Imperfect

by Cherry Shephard

  She nods again. “I’ll marry you.”

  I release a shaky breath. “Are you sure that’s what you want?” I ask, watching her carefully. A part of me is screaming for joy, while the other, more rational side is telling me not to get my hopes up too much.

  “Yeah,” she replies with a small smile.

  I’m at her side in three steps, squatting down in front of her, gripping her hands. “Look at me,” I say quietly. She looks up, and I free one hand long enough to brush the hair out of her face. “Thank you,” I whisper, brushing her forehead with a feather-light kiss.

  “For what?” she asks, sounding confused.

  “For trusting me,” I answer. “I promise with every fiber of my being that I’ll take care of you.”

  “You’d better,” she says with a shaky smile.

  I enfold her in my arms. She rests her head against my chest through my t-shirt, and I bury my face in her hair. She smells so damn good, like a combination of vanilla and passion fruit. My cock stirs in my jeans, but I fight down the urge to take her into the bedroom and make love to her all night long. Now’s not the time for thinking those sorts of things.

  She leans back with a smile. “What will we tell Zeke?” she asks.

  I grin as I glance up and see his face pressed against the sliding glass door, wearing a huge smile. I nudge her and point in his direction. “Something tells me he already knows.” Shannon laughs, and I can’t keep my own smile from spreading. Her laugh is so infectious, it seems to light up her entire face, giving her a relaxed, carefree look. I want to keep that look her face for the rest of her life.

  The rest of the week passes by much too quickly and before I know it, it’s my wedding day.

  My wedding day. I still can’t believe it. In another hour, I’ll be Mrs. Shannon Stone. Ethan’s wife.

  Ruth smiles at me as she adjusts my veil and steps back, allowing me the opportunity to see myself for the first time. “You look beautiful, Shan,” she says quietly. For the first time in my life, I have to agree. I stare at my reflection in the full-length mirror. I’m wearing my mother’s wedding dress, with its layers of tulle and lace and the delicate sweetheart neckline. My fingers lightly touch the simple sapphire necklace around my throat as Ruth fixes my lace veil at the back. I should be excited, but something feels off. “Am I doing the right thing?” I ask her.

  Ruth raises her eyebrows to me. “You’re asking me that now?” she asks in disbelief. “Don’t tell me you’re getting cold feet.”

  I shake my head. “It’s nothing like that,” I promise. “I just have this unnerving feeling that something bad is about to happen.”

  “Don’t say that,” Ruth admonishes. “Nothing will happen to spoil today.”

  “I just wish Daddy was here to walk me down the aisle.”

  “I know you do, babe,” she says, dabbing at my damp eyes with a handkerchief. “But you know he’s here,” she continues, placing her hand gently over my heart. “Your momma, too.”

  “I don’t think Daddy’s accident was really an accident.”

  She freezes and moves her hand slowly away from me, her eyes searching my face in disbelief. “What the hell do you mean?” she gasps, a little too loudly.

  “Shhh,” I admonish, hoping no one overhears us. “I think someone set those dogs on Lady.”

  “Who?” Ruth whispers, her eyes wide.

  “I don’t know,” I admit, shaking my head. “It’s just something Effie said to me the other week.”

  “Shannon Marie Harper,” Ruth laughs, throwing her head back as her eyes sparkle in amusement. “Since when do you listen to idle gossip?”

  I feel my shoulders sag in relief. Of course, she’s right. I’m just being silly. Today is my wedding day, not a day for thinking negative thoughts. So why can’t I get that niggling feeling out of my head, that something terrible is about to happen? There’s a knock on the door, and she hurries over to answer it. “Zeke,” she says, sounding happy. “Come on in.”

  Leaning against my crutch, I plaster a smile on my face that will hopefully convince the biggest doubter, and slowly turn around to face Zeke. He’s the spitting image of his father in his dapper suit, and I let out a low wolf whistle. “Looking good, hon,” I tease. He blushes beet red and ducks his head. “I’m meant to take you to get married,” he states quietly, looking awfully embarrassed.

  I can’t help the small laugh that escapes my lips. “Well, then.” I grin. “By all means, let’s go.”

