The Wedding Part III
The Moment
"Ryan?" I called tentatively.
It was cold in the corridor outside the ballroom. I shivered, wrapping my arms around myself as I drew closer. He was only about twenty feet away, his back to me, his shoulders stiff and arms crossed... in front of him, a man with dark hair and blue eyes stood. I knew immediately that it was his father.
It had taken twenty minutes to track them down. I'd been waylaid numerous times by excited guests, happy family members and the like; but when I'd finally realized Ryan definitely wasn't in the ballroom, I'd started asking waiters if they'd seen him leave, and – thank God – one had, and directed me to the nearly empty hall through one of the doors. To my relief, Ryan hadn't gone far.
When I called him, he turned slightly, looking over his shoulder. I wasn't sure what to expect. With a pang in my heart, I noted his pale skin, the look of weary caution, the ebbing sadness in his dry eyes. My chest squeezed.
I looked at the man in front of him. So this is Ryan's father.
He wasn't what I'd expected - though, again, I didn't know what to expect. He was dressed in a suit. His black hair was streaked with gray. His eyes, paler than Ryan's, were tired and old-looking. He looked as if he hadn't slept in days.
But there was no denying his handsomeness. There was a rugged quality in his unshaven face, the thick lock of hair falling over his brow, the broad shoulders and tall height. There was nothing hesitant, insecure, or unsure in that face- though there was a great deal of sadness... Despite that, anyone could see that this was a strong man, a suave, confident man, someone unused to rejection. I saw in his attitude the same magnetism I saw in Ryan the first time we met. The same pull that had drawn me in so quickly.
I shook my head a little, to clear it. Well, who could blame Diane, I found myself thinking, and then I almost rolled my eyes at myself. Focus. As I looked back up and studied the two men, I realized that although it was easy to see where Ryan got his looks, where he got his charisma and magnetic appeal, that's where the similarities ended. There was nothing familiar between the two, nothing that would tie them together as father and son. As if an ocean separated them... I wondered if they'd ever be able to cross it.
The man, following Ryan's gaze, looked at me and his eyebrows slowly rose. I was gratified to see genuine regret in the man's eyes as they fastened on mine... sadness and carefulness and – surprisingly – approval.
"Is this her?" He asked Ryan in a deep, quiet voice. Ryan looked back at him, a new guardedness in his expression, before he nodded, once. Then he glanced back at me, extending one of his hands. I walked faster to reach his side and then entwined my fingers in his, squeezing them quickly. He pulled me closer, sliding his arm around my waist.
"Yes... my wife." His voice sounded slightly hoarse.
"Of course. It's an honor to meet you..." He paused.
"Maureen." I supplied.
"Maureen." He looked me over once more, and the shade of approval intensified. "I'm Jonathan, Ryan's father... But I expect you already knew that."
"Yes."
"She's beautiful," he said to Ryan and Ryan nodded, tightening his grip, and I sucked in a little breath because it hurt a little.
Jonathan's gaze looked from me to Ryan and then back and then he looked down. "Congratulations are in order, of course. You two make a lovely couple... my son seems to me very lucky to have you as his wife."
I didn't say anything at first; I didn't know what to say. "He's an incredible man... your son," I said finally. It seemed wrong to call him that.
He smiled, faintly. "He is, indeed... Inherited from and cultivated by an incredible woman."
A sharp exhale escaped Ryan. I glanced up at him, and saw a war in his eyes. I tugged at the back of his jacket, trying to grab hold of his attention. He looked at me, blankly, and I shook my head imperceptibly. To remind him.
See, Ryan had forgiven his father. It'd happened about four months before, in a small, little-known church that my family frequently attended.
The sermon was about rejection and forgiveness. From the first few opening lines, I knew something extraordinary was going to happen that day.
Halfway through, the pastor came up and began speaking directly to Ryan. Ryan was staggered. How had he known? Then the pastor told him "it was time" and to get down on his knees. When he did, the minister told me to sit next to him and the next thing I knew, Ryan's face was in my lap and he was crying like a little child, and the pastor was leading him through a prayer of forgiveness.
It was one of the most moving, emotional, and glorious moments I'd ever witnessed. Ryan was different after that. He spoke about his father often, but there was no bitterness, no anger. I was relieved. I didn't care for Jonathan – the man had nearly ruined his son in his abandonment of him – and he did not deserve forgiveness. But neither did any of us, in the end. And I couldn't bear for that barely repressed misery to eat away at Ryan anymore. I wanted him to be free... and God wanted that, too.
