The Goodbye Bride

by Denise Hunter

  Shortly past her sixth birthday everything changed. Her mom became awful sick. Much later Lucy learned it was a rare brain tumor that had made her so ill. They spent hours at the hospital where her mom lay as white as the sheets. Lucy watched her chest rise and fall, listening to the beeping and whirring of the machines.

  Until all of it stopped.

  Everything afterward was sad and bewildering. She kept asking Daddy when Mama would come home. Looking back, she realized the pain her questions must’ve caused him. But death was the kind of permanence a young child couldn’t comprehend.

  The house on Oak Street was no longer filled with laughter and music. Daddy wandered from room to room with bloodshot eyes, a cigarette often trembling between his lips. He forgot to turn on lights. He slept in the spare room, the door of her parents’ bedroom remaining shut at all times.

  He often left Lucy with Mrs. Wilmington, their next-door neighbor—an elderly woman with a lot of rules. Lucy cried when he left her there in the mornings. What if he went where Mama went? What if he stayed away too? There weren’t enough starflowers in the world to give her the courage for that.

  When her dad stopped long enough to settle on the couch, Lucy would walk slowly by. But he didn’t snatch her off her feet anymore. He didn’t draw her into hugs or find that ticklish spot at her side.

  The weeks and months after her mama’s death passed in a lonely blur. There was an overwhelming heaviness that Lucy later learned was grief’s calling card. It rolled in like a heavy fog, sinking into everything it touched.

  Then one Friday when Lucy was seven, she got off the bus. A cold rain was drizzling from a cloudy gray sky. She was supposed to stay with Mrs. Wilmington until Daddy got home. But his blue car was in their driveway, so she headed that way instead.

  Happiness swirled inside. Daddy had been coming home late, especially on Friday nights. Sometimes Mrs. Wilmington tucked her into her own bed and stayed until he came home. He was always quiet in the morning, and Lucy knew he wouldn’t be fit for talking until after his second cup of coffee, but by then he had to leave for work.

  But tonight she wouldn’t have to stay with Mrs. Wilmington. Maybe Daddy would help her with her penguin project. Maybe they could go out for ice cream later like they used to.

  She shuffled through the piles of decaying leaves that carpeted their yard. They used to make huge piles by the porch. She’d jump into them until there were chips of leaves stuck so deep in her scalp that Mama would have to help wash her hair.

  She passed the remnants of her mama’s garden. Weeds had choked out most of the flowers, and decaying leaves covered the rest. Lucy tried to picture the garden the way it used to be. Tried to picture Mama as she climbed the porch steps, but all she could remember was soft brown hair and blue eyes. These days her mama seemed like a ghost from her past, and she disappeared more and more every day. Lucy was afraid that someday she wouldn’t remember Mama at all.

  She pushed the thought away before the big, dark fog could swallow her up. Daddy was home, and it was going to be a happy night. The front door was unlocked, and she pushed it open. The house was dark and quiet, the smell of cigarette smoke hanging in the air.

  She slid her backpack to the floor and kicked off her ballerina flats. She heard floorboards creaking overhead, so she dashed up the stairs.

  “Daddy?” she called.

  The door to his bedroom—his new one—was open. He was standing by the bed.

  He turned as she approached. “Lucy . . .” His thick eyebrows pulled close. “What are you doing here? You’re supposed to go on over to Mrs. Wilmington’s.”

  Her face fell at his scolding tone. “But you’re here.”

  Her eyes dropped to the suitcase on the bed. It was filled with clothes. A lot of clothes. Lucy wondered if the lid would even shut. She remembered their trips to the beach, and a wonderful feeling swept over her. Daddy was taking her to the beach! She suddenly couldn’t wait to escape this dark, quiet house.

  “Are we going to the beach?” She bounced up and down on her toes, her body unable to stay still.

  “What? No.” He took his cigarette from the ashtray and put it between his lips, his jaws going hollow as he sucked on it. He blew out, the smoke swirling into the air.

  “Where we going then? Can we go camping?” Delaney, her friend from school, went camping all the time in the summer. Was it too cold to camp?

