Page 21 of From Ice to Home (The Heart of a Ranger #1)

“Why do you look so surprised?” my mom asks, her lips quirking upwards as she sips at her tea.

I shrug, glancing toward the window. I don’t know why I’m surprised, not really. Of course my parents would have prayed for me, and for Lucas too. I just didn’t know they prayed for our future. I didn’t think they hoped for a future for the two of us.

Maybe if I tell her what we did, she wouldn’t react the way I think she would. Perhaps she wouldn’t be disappointed in me. Glancing at my mother, a small encouraging smile spreads on her lips.

I look so much like her—we have the same blonde hair and the same green eyes. I’ve always looked up to her and the way she’s handled this home and her children. Her relationship with my father has always been so beautiful to me and I’ve always prayed that I might have a marriage like my parents.

And what do I have now? Something that’s so far away from what they have. It seems impossible to ever get where they are.

I swallow, casting my eyes down to where my fingers are clutching my mug.

“I just somehow managed to make a mess of things and I’m not sure how to fix it,” I admit. My voice feels fragile, like it might crack under the weight of what I’m carrying. “Lucas is…he’s always been…” I trail off, not sure how to finish those sentences.

“He’s your first love,” my mom finishes for me, her tone understanding, no trace of judgment.

“Yes, he is.” My voice is soft, almost a whisper, tugging at feelings I’ve long buried.

“That’s not nothing, Hannah. The two of you have history, and it’s something that can’t ever be erased no matter how much time passes.”

Gripping my mug even harder, I swallow again.

The truth is right there, sitting heavy on my tongue, and I know this would be the moment to spill it—to confess everything to my mother.

But before I can open my mouth and tell her what happened, she reaches across the bed and squeezes my hand, grounding me.

“Hannah, I haven’t shared this with any of you…

for obvious reasons, but seeing you after Lucas stopped by…

” She shakes her head as if trying to clear the thoughts away, then exhales deeply.

“I don’t know what’s going on between you and Lucas right now, but I want to tell you that relationships aren’t always easy.

Your dad and I… we almost didn’t make it through our first year of marriage. ”

Her words hit me hard. My eyes widen at her revelation, disbelief filling me. It’s hard to think there was a time when my parents weren’t together, much less a time where they may have had so much trouble that they thought about ending their relationship.

“You and Dad?” I manage to croak.

She nods, a small knowing smile tugging at her lips.

“I know, it’s hard to believe. Back then, I was a new believer, and your dad…

he’s always had such a deep relationship with God.

We thought we knew what we wanted and how everything worked in a marriage.

How could we not? He was a young pastor and I was his wife. ”

She pauses, the weight of those words filling the space between us. Hearing this makes their relationship…real.

“Things were bumpy there for a while. No matter how hard we tried, we couldn’t seem to say the right things to each other. We were like two trains on separate tracks—both of us believing our own path was the most important.”

Her eyes fill with tears before she looks into her mug. She takes a sip of her tea, gathering herself before continuing.

“One night, after we had a bad argument, I got in my car. I wanted to leave. Somehow, I had convinced myself that it was for the best. I didn’t want to hold him back in his ministry anymore, and I thought if I left, he wouldn’t hold me back either.”

Her fingers tap against her mug, but she keeps her eyes on me.

“My car wouldn’t start. Which was strange because I had it serviced just the week before. In hindsight, it was probably all part of God’s plan. Your dad came out and saw me sitting in the driveway, tears streaming down my face as I hit the steering wheel, too angry to do anything else.”

She lets out a soft laugh, shaking her head.

“I remember wanting to punch him when he walked around to the driver’s side, his jaw all tight as he scowled at me,” she says, a laugh bubbling from her lips.

She leans in slightly, whispering, “I had a slight issue with anger back then. Anway, when he dipped his head into the car, he said ‘You know you can’t leave. We promised, Kate.’”

I stare at her, barely breathing. Imagining my dad, always so calm and steadfast, and my mom, the epitome of gentleness—fighting with each other, arguing to the point where they want to give up on their marriage—it feels surreal and utterly impossible.

“I told him it was just a contract, that we signed a piece of paper,” she says, her voice soft as she casts her eyes down, clearly still some semblance of guilt or shame lingering. “I told him that’s all it was.”

I can’t believe my mom would ever say something like that to my dad. It’s hard to think the woman in front of me, the woman who goes above and beyond for her children and her husband ever thought about leaving.

“What did Dad say?” I whisper, leaning in.

She looks up, the look in her eyes turning to a picture of pure love. “He agreed with me,” she takes a minute, the frown on my face growing with each passing second. “The marriage contract we signed was nothing more than a piece of paper. ”

My eyes widen in disbelief.

“Your dad then reminded me that what mattered most was the promise we made, in front of God. That part wasn’t nothing.

We made a covenant. And a covenant is so much stronger, so much deeper than a contract.

It means we show up when the other one doesn’t want to, it means staying even when the other person isn’t keeping up their end of the bargain.

Because God is holding us together until we can do better. ”

Tears sting the back of my eyes as her words settle deep into my heart.

A covenant.

Is that what Lucas and I made when we got married?

I’m not entirely sure whether or not God shows up to quicky weddings in Vegas.

Somehow it feels like He wouldn’t set foot in that city.

I know the vows I made, but it didn’t feel like I made them in front of Him.

It felt more like I was making them behind His back—like I was making them without Him knowing about it.

“Now, I know the two of you aren’t married,” my mom continues gently, her tone almost apologetic, “but I want you to know that if you invite God into your relationship, He will guide you. Whether it’s a friendship, or something more.

He will help you find a way when there doesn’t seem to be one.

And if you don’t want to talk to me, or even to Lucas, then talk to God.

Because He made a covenant with you, Hannah.

And that means He’ll never leave you. Even when you turn your back, even when you mess up, He’ll still be there. ”

I glance down at my hand, my now bare finger silently mocking me as my mom’s words echo in my mind.

A covenant. Something so much stronger, more enduring, than a simple contract.

Even if all Lucas and I have is a contract, I’ve still failed to hold up my end. If we really entered into a covenant…a sacred an d unbreakable covenant…then my actions, my choices, my running would be so much worse than it already is.

“I’m not sure what to do,” I admit, looking at my mom, the vulnerability inside now open for her to see. “I feel…lost.”

Without hesitation, my mom opens her arms and pulls me in. Her embrace is warm, solid, and deeply comforting. When she finally pulls back, she brushes away a tear trailing down my cheek and offers a reassuring smile that feels like a lifeline.

“If you feel lost,” she says softly, her voice steady and sure, “then you need to go back to what makes sense.”

She reaches over to my bedside table and picks up my Bible. She gently places it in my lap, the meaning clear. She cups my cheek with a tenderness that tugs at my heart. Then without another word, she stands up and walks out of the room, leaving me alone with my thoughts.

Setting down my mug, I open my Bible. A folded piece of paper lands in my lap, one I recognize from when I was thirteen years old. There are pink hearts in the corners and a smile tugs at my lips.

It’s the prayer I wrote. One for my future husband.

Heavenly Father,

I want to pray for the man You picked out for me, the one you want me to marry one day.

I know You have a plan for me and a plan for him.

I know you love all your children and that you want the best for all of us.

That’s why I want to ask that You won’t bring us together until we’re ready for each other, until we can be exactly what the other needs.

Please guide me, and guide him. Keep us pure and steadfast, keep us in the palm of Your hand until we can be together.

Help us to wait on Your timing, Lord. Help us stay true until You decide the time is right.

Ame n

Folding the piece of paper, I tuck it back between the pages of my Bible. It’s times like this that I wish I could hear His voice, telling me exactly, step by step, what to do in a situation.

I wait a few minutes. Waiting to hear from Him.

A sense of peace and comfort stirs inside of me, first small and slow, then spreading until it feels like it’s covering me completely.

Talk to Lucas.

Grabbing the keys to my blue Honda, I hurry out the front door, my heart thudding faster than my footsteps.

Sliding into the driver’s seat, I quickly check my reflection in the rearview mirror.

My mascara is mostly intact—messy enough to remind me of the tears, but not enough to give me away completely.

I swipe at the edges of my eyes with a tissue, willing myself to stay composed during whatever may come next.