During our busy days of unpacking and settling in, I hadn’t spent enough time just staring into his eyes, tracing the lines of his jaw, watching the earnest furrow deepen on his forehead, and enjoying the dimple full of mischief flicker across the right side of his lips. I watched the first two messages, reciting some of the words with him. Once again, the blessing he spoke sent a tingle down my spine, as if gleams of God’s countenance really could shine on me. “Message three,” Tom said. “This one—” He paused, mouth partially open. The pause stretched beyond a moment of gathering thoughts. I held my breath, then let it out in a whoosh as I realized the recording had frozen. Our rented movies did the same sometimes, when a scratch or smudge interrupted the play. Bryan would forward past the bad section. I tried Fast Forward but nothing moved. I hit Play again and again. Rewind did nothing. Then the screen went blank. Not fair. So not fair. I pulled out the disc and babied it with glass cleaner and a soft cloth, removing any signs of fingerprints on either side.
