Ryan and I have been living together for three months. If he finds out I was calling Jake from his house, it would ruin everything. I don’t dare tell him the truth. I don’t even want him to know I saw Jake. I lay on top of him and kiss his stomach and then his chest. I look into his eyes to make it even more convincing. “You don’t have to worry. I’ll never talk to him again,” I tell him, as reassuring as possible. “I hate him.”
“So, you haven’t seen him since he left?” he asks again with his head tilted slightly.
He says this almost like an accusation, which I don’t like. I fear that he already knows the truth. Well, I can’t stop now. “I swear to God I haven’t talked to him,” I repeat even stronger, and crossing my heart for effect. This always works on my dad but never on my mom.
“Okay,” he murmurs looking directly into my eyes.
I don’t like this at all. It’s like he wants me to tell him the truth for some reason. I also sense he’s afraid to press too hard or I’ll leave. I put my arms around his neck, kiss his lips, and say, “You don’t believe me?”
I did my best to appear honest but I don’t think he bought it. I can’t put my finger on it but something’s different. For the first time since we met, I feel a distance between us. I kiss him again but when I open my mouth he pulls back a little, and looks right at me. He might not believe me but he drops the subject which suits me just fine. We never talk about it again.
Ryan takes me to San Antonio for our six-month anniversary. He made reservations at a hotel on the Riverwalk. The Riverwalk is a beautiful canal running through the middle of downtown with shops and restaurants on each side. People sit under umbrellas eating and drinking as boats carry passengers through the water. It can be quite romantic with the right person. We’re at a seafood restaurant that’s romantic, and elegant, and our table overlooks the water. We’re both dressed the part. He has on dark blue slacks, a blue sports coat, a bright white dress shirt, and a tie. I have on a red dress he bought me for Valentine’s Day and matching red heels. My hair is pulled back in a bun and my lips are bright red.
We each order steak and lobster. After the waiter brings our dessert, Ryan starts acting strange. He stops eating and fidgets in his chair like a child in church. This isn’t like him, and I don’t understand it. Everything’s been great lately. Did he somehow find out that I talked to Jake? Did he get his phone bill in the mail? Has he just grown tired of me? Is he breaking up with me? I don’t know what’s wrong, but this can’t be good. I set my spoon on the table and stare into eyes. “Ryan, are you okay?” I ask reaching for his hand.
He doesn’t give me his hand. Instead, he looks down at his lap. He’s having trouble talking. “Faith,” he begins, and then stops. His pause causes my heart to beat harder in my chest and my stomach to tighten. I brace for the worst. He gets up from his chair like he’s going to walk right out of the restaurant. My eyes are fixed on his every move. What have I’ve done, and what should I do now? Do I let him walk out? Should I take him in my arms? He stops at my chair, and kneels down on one knee. The minute I see him kneeling, I realize he’s not breaking up with me at all. It’s all so overwhelming.
He removes a small black box from his jacket pocket, and in front of everyone says, “Faith, I’m so in love with you. I want to spend the rest of my life with you. Will you marry me?”
I was so focused on Ryan that I didn’t even notice the three waiters and the waitress who had gathered behind him. It’s only now I notice that everyone around us has stopped eating so they can watch the whole thing unfold. My mouth is quivering and I cover my face with shaking hands to hide my tears. With my head still in my hands, so no one can see the black mascara running down my cheeks, I nod again and again. When I lower my hands, everyone sees my tears. I hold out my shaking hand for him to put the ring on. He has to steady it before he can slide it on. The ring sparkles like the brightest star in the sky. I’ve never seen a diamond this big. I grab each side of his face and bring his lips to mine. When I can finally talk, I cry, “Yes … I’ll marry you, Ryan,” to the applause of everyone around us.
Seven months later, we’re married. It’s not the wedding of two teenagers running away from our parents, but a real wedding, in a real church, with a real preacher, real flowers, a beautiful dress, a cake, and all our friends and family. My mother, father (who thinks Ryan hung the moon), and brother come for the wedding. Life is perfect. Everything bad that’s ever happened in my life now feels like it happened to someone else.