But now that the man was here in the flesh, I could see what Ryan was fighting against. It was true, the bitterness was gone. There was weariness in its place. He wanted to be angry, because that was what Jonathan deserved. He wanted to be cruel and harsh – he wanted to inflict on him the same pain that he'd been subjected to. But... he wanted to move on, as well. He wanted to separate himself from the grip of Jonathan's rejection. He didn't want anything from his father, not even an apology. He would extend forgiveness, but solely because of the man he was, and not the man his father was.
I felt like I was reading his soul through his eyes. I didn't know what he was going to do and he didn't either. I looked away.
"Is she here? Your mother." Jonathan said next to him. There was a measured deference in the way he spoke... as if he knew he had to be cautious.
"She is."
"Does she...?"
"Know? Yes."
Jonathan nodded slowly, accepting this answer for what it was worth.
"Your daughter is here, too." For the first time since joining him in the hall, I heard the slightest hint of coldness in Ryan's voice. I looked at him and he shook his head abruptly, a faint sound like a groan emitting from his throat. He hadn't meant to let the weakness slip through.
Jonathan's face seemed to have gone slack. He stared at Ryan and then cleared his throat.
"Oh... I... yes- I, I suspected that might be the case. Ah... how is she?" He was shaken, but recovered quickly.
"Good. Better."
"I'm... I'm very glad to hear that." There was a lengthy pause. Then - "Your mother was keeping me updated on the state of her health - up until a year ago. Then she stopped."
"Lacey's been cancer-free for 14 months," Ryan said. "My mother probably didn't feel the need to keep it up."
"Well," Jonathan said. "I can understand that."
"I'm sure you can."
"I, I didn't know if I should come today." Jonathan said carefully, studying Ryan. "I didn't know if it would be too upsetting... for you."
Ryan shook his head, not giving an answer.
"I've wanted to come before this... back when your mother first told me about La- about your sister's illness."
"Why didn't you?" You wouldn't think he much cared to get an answer, if you'd heard Ryan's voice in that instance. I don't even think he knew if he did or not.
But he did. Jonathan gazed at him, gauging his words. "She wouldn't let me." He said finally.
"She wouldn't let you."
"Your mother. She said I had no right. I wanted to, Ryan. You must believe that, at least. I'm not a complete monster... I was shocked when Diane first told me about the leukemia. I was going to come right away. Show my support, help where I could. But your mother wouldn't allow it."
Ryan didn't say anything. Up until that moment, I'd felt like a spectator at a show, and I suddenly didn't want to be. I didn't belong. Not here, not a witness to this meeting between father and son. I wished I could leave.
"To be completely honest, she was more worried about your reaction than La- than your sister's."
Still, Ryan didn't say anything.
"Are you sorry I came?" This he asked in a deep, quiet voice.
Ryan looked away. When he spoke, his voice was filled with pain. But not anger.
"I don't know. I don't know what I -" He broke off. Then tried to start again. "I'm going back inside. I don't know if I'll see you again, so I'll say this now..." He took in a deep, shuddering breath, closing his eyes. After a long moment, he opened them again. "It took me years to forgive you. I thought I finally had. Only now I realize that I did."
Jonathan seemed to want to say something, but changed his mind.
"I don't want anything from you. I used to. But now..." He shook his head. And then in a tone of wonderment, he said, "I don't need you anymore."
Then, stepping back, and taking me with him, Ryan gave his father one last, long, penetrating look. Jonathan's mouth opened, closed. Understanding finally set in, after the bewilderment. Disappointment and regret shone through as well.
He knew there was nothing he could say. He'd been released from the cord that Ryan had refused to cut, released from the pain that had held him captive, unbeknown to himself, for the past eight years.
Finally, Ryan was free. Looking up at him in awe, I tried to understand the change.
Somehow, somewhere within the span of a few minutes, Ryan had become a man. I thought he was one before. But the last tie to his childhood had been neatly and carefully taken away. The old pain was gone. Ryan had released his father from the childlike hold that had held him in it's grip for so long.
I guess every man has a moment. It must come through pain or experience, grief or sorrow. Ryan's had come through forgiveness.
"I'll ask my mother if she'd like to speak to you." He said. "Stay as long as you wish - we'll be gone soon anyway... Goodbye, Dad." And then, taking my hand, we went away, and left Jonathan standing still in the hall, his eyes following us, his shoulders sagging. I felt a pang of pity, deep in my chest. He'd lost everything, and I think he was just only beginning to realize that.
