by Rita Herron
So he remembered she'd been on the swim team and that she played referee between Mimi and Hannah. "Yeah, well, things change, don't they?"
He nodded. "Time does that to people."
She looked away, stared at a gold chest in the corner that resembled a treasure chest, then bit down on her lip again.
"Why did you want to talk to me in private?" he asked.
Her eyes hardened for a moment, as if he should know the reason. And he did; he just couldn't bring himself to apologize or explain why he had stopped writing.
"There's something I have to show you."
He watched hungrily as she glided across the room, the blue dress brushing her bare legs as she knelt and opened the chest. She drew out an envelope and stood, then gestured toward a seating area with a low-slung white sofa and a dark green wing chair. "I think you'd better sit down."
What the hell did she have in the envelope? "I'm fine standing." Besides, he'd need help getting up off that sofa, and he certainly didn't want her helping him or feeling sorry for him.
"Really, Brady. I think this might come as a shock."
He studied her for a long moment, then finally conceded and took the chair, knowing he'd be able to get out of it easier. It took him a minute to stretch out his leg, another to look up at her without revealing the pain the movement cost him.
She was watching him when he did, a lost, soulful look that reminded him of that night at the lake. The night she'd cried because he was saying goodbye.
"I think you'd better take a look at this."
She handed him the envelope, and he breathed in the scent of lilacs, the same fragrance she'd worn four years ago. God, this was torture.
"I want you to know I received those papers only yesterday."
He frowned and opened the envelope, his hand shaking when he pulled out the marriage certificate. Then he removed the next set of papers and studied the text, his hands tightening around the pages.
"It's the annulment papers," Alison said in a low voice. "My grandmother sent them to me in the mail with my hope chest."
So that's what the gold chest was. Didn't women have hope chests when they were planning on getting married? The realization hit him full force. Alison was planning to marry Emerson. "I see." His gaze rose to meet hers, his throat thick. "But there are some missing signatures, and the papers haven't been processed. What's going on?"
"Apparently Dad asked Grammy Rose to file them and she forgot."
It took a nanosecond for him to realize the implications. When he did, he jerked his gaze to her. "Then … we're…"
"That's right, Brady. Technically, we're still married."
* * *
And we have been for the last four years.
Alison let the unspoken words stretch between them. Shock settled on Brady's face, then his eyes mellowed. With memories of the night he'd proposed, the night their young love had propelled them into each other's arms, into consummating their love by the lake, then into marriage.
Brady suddenly stood. The papers fluttered to the floor as he slowly reached out and touched her hair. His familiar scent filled her nostrils, his hungry gaze trapped her with its heat, and she moved toward him, cupped his face with her hands and melted into his arms.
He lowered his head, his breath ragged as he captured her lips and settled his mouth on top of hers, then delved inside with his tongue to taste her passion. The years fell away, the pain, the lonely nights and days, until Alison found herself clinging to his arms.
But she'd promised herself she would never cling or beg or force him to come back to her if he didn't want her. And she hadn't intended for the papers to do that.
She pulled away, slowly at first, then realized she had to distance herself or she might shatter and forget those promises she'd made to herself. As easily as he'd forgotten the ones he'd made to her.
"Alison … I—"
"No, don't." She turned and wrapped her arms around her waist, a nervous laugh bubbling inside when she saw the wedding picture of her and Brady. She'd been in her prom dress, so young, so in love, so naive…
"Alison, I'm sorry."
The gruffly spoken words made tears burn her eyes.
"I wish I could explain what happened, but I … I'm afraid I can't."
"We've both grown up," Alison said, squaring her shoulders.
"And changed."
The nervous laughter escaped. "Right, we were only kids back then. Foolish and impulsive and full of dreams."
"And stars." He cleared his throat. "But life changes and goes on."
She turned to face him and saw the strains of fatigue and worry etched on his face. He had aged, she realized, and a hardness, an emptiness had settled into his eyes that hadn't been there before.