– CHAPTER 7 –
During the first year of our marriage, everything’s great. We’re both young, and together, we’re learning about life, love, and marriage. Our honeymoon continues month after month. Saying “my husband” feels like the sweetest poem coming from my lips, and hearing Ryan call me his wife is my heart’s desire. I quit my waitress job to take care of Ryan, our house, and our puppy. We get involved in our community church. I was never a big believer before but now I attend every Sunday.
We go to movies, plays, dinner, dancing, and hit every festival or concert in town. Ryan really likes old movies so we watch many of the classics like Casablanca, The Godfather, and It’s a Wonderful Life. Our favorite all-time movie is Gone with the Wind. We’ve watched it many times. Scarlett O’Hara is so beautiful, and her eyes are as blue as mine. She’s strong and she knows how to use her beauty and her charm to get whatever she wants. She goes through the worst of times but always comes out on top. She’s my all-time hero.
For our first anniversary, we fly to New York City. This is beyond my wildest dreams. How does a little girl from Georgia end up on Times Square looking up at monster billboards, scrolling lights, and towering skyscrapers? We take a tour bus around the city, getting on and off wherever we want. We stop at the Empire State Building, Macy’s Department Store, Chinatown, and Greenwich Village where we enjoy a wonderful lunch. We get off again at the World Trade Center. Both buildings will be erased from the map but not before we’re able to go to the top for an incredible view of the city.
On our second day, we ride a ferry out to the Statue of Liberty. We climb hundreds of steps around a spiraling staircase to reach the crown where we look out over the harbor. Next, we walk hand in hand through Central Park, which is nothing like I expected. I knew it was big but walking through it takes us most of the day. The park is full of colorful trees, sculptures, and statues and we stop to see all kinds of birds, squirrels, and other animals busy with their day. At some points, we see an incredible view of the city behind the trees but at other times, the city disappears, and it feels like we’re lost in a faraway forest.
We walk along a lake in the middle of the park, and through a tunnel that opens to a huge fountain, the Bethesda Fountain, with a giant angel on top. Ryan lets go of my hand, walks up to the water, and starts talking to a little girl who’s spinning in circles while blowing bubbles. I snap a picture of him with this pretty little girl. All I can think is how we need a child of our own. Four months before we got married, we agreed to have a baby. This is such a change from Jake who constantly asked, “Did you take your pill today?” It was just another reminder that he didn’t want to be with me.
Ryan and I have been trying for over a year but I’m still not pregnant. I’m worried I’ll never be able to give him the baby he wants. Surely he’ll divorce me.
When I look at the beautiful angel on top of the fountain, her wings are spread and her eyes seem to follow me as I walk closer and closer. She’s staring down like she wants to tell me something. I just started going to church, and as far as I know all angels are in the Bible. I take a few steps forward until I’m standing directly under her. In a whisper, so no one can hear, I look up and say, “What?”
Without moving her lips, I hear a magnificent voice declare, “I’ve given you everything you need to make you happy … if you don’t screw it up.”
I can’t believe what I just heard. I look around to see who else heard it. Ryan’s still playing with
the little girl, and everyone around us continues without so much as a pause. I know what I just heard but I start to wonder if it was just in my head. I look back at the angel, waiting for more words. “What?” I ask again.
I listen for her to say something more but she doesn’t say a word. It’s like the whole park has gone silent. She stares at me with a look of pure love. I look back at Ryan who has captured the attention of this darling little girl. I look back at the angel again and say, “I won’t; I promise.”
I never tell Ryan what I heard. I don’t tell anyone what I heard. No one will ever believe me if I tell them. Either way, I know what I heard. I’ll remember her words for the rest of my life.
Ryan comes back, takes my hand, and off we go. I look one last time over my shoulder but the angel simply watches me walk away. We walk down a sidewalk that’s as wide as most streets. I look at Ryan’s face, and again hear the words of the angel that are forever etched in my mind:
“I’ve given you everything you need to make you happy … if you don’t screw it up.”