My heart, by this point, felt like it was in my throat. I had that queasy, exhilarated feeling like I'd just stepped off a rollercoaster, and I wasn't sure if I'd enjoyed it or not.
I kept darting little looks his way as we strode along. I had the sense that he had the same feeling I did, and he was even less sure what to do with it.
We didn't immediately go back into the ballroom. Ryan led me down the hall, until we'd rounded a curve, and were out of Jonathan's sight. Only then did he slow down, eventually coming to a total stop. Then he turned to me, gave me a long, searching look, and gathered me in his arms.
I hugged him back, relieved, but I wanted to know what he was feeling. What had just happened.
He pressed his cheek against mine.
"Thank you," he said into my ear.
"For what?" I said, confused.
"Everything."
I shook my head, but tightened my arms around his neck. I pressed my face to the curve of his neck.
"So..."
"So."
I ran my fingers lightly down the back of his head. "You know what I say..."
"What?"
"We should go."
"Where?"
"Anywhere. Let's catch a train - let's go to New York."
Ryan's body shook slightly with laughter; I could tell he was grateful for the distraction. "That's on the other side of the country."
"So? We can be like bandits, and hitch rides on buses and sleep under bridges."
"Hmm... and what exactly is wrong with plane tickets again?"
"Nothing. Just thought it might be fun. Doing something that has edge, risk. You know."
"Because traveling Europe isn't enough of a thrill. Of course. Silly me."
"Oh, shush," I pulled back, intent on studying his face and figuring out how long before it all became too much and he couldn't pretend not to care anymore. He looked down at me, surface amusement shining playfully in his warm gaze, but there was, beyond it, a well of something nameless, something unsure and bewildered and disbelieving. "How do you feel?" I asked.
"I don't know." Instantly, the front crumbled away and he looked away. "I'm confused..."
"About what?"
"It's like everything I've thought about, everything I was up until a few minutes ago, everything I'd become since he left... it's all gone. It's there, but I don't feel it anymore. You know what I mean? And I don't know what to do with myself now. I don't know how I'm supposed to come out of it..."
"You've gotta be rebuilt."
"Sort of. Yeah. Exactly. But how that's gonna happen, I have no idea..." He ran his hands through his hair, closing his eyes for a brief second. Then he opened them, looked into my eyes, shook his head. "I can't believe he came. I can't believe that just happened."
"I know."
"I'm sorry."
"Why?" I asked disbelievingly.
"We just got married. We should be in there," he waved a hand towards the ballroom, "celebrating, with our family, with friends. Not figuring out what this is, how to get back up again after... after that."
"Hey," I grabbed his other hand, held them close together in my own. "Hey. You didn't ask for this. It happened. And yeah, bad timing, but who cares. I don't."
"I do," he objected.
"Okay, but how does that change anything? This had to happen eventually, Ryan. And I'm glad it happened today. In a way... in a way, it was the best thing that could've happened."
"What do you mean?"
"Don't you see? You're free now. You're free to love, you're free to live. You weren't free before, Ryan. You were tied down to all that hate and anger and hurt... tied down to him, your father, and everything he did to you."
"But I forgave him."
"And today proved that. Today cut the last cord. Now - now," and I stepped forward, wrapping my arms around him, hugging him tightly, pressing my face to where his heart beat somewhat irregularly. "Now you don't belong to a memory anymore. Now you can be a father, without the shadow of what you lost haunting you."
Ryan was quiet a very long time. He held me and I knew the exact moment that it hit him. The exact moment when it all fell into place, and he was grateful. He leaned down, I lifted my face, and he pressed his cheek to mine.
"You're right. And I guess I never told you... how much I feared becoming a father." He confessed softly.
"I knew."
"You know me better than I know myself," he said, cupping my face and kissing me. I cradled his neck and his hands slid down my shoulders, around my back. "I love you... so much, that sometimes it scares me. I don't know what I'd do if you ever left me, if something ever happened to you..."
I shook my head, burying it in his chest. "I'm not going anywhere."
"Promise."
I pulled back, cupped his cheek, and stared into his beautiful eyes, tears springing into my own. "I promise."
We stared like that for a minute, locked in each other's eyes. Then Ryan sighed, his shoulders relaxing. A maid suddenly hurried by, pushing a cleaning cart, and we broke away from each other, the spell ruptured. The maid glanced at us, smiling politely, then looked back and her eyes widened.
"Oh, it's you two! Congratulations!" she beamed with excitement and we both smiled in unison. "Do y'all need anything?"
