The Ghost Groom

by Jennifer Youngblood

  “My mother died when I was born, and I was raised by my father who had no idea how to take care of a daughter, other than to send me off to a boarding school.” She laughed regretfully. “As you can imagine, I was spoiled and impetuous. My father tried to groom me to take over his inheritance, but I was determined to live my life on my own terms, by my own rules. When I was in my early twenties, I had an affair with a married man and got pregnant with you.”

  Rennen let out a harsh laugh. “So I was an embarrassment that you wanted to get rid of? Is that why you abandoned me?”

  “No, you were never an embarrassment to me.” Tears gathered in her eyes. “I loved you with all my heart.” Her voice caught as she touched her neck and cleared her throat. She gave him a strained smile. “You were a blessing straight from heaven.”

  Confusion swirled in Rennen. “Then why?” The words got lodged in his throat as he tried again. “Why did you abandon me?”

  Delphine looked him in the eye. “I didn’t abandon you.”

  Rennen’s heart skipped a beat. “What? I don’t understand.”

  She chuckled, remembering. “When I had you, I knew I had to change. I had to become better … become the mother you deserved.” She lifted her chin. “So I did. I put aside my reckless ways.” She paused, pain coloring her features. “I remember the day like it was yesterday.” Her voice grew strangled. “October 28, 1992, a beautiful, crisp, fall day. You were eighteen months old. I took you to Central Park. You were playing on the playground, and I was watching you from a nearby bench. It was crowded with other children and families.” Her voice took on an odd note. “I was distracted. I had just learned a few hours earlier that I had stage-three breast cancer.” Her lower lip trembled. “I took my eyes off you for one minute, and you were gone. Just like that.” Tears rolled down Delphine’s cheeks. She lifted her glasses and wiped at them. Lainey handed her a tissue.

  Rennen grunted in surprise. A buzz ran through his head as he knotted his fists. “You’re telling me I was kidnapped?”

  “Yes. I searched the park from top to bottom, going out of my mind. The police were called, people at the park questioned. But no one saw anything suspicious.” Her voice broke. “I hold myself responsible. I should’ve never taken you to the park, not in that frame of mind.”

  Rennen tried to sift through what he was hearing. “But money was no object for you. How could you not find me?”

  “Things were different in 1992. The Internet wasn’t mainstream. Legal agencies didn’t report to each other the way they do now. No Amber Alerts.” Her voice sounded old and haggard. “When the police didn’t turn up any leads, I hired a team of investigators.” She squared her jaw. “I was determined to do everything in my power to find you.”

  He’d not been abandoned, but kidnapped? He looked across the table at Delphine. He’d had a mother who loved him, had mourned his absence. All his life he’d gotten it totally wrong, been seeing the world through a defective pair of lenses. A gush of emotion rose in his throat, sending tears to his eyes. The foundation of everything he’d ever believed was crumbling before his very eyes, and he wasn’t sure what to feel. Anger? Sorrow? It was all mixed in a bundle of fire that felt like lead in the center of his chest. “How did I end up in Texas?”

  Delphine shrugged. “I don’t know.” Her face hardened. “I assume someone kidnapped you with the intent to sell you. But who knows?”

  A furrow appeared between Rennen’s brows. “If news of my kidnapping was so far spread, you’d think someone would’ve recognized me.”

  Monroe tilted his head, looking thoughtful. “Not necessarily. You said the first memory you have is of being in a group home, right?”

  Rennen nodded.

  “And before that, you were in another foster home. But were taken away because it was suspected that you were being abused.”

  “That’s right.” Rennen wasn’t making the connection.

  Monroe looked at him. “How long were you in that first foster situation?”

  “About a year, from what I was told. Although I don’t have any memory of it.”

  “So your first real memory was when you were what? Six or seven?”

  Rennen thought back. “Yes.”

  “You were kidnapped when you were eighteen months old,” Monroe continued, “which leaves a gap of roughly three and a half years. Someone could’ve kept you hidden for that amount of time and then dumped you at the bus station.”

