Unexpected Wedding (15 page)

“Oh, Rocky, don’t you see why this is so hard? We do... We did have something to build on. I’ve never had much success with men. I always get hurt in the worst way. But I enjoy every minute we spend together. If this hadn’t happened to me, we would be dating like normal people. I think I would have been able to resist my natural impulse to run away like I always do because of fear. I think I could have stuck around to see how it turned out.”

“Then don’t run away now. Stick around and talk about it. I should get to address your lengthy list of reasons this won’t work.”

She returned to the recliner.

“First of all, I’m not afraid of that rapist. We’ll figure out how to deal with it. You need to talk to the authorities about it, but it’s something we’ll discuss. All I can say about God is that I’ve scoured Scripture and prayed about this. We would not be unequally yoked. Can God really be against two people who care about and respect each other and join together to give a child what he needs?”

She picked at the crocheted blanket. “I don’t know.”

“As far as my friends and my church family, they want me to be happy. If there’s a problem, I’ll take care of it. As long as we’re doing the right thing, I’m not going to let someone’s personal opinion dissuade me. It’s no one’s business but ours.”

She continued to pick at the blue and white yarn in the throw. If she was starting to like the idea, it didn’t show. At least she was still sitting there.

“Most importantly, Gia, I don’t know what other men have done to you besides the assault to make you so skittish or feel like you’re not good enough to be happy, but I’m crazy about you and I don’t want you to leave. I want you to stay here and marry me and let’s take this one thing at a time and let it happen. It’s life. Let’s choose to live it together and put all the ugliness behind us.”

“You make a very appealing argument.”

“Is that a yes?”

“No.”

“Is it my parents? Believe me, they are a non-issue. I’m a grown man. They’ll be surprised, but they’ll get over it. In fact, they’ll be delighted once they get used to the idea. This means a grandbaby, remember? They’ve been wanting one of those.”

Her sudden gasp was a loud one. She left the chair, made a lap around the kitchen, and returned with a glass of water.

“What’s the matter?”

“Talking about a grandbaby... My parents are going to be grandparents. It’s surreal.” She swallowed a big gulp of water. “And you’re forgetting the health of this baby. I’m worried about that—his health and mine. The doctor is testing for diseases. Bad diseases.”

“Keep the faith, Gia. The chances you’ve contracted something are rare.”

“I know the statistics for me. But what about the baby? What are the chances the pregnancy will even survive after such a violent beginning?”

“I don’t have an answer for that, but you’re OK so far, right? And you were in great health before this happened?”

“Yes. I was able to get an appointment for Friday with an OB/GYN. It’s after I see the other doctor and pick up all the results she has so far.”

“You’ll feel better after that.”

“I know I probably can’t stay with that doctor because of insurance—or lack thereof—but I need to see someone as soon as possible and get some information. The Internet says I need prenatal vitamins. My headache comes back from time to time, and I don’t know if I can take anything.”

“That’s the kind of thing we’re going to figure out together.”

She tapped the side of her glass and kept talking as if she no longer heard him. “At any rate, you see again why I can’t marry you. You’re basing your proposal on a baby I’m not even sure we’ll ever get to meet.”

“O—K,” he said and scrambled to the kitchen. “We’re going to move on from here.” He flipped on the light and opened the freezer door. “C’mon in here. No more logic.”

He gave up on the rational approach. Seeing her slip into darkness faster than he could pull her out called for desperate measures. He stormed onto Plan B—the romance and ice cream approach—which was sure to work because chocolate was involved.

He snatched a banana from the fruit bowl and got the nuts out of the pantry. “This all right?”

“Sure.”

“Chocolate syrup?”

“Duh.”

“That’s my girl.” He pulled two spoons out of the drawer. “Let’s go.”

“Where are we going?”

“To the patio. It’s late so the mosquitos are gone, but I’ll light a citronella candle.”

She opened the door. “I thought I saw a patio out here but I was afraid to get too close in case it was off limits like the garage.”

“Nope. Patio’s all yours.”

“But stay out of the garage, right?”

