For the Right Reasons (30 page)

The next day, I was so happy to see Catherine I could barely stand it.

“You’re not going to believe it, but I saw an elephant at the hotel,” she said after we hugged.

“No way,” I said. “They don’t have elephants just roaming around the hotel.”

She was getting frustrated because I wouldn’t believe her.

“No, I promise!” She was facing me, and meanwhile I could hear the elephant in the background making its way up the hill. When she turned around and saw it, she squealed with delight.

We had an amazing day riding this gigantic elephant up a hill where they’d set up a cabana filled with food and champagne. The view was enchanting and a half dozen elephants stood right next to us as we chatted. It felt like we were part of a fairy tale. The producers noticed how amazing the scene was too.

“Would you guys mind kissing right here?” Mary Kate asked. “The shot is just beautiful.”

“Heck no,” I said. “I don’t mind kissing her.”

We started kissing, but it was all a ploy. The producers had planned that the elephants would blow water out of their trunks on us. We got doused, which was so funny. It was a great day.

That night, Catherine invited me back into her room for one last chance to talk. This was the last time I was going to get to talk to her before the proposal—or non-proposal, as the case may be.

I could tell she was nervous, but we had a good conversation.

She hadn’t told me she loved me. Lindsay had, Tierra had, and many of the other girls had professed their love. However, Catherine—to whom I was thinking of proposing—hadn’t come out and said it. I knew it was a hard thing for her to say, so I didn’t press.

I also had never said to her, “You’re the one.” Mainly, because I wasn’t sure she was. More than anything, I was confused. Our conversation was intense but—at some point—the producers had enough. “Okay, we’ve got to wrap it up.”

Catherine’s lip jutted out. She wasn’t ready for me to leave. When I hugged her good-bye, she knew it was her last chance before the proposal. She whispered in my ear, “Sean, I love you.”

It was a moment of vulnerability. Catherine finally admitted her true feelings.

The only problem? I didn’t hear it. She was so nervous to say it that it was barely audible. The producers didn’t hear it in their earpieces either. Apparently, one of the sound techs—whose job it is to listen to everything—was the only other person on earth who’d heard Catherine’s sweet proclamation.

After she said it, I hugged her. “Thanks for today,” I said before walking out the door.

Of course, I had no idea I’d just devastated her. Outside her room, I walked up about five stairs to the landing where the producers wanted to film my ITM. I was about ten feet from her door. She was inside crying while I was outside obliviously chatting about what a great day we’d
had. During my ITM, Catherine came outside and was shocked to see me still there.

“Hey, what’s going on?” I asked. I could sense she was sad, but I chalked it up to pre–proposal day jitters.

“I’m scared,” she said. “I’ve never been this vulnerable before.”

I still didn’t quite get it. She was referring to the fact that she’d opened up to me about her feelings and I’d casually walked out the door. I’d never seen her cry before, and it split me wide open.

“It’s going to be okay,” I said, and I gave her a hug.

But in my mind, I wasn’t so sure.

The following day, I had my final date with Lindsay. It began with drifting down the Mekong River on a Thai boat and ended with releasing paper lanterns into the night sky.

During the date, I started to understand my feelings for the two women. I had a long list of reasons why Lindsay was wonderful and a long list of the reasons why Catherine was. But when Mary Kate conducted the ITM interviews, I found myself repeatedly saying, “I just don’t know if I can ever say good-bye to Catherine.”

We wrapped up the day portion of the date, and I felt like my mental anguish over the decision meant I hadn’t been as attentive to Lindsay as normal. When it was time to get dressed for the evening portion, I pulled Mary Kate aside.

“I think I’ve decided.”

“Decided what?”

“That I want to marry Catherine.” There was just something about her that I couldn’t bear to be without. I think that’s what it came down to. There was nothing about Lindsay that I disliked or made us incompatible, which is why I’d struggled so much to come to this decision. But when I thought about sending Catherine home, it tore me up.

“Are you sure?”

“Just about,” I said. “I know I can’t hurt Lindsay. I might need to send her home right now.”

But I wasn’t certain.

For the next two hours, I wrangled with my thoughts on the matter. Didn’t Lindsay deserve to have those last few hours? After all, it would give her the chance to tell me anything she needed to tell me before I made my decision. Finally, I decided it was best to give her that time and try to stay open-minded for the rest of the date. I really wished I could call my friends to talk through the decision with them. Trying to figure it out alone made it that much harder.

At the end of the date, time had officially run out. The next day, I would propose to someone.

Maybe.

That night, I prayed continuously.

“Lead me, God,” I said. “Guide me. Don’t let me make a mistake. I love you, Lord, and if you want me to walk away from all this just tell me.”

I prayed everything I could think of, but I was still a wreck. I loved Lindsay, much like I loved Brooke. Though I loved Catherine, I still had big questions about her faith. Before I started the show, I had made a list of all the nonnegotiables I needed in a wife.
Being a Christian
was at the top of my list.

What did I really know about Catherine’s faith?

When I was in Seattle for the hometown visit, I had noticed a cross hanging on the wall of their small home. During our overnight date, she told me she had been raised Catholic. She used to go to church with her mom and grandma every Sunday. So she was generally friendly to faith and to God. However, I sensed there was a gap between her church attendance back in the day and her commitment now.

