Chapter 14 #2
His father handed him another staple. “She didn’t run because she didn’t love me. She ran because she did love me, and she was terrified she would hurt me later.”
Mark stared at the staple in his palm. “That still hurt you.”
“It did.” His father took the hammer gently from Mark’s hand and drove the staple in himself.
“I won’t dress that up. Standing in that church, waiting, wondering if something terrible had happened, then realizing she wasn’t coming…
that hurt. My pride took a hit. My heart took a bigger one.
I was angry at her parents, angry at the timing, angry at the whole mess. ”
“Were you angry at her?”
His father looked at him then. “Some. I loved her too much not to be hurt, and hurt has a way of looking for someone to blame, but by the time I found her, anger wasn’t the strongest thing left.”
“What was?”
“Love.” His father’s answer came without hesitation. “I brought her pizza.”
Mark blinked. “Pizza.”
“She needed to eat.”
“You were supposed to get married that day, and you brought her pizza?”
“She had missed the wedding. No sense making her miss supper too.”
Mark let out a surprised laugh, but it faded almost as quickly as it came.
His father’s mouth softened. “I told her if she wasn’t ready to marry me that day, then we wouldn’t get married that day.
If she wasn’t ready for a while, I would wait.
If she was never ready, we would face that too, though I prayed we wouldn’t have to.
I wasn’t noble every second, Mark. Don’t turn me into stained glass.
I was hurt and scared. I wanted to fix everything faster than it could be fixed, and I made some foolish attempts at helping her parents that went about as well as you’d expect, but I knew I didn’t want a wedding more than I wanted your mother. ”
Mark looked away.
His father picked up the next fence stay and attached it between the strands. “A wedding is a day, but marriage is a life. Love is not proved because nobody gets scared. Sometimes love is proved because someone gets scared, and the other person doesn’t use that fear as a weapon.”
Mark worked the wire into the stay, needing the motion. “Jenna wasn’t scared. She left because the future I thought we were building wasn’t the one she wanted.”
His father nodded. “That happens too.”
“I thought that meant I’d been wrong about everything.”
“Maybe it meant you were wrong about Jenna or you two were wrong for each other.” His father said it gently. “It didn’t mean you were wrong to want a future.”
Mark swallowed and reached for another stay.
Together, they tightened the fence, checked the wires, and walked the line to make sure the sag was gone. The new post stood straight now, braced by packed dirt and gravel, the wire pulled true across it. It would hold.
At least this repair had a clean answer.
His father tested the middle strand and nodded. “Good.”
Mark hooked the fencing pliers back onto his belt. “So what am I supposed to do?”
His father picked up the old, rotted post and carried it toward the truck. “About Natalie?”
Mark followed with the bucket of bent staples. “About any of it.”
“Start by telling the truth.” His father loaded the old post into the truck bed and wiped his hands on his jeans.
“Not necessarily to the whole town. Lord knows the whole town thinks it owns every romance inside the county line, but tell yourself the truth, and when the time is right, tell her too.”
“What if she doesn’t want more? She has her own reasons for wanting pressure off her back too.”
“Then you’ll hurt.” His father looked at him plainly. “I won’t lie to you about that.” He rested a hand on the truck bed. “But you’re already hurting some, aren’t you? Trying not to want something can wear a man down just as much as wanting it.”
Mark stared across the pasture. The cattle had drifted closer now, drawn by curiosity and the possibility that humans had done something worth damaging later. The fence stood between them and the road, strong again because someone had admitted the old post was done pretending to hold.
“I don’t know if I’m ready,” Mark said.
His father came to stand beside him. “Ready is a slippery thing. Your mother wasn’t ready in August. She was ready in September. The love was there both times.”
Mark glanced at him. “You forgave her that easily?”
“It wasn’t easy.” His father’s gaze stayed on the pasture. “It was daily. Then weekly. Then one day, I realized I wasn’t carrying the hurt around anymore. Your mother carried her own sorrow over it too. She didn’t need me adding stones to her load.”
The words made Mark think of Natalie holding Mrs. Barlow’s casserole, her cheeks flushed, her eyes bright with embarrassment. He thought of the way she had whispered that this was supposed to be temporary. Honestly, he wasn’t sure that either of them had sounded convinced.
His father nudged his shoulder against Mark’s. “You don’t have to decide your whole life before Christmas, son.”
“I know.”
“But don’t decide against joy just because the last plan fell apart.”
Mark looked at him, and for a moment, he saw not only his father but the young man who had stood in a church waiting for a bride who never came and then found her and brought her pizza because love cared whether she had eaten.
That kind of love was steadier than pride. Stronger too.
Mark drew in a slow breath, the cool air filling his lungs. “I almost let the mistletoe be enough of an excuse to kiss her.”
His father smiled. “Well, if you want an excuse to kiss her in public to keep up the charade, I’m sure your brothers won’t mind obliging.”
“No!”
His father laughed.
Mark shook his head, but he was smiling a little. “You’re enjoying this.”
“I’m your father. I’m allowed to enjoy the parts that don’t involve actual suffering.” His father clapped him once on the shoulder then turned toward the truck cab. “Come on. Your mother packed sandwiches, and if we don’t eat them, she’ll know.”
“She always knows.”
“She does. Another reason I married her.”
Mark followed him to the truck, but before climbing in, he looked back at the repaired fence. One bad post had made the whole line sag. One honest repair had pulled it straight again.
He was not foolish enough to think hearts worked exactly like fences.
Still, as his father started the truck and the engine rumbled to life, Mark found himself thinking that maybe wanting Natalie was not the dangerous part.
Maybe pretending he did not was.