  He offers me his arm and I take it, balancing the crutch under my other arm as he gently leads me out of the room, preceded by Ruth, jangling the keys to her car nervously in her hand. I’m still feeling a little worried, but force a tight smile as she holds the car door open for me.

  The ceremony is meant to be a quick, quiet affair, but as we arrive at the stables, my jaw hits the floor. It looks as though the entire town has turned out for the wedding. I fight down a brief wave of nausea and force a smile as I turn to Zeke. “Are you ready to do this?” I ask, not feeling half as confident as I sound.

  “Absolutely.” He grins, jumping out of the car as Ruth puts it into park and hurrying around to my side to get the door. As I stand by the car, leaning on my crutch, I wish I’d listened to reason and brought the wheelchair. Why do I always have to be so damn stubborn?

  Zeke leads me slowly down the aisle behind Ruth who’s acting as my Maid of Honor. A twinge of pain twists my heart as I think of my sister, Natalie, who’s busy with her college finals. I wish she were here, she’d find a way to make this into a joke. I can’t help but think of what a strange picture I must make. This will make a great romance novel someday: The Bride with the Fucked-Up Leg.

  We’d be fucking millionaires.

  But first, I need to get through today. And the man standing at the end of the aisle in his black suit is my salvation. He’s staring back at me as I hobble down the aisle, a myriad of emotions passing through his eyes, but never quite reaching the rest of his handsome face.

  Has he changed his mind? Is he already regretting his decision? I feel myself start to panic, but Zeke’s reassuring arm on mine keeps me grounded.

  We reach the end of the aisle, and Stone steps heavily forward and takes my arm. I immediately miss the comfort of Zeke, but this man is about to be my husband. I’d do well to remember that. We turn silently to face the local pastor who clears his throat and begins to speak.

  If I’m completely honest, I don’t know what’s going on in the ceremony. Everything is such a blur.

  But before I know it, there’s a beautiful solitaire diamond ring on my finger, and Stone is kissing me rather stiffly as people cheer. I feel a sadness threaten to overwhelm me as I think about my parents. What would they have thought of this match?

  Stone leads me back down the aisle, and I force a smile at everyone as we pass them. My leg is starting to ache, and I wish once more I hadn’t been so damn stubborn about walking down the aisle.

  It’s as though Stone realizes my discomfort, because the next thing I know, he’s swinging me up into his arms and I’m forced to wrap my arms around his neck to stop from falling. Everyone around us cheers, seeing nothing more than a happy couple just married. They don’t see the set line of his lips, or the small tick in his jaw as he carries me to the waiting car.

  The reception is held at Saddles, and for once I’m able to enjoy myself rather than serve food and drinks behind the bar. Or at least, I probably could enjoy myself, if my husband would speak to me . . . or look at me.

  “Stone,” I say quietly, laying a hand on his arm. “What’s the matter?”

  “Nothing,” he replies tersely.

  I can’t help the sigh that escapes my lips as I sit back in my wheelchair. He glances over at me and releases a heavy breath, raking his free hand over his head.

  “Look, it’s not you, okay?” he says.

  “It’s you?” I smile dryly. What a cliché line.

  He smiles back. “Something like that
.”

  “I’m sorry we can’t do the whole first dance,” I apologize, gesturing to my bandaged leg.

  “It’s okay,” he says more gently. “We have the rest of our lives to dance.”

  “Do we?” I murmur, but I don’t think he hears me over the band starting up.

  I sit there for about an hour, alternating between jealousy and misery as I watch the other couples dance. This is my wedding, dammit. I should be up there, dancing my heart out. Not sitting here, nursing a glass of wine and feeling sorry for myself.

  “Shan?” Zeke says, walking over to me.

  “Yeah, sweetie?” I smile.

  He’s matured so much in just a week. It’s hard to believe this is the same shy kid who refused to speak to or look at anyone when he first arrived.

  “Would you like to dance?” he asks, holding his hand out expectantly.

  I glance down at my wheelchair, then back at Zeke. I can’t stop the laughter that bubbles up from my chest and spills out of my lips. I laugh until there are tears rolling down my cheeks. Then I’m squealing as Zeke marches to the back of the wheelchair, removes the brakes and pushes me into the middle of the dance floor. He spins me around and around as I laugh, then stops and dances in front of me. I can’t help but move my upper body in a strange attempt to dance along with him. This is the happiest I’ve been all day, and it’s all thanks to my new stepson.

  There’s a tap on my shoulder and I glance over to see Stone standing behind me, a strange smile on his face. “May I cut in?”

  This brings fresh laughter, and then it’s Stone spinning my chair around while Zeke laughs delightedly. Will I be as happy as I am right now for the rest of my life? I don’t ever want this night to end.

  All of a sudden, people around us stop dancing. They’re staring over at the door of the bar.

  The band stops playing, and Stone turns my chair around. However, because I’m sitting while everyone else is standing, I can’t see a thing. “What’s going on?” I ask Zeke.

  “It’s the police,” he says in a low voice.

  The police? What the hell are they doing here? Has something happened?

  Stone pushes forward through the crowd. “Can I help you, officers?”

  “We’re looking for a Miss Shannon Harper,” I hear one of the policemen say.

  “It’s Mrs. Shannon Stone now,” Stone corrects him, and I feel my chest puff up proudly.

  The crowd parts, and I see two young, armed officers standing there with Stone, who gestures to me.

  One tips his hat and moves toward my chair. “Mrs. Stone?”

  “Yes?”

  “I’m afraid you’re going to have to come with us.”

  “Is there a problem?” I can feel the blood draining from my face.

  “Mrs. Stone, I’m sorry to inform you like this, but you’re under arrest for the murder of Rachel Stevenson. You have the right to remain silent. Anything you say can and will be used against you in a court of law . . .”

  He’s still talking as he pushes my wheelchair forward, but I don’t hear him. All I can picture is that poor girl, floating in the river. Had that been her name? Rachel? My heart aches for the loss of her life. There’s a strange ringing in my ears as the room erupts.

  “She didn’t do it!” someone shouts.

  “Please, you can’t do this,” Ruth begs.

  “NO!” Stone bellows, forcing himself between us and the door. “You’re not fucking taking her. Who the fuck is Rachel Stevenson? We don’t know anyone by that name!”

  “Mr. Stone,” one of the officers says. “Please remove yourself, or we’ll be forced to arrest you for obstruction of justice.”

  I hear that, through my haze, and lift my head. “Stone,” I say, loudly enough for him to hear.

  He drops to his knees in front of my chair, tears freely streaming down his face. “Shannon,” he whispers brokenly. “What’s going on? What are they talking about?”

  “It’s Troy,” I say, fighting back tears of my own. “Two years ago a drug deal went wrong, and a girl was killed. It was him, I know it.”

  “But that’s got nothing to do with you,” he says, standing and turning to face the officers once more. “You can’t take her,” he says loudly, poking the closest officer in the chest. He’s so close they’re almost bumping noses. “She’s innocent, I know it.”

  “I’m sorry, sir,” the officer says firmly, taking a step back. “Right now, there’s nothing we can do. She will be transported tomorrow morning for arraignment.”

  A growl escapes Stone’s throat, and he drops once more to his knees in front of me. “They can’t do this,” he whispers, holding my face between his large hands.

  “I have to go,” I say, gripping his hands against my cheeks. “Take care of Zeke,” I say, placing a soft kiss on his lips. I try to pull away, but he drags me back in for another air-stealing kiss that leaves me breathless. In that moment, I know. His feelings are made abundantly clear.

  Stone reluctantly stands back and the officers wheel me out of the bar, gently placing me in the back seat of the patrol car. I must look ridiculous. I’m still in my mother’s wedding dress, for God’s sake.

  I can’t bring myself to look at the crowd that spills out of the bar. Zeke is running alongside the car, shouting something at me as we drive away, but I keep my face carefully calm and don’t look at him.

  If I do, I’ll fall apart. But there’s no mistaking the scream of fury that echoes over the crowd. It’s the sound of a man falling apart, a man driven to madness by the demons of his nightmares.

