Chapter Nineteen

Diana

"YOU'RE SURE ABOUT this?" Thomas whispers.

I nod.

"We can always plan a party for us after, too," he assures me. "Lisa and Mother Catherine will probably beg you to let them, actually. They've become quite fond of you."

Like a pet, I think but don't say.

We walk with Father Oliver to the church, and my legs hurt a bit from the lack of exercise, but I dare not complain. Not now.

Inside, Lisa wears a loose-fitting red dress to not agitate her wounds, and she and Catherine set up bouquets of daffodils and forget-me-knots.

"What did I tell you?" Thomas said to me with a smile. "They must have rushed to our florist for these."

"We did and we are so happy!" Catherine calls to him.

Lisa nods, her eyes tired from her lashing but she manages a smile. "I have a sister-in-law. Funny, I never saw my brother as a settling down type."

"You know God can change a person's very soul," Oliver tells her. "We're still waiting for Him to act on you, though."

Thomas covers up a laugh but it escapes, earning him a death glare from his sister.

She walks up to me and gives me a hug, which shocks me. "I'm sorry I haven't been very nice. I'm working on it, and I'm glad my brother's training worked."

"We will file for a marriage certificate from the government," Oliver tells me. "Sadly, while we would prefer not to, if worse should ever come to the worst, it is best to ensure those heathens cannot question yours or any union within the community."

I nod; I had no idea a marriage certificate was even needed, and I realize there is so much about the world I still don't know.

"Hey." Thomas runs a hand through my hair. "Whatever worried you just now, it's all right. We will work on it all … together."

I nod and smile at him. I believe him.

"If we can proceed?" Oliver asks, gesturing to us to come to the altar. "Have you ever been to church in the outside world, Diana?"

"We were Catholic; I was Confirmed not long before my father passed away," I reply.

He nods. "So you understand the act of Communion; the consumption of the Body and Blood of Christ. We do not do it weekly here. Here, it is symbolic of becoming one in body and soul in marriage."

He produces what I assume is holy water and it's confirmed when Thomas takes it and makes the Sign of the Cross, so I do the same.

Father Oliver then produces the wafer, beginning to speak.

"In Him, two become one. Of one flesh, one spirit, one mind. A bond for eternity no man can put asunder. The Body and Blood shall bind you both forevermore to each other, and in steadfast service to the First Church of the New Disciples."

He places the wafer in each of our hands and I let it dissolve on my tongue as I was taught to do eleven years ago.

Father Oliver then pours a small measure of wine into a golden goblet, also similar to the one my old church used. But he doesn't stop there. He also produces a small, gold-hilted dagger that appears to match the cup.

" For the life of the flesh is in the blood: and I have given it to you upon the altar to make an atonement for your souls: for it is the blood that maketh an atonement for the soul ," he recites. "Thomas, your hand."

Thomas holds his hand out, palm up, and Father Oliver pricks his fingertip with the blade. Blood wells up, and Oliver turns the finger so the blood drips into the goblet.

Thomas licks his fingertip to stop the bleeding and my mind and body decide to go to war: my body likes the action, my mind is horrified that I'm going to drink literal blood .

"Diana?" Father Oliver looks at me expectantly.

"The pain is fine; you'll like it," Thomas promises me, resting a hand on the middle of my back.

I nod and hold my right hand out, and the blade pierces the skin of my index finger. It doesn't hurt much, not even when the blood wells up. Oliver turns my hand over and lets three drops fall into the goblet before releasing me.

Do I just do what Thomas did to clean the blood?

I don't have to ponder, as my very-near-future-husband takes my hand in his and gently kisses the blood away. All of a sudden, I need to remember how to breathe and that my knees are solid, not made of jelly.

Thomas must see the look in my eyes, because he smiles knowingly before dropping my hand. There's a bit of blood on his lower lip and he licks it away.

"The Blood of Christ; the blood of union," Father Oliver says, offering the goblet to Thomas, who takes it and drinks. When he removes it from his lips, they're stained just a bit with red once more.

My turn.

My last chance.

I take the goblet and drink, thankfully not tasting anything except wine, which I realize quickly I do not like.

" Charity suffereth long, and is kind; charity envieth not; charity vaunteth not itself, is not puffed up. Doth not behave itself unseemly, seeketh not her own, is not easily provoked, thinketh no evil. Rejoiceth not in iniquity, but rejoiceth in the truth. Beareth all things, believeth all things, hopeth all things, endureth all things. Charity never faileth: but whether there be prophecies, they shall fail; whether there be tongues, they shall cease; whether there be knowledge, it shall vanish away.

"So says the Lord. We gladly welcome our new member into the community, Diana Hill, heretofore known as Diana Hansen, as she joins with our esteemed Brother Thomas Hansen in holy matrimony.

"The Lord sent our future pastor the perfect bride to mold, to shape, to keep, and to love. Let neither party forget the blessings the Lord has given them; let them forever rejoice in the divine love, hard-won and pure.

"Thomas, do you take Diana to be your spouse, from here to forevermore, including in the arms of the Lord in Heaven? To cherish, protect, and honor; to punish and to reward?"

Thomas looks at me, not Father Oliver, and says, "I do. Forevermore."

"Do you, Diana, take Thomas as your spouse, from here to forevermore, including in the arms of the Lord in Heaven? To cherish, respect, and honor; to walk beside and surrender?"

I wait for panic to hit, to tell me to run, but all I feel … is peace.

This is right.

"I do. Forevermore."

"By the power of our Lord Jesus Christ, I pronounce you wed in the eyes of God, Heaven, and the church. You may claim your first kiss."

And it is my first kiss. No one ever, and I mean ever , kissed me. Maybe Thomas knows this, because he is gentle, his beard actually soft against my skin. One hand holds my waist, the other tilts my head just right to reach him.

I could melt right into him and nearly do, my body pressed as close as possible. My mind goes to a movie I watched as a child, The Princess Diaries , where the main character spoke of how she wanted her first kiss to be.

This is all of that and more.

I almost wish time could stop and leave us here. Had I known this gentleness awaited me, I'd have weathered the pain better.

He pulls away and whispers, "You were worth working and fighting for, my dove."

"Thank you for working on me," I reply.

Lisa and Mother Catherine interrupt us to give us warm hugs, while Father Oliver looks on, smiling.

When Lisa lets her brother go, she hugs me, and I am careful of her hidden wounds. As she pulls away, she says, "Now, a little birdie told me you have one final task to join your souls as one and let go of your past."

I nod and she hugs me again.

"Good luck, Sister. I am glad I can help you."

Thomas walks me back to his house. Our house? I guess it is ours.

Before we enter, he sweeps me into his arms and carries me over the threshold before setting me down in the foyer.

"I had to be a little cheesy, forgive me," he says as he locks the door. Turning to me, his eyes glitter in the dim, late afternoon light. It spills in from the window, making his blond curls look like a halo of Heavenly fire.

Before I can think any further, he pins me to the nearest wall, hands on my wrists to keep me there, before he kisses me again, and this is the opposite of gentle, yet not forceful.

His tongue slips between my lips and I whimper, wanting more of this. Of him. Wanting him to erase all the others who ever came before him and be the only one my body knows or welcomes.

He bites down on my bottom lip and the sting makes me involuntarily arch my hips to his. He chuckles, licking the wound before pulling away.

"I had to get that out of my system," he admits. "I may be a man of God, but at the end of the day, I am still flesh and blood."

I can feel it, the heat of his blood, the hardness of flesh, through our clothes. And yet I'm not scared.

"Come on, let's get you sturdier shoes and a jacket. We have to be somewhere by sundown, and it's nearly here."