Ryan sees me staring at him, and gives me that “what’d I do now?” look. I stand in front of him to stop him from taking another step. Looking directly at him with my lips almost touching his I promise, “I love you, baby. I’ll always love you.”
We walk down a sidewalk with a row of trees on each side, which creates a canopy for us to walk through. We pass one statue after another of writers and poets until we come to a statue of William Shakespeare … Yes, the William Shakespeare. I could stay sitting at this spot forever but we have to hurry back to our hotel in time to shower, change into our dress clothes, make our dinner reservations at a famous steakhouse, and then see our Broadway show.
After dinner. we walk down a sparkling street with one show after another advertising their reviews. I learn for the first time that there’s actually a street called Broadway. Our show is as grand and magical as I could ever imagine.
Before leaving the city we stop one last time at Times Square to see the same street we saw when we arrived, but now it’s nighttime and it’s bright, glittering, sparkling, and full of neon lights that keep the city alive. New York was an incredible anniversary. It would be the first of many.
When we arrive back home, I open the door to our house just like I’ve done many times before but this time I see it like I’m seeing it for the first time. We have a house, a nice yard, and a friendly little dog. We have everything except a little baby.
A month after returning from New York—when I saw that beautiful angel—I miss my period. Together we go to the store and buy a pregnancy test. Side by side, we stand in the bathroom waiting for the results like two children holding a lottery ticket waiting for the balls to drop from the box. “I’ve given you everything you need to make you happy,” the angel repeats again as our winning numbers are drawn.
Ryan lifts me off the floor, and swings me around like Rhett and Scarlett dancing at the ball. The sun is shining, the sky is blue, the birds are singing, and now we’re having a baby! I cry and it makes Ryan cry. We both tumble to the floor and lie there, holding each other.
“I love you,” we say at exactly the same time. Now all the love we have for each other we can give to our baby.
We celebrate at the nicest restaurant in Austin. He orders a bottle of expensive Champagne but changes it to a glass of wine when I remind him that I can’t drink while I’m pregnant. We toast red wine for him and cranberry juice for me. What I can’t drink, I make up for by eating. Nothing but the best for our sweet little baby.
– CHAPTER 8 –
When I was four years old, I opened the best Christmas present I could ever imagine—a plastic kitchen with more pots, pans, plates, and silverware than my mom’s kitchen. I had five baby dolls, and I couldn’t get enough of them. When my best friend would come over to play house, she’d get bored within an hour. She liked to play school but I hated that game. I couldn’t understand why you’d want to sit in a chair doing schoolwork when you could have so much more fun in the kitchen.
Now that I’m grown, I no longer have to pretend. I’ve turned Ryan’s plain house into a real home. Almost every day, Ryan comes home to a new surprise. Our taste in decorating isn’t exactly the same. He wants a modern, sleek home with leather couches, lighter walls, recessed lighting, cool lamps, and paintings throughout the house with weird shapes and colors. I want a country home with walls painted different colors, big comfy couches, pictures of farmhouses and landscapes, and knick-knacks everywhere. I want a country kitchen like my parents have.
I’ve turned his house into my house. I’ve changed it so much, we get into arguments because he thinks he’s losing the house he once liked. This becomes a source of friction, and causes the first ongoing argument between us.
“I like the house the way it is,” he says.
“Your house was fine for a bachelor pad, but we’re going to be a family now.”
“Fine, but I don’t want a country house,” he protests.
I’m determined not to give in. “I’m the one who has to stay here every day while you’re at work.”
“You don’t have to stay here,” he corrects me.
This seems like a slap in the face; like he’s taking a jab at me not working. “What’s that supposed to mean?”
“Nothing,” he says, “you act like I’m forcing you to stay home. You’re free to do whatever you want.”
