by Rita Herron
"Oh. Janelle shouldn't have told you. I told her I wanted this whole thing to be kept quiet."
"Honey, your mom cares about you and was worried."
Alison fiddled with her napkin. "Did you know Grammy hadn't filed the papers?"
Her father chuckled. "Nope, but I'm not surprised."
"Why? Was she having trouble remembering things?"
Her dad laughed again. "Hardly. Your grandmother is the most lucid woman I know. But she's also the most stubborn, thinks she knows everything."
Alison leaned her cheek in the palm of her hand. "I don't understand, Dad."
"I think she didn't file them because she didn't want to." He wolfed down another bite of the cinnamon bun. "See, your grandmother disagreed with me about the annulment. She thought I was wrong to push you into it."
Alison's mouth gaped open. "Really?"
"Yep." Her dad wiped icing from his chin. "I've been thinking lately, wondering if I made a mistake that day."
Alison frowned. "I never thought I'd hear you say that."
Her dad reached over and squeezed her hand. "I saw you with that baby doctor. Mimi said he asked you to marry him."
Alison winced, wondering if he wanted her to marry Thomas. "I told him I needed time, Dad."
"Because you still love Brady?"
"Dad—"
Her father held up his hand. "Look, hon, I know it's none of my business. And I'm sorry for the way things happened four years ago. It caused a rift between us and I've always worried about that."
Alison's throat clogged at the misery in her father's face. "Dad, I know you did what you thought was best. Brady and I were young and we got carried away."
He pushed away his plate, shifting restlessly, his face ruddy. "But sometimes that one person comes along, and if you don't grab them right then, you can lose them forever."
Like she was doing right now with Brady. "But if it's real love it lasts forever, Dad."
"For better or worse. Remember that when you and Brady sit down to sign those divorce papers."
Confusion filled Alison's head. What exactly was her father trying to say? Was he suggesting they shouldn't go through with the divorce?
* * *
"Brady, a couple of your old friends are here to see you," his mother chirped.
Brady looked up from the computer in surprise. "Johnny, Bobby Raye, it's been a long time."
Johnny, a hulking ex-linebacker for his old high school team, pumped his hand. "Hey, man, we heard you were back."
Bobby Raye, a former member of the wrestling team, grabbed him in a hug. "Yeah, we didn't expect to find you here, though."
Brady shrugged. "I told my mother I'd help her out while I was here." He gestured toward the wooden chairs in the office, and his friends sat. Except for a few gray hairs, Johnny still looked in pretty good shape, even in his dull-gray work uniform, but Bobby Raye had added about fifty pounds, mostly in the form of a beer gut.
"So, how long are you here for?"
"I have a month's leave. Wanted to be here for my sister's wedding." Brady explained about the accident, omitting the details.
"We were hoping you'd go with us for a beer." Bobby Raye checked his watch. "It's five o'clock, quitting time."
"Yeah, Pinto's Pug has ninety-nine cent drafts till seven," Johnny added, already standing.
Brady considered declining, but decided it would be nice to catch up on his old friends' lives. After all, if he decided not to reenlist, to stay in Sugar Hill, he'd be seeing them often.
A few minutes later they were seated at the smoky bar, ice-cold drafts and a bowl of peanuts in front of them. A pool room occupied the back corner, a dart game the right, and a big-screen TV blared in the background.
"Is this your regular hangout?" Brady asked.
"Most of the guys come here to watch the sporting events," Johnny replied.
"So, tell me what you guys have been up to since college," Brady said.
Both his friends shrugged. "Me and Wanda split again," Bobby Raye said. "She's just a nag. Don't appreciate how hard I work at the shop." He cracked a peanut shell with his teeth, then sucked down the contents. "Got this honey-do list a mile long. Wants me to come home and do this, do that, then crawl into bed and cuddle her." Bobby Raye patted his glass. "Sometimes a man just wants to kick back, watch the ball game and have a cold one, you know what I mean?"
