Lessons Learned (30 page)

“I’d love to build a snowman with you, Lucas.”

“Then what’s wrong?”

“Nothing,” I said, smiling at him.

He didn’t press the issue, but I could feel his eyes on me while I finished my stew. After clearing the table and loading the dishwasher, he finally gathered me in his arms and pulled me close.

“Please tell me what’s wrong.” His voice was a soft plea. “Am I suffocating you? Is it too much? Because I can go home—”

“No!” I whispered emphatically, framing his face with my hands. “I want you here. I always want you here.”

He sighed with relief.

“It’s not you, Lucas. It’s me. I have this tendency of letting my insecurities get the best of me at times.”

His forehead creased with confusion. “Why are you feeling insecure?”

I wasn’t explaining this very well.

“Maybe insecure is the wrong word,” I muttered. “I feel unworthy. Undeserving.”

Lucas pushed a strand of hair behind my ear. “Undeserving of what?”

“Of you.”

Suddenly, I was being lifted into the air. Lucas settled me on top of the island, stepping between my legs as his arms encircled me. His eyes were brimming with adoration and devotion and a thousand other emotions that all resulted in the same sentiment.

“It’s overwhelming, being loved this much.”

Lucas smiled. “I’m sorry, sweetheart. I’ll try to love you a little less if that will make you feel better.”

Giggling, I gripped his shoulders, pulling him closer. “Don’t you dare.”

He tenderly kissed the tip of my nose. “If it’s any consolation, I’m overwhelmed sometimes, too.”

“You are?”

He nodded. “I’ve never been in love, so I have absolutely nothing to compare this to. I just know you invade my every thought. I want to be with you every second of every day, and when I think about the future . . .”

I watched as his throat bobbed nervously.

“You think about the future?” It was such a silly question to ask. Of course he did.

Very gently, his fingertips traced my cheek. “All the time. Is that scary to hear?”

“Yes,” I admitted, “but it’s not a bad thing. I think about the future, too.”

“A future with me?”

He sounded so unsure, and the last thing I wanted was for
him
to feel insecure.

“With you,” I said softly.

He kissed me, and it was sweet and tender as Lucas’s hands wove in my hair. With a quiet moan, my lips parted, and his answering groan vibrated through me. We were panting when he finally pulled away, burying his face against my neck, and holding me tight against him.

“I love you so much, Lucas.”

He pressed his forehead to mine. “I love you, too. I know it’s overwhelming. I know it’s scary. But don’t be afraid. Don’t be afraid of this.”

I nodded, and it was my solemn promise to try.

“Now,” I said, smiling at him, “come build a snowman with me?”

His entire face lit up with happiness.

Chapter 22

“He needs . . . something,” I said, appraising our third and final attempt at building the perfect Frosty.

    Lucas couldn’t stop smiling. We’d spent the afternoon rolling snowballs, trying to get them the right size before piling them on top of each other. It had been a slow process, mostly because I kept falling in the snow, which would then lead to kisses in the snow. We were absolutely freezing, but we didn’t care.

It was the perfect snow day.

“Maybe a hat?” Lucas suggested. “I have a Sycamore Panthers cap in my back seat.”

I giggled. “If you can get to your car.”

He patted Frosty’s head. “Sorry, buddy. Your hat may have to wait until I can find a shovel.”

The snow had stopped for now, but Lucas estimated we had about ten inches in the front yard.

“So,” Lucas whispered against my ear as he settled his hands on my waist. “Are you frozen yet?”

“Almost.”

Twisting around in his arms, I tried to wrap my arms around his neck, which was no easy feat thanks to the multiple layers between us. We were both in heavy coats, scarves, hats, and gloves, making any sort of embrace a little awkward.

“Your nose is red, baby.”

I laughed. “Like your cheeks.”

Lucas chuckled and pressed his cold lips to mine. “Thank you, Sarah.”

“For what?”

“My first snowman.”

“We can make another one tomorrow, if you like,” I offered. It wasn’t like the snow would be melting anytime soon.

“I’d love to, but right now, I think we both could use a hot shower.”

I pretended to ponder this. “How about a bath instead?”

Excitement flickered in his eyes, and he grasped my gloved hand, practically dragging me into the house.

Over the next two days, we fell into a routine. Sleeping in, having late breakfasts, playing in the snow, bubble baths . . . it was all very domestic and comfortable, and I found myself hoping the snow would never melt.

By Sunday, the crews had cleared most of the main roads leading into town. I was content to stay in the house until spring, but Aubrey called on Saturday night, inviting us to sit with them at church on Sunday morning. Lucas convinced me it was her version of a peace offering, and I decided to accept it.

“The place is nearly empty,” Lucas said as we walked toward the pew. Aubrey and Tommy had yet to arrive. I did see Matt sitting with his parents, and I offered him a smile when he waved.

We took our seats and grabbed a hymnal to share. We’d only slid a few times on the curvy two-lane road, but it was enough for Lucas to announce we would own an SUV before next winter.

We.

“Why are you smiling like that?” Lucas whispered over the strains of the piano.

“Am I smiling?”

He lifted my hand and pressed a soft kiss along my knuckles. “Something is making you very happy this morning.”

