Full Throttle & Wrong Bride, Right Groom

by Merline Lovelace

  Pulling his gaze from the flags, he let it drift down squadron after squadron of short-sheared, blue-suited troops standing at parade rest, legs spread, hands clasped loosely behind their backs.

  Christ, they looked so young! And so damned eager. He felt a tug of envy for the future that stretched so limitlessly before them. What honor would they bring to the just-issued uniforms they wore so proudly? How many battle streamers would they add to the flags waving in the breeze? How many of them would end their careers too soon, like Carrington?

  Pete slipped his hand into his pants pocket, searching through the keys and pocket change for a twisted scrap of metal. His eyes on the field, he fingered the constant reminder of his heavy responsibilities to those young, eager rookies.

  He shoved those responsibilities to the back of his mind when an officer quickstepped to the center of the field and faced the massed squadrons.

  “Sooooooound adjutant’s call!”

  The military band belted out a few short chords, alerting the troops and the visitors to the start of the ceremonies.

  “Bring your groups to at-tennnn-shun!”

  One after another, group and squadron commanders echoed the adjutant’s bellowed order. The air reverberated with the bellowed commands. Five hundred chins lifted. A thousand heels clicked. Shoulders squared. Chests puffed. Guidons whipped up, and blue-and-gold squadron pennants snapped in the breeze.

  Unconsciously Pete pulled back his shoulders and dropped his hands in loose fists at his side. His pulse accelerating in a quick, steady beat, he listened to the ritual announcements that signaled the start of the ceremonies.

  When the reviewing party arrived and the colors marched forward, Pete came to rigid, square-shouldered attention. At the first note of the national anthem, his right arm sliced up in sync with all the others on the field. Palm blade-straight, fingertips just touching his brow, he stood tall. The emotions that comrades-in-arms rarely, if ever, admitted to pounded through his veins…the same emotions that drove men and women to leave their homes and their families and don a uniform that made them targets for hostile forces.

  Pride. Patriotism. A sense of belonging to a larger community. A need to return some measure of service to the nation that nourished them.

  Throughout the ceremonies, he stood at the end of the field. He barely heard the introduction of the reviewing party. Watched with abstracted interest when the officers massed at the center and marched forward, then returned to lead their troops. Listened with only a part of himself to the stirring remarks by the commanding general. His thoughts stayed focused entirely on the troops.

  The future belonged to them. To these men and women who stepped out in massed squadrons, then columned right and hit their stride to the stirring beat of the air force anthem. Arms whipping up, they saluted the reviewing officer as they marched past. From where he stood, alone and proud, Senior Master Sergeant O’Brian saluted them.

  As they passed, one squadron after another, Pete remembered how he’d stepped out some twenty-two years ago. Like these eager men and women, he’d marched off this field, straight into two decades of excitement and routine, incredible challenges and occasional frustrations. He’d made decisions during those two decades that he regretted, certainly. There had been moments he’d sell his soul to relive. But for twenty-two years, he’d given everything in him he had to give.

  Now he might have a chance to march another few years into that future.

  Or into a different future.

  I could love you, too. Easily.

  The words echoed faintly over the tromp of marching feet. They wove through the chords of stirring, martial music.

  He could see Abby standing with one hand on the door to the shop. The sunlight had made a fuzzy halo of her hair and dusted her skin. Lord, she had the most beautiful skin. Pete’s fists bunched tighter.

  Of all the goodbyes he’d ever said, that one had hurt the most. It still hurt. This time, though, he suspected that neither time nor distance would ease the ache.

  I could love you, too.

  Pete waited until after the last squadron had passed in review. He stood silent while the airmen tossed their caps in the air in exuberant glee. Then he walked back to the hospital parking lot, searched out his rental car and drove to the visiting senior NCO quarters.

  Tossing the car keys and his maroon beret on the coffee table, he unbuttoned his blue coat and loosened his tie. Hands shoved into his pockets, he stood at the window. He had some hard thinking to do before he reached for the phone sitting on the desk.