  “Yeah, I guess anything’s possible.” Rennen felt the all-too-familiar frustration bubble inside him. It was so dang infuriating not to have any knowledge of what happened to him.

  Anger flashed in Delphine’s eyes. “I have another theory.”

  All eyes turned to her.

  “I was fighting for my life, going through chemotherapy and radiation—so weak I could barely lift my head.” Her voice shook. “I had no other choice but to let my father spearhead the search for you.” Her mouth twisted. “I fought cancer for three long years, thinking everything possible was being done to find you. The first few hours are critical in a kidnapping case, and then come the first few days, months, and years. As more time passes, the trail goes cold. I didn’t find out until ten years later that my father hadn’t done everything in his power to find you. It wasn’t until my father was on his deathbed that he told me the truth. He was relieved you were taken. Relieved that I wouldn’t be burdened with raising a child on my own, like he’d been. Relieved that the family name wouldn’t be tainted any longer by an illegitimate child.” A sob wrenched her throat. She put a hand to her mouth, her shoulders shaking. She took in a ragged breath, trying to gain control of her emotions.

  Delphine removed her glasses, placing them on the table, then looked at Rennen with pleading eyes. “A part of me died the day I lost you. For years, I prayed every day that I would find you. As time went on, I began to lose hope. My prayers changed. I prayed that if the Lord wouldn’t allow me to find you, that He’d lead you to a good family.” She smiled through her tears. “That portion of my prayer was answered. He sent the Boyds to you. I will forever be grateful to them.”

  Rennen gulped, trying to cough back the emotion, but it came shooting up like a geyser as a groan escaped his throat. He gulped, tears rolling down his cheeks.

  “You need to know that I’ve never stopped trying to find you. I hired investigator after investigator.” She let out a harsh laugh. “Of course I never dreamt that you were in Texas. I had no idea where you were, or even if you were still alive. But still I clung to the hope that I would someday see you again.” A weak smile touched her lips. “You can imagine my surprise when Thomas, my long-time chauffeur and friend, showed me your interview with Katie Moss. I sat there, unable to believe my eyes.” She laughed to herself. “All these years of searching, and there you were—plain as day.”

  Rennen wiped at his tears with the palms of his hands. “How did you know it was me?”

  “Because you look so much like my father.” She looked at Lainey who slid a picture across the table to Rennen. He gasped when he saw it. Same hair, same eyes, same determined set of the chin. Resentment surged through his veins. His grandfather hadn’t wanted him, had considered him an embarrassment. If he’d really searched for him, then all of this could’ve been avoided. He realized Delphine was speaking.

  “Like I said, you were named after my father Renatus. I called you René.” Her eyes cut into his. “But as a child, you couldn’t pronounce it.”

  His eyes bulged as he connected the dots. “It sounded like Rennen,” he gurgled. He shook his head. “I always thought I was given that name by a social worker.” His head was spiraling like a renegade football. “Why didn’t you tell me this when you saw me at the inn?”

  “I didn’t know for sure. I didn’t want to tell you and be wrong. I had to collect DNA evidence. Your toothbrush and hair.”

  He balled his fists to stay the trembling in his hands. His throat grew thick as he swallowed, looking acr
oss the table at his mother. He’d longed for this day, prayed for it continually in his youth. And then his heart had turned to stone as he picked himself up and got on with his life.

  She smiled through her tears. “You and I are more alike than you realize. When I overcame the cancer, I put my energy into searching for you. I was like some demented fool, determined to find you.” Her voice sounded heavy and labored. “But by that time, too many years had passed. I reached a point, where I knew if I didn’t channel my energy elsewhere, I’d go crazy. I kept a team of investigators on retainer, then turned my sights to building my cosmetic business.” She smiled thinly. “My work became my obsession.”

  “Just as football became mine,” Rennen added quietly.

  Delphine eyed Rennen with such intensity that he felt like she was seeing into his soul. “Finding you has been a dream come true.” Her voice quivered. “I want to be part of your life. But when I realized how angry and bitter you were …” She paused. “I panicked and called Ariana, hoping she could talk to you first … to pave the way for me. Then the story broke sooner than I expected.” She shrugged, giving him a tiny smile. “Now you know the full story. What you choose to do with it is up to you.” Her voice quivered. “Hate me if you must. But know this. I love you, son. I’ve always loved you and will never stop.”