What had happened to put it there?
She wanted desperately to know, yet self-preservation kicked in and she decided she couldn't ask. Not with that wall of broken trust between them.
"I … I really didn't know about the papers until yesterday. I'll file them as soon as possible, if that's what you want."
His expression grew even harder, even colder, if that were possible, the tension between them palpable. "I think that would be best." Then he turned and walked out the door, shutting it behind him.
Alison watched him limp down the street, and wondered at his choice of words. He hadn't said it was what he wanted, he'd said he thought it would be best. Her fingers brushed across her lips, and the memory of the passion in his kiss rose to taunt her. Could it be possible? Could Brady still have feelings for her? Or was she overanalyzing what he'd said, trying to hold on to some sliver of hope for their future?
* * *
Brady was too shaken to deal with the crowd in Sugar Hill, much less his doting, but slightly overbearing mother. He did find Vivica and meet her fiancé, Joe, an architect, who seemed like a decent enough guy and appeared to adore Vivica. But Brady couldn't focus; he was trying to absorb the news that he and Alison were officially still married.
"The fireworks display is supposed to be even bigger this year," Vivica said.
"I've never been to a small-town one," Joe admitted. "We usually go into Atlanta."
"Hey, Vivi," Brady said, "would you and Joe give Mom a ride home, and let me take the car?"
"Aren't you going to stay for the fireworks?" Vivica asked.
Brady jammed his hands in his pockets. "I'm tired. If you don't mind, I'd like to head home. It's been a long day."
"Of course." Vivica dug in her purse for her keys and handed them to him. "I keep forgetting it hasn't been long since the accident. You need to rest."
He grimaced and shook Joe's hand. "See you later."
Although he'd intended to go home, he found himself driving out to the lake, sitting by the edge, looking at the chapel across the water. As he threw rocks into the lake and watched them sink to the bottom, he contemplated the downward spiral his life had taken.
And he remembered the last time he and Alison had been here together. The night they'd made love.
He shouldn't have kissed her back at her shop, but the kiss had been so natural, so damn full of uninhibited passion that he'd forgotten the reason he'd returned to town. The reasons he'd broken things off with her.
He'd nearly forgotten he couldn't be with her again.
Although it was seven o'clock, the hot July sun was still beating down fiercely on his neck, and he swiped at the perspiration on his brow. A headache pulsed behind his eyes, due to the strain and the aftereffects of the head injury he'd suffered in the accident, so he lay back on the grassy hill and closed his eyes. Memories of his high school days, of football games and dances and Alison, floated in and out of his consciousness, and he finally drifted into a deep sleep. But in his sleep, he was suddenly thrust back into that last training maneuver, the simulated combat mission in the Arizona mountains, the horrible accident…
The sound of Josh's panicked voice rang in his ears. "Caught his jet wash!"
Brady gritted his teeth. Josh was the best pilot he knew. He could handle it. "Hang in there, Shooter."
"No, not good," Josh mumbled.
"The bogey's right on me," Brady called. "Got to drop altitude." He dropped and exhaled as the bogey zoomed ahead.
Josh cursed. "Damn. My engines are down!"
Brady glanced sideways and saw Josh's fighter jet fly into a spin.
Brady hung a right onto Josh's tail. "Pull if up, man, pull it up."
"Can't. Out of control." The radio crackled. "This is bad … can't get her back."
Brady saw the mountain coming at them. Josh's plane's belly skimmed a rocky peak, clipping one of the wings.
"Lost the other engine!" Josh shouted. "Mayday! Mayday!"
Brady had to do something, had to help his friend! But the bogey was coming back toward him. "Eject! Eject, Shooter! Hit the eject button."
Josh's voice rasped out, "Can't reach it."
"Dammit, man, eject now! And watch the canopy!"
"Eject button malfunctioning!"
Brady's hands tightened on his own controls as Josh tried to crash-land, the jet shimmying wildly in its nose dive toward the valley. Another mountain came at Brady and he barely pulled up in time. The bogey pulled up and circled back. Josh hit the trees, skimmed along atop them, then plunged into the mountain.
