“Oh, my God, a secret baby.” Fiona fanned herself. “I love secret baby stories.”
“I didn’t mean to keep her secret, he just went off the grid. I never had a way to contact him, so eventually, I stopped trying. Just went on living and making my own family.”
“Strong woman.” She held out a fist for a bump. “I’m Fiona, by the way.”
“Andy.”
“So, secret baby. Carry on.”
“He came back to town earlier this year, not realizing I had the baby. He was angry with me and blamed me for our split. It was a misunderstanding and we fell back in love.”
“Just that easy, huh?”
“Not even close,” Andy admitted. “But we have a long history and it was hard to forget. I just had to forgive his mistakes, and he had to forgive me for not working harder to find him.”
“I met my last boyfriend at a motorcycle rally. He turned out to be a drug runner, trying to get into the human trafficking trade, and wanted me to sleep with his friends for money.”
Andy’s eyes widened.
“Yeah, I’d take a secret baby any day of the week.”
“I’m fond of her, so I would too.”
“Your sisters are headed this way. One looks like she has something major up her sleeve.”
“That would be Beth, I imagine.”
“Want me to pull the fire alarm?” Fiona whispered with a smile.
“I’ll give you a signal if I get desperate.”
“Deal.”
“Why are you hiding over here?” Beth asked, her arm draping sloppily over Andy’s. “I knew you wouldn’t be totally into the stripper, but I didn’t know you’d disappear.”
“I don’t mind.” Andy smiled. “You guys have fun.”
“It’s supposed to be your night,” Alex argued.
Andy gestured to the Bride sash. “Looks like you’ve got it covered. I’m just hanging here with Fiona.”
Her sisters looked to the bartender.
“She was telling me the secret baby story,” Fiona told them.
Andy hooked a thumb at Beth. “She got love at first sight.”
Beth’s face pinched. “I did not.”
“Did too,” Alex sang. “Just too scared to admit it.”
Fiona looked between them all. “Secret baby. Love at first sight.” Her eyes shot to Alex. “How about you?”
“I got desperately single, addicted to carbs, and not much else.”
“Oh girl,” Fiona commiserated. “Let me tell you about my last boyfriend.”
It was more subdued than Owen had thought it would be. He’d been expecting cheap booze and naked women, but what he got was a tasteful hangout with his friends. Spencer was serving drinks from a makeshift bar in Mike’s apartment. The last Super Bowl game, the one where Tom Brady made the most amazing comeback in sport’s history, played in the background.
It was almost sedate.
And suspicious as hell.
He thought of Andy, fending off strippers and her drunken sisters, and felt a wave of relief that he wasn’t experiencing the same type of tradition.
He half listened as the men next to him talked about the game, but ultimately got up to talk to Spencer.
They’d had a good few months, he and Spencer. Andy and Jenna accepting him had made their friendship easier to navigate. While they weren’t friends per se, they were at least on the same page.
Owen promised to never hurt Andy again and treat Jenna like a princess, and Spencer let him live.
He’d take it because that was already his goal, but a little reaffirmation never hurt.
He sidled up to the bar and waited while Spencer poured a drink.
“Bored yet?” his future brother-in-law asked. The man was enormous, nearing six-and-a-half feet tall, well over Owen’s six-two, but he had a quick easy smile that softened him some.
Owen shrugged. “Not bored, no. Just wondering what Andy’s doing.”
“Last I heard, she was getting some dude’s junk rubbed in her face.”
“That was Alex,” he corrected. Andy had sent him a picture.
The smile that spread on Spencer’s face was sly. “Just seeing if you were paying attention.”
“I am,” he assured him. “What’s the plan for the rest of the night? Are we really watching football all night?”
“That was the plan,” Spencer said. “If I remember correctly, someone said something about absolutely no women and no drunken tomfoolery.”
“I did not say that.”
