Page 37 of From Ice to Home
Slamming the door shut, the glove compartment pops open with a soft click. Out tumbles my golden wedding band, rolling onto the passenger seat, glinting in the sunlight. I reach for the ring, the cool metal slipping between my fingers as I hover it above my ring finger. I want to wear it again, to feel its weight on my finger, to feel like I’ve done something right and that I have some sort of footing going into this conversation.
But that would be a lie.
I have no idea what I’m doing and I haven’t been a wife to Lucas. Not in any way, shape or form.
So, instead I put it back into the glove compartment, wiping yet another tear with the tissue. Tossing it onto the passenger seat, I send up a silent prayer filled with hope and desperation.
Please, Father, help me say the right things. Help me to make this right in a way that glorifies You.
Taking a deep breath, I steel myself as I put my car in drive and head down the street to the Walker Family Farm.
Driving down the familiar gravel lane, I can’t help but notice how the trees have grown, their branches stretching wider and taller than the last time I was here. The sight makes my chest ache with memories of afternoons spent walking along these lanes, hand in hand with Lucas. Getting over him has been difficult these past five years. Especially since nothing went wrong between us. I just knew that we had to be apart for the next part in our lives. I didn’t know if we would ever get together again. There’s a small part of me that entertained the idea whenever I let my guard down, but even then I never thought it would actually happen. I believed the Lord had a different plan for both of us.
I pull into the driveway just as Lucas steps around the corner of the house. He’s wearing faded jeans and a grease-streaked shirt, the fabric stretched across broad shoulders that weren’t quite so defined the last time I saw him like this. A battered baseball cap sits low on his head, dark hair curling at the edges, still tousled from sweat. His eyes are piercing as his gaze locks onto me. I used to believe that look could never hold anything but laughter when it landed on me. This morning, I caught a glimpse of that warmth, until I spoke the words that extinguished it.
A giant Saint Bernard pads lazily at his heels, its tail wagging at the sight of me. Lucas, on the other hand, doesn’t look happy in the least. His knuckles turn white as he grips the toolbox in his hand. He radiates frustration, the sharp set of his jaw a clear sign of just how unwelcome I am. My stomach twists as I realize I haven’t seen him this angry…ever.
The boy I fell in love with is still there, beneath the grease stains and guarded scowl. But he’s not just that boy anymore.He’s the man who’s built his life without me. A man I haven’t truly spoken to in five years.
My hands tighten around the steering wheel as I take a moment to inhale deeply before stepping out of my car. The gravel crunches beneath my shoes, tense silence stretching between us with each step I take in his direction. He doesn’t make a move toward me. The friendly dog instead pads over and nudges my hand to earn a few ear scratches. Despite everything, I bend down and oblige the furry creature, looking up and finding a scowl playing on Lucas’s face.
“What are you doing here, Hannah?” he demands, his voice thick with anger and hurt. “I thought we agreed this was over. Is that not the way we left things?”
This morning he left after telling me that he would handle things with his lawyers in New York. The very thought of things going that far, sent bolts of fear through me—fear that’s only intensifying with expression of anger on his part.
“Lucas, please. Can we just talk about this? The way we left things…” I trail off, my voice barely audible over the sudden rush of wind, teasing loose strands of hair into my face. I know I’m the one who cut him off this morning, the one who didn’t want to take the time to talk things through, but I’m here now. That has to count for something.
Because I believe that no matter how we started, how hard things are now, we believe in the same things. We believe in the same God.
I straighten and the dog whines a little, looking between me and Lucas.
Lucas’s lips press into a tight line as he exhales through his nose, shaking his head.
“You were pretty clear this morning.” His words are clipped, almost detached, but his eyes flash with something raw, something deeper than anger.
He turns abruptly, striding toward the porch withmeasured, deliberate steps. Each one feels like a door slamming shut, and panic surges through me. I lunge forward, reaching out to grab his arm.
“Wait,” I gasp, my fingers curling around the worn fabric of his sleeve.
He stops short and spins to face me, his movement swift and sharp. The pain in his eyes catches me off guard, deeper and harsher than the anger I expected. His jaw clenches as he glances at my hand on his arm.
“What do you want from me, Hannah?” He asks, the words almost ripped from him.
His words steal the breath from my lungs, makes my heart twist, but I refuse to let go.
“I’m sorry about this morning,” my words spill out. “I don’t know what I was thinking. I didn’t want to face the decision we made, but I know I…I can’t keep ignoring what happened.” I take another step closer, my heart racing as I stare into the eyes of the man who stole my heart so long ago, urging him to not give up on me right now.
His laugh is devoid of humor as he pulls his arms free, taking another step away from me.
“Ignoring it? You’ve done more than ignore it. You basically told me you wanted to erase what we did.” He shakes his head, his dark eyes piercing as he pins me with his gaze. “Did it ever occur to you that maybe I needed to talk about it? That maybe I had a say in the consequences of our decision? Or is this just about what you want?”
“Lucas—“
“No.” He drops the toolbox with more force than necessary. His head dips for a moment as he exhales sharply before looking back at me. “Do you even realize what you did? What it’s been like for me, sitting with this alone? Wondering if you’re even thinking about it at all, or if you’ve already decided this was some mistake you’d rather forget?”
His voice rises, the frustration spilling over. His hands curl into fists at his sides, despite the slight tremble in his shoulders. He’s hurting…and it’s all because of me.
“Luke, I thought about you. Every single minute of this week and every day before that,” I tell him the truth. “That’s why I couldn’t talk to you, there was nothing I could say that could fix what I broke. I knew what I did to you. I knew what I took from you, I disrupted your whole life. I’ve prayed about us…” my voice starts to wobble, thinking about all the prayers I’ve prayed about Lucas. I’ve spent hours, months, years praying through the pain. And in the end I stopped.