All I could do was nod in agreement, but, honestly, my happiness wasn’t limited to just this morning. It was every single day. Granted, life wasn’t perfect, and I was facing unemployment, but even that didn’t ruin these moments with Lucas.

For the first time in my life, I was able to find happiness in spite of the misery.

“Did you guys have any trouble?” Tommy asked as they settled into the pew on each side of us. Aubrey brushed my shoulder and we shared a smile while Lucas began pumping Tommy for information about the best makes and models of four-wheel drives.

“Where’s Daniel?”

“Mom offered to keep him,” Aubrey explained as she unzipped her coat. “He was still running a low-grade fever this morning. That’s why we’re late. He’s so clingy when he’s sick. It broke my heart to leave him, but Tommy really wanted to come. Apparently, Matt asked to speak to the congregation today.”

My eyes widened as Pastor Martin welcomed us. We did the obligatory singing of hymns and offered prayer requests before the pastor began his sermon. It was a short one, and after the choir’s quiet rendition of “How Great Thou Art,” the pastor brought Matt to the altar.

“Matthew Stuart has asked to speak to the congregation this morning,” the preacher announced. Dressed in his black suit, Matt looked nervous as he fiddled with the paper in his hand. “Matthew has been a member of our congregation since the day he was born but officially joined our church when he was eight years old. I had the privilege of baptizing this young man in the waters of the Sycamore River . . .”

As the preacher continued introducing Matt, I glanced around at the congregation. Neither Patrick nor his parents were in their usual pew, and snow had kept several regular attendees away. The members who had braved the snow and ice were looking everywhere but at the eighteen-year-old boy who bravely stood before them this morning

“Good morning,” Matt said, his voice trembling as he stepped closer to the microphone.  “I stand humbly before my church family today to seek your forgiveness. I have already spoken with Patrick and his family, and while he is willing to share the blame for our fight at school, I cannot ignore the fact he is the one with the broken jaw. He was the one who was carted out in an ambulance, and for that, I am very sorry.”

There were a few murmurs among the congregation before he continued.

“I love my hometown. I love my school, and I love my church. I have spent my life trying to be a good Christian . . . a role model to these young kids who watched me play football every Friday night. I know I have failed them, and I apologize.”

“Is he going to apologize for being gay?” A voice sounded behind me. My breath caught in my throat, and I looked over my shoulder to find myself staring into the bitter eyes of Principal Mullins.

Why isn’t he sitting in his usual spot with the other deacons?

I turned my attention back to a nervous Matt who was fidgeting with his tie. He took a deep breath and lifted his eyes toward the congregation.

“I cannot stand before you today and not address the rumors about me,” Matt whispered to the crowd. “That would be dishonest, and if there’s one place you can’t be dishonest, well . . . this would be it.”

Matt squared his shoulders and stared straight ahead.

“I am gay.”

There were a few gasps. I could hear someone crying, and I looked over to find Debbie Stuart sobbing into her tissue. Her husband looked stoic, but his arm was wrapped around her shoulder. I chanced a glance at the pastor who was intently watching his congregation. He was doing exactly what I was doing—trying to gauge their reaction. Gossip was a way of life and could sometimes be ignored, but to have the rumors confirmed right inside the church walls was an entirely different situation.

You could see it immediately. Lines were being drawn in the sand. Sides were being chosen. An older couple in the front row actually stood up and walked down the aisle and right out the front door.

Matt didn’t notice. His eyes were now planted firmly on his mother whose weeping had quieted. She was now smiling at her son, trying to offer him encouragement from the confines of her seat.

“I understand my being gay goes against our beliefs,” Matt said softly. “That’s why I’m here. Not only did I want to apologize for hurting Patrick, but I also wanted respectfully to ask your permission to remain a member of this church. It’s the only church I’ve ever known. It would break my heart to have to leave, but I would understand, and I would leave without a fuss. The last thing I want to do is bring more shame to my family or to my church.”

He thanked us for listening and Pastor Martin rose from his seat, placing a supportive hand on Matt’s shoulder. The two men nodded at each other before Matt walked toward his mother. She met him halfway, wrapping her arms around him and hugging him close. Matt’s dad remained in his pew, and his face was a blank mask as he stared at the wall.

An eerie silence filled the sanctuary until the pastor cleared his throat to say a final prayer. Organ music filled the air, and we were dismissed.

“Can they ask him to leave?” Lucas whispered to me.

I glanced at Tommy whose eyes were watching the scene between Matt and his mother. “Can they?”

He sighed loudly. “I don’t think the deacons or pastor can
force
him to leave . . .”

“No, but we can certainly make him miserable enough to want to go,” Principal Mullins replied behind me. All of us watched as our principal placed his hat under his arm and walked straight toward the rest of the deacons.

Tommy shook his head sadly before rising to his feet. “We should get going. We need to stop by the drugstore again.”

“Call me?” Aubrey asked.

I promised I would and she gave my hand a squeeze before she and Tommy followed the crowd out the door.

Lucas and I were frozen in our seats. My eyes darted between Matt and his parents, and then across the aisle, where the deacons were huddled in a discussion with the pastor.

“They can make him miserable? At church?”  Lucas whispered. “I thought church was supposed to be a safe haven . . . a place to worship . . .”

I watched with a heavy heart as Principal Mullins led the pastor and deacons through the doors behind the pulpit—the doors that led directly to the tiny meeting room.