by Donna Alward
When she didn’t say anything, he glanced over. Her complexion had gone ghostly pale, making her pink glossy lips stand out. “You feeling okay?”
“No.” Her hand pressed to her stomach. “Pull over. Now.”
He threw on his right-turn signal and pulled to a stop in a barren stretch of desert. Meg barreled out of the vehicle, leaving the door ajar. She rushed over to a large rock and hunched over. So this was what she’d been doing when she ran out of the church. Must be a huge case of nerves.
He grabbed some napkins from his glove compartment and a bottle of unopened water. It was tepid, but it’d be better than nothing. He exited the truck and followed her. He wasn’t good with women—especially not ones who were upset and sick.
“Um...I can hold this for you.” He reached for the lengthy veil.
He didn’t know if he should try talking to her to calm her down or attempt to rub her back. He didn’t want to make things worse. Unsure what to do, he stood there quietly until her stomach settled. Then he handed over the meager supplies.
“You okay now?” he asked, just before his cell phone buzzed.
His grandmother. How could he have forgotten about her? This bride had a way of messing with his mind to the point of forgetting his priorities.
He flipped open his phone, but before he could utter a word Gram said, “Where are you? Everyone’s leaving.”
“I went for a little ride. I’ll be there in a few minutes.”
“Hurry. You won’t believe what happened. I’ll tell you when you get here.”
He hated the thought of going back and facing those reporters. Hopefully there’d be too much confusion with the missing bride and the exiting guests that they wouldn’t remember he’d been the only one around when Meg had disappeared.
He cast a concerned look at his pale stowaway. “We have to go back.”
Fear flashed in her eyes and she started shaking her head. “No. I can’t. I won’t.”
“Why? Because you changed your mind about the wedding? I’m sure people will understand.”
She shook her head. “No, they won’t.”
He didn’t have time to make her see reason. “I have to go back to the church. My grandmother is waiting. I can’t abandon her.”
Meg’s brow creased as she worried her bottom lip. “Then I’ll wait here.”
“What?” She couldn’t be thinking clearly. “I can’t leave you here. You’re not well.”
“I won’t go back there. I can’t face all of those people...especially my mother. And when the press spots us together they’ll have a field day.”
“You can hide on the floor again.”
She shook her head. “We were lucky to get away with that once. With all of the guests leaving, the chances of me staying hidden are slim to none.”
She had a good point, but it still didn’t sit right with him. “Leaving you here in the middle of nowhere, in this heat, isn’t a good idea.”
“This isn’t the middle of nowhere. I’m within walking distance of town. I’ll be fine. Just go. Your grandmother is waiting. There’s just one thing.”
“What’s that?”
“Leave me your cell phone.”
He supposed it was the best solution, but he didn’t like it. Not one bit. But the chance of discovery was too great. Not seeing any other alternative, he pulled the phone from his belt and handed it over.
“You’re sure about this?” he asked, hoping she’d change her mind.
She nodded.
“Then scoot around to the other side of that rock. No one will see you there—unless that veil thing starts flapping in the wind like a big flag.”
“It won’t.” She wound the lengthy material around her arm. A look of concern filled her eyes. “You will come back, won’t you?”
He didn’t want to. He didn’t want anything to do with this mess. All he wanted was to go home and get on with his life. But he couldn’t leave her sick and stranded.
“I’ll be back as fast as I can.”
* * *
Meghan Finnegan watched as the tailgate of the cowboy’s pickup faded into the distance. The events of the day rushed up and stampeded her, knocking the air from her lungs. How could Harold have waited until she’d walked up the aisle to tell her he’d suddenly changed his mind?
He didn’t want her.
And he wanted her to get rid of their unborn baby—a baby they’d agreed to keep secret until after the ceremony. Meghan wrapped her arms around her midsection. She loved her baby and she’d do whatever was necessary to care for it.
She sagged against the rock before her knees gave out. Sure, she knew Harold hadn’t wanted children—he’d made that clear from the start. And with her rising television career she’d accepted that children wouldn’t fit into her hectic lifestyle. But this was different—it had been an accident. When she’d told Harold about the pregnancy a few weeks ago he’d been stunned at first but then he’d seemed to accept it. What in the world had changed his mind?
The sound of an approaching vehicle—perhaps departing wedding guests—sent her scurrying behind the outcrop of large rocks. She wasn’t ready to face the inquiring questions, the pitying stares or the speculative guesses. At twenty-eight, she’d prided herself on having her life all planned out. Now she was pregnant and she didn’t have a clue what her next move should be.
She sank down on a small rock and yanked out scads of hairpins in order to release the veil. At last free of the yards of tulle, she ran her fingers through her hair, letting it flow over her shoulders.
She glanced down at the black phone in her lap. She should probably call her family, so they didn’t worry, but there was no way she was going to deal with her mother, who would demand answers. After all, her mother had been instrumental in planning this whole affair—from setting up her initial date with the boy-next-door who’d grown up to make a fortune in the computer software business to making the wedding plans. In fact the preparations were what had finally pulled her mother out of her depression after cancer had robbed them of Meghan’s father less than a year ago.