“Shenanigans then,” Spencer corrected. “So here we all are, minding our p’s and q’s, on our best behavior, so you can get married tomorrow without being hungover.”
It was what he’d asked for. He leaned in and whispered, “It’s a little boring.”
Spencer rolled his eyes. “You think? Too late to call in the loose women,” he mused. “But not too late for the hard stuff. We could at least tie one on and reminisce. It has to be better than this snooze-fest.”
“I didn’t know that no one knew how to have fun without booze and women,” Owen argued.
“Well, without those two things we usually resort to sports,” he pointed at the television. “Or golf.”
Owen’s eyes cut to Spencer’s. “We could golf.”
“It’s ten o’clock at night. Where are we going to golf now?”
“The country club.” A smile stretched across his face.
“What you’re saying is you want us all to sneak over to the club, after hours, and play a round of golf. In the dark.” Before he could answer, Spencer continued. “Yeah, that’s the best thing I’ve heard all night. Let’s do it.”
“Seriously?” Owen asked.
“Let’s run to the bar and get some refreshments for our excursion.” Spencer came out from behind the bar. “Owen and I have to run an errand. We’ll be right back.”
No one made any argument and the two men headed out the door. In Spencer’s truck, they headed toward Walker’s, the family bar in the center of town.
“You know,” Owen began sedately.
“Don’t get mushy on me now,” Spencer said, a whine in his voice. “Just when we’re getting along, you want to hug it out or something. I’m good. You’re good. We’re good.”
“I appreciate that,” Owen said. “What I was going to say was that I think I might have some glow-in-the-dark golf balls at the house.”
Spencer let out a laugh. “My bad.”
He backed the truck up to the rear entrance of the bar. Closed for the night, the building was eerily quiet and darker than Owen had ever seen it.
Spencer used a key to open the locked door and they both slipped in. He’d never been in the back and he hoped he’d never do it again. The hallway was dark and narrow, with a chute that led them straight down a flight of stairs.
“You’re not bringing me here to kill me or anything, right?” Owen joked.
“Like I’d kill you in my own bar. What am I, an idiot? If I was going to kill you, I’d take you out to one of the quarries, weigh you down, and throw you in.”
Owen stopped, mid-step. “Thought about it much?”
“Killing you? Not recently. This is just the way to the downstairs storage room. It’s just creepy as shit, which is why none of the girls ever come down this way.”
“I don’t blame them,” Owen said under his breath, picking his way down a creaky, wooden flight of stairs.
“Hang on,” Spencer muttered to himself, opening a door and disappearing inside.
Curious, Owen stepped in too, his foot catching on a floorboard or something. When he corrected himself, he looked up to see Spencer coming at him, arms extended. Caught off guard, Owen put his arms up in a defensive block, unsure where the aggression came from.
Spencer had just told him they were fine. Why was he attacking now?
He heard a thump behind him.
“What the fuck? I told you to wait!” Owen rounded to find Spencer glaring at him. “I told you to fucking wai
t.”
“You didn’t tell me to wait. You said hang on. I didn’t think you were talking to me. I thought you were just saying it.”
“That door doesn’t open from the inside.” Spencer pointed to the closed door.
“What?” Owen rushed to the door, inspecting it. Sure enough, there was no handle.
“It’s an old hooch cellar. The door sticks and only opens from the outside. Hence, why we keep it propped open with that door stopper.”
Owen looked at the little wooden block at his feet. That must have been what he tripped on.
“I know you aren’t telling me we’re locked in here,” he reasoned. “I know that can’t be happening.”
“Oh, it’s happening,” Spencer assured him. “We’re locked in here and I didn’t even bring my cell.”
“I did.” He took it out of his pocket, his hopes dying when it read NO SERVICE across the top. “No. No, no, no.”
“Holy shit,” Spencer muttered, pushing on the door. “I know this fucker won’t open. We used to play in here when we were kids. There’s no way out unless someone lets us out.”