Was she a Christian? Was she serious about faith?

Though the Bible doesn’t talk a lot about how to date, there are scriptures that indicate single Christians should marry “only if he [or she] loves
the Lord” and warn, “Do not be unequally yoked with unbelievers” (1 Cor. 7:39; 2 Cor. 6:14
ESV
). Marrying a non-Christian is unwise for the Christian and unfair to the non-Christian. I didn’t want to begin a marriage with such an obvious gap between us.

I’d never been so torn in my life. I decided there was no possible way for me to propose to Catherine without knowing—really knowing—where she was spiritually.

“I need more time with Catherine off camera,” I told Mary Kate. It was past midnight. By this time, everyone was busily preparing for the next day.

“You know, Sean,” she said firmly, “we don’t do
anything
off camera.”

“I need it,” I said.

“After ten weeks of protecting the show from leaks, unexpected turns of events, and old girlfriends, do you think in a million years that I’d let you talk to Catherine off camera
on the night before you propose
?”

“That’s just it,” I said. “I can’t propose yet.”

“Why?”

“I need . . .” I paused. “More information.”

She was frustrated but relayed my request to Ronald, the head executive producer who’s always behind the scenes but never interacts with the people on the show. A few minutes later, I got a knock on my door.

“Okay, let’s talk this out,” he said in his German accent. “What’s going on?”

“I need to make sure Catherine and I are on the same page on . . . some things.”

“Like what?”

I realized how absurd this conversation was. How could I possibly explain to the executive producer of
The Bachelor
that I needed to know if Catherine and I were going to believe in Jesus in the same way? I wasn’t aware of anyone on the show saying he or she was Christian. Though everyone was nice to me, I got the feeling that most of them either overlooked my Christianity or thought it was quaint and old-fashioned, like a rotary phone.

“Well, my faith is the center of my life, and I want to make sure it is—or can be—the center of her life too.”

“Didn’t you talk about that in the fantasy suite?” Ronald asked. It was well known that the fantasy suites were backdrops for all-night conversations.

“Yes, we did, but I need more,” I said. “I need more information and more time.”

Ronald was in my room for forty-five minutes, which was really awkward and strange since I was wrangling with the toughest decision of my life with a man I’d only seen occasionally, and time was of the essence. He went through the decision rationally with me step-by-step.

“Okay, I’ve been married for years, and marriage is bliss,” he said. “But I can tell you this . . .” He proceeded to give me a lot of very good advice. He asked me questions, and I answered as honestly as I could.

“I think it’s safe to say from what you’ve told me and what I’ve heard tonight, we can put Lindsay aside,” he said. “Right?”

As hard as it was for me to admit, I nodded.

“Okay, then,” he said. “It’s time to let go of Lindsay.”

“Right.” I swallowed hard. “I can do that.”

“Now let’s talk about Catherine,” he said. “So you’re falling in love with her?”

“Without a doubt.”

“But you still have questions.”

“Right,” I said. “I need to talk to her.”

“Okay, so here are your options,” he began. I’ve never had anyone lay out my relationship options in quite this way. I had a feeling Ronald would be happy in a boardroom with a dry-erase marker, mapping out my future.

“Number one, you can leave here tomorrow without anyone. Brad Womack did that.” He saw my face fall. “I know what you’re thinking. Everyone hated Brad when he failed to choose someone. But don’t let that affect your decision-making process. I think our viewers will know who you are and will trust your decision.”

“Okay, but I don’t want that,” I said. “I’m falling in love with Catherine.”

“Option number two,” he continued, “you can decide not to ask Catherine to marry you, but instead ask if she wants to continue in this relationship with you outside of the show.”

“Got it.” I said, trying to be logical. It was hard because confusion settled on me like a heavy weight.

He continued, “You can ask her to stay in the relationship with you so you can answer whatever questions are still apparently lingering in your heart. Then six months or a year down the road, you can propose on your own.”

“Okay,” I said. “That might be the smartest decision.”

“But let me add,” he said, “this is your one and only chance to give her the proposal few people on earth get to have.”

I couldn’t tell how much of this was sincere advice and how much of this was just spin from a producer who wanted to make a great television show. Those two things don’t always go hand in hand, and—though I was confused—I was fully aware of the fact that he had ulterior motives. He also made some very valid points.

He stood up, ran his hands over the creases in his pants, and sighed. I could tell he had said everything he needed to say to me and was trying to keep the desperation out of his voice. He had a ton resting on my decision. Not only did a multimillion-dollar television show hinge on the proposal, but there were practical concerns. The show had spent a couple of weeks building a proposal set on the property of the wealthy man who’d let us use his home. They had planned a gorgeous setting, including a bridge and a pond they dug just for the occasion.

“I just want to know where you’re at so I can make sure everyone’s prepared tomorrow.” I knew, even at that hour, that there were hundreds of people busily preparing for the next day’s production. “Everyone needs to know what they’re doing tomorrow.”

“I think I’m going to propose to Catherine,” I said.

“You think or you know?”

“I know.” I said it emphatically, hoping it would stamp out any lingering fears.