“Yep.” He set the bowl on the rust-covered bistro table, lit the candle, and proceeded to his only other piece of outdoor furniture. “Have a seat and keep the glider from gliding, please.”

“Sure. I can see where that would be dangerous.”

“More like embarrassing. I usually make it a rule to not transfer to moving objects. If I’d known the lock mechanism was broken, me and Max wouldn’t have stolen this from my mother’s backyard.”

She laughed and took the spoon he offered. “Can it be fixed?”

“Probably. Unless something’s snapped off completely. In that case, we’d have to weld it and it’s not worth it. We haven’t had the chance to take a proper look.”

He settled in the seat. “OK, cuddle on up here to share this ice cream and prepare to be wooed. I have candlelight, chocolate, moonbeams... I would have flowers except that Mrs. Konchesky has a shotgun and doesn’t like people clipping her roses without permission.”

“Stay away from that old lady. She’s dangerous.”

“Aw... I think it’s sweet that you’re jealous.”

“I’m not jealous. Are you ready for your talk tomorrow?”

“I think so. It’s getting easier every week. I’m starting to feel more comfortable.”

“Good. Rebekah said there’s a box of my things in the office. I told the directors it was all right for you to pick it up.”

“I’ll get it.”

“I didn’t tell them I was here, but I told them you knew where to find me.”

He nodded and scraped a banana slice from the bottom of the bowl. Long quiet moments passed while they chipped away at the mountain of ice cream.

“Let me ask you something,” Rocky ventured again.

“I can’t marry you.”

He sucked the last of the chocolate off his spoon and ignored her comment. “I know we’re on a tight schedule here because of the baby and all, but when you agree to marry me, I’m going to want to ask your dad for your hand.”

“That is not gonna happen, Rocky. And don’t bother giving me the well-mannered Texas-boy-and-southern-gentleman speech again. If things had been different and we had gotten to that point, I still wouldn’t want you talking to my dad about my future.”

He took her spoon from her, dropped it into the bowl with a clank, and set it aside. “It’s time for you to be honest with me about your parents. You get all blustery and defiant whenever they come up. Wouldn’t they want to know what you’re facing? Wouldn’t they want to help?”

“Probably not.”

“Now see? You need to explain that. If we’re going to be married, I need to understand the family dynamic.”

She shot him a look that said she still wasn’t going to marry him, but that she might be ready to talk about her parents.

“All right.” She twisted a strand of hair around her index finger and then swept it away. It took another minute of lip-chewing and nail-biting before she started the explanation. “My parents are the pastors at a huge church in Dallas. They’ve been there for years. They travel, write books, and both have successful ministries. I grew up there in a nice home and had everything I needed.”

“That’s horrible, Gia. However did you survive?”

Her frosty glare nearly made his ice cream headache return.

“Sorry.”

“I had everything I needed—everything but personal attention from my parents. I am an only child. The beautiful daughter who sat on the right pew, wore the right Easter dress, and smiled, and did all the polite and cute things I was supposed to do to make us look like the perfect first family of a mega church.”

“And then...”

“And then one day I hit my breaking point and turned into one holy terror. I hit middle school and started a rebellion that is still one for the record books. I kissed bad boys in the church balcony and smoked cigarettes behind the fellowship hall. I sneaked out of church and learned about marijuana behind the convenience store right off the church grounds, and broke my good-behavior covenants on nearly every youth retreat and activity I attended. I had my first alcohol three minutes before the biggest Christmas pageant spectacular in Dallas. The zinger there is that my parents never knew. Why? Because I didn’t see them that day. They were busy with everything else. Someone told them my cheeks were bright pink, and I looked like I was going to throw up. Maybe I was sick. My parents sent the message I was nervous and would be OK. They didn’t check on me personally. So I found the boy who had vodka in a baby bottle and took another big swig.”

“How is it they were missing all these cries for help? I mean, I’m assuming that’s what you were doing, right? Trying to get your parents attention?”

