what’s going to
happen tonight, right? Chris, you are taking Rebecca on a honeymoon, aren’t
you?”

Chris smiled and nodded. With laughter from behind
him, he doubted Father John could hear him, so he held up his right index
finger and made a zero with his left hand.

“He’s signing ten days for me. That’s a serious
honeymoon, folks.”  More laughter followed. “Here’s a couple that takes their
vows seriously, because that’s what they’ll be doing—renewing the vows that
they take freely here today to be faithful to one another and open to life.

“We all know that we are more than our bodies.
We’re body and soul, but the soul is rather useless when it comes to the
material world. Souls can’t speak or hug. They can’t sing or dance. They can’t
laugh or cry. And they can’t make love. But with our bodies, we can communicate
from the depths of our souls. We can love and be loved. And isn’t that what we
all want? To love and be loved. Today and for the rest of their lives, Chris
and Rebecca are free to love and be loved. They are free to make their very
lives, their very bodies—which we know communicate the deepest stirrings of the
soul—a gift to one another.

“Well, you might say, that’s all good for Chris and
Rebecca, but what does that mean, really? What’s the big picture here? Do you
see how this freedom, this total gift of self is like an echo of the greatest
gift ever given?” Father John turned and gestured to the crucifix suspended
behind him. “The gift of Christ’s flesh, his body, for the life of his bride,
the Church.”

 Chris had heard these words before; they had drawn
him to the Church. He’d never
felt
the truth of them until now. The
awesome responsibility he undertook by making Rebecca his wife humbled him. And
scared him. And, geez, did a tear just roll down his cheek? Good thing they
were facing the altar rather than their guests.

He swiped at his cheek, bumping Rebecca’s arm, and
she nudged him back with her elbow. He cast a sideways glance at her, and she
smiled. Tears dampened her cheeks, too.

“That, my friends,” Father John said, gesturing
again to the crucifix, “wasn’t easy. That required sacrifice and suffering. So
much suffering that as he hung there, Jesus called out to his Father, ‘Why have
you abandoned me?’

“Chris and Rebecca, like all of us, will suffer. We
don’t want to think of the suffering because today is a happy day. We’re going
to leave here and celebrate. We’re going to eat and drink—there is an open bar
right?  And we’ll laugh and dance, and that is as it should be.

“I wish you could see what I see standing here: the
joy on Chris and Rebecca’s faces. They’re both wiping tears from their cheeks,
but they’re not sad. They’re overcome. They’re filled with joy.”

Well, so much for hiding the tears. Chris sniffed,
and then pulled the handkerchief from his interior pocket and handed it to
Rebecca. She dabbed around her eyes, still trying to preserve her makeup.

“As their friends and their family, it’s our duty
to support them in their vocation—their marriage. They’re going to be on such a
high at first that they won’t dwell on each other’s faults. But given time,
they will. They’ll get on each other’s nerves. There will be money problems.
Health problems. Problems with children.”

Father John’s gaze settled on him and Rebecca then
and his tone softened. “There will be in-law problems. Problems they brought
with them from their families of origin. And none of us escape our fallen
natures, making us susceptible to temptation and sin and, therefore,
suffering.”

Chris wished Father John had prepared them for
this. Now they were both a wreck. He could see Rebecca’s shoulders shaking in
his peripheral vision, and he looped his arm around her to soothe her. He also
wished they’d had someone record this so they could remember it. Maybe Father
John could give him a copy of it, although it looked like he was winging it off
his notes.

“When the time comes, hold them up. Encourage them.
Babysit their children so they can go on a date. If they’re an inspiration,
tell them. If they’re failing miserably, and they need correction, tell them.
Gently. Above all, pray for them.”