When Marcus counseled one of the students in his youth group, he took no phone into the room with him, and the room had no clocks. He intentionally made it an area of no interference. Ken had gone to him the day after he had gotten drunk at that party. He had been hungover, embarrassed, and concerned at the way his psyche had processed the alcohol. Marcus had prayed with him and talked to him, and helped him through the strange emotional time.
“Thank you for seeing me tonight.”
“My door is always open to you.” He gestured toward him. “You look like you worked hard today.”
Ken looked down at the dusty jeans and T-shirt. “I helped build the house for Daisy’s mission.”
“Oh, right. That was this weekend. We had a big state youth counsel that interfered, so we couldn’t get out there this time. Labor Day weekend is always tricky.” He moved around and sat in his chair. “How can I help you?”
Ken cleared his throat. “Well, sir, I plan to ask Daisy to marry me. I came to ask for your blessing.”
Marcus raised both eyebrows, then leaned back in his chair. He rested his elbows on the arms and tapped his fingers together. “I see. She told me you know about her situation.”
“Situation?” Ken repeated softly. Pushing down the knee-jerk anger, he calmly clarified his statement. “You mean the baby?”
“Yes, Ken. Of course, I mean the baby.”
“Then, yes. She told me.”
He waited. Marcus stared for several long moments, then asked, “How do you feel about it?”
“The baby? Or the situation?” He didn’t air quote the word situation, but he thought about it.
Marcus glared at him. “Are you asking her to marry you because she’s pregnant?”
Ken sat back, and his eyelids lowered. “Honestly, I expected better from you, Marcus.”
Marcus waved a dismissive hand. “I hope you understand that your expectations aren’t my priority. My daughter is my priority.”
Ken felt his lips purse. He hadn’t considered that. It had escaped him. It shouldn’t have. “Fair enough. But would you have asked me that question if I was the baby’s father?”
“That’s a moot point. You’re not the father.” Marcus tapped his upper lip with his fist. “The question is important, or else I would not have asked. In fact, this is a very important conversation. Nothing is easy about being the parents of a baby.”
Ken waited for more clarification, but none came. Finally, he asked again, “Would you have asked me that question if I was the father?”
Marcus leaned his chair back and stared up at the ceiling for several moments, then said, “I think so. Yes.”
Ken let out a breath. “Okay. I want to marry Daisy because I love her. But it’s more than just that. I believe God made me just for her. I believe God designed her to be my wife. Before I knew she was pregnant, I bought the engagement ring, and I bought a house to build for her. The baby pushed up my timetable, a timetable that only existed for her sake, really. I would have married her after our first date.”
Marcus sat straight in his chair with the squeak of springs and put his elbows on the desk. He leaned toward Ken as if about to convey some deep secret or vital piece of information. “And as you go into this marriage, when this little human being interferes with your new relationship, how will you feel? Will you grow to resent the child? Will you take exception to the way that her attention will be split?”
The men stared at each other for several moments. “Would you ask me that question if I was the father?”
Marcus let out a heavy sigh. “No. I don’t think so.”
“Fair enough.” Ken leaned forward, too. He rested both elbows on his knees. “In my heart and in my mind, the baby’s already mine. Don’t much care what a paternity test would say. Doesn’t matter. What I know is that I want to love Daisy as Christ loved the church, and I want to raise that child under an umbrella of love and wisdom that can only come from a household that puts God first. Much like Joseph raised Jesus as his son.” He sat back. “So that is what I intend to do with your blessing. I am the father.”
Suddenly, Marcus grinned and clapped his hands together once. “Ah, Ken, that makes my heart happy.” He stood and walked around his desk. Ken stood with him, not surprised when this man he had loved so much as a teenager pulled him into his arms and tightly hugged him, then slapped his back hard. “You have my blessing!”
Immediately the nerves released. He felt them skate down his arms and through his fingertips. He smiled and barked a laugh. “Thank you! Now I just need to convince Daisy.”
Thesoreness didn’t set in until Daisy sat on her front porch Monday night. She’d worked—physically hard work—since seven Friday morning. As soon as she sat, the muscles finally gave in, and the thought of moving inside lost any appeal. She needed a shower, a snack, and her bed for the next twelve hours, in that order.
Instead, she lay her head back against the bench and used her toe to keep the swing gradually moving. Aloud, she said to herself, “Maybe you can just stay outside tonight. That would be fun, right? Like camping.”
No matter how perky she made her voice sound, camping out on her porch did not appeal to her. The sound of Ken’s truck had her sitting upright. She heard the slamming door, then he appeared in the glow of the porchlight. With a gentle smile, Ken said, “I wondered if you’d even still be upright.”
“I sat and then my muscles said, ‘Okay, we’re done.’” She toed the swing, and it slowly swayed. “I was just talking myself into sleeping out here tonight.”