Not that all of the blame could be laid at her mother’s feet. Meghan had been willing to go along with the plans—anxious to put her father’s mind at ease about her future before he passed on. And, eager at last to gain her mother’s hard-won approval, she’d convinced herself Harold was the man for her.
Then, as the “big day” approached the doubts had started to settle in. At first she’d thought they were just the usual bridal jitters. But Harold had started to change—to be less charming and thoughtful. It had been as though she was really seeing him for the first time. But her options had vanished as soon as the pregnancy strip displayed two little pink lines.
Meghan’s hand moved to her barely-there baby bump. “It’s okay, little one. Mommy will fix things. I just need some time to think.”
First she had to call her family. She carefully considered whom to contact. Her middle sister Ella? Or her little sis Katie? At the moment they weren’t all that close. Since their father’s death the family had splintered. She’d hoped the wedding would bring them all together again, but nothing she’d tried had worked.
Never having been very close with her youngest sister, she dialed Ella’s number. The cell phone rang for a long time. Meghan had blocked Cash’s number and now she worried that her sister might think it was a prank call or, worse, a telemarketer and not answer. Maybe that was for the best. She could leave a message and have no questions to field.
“Hello?” chimed Ella’s hesitant voice.
“Ella, it’s me. Meghan.”
“Meghan—”
“Shh...don’t let anyone know you’re talking to me. I’m not ready to deal with Mother.”
“Wait a sec.” The buzz of people talking in the
background grew faint, followed by the thud of a door closing. “Okay. I’m alone. What happened? Why’d you run off? Where—?”
“Slow down.”
Her first instinct was to tell Ella she was stranded on the side of the road. In the past they’d shared all sorts of girly secrets—right up until Ella’s engagement had ended abruptly seven months ago. Her sister hadn’t been the same since then. Now, it wouldn’t be right to burden her sister with her problems—not when Ella still had her own to figure out.
Meghan heard herself saying, “Don’t worry. I’m fine. I’m with a friend.”
“But why did you run out on the wedding? I thought you wanted to marry Harold? He acted so broken up and shocked when you took off.”
“What?” Her mouth gaped as her fingers clenched the phone tighter to her ear.
“Harold barely held it together when he told the family that he didn’t have a clue why you ran out on him.”
“He knew...”
That low-down, sniveling, two-faced creep. Her blood boiled in her veins. How could he turn the tables on her when he was the one who’d done the jilting?
He was worried about his image. It always came back to what would look best for him and his company. Why should he take any of the blame for the ruined wedding when she wasn’t there to defend herself?
“Meghan, what did he know? Are you still there?”
“He lied,” she said, trying to remain calm so she didn’t say something she’d regret later. But she couldn’t let her sister believe Harold’s lies. “He knew exactly why I left.”
“It’s okay,” Ella said as sympathy oozed in her voice. “I understand you got cold feet. Remember I was there not that long ago—”
“I didn’t get cold feet. There are things you don’t know.”
“Then tell me.”
“I can’t yet. This is different from when you called off your engagement. And it seems to me you’ve been spending all of your time hiding in your bakery.”
“This isn’t about me.” Ella sighed. “Harold hinted that the stress of planning such a large wedding might have driven you over the edge.”
“But that’s not what happened.” Why hadn’t she seen this side of Harold a long time ago? Had it been there all along? She’d thought he was honorable and with time he would accept the baby.
“It doesn’t matter. Just come home. The whole family is worried. Mother is beside herself. She says she’ll never be able to step outside again because she’s too embarrassed.”
“And what do you expect me to do?” she asked, tired of being the oldest and the one expected to deal with their mother. “Nothing I say will make her less embarrassed.”
In fact it’d only make it that much worse when her strait-laced mother, a pillar of the community, found out her unwed daughter was pregnant by the boy-next-door—the same guy who’d dumped her and their baby at the altar.
“But, Meghan, you have to—”
“No, I don’t. Not this time. You and Katie are going to have to deal with her. I need some space to figure things out. Until I do, I won’t be of any help to anyone.”
Ella huffed. “So when are you coming home?”
She wanted to go to her apartment and hide away, but she wouldn’t have any peace there. And there was no way she was going to her mother’s house.
“I don’t know. I have two weeks planned for the honeymoon so don’t expect to see me before then. I’m sorry, Ella. I’ve got to go.”
There was nothing left to say—or more like nothing she was willing to say at this point. She knew Ella was worried and frustrated, but her sister was smart and had a good head on her shoulders. She’d figure out how to manage their mother.
As Meghan disconnected the call her concern over her family was replaced by nagging doubts about the cowboy returning for her. She glanced down at the new-looking phone with a photo of a horse on the display. Surely he wouldn’t toss aside his phone with his photos and numbers inside?
He’d be back...
