Tucker's Bride

by Lois M. Richer

  A thought swam into her mind and grew more logical every second she thought about it.

  “It’s nerves.” She said it out loud, the words sending a rush of relief through her veins. “Just a silly case of awkward jitters. Tucker’s been away a long time. He’ll need a few days to get things back into perspective, especially since his best friend is dead. I just have to be patient a little longer.”

  In seven years, patience had solved a lot of problems for Ginny. Maybe it would again.

  “All right, then,” she told herself, studying the glow of the streetlights of Jubilee Junction in the shallow valley below her. “I’ll just wait for Tucker to come to me. Once he’s settled in, we’ll pick up where we left off. Then we’ll talk about marriage. I’m sure of it.”

  She hunched over the wheel to catch the sky’s changing patterns. A pink hue banded a wide swath from east to west. Wasn’t that a heavenly blessing on her decision?

  Ginny nodded. “Patience, girl. Let him make the first move.”

  An unopened can of soda sat in the cup holder. She flipped the top open and held up the tin in a toast to herself.

  “Well, Virginia Brown, your dreams may finally be coming true. Go boldly forward. Don’t ever look back.”

  She took a swig of the drink, then wiggled her nose as the sickly sweet liquid rolled down her throat and bubbles tickled inside her nose. The vent blew directly on the can and had heated the soda to a lukewarm fizzle that didn’t appeal. Ginny decided to dump the rest.

  Perhaps that was why she didn’t notice until it was too late to protest.

  The passenger door opened, and Tucker Townsend climbed inside, eyes glinting with a remnant of that old boyish charm.

  “Hi, Gin. I knew I’d find you here.”

  He knew? He remembered this spot, but he didn’t remember his promise?

  “Hi, Tucker.” She emptied the soda onto the ground outside her window, then thrust the empty can into the bag she kept for just such a purpose. “I didn’t expect to see you out here so late.” Let him make the first move.

  “It’s not that late, Gin. You don’t still have a curfew, do you?” His smile slashed across his scarred face and begged her to play along.

  “A self-imposed one,” she told him. She wiggled her toes in the wave of warm air she had directed downward. “I should be getting home. I’m sure you’re tired, too. Couldn’t we talk tomorrow, Tucker?”

  “Sure.” He picked up her shoes, whistled, then tossed them into the back seat. “Some things never change. You’re still trying to make a statement, aren’t you, Gin?”

  He sounded—disinterested. As if he didn’t really care. Ginny frowned.

  “I don’t have to make a statement here,” she told him. “Everyone knows me, knows who I am, what I am. I’ve lived in Jubilee Junction a long time, Tucker. I’m the same person I always was. What you see is exactly what you get.”

  His eyes stayed on her, assessing, studying, considering.

  “I know,” he murmured. “That’s what I counted on.”

  “What you counted on?” A hot tide of embarrassment rose up her neck. That didn’t sound like a compliment. It sure didn’t sound like a man who could hardly wait to reunite with the woman he’d promised to marry!

  Ginny shifted the car into gear, biting her trembling lip. This wasn’t what she’d planned at all. Now that Tucker was finally home, all she wanted was to run away from that cool, calculating look in his eyes.

  “We can talk tomorrow, Tucker.”

  “Wait!” His hand came out, stopped hers. “Please, just wait a minute.”

  Reluctantly, Ginny returned the gearshift to Park. She leaned back in her seat, tugged her hand from beneath his and waited. When he didn’t speak, she finally glanced up.

  His face had lost all animation, and what little color he’d had earlier had drained away. Her heart picked up its beat at the cheekbones jutting out, but she ruthlessly ignored the urge to soothe. Something told her now was the time for hard truth.

  “What do you want from me, Tucker?”

  “Help.” His voice burst out on a ragged plea that echoed through her car.

  “Help?” She stared at him. That was it? Confusion rippled through her brain. “Help with what?”

  This didn’t make any sense. Tucker’s fingers clenched the armrest, his body ramrod stiff in his seat, his eyes glazed over with something that made Ginny cringe in fear.

