A Wedding to Remember

by Joanna Sims

  “Come on.” Bruce grabbed her hand and began to lead her down the shadowed path to the front steps of the mansion.

  “Wait.” This was said in a loud whisper. “It’s closed.”

  “We’re not going inside.”

  Bruce led her up the front steps of the mansion, while she continued to protest in harsh whispers. Savannah stopped at yellow lights, never walked on grass if there was a Keep Off sign, while he liked to break a rule every once in a while.

  On the porch now, he put his arm around his wife’s shoulders, holding her next to him, as they looked out at the view of the street where they were just standing.

  “We are trespassing.”

  “This is a public park.”

  “That’s currently closed.”

  “Just stand here with me, sugar.” Bruce leaned his head down to hers. “Just for a minute.”

  His wife stopped protesting and stood very still beside him, as if she wanted to turn into an unnoticeable statue in case a passerby spotted them.

  “This is where we first kissed,” Bruce reminded her. “Right here.”

  Yes, he had gone to school with Savannah all of his life; but he’d never really known her, other than the immature labels he had assigned her in his young mind: nerd, brain, Goody Two-shoes. But the day that a passionate, self-possessed Savannah lit into him about the impact of his fraternity’s debauchery on Story Mansion during a pledge keg party, that was the day that they truly met. She had verbally sliced and diced him in a way no one in his life had ever done, and instead of being offended, he’d felt attracted to her fiery, intelligent eyes, her command of the English language, her flushed cheeks and the little gap between her two front teeth.

  She didn’t care that he was the president of the fraternity, or heir to Sugar Creek Ranch or the captain of the football team. Savannah cared about deeper issues, and he found himself oddly hooked from that day forward. He’d taken her tongue-lashing, found her devotion to an old, kind of smelly house rather charming, and the passion he saw in her hazel eyes sexy. Just as she was wrapping up her ardent plea for Story Mansion, Bruce had kissed Savannah. Right then, right there, without any warning. It had, quite honestly, been a shock to them both. And that unexpected kiss had been the start of their love affair.

  “I admit I was a little too zealous back then,” she whispered back. “But I just believed so deeply that this beautiful place needed to be preserved for generations to come. This is our history—history that we can see and feel and imagine what life could have been like for the people who came before.”

  Bruce turned her in his arms as he murmured, “There it is.”

  In the soft yellow light from the street, he read the question on her face, which he answered.

  “That passion I fell in love with.” He brushed her hair back away from her shoulders. “Right here on this porch.”

  This was the place that he wanted to solidify his recommitment to their marriage; this was the spot where he wanted to cross the invisible line he had between himself and Savannah.

  Bruce cupped her face with his hands and touched his lips to hers; just that simple light touch wasn’t enough. Her lips parted and her arms slipped around his body. His wife, his lovely wife, made a pleasurable little sound as he deepened the kiss. They stood together, holding each other, kissing as if for the first time, surrounded by the brick and stone and wood that had withstood the test of time for over one hundred years.

  “I love you.” Savannah had her head resting on his chest, her arms around him holding him so tightly.

  Bruce closed his eyes for a second, pushing back a rush of emotion. He thought he’d never kiss Savannah again; to have her back in his life, even after all this time passed, still seemed like a dream from which he did not want to awaken.

  “And I love you, my beautiful wife.” He kissed the top of her head. “I love you.”

  * * *

  Bruce sent a text to his stepmother to ask her to keep the dogs overnight. Tonight, Savannah realized, was the night that her husband wanted to be all about them as a couple. Everything he had planned for her, from the roses, to the dinner, to the evening walk and stolen kisses on the porch of Story Mansion—he had pulled out all of the romantic stops. He was wooing her and it had worked. All of the distance she had wanted to put between them, in reaction to the emotional walls he had erected, fell away.

  Still a little bit tipsy, Savannah twirled in the living room when they arrived home, making her skirt swing out around her legs. Dizzy, she laughed and fell back onto the couch.

  “This was the most amazing night.” She smiled at her handsome husband. “Thank you.”

  Bruce hung his hat on the hook just inside the door; there was a look in his stunning blue eyes that touched her in the most intimate places in her body.

  “Is the night over?” he asked her.

  Savannah’s laugh quieted. “I don’t want it to be.”

  Bruce crossed to her, offered her his hand.

  She slipped her hand into her husband’s warm, calloused one. He helped her stand and then led her into the bedroom. Tonight, there wouldn’t be a canine wall separating them. Tonight, there wouldn’t be anything between them.

  Savannah sat on the edge of the bed, leaned down to unbuckle the straps on her heels and slipped her feet out of the shoes while Bruce lit candles in the bathroom. The physical side of their marriage had never waned, at least not in her memory; the lovemaking had been just as passionate, and satisfying and adventurous as it had been from the first time they loved each other. The moment she heard her husband running the water in the oversized claw-foot tub, specifically selected because it was roomy enough for two, Savannah knew what Bruce had in mind. Yes, they enjoyed making love in the bed. But making love in the tub, with the slippery, warm water as a natural lubricant, had always been their favorite spot.

