Read Online The Snow Angel by Glenn Beck, Nicole Baart - Free Book Online
Authors: Glenn Beck, Nicole Baart
Ads: Link
doors to the sanctuary opened for us, and Max and I began our slow march down the aisle.
The processional seemed to take a lifetime, and the closer I got to Cyrus the farther away I felt from everything I knew. I wasn’t regretting my decision as much as I was stunned that I had chosen to ignore Max and Elena—and my father—when they tried to share their reservations about Cyrus Price. What if they were right? What if instead of wedded bliss my future only held a time when this would all be over? When I would be done?
It couldn’t be. Everyone else had to be wrong. I didn’t deserve Cyrus, he was too good for a blue-collar girl likeme. A girl who came from such brokenness. And still, there he stood at the front of the church, watching me come with a lopsided, knowing smirk. I blushed at the fire in his eyes, the surfer-boy sweep of his sandy hair, and the sharp line of his angled jaw. He was beautiful, and he was mine.
By the time Max and I reached the end of the long aisle, I was nearly bursting with anticipation. Marrying Cyrus was my own fairytale come true, and Max’s words were all but forgotten when my groom reached for my hand. But before Max let me go, he leaned toward Cyrus and gave him a sort of one-armed embrace. The three of us were pulled into a huddle, a place where the only thing we could hear was the sound of our own breathing. I’m sure it was a touching sight for all of our family and friends gathered in the pews.
It wasn’t touching from where I stood. Max glared at Cyrus and Cyrus glared back. Then my gray-haired defender gave my soon-to-be husband a crisp smile and said, “I’m watching you.”
In the circle of their arms, there was a split second of hushed silence. Less than a heartbeat of stillness during which Cyrus’s eyes flinted with something that looked very much like fear. I could almost imagine him as a little boy, caught redhanded in the act of doing something deplorable. And Max had his number. But just as quickly asthe expression flared, it dulled. Cyrus licked his lips as if he longed to spit at Max’s feet, but instead he turned to me. He gave me a brilliant, heart-stopping smile and pulled me toward him. My fingers slipped from Max’s arm, and just like that my fate was sealed.
The rest of the ceremony was a blur, but I’ll never forget what Cyrus said the moment we burst through the back doors of the church. Birdseed anointed our heads and the train of my hand-stitched dress was thrown over my arm so that I could run down the steps and into my new life. I was so caught up in the music and the tears, the vows we had shared, that I had all but forgotten Max and what he had said. But Cyrus hadn’t. My toe hadn’t yet graced the first stair when Cyrus put his mouth to my ear and whispered viciously, “You will never speak to that man again. Ever.”
Never. The word cut like a knife, slicing away what had been and what would be. Separating me from the closest thing I had to a father. Cyrus had already put the final nail in the coffin of my relationship with my dad. Now this?
In the beginning I thought that Cyrus would soften. That there would come a day when he would realize that he had been overreacting, and that Max and Elena meant the world to me. But he didn’t back down. Even when I lost the baby and couldn’t stop crying for days, he refused to let me see the couple that I considered my family.
So I lied. I snuck out to see them, and when Cyrus found out he hit me.
It was the first time he ever raised a hand against me, and though the unanticipated blow lashed straight through my wounded heart, I understood why he did it. I had defied him, hadn’t I? I had done the one thing he asked me not to do.
It was a slap. Nothing, really.
Maybe Max thought I would run then. Maybe he thought I would be done. But I had been hurt before. I think Max underestimated my ability to pick myself up and keep going. Done? Far from it.
But now, over a decade later, to hear my
The processional seemed to take a lifetime, and the closer I got to Cyrus the farther away I felt from everything I knew. I wasn’t regretting my decision as much as I was stunned that I had chosen to ignore Max and Elena—and my father—when they tried to share their reservations about Cyrus Price. What if they were right? What if instead of wedded bliss my future only held a time when this would all be over? When I would be done?
It couldn’t be. Everyone else had to be wrong. I didn’t deserve Cyrus, he was too good for a blue-collar girl likeme. A girl who came from such brokenness. And still, there he stood at the front of the church, watching me come with a lopsided, knowing smirk. I blushed at the fire in his eyes, the surfer-boy sweep of his sandy hair, and the sharp line of his angled jaw. He was beautiful, and he was mine.
By the time Max and I reached the end of the long aisle, I was nearly bursting with anticipation. Marrying Cyrus was my own fairytale come true, and Max’s words were all but forgotten when my groom reached for my hand. But before Max let me go, he leaned toward Cyrus and gave him a sort of one-armed embrace. The three of us were pulled into a huddle, a place where the only thing we could hear was the sound of our own breathing. I’m sure it was a touching sight for all of our family and friends gathered in the pews.
It wasn’t touching from where I stood. Max glared at Cyrus and Cyrus glared back. Then my gray-haired defender gave my soon-to-be husband a crisp smile and said, “I’m watching you.”
In the circle of their arms, there was a split second of hushed silence. Less than a heartbeat of stillness during which Cyrus’s eyes flinted with something that looked very much like fear. I could almost imagine him as a little boy, caught redhanded in the act of doing something deplorable. And Max had his number. But just as quickly asthe expression flared, it dulled. Cyrus licked his lips as if he longed to spit at Max’s feet, but instead he turned to me. He gave me a brilliant, heart-stopping smile and pulled me toward him. My fingers slipped from Max’s arm, and just like that my fate was sealed.
The rest of the ceremony was a blur, but I’ll never forget what Cyrus said the moment we burst through the back doors of the church. Birdseed anointed our heads and the train of my hand-stitched dress was thrown over my arm so that I could run down the steps and into my new life. I was so caught up in the music and the tears, the vows we had shared, that I had all but forgotten Max and what he had said. But Cyrus hadn’t. My toe hadn’t yet graced the first stair when Cyrus put his mouth to my ear and whispered viciously, “You will never speak to that man again. Ever.”
Never. The word cut like a knife, slicing away what had been and what would be. Separating me from the closest thing I had to a father. Cyrus had already put the final nail in the coffin of my relationship with my dad. Now this?
In the beginning I thought that Cyrus would soften. That there would come a day when he would realize that he had been overreacting, and that Max and Elena meant the world to me. But he didn’t back down. Even when I lost the baby and couldn’t stop crying for days, he refused to let me see the couple that I considered my family.
So I lied. I snuck out to see them, and when Cyrus found out he hit me.
It was the first time he ever raised a hand against me, and though the unanticipated blow lashed straight through my wounded heart, I understood why he did it. I had defied him, hadn’t I? I had done the one thing he asked me not to do.
It was a slap. Nothing, really.
Maybe Max thought I would run then. Maybe he thought I would be done. But I had been hurt before. I think Max underestimated my ability to pick myself up and keep going. Done? Far from it.
But now, over a decade later, to hear my
Similar Books