Brady grappled with his own aircraft. Seconds later, his heart pounding, he landed, barely missing a nearby military building on the edge of the mountain as he rammed into the forest. Even before the plane stopped completely, he was undoing his seat belt. The jet's nose hit a tree and the impact threw him forward, his head slamming the control panel.
Then he was fighting to get out, running across the terrain.
Am explosion suddenly rent the air. The wing of Josh's jet blew off and shards of metal slammed against his leg, knocking him to the ground. Another explosion shook the rocks, causing them to collapse. His foot was trapped, caught beneath the rubble. He yanked, tore at the debris, dragged his limb free. Pain shot through him. His leg was twisted and mangled, but he dragged himself forward. He clawed at the burning wreckage, frantically trying to pry open the door.
Blood spurted from his arm; metal scalded his hands; pieces splintered, slammed into his head. He tried to crawl inside, but the wreckage was an inferno. Josh… God no!
Brady jerked awake, trembling and sweating, the horror of Josh's twisted body still vivid, his own screams ringing in his ears. Where was he? The lake? But he'd heard an explosion.
Fireworks.
The town had started their evening show with a burst of patriotic red and blue colors. He must have slept for over two hours, for night had fallen. A skyful of stars twinkled above the lake, and the moon shone like a beacon. Just the way it had the night he and Alison had made love here. So damn long ago.
Another lifetime.
The marriage, the annulment – the sheer reality of it all crashed on top of him, almost as painful as the explosion had been. Alison had fallen in love with the star football player, the adventurous guy who planned to be a fighter pilot, the man who'd intended on spending his life serving his country, a hero.
If he and Josh hadn't been trying to best each other in the flying maneuvers, Josh might have realized the bogey was on him before he got caught in the other plane's jet wash. Brady couldn't escape the guilt that he had survived and Josh hadn't.
He looked down at himself in disgust, stared at the ugly scar twisting around his hand, at his leg, which was scarred and ugly beneath his pants. He was a broken shell of a man. Alison deserved a whole man. How could he have done anything but ask her to file the papers?
* * *
"You're awfully quiet, sis. Something wrong?"
Alison glanced at Hannah and forced a smile.
Other than the fact that she had just watched the fireworks with three very-much-in-love couples on top of a beautiful hill overlooking the meadow by the lake, and she was alone, she was fine. Jake, Seth and Joe had gone for lemonade, momentarily leaving her with her sisters and Vivica.
"Alison?"
"I'm just tired, I suppose."
Mimi leaned closer. "Where's Thomas?"
Good grief. She hadn't even thought about him. "He had another delivery. Seems like the Fourth is a big day for babies."
Mimi laughed and patted her stomach. "I'm glad I have a few more weeks."
"Did you get a chance to talk to Brady?" Vivica asked.
Alison tried not to let his name affect her. "Yes, for a few minutes."
"How's he doing, Vivi?" Hannah asked. "Jake and I saw him walking toward the Thunderbird. He looked as if he was limping."
"He had an accident." Vivica frowned. "I'm going to help him with physical therapy while he's home."
"Why didn't you tell us he'd been hurt?" Mimi asked.
Vivica shrugged. "He asked me not to say anything to anyone."
Alison struggled with her emotions. "What happened, Vivi?"
Vivica ran her fingers through her pixie hair. "I don't know exactly, some kind of crash during a training maneuver. He won't talk about it."
That sounded exactly like Brady, Alison thought. He'd keep everything to himself, all his troubles, his pain. He always had to be the tough guy.
She had to be tough, too. After her parents divorce, she'd heard her mother arguing with Wiley. "I can't stand married life. That baby's always clinging to me."
That baby had been her.
Alison had made up her mind then she would never cling to anyone, and she wouldn't cling to Brady now.
"So, what did you tell Thomas?" Vivica asked.
