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Richard found them later, as the dinner was commencing and asked them to join him in his office. After a few brief words about commitment and togetherness, he asked to speak to Melia alone. Ryan left the room but didn't go far. Her father, the Bishop now, leaned across his desk, with his very large painting of "Oh Jerusalem" by Greg Olsen, hanging on the wall behind him. It had a very pensive quality to Melia, not soft and still at all as some described it. She felt the Savior was disappointed in Jerusalem, not sad about it. She felt that those who sat in this room generally to confess sins and repent were also disappointing to the Savior.

Richard steepled his fingers and pursed his lips, wetting them in preparation for speech. Her father wasn't a Bishop of many words, she had discovered, but it was clear he had something to say this time.

Melia let her eyebrows rise.

"I get the feeling that this wedding isn't necessarily what you want." He said abruptly.

Melia's reaction was instant, and angry, hot on the heels of Robert DeMarco's rebuff. "What makes you say that?" she choked out.

His eyes scrunched up at the corners and Melia was forcefully reminded of his age and experience, she knew her dad's history and knew he had faced many, many strange and bewildering experiences. He had been hurt and hammered, hollow and through hell, and he understood the gospel. She glanced back at the picture again. Maybe he'd chosen it not to intimidate those who sat in the chair and make them not want to disappoint the Savior, but to remind them that disappointment was universal and that possibly forgiveness was available if they would repent and believe and try harder.

"I'm not sure." Her father, the Bishop, said.

"Well, I'm fine. I've made my decision." She stated strongly, trying to convince herself as well as him.

"It's something in your eyes." Richard went on as if she hadn't spoken.

Melia blinked. "My eyes?" she repeated numbly.

Richard took a deep breath and began to talk about Jesus Christ, about his love for him and about the covenant of marriage as the Savior had taught it. He spoke softly and inexorably, laying it out on the table for her till her heart swelled with knowledge. Reminded, she thought, I am being reminded, I am being given a chance to back out, I am being given a chance to start over, to turn back, to.... Repent....

She hung her head, feeling the weight of silent knowledge hovering in her heart and mind. She had never repented of what she'd done with Jared. It had been a sin, a real sin, maybe the first real out and out major sin she'd ever committed. It was a bad one, and she'd let it slide in favor of the "love", but what was love if based on sin? She knew it, right this moment she knew that sin was eating her up inside. It was the thing that she sometimes sensed that was "wrong". When she had that feeling, she generally pushed it away, but right here in this office, faced with no one but her own Dad, she sensed it. The wrong she felt was the sin she'd committed and hadn't made right before the Lord.

But could it be made right? No. It was fornication. It was forbidden. It was something she'd known all her life. She'd then suffered the consequences of it, Hannah... and how could she resent Hannah? She was all that was left of Jared. These things were so confusing. First a sin, a bad sin, but Jared's love had come of it.... How could that be bad? It was bad and good? That didn't make sense. How could sin bring good? And then Hannah and the baby.... Bad or good? Only good.... But a reminder of the bad.... This kind of thought made her head ache.

And then the running... what was she running from?

All she'd done since she'd met Jared was run.

She felt compelled to run. She had to catch up with her life. She had to make Jared proud of her. She had to keep him close to her by doing what he'd asked her to.

She needed to slow down, to repent, to turn around and see her life for what it was, to acknowledge it, and get some help....

But I can't! she heard her inner voice wailing. I can't!

Her eyes once again focused on her father's very kind face, his blue eyes were fixed on her, fringed in thick dark lashes, his nose long and blunt, his fingers drummed the desk waiting for her to answer. His lips were set, somewhat grim as he waited, and yet, she thought vaguely, against the turmoil she felt roiling around inside, he had a very compassionate look as well. How could that be? He seemed to be so set, so.... Calm, so agreeable. What made a person be like that? And then she knew it. Nothing bothered him anymore because he faced things, had faced them all along and accepted himself within the framework of the gospel.

No! She shook her head, denying it in that moment. I can't face it now. I can't!

"I still want to marry Ryan." She said.

"Okay." He sighed. "Do you love him?"

Melia nodded, but couldn't completely raise her eyes to meet his. A lie? No, she did love him, had loved him before, and those feelings were still there, hiding inside somewhere and they would come out once she and Ryan were together again.

He sucked in his lips. "Is there anything in your conduct that hasn't been resolved by the proper authorities?" he asked gently, staring her down. She glanced at him and then away at the picture again.

"No." she whispered and he blinked at her.

"Melia..." his voice was soft, and knowing, and prompting and he didn't believe her. She needed him to believe her. It was the only way for her to believe herself.

"No, there isn't dad. I'm fine."

"You're about as far from 'at peace' as a person can get. It's written all over you." He said, and set down his pencil to rub his neck. "Why don't we kneel and pray?"

"Daddy, I'm just nervous about the next film and the baby and stuff... I'm not nervous about Ryan. It'll be easier with Ryan to share in the burdens. We're good together, we'll help each other."

"Let's pray." He said again and got off his chair. Melia joined him and knelt by her chair. She didn't open her mouth and felt her heart beat frantically hoping he didn't call on her, but he didn't. He began and she relaxed as his steady and familiar voice asked the Lord to bless her decisions, and open her heart and give her peace. She could feel the spirit for once, strongly, feel it as she used to, warm and good in her heart and sending chills down her arms. She felt a moment of joy, and then it was gone, fleeting, as if it couldn't stay.

Her father was done, he'd helped her back to her chair, smiled at sleeping Hannah, and then returned to his seat with a gentle patient smile just for her. But Melia was analyzing the fact that she didn't feel the spirit on a regular basis anymore. Feeling the spirit all the time used to be important to her, and she'd cultivated a lifestyle that had been conducive to it, but now, she realized she only felt it at times like these, and only for a moment. She missed her father's smile.

"Would you also like a blessing?" he asked her.

Melia managed to nod. He'd given her a blessing before Hannah was born too. It had... well, she'd not felt peace that day, that had been the day she'd flown to Wales to see her mother, told everybody about her pregnancy and marriage, and then escaped on her father's plane in the most harrowing near death experience of her life, she shuddered. Airplanes zooming the wrong way overhead, in their face, in their lane, veering and dodging, Jared telling that military pilot to stand down... she shuddered again. I can't face that day, she thought. I can't even think about it. A man died for me that day. How do I repent of that?

She heard the inner wail again and felt fear like she'd never felt before. Fear that there were too many things to repent of and she'd never be able to do it. Not only not repent, but not admit it. She never wanted to talk about it to anyone ever.

"Melia, can I give you a blessing?" her father was standing and coming to her. He stood beside her chair and laid his hands on her head, and this time he gave her a father's blessing for understanding, to come to terms with the things that had happened in her life, and to come to terms with her own lost dreams and expectations. When he was done she had a very clear picture of herself riding Red in the field above the cottage and she asked her dad to watch Hannah for an hour, he agreed.

*****