Love Blooms

by Jo McNally

  Nikki turned the white cap in her hands with a frown. “Have you tried talking to him? Did something...bad...worse than the usual, happen to him on this deployment?”

  Lucy swung her legs back and forth under the tailgate.

  “I’ve tried talking. He keeps saying things will be fine after the wedding. When I cornered him before the rehearsal tonight, he said that we just have to—” she formed air quotes with her fingers “—‘get through it’ and then we can start our lives. He looks at marrying me as something he has to get through, Nikki. I can’t get him to talk about anything that happened on his last deployment. He just says it was tougher than the first, but he’s fine. That’s all he says, over and over. ‘It was tough, but I’m fine. It was tough, but I’m fine.’ Like if he says it often enough he might actually believe it. But I sure as hell don’t.”

  There was a beat of silence.

  “Do you still love him?” Nikki asked softly.

  Wasn’t that The Question?

  For the first time in a long time, Lucy forced herself to look directly at it. Did. She. Love. Owen? Impossible to say for certain, at least in that moment. Which was terrifying. She loved how she used to feel with Owen. Protected. Happy. Simple. That was the operative word. Simple.

  Life was simple with him. Uncomplicated. Whether it was gathering with friends or making love together, everything just...worked. But was that love?

  Lucy threw her hands up. “I thought I did... I think I do...but what if this is a horrible mistake? What if I have no idea what love even is? What if we end up just pretending for decades like my parents? Tolerating each other until we hate each other? What if he never snaps out of this robotic mood of his? What if I’m only marrying him because he’s a safe choice? I said yes years ago. What if we’re strangers now?” She slid off the tailgate and started pacing back and forth. “We’ve put our relationship on hold more than once. Maybe that’s a sign. Maybe I’ll wake up someday and regret everything. Will I become my mother? Worse, oh God, what if I become his?”

  Nikki hopped off the tailgate and stepped in front of Lucy, taking her by the upper arms and giving her a gentle shake. “Slow the What-if Train down a few notches, kiddo, before you hyperventilate. I can’t decide if this freak-out is you being prudent or you being irrational.” She turned Lucy around and they walked around the parking lot perimeter. “When’s the last time you ate?”

  Lucy scowled in thought. “Breakfast?”

  Nikki nodded. “And how much have you had to drink?”

  “A...few glasses of wine. Plus a shot of something blue.”

  “Lovely.” Nikki grimaced. “I’m taking you home, but first we’re stopping at Popeye’s for some fried chicken to soak up that booze. In the morning, after a good night’s sleep, then you can make your final decision.” Nikki pulled out her keys and pushed a button to unlock her shiny blue convertible, tossing the white cap onto the back seat. “If you decide to marry this guy, which is what we’ve been planning for weeks, then I will make sure you’re at the church and headed down that aisle as scheduled.” They both got into the car, and Nikki started the engine, which rumbled to life like an angry tiger being disturbed from sleep. “And if you decide you absolutely don’t want to marry the guy you’ve been engaged to for years, then...” Nikki pulled out of the parking lot and hit the gas, sending Lucy’s Bride hat flying out of the back seat and floating away in the warm night air.

  “Well, if you don’t want to do this, I’ll help you make a run for it.” She said it as casually as if she was telling Lucy she’d buy doughnuts. But Lucy knew Nikki meant it. Instead of making her sad or anxious, the idea of an escape plan loosened something around her heart. It felt like... She blinked away tears and stared out the passenger side so Nikki wouldn’t see.

  It felt like hope. Plus a little bit of nausea.

  CHAPTER TWO

  OF ALL THE contingencies Owen Cooper had prepared for on his wedding day, having his bride’s best friend hand him a Dear Owen letter at the church was nowhere on the list. Nikki Taggart looked almost pleased with herself when she did it, too. She hadn’t done anything more than give the slightest of crooked half smiles, but he should have known it meant trouble. He should have been at least somewhat prepared for the bombshell he found inside the envelope. After eight years in the Army, bombshell wasn’t a word he used loosely. But at that moment, as he stood there in the church vestibule wearing his tuxedo, boutonniere in place...well, it was hard to imagine even a roadside IED could shake him up more than this.

  Lucy had left him. Left. Him. On their goddamn wedding day! He closed his eyes and willed his heart rate to slow. Flying off the handle would accomplish nothing. Every problem had a solution. He’d learned long ago not to complain about anything to his father or grandfather unless he also presented a solution. Same thing in the Army. Never bitch about a plan unless you had a better one. He blew out a long, slow breath, reprocessing the past few weeks to figure out where it all went wrong.

  He knew Lucy had been uptight. His dad said all brides became bridezillas as the wedding got closer, so he’d dutifully dismissed Lucy’s heavy sighs and restlessness as just normal bride stuff. She was the one with the max pressure, putting this together with his mom. Lord knew that couldn’t have been easy. Mom could be a real bulldozer when she wanted to have her own way. Which was always.

  Sure, he’d been surprised to get home after his discharge to learn that hundreds of people were coming to this thing. Lucy always talked about keeping their wedding small. But she must have agreed to it. If that’s what she wanted, he figured he could handle it for one day. Dad said the wedding was always about the bride anyway. Owen’s role was to show up and smile.

  But Lucy kept asking his opinion on stuff. Did he like the flowers? Did he like the menu? Did he like the idea of a pink champagne-flavored cake? It almost felt like a test. One he was destined to fail. He wanted her to pick whatever she wanted. Seemed like the only possible right answer. Lucy hadn’t had the easiest of childhoods, and if she’d decided she wanