Tucker's Bride

by Lois M. Richer

  Tucker lifted his visor, nodded. “Hey.”

  “Hey, yourself.” One of them, probably the ringleader, jerked a finger toward the bike as if ordering Tucker off. “I wanna try.”

  “Sorry. Nobody touches Betty but me.”

  “Betty?” They hooted with derisive laughter.

  Tucker pretended to ignore them. According to Coach, these kids had caused a lot of problems around town with their open defiance. Most of it happened at night, when these juvenile offenders were supposed to be at home, in bed. He’d better watch his back.

  “Yeah, Betty. She’s brand-new off the line.” He began listing mechanical statistics by rote. They probably didn’t know anything about bikes, but at least they were quiet.

  “Not bad.” One of the kids uttered a low whistle of appreciation as his hand stroked the shiny black metal. “She’s a beauty. When did you get her?”

  “A couple of weeks ago. It was one of the first things I bought after I got out of the hospital.”

  “You cracked up?”

  “No.” Tucker offered minimal information about the injuries he’d sustained. “Once I was okayed for driving, I could hardly wait to get out on the open road.”

  “Yeah. Freedom, man.” The carrot-headed boy jerked his head as if he totally understood. “That’s cool. Me, I’m not going to report to anyone. When I make eighteen, I’ll hit the road and be my own boss. No more rules.”

  “There are always rules.” Who knew that better than him? Tucker unsnapped his helmet and pulled it off. “You can’t get away from them. What’s your name?”

  “Tom.” The boy huffed, glancing around his to see the impact of his words on the others. “You can always get away from the rules, man. You just do your own thing and ignore everybody else. Forget all the dos and don’ts.”

  “Might work on a desert island,” Tucker agreed, “but it doesn’t sound like much of a life to me.”

  “Aw, what do you know?” Tom kicked the front tire of the bike. “You’ve probably been living in this hick town all your life. I’ll bet you never drive more than five miles outside this hillbilly town when you crank this thing up.” He turned away, motioning to the others. “C’mon, guys, this hotshot’s a deadbeat.”

  “Actually,” Tucker muttered, “I know exactly what I’m talking about. This is the first time I’ve been back to Jubilee Junction in seven years.” Why had he let them con that out of him?

  “Oh, yeah?” Tom turned around, interest flickering through eyes that pretended bravado. “Where you been?”

  “Lots of places.” Tucker told them about his job.

  “You don’t look famous to me.” Tom’s bottom lip curled. “No way you’re a celebrity.”

  “I didn’t say I was famous.” Tucker flopped down on the grass. If nothing else, these kids were good for keeping his ego in check. “How many news programs do you watch, Tom?”

  “None. Dead boring bunch of garbage.” He hunkered down beside Tucker and snicked a piece of grass to shove between his teeth. “The guy I’m staying with, he’s big into that stuff. Runs the newspaper.”

  “Marty Owens. I know him. Runs a good paper.” Marty was sixty if he was a day and had never looked after a kid in his life. The newspaper was his baby. “How come you’re staying with Marty?”

  Tom’s slight shoulders jerked back in a defensive stance. He glared at Tucker. “Why’d you want to know?”

  “Just wondered. You have something to hide?”

  The other boys lunged onto the grass, too, their grins teasing.

  “If he does, he blew it. Tom’s fires aren’t exactly a secret.”

  Tucker watched as Tom clenched his lips. The boy ignored the others. He stared straight ahead. When he spoke, his voice was tight, barely controlled.

  “I’m doing them a favor, see? Mr. Owens needs money, so he said he’d be a foster father. I got picked to be the guinea pig for some new program the legal system thinks will turn me into an angel.” He smirked as one thumb jerked over his shoulder. “We all did. Lucky us.”

  The other boys added their comments as the front door of the house squeaked open. Tucker turned. Ginny stood on the threshold, her eyes wide as she took in the motley group.

  “Hi, Tucker. Friends of yours?”

  Tucker wanted to shout with laughter. That was Ginny. She took everything in stride—even six punky-looking kids.

  “We just met,” he told her, grinning.

  “Hey, lady, what’s that smell?” Tom twisted to better catch the aroma wafting from the house.