  “Help with facing the truth.” The words seemed to choke out of their own volition, as if he resisted saying them but couldn’t stop them.

  “What truth?”

  His breath whooshed out in short gasps. He looked at her, and the wealth of suffering in his eyes brought tears to hers.

  “Tucker, please. Tell me what’s wrong. I’m trying to understand, but you have to tell me.”

  “Thanks, Gin, but I see now that it was a mistake to come here. You can’t help.” He lifted a hand, touched her cheek with a dry, mirthless smile, then let it fall away. “No one can. The blame sits squarely on me, and I can’t avoid it, no matter how hard I try.”

  “What blame?” She was afraid to hear him say it, whatever it was. Something dark, menacing, clung to him. Something she sensed could cause havoc with her cherished plans.

  “I’ve done a terrible thing, Gin. I’ve committed a crime worse than the ones I’ve spent seven years covering. I’m no better than a murderer. That’s why God’s abandoned me.”

  Chapter Two

  “Tucker!”

  Ginny couldn’t help the gasp that burst from her. Nor could she stop staring at him, trying to figure out what had changed about Tucker Townsend that made him seem both harsh and yet so pitiful.

  “Wh-what do you mean—murderer?” She whispered the words with a trickle of dread she couldn’t quite conceal. “Tucker, that’s ridiculous! Don’t say it again.”

  “Why not? It’s true.”

  She watched the despair cloud his eyes, the discouragement hunch his shoulders. This broken man showed none of the brash, take-it-on-the-chin characteristics the old Tucker had reveled in.

  Ginny tried again, strove to find something to cheer him. Encouragement, that always worked.

  “Tucker, God doesn’t abandon anyone.”

  “Doesn’t He?” His brown eyes flickered, stared into hers, then he peered out the windshield. His grim countenance didn’t alter one whit. “He’s abandoned me.”

  “You don’t really believe that. Do you?” Ginny frowned, uncertainty dogging her.

  “Yes.”

  How could she argue with such obvious hopelessness?

  “Well, you’re wrong. God is always there, always listening, always hearing, waiting for us to return to Him.”

  Brave words. Her conscience applauded. But for all their sanctimonious sound, they didn’t dent Tucker’s torture. He shook his head wearily.

  “Only for so long. Then He gives up. I stepped over that threshold, Ginny. I should have realized I was going too far, that I was asking too much, but I willfully kept pushing until a man died. Because of me.”

  There it was again, that implication that he’d committed some crime. Why? What was behind this?

  Ginny was about to speak when the shrill peal of her phone echoed around the inside of her car. The sound stopped the words on her lips. What now?

  “Dad?” He was the only one who would be calling her at this time of night. “Are you all right, Dad?”

  A yawning silence, then the agonized words.

  “I need help, honey.”

  That was all she needed to hear.

  “I’ll be there in less than five minutes. Hang on, Dad. Hang on.” She clicked the phone shut, shifted the car into gear and began backing out, only to realize that Tucker was still seated beside her.

  “I have to go. You’d better get out now, go back in your own vehicle.”

  “I walked. I’ll go with you. Maybe there’s something I can do to help.” A ripple of interest brought amazing life in
to his battered face.

  Ginny didn’t argue. She couldn’t, she had to get home. As she drove down the hill and wheeled around curves in a shortcut to her home, she bit her lip.

  She should have been at home, should have been right there for her father, instead of mooning over a man who only wanted her help.

  So Tucker was back—what did that mean to her? Of course she was sorry he’d been injured, that he had questions about his faith. But didn’t everyone? What made him think she had any answers?

  With a jerk, Ginny braked to a halt in her driveway, her eyes riveted on the old brick house.

  “Please God, let him be all right.”

  She searched for her shoes, remembered Tucker had tossed them in the back seat and abandoned the quest. She grabbed her keys from the console, shoved her door open and raced to the front door, ignoring the cold that stabbed against the soles of her feet through her thin stockings. What did a little cold matter when her father was sick?

  Her fingers fumbled as she fought to unlock the door.

  “I’ll do it.” Tucker took her keys, clicked the lock, then thrust open the door without hesitation. “Go.”