  When the phone shrilled, Abby was literally up to her ears in boxes.

  She’d decided to take advantage of her Saturday afternoon off to start packing her personal things. The professionals would move the large pieces, but she wanted to sort through and wrap the smaller items herself. Given her penchant for collecting treasures, it was a laborious task. Thank goodness Beth had called from L.A. and promised to come over and help when her flight landed in Atlanta later this afternoon. Her sister always needed time for her internal clock to reset itself after an international run. Packing would be as good a way as any to work off her body’s confusion over abrupt time zone changes, she’d insisted.

  Abby lifted a stack of books from the bookshelf and tucked them into a box, mulling over the brief call. Beth had asked how her fiancé had taken her nonappearance at the wedding, of course. The news of Jordy’s unexpected deployment to the world’s current hot spot had shocked Beth into a long, tense silence. She’d hung up shortly afterward, but not before she told Abby that she needed her sage advice and counsel when she got into Atlanta.

  Sighing, Abby reached for another stack of books. She didn’t feel up to dishing out advice to Beth, or to anyone else, for that matter. In fact, she heartily wished there was someone she could turn to for a little counseling herself. She hadn’t felt this…this empty in years.

  She should be simmering with excitement right now. She should be tucking her things into boxes with the joyous expectation of unpacking them in the old, well-loved home she’d always longed for. The house on Peabody Street was all but hers.

  True, the appraisal had returned with an estimated value some four thousand dollars lower than expected. Her Realtor had gone back to renegotiate the price with the owners, but Abby had already privately decided to eat the difference if they proved recalcitrant, since she’d budgeted for the original amount anyway.

  So where was the thrill of excitement that usually rippled through her when she thought about her house? What had happened to the pleasure she felt each time she stopped by the place after work and wandered through its rooms? Why didn’t her heart jump at the thought of sleeping in her four-poster bed?

  There was only one answer to all the questions that now plagued her, and he hadn’t called. Not once since he’d left Atlanta.

  Damn O’Brian, anyway. How could he have walked into her life, cut a swath through her dreams and walked out again, just like that?

  Even more to the point, how could she have let him?

  Abby sat back on her heels, the books clutched in her hands. He was probably on his way back to England by now. To the air base located close to…Where was it? Stonecross Keep. Vague descriptions of square stone towers, black-beamed ceilings and trestle tables drifted through her mind, followed by an image of Pete sprawled in the love seat opposite hers, his long legs stretched toward the fire as he’d dug through his memory for the details she demanded.

  Almost immediately, another image crowded that one aside. Of her and Pete sharing the same love seat. Of his hands massaging her frigid toes with a gentleness that made her ache almost as much as the memory of their passionate hours in the loft.

  The shrill of the phone ripped through her fragile memories and laid her wide open for a rush of hope. Dumping the books in a heap on the floor, she shoved aside a stack of boxes and snatched up the receiver.

  “Hello.”

  “Abby?”

  The soun
d of a woman’s husky voice sent disappointment lancing into her heart. It was all she could do to force out a reply.

  “Yes?”

  “It’s me, Cherry.”

  Abby summoned a smile and a warm greeting. As soon as the polite preliminaries were over, Cherry plunged right into the reason for her call.

  “Listen, sweetie, I have a big favor to ask you. I know it’s an imposition, but you’re the only other woman I know in Atlanta, and even if you weren’t, I feel like we’re friends. Please say you’ll do it.”

  Abby smiled at the breathless, excited rush. “Sure, if I can.”

  “Would you be my maid of honor? Tonight? At the Pines?”

  “What?”

  “Irv pushed his divorce through as soon as we got back to Dallas,” Cherry reported, happiness bubbling like a fountain in her voice. “He signed the papers last night, and we flew back to Atlanta this morning to get the blood test and the license. Georgia’s still his legal residence for tax purposes, you know.”

  “Er, no, I didn’t know.”

  “It is, and we are. Getting married tonight, I mean! Can you believe it it?”

