Runaway Groom

by Fiona Lowe

  “Miz Sagar?” a female voice came down the line. “It’s Hannah Bryant, Jasmine’s mama.”

  It took Amy a moment to remember the mother of the little girl with cerebral palsy. “Hannah. How lovely to hear from you. How’s Jasmine enjoying the new electric wheelchair?”

  “That’s the thing, Miz Sagar. She don’t got it.”

  Three days before Amy lost her job, she’d approved the Bryants’ application to the Kids Plus Foundation for the wheelchair. It should have been delivered by now. She bit her lip. “I’m so sorry to hear that, Hannah. You may have heard that I’m no longer working at M.M. Enterprises and Mr.—” she could barely say his name, “—Wiseman has taken over the running of Kids Plus. Have you spoken to him?”

  A long sigh shuddered down the phone—one borne of the constant toll of having to fight by inches for her child. “I got a letter saying there’s no wheelchair coming and he don’t return my calls. Without that wheelchair, Jasmine can’t go to school.”

  Amy had met with the Bryants twice; heck, she’d even gone with Hannah and Jasmine to the wheelchair fitting and seen the order placed. They’d had a celebratory coffee afterward. What the hell was Jonathon up to?

  And then it hit her. Fury like she’d never known sizzled in her veins so hot and hard she thought she’d burst into flames. It was one thing to screw her over, but it was another entirely to disadvantage a family just because of their association with her.

  Your job is the one area in your life where you’re confident.

  Oh, God, Ben was right. For weeks she’d been feeling sorry for herself, ashamed, timid and scared, and that’s what Jonathon had been depending on. He’d attacked her on her weak spot and expected her to slink away. Well he’d just made a tactical error by attacking someone she cared about. Someone who needed her to fight for them.

  “Hannah, I’ll be back in Chicago tomorrow and I’ll fix this.”

  Jonathon Wiseman wouldn’t know what hit him.

  But first she had to tell her parents and warn them of the nastiness that was about to engulf her and, by default, them.

  * * *

  Ben was in Key West, Florida, and discovering that even though he was only ninety-four miles from Cuba it might have been a million. His vague plans of taking Red to the island country had hit a massive brick wall of bureaucracy. It didn’t matter that he was Australian—he and Red weren’t going to get to Cuba by boat from here.

  He’d had glorious sunshine and blue skies on his ride along the Overseas Highway and the impressive seven-mile bridge, and he’d taken a moment to salute the engineers. The Keys reminded him a lot of Queensland with their turquoise green seas, white, sandy beaches, swaying coconut palms and coral reefs. After diving off Islamorada, he’d found himself wanting to tell Amy all about the Great Barrier Reef. It wasn’t the first time he’d automatically gone to tell her something only to realize that wasn’t possible.

  You could call her.

  But there was no point. She wanted more than he could give and he was done being anyone’s crutch.

  Just like Queensland, the Keys had the colorful and laid-back lifestyle that comes with a warm climate. There were no early morning frosts or snow down here. Just vacationers out for a good time and had he wished for it, he wasn’t short on bikini-clad women for company. As it was, he’d taken to reading a book on the beach so he wasn’t constantly making polite chitchat with women who clearly wanted more than conversation.

  He wasn’t interested in any of the beautiful women, who with their golden tans and straight up and down bodies, presented themselves to him like models on display. They had a fake perfection to them and they made him think of Amy’s real body of creamy skin and lush, toned curves. That in turn made him ache and feel restless all at the same time. He missed the sex.

  You did without sex for months. You miss Amy.

  “I don’t,” he said out loud, his voice carrying on the sea breeze.

  “Dude, chill,” said a passing Rastafarian with solemnity.

  Shit. He was losing it. He left the beach and opened up the app on his phone and video-called his parents. Talking to them would bump him out of this odd mood. Dad would tell him about his latest modification to his four-wheel drive and his mum would fill him in on news of his brothers.