  “Chocolate brownies,” Tucker told him, his nose twitching. “With peanut butter fudge icing.” He closed his eyes and let the sensations overwhelm him. How many times had Ginny cooked his favorite treat in the old days?

  “I just took them out of the oven. They’re for dessert.”

  Tucker opened his eyes in time to see the kid next to Tom nudge his neighbor.

  “Chocolate brownies,” he whispered in awe.

  Tucker hid his smile, but it wasn’t easy. “How long have you lived here, Tom?”

  The kid’s eyes narrowed with suspicion.

  “I’m serious. A couple of days?”

  “Two months,” Tom blurted. “Why?”

  “You’ve been here two months and you never found out about Ginny’s brownies?” Tucker shook his head. “Sad, really sad. You guys have no idea what you’ve missed.”

  Every single boy licked his lips.

  “They’re that good?” one squeaked in a voice that puberty was altering.

  “Better,” Tucker told him seriously.

  “I was just going to put some burgers on the grill,” Ginny murmured. “Would your friends like to join us?”

  Since she’d invited him over for a fried fish dinner, Tucker figured she’d deliberately changed the menu. He didn’t know why, exactly, but she’d lived here longer. Maybe she knew something he didn’t. He’d go with her instincts.

  Tucker studied the bunch of them. “You guys up for some burgers?”

  They all nodded, except for Tom.

  “Burgers and brownies?” he demanded, his eyes on Ginny.

  She shrugged. “Sure, if you want. I’m allergic to chocolate, and Dad can’t have it. I only made them for Tucker.”

  “I guess I could eat something.” Tom lurched to his feet and sauntered toward the door.

  Tucker had to hurry to beat him. He planted himself in the middle of the doorframe, beside Ginny, and stared. Tom stared right back.

  “Thank you,” he said softly.

  “Huh?” Tom pretended he hadn’t understood, but the flush on his cheeks gave him away. “What’re you talking about?”

  “It’s customary to say thank-you when someone invites you to eat with them.” Tucker crossed his arms over his chest and waited, sincerely hoping they wouldn’t test him on this. He was feeling better than he had in weeks, but no way could he protect Ginny if push came to shove.

  A hiss of frustration emanated from the redhead’s lips. “Yeah, sure. Thanks.” Tom thrust his chin out defiantly.

  “You’re welcome. Now, come on in.” Ginny tugged on Tucker’s arm, nudging him out of the way. “The phone’s over there. You guys need to call home and ask permission to stay. Then we’ll start grilling. Tucker, you come with me.”

  She practically dragged him into the kitchen, her fingernails poking into his arm.

  “Take it easy with those nails,” he told her, rubbing the spot. “They’ll probably steal something, you know. I can’t imagine why you invited them in. We were supposed to talk.”

  “Sorry.” She smiled. “I didn’t mean to hurt you. I was just trying to get you out of the way.” She handed him a packet of matches. “We will talk.”

  “I mean to each other. You promised to help me, remember?” Tucker sighed when Ginny opened the back door and pointed to the barbecue.

  “Light it, please,” she said, then turned to pull a packet of burgers from the freezer. When he didn’t move, she s
ighed, stopped what she was doing and faced him. “We’ll talk, Tucker. I promised to help if I could, and I will. I just thought it would be nice if those kids joined us. I don’t expect it’s easy being an outcast.”

  “Is that what they are?” He walked out the patio door, lit the barbecue and closed the lid so it would heat up. “Your dad’s not going to be impressed.”

  Ginny glanced at him through the kitchen window and grinned. Tucker walked inside.

  “He’ll love it. We don’t have enough company.” Her hands moved in a flash, slicing tomatoes, setting cheese slices, pickles and lettuce on a platter. “Mustard, ketchup and relish I’ve got,” she murmured. “What about onions?”

  “I hate onions.” Tom sauntered through the doorway, his face drawn into the hard lines he used to show his toughness. “And you better not give him any.” He jerked a thumb at Tucker.

  “Why not?” Tucker demanded. “I like onions on my burger.”

  “Maybe she doesn’t like kissing onion breath.” Tom grinned at their shocked looks, then nudged his snickering friends.