  She joined her husband in the bathroom; Savannah unbuttoned his shirt, exposing his chest. She ran her hands over his chest, lightly scratching the chest hair and skin with her fingernails. He stood still for her, letting her explore his body, letting her kiss his neck before she slipped his shirt off his shoulders and tossed it on the bathroom counter.

  “Hmm.” She ran her hand over the bulge in his jeans.

  Bruce was ready for her; and without him so much as touching her with his lips or his fingers, her body was ready for him.

  Her husband hooked his finger on the belt of her wrap dress and tugged her forward; he kissed her, deep, long—a promise of the pleasure to come. Bruce undressed her then, unwrapping the layers of her dress and undergarments until she was naked before him. No man had ever made her feel as beautiful or desirable as Bruce did. He loved her from the inside outward.

  She closed her eyes with a little gasp when he kissed her neck while his fingers stroked the sensitive skin of her breasts and her stomach and the curve of her derriere. Savannah reached between their bodies to unbutton and unzip his jeans.

  “You’re shivering,” Bruce said as he kissed the side of her neck. “Get in the tub and I’ll be right behind you.”

  Savannah sank down into the hot water, sighing at the feel of the water enveloping her body. She turned off the water, not wanting it to spill over the edge of the tub when her husband joined her.

  “It’s perfect in here.” She arched her back to submerge her hair in the water.

  Bruce watched her as he stripped off his jeans. Until she’d met her husband, she had never known how much she enjoyed having a man watch her, to admire her naked body. She had discovered her own true sexuality with Bruce.

  In the candlelight, her husband’s body, to her mind, was a thing of beauty—muscular from a life working on the ranch, with hard, sinewy muscle on his thighs, his arms and shoulders. He wasn’t an extraordinarily tall man, but he was an extraordinarily well-built
man.

  “Do you like what you see?” Bruce asked her, standing unabashed in his nakedness.

  Savannah moved to kneel before him in the water; her eyes drifted down to his erection, the proof of his desire for her.

  “Yes.” She reached for him. “I do.”

  Cupping him in her hands, she took him into her mouth, loving the sound of his groan, and the feel of his hands in her hair.

  “That’s going to get me in trouble,” Bruce said in a tight voice.

  As her lips left him, her hands stroked him. “Then hurry up and join me before the water gets cold.”

  Bruce stepped into the tub, sank down in the water behind her and then pulled her into his arms. Skin to slippery skin, her husband’s strong fingers massaged her breasts while he kissed the water from her shoulder and neck.

  “I have missed this—you have no idea,” Bruce said in a raspy, strained tone, his hand slipping between her thighs to cover her slick center.

  Savannah arched back, pushing into his hand. “Yes,” she gasped, “I do.”

  She spun in his arms, sloshing water on the floor, and hovered above his body, her hands braced on his shoulders. Bruce wrapped his arms around her, hugging her to him, his mouth hot on her breast.

  “I need you, Savannah.” He grazed her nipple with his teeth. “I need you.”

  It was too long between moments for them; she sank down, slipping him inside of her. A perfect fit—so thick and hard, he filled her completely.

  With one arm, he lifted her forward, the water swirling around their bodies, so she could sit down completely and wrap her legs around his hips. Her moans mingled with his as their bodies melded together. She took his face in her hands, kissed his lips as he moved inside of her.

  “Baby—I’ve got to come.”

  “It’s okay.” She held on to him as he bucked beneath her. “It’s okay.”

  Bruce came with a loud growl, grabbing her shoulders and pulling her body down ono his. As he shuddered beneath her, catching his breath, she leaned into him, loving this moment in his arms.

  “I’m sorry,” he apologized. “I wanted it to last longer.”

  Savannah slipped her body free of his with a laugh, and echoed his words earlier. “Is the night over?”

  That sexual glint returned to his eyes when he realized that she was ready and willing to go another round. “Not for me.”

  * * *

  It was his pleasure to dry off his wife’s body and carry her to bed. He laid her down, her skin still a little damp, and indulged Savannah, loving her with his mouth and his tongue, until she was arching her back, reaching for him and writhing with desire. It was the time his body needed to recover, to recharge and to harden. Bruce covered Savannah’s body with his and joined them together once again. This time, he loved her slow and long, knowing her body as he knew his own, driving her to climax, one right after the other, until she was screaming and out of breath, their bodies slick with sweat.

  They rolled together so Savannah was on top, straddling him, riding him, clawing his chest with her nails. He pulled her down on top of him, slowing them down, not wanting it to end.

  “Are you coming for me, baby?”

  He could feel her heart beating against his chest, her breath shallow, the little gasps of pleasure so satisfying. He forced himself to wait until he felt that familiar tensing of her legs, that sweet sound of her panting as she began her climb to the peak of another orgasm.

  “Yes, baby—yes.” Bruce held her tight and kissed her. “You’re mine.”

  Seconds after Savannah peaked, he rolled her onto her back and pushed deep inside of her to find his own release.