  Toward the end of the call, they made quiet murmurings about the length of time he’d been away and asked if he had any plans to come home.

  “Ben, they’re advertising for engineers for the new ring road. It’d make a change from mining,” said his father.

  “I’ll think about it.” The words surprised him but despite the spectacular scenery, the lure of the road wasn’t as appealing as it had been before he’d got stuck in Whitetail.

  “Darling, soak up Key West,” his mother encouraged. “All that literary history.”

  They blew him kisses and signed off but the lift in his mood didn’t come. He felt edgy and disconnected and it had been a long time since he’d felt that way. Had the road trip done its job? Was it time to go home? He thought about Australia, picturing Melbourne, but even before he’d come on this trip, he hadn’t lived there for a long time and it didn’t feel like home.

  His mind slid to the lake house and he hauled it away fast. No way was that home.

  He took his mother’s advice and went and did the touristy thing of visiting Hemingway’s house. He saw the famous typewriter, the six-toed cats, shook his head at the idea of four wives—how much drama had the man wanted in his life?—and then he bought his mother a book of poems. He walked out into the gardens, planning to stay awhile but a wedding was taking place and that was his cue to leave. He rode down to Fort Zachary Taylor to glimpse where the Atlantic met the Gulf of Mexico and to catch the sunset.

  He parked Red and wandered down to the beach. Bloody hell. A wedding party was having their photos taken with the setting sun behind them. Key West was worse than Whitetail for weddings and happy couples. He stomped back to Red, his thoughts full of Amy.

  Amy.

  It stopped him cold. Not Lexie but Amy. He shook his head at the irony. Weddings still made him break out in a cold sweat but for a different reason. He’d ridden two thousand miles from Whitetail but Amy was still making him mad. Why was she letting that asshole railroad her life? Hell, if the sabotage had happened to him, he would have fought the bastard physically and legally. At least she had something to fight for.

  When Lexie had come out, he couldn’t fight because there was nothing to fight for. All he’d been left with was the shattered illusion of a relationship he’d thought he’d understood, only to find that all of it was fake. He hated that. He’d have given anything to have had something to fight for. To feel justified. To feel less used.

  And then Amy, who he’d thought he understood, had tried to use him too. Did he have a fucking tattoo on his forehead that read, Sucker?

  Not wanting to let his mind go there, he rode back to a bar that hugged the Atlantic. Its kitchen not only served up grouper, snapper and swordfish hooked that morning, but had spectacular views and sea breezes. He reminded himself he was in paradise, not a war zone, and he should be a hell of a lot happier.

  He took his beer to a table by the window and watched the sky’s fingers of orange and red vanish and take the last of the light of day with them. The game on the big-screen TV came to an end and then the news started. “Sex, texts and missing charity funds have rocked a Chicago Fortune 500 company,” said the female newsreader.

  The glass in Ben’s hand stalled halfway to his lips as the footage showed a group of suits surrounding a short man with thinning hair before it cut away to a woman walking on her own. With distinctive red curls blowing wildly in the Chicago wind, she was trying to make her way through a media mob to a taxi.

  Amy.

  Seeing her made his heart pump harder and h
e raised his glass to her in salute. Good for you. He really hadn’t expected her to fight but it looked like she’d actually listened to him and was taking control of her life. He truly hoped the process would prove to her that she didn’t love him or need him.

  “It’s lawyers representing lawyers,” the newsreader continued, “as two former employees of M.M. Enterprises slug it out with accusations of sexual harassment and theft.”

  Theft? Amy hadn’t mentioned anything about theft.

  A reporter stuck her microphone into Amy’s face. “Do you regret sending those texts?”

  Her chin tilted up. “I regret Jasmine Bryant’s suffering and that the Kids Plus Foundation, which I started, has been compromised. That’s the important issue here. Disability may not be as exciting to report on but don’t let yourself be sidetracked by the smoke screen of sexting and office affairs.”

  Before the reporter could ask another question, Amy got into the cab and closed the door.