Alison jerked her head up, surprised at the change in subject. How pathetic – she was still starved for any word about Brady. "I told him I needed time to think about it." And I need time to end my first marriage.
She opened her mouth to confide in them, then realized she couldn't, not now. Vivi and her sisters would want to know details, but her feelings were too raw to discuss with even her closest friend and her sisters.
The men sauntered back, laughing and joking, each heading toward his loved one. Alison suddenly felt out of place. The crowd was breaking up, so she said good-night, then headed toward her car, remembering her conversation with Brady. She'd told him she'd file the annulment papers as soon as possible so she could move on with her life.
But who could she get to file them? She didn't want the whole town to find out about her hasty marriage, to gossip and pry. She could see the headlines "Town bridal consultant divorces." She needed a lawyer, someone who would be discreet.
Her mother.
A ball of anxiety knotted her stomach. She'd promised herself she'd never ask Janelle Hartwell for anything. After all, for more than twenty years she'd been a non-existent parent. Alison had been three when Janelle had deserted them. So she barely even remembered her. She and Hannah and Mimi had always depended on their father, Wiley. He'd been wonderful, except for that one night – the night he'd forced Alison to have the annulment.
And now she was back in that boat again.
The very reason she was thinking about her mother, the lawyer. Dear heavens, she'd refused Janelle's offer of financial aid when she'd decided to open the bridal shop; she hated to go to her now. But Donald Matthews and her mother were the only two lawyers in town. Matthews's secretary Wanda had a mouth like a party line. Janelle was the only one Alison could swear to secrecy.
She glanced over her shoulder and saw Jake and Hannah, Mimi and Seth, and Vivica and Joe all walking hand in hand toward their cars, and felt more alone than ever. She didn't want to be alone forever. And Brady didn't want her – he'd made it clear when he'd stopped writing, and then again today. She had to accept his decision.
Knowing she shouldn't put off the inevitable, she dug through her purse for her cell phone, swallowed a big chunk of pride, punched in her mother's number, and left a message on her machine.
&nbs
p; * * *
Chapter 4
« ^ »
"It's nice to have you home." Brady's mother placed a heaping plate of pancakes in the center of the table, along with a pitcher of maple syrup and a bowl of fresh strawberries, all the time complaining about how the heat had affected her garden. "We need a man around this house."
Brady's hand tightened around his coffee cup.
Vivica rolled her eyes. "We don't need a man, Mom. We've managed fine on our own." She winked at her brother. "But it is nice to have you here, Brady."
He smiled, grateful for her interference, and stabbed some of the hotcakes. "Do you need some yard work done or something, Mom?"
"Heavens no, the grass is dying from lack of rain." His mother scooted a plate of sausages toward him. "You eat up, now, son. You look a little thin to me."
"I'm fine, Mom." Brady ignored the way she stared at him in concern. "But I must admit, I have missed your cooking."
"Just don't overdo it and get fat or you won't be able to fit into your uniform when you return to duty," Vivica said.
Brady's fork halted in midair. When he went back? He wasn't sure if he would, but he hadn't told anyone yet.
Mrs. Broussard stirred sugar into her coffee. "I thought you might decide to stay here. Won't they give you some kind of early medical discharge?"
"Mom," Vivica chided. "Don't start bugging Brady to retire from the Air Force."
"I thought he might have changed his mind about taking over the print shop."
The pancakes were beginning to clump in Brady's stomach like rocks. He and his mother had argued about this over and over in the last few months. It was one reason he hadn't come home sooner. Trouble was, he wasn't sure he would ever fly again – and for the first time in his life, he was actually considering her suggestion.
Vivica pushed away from the table. "Gotta run now. I want to catch Alison before I have to go to work."
Brady watched Vivica hurry out the door. What would Alison think if she knew he was considering staying?
* * *
"I'm so glad you wanted to meet for breakfast." Janelle Hartwell laid her hand over Alison's. "I want us to get together more often."