  Abby grinned. “I believe it! Just out of curiosity, though, what happened to the Lincoln?”

  Cherry’s infectious gurgle of laughter came over the line. “Irv gave it to his ex…after I reminded him that we’d pretty well worn out the shocks, anyway.”

  “Good for both of you!”

  Cherry sobered. “Irv says he realized something up there on that ridge, when he was working on Orlie with you. Life’s too uncertain to take anything for granted. He says sometimes you just gotta go for it. You know, take that leap…like you’re doing, sinking all your savings into your new shop.”

  Before Abby could respond to that, she rushed on. “So he called the mayor. Remember her? The one who tried to marry you and Irv?”

  “I remember.”

  “She’s going to perform the ceremony, and Orlie’s going to give me away, and I’d really love it if you’d be my maid of honor.”

  “I…”

  “I know this is awfully short notice. I would have called you earlier, but we weren’t sure we could get the blood tests and the license done, and then we were rushing around so much I didn’t have time to call. But say you’ll do it!”

  “Of course I will. I’d be honored.”

  “Oh, Abby, thank you! We’ll send a car for you. Is an hour from now okay? The ceremony’s at six.”

  “You don’t need to send a car. I got my van back yesterday, in better condition than when I bought it. I’ll drive up.”

  “No, you won’t. We’re doing this right. Tell me your address and we’ll send a limo. Oh, and Abby?”

  “Yes?”

  “You’d better wear something white, for tradition’s sake, because I’m wearing red!”

  “Now why doesn’t that surprise me?”

  Laughing, Abby hung up. Cherry’s contagious happiness kept her smiling as she weaved her way through her scattered possessions. She’d have to shuck her jeans and grubby t-shirt and grab a quick shower if she was going to be ready by the time the limo arrived.

  She walked into the bedroom thinking how strange it was that she’d never been to the Pines before, and now she’d been asked to participate in her second wedding there in less than a week. Hopefully, this wedding would come off better than the last one. With any luck, Cherry and Irv wouldn’t have to bundle under layers and layers of blankets to keep warm when they shared that sybaritic bed in the honeymoon cottage.

  At the memory of the hours she’d spent with Pete in that huge bed, she froze with her jeans peeled halfway down her hips. Breath suspended, she waited for the ache to pass.

  It didn’t. It pooled in a spot just under her heart and stayed there, a heavy, constant hurt.

  Shoving her jeans off, Abby shook her head. Sweet heavens, how could she have been such a fool? After all those years of giving Beth advice, of trying to keep her from tumbling in and out of love, she’d done exactly the same thing. Or almost the same thing. She’d tumbled into love, apparently, but she hadn’t quite reached the “out of it” stage yet. She was beginning to suspect she never would.

  Unlike Beth, though, she hadn’t had the courage to reach out and grab at that love. Steady, cautious Abby had retreated into her safe world and watched Pete walk away, just as she’d watched Derek What’s-his-name walk out of her arms into her sister’s charmed circle.

  She hadn’t even tried to hold on to Pete, she thought in disgust. Or find the middle ground between her dreams and his duty. She’d let him go back to his life, and she’d stayed in hers. So here she was, surrounded by cardboard boxes and about to act as maid of honor at another woman’s wedding.

  Some life, Abigail. Some dreams!

  She sank down on the edge of the bed, her mind churning. Gradually her hurt became anger at herself, then slowly tipped into something else. Something less painful. More positive. Determination gathered, bit by bit, at the outer corners of her heart. Then it folded in on itself, until it became an insistent, demanding force.

  Dammit, Irv was right. More or less. Sometimes a person just had to go for it—only in this case, Abby had gone for the wrong thing. For a supposedly intelligent woman, she’d taken far too long to realize that a home was so much more than just a house. It was shared laughter, and sour-cream potato chips before the fire, and someone warming your toes for you on a cold night.

  That kind of home you could make anywhere, she told herself fiercely. It didn’t have to be on Peabody Street, or even in Atlanta.