  * * *

  The weeks that followed their second first date, their marriage had been a honeymoon state. They made love every chance they got, always taking the bed for themselves for lovemaking, before letting the canine family into the bedroom. They went out on more dates, going to the movies and out to dinner, trying new cuisine as they created a new foundation for their marriage. For Savannah, even though her memory still hadn’t returned, remembering wasn’t a high priority. Why would she want to go back to the reason why they split up when they were doing so well now? Why rock the boat?

  “I’m so glad we could finally make our schedules work,” Shayna Wade, a professor at Montana State University, and one of her longtime friends, told her.

  “Me, too,” Savannah agreed. Spending time with her family and friends had, day by day, made her feel very nearly like her old self—the self before the accident.

  After they ordered their food, Shayna put her glass down and said, “I really wish you’d consider going back to school. I know you love being a teacher, but you always wanted to get your PhD. I’d love to have you on faculty with me.”

  “I’m not ruling it out.”

  “Good.” Her friend seemed pleased with her answer.

  “But right now, honestly, I’m just really focused on my therapy and my marriage.”

  “Your speech is so much better—you sound like you again.”

  “I’ve made a lot of progress,” Savannah agreed with a smile. “I just want to keep on making progress.”

  They talked nonstop during lunch, catching up for the time that had lapsed since they last saw each other. After the plates were taken away and they were waiting for the bill, Shayna excused herself to the restroom while Savannah took the opportunity to answer emails and texts.

  “Savannah.”

  A strange chill scurried down her spine; she looked up, and she could feel the blood drain from her face.

  “Leroy.” The word was said with a waver in her voice.

  The cowboy’s face brightened; without asking, he took a seat at the table. “You remember me?”

  She looked around for Shayna, wishing that she could disappear into the woodwork.

  “I...” She met his expectant eyes, so full of hope, and gave a little shake of her head. “No. I’m sorry. I don’t...remember you.”

  She remembered the lanky cowboy, who appeared to be younger than her, from the hospital, not from any memory before that time. But she did know that they had been dating and that it was his car she was driving when she had the accident.

  “But—” his eyes shuttered “—you do know who I am.”

  Her hands gripped her phone to keep them from shaking. She nodded her response.

  The young man’s eyes were wet with emotion. “I love you, Savannah.”

  The only response Savannah could muster was, “I’m sorry.”

  Leroy stared at her for what seemed like several very long minutes before he coughed, cleared his throat and stood up. He looked down at the wedding ring back on her finger.

  “One day you’re gonna wake up and realize you’re with the wrong man. I promise you, you’re gonna remember that you want to marry me.”

  Those words hurt her heart, and no matter how much sympathy she felt for this man, and she did feel that sympathy, those were words she did not want to hear.

  “No. I won’t.” She shook her head, her body shaking on the inside. “I’m already married.”

  Leroy turned away from her, almost bumping into Shayna in the process.

  “Shayna.” Leroy acknowledged her friend before he left the restaurant.

  “Hi, Leroy.” Shayna greeted the cowboy, then sat down, a shocked expression on her face. “Are you okay?”

  Savannah pulled some cash out of her wallet, handed it to her friend. “Will you take care of the bill? I need to go.”

  Chapter Eight

  “How are things?” Dr. Kind asked her.

  “I ran into Leroy yesterday,” Savannah blurted out. She’d been keeping it bottled up inside for an entire day and she had been anxious to sit down and talk about it with t
he psychologist.

  “And how did that feel?”

  How did that feel?

  “It felt terrible. The look on his face when I told him that I didn’t remember him... He still loves me.”

  “Are you surprised by that? He hasn’t forgotten your relationship.”

  “Well, I wish he would,” Savannah snapped. “I don’t want him to love me. I love Bruce. I’m married to Bruce.”

  “Yes,” Dr. Kind agreed. “But you were in a relationship with Leroy. That’s also true.”

  Savannah frowned. It was true—but she didn’t want it to be the truth. She couldn’t change the way she felt about that.

  “So, how are things with your marriage?”

  “We’re in a really good place right now.”

  “Intimacy?”

  “That couldn’t be going any better.” Savannah smiled. They had just made love that morning before Bruce left for a day of work on the ranch. She didn’t want anything to spoil that momentum; losing it was one of her biggest fears.

  Dr. Kind took some notes, then looked up thoughtfully. “Does it bother you that you haven’t regained your memory?”

  “No.” She played with her wedding band. “Not like it used to. Why do I want to remember why I wanted to divorce my husband? We’re happy right now—that’s what matters to me.”

  “Do you think that’s sustainable?”

  “What do you mean?”

  “Well,” the psychologist said after a pause, “up until now, your world has been sanitized. Your friends and family have agreed, with your full knowledge, to protect you from that part of your past with Bruce that triggered the separation, and ultimately, the move to divorce.”

  It was true. Her friends and family had deleted digital traces of the past several years that might be emotionally upsetting to her. She was aware of it, and she hadn’t gone out snooping to unearth images of the past several years. Was she being an ostrich and sticking her head in the sand? Yes. She was. But what was really wrong with that?

  “So, I’ll ask you again. Do you think this is sustainable? Leroy is just the first reminder of a past you have been actively avoiding. As you go back to work and live your life, pieces of that puzzle will continue to appear.”