  Tears filled Rennen’s eyes as a dam broke loose inside him. He laughed through the tears. Something Ariana said came rushing back. All the happiness in the world was at his feet, if only he wasn’t too stupid to take hold of it. Before he realized what he was doing, he was on his feet and rushing around the table. Delphine got to her feet as he crushed her in a hug.

  He buried his face in Delphine’s hair, inhaling her scent. A sense of something long-ago forgotten and tenuously familiar washed over him as a single word wrenched his throat. “Mom.”

  “I’m so glad I found you,” she breathed. “You’re a ghost no longer.”

  17

  The Titan practice field was buzzing with so many reporters and other seemingly important people that Ariana hardly recognized it as the place where she and Rennen had initially sparred. A boxing ring was set up in the center of the field with bleachers extending out on all four sides like endless ripples from a rock thrown in a pond. From what Ariana could tell, every inch of the bleachers was filled. Ariana was standing inside the ring, waiting for Rennen to arrive. She glanced up at the Jumbotron to her right. The YouTube video of her and Rennen sparring was playing on a loop. Words like kapow and splat had been added in key parts, making the footage look like an old episode of Spiderman. She wished they’d quit playing that stupid video over and over. Every time she watched it, all she could see was the adventure dancing in Rennen’s eyes as they squared off. That was the look that stole her heart—the challenge that made her want to rise up and meet him on every level.

  Rennen was late. Maybe he wasn’t coming. She swallowed her disappointment, trying to tell herself that it didn’t matter. Things had been much simpler when they had their first sparring match. She’d been so upset because she’d fallen for the guy who was taking Ace’s place on the Titans, never dreaming that was the least of her worries. After the fight with Rennen the day before, she’d sent Paul packing and was on the sofa, bawling, by the time Ace got to her apartment.

  She gave Ace the same spiel she’d given Rennen, saying how Rennen was always waiting for everyone to disappoint him and how she couldn’t live like that. She’d expected Ace to agree with her and was surprised when he came back with, “Give the guy a break. After all he’s been through, it’s a miracle he’s doing as well as he is. It’s obvious that Rennen loves you as much as you love him. Don’t let the past taint your future. You’re better than this anger. Quit being so dang stubborn.” When she tried to argue, he wagged a finger, giving her a look that cut her to the quick. “You know I’m right. When Rennen calls or comes over to apologize—and he will—let him make it right … for both your sakes.”

  Deep down, she knew Ace was right and was prepared to make up with Rennen. But Ariana hadn’t heard a word from him. She kept replaying the accusation in his eyes, hearing his hateful words. Maybe the two of them had been doomed before they ever really got started. After all, Rennen had some hefty baggage to sift through. And she was at a loss as to how to help him.

  She tightened her grip against the gauze and tape she’d wrapped around her hands. Her stomach felt queasy, partly due to the upcoming sparring match and partly due to her emotional state. She focused on breathing, hoping her training would take over. No hope of that!

  Her blood pressure shot through the roof when Rennen came trotting across the field, the smile of a champion plastered over his handsome face. He really did look like a Titan from Greek Mythology with his curls gleaming like burnished gold in the afternoon sun, his body chiseled to perfection. Was this the same broken man who’d left her apartment the day before? What in the heck happened to bring about this dramatic change? She scowled, a burst of anger running through her. It wasn’t right that he should be so composed when she was a wreck.

  He climbed into the ring, pumping his fist to the crowd. The song “We Are the Champions” by Queen boomed through nearby speakers as the audience went wild. Cartoon caricatures of Ariana and Rennen danced across the Jumbotron, boxing each other.

  Rennen flashed a dazzling smile, his eyes roving over her in a leisurely way that unleashed a parade of butterflies in her stomach. “You look great.”

  She scowled. What was he up to? She moved to the opposite side of the ring from where Rennen was standing. He wouldn’t be smiling when she knocked him on his butt.