“Well, I’m the one who stays here while you’re at work.” I clarify. “I’m the woman and the woman decorates the house. Your house is still here but I’m giving it a woman’s touch. Lord knows, it needs it.”
“Now what’s that supposed to mean?” he asks.
“Nothing. Why don’t we drag the video games back out and we’ll turn the kitchen back into your law library.”
“There was nothing wrong with my house,” he insists. “We just have different ideas for decorating.”
“Decorating! You call that decorating? A kitchen in an army base is better decorated.”
“We have to compromise,” he says, looking around the house that’s already full of my ideas. “How about you decorate the kitchen, the bedroom, and the laundry room. I’ll decorate the rest of the house?”
“The laundry room!” I say with a loud voice. With my eyes raised high, I shout, “Are you kidding me?”
Nothing he can say from this point forward can fix his laundry room remark. We both know he’s lost the fight. Any time he makes the slightest point I repeat, “Don’t worry, I’ll go to my laundry room.”
Finally, I agree to a compromise. “I’ll tell you what,” I say. “I’ll decorate the inside of the house, and you decorate the garage and the yard.”
“I bought this house,” he says. “I should have a say in how it looks.”
Wrong move number two. For such a smart man, he makes one mistake after another. If this were chess, his queen would be gone and his king is next.
“You bought this house?” I repeat. “I’m never going to hear the end of it, am I! You know what, I don’t want ‘your house’,” I yell, holding up two fingers in each hand to quote him. “Let’s sell your house, and buy our house.”
“We’re not going to buy another house,” he says in defeat.
Game … set … match. His king is now surrounded and the game is over. All he can do now is pick up the chessboard, and throw the pieces all over the room.
I won that round but the fight is far from over. We both know, however, that it won’t be a fair fight. It’s like a prize heavyweight fighter going into the ring with an amateur—except the prizefighter has his hands tied behind his back … his shoelaces tied together … and he’s blindfolded. You see, Ryan goes to work every day, and I’m free to do whatever I please. For all practical purposes, the battle is over.
Ryan does manage to throw an impressive punch now and then, like the day he put up a photo of his mother (which was a low blow.) Another time, he hung some kind of picture with crazy shap
es and colors but it quietly disappeared without him even noticing. No, all he can do now is sit in the middle of the ring and complain to a referee who doesn’t exist. It’s just a matter of time before the bell rings at the ten count.
Eventually, the walls in the kitchen that were once beige are yellow. There’s flowery blue trim running along the ceiling. The counters are full of ceramic chickens, roosters, baskets with eggs, and country cookbooks. There are pictures of country cottages on the walls, a calendar with farmhouses from around the country, and pots and pans hanging from the ceiling.
The living room is now dark maroon, and the walls are full of family photos, Norman Rockwell prints, plants in the windowsills, and beautiful decorations right out of my Better Homes and Garden magazines. The law books that once filled the shelves are back at his office and replaced with more family photos, cookbooks, baby angels, and knick-knacks of every size, kind, and color. The video games that were scattered on the coffee table are stored away in the attic. At some point, Ryan stopped playing video games altogether, which suits me just fine. I finally have the house I always wanted.
– CHAPTER 9 –
My pregnancy only brings us closer together. Ryan goes to every doctor’s appointment, ultrasound, Lamaze class, and shopping spree like he’s the one having the baby. The baby’s room becomes a magical wonderland we put together ourselves.
Ryan is more attracted to me the bigger I get, which I don’t understand but I’m not complaining. My hormone burners are turned on high, and I’m there for the taking every time he comes home from work. It seems like forever until six o’clock finally rolls around and we’re back in bed, or the sofa, or the kitchen counter, or wherever. Knowing he wants me is the most important thing in my life right now. We couldn’t be happier.
When I’m eight months pregnant, and we’re eating at a restaurant, I ask Ryan the question I should have asked long ago: “How many kids do you want?”
The Killing of Faith: A Suspense Thriller You Won't Soon Forget. (The Killing of Faith Series Book 1) Page 5