“And who’s going to let us out? No one even knows where we are?” Owen argued, panic rising. “I’m supposed to marry your sister tomorrow and I’m stuck in here with you.”
“Yeah. That could be a problem.”
3
Are you sure you can’t postpone?” Beth moaned. “Just like, a day?”
“You didn’t even drink last night,” Andy reminded Beth, annoyed with her sisters for dragging their feet in getting out of bed. Alex was more hung-over than Andy had ever seen her and they were both acting ridiculous. “And get it together. I don’t want to go Bridezilla on you, but neither of you get to be a hot mess on my wedding day.”
“Shhh,” Alex whined. “Do the Bridezilla thing quietly, at least.”
“Take an Advil and step it up.” Andy slapped her sister’s foot with a newspaper. “Thank God you’re done making the cake or I’d really be losing it.”
The two women were sleeping on the pullout couch in her guest room. She and Owen had bought the house she’d grown up in and it was more than she’d ever hoped for. After struggling to make ends meet for a long time, finally feeling like she could go back home was almost magical.
Except for the drunken stooge and overtired baby sleeping it off.
Andy, knowing her sisters well, slipped her phone out of her pocket and snapped a picture of them. Each of them looked a wreck, Beth’s hair every which way and Alex’s makeup looking like the bride of Frankenstein.
“What was that?” Beth asked, hearing the shutter click.
“Photographic evidence for my defense when I murder you for ruining my wedding day,” she told her.
“Whoa, Mom,” Jenna said with a laugh as she came around the corner. Her eyes widened. “Whoa, Auntie Alex.”
Alex sat up. “What?”
“Your face,” Jenna pointed.
Andy covered her mouth to smother her laugh. Beth didn’t bother and laughed out loud.
“Your hair doesn’t look much better.” Alex sneered, already taking her own phone out to check her makeup. “Yikes,” she muttered. “I better get going if this is what I’m starting off with.”
“Hair and makeup at ten,” Andy told them. “You’ve got two hours to sober up and get it together.”
Beth covered herself back up and laid down. “I clean up good. I need the rest.”
“You better hope so,” Jenna told her. “I already heard from Logan and I bet he looks hot. He always looks hot.”
“Jenna!” Andy half laughed, half scolded.
“What? He’s hot!” Jenna argued, her newly put on braces gleaming as she smiled.
“Wait, you already heard from him?” Beth was sitting fully upright and at attention. “He’s in town?”
Jenna waggled her cell phone. “Got in last night.”
“Crap.” Beth sighed as she whipped the covers off and then sprinted down the hall. “I call first shower.”
“No!” Alex yelled, hurrying after her with a toiletries bag. “I was getting my things! That’s no fair.”
They were still arguing when Beth slammed the door in Alex’s face.
Andy looked at her daughter. “Sisters,” she said with a shrug.
* * *
“Limo’s here!” Beth’s voice hollered as her heels clicked down the hall. “You guys ready?”
“Are we ready?” Alex scoffed, adjusting Andy’s headpiece and veil. She looked her sister in the eye and winked. “What do you think, Andy. Are you ready?”
Her sisters stood before her, her daughter beside her. She’d never been more ready for anything. For the first time in a long time, she felt completely confident. Her sisters were with her. Her daughter was at her side. Her father and Spencer would be meeting them at the church, and best of all, Owen would be there, ready to join himself with her for life.
“More than ready,” she told them all, smiling. “If I could start early, I would.”
“Might screw things up, what with all the guests coming, but sure, we can make that happen,” Beth told her, laughing.
“Listen,” Alex said, reaching out and grabbing Andy’s hand and then Jenna’s. Jenna then reached out and grabbed Beth’s hand, who grabbed Andy’s free hand until they stood in a circle. “No matter where we go or what happens, we’ll always be Walker women. No matter how many fights we get into”—she looked at Beth—“or how much time passes between seeing each other.”
“No matter who we marry or where we move, we’ll always be Walker women,” Beth agreed.