  The camera swung back to the group of suits and Ben would stake his life that the short guy was the sleazy bastard Jonathon. Why did he have so many lawyers around him while Amy was on her own? Did the guilty need a show of strength?

  Will you come with me for moral support?

  The memory of her face after he’d said no pierced him. Shit. He drained his glass quickly. Where were her former colleagues?

  People are easily swayed, Ben.

  Why weren’t her parents there with her?

  Because, you dickhead, she’s protecting them from the publicity.

  Guilt rammed him. She really was on her own. An overwhelming need to protect her slugged him. He should have gone with her. She’d asked him to so why hadn’t he?

  Because she freaked you out by telling you she loved you.

  He’d let fear make him act like a dickhead. He’d let kind, generous yet insecure Amy, who didn’t value herself enough to ask people for anything, face this mess on her own. He’d thrown her to the piranhas because he’d thought she wanted to use him. Because he was too scared to trust that she did love him.

  I love you.

  Those three little words were so easy to say. They’d fallen so freely from Lexie’s lips. She’d said them to him over and over as if saying them could convince her they were true. And he knew on one level they had been true. He just wished he’d known about the other stuff.

  Amy’s nothing like Lexie.

  Lexie, despite her confusion, hadn’t had any problems asking for what she wanted or making demands on him. Amy didn’t have any of that relationship confidence. Sure, she’d gained some in their time together but she still had trouble asking for what she wanted.

  I love you.

  He choked on his breath.

  She’d have known when she said those words that the chances of him rejecting her were high and yet she’d still done it. She’d been brave. She’d taken a huge emotional risk and he’d been so wrapped up in his own fears that he hadn’t believed her. He’d virtually called her a coward.

  She really loved him and he’d let his fear get tangled up in the current chaos of her life.

  The chaos of my life.

  The lonely, miserable, screwed-up mess that was his life and the dispirited restlessness that had become its spine.

  You were happy in Whitetail.

  And how had that happened? He’d been stuck in a wedding town with an injured shoulder, unable to ride Red.

  He thought about how he’d enjoyed tinkering in Al’s garage and spending time with Al and Ella, his doppelgänger parents. He’d loved the lake and the hiking.

  With Amy.

  Cooking in the fabulous kitchen.

  With Amy.

  The sex with Amy. Happy? He thumbed his nose at the irritating voice in his head.

  Making love to Amy. Talking to Amy. Laughing with Amy. Caring for Amy. Arguing with Amy. Being frustrated by Amy.

  He wanted to put his hands over his ears.

  Loving Amy.

  Every cell in his body froze and he tried desperately to argue the thought. He didn’t love her. He liked her but that wasn’t love.

  She’s in your thoughts all of the time. You miss her like you’d miss a limb.

  He loved her. He truly loved her. “Fuck.”

  “You okay, man?” the aging hippy at the next table asked.

  “I’m an idiot.”

  He nodded slowly. “Happens to us all, pal. Job, money or women?”

  “Women. One in particular.”

  He held up a shot glass. “I find tequila helps.”

  And yesterday Ben might have convinced himself that tequila would help too. Hell, an hour ago even, but not now.

  His general unhappiness, his restlessness and his discontent had stopped in Whitetail and it had started again the moment he’d left.

  Because of Amy. Beautiful, generous, contrary, confused, complicated Amy.

  And dickhead that he was, he hadn’t realized he’d fallen in love. He’d taken her freely-given love and thrown it back in her face with gratuitous advice—so easy to give rather than to take—and then abandoned her to cope alone with the biggest personal crisis of her life.

  She had every right to hate his guts. He knew he did.

  He had no clue how he was going to win her back, or convince her that he truly loved her. Given everything that had been said, he didn’t know how he could persuade her he was even worth taking a risk on, but one thing he knew for sure. This time he had something worth fighting for and by God, he was going to fight.