“I imagine. You know the rule: negative attention is still attention. And it was so hard because they are really gifted pastors and leaders. They love Jesus, they love their people, and they’ll do anything for that church. They just didn’t know what to do with me. Especially when I acted out.”

“People can be great people, but not necessarily great parents.”

“I believe their answer was denial. So that’s what they did. They’d get calls from school and they’d blow it off. Gia’s impulsive, Gia’s high-strung—it won’t happen again. But they never really dealt with my potential drug and alcohol problems and sure never got to the root of it.”

“That’s rough.”

“I look back on that and sincerely think their plan was to get me through high school so they could ship me off to college and they wouldn’t have to deal with it. Out of sight, out of mind. Toss her in the water—sink or swim. She’ll grow up, she’ll figure it out, she’ll land on her feet.”

“I don’t want to make light of anything, but you did figure it out, right?”

“Yes, but it was a long, destructive journey. And everything I’ve already told you is not the worst of it.”

He put his arm around her. She snuggled closer and made herself comfortable against him.

“What’s the worst of it?”

“So I started my senior year of high school and two things happened. The first one was good. The directors at Towering Pines asked me if I wanted to apply for a junior counseling position that following summer. No pay, but room and board and lots of experience and training to possibly become a camp counselor. All I could think of was that I would get to leave home as soon as school was out. They had weekend retreats and training workshops all that year and I loved it. I was on my best behavior. I couldn’t believe someone was interested in what I knew about Jesus. I may have been out of control, but I’d been listening all those years and did know the Word. And when I was with the camp people, all that good stuff I knew was in there came out. I’d found a place to belong.”

“But something else happened your senior year.”

“Yes. I was struggling academically. I could do the work, but I didn’t want to. School bored me. I hated it, but I was trying to get through. My dad had an associate youth pastor whose wife was a teacher. I went to her classroom two days a week after class and she helped me with my work. Most days she took me home with her and I had dinner there. They were young, no kids yet. They used to tease that I’d be their go-to sitter as soon as they started a family. My parents had told them all my struggles and they were privy to my discipline issues at school, so I knew this guy’s job was to counsel me into making better, Biblical decisions.”

“But I’m guessing that’s not what he did.”

“Oh, no. Usually we went to his office—right off the dining room—after dinner. His wife was in the kitchen loading the dishwasher and listening to praise and worship music, and I was being chased around a couch in the room next door. It was so gross and despicable. I wasn’t a small child he could coax onto his lap and make a game out of it. I was full-grown and understood things so he blatantly shoved me against walls and groped at my private parts. He delivered my all-time favorite line by a rapist and pedophile: ‘I’m not going to force you, Giavanna. You’re going to have sex with me because you want to and will enjoy it.’ I threatened to tell my father. That pastor looked at me with cold eyes and simply said, ‘He won’t believe you.’”

Rocky pulled her closer still and stroked her hair. “Did you tell your father?”

“Yes.”

“What happened?”

“It was October. It was two weeks before the homecoming dance. I was already grounded and told I couldn’t go. I didn’t have a date anyway, but I was going to go with a group of friends. So I tell my father about his associate. And he kinda walks around his office and stares out his window and finally he turns around and says ‘What would you have me do with that information, Gia? This is a man’s career and ministry we’re talking about. You need to be careful with your stories. Someone could get hurt.’ I was shocked, but it’s not like I hadn’t told some pretty fanciful lies, so I knew he didn’t believe me. What’s worse, he said if I didn’t continue to get help from the guy’s wife and keep my grades up and graduate, that he wouldn’t let me go to camp when school was out. Then he gave me five hundred dollars.”

“What?”

“Yeah. Five hundred dollars. For homecoming and a pumpkin patch.”

“I thought you were grounded from homecoming. And what does this have to do with a pumpkin patch?”

“I
was
grounded. But I had asked him for money the day before because the other big church in town had a pumpkin patch. At camp training they were always having friendly competitions and games. It was my turn to come up with something. I was going to buy pumpkins after Halloween when they were next-to-nothing and take them to camp for an activity. They have a big open field out there so my thought was we would do our very own pumpkin smash and build devices to launch pumpkins.”