  Pete’s highly mobile career didn’t have to mean only goodbyes. So he spent a lot of time in the air! He had to come down sometime, didn’t he? And when he did, she’d be there. She’d welcome him home, just as Mrs. Clement’s descendants had welcomed their men for generation after generation. She’d take her heart and her hopes and her portable George IV wherever Pete went.

  Her determination flowered into a fierce, pounding joy, tempered by just a touch of reality.

  Okay, so he hadn’t said he wanted her with him wherever he went. He hadn’t even said that he loved her, exactly. Only that he could love her. Well, any woman worth her salt ought to be able to turn that could into does.

  And if she didn’t? The voice of caution that she could never quite shake struggled to be heard over the pounding of her heart. If she failed to convince Pete? What then?

  Then she’d pick up the pieces and go on. But at least she would have tried. For once in her life, she would have thrown aside all caution and common sense and followed her heart, not her head.

  She sat absolutely still on the bed for several long moments, then reached out and yanked the phone off the nightstand. Her hands trembling, she started dialing.

  Chapter 10

  Pete strode out of Atlanta’s airport with more adrenaline coursing through his veins than he’d pumped before his very first jump.

  He hadn’t taken time to change out of his uniform. After placing a quick call to the hospital and another to his overseas unit, he’d barely taken time to throw his things in his carryall before checking out of the visiting NCO quarters. He’d arrived at the San Antonio airport just as a flight to Atlanta was boarding. It had taken some fast ticketing and a first-class seat, but he’d made the flight.

  Moments after the plane touched down at its destination, he was out the door and heading for the airport exit. This time, no flushed, curly-haired creature in a black cloak tugged at his sleeve to stop him. This time, he couldn’t shift his carryall into his left hand and sweep her against him with his right, as he ached to do. But he would. Dammit, he would. Before he boarded the plane that would take him back to England, he was going to hold her and kiss her and try to convince her that they’d already said all their goodbyes.

  He probably should call ahead, he thought as he hailed a cab. Abby might not want to see him. Hell, she might not even want to talk to him after their last session, but what he had to say co
uldn’t be said over the phone.

  Slinging his bag and himself into the cab, he gave the driver directions to Things Past. The trip into the city seemed to take twice as long as it had the last time. Curbing his simmering impatience with some effort, he used the time to marshal his arguments.

  When they pulled up at the shop, Pete was half out of the cab before he saw the Closed sign on the door. His colorful curse raised the cabbie’s brows.

  “Got a problem, Sarge?”

  “Yeah, I do.”

  Pete eyed the sign in disgust. He hadn’t counted on the shop closing early on Saturday afternoons. He had no idea where Abby lived. Where she planned to live, yes. But where she currently resided, no. He climbed back into the cab and slammed the door.

  “Pull over at the next phone booth you see. I have to check an address.”

  With the taxi idling behind him, he flipped through the fat phone directory. As he’d expected, he found no listing for Abigail Davis. When he saw the multiple A. Davises in the directory, he muttered another curse and pulled out the piece of paper Jordy had given him containing both Beth’s and Abby’s phone numbers. The paper unfolded easily along well-worn crease lines. He’d taken it out more times than he could count this past week and stared at the number scrawled across it.

  Eyes narrowed, he checked the scribbled phone numbers against those listed in the directory. Moments later, he climbed back in the cab and slammed the door.

  “Ten-sixteen Philmont, and hurry.”

  The cabbie grinned. “Fasten your seat belt. This baby moves about as fast as the F-4s I used to work on.”

  Reining in his impatience, Pete met his gaze in the mirror. “How long were you in?”

  “Only one hitch. Vietnam was enough for me. Though I hafta tell you, I never took the flak at Tan Son Nhut that I take when I drive through some parts of this city.”

  Pete listened with half an ear to the vet’s rambling and occasionally raunchy stories of his days in the service. With each turn of the tires, he felt his control slipping closer and closer to the edge of its restraint.