  Tucker fumed. For two cents he’d send them home—without burgers. But one look at Ginny and he reconsidered. She was laughing.

  “Nice one, Tom. You think fast on your feet. I bet you’re a whiz at school.” She handed him the platter of burgers. “You can go and start these if you want. Just don’t let them burn. I don’t eat charcoal. Here, guys, there’s something for each of you. Picnic table’s on the deck through that door. Put everything out there.”

  They did as she asked, toting out plates, glasses and condiments like obedient soldiers.

  “We’re lucky it’s turned so warm.” She emptied frozen orange juice into a pitcher and mixed it with water. “Eating outside makes things taste so much better.”

  “He has the wrong idea, Gin.” Tucker had to say it to clarify that he wasn’t nursing any romantic intentions toward her. He didn’t want to hurt her, but he didn’t want to leave expectations he couldn’t fulfill, either.

  She whirled, hair tumbling over her shoulders in a riot of curls. As usual when she was ticked at him, Ginny couldn’t hide the glint in those emerald-green eyes. Tucker shifted from one foot to the other. Didn’t she know he didn’t want to hurt her?

  “Fine. He has the wrong idea. I know the truth. So do you. Isn’t that what’s important?” She sighed. “They’re teenagers, Tuck. They’re trying to get your goat. Will you please relax?”

  “I just didn’t want…”

  “Me to harbor any illusions about your motives for being here,” she finished. “I’ve got it, okay? I understand, Tucker.”

  Tucker thought her eyes misted over, but there was nothing misty about her voice. It was calm, steady and a little angry.

  “Don’t believe me, huh? All right, then. How about this—we’re not getting married, you don’t love me, you can never love me because love is something you’re fresh out of. There, does that about cover the issue?”

  Without waiting for his response, she grabbed the juice and stomped out the door. Tucker called himself a fool in three different African dialects before he joined her outside. Maybe he hadn’t wanted to hurt her, but it seemed as if he was doing just that.

  “You’re back, I see,” said Ginny’s father. Adrian Brown sat on a lounger, his glasses perched on the end of his nose, the local newspaper spread across his lap.

  “Yeah, I’m back. I hope it’s okay. The kids just sort of showed up.” He probably should have asked her dad if it was okay before he let Ginny drag the boys in to eat them out of house and home, Tucker told himself.

  “I’m glad they came.” Adrian grinned. “I like to think they can come here. They need a stabilizing influence.” He smiled, his eyes on Ginny as she chucked a football to Tom. Her toss easily covered the length of the huge backyard. “Would you mind checking those burgers? I get indigestion from burned food.”

  Tucker checked, then sank beside Ginny’s father in a white chair.

  “I guess you noticed that I hurt her again,” he muttered. “I can’t seem to stop doing that.”

  “I heard your conversation.” Adrian shrugged. “It might be an idea to stop rehashing the past. Forget it. Pretend you’ve only known each other for a little while.”

  “That’s kind of hard to do. I did promise I’d come back and marry her.” He waited for the anger.

  “Yeah, you did promise. And you broke it. She understands. Just give it some time to sink in.” Adrian shifted uncomfortably.

  “Are you all right?” Tucker couldn’t believe how much the man had aged.

  “I’m fine. It’s just frustrating when they can’t figure out what’s wrong with me. I have to go back for tests again.”

  “I’m sorry.” Tucker didn’t know what else to say. Adrian Brown had always been robust, healthy and active. Tucker knew exactly how awful it was to lose your health. “Ginny and I were supposed to talk tonight.”

  “I know. She’s been looking up some scriptures she thought might help you.” Adrian pointed at the grill. “That’s a lot of smoke.”

  Tucker had barely lifted the lid when Ginny came racing up and grabbed the lifter.

  “Come on, guys. Dad, this is Tom, Paul, Nick, Ira, John and Kent. Boys, my dad.” She squinted at the grill. “These burgers are charbroiled.” She laid them on the buns, saving the darkest, most burned one for Tucker. “I assume this is the way you like them, since you let them burn,” she teased, handing it over.

  He took it, loaded on the condiments and bit into it.

  “Of course,” he mumbled, his mouth full. “Kills all the bacteria.”