  Daddy stubbed out the cigarette and closed the suitcase lid. His face wore the same sad frown it had worn for months. His movements were fast and jerky as he worked to close the suitcase. He seemed to have forgotten she was even there.

  A cold chill swept up her spine. Her heart lurched, and her legs suddenly felt like a rag doll’s.

  She crawled onto the bed and got in front of him. “Daddy? Where we going?”

  He struggled with the latch, opened the suitcase, stuffed in the clothes, then shut it again, but it still wouldn’t latch. The bed bounced with his efforts.

  “Daddy?”

  He reached for the cigarette again, but it was nothing but a smoking stub. He patted his pockets, scowling.

  “Daddy?”

  He jerked his face toward her, as if just realizing she was still there. His frown deepened. “I told you to go next door.”

  “But—but aren’t we going on a trip?”

  “Not we, Lucy.” He pushed at the clothes, tucking and shoving, then closed the lid, a faraway look in his eyes. “I have to get away. I need a break.” He pushed the latches, and they closed with a snap of finality.

  Her eyes burned as she watched him heave the suitcase from the bed. She followed him down the steps, her legs working fast to keep up. Mama had gone away, and now Daddy was going too.

  She followed him to the car, where he shoved the suitcase into the trunk. There were other things in there too. Boxes of things. His coffeepot and books and the dishes she used to have tea parties with.

  Her chest was so tight she couldn’t breathe. Her heart felt like it might explode, and a scream clawed for escape.

  Daddy shut the trunk with a loud thunk.

  She grabbed him around his waist, burying her head into his side. “Take me with you, Daddy! Please!”

  He picked her up, and her frantic heart settled as she buried her face into his neck, breathing in his familiar smell. Her arms wrapped around his strong shoulders and held tight. He wouldn’t go without her. Of course he wouldn’t.

  He began walking, but she closed her eyes, telling them to stop leaking. He was taking her with him. Maybe they were moving to the beach, and she wouldn’t have to live in their dark, quiet house anymore. She wouldn’t have to stay with Mrs. Wilmington or fall asleep without Daddy.

  She bounced in his arms as he went up steps. At the knocking sound she opened her eyes.

  The door opened, and Mrs. Wilmington reached for her.

  Daddy’s words rang in her ears. “I have to get away” . . . “I have to get away” . . . “I have to get away.”

  Lucy’s head snapped up. Her grip tightened around her dad’s neck, her heart going on that wild race again.

  Daddy pulled at her arms as he spoke to Mrs. Wilmington. “Here. You have her number.” His voice was like a robot’s.

  She clung tight with her arms and legs. He couldn’t leave her here. They were a team, she and Daddy. He’d said so.

  “Let go, Lucy.”

  “Daddy, no! Take me with you!”

  He pulled until her arms lost their grip. “I can’t, sugar. I just can’t.”

  Mrs. Wilmington pulled her into her arms.

  Lucy fought. She kicked, she pushed. But the door shut, and Daddy was walking away.

  She fought with renewed strength. Sobs welled up in her chest, fighting for release. “Daddy!” she screamed until she was sure he had to hear her.

  Something stirred Zac from his sleep. His eyes opened in the darkness, and it took a moment to orient himself. He was on his office couch. The electricity had gone off.<
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  Lucy. The kiss. He exhaled, palming his aching eyes.

  Sleep had been elusive. The memory of her lips on his had tortured him until after two, and without electricity the upstairs had cooled quickly. It had been after three when he’d finally grabbed his blankets and headed to his office where it was warmer.

  He must’ve fallen asleep, but what had awakened him? The sound came again, a voice. Distress.

  Lucy.

  He jumped from the sofa and moved for the door. He was down the hall and pushing through her door before he could blink. He stopped on the threshold, his heart battering him from the inside out.

  Moonlight spilled through the sheer curtains, revealing the shadowed lump of Lucy’s body in the center of the bed. She twitched and squirmed. The bedsheets rustled, and her ragged breaths punctuated the silence.

  A nightmare. He entered the room, telling his heart to chill. “Lucy.”