“No matter how hard we push back against each other,” Andy added, eyebrows raised.
“No matter how young?” Jenna asked quietly.
“No matter how young.” Andy acknowledged her daughter’s words with a confident nod. “You can take a turn.”
“No matter how stubborn we are,” Jenna said with a smile. “No matter how many times we say we don’t need help but really do.”
“Andy.” Beth fake-coughed.
“No matter how stubborn I am,” Andy agreed again. “I know, I can always count on my Walker women.”
Alex broke contact and wiped a tear. “Mom would have loved this,” she said. “Not just you, marrying Owen, but us all being together.”
“I wish she was here,” Jenna said. “I wish I remembered her more.”
“Lex is right,” Beth whispered. “She would have loved this. She would have been organizing everything down to the last detail. She’d have Spencer and Dad running all over creation at her beck and call, getting things ready. She’d have never let us go out last night,” she said with a watery laugh.
“She’d have never let you run off like you did,” Alex said quietly.
Beth shrugged and the gesture was far more sad than indifferent. “But she isn’t here, is she? We do the best we can with what we’ve got.”
Andy squeezed Beth’s hand and pulled her in for a hug.
“You’ve got far more than you think you do, Bethy. You’ve got us. And Walker women? We don’t quit so easily.”
“I hate to be the disappointment again,” Beth said as she pulled back. “But, this one does.”
“The sun is rising on my wedding day and I’m stuck in an underground bunker with you.” Owen glared at Spencer.
“I’m not the one that shut the damn door,” Spencer argued. “I told you to wait!”
“You told me to hang on,” Owen said. “There’s a difference.”
Spencer shook his head. “Someone will find us and we’ll all carry on like this never happened.”
“Except when I’m supposed to be marrying your sister in”—he consulted his watch—“an hour.” His face paled and fell. “Ah, shit.”
“It’s all going to be fine,” Spencer insisted, checking the door for the hundredth time.
“She’s going to think I left again,” Owen worried. “All she’s going to see is that I’m not showing up, a
nd she’s going to think I ran out on her again.”
“Well, you didn’t. When she sees that you didn’t, she’ll be fine.”
Owen shook his head. “You don’t get it. She’ll think I did and that’s enough. I don’t ever want her to think that and of course, she will. What else would she think when I don’t show up to our fucking wedding? Again.” He shot up and paced the dirt ground, head in his hands. “She’ll be so upset. And Jenna? What will she think?”
“Owen, you need to get a hold of yourself. I thought you were in the navy. Aren’t you supposed to know how to get out of situations like this?”
“I worked in navigation. I’m a map specialist not a fucking SEAL.”
Spencer shrugged. “It was worth a try. Still no service?”
Owen checked his phone again. “Nothing. It’s like a dungeon in here.”
“That’s what we used to play when we were kids and Dad was working upstairs. We always made Beth be the prisoner and Alex and I were pirates.”
“And what role did Andy play in this sibling torture?”
Spencer chuckled, stretching his legs and crossing them at the ankles. “She was always the lookout, making sure we weren’t doing anything too bad when Mom or Dad came to get us, and making sure Beth was okay. Alex could get a little overzealous sometimes.”
“Siblings are weird,” Owen commented.
“You guys planning on giving Jenna any?”
They’d talked about it some, he and Andy. Were they too old? Would Jenna miss out? Did they want to have a baby so he could experience the entire thing and if they did that, was that a good enough reason to have a baby? Of course, they loved each other and would be happy to have a child together, but was that what they wanted?
They weren’t sure just yet.
Owen shrugged. “It’ll be tough to do that if I die in here with you.”
Spencer barked out a laugh. “We’re not going to die in here. Someone will figure out where we are and come rescue you, I promise.”
“Before or after I’m supposed to get married in”—he checked his watch again—“fifty-two minutes?”
* * *
Something wasn’t right?
Forgiving History Page 2