"No, we're fine, thanks."
"Alright! Beautiful dress, by the way," she added to me, almost wistfully, and then her eyes flickered over to Ryan and she blushed before hurrying on.
I smiled a little, that odd rush of pride and jealousy sparking for a moment before I suppressed it, and I looked up at Ryan, wondering if he noticed. He was looking down the hall, a thoughtful expression on his face, his teeth pulling at his bottom lip.
"They're probably missing us," he said, turning back to me, and then he paused, studying me, his own mouth curling up to match my expression. "What are you smiling about?"
I shook my head, but Ryan had never been so easy to waylay. His hands were on my waist before I had time to blink, and I shrieked a little, trying to pull away.
"Ryan!"
"Tell me, or I'll have to resort to you-know-what."
"Stop!" I breathed out on a laugh as I fought his hands.
"Maureen," he said warningly, and his dancing eyes and satisfied smirk assured me that he was, of course, enjoying this.
"It's nothing! You're so... so... ugh!" And I threw my hands up, giving up the fight, and Ryan grinned provocatively, swooping down to kiss me.
"We won't go anywhere until you tell me," he reminded me and I fought the urge to slap him.
"Fine! Fine, let me just feed your monstrous ego a little bit more, shall I? The maid was checking you out. I thought it was funny. The end. Happy?"
Ryan threw back his head and laughed, his hands still on my waist, and I crossed my arms over my chest, waiting until he stopped his manic bit, and we could get on.
"Whenever you're done." I said flatly and Ryan grinned.
"You're so cute when you're jealous."
"I am not! I was smiling."
"Yes, of course. The natural reaction to a young, attractive woman making eyes at your newlywed husband."
My mouth dropped and Ryan watched the disbelief in my face with a gratified smirk.
"I'm not even going to dignify that with a response," I said, and Ryan kissed me sweetly, pretending to be apologetic. I kept my arms crossed.
"You're an idiot," I mumbled and he smiled, drawing me closer to him, despite my folded arms.
"But I'm your idiot." He said and I had to roll my eyes. He reached up with one hand to tug my arms apart and I let him. He hugged me until my stiff posture loosened a little and then he said, casually, "You know, she could have been a fifty year old hunchback, for all I know."
I lifted an eyebrow, though he couldn't see. "You looked right at her."
"Doesn't mean I saw her. I only have eyes for you, Maureen."
I smiled despite myself because I didn't know if it would gratify me more to laugh, to cry, or to hit him.
"Oh, Ryan..."
"What?"
"Stop messing with me," I said softly and Ryan laughed quietly.
"I'm done," he said, kissing my hair before pulling back, and I sighed.
"You really think we have to go back in?" I thought about all the noise and excitement of the crowded reception, and while it was lovely and great, it felt like a million years away now. "I guess running away and hitchhiking to New York is out of the picture, huh?"
"Not necessarily," he smiled at my glum tone and played with a curl of my hair. "I don't think traipsing around the country like vagabonds will go down too well with your dad, but he might come around."
"We should've eloped," I shook my head. "In Vegas."
"A casino wedding. It'd make for some great wedding photos, at least."
"Mm-hmm." We walked back towards the ballroom, his arm around my back, and took a long side-trip to avoid the main hall where we'd left Jonathan. Just as we'd reached the doors, Ryan stopped me, looking me straight in the eye.
"I really meant it when I said thank you for everything, Maureen," he said earnestly. "I don't know what I'd do without you... you're everything to me. I didn't know what it was to live before you. I wonder where I'd be, if I didn't have you. All of this-" and he waved a hand around, as if to indicate the wedding, his father, the present, the past, the future, "it's all what God has given me... through you."
I wasn't used to this side of Ryan. He seemed fragile, in a way. I'd seen him angry before, I'd seen him passionate, upset, hurt, hopeful, and charming. I'd yet to see him so young. He was a man, but a young man. He'd been torn down and had risen up, shaken, but not beaten.
"I didn't do any of it," I said. "It was God throughout."
"I know. But He made you, didn't He."
"He made you, too."
"He made you for me, though I can't understand how I was ever worthy of it."
"Don't say that. You're perfect."
"I wish I was." He gripped my hand, and glanced at the door like a martyr. "I guess it's time."
"I guess so."
"Do you think they missed us?"
"I doubt it," I laughed. He grinned, and then we went in.