  She thrashed, her legs kicking out. “Daddy!”

  His heart squeezed at the torment in her voice. He stepped closer. He didn’t know much about her dad—her mom either, for that matter—only that they’d passed away. Lucy hadn’t talked much about her childhood.

  He eased up to the bed and set a hand on her shoulder. “Lucy.”

  “No, Daddy!”

  “Lucy.”

  She stilled, her shoulder tensing. Then she pulled away from him, and his hand fell.

  “You were having a nightmare.”

  Her breaths came again in quiet rasps. Every cell in his body wanted to reach for her. Wanted to drag her into his arms and tell her it was okay.

  “I’m okay.” Her voice was thick with emotion.

  If he reached out, he knew he’d find her cheeks wet with tears. But she was huddled on the far side of the bed, and after the kiss they’d shared earlier, touching her was the last thing he needed to do.

  He should ask her if she wanted to talk about the nightmare, but she’d already slipped too far under his defenses. It wasn’t good for either of them.

  “Sorry I woke you.” Her voice sounded more controlled this time. She relaxed into the bed. The covers rustled as she pulled them back into place.

  The air was as cool in here as the office. “You warm enough?”

  “Of course. You can go on back to bed now; I’m just fine.”

  He knew the brave face she wore even if he couldn’t see it. It was the one she’d worn every time he’d asked about her childhood. The one she’d worn when they’d wheeled her away for her MRI. When he’d left her at her apartment in Portland. She wasn’t fine. Not even close.

  It took everything in him to ease away from her bed. “All right. Good night then.”

  “Night.”

  He slipped out the door, pulling it almost shut, wondering how long he could keep Lucy Lovett from sinking back into his heart.

  Chapter 21

  Lucy squinted against the morning sun hanging over the harbor. A few lobster boats were moored there, mere silhouettes, their short masts like skinny fingers pointing heavenward. The smell of burning wood hung in the air, combined with the briny scent of the sea. Overhead, a seagull sailed on the wind, releasing a high-pitched, mournful cry.

  Lucy turned down the planked walk leading toward the visitor center. She’d already tried every other place in town, and she’d heard from Eden that Miss Trudy wanted to cut back on her hours at the center. She was set on making this happen.

  She’d returned from her jog to find power restored at the Roadhouse. Unfortunately, her memories of the night before had also been restored. She wished she could forget the way Zac had pushed her away. Wished she could forget the nightmare of her dad’s abandonment. The two events blurred together, blending into one.

  She had to get out from under Zac’s roof. And to do that, she needed to find herself a job.

  The visitor center was a shack just off the boardwalk. Its shingles had been weathered by wind and sand, but a fresh coat of white paint trimmed out the building. The sign over the door read Visitor and Natural History Center, and the one beside it announced the hours.

  The screen door opened with a familiar squawk, and Lucy stepped into the space that had been hers for a year and a half. Miss Trudy was over by the trail map with a couple who looked as if they’d stepped right off the page of an L.L.Bean catalog.

  Lucy wandered over to the brochure rack and began straightening the pamphlets. She spotted a few new ones. Beau’s Christmas tree farm, featuring fall activities; a new tour company offering day-trips on a lobster boat; and a brochure advertising the activities and events on Folly Shoals. She situated that one beside the ferry schedule and moved the dining guide over by the day-trip pamphlet.

  “Get your hands off my brochures, missy.”

  Lucy turned and faced Miss Trudy. “I was just straightening them. There are a few new ones.”

  Miss Trudy pursed her lips. “Well, you have been gone awhile.”

  She wasn’t going to make this easy. “Yes, ma’am.” Her eyes drifted over the room. It was tidy enough. Miss Trudy was sure enough doing a great job with the center. But Lucy had the inside scoop.

  “You needing a bus schedule?” The woman reached past Lucy, pulling a pamphlet and handing it to her. “There’s one leaving Bangor tonight. I’m sure we can get you up there in time.”

  Lucy winced. “I know I left you in a lurch before. I’m awfully sorry.”

  Miss Trudy’s eyes pierced hers. “I’m not the only one you left in a lurch.”