  Chapter Twenty-Three

  Amy spread out napkins and unpacked the Chinese takeout boxes onto her apartment’s coffee table, and then shoved serving spoons into them before pouring wine. “Thanks for being here.”

  Her parents both gave her quiet smiles and accepted the proffered wineglasses. They’d been stoically supportive of her from the moment she’d called them from Whitetail. They’d met her in Chicago and had made sure she didn’t watch the news or read the newspapers. As they’d done their best to shield her from difficult people, not once had they asked her why she’d allowed herself to get into such a predicament.

  “Thank goodness it’s over,” Todd said with a pained expression as he served himself some pot stickers. “This has to have been the worst week of your life.”

  Amy thought about the afternoon three weeks ago when Ben had left her. She wanted to say, I’ve had worse but instead she said, “It’s up there for sure.”

  They ate in silence because what was left to say? Jonathon had fought dirty just as she’d expected and even though she’d found the evidence that would convict him of theft from Kids Plus, she hadn’t avoided the spray of mud. And she hadn’t expected to. She’d been foolishly naive and now her colleagues, her parents, their friends, the community she’d grown up in and anyone watching the news knew it. Just like children never wanted to think about their parents having sex, she was certain parents didn’t want to imagine their adult children’s sex life, and hers had been “Live at Five.” Even if the sex with Jonathon had been amazing—and it had been so far removed from that it wasn’t even worth thinking about—it would never have been worth having if it meant her family would be faced with the details.

  As for Ben, her parents seemed to have assumed that they’d parted as planned or maybe they hadn’t but with everything else going on they never asked. Amy could understand that. Why put your hand up to be told more stuff you didn’t want to know?

  Her mother put down her empty plate, nudging it onto the crowded coffee table. “Amy, we’ve been worried about you for weeks. Why didn’t you tell us the moment you lost your job?”

  Tell your parents. How many times had Ben said that? She swallowed her dumpling. “I couldn’t.”

  “But why?” Hu
rt and confusion filled her mother’s face. “It’s not like Daddy and I haven’t ever made mistakes.”

  Tears pricked the backs of her eyes. “Yes, but as I was your big mistake I’ve pretty much spent my life trying not to make any.”

  Lisa’s eyes widened in shock. “Amy Sagar, you are not one of our mistakes.”

  She sighed. “Come on, Mom. You and Daddy didn’t exactly plan me and getting pregnant with me changed your lives. And don’t try and deny it,” she said as her mother opened her mouth. “You never started college and Daddy had to give it up. If you told me once you told me a hundred times between fourteen and twenty not to get pregnant but to get an education.”

  Lisa looked stricken. “I’ve loved being a mom but we just wanted you and your sisters to have an easier life. It’s easier to study before you have children.”

  Todd picked up Lisa’s hand. “Perhaps we overcompensated, Amy, but we love you and we just wanted the best for our smart girl.”

  And there was the problem. She sucked in her lips to try to hold back her tears. “I know you did...do. Cindy was pretty, Heidi was pretty and athletic, Sally was pretty and devilish, and I was smart.”

  “And pretty,” Todd said firmly. “All of my daughters are pretty.”

  You’re beautiful, Amy.

  She shook away Ben’s voice. He might think she was beautiful but he couldn’t love her. “I loved being the smart one. I don’t know, but I think when I brought home a report card full of As and you put it up on the fridge I wanted it to stay there. Somehow me getting the good grades got tangled up with me not letting you down. When I went to college, that continued and I studied the law and then I got the good job. I did everything you and Daddy weren’t able to do and then I lost it.”

  Bewilderment scudded across Todd’s face. “Are you saying you didn’t want to be a lawyer?”

  She shook her head. “No, I did, I do, but if I’m honest with myself, I did it a little bit more for you than for me.”

  “Oh, Amy.” A tear slid down Lisa’s cheek. “Your dad and I have loved you from the moment the doctor laid you in our arms. I’m so sorry that our hopes and dreams for you have been a burden.”