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If it hadn’t been for the peace the church offered me, I wouldn’t have been able to walk alongside her. Or even taken a closer look at her red-rimmed eyes. How her sage green veiled in sadness, resignation.
I could work with hurt and hatred, but not withthat.
The priest, too, saw the change in Katia. His gaze often shifted to her, waiting for her to speak her mind, her troubles. Katia didn’t. She only smiled and shook her head at his questions as if she had nothing more to offer.
Her light and spirit had dimmed.
“Miss Katia.” Father pulled her attention back to him. “Lucca.”
“Father,” we both said, and she softly smiled.
“Let’s talk openly. If not in the house of God, where else?”
With her eyes low on the ground, her head inclined my way.
Was she questioning how open she could be? How much could she say?
I couldn’t read her.
“Marriage in our church is more than a pretty ceremony and fleeting feelings,” he began, and Katia turned to him. “It’s a sacramental marriage. A lifelong commitment to each other. One that is only dissolved by death. A marriage between you both and God.”
The priest’s eyes bounced between us.
“Are you willing to continue with this knowledge?” he asked Katia.
I couldn’t face her. I couldn’t see the doubt in her face, the dread. But mostly, I couldn’t face her after knowing the sin I’d committed by taking her free will. By taking on an agreement that meant a commitment until death.
Even then, there was no turning back. She was mine. My queen, my future wife.
“Yes, Father.”
My body relaxed.
“You are entering and accepting this marriage, this vow without force or pressure?”
Bile rose as my skin crawled, and the longer Katia took to reply, the deeper I fell with worry. This was the place she held the most power. Then I felt her touch. Her fingertips slid over my forearms, gently trailing down until her hand curled with mine. I stared at our joined hands. My mother’s ring on her delicate finger, the place it belonged.
I cast a look at her.
Katia’s smile reached her gleaming eyes. Small tight lines formed at the ends of her brows as her teeth shone brightly. And with a glowing radiance, she said, “It’s what I want, Father.”
She didn’t answer the question.
Want, what a dangerous word with endless meaning.
We could always want, even if it hurt. Even if we wished for a different outcome.
The priest carefully watched her. It didn’t help that I sat quietly without a smile to match hers. I only looked ahead at the brick wall with a hammering heart.
“Lucca?” he asked.
“Without force or pressure,” I replied.
The priest nodded and quickly moved back to Katia. Her hand twitched underneath mine as she couldn’t flee from his attention.
I placed my free hand over hers, caging her between both of mine.
“And you both are willing to conceive children?”