  Her skin tingled at the back of her neck, and her feet itched. No, she wasn’t running. She’d already run from here once, then she’d run from Portland. At some point a body had to stay put. And this was the only place she had friends. Well. People who used to be her friends.

  Lucy put the pamphlet back. “I have a lot to make up for and a lot of people to make amends with. I’m asking for a second chance. I don’t have anywhere else to go.”

  “What about that fiancé back in Portland?”

  “He’s nothing but a stranger to me.”

  Miss Trudy crossed her arms.

  “I came by to see if you’d be willing to hire me again. I hear you’re wanting to cut back your hours, and I’ve got nothing but time on my hands.”

  The woman’s eyes narrowed.

  “I’m already trained, and I’m willing to take whatever hours you can give me.”

  Lucy forced herself to hold still under Miss Trudy’s unnerving scrutiny. Maybe she’d made a mistake or two, let a few people down. But could she really be held accountable for something she didn’t even remember doing?

  “Give me one good reason why I should even think about hiring you again.”

  Lucy drew a deep breath, the one reason already on her tongue. “Because I can’t get out from under Zac’s roof until I have a job. I’ve already tried everywhere else—and I do mean everywhere.”

  Miss Trudy scowled, her nostrils flaring. “And you want to be rid of him again, is that it?”

  Lucy remembered the kiss last night. She could still feel his soft lips on hers. Still taste the minty freshness of him on her tongue. Still feel the solid strength of his chest against her.

  “No, ma’am,” she said on a soft breath, blinking against the burn behind her eyes. “I just—I just think it might be best. For both of us.”

  Miss Trudy studied her long and hard. “I heard about that little show you put on at Frumpy Joe’s. You trying to win everyone’s sympathy?”

  “No, ma’am.”

  “He should’ve left you in Portland.”

  Shame swelled inside, and Lucy withered as heat rose into her cheeks. She could pretend she wasn’t responsible for her actions all she wanted. But it had happened, and she’d hurt Zac. She deserved to be left behind.

  “Yes, ma’am.” She forced herself to hold Miss Trudy’s direct gaze.

  A long moment later something shifted in the woman’s brittle blue eyes. She pursed her lips. “Be here at ten in the morning, not a mi
nute later. You’ll work the weekdays, and I’ll take the weekends.”

  A breath escaped her lungs as a smile forced its way onto her lips. “I’ll be here.” She backed toward the door before Miss Trudy had a change of heart.

  “I’ll leave an extra key under the flowerpot. Don’t lose it.”

  Lucy pushed open the screen door. “I won’t. Thank you!”

  “And you leave my brochures where I put them,” Miss Trudy called as the screen door slapped against the frame behind Lucy.

  “Yes, ma’am,” Lucy returned, unable to quell the smile on her face as her pace quickened on the walkway.

  Lucy Lovett was officially employed. Next up on her agenda: apartment hunting.

  Chapter 22

  The following Sunday morning Eden called out to Lucy on the sidewalk outside the chapel. Lucy turned and waited, drawing her sweater tighter. She’d never gotten used to Maine’s morning chill.

  Once she’d caught up with Lucy, Eden scooted her son off to class. “Have you heard about the article?” Eden asked.

  “What article?”

  “Your story was on the USA Today blog this morning. Paige saw it and called.”

  Lucy’s pulse jumped even as dread tightened her chest. “What did it say?”

  Eden dug her phone out of her purse. “I didn’t really give it a thorough read, but the gist is that you’re a runaway bride with amnesia and that you went missing—you didn’t tell me you were Audrey Lovett’s great-niece.”

  “It didn’t seem important,” Lucy said. “I can’t believe it’s in the national news.”

  “It’s only one website,” Eden said. “It probably didn’t even make the actual paper.”

  “I surely hope not.” Lucy rubbed her temple. She didn’t like the idea of her private life displayed for all the world to see, especially when she was feeling so lost.

  Eden had pulled up the article on her phone, and she held it out to Lucy. It was short and spelled out the basic facts.

  “Leastwise they don’t know where to find me.” Lucy handed the phone back when she finished the article.