  It’s my husband.

  They fucking arrested her.

  Just when I thought things were finally looking up, they came and took her away from me. My reason to smile. I swallow another mouthful of beer, my sobriety long gone as I sit on the back porch. I don’t fucking care. She’s gone. I was finally starting to get better. The voices in my head had stopped, as had the nightmares every time I closed my eyes. Now all I can see is the terror on Shannon’s face as they took my new wife away. She’d tried to be brave; I could see it in the stubborn set of her jaw as they’d pushed the wheelchair out. Poor Zeke had been inconsolable, clinging to Ruth as he cried. And I’d stood there. Still as a statue.

  I’d let them take her.

  A cry of fury rips from my throat, and I throw the empty bottle I’m holding in my hand. It hits one of the posts holding the porch up and shatters. The noise is deafening in the quiet night air. I pick up a fresh beer from the six-pack beside me and open it, swallowing a mouthful as the porch door opens. The light flicks on and I blink at the sudden brightness. “Jesus Christ,” I slur, holding my forearm across my eyes. “Turn that shit off.”

  “What are you doing?” Zeke asks as he steps out onto the porch.

  My eyes adjust to the light and I slowly lower my arm and give him a lazy smile. “Want a beer?”

  Zeke shakes his head, his mouth set in a firm line. “What are you doing?”

  “I’m getting drunk,” I say, sweeping my arm about grandly. “What else are you meant to do when your wife’s in prison on your wedding night?”

  “You fucking disgust me,” Zeke snaps, spitting the words out.

  I stare up at him, my mouth hanging slightly open. “You watch your tongue, boy.”

  Zeke says nothing but stomps over to me and picks up an unopened beer. He’s taking my advice. I can finally relax. I close my eyes and rest my head back against the couch. That’s when I hear it. The smash of the glass bottle.

  I open my eyes and stare in horror as Zeke smashes bottle after bottle of unopened beer. “What the hell do you think you’re doing?” I gasp in disbelief.

  He turns to face me, and I flinch at the furious scowl on his face. “You’re a pig,” he says. “Your wife is in prison for murder, and you’re sitting here fucking getting drunk.”

  “I said watch your tongue.”

  “Like I give a rat’s ass what you think of me!” Zeke shouts. “You were
never there for me when I was growing up, and now when things are difficult for Shannon, you’re going to turn your back on her, too.”

  “Zeke, I—”

  “I don’t want to hear your damn excuses, Dad,” he says sarcastically. “You’ve made enough of them to last us all a lifetime. Just do me a favor.” He pauses and brushes the hair out of his face. “Save Shannon, or stay the fuck out of our lives.” He storms off the porch and a few minutes later, I hear the front door slam. I’m still sitting in the same position, shocked into silence.

  His outburst has shocked me sober, leaving me with an overwhelming sense of guilt. Zeke is right; I’ve abandoned everyone who’s ever meant something to me. But I don’t know what else to do. I’ve never been the hero. I’ve never wanted to be. But the thought of Shannon, alone in prison, spurs me into action. I dress quickly in a black t-shirt and clean jeans. Grabbing my truck keys, I pause and mentally shake my head. I’ve had way too much to drink to drive.

  I grab the cordless phone from the coffee table in the living room and call a cab. Waiting impatiently for it to arrive, I pace back and forth at the front of the house. I have no idea what I’m going to do, but I can’t just sit here and let Shannon rot in jail. I see headlights approaching, barely giving the driver enough time to stop before I jump in the back of the cab. I practically shout the directions to the club I went to with Shannon a few weeks ago. “Hey, buddy,” the driver says over his shoulder. “That club is an hour away.”

  “I don’t care,” I seethe through gritted teeth as I remove a one-hundred-dollar bill from my wallet and pass it to him. “Keep the damn change.”

  “You got it.”

  I say nothing for the rest of the trip, just sit in the back seat and plan my next move. Find Shannon’s ex, Troy. This is all connected to him.

  We pull up at the club and I throw another fifty over the front seat as I jump out. I jog up to the entrance and thankfully get past the bouncers without a problem.