  The emcee, a local celebrity who had his own sports talk show, stepped into the ring holding a microphone. He was dressed in a black tuxedo with shiny, black shoes to match.

  “Hello, everyone,” he boomed. “I’m Marshall Sanders, your host for this event. Let’s give it up for Rennen Bradley and Ariana Sanchez for so graciously agreeing to a rematch on the very field where the first one took place.”

  Applause thundered around the field, sounding like a stampede of eager elephants.

  Marshall held up a hand to quiet the crowd. “The rules are simple, folks. The first one who gets pinned on the mat for three seconds loses.” He motioned at Rennen and Ariana. “Come on now. Don’t be shy.”

  They stepped up and bumped fists.

  Marshall ducked through the ropes, stepping out of the ring. He looked over at the officials sitting behind a long table. “Do we have some sort of bell?”

  A referee stepped into the ring as a loud buzzer sounded.

  “There you go,” Marshall boomed, a smile larger than The Grand Canyon splitting his face. “It’s on.”

  Ariana crouched in fighting position, her blood pumping like a steam engine through her veins. A stupid grin washed over Rennen’s face as he stepped up to her.

  He raised his eyebrows. “This is gonna be fun.”

  His voice held the husky hint of promise, sending an unbidden tremble down her spine. She hated the effect he had on her. “You won’t think it’s so fun when I knock you on your butt,” she muttered. She lunged at him, but he neatly sidestepped her attempt, sending her rushing into the ropes where she had to catch herself from falling. She spun around, glaring at him. Her anger was making her clumsy.

  He only laughed.

  She’d forgotten how fast Rennen was. Sheesh, he really was like a ghost—so smooth he almost glided. They circled around, eyeing each other.

  “Come on,” he taunted. “Make your move.” His eyes danced. “And the more full-body contact the better.”

  “Pig,” she muttered, remembering their previous conversation about this very thing. “We can’t keep dancing around like this all day. One of us has to act.”

  He grinned. “Ladies first.”

  She let out a guttural growl as she rushed at him. She punched, her fist connecting with his jaw. He grunted in surprise. She followed the hit with a kick, but he defl
ected it.

  “Good one,” he said.

  He jabbed at her, but she slapped his arm in a classic deflection move. They went a few more rounds before she realized Rennen wasn’t really trying. This angered her more than anything.

  “Come on,” she yelled. “Don’t hold back just because I’m a girl.”

  “Oh, I wouldn’t dream of it,” Rennen said pleasantly.

  She went to sock him again, but he caught her arm and spun her around. He held her in a grip—so tight she felt like bands of steel were binding her. She tried to dig her heel into his foot but he moved it with a laugh. “Won’t work this time. I’ve got your moves memorized. See … full-body contact,” he murmured, his warm breath tickling her ear. “Have you had enough?”

  “Never,” she said fiercely, collapsing to her knees. The move took Rennen by surprise as he fell forward, knocking them both to the mat. Ariana turned, facing him. They wrestled around on the mat, each trying to get the upper hand. Energy pulsed through Ariana like a live wire, making her feel alive and completely in the moment.

  “You’re pretty tough, for such a little thing,” Rennen said admiringly, mischief sparking in his eyes.

  “Oh, you haven’t seen anything yet.” Ariana kept slinging punches with Rennen dodging them. She tried to put him in an armbar, but his freaking arm was too strong.

  “Have you given any thought to us?”

  Ariana let out an incredulous laugh. “You’re bringing this up now?” She had to draw back to keep from being put in a headlock.

  “Sure, why not? I have your undivided attention.”

  She gritted her teeth. “If you wanted to talk about us, you should’ve had the decency to call or stop by.” She couldn’t keep the hurt from sounding in her voice.

  “I would have, but I was a little busy … making up with my mom.”

  The breath left her lungs. “W-what?” Hope sprang in her breast, and with it came a burst of energy. If Rennen had worked through that, then maybe they weren’t doomed. She broke out of his grasp and jumped to her feet, whirling around to face him.