~ * ~
It was just like I'd thought. There was a cheer when people notice us walk back in, but no one approached to ask where we'd gone or mention that they'd wondered where we'd been. We headed to Diane's table, and when she saw us, she quickly got to her feet. Her face was taut with expectation. Lacey was standing next to her, gripping her hand.
"Well?"
Ryan looked at me and then squared his shoulders. "It's okay. We talked. He's in the hall, if you want to go out there."
"I'm more concerned with you... are you alright?"
"I'm fine."
After a long, tense moment, his mother nodded. Her mouth trembled a little before she turned to Lacey.
"Sweetheart, I have to ask you something."
"What?"
"Do you... well, there's somebody here... a man. And... well, just – just come with me. If you don't like him, or you don't want to talk to him, you can just come back in here with Ryan. Alright?"
Lacey looked confused, but she still nodded. With one last look towards Ryan, and a hesitant touch on his shoulder, Diane took Lacey and left.
Ryan sighed just as I did. We caught each other's eyes and smiled.
"When do you think we can get out of here?" He asked me, pulling me close. "I mean, I doubt anyone would wonder what the rush was."
"What's the rush?" I asked, before realizing. Then I turned red and pushed him away. "You set that up."
He laughed and tried to pull me back against him but I noticed the wedding planner approaching and stepped out of reach.
"Listen, you just better stop teasing me or there will be no, you know, tonight," I couldn't even look at him as I said it. I'd started off strong, and then my voice had faltered off.
Ryan immediately stopped laughing, but his eyes were still dancing when Meryl, the planner, drew close.
"How are my lovely bride and groom?" She asked with a smile.
"We're great. Thanks," I said.
"You look flushed. Have you been drinking a lot?" she gave me a disapproving look and I shot Ryan a look of fury when he laughed. Her expression changed. "Oh, so you have been. Honey, you're my youngest client. Barely legal... but," and her face softened. "It's your wedding and you should only have one of those, so enjoy yourself."
"Meryl, really," Ryan was really laughing now. I nudged him before continuing. "I haven't had anything to drink - except a bit of wine. Ryan's just been teasing me."
"Hmm." She gave Ryan one of those 'you know better' looks, then was back to her smiling self. "Well, I just came over to find out how you're doing and when you'd like to make your grand exit."
"Oh. Right. What time is it, anyway?"
"Just about seven-thirty. We'd talked about eight o' clock. Everything's arranged."
"How about we skip it? I'm in a partying mood - I think we should keep this up until the wee hours of the morning." Ryan looked at me disbelievingly and Meryl looked nonplussed.
"Well. Alright. I guess... if that's what you want."
"No. I just wanted to see Ryan squirm." I smirked and Ryan gave me a look, which, if loosely translated, would say "now you're really gonna get it."
"Boy oh boy, you two are in rare form tonight," Meryl tittered.
"You have no idea." Ryan said.
"Well, I've seen worse. I'll be back for you at seven forty-five. You might want to start making your goodbye rounds. You are going to be gone a long while, after all," she smiled at me and then left and I suddenly felt a little queasy.
See, the thing was, while I was excited to spend a month with Ryan, touring another continent, I was nervous, too. I'd never been away from home for so long. And then, there was the thought, that once we got back... well, I wouldn't be coming home.
I'd be making a new home.
"Hey, hey." Ryan must've noticed my glassy stare. He touched my arm. "What's wrong?"
"Nothing..." I gave a short little laugh. "I just realized we're really going away. You know. And then, when we get back, I won't be going home... ever."
Ryan didn't say anything, at first. His hand slipped down to meet mine and our fingers entangled. I tried to undo the nonsense I'd just confessed to.
"It's silly, I know," I rubbed at my forehead, then pushed my hair behind my ear. "I'm sure I'll be over it in a minute."
"Maureen." I looked up. "It's okay, you know. You'll miss your family. There's nothing wrong with that."
"I just don't want you to think it changes the way I feel about you, at all. Trust me, it doesn't." I tried to make him understand my convoluted feelings. "If anything, you should know that there would be no way on God's green earth that I would do this with anyone but you."
He chuckled. "That's reassuring."
"Good. 'Cause... you know, you're the love of my life."
The amusement faded from Ryan's eyes. He suddenly leaned down and kissed me. There were a few catcalls and hooting all around and I blushed, but Ryan just pulled back and my blush faded as our eyes locked, stayed, spoke. The queasy, scared feeling faded. I suddenly knew I had nothing to be afraid of.
"You ready?" He whispered finally.
I nodded, my heart in my throat.
And I was. I really was.