In a matter of hours, Hannah was scheduled to become Mrs. Riley Murdock. She sat on the end of her bed, wrestling imaginary crocodiles of doubt and indecision. They might as well be real, she mused, clenching and unclenching her hands. She felt as though there were powerful jaws snapping at her, jagged teeth tearing at her confidence and determination.
It was Jerry she loved, not Riley. Nothing would ever make the hard-edged sailor into another seminary student. Hannah wasn't foolish enough to believe the Torpedoman Chief was likely to change. One look at his cold, dark features the afternoon of the meeting at Bangor reminded her what a rugged life he led. There was nothing soft in this man. Nothing.
The day of the meeting, he'd been both angry and restless, stalking the room, thundering at her every time she attempted to apologize. In some ways she was convinced he hated her.
Yet it was his child growing Within her womb. Hannah flattened her hand across her abdomen and briefly closed her eyes. Despite the complications this pregnancy had brought into her life, Hannah loved and wanted this baby.
Hannah knew that Riley wasn't marrying because of the pregnancy. By his own admission, he was doing so for political reasons. Both her father and Chaplain Stewart had seemed relieved when Riley had announced they had agreed to go through with the wedding.
Hannah had agreed to no such thing. She'd been trapped into it, the same way Riley had. She wasn't sure even now, sitting in her room, dressed for her wedding ceremony, that she was making the right decision.
They were so different. She didn't love him. He didn't love her. They'd barely spoken to each other – and it was because they had nothing in common except the child she carried. How a marriage such as theirs could ever survive more than a few weeks, Hannah didn't know.
"Hannah," her father called after politely knocking on her bedroom door, "it's time we left."
"I'm ready," she said, standing. She reached for the two suitcases and dragged them across the top of her bed. This was all she would bring into their marriage. The pot-and-pan set, the dishes, silverware and other household items she'd collected over the years were gone. She'd donated them to the Mission House the evening she'd met Riley. The irony hadn't been lost on her. Nor had she forgotten how Reverend Parker had announced that God works in mysterious ways. Her entire life felt like an unsolved mystery, and she'd long since given up on deciphering the meaning.
She opened the bedroom door and found her father standing on the other side, waiting for her. He smiled softly and nodded his approval. "You look beautiful."
She blushed and thanked him. She didn't feel beautiful in her plain, floor-length antique-white dress, but having her father smile and tell her so lent her some badly needed confidence. The fact he seemed so sure that marrying Riley was the right thing helped a great deal. She'd always trusted her father and had never doubted his wisdom.