  Ginny flew into the den after one startled moment. Tucker was still here?

  Her father lay hunched over in his recliner, hands clenching his side, his face pinched and gray with pain.

  “When did you take the last pill?” Ginny demanded, checking for signs of distress in the shriveled figure. “Dad?” Her fingers circled his wrist, counting off the beats as she’d been taught.

  “Didn’t take it,” he gasped, his eyes flickering open long enough to take in the sight of his daughter and the man behind her. “Thought I could manage without.” He closed his eyes, wincing with pain. “Stupid.”

  “Very.” Forcing herself to calm down, Ginny strode to the bathroom, grabbed the kit the doctor had given her for just such emergencies and selected what she needed. Then she hurried back to the den.

  Tucker stood beside her father, his eyes almost black in the light from the lamp. When he saw what she carried, he rolled up her father’s sleeve without being asked.

  “Thanks.”

  Ginny uncapped the syringe. In sure, steady moves that hid her stammering nerves, she swiped the area with an alcohol swab, then plunged the needle directly into her father’s muscle and emptied the liquid into his system.

  It took less than two minutes for the drug to take effect. Gradually the grayness eased, the fingers unclenched, the weary body relaxed.

  “Thanks, honey. I fell asleep here, didn’t realize I’d left my pills upstairs. Then the pain started and I couldn’t get to them. It was pretty bad this time.” He apologized bashfully, his face regaining its smile as he spoke.

  “You’re supposed to keep them with you at all times.” She knew her voice was sharp, but Ginny couldn’t help it. He’d scared her. “You can’t afford to forget, Dad. You’ve got to keep yourself healthy. Staying up late, drinking this—” she picked up the half cup of coffee and raised an eyebrow “—none of it helps. You know what the doctors said. Until they figure out what’s causing this…”

  “I know. Don’t fuss. It was just one cup, honey. It’s been so long since I had a decent cup of coffee.”

  “Nobody in their right mind would call this coffee decent,” she muttered, plopping the tarry concoction down.

  Ginny saw him sigh and relented, knowing just how hard it was for her father to do without all the things he loved. Taken in the whole, coffee was a relatively small transgression.

  “Time for bed, Dad. Can you make it up the stairs?” She ignored Tucker’s gasp of surprise as her sickly father faltered to his feet, his thin arms shaking with the effort of elevating himself.

  “I’ll be fine.” Adrian Brown ignored his daughter, his focus entirely on Tucker.

  “Hello, sir. It’s good to see you again.”

  “You’re back.” The words were noncommital.

  “Yes.”

  “For how long?”

  “I’m not sure.” To his credit, Tucker didn’t back down, even though the frosty tone should have quelled him. He glanced at Ginny. “I guess that depends on your daughter.”

  Ginny’s head whirled around so fast she saw stars.

  “On me?” she squeaked, joy fluttering with apprehension at his words. “What does your visit here have to do with me?”

  Adrian Brown nodded. “Good question. I’d like to know the answer myself.”

  It was obvious Tucker was uncomfortable. His lids drooped over his eyes, hiding whatever explanation Ginny might have found there. His hands knotted in front of him. Then, as he became aware of what he was doing, he tore them apart and shoved them into his pockets.

  “I take it you didn’t return to keep your promise.”

  Ginny almost laughed as her father’s cranky tones broke the yawning silence with the one question that lay uppermost on her mind. Dad must be feeling better. Trust him to blurt out what everyone else was thinking.

  She glanced at Tucker.

  Devastation slapped her in the face as he shifted his glance away from hers, his face tinged the faint pink of embarrassment. Truth plunged through her heart. He wasn’t back to marry her. He probably hadn’t even given the promise a second thought.

  Ginny scrambled to hide her hurt.

  “It doesn’t matter why he’s back, Dad. His problems can wait.” She wanted her father tucked up in bed. Now.

  Ginny’s father snorted his disgust. “I’m not dying, you know. It was just a little spell. It didn’t render me brainless. Tell me why you’re here, Tucker.”

  “I can’t. I have to talk it over with Ginny first.”