  “Now why didn’t I think of that.” She picked the black spots off the edges of her burger and flopped it into a bun.

  “You couldn’t.” He grinned at the surprised look on her face. “It’s a guy thing, Gin. Girls don’t get it.”

  Tom and his friends let out huge guffaws, clearly enjoying their repartee. Tucker watched them, a small pain pinching his heart. What did it feel like to be so carefree? How long since he’d laughed for the sheer pleasure of enjoying life?

  Too long. Some of his tenseness ebbed away as Tucker relaxed and ate his burger. Let go of it, he ordered his brain.

  Ginny’s brownies were a hit, as usual. Decadent squares of rich dark chocolate disappeared like grain before locusts until not a smear of icing was left on the plate.

  “If only I’d known,” Tom moaned, clasping his hand to his stomach. “I’d have been here weeks ago.”

  “There are lots of things you don’t know about this place.” Tucker swallowed the last glob of icing. “You have to take more interest in the town, get to know the real Jubilee Junction.”

  Tom nodded. “You think?” he said, but his voice was thoughtful rather than snide.

  The boys stayed almost three hours. Once they’d finished eating, they helped clean up, then played a game of tag football. It wasn’t long before Tom discovered the stand of maple trees near the back of the lot and climbed up the sturdy branches.

  “Hey, you’ve got your own river,” Tom shouted to Ginny from his perch high atop the biggest tree.

  “I’d forgotten that!” Tucker left the deck and strode across the grass until he came to the pebbled shore. His and Ginny’s favorite haunt.

  It looked exactly the same.

  The boys followed one by one, curiosity drawing them. As usual, Tom was in the lead.

  “Look at the fog over that pool. Cool.”

  “No, it’s actually warm,” Tucker explained. “There’s a geothermal spring underneath that heats it up all year.”

  “Even in the winter?” They stared at him, their disbelief evident.

  “Uh-huh. Temperature varies a little, depending on the rainfall, but we’ve sat in there on Christmas eve with snow all around and been warm as toast.” Tucker remembered that last Christmas so vividly.

  “Way cool,” Tom murmured. “Your own private hot tub!”

  Ginny’s shout from the de
ck drew their attention. Curfew. It was time to go. Tucker stood silent as each boy thanked Ginny and her father for the evening.

  “I’m glad you came,” she told them sincerely. “We’ll do it again. Soon.”

  “You mean it?” Tom’s disbelief was evident.

  “Of course.”

  “When?” he challenged.

  “I’m not exactly sure. Dad has to go to the city for some tests, so everything’s a little mixed up right now.” She patted her father on the shoulder. “But we’ll get it straightened out.”

  “I didn’t know you were sick. I’m sorry we bothered you.”

  Tom’s sincere concern touched Tucker. The boy was capable of more than the thug image he cultivated. Too bad he made it so difficult to get past the facade.

  “You didn’t bother me, son. I enjoyed having you and your friends here. Reminded me of when Tucker used to come over.” Adrian grinned. “He always hogged the brownies, too. Even tried to sneak them home.”

  Tom glanced once at his jacket pocket. His face darkened to a vivid beet red.

  “It’s okay, son. I understand. I used to filch them when Ginny’s mom made them years ago.” Adrian smiled at the memory. “I missed them after she died.”

  Tom shuffled from one foot to the other. The rest of the gang had left. He was the last one, and he clearly felt out of place. But it was obvious that he had something to say.

  “I don’t know if you’d want me to come back if you knew about me,” he muttered finally, his eyes on Tucker.

  “Knew what, son?” Adrian Brown stayed exactly where he was, his body relaxed, his smile firmly in place.

  Uh-oh. Tucker’s mind clicked into high gear. Fire, he remembered. Some kid had talked about Tom’s fires. Probation. Prickles of fear zapped along the hair on his arms. Maybe he really had endangered the Browns.

  “I used to light fires.” Tom glared at Tucker, daring him to say something. “I’m not a pyromaniac or anything, but I got into trouble a lot. They sent me to live with my mom in Billings, but I got in trouble again. The Owens were starting this program, and they offered to take kids in trouble, so the judge sent me here. If I mess up again, I have to go to jail.” He lifted his head, his blue eyes hard. “I don’t care.”