But then again she’d put her faith in Harold and look where that had gotten her. Pregnant and alone. Her hand moved to spread across her abdomen. She’d barely come to terms with the fact there was a baby growing inside her, relying on her. And she’d already made such a blunder of things.
CHAPTER TWO
CASH ARRIVED AT the church in time to witness the groom taking his moment in the spotlight, blaming everything on Meg in order to gain the public’s sympathy.
The nerve of the man amazed Cash. Meg was distraught to the point of being physically ill, and here was Harold posing for pictures. His bride might have walked out on him, but Harold sure didn’t look like the injured party. A niggling feeling told him there was more to this story than the bride getting cold feet.
Ten minutes passed before he pried Gram away from consoling the groom’s family and ushered her to his pickup. At last they hit the road. Gram insisted on regaling him with the tale of how the bride ran out of the church without explanation and all the wild speculations. Cash let her talk. All too soon she would learn the facts for herself.
When he reached the two-lane highway he had only one mission—to tramp the accelerator and get back to the sickly bride. By now she must think he’d forgotten her.
Nothing could be further from the truth.
“Cash, slow down,” Gram protested. “I don’t know what you’re in such an all-fired-up rush for. There’s nothing at the Tumbling Weed that can’t wait.”
“It’s not the ranch I’m worried about.”
He could feel his grandmother’s pointed gaze. “You aren’t in some kind of trouble again, are you?”
He sighed, hating how his past clung to him tighter than wet denim. “Not like you’re thinking.”
He glanced down at the speedometer, finding he was well beyond the limit. He eased his boot up on the accelerator. As his speed decreased his anxiety rose. It was bad enough having to leave Meg alone, but when she didn’t feel well it had to be awful for her.
At last he flipped on his turn signal and pulled off the road.
“What are we stopping for? Is there something wrong with the truck? I told you we should have gassed up before leaving town.”
“The truck’s fine.”
“Then why are we stopping in the middle of nowhere? Cash, have you lost your mind?”
“Wait here.” He jumped out of the truck and rushed over to the rock.
Meg wasn’t there. His chest clenched. What had happened to her? He hadn’t seen any sign of her walking back to town. Had someone picked her up? The thought made him uneasy.
“Meg!” He turned in a circle. “Meg, where are you?” At last he spotted her, on the other side of the road. She gathered up her dirty dress and rushed across the road. “What in the world were you doing?”
“I thought if any passing vehicles had taken notice of you dropping a bride off on the side of the road, it might be wiser if I moved to another location.”
It seemed as though her nerves had settled and left her making reasonable decisions. “Good thinking. Sorry it took me a bit to get back here. Picking up my grandmother took me longer than I anticipated—”
“Cash, who are you talking to?” Gram hollered from inside the truck.
“Don’t worry,” he said, “that’s my grandmother. Your number-one fan.”
“Really? She watches my show?”
“Don’t sound so surprised. From what Gram says, you’ve gained quite a loyal following.”
“I suppose I have. That’s why the network’s considering taking the show national.”
So she was a rising television star. Maybe Harold hadn’t been up for sharing the spotlight? Cash liked the idea of Meg being more successful and popular than a man who played up the part of an injured party t
o gain public sympathy.
“Cash, do you hear me?” Gram yelled, her voice growing irritated.
“We’d better not keep her waiting,” he said. “If she gets it in her mind to climb out of that truck without assistance I’m afraid she’ll get hurt.”
Meg walked beside him. “Your truck could use a stepladder to get into.”
“When I bought it my intent was to haul a horse trailer, not to have beautiful women using it as a taxi service.”
He noticed how splotches of pink bloomed in her cheeks. He found he enjoyed making her blush. Obviously Harold, the stuffed shirt, hadn’t bothered to lather her with compliments. No wonder she’d left him.
“Before I forget, here’s your phone.” She placed it in his outstretched hand. “I hope you don’t mind but I called my family.”
“No problem.” He knew if she were his sister or daughter he’d be worried. Turning his attention to his grandmother, he said, “Meg, this is my grandmother—Martha Sullivan. Gram, this is—”
“The Jiffy Cook,” Gram interjected. Her thin lips pursed together. Behind her wire-rimmed glasses her gaze darted between him and Meg. “You stole the bride. Cash, how could you?”
His own grandmother believed he was the reason the bride had run away from the church. The fact it had even crossed her mind hurt. He’d have thought Gram of all people would think better of him and not believe all those scandalous stories in the press.
Before he could refute the accusation Meg spoke up. “Your grandson has been a total gentleman. When he saw me run out of the church with the press on my trail he helped me get away without any incidents. I’m sorry if it inconvenienced you, Mrs. Sullivan.”
Gram waved away her concern. “It’s you I’m concerned about. Has this thing with my grandson been going on for long?”
Any color in Meg’s cheeks leached away, leaving her pasty white beneath the light splattering of freckles across the bridge of her nose. “I...ah...we aren’t—”
“Gram, we aren’t together. In fact until she ran out of the church I’d never seen Meg before. She needed a lift and I was there. End of story. No one else knows where she is.”