  Ginny didn’t dare think what his words meant. Tucker thrust his chin out belligerently as he glared at the older man. She was fairly certain Tucker hadn’t been ordered around for years. Clearly he didn’t like it. But her father wasn’t backing down, either.

  “My daughter and I have no secrets from each other. I’m sure she won’t mind if you let me in on this little conundrum of yours.” Little by little Adrian regained some of his height.

  Ginny frowned. The last part of her father’s sentence came out whisper soft. His fingers tightened around her arm as he struggled to remain upright. He wasn’t all right. He needed rest, not more problems. Why couldn’t Tucker have waited, saved whatever he had to say until she got her father to bed?

  Why didn’t he ask his former fiancée for help? The one he proposed to when he was supposed to marry her?

  It was an uncharitable thought and one she immediately regretted. But the weight of all her problems seemed too heavy tonight. She felt stretched out, overextended.

  “Sorry, boys,” she interjected, her voice sharp. “We’re not doing this right now. Come on, Dad. You need to go to bed. It doesn’t matter what Tucker wants to ask me. Whatever it is, it can wait.”

  She saw Tucker’s mouth open in protest and flashed him a look that silenced him.

  “We’ll visit with Tucker tomorrow, Dad. You can talk all you want. But for now, I think you need to rest.”

  Her father nodded, turned to cross the room in his halting gait.

  “Maybe you’re right, honey. I do feel kind of shaky.” He patted the hand still threaded through his arm. “Thanks for getting here so fast, Ginny.”

  She bussed his cheek with her fist.

  “And no speeding ticket, either,” she teased.

  She helped her father up the stairs, waited while he undressed, then tucked him in bed, ensuring his pills were in plain view on the nightstand, right beside his water.

  “That shot should take care of things for tonight. If you feel like you need a pill, you’d better call me first. I want to read the doctor’s instructions. There’s supposed to be a lapse of time after the shot.”

  “I won’t need another pill. I’m too tired to stay awake.” Her father’s pallid face faded into the white of his pillowcase. “I’ll be fine in the morning.”

  “Of
course you will. Good night, Dad. Sleep well.” She leaned down to kiss his cheek, her eyes alert for any signs of pain or discomfort. She found none.

  “Ginny?” His hand reached up to grasp hers. “Whatever Tucker wants, regardless of your past, you know you’ll have to help him, don’t you?”

  She frowned. “Why do you say that?”

  “That boy’s in trouble, honey. You can see it in his eyes.” His forehead pleated in a frown. “I don’t know why he hightailed it back to this neck of the woods, but it’s obvious he’s looking for something. After seven years, it must be something mighty big to send him back here.”

  “He’s got a lot of questions about God, Dad. I think he just needs some faith bolstering.” Ginny shrugged as if it didn’t matter one way or the other that Tucker hadn’t mentioned marriage. “I’ll send him on to the pastor. He’s a good counselor.”

  “He is, but I don’t think Tucker can find what he needs from the pastor. I think he’s depending on you.” Adrian’s eyes flopped closed, and his breathing slowed to a regular rhythm that told her his medication had finally taken over.

  “Good night, Dad,” she whispered, then tiptoed out of the room, pulling the door closed behind her.

  By the time she made it to the bottom of the stairs, Ginny drooped with fatigue. She wanted a cup of hot chocolate, a hot bath and lots of sleep. In that order. She certainly didn’t want to deal with any more questions—her own or anyone else’s.

  “Is he all right?” Tucker stepped out of the shadows, his eyes dark, confused.

  “For now.” She walked past him into the kitchen. Tucker followed. Ginny ignored him and plugged the kettle in. “At least he’ll sleep.”

  “He doesn’t look well, Gin.”

  For some reason, the old nickname irritated her. She whirled to glare at him. Was that all he could think of to say to her—after seven years?

  “That’s because he isn’t well,” she blurted. She snatched two mugs out of the cupboard and spooned in hot-chocolate mix with careless abandon.

  “What’s wrong with him? Is it his heart or something? He never seemed like the kind of person who would have a heart attack. He’s always so controlled.” Tucker snagged a chair with his foot and sank into it.