Brady nodded, although he wasn't sure he did. Bobby Raye had planned to major in engineering. He'd once talked of building bridges in Europe. "Didn't you go into engineering like you planned?"
Bobby Raye shrugged and crushed another handful of peanuts in his fist. "Nah, dropped out after the first year. I work at my daddy's auto shop now."
"He does the best brake work in town," Johnny said, elbowing Brady. "Gives the best damn price, too. I take all my trucks there."
"Your trucks?" Brady frowned. "I thought you were going to study finance and make a million before forty."
Johnny shrugged. "Flunked out first semester. Too much partying."
Bobby Raye and Johnny laughed. "But he runs a great delivery service, even moving into that 'dot.com' stuff. And he's single, out with a different woman every night."
"Tell us what you've been doing, Mr. Air Force pilot." Johnny gave a low whistle. "All those things we talked about doing sort of slipped away, but you actually went out and did them."
"Yeah, you got guts," Bobby Raye said.
Brady frowned into his beer, remembering the way the three of them used to sit around and dream. The guys were right. He had gone out and chased his dream. Only now, he was considering giving it all up.
He glanced at both of them again, studying their faces. They seemed content, but would he be if he stayed here and took over his father's business?
* * *
Alison tried to escape the coffee shop without running into her mother, but her day seemed destined for family interference.
Her mother cornered her at the door. "Can we talk for a second?"
"Sure." Alison checked her watch. "But I have to meet a client in a few minutes."
Her mother smiled. "Okay, I just wanted you to know I filed the papers, so everything's underway."
Alison nodded. "I can't believe you told Dad about the divorce. Who else did you tell?"
"No one. And I'm sorry, honey, but he is your father and he cares a lot about you." She stroked Alison's shoulder. "If you ever want to talk, ever need someone to listen who might understand, I'm here."
"What?"
Her mother played with the gold chain around her neck, looking uncertain, surprising Alison more. "Look, honey, I know I haven't been around much—"
"You haven't been around at all for the last twenty-some years."
"Right." Her mother took a deep breath. "But I'm here now for you girls, and I'll help you any way I can."
"You're filing the papers. That's all I want from you."
Hurt flickered in her mother's eyes. "I know I deserve that, Alison, that I've been a terrible mother…"
Alison remained silent. She certainly couldn't argue with that.
"But I do understand the pain of a divorce, even if it's one you choose to have. There's a certain sense of failure, of sadness."
"You felt those things when you divorced Dad?"
"Yes." Janelle rubbed at her temple. "I've carried around a lot of guilt and a sense of failure for years. I don't want you to do that."
Alison bit her lip. She did feel a sense of failure. "And I have to admit Wiley's been a wonderful father. I look at him now and admire him."
Alison was speechless. Her mother was actually complimenting Wiley, sounding as if she liked him. But she was right – her father had been wonderful, devoted and steadfast even when the girls had gone through awkward rebellious stages and tried to push him away.
The meeting with Brady came to Alison's mind, and the sense that he might be trying to punish himself. That he was pushing her away. It had been a long time sin
ce they'd spoken their vows. His accident, the therapy – this was definitely a rough time for Brady. Maybe he needed to know she would love him for better or worse.
Maybe her sense of failure was coming from not fighting hard enough, from giving up too soon.
"Alison, are you all right? You have a funny look on your face."
Alison looked at her mother and smiled. "Yes, I'm fine. But I have to go." She hurried through the doorway, adrenaline pumping through her. Maybe she should think of a plan, a way to get close to Brady again, to show him she loved him. After all, her divorce would be final on the same day Brady's sister got married.
She had less than three weeks to convince Brady they could have a future together.
* * *
Chapter 11
« ^ »
Brady awoke with a start. He'd had another nightmare.
But this time he hadn't dreamed about the crash. He stared into the predawn light, a mixture of relief and anxiety splintering through him.
Instead, he'd dreamed about staying at the print shop. He'd seen himself in five years, buried in paperwork, bored, irritable, thirty pounds heavier with a beer gut of his own, stopping by the Pug every day with Bobby Raye, dating an endless number of women, going nowhere in life. In the dream, he staggered out of the bar and saw Alison pregnant with another man's child.
Disgusted, he threw back the covers, climbed from bed and dressed in running shorts again. He stepped outside and drank in the fresh air.
Once again he found himself walking by the rec center. He'd promised himself he wouldn't watch Alison swim again, yet, after that dream, he had to see her.
She was swimming her laps, had already started the breaststroke, the peaceful silence accentuated by the occasional ripple of her arms brushing through the water. Today she wore a simple dark green suit that hugged her curves and dipped slightly lower in front to give a hint of cleavage. He stood in the shadows, his body hard at the sight of her. He ached to go inside the pool area, yet he held back. His sister was right – he wasn't the old Brady. He was a coward.
Too afraid to tell her the truth about himself, too afraid to see the disgust or disappointment in her eyes when he revealed his flaws.
"Brady?"
His breath caught at the sound of his name. Unable to help himself, he moved to the side of the pool and knelt. Alison propped her arms on the edge, water droplets glistening on her skin and hair, a soft smile on her face.
"I wish you'd join me."
He shook his head, unable to speak. Then she cupped his chin with her hand, pulled his face down and kissed him. He savored the sweetness of her lips, the subtle hunger in the throaty moan that escaped her when they finally pulled apart.
"I've missed you, Brady."
"I missed you, too," he heard himself admit.
She pressed her forehead against his, her breath whispering in the silence of the room. And he knew then that he didn't want to wind up like the man in his dreams. He missed the old Brady, and he wanted him back.
"I'll see you later?" she asked softly.
He nodded, drew in a deep breath, straightened his aching leg, then turned and left, determined to face his demons.
* * *
Alison finished her laps, confusion mingling with hope as she remembered the kiss, the gentle way he'd responded, the hungry need in his eyes when they'd pulled apart. She showered and dressed, contemplating the kiss along with everything Brady had said since he'd returned. He did still want her, at least on some elemental physical level. But would it be enough to bring them back together?
* * *
Later, at home, Brady showered and dressed, grateful for the progress he was making during the grueling therapy sessions. Although the doctor had said he would always have a slight limp, his leg was already feeling stronger, his limp seemed less pronounced.
He met his mother in the kitchen. She was already pouring his coffee. "Do you want to ride in together today?"
He froze, realizing how easily he'd let her take control of his life. It was time he took it back. If he wanted Alison to respect him, he had to respect himself first. Maybe Vivi had been right. Maybe he had been feeling sorry for himself. "No, Mom, I have something I need to do first. Do you think I could take Dad's old Durango?"
"Sure. I try to drive it once a week just to keep it running." She lifted a shaky hand to her cheek. "I keep telling myself I should sell it, but I just haven't been able to part with the thing."
His father had loved the old Durango, had taken it up in the mountains for days at a time when he went fishing. Brady wrapped his arm around his mother's shoulders and hugged her, thinking of Alison's letters and how difficult it was to give up certain sentimental things.
Thirty minutes later, he sat outside the small airport, staring at the runway, watching as one of the pilots pulled his aircraft from a small plane port and gassed it up. Brady's heart beat double time, while adrenaline and the old familiar itch of excitement budded in his chest. Yet his hands trembled as he opened the car door and climbed out.
He walked to the larger hangar and stuck his head in. A tall thin man wearing coveralls threw up a hand. "Hi, there. What can I do for you?"
Brady introduced himself.
"Oh, right, you're Vivica's brother. She talks about you all the time. Told us what a hotshot pilot you are."
Used to be. "I was driving by and wondered if you'd mind if I looked around."
The man, who appeared to be in his forties, stuck out his hand. "Sure don't. Name's George. I run the flying service around here, got a few pilots that keep their planes here."
"Hannah Hartwell mentioned something about wanting to start a medical flight service here."
"Yeah, they're looking into buying a chopper. Gonna need someone who knows what he's doing to take it up in the mountains. Right now all we have are those Cessnas. They can't get in and out of places a chopper could."
"Right." Brady touched the Cessna's wing. The metal felt cool and slick, comforting like an old friend.
"Check her out if you want. I need to talk to Daryl Sawyer before he takes off." He pointed to the other pilot, now preparing for flight, and Brady thanked him.
Pushing memories of the crash from his mind, he climbed inside the plane. Baby steps– wasn't that what the psychologist who'd evaluated him after the crash had said? She'd diagnosed him as having post-traumatic stress disorder and assured him he'd recover little by little. She'd told him talking about the accident would help rid himself of the guilt.
But he hadn't been able to do that. He'd bottled up his feelings until he felt like a bottle with a cork ready to blow.
But he was taking a step today. He moved into the cockpit and slid into the seat, breathing deeply to calm himself. He could do this; he could face his demons. And maybe he could actually fly again, someday.
He ran his hand along the seat, reached out to touch the control panel, but his fingers began to shake, his heart to pound. You can do this. Get a grip.
He rubbed his fingers along the radio, reviewed the checklist on the clipboard, remembering all the steps that needed to be checked before takeoff. He mentally went through those steps, checked the gas and looked out onto the runway.
Josh's face appeared in front of him, his eyes wide with fear, his hair matted with blood, fire licking at him. Brady coughed and let out a groan, voices echoing in his head.
"Pull up, pull up, you're too close to the mountain!"
"Something's wrong, man. I'm going down."
"Eject! Now, Josh!"
"I'm trying. The eject button's malfunctioning!"
The Cessna's windshield became a blur, the images of the crash reeling across it like a horror show on a movie screen. Brady dragged himself from the plane, leaning against its metal flank to get some air, nearly choking on the unshed tears clogged in his throat.
* * *
Alison felt dizzy from the scents in the floral shop, almost as dizzy as she had this morning after her swim.
She'd felt Brady's eyes on her, had known the moment he'd appeared. And she hadn't been able to stop herself from kissing him.
"Hello, Earth to Alison." Vivica waved her hand in front of Alison's face. "We were talking about the flowers."
"Oh, right. Sorry."
Vivica laughed. "That's okay, but I'd love to know what you were thinking. You had this really weird look on your face."
Alison picked a rose from the assortment on the counter and sniffed it. "What kind of look?"
"Like you were thinking of somebody." Vivica grinned. "A man. Maybe my brother?"
Alison laughed. "Don't be silly. How could you tell that from a look?"
"Your cheeks were flushed."
"They were not." Alison batted at her with the tip of the rose. "Now, choose your flowers so we can have lunch. I'm starved."
"Okay, but we will finish this discussion. I want to talk to you about Brady."
Alison opened her mouth to argue, but Vivica silenced her with a warning look. "I want yellow roses in my bridal bouquet, and how about the bridesmaids carry white?"
"That'll look great with the pale blue bridesmaids' dresses," Alison said. "We can add shades of green for accents. I'll have the florist make you a special throwaway bouquet so you can preserve the one you carry in the ceremony."
"Perfect." Vivica hugged her. "I never would have thought of that."
Alison helped Vivica place the order, suggesting she could save money by using fresh flowers for the reception, and Vivica agreed.
"The more money we'll have to spend on our honeymoon." She paused and grabbed Alison's hand. "You and Brady didn't take a honeymoon, did you?"
Alison nearly dropped her clipboard. "He told you?"
"Yes." Vivica chuckled. "Actually, I kind of dragged it out of him."
Alison blew out a shaky breath. "It was a long time ago."
"Not so long ago that you two don't still love each other."
"Vivi—"
"We're going to discuss this, Ali." Vivica pulled her outside and they ducked into the Hotspot.
Alison checked quickly, grateful her mother and father weren't around. They waved to Mimi, who sat huddled with Seth, having lunch. Seth had dozens of pamphlets of baby paraphernalia spread on the table, while Mimi cuddled a big yellow elephant Seth had obviously bought.