way I look at it,” Ryan explained carefully, “I already have a family, a suddenly growing family, and of course I have my students.”
“They must mean a lot to you.”
He smiled. “Can’t seem to help it. You might even say the thing’s gotten a bit out of hand. Some of them really need an adult to just listen.”
Ivy tilted her head, the sleek curtain of her long dark hair sweeping across her shoulder blades. “Is that enough for you? Listening to other people’s kids?”
Ryan shifted uncomfortably. “Well…my job and my family keep me very busy, and…” He rubbed a hand over his face before abruptly deciding to give in to the impulse to say what he had never said to anyone else. “You probably remember what happened when my dad died.”
“Your mom’s suicide,” Ivy whispered, nodding.
“Marriage seems like a really big risk to me,” he admitted.
“I used to think so, too.”
“Not anymore?”
She pondered that before shrugging. “I don’t know,” she said softly. “Love is risky, no doubt about it, but family…” She looked up at him with wide, pain-filled eyes. “Family is worth very nearly everything.”
She had a point there, Ryan admitted silently. He would risk much for his family, not just Hap and Holt and Charlotte, but for his brother-in-law and sister-in-law and nephew, too. What would he risk for a wife and child of his own? He was almost afraid to find out.
“Quite a crowd this year,” Ryan remarked softly, looking around at the people already spread over the gently rolling landscape.
Ivy nodded in agreement. There were more people present than she remembered from years past, but it had been so long that she had no idea if this had become the norm.
The simple service of yesteryear had obviously given way to a more sophisticated approach. She noticed an outdoor sound system tucked into inconspicuous places, and flickering patio torches had been placed at intervals to mark the space from which the service would be conducted. Atop the hill behind that space, in increasingly stark silhouette, stood three crosses temporarily erected for the service. Around the topmost section of the center cross hung a crown fashioned of thorny vines.
In the center of the marked-off space stood a large rock, across which a length of purple fabric and several long-stemmed lilies had been arranged in artful abandon. This apparently served as a makeshift altar as two men knelt next to it in fervent prayer. One of them she recognized as Grover Waller, the middle-aged pastor of First Church, a little older and rounder and with thinner hair, but the same pastor nonetheless. The other was a younger man Ivy did not know. At her whispered query, Ryan informed her that his name was Davis Latimer, the new minister of the church on Magnolia. He, along with his congregation, had been invited to participate in this earliest Easter morning service.
Ivy felt a chill. Glancing around, she wondered if her father might be in attendance. She looked down, telling herself that if he saw her he would surely avoid her. Perhaps it would be best if he did see her. It would spare Rose the awkwardness of having to inform him of her visit.
A reverent hush enveloped the ever-growing crowd, some of whom stood or crouched. Others had possessed the foresight to bring along lawn chairs, while still others simply sat or knelt on the ground.
“I should have thought to bring something to sit on,” Ryan told her apologetically, leaning close.
Ivy gripped the sides of her wrap and held them out. “This will do.”
“Won’t you be chilled without it?”
“We’ll find a sheltered spot that blocks the breeze.”
“Let’s try over here,” he suggested, taking her hand to lead her down the gentle slope a little way to a cluster of boxy shrubs. Ivy spread the paisley shawl on the ground in front of the shrubs and sat, folding her legs back to one side. Ryan followed suit, scooting close to offer her the warmth of his large, muscular body, one palm braced flat on the ground behind her. “Comfortable?”
“Yes, thank you.”
They sat in silence for several minutes, watching the gradual lightening of the sky, before the pastors stood, Bibles in hand, and took up positions in front of the makeshift altar. Utter stillness descended, then Grover opened his Bible and in a clear but gentle voice began to read the prayer of Jesus from the seventeenth chapter of John. The other man picked up with the eighteenth and nineteenth chapters, telling about the betrayal and arrest of Christ, which included the Apostle John’s moving account of the crucifixion, before Grover began the twentieth.
“Now on the first day of the week Mary Magdalene came early to the tomb, while it was still dark, and saw the stone already taken away from the tomb….”
The pastor went on as the sun rose over the hilltop behind him, its golden rays seeming to reach out to all the world. He read how the risen Savior showed Himself to His astonished, jubilant followers and became the Light that pierces the darkness. Finally, Grover closed his Bible and stepped forward to speak.
“Mocked, stripped, scourged until His flesh hung in strips and, finally, in the company of murderers and thieves, nailed by the hands and feet to a cross,” the preacher began. “That is the picture that His enemies would have had you remember, but they did not recognize what was really happening, what they themselves were a part of. They did not see a willing sacrifice, a life laid down in recompense for the sins of humanity or a love so great that it could allow such a thing. And they were not there when Christ took up His earthly form once more and stood among His beloved, proving Himself to be the Son of God, worthy and perfect in every way. So today, as we, His children, bask in the radiance of His resurrection, grow in the glow of His love and rejoice in the light of the forgiveness and grace with which He gifted us, let us praise Him.”
Lifting their hands, the pastors began to pray, one after the other praising and thanking God with simple eloquence and humble gratitude. At the end, they spoke a gentle “Amen” together, which the congregation echoed. Then a woman whom Ivy recognized as former classmate Becca Inman stood in the midst of the crowd and began to sing a well-known Easter hymn in a clear, beautiful voice. Others began to join in, coming to their feet as they did so. With the song gaining in volume, Ivy, with Ryan at her side, also rose.
She did not realize that tears streamed down her face until Ryan pressed a clean linen handkerchief into her hand. With her thoughts elsewhere, she barely managed a smile for him. Instead, she envisioned that glorious day of resurrection. That miraculous event proved the sacrificial intent of the crucifixion, but for so long Ivy had ignored it, seeing it as just one more improbable, two-thousand-year-old story that had nothing to do with her own life today.
Ivy knew now what a fool she had been. She’d looked at her father, a man who had always gone to church, and seen the bitterness that had marked his life. She’d wanted no part of that, and somehow that bitterness had equated with church in her mind, and church had equated with Christ. Only when she’d been introduced to her Savior and surrendered her life to Him had the stories of Easter become dear to her, more dear than all she had given up to follow her Lord.
She had found forgiveness and a new beginning by surrendering her heart and soul to Jesus Christ. In many ways, she felt resurrected herself. But sin, as she had learned, still has consequences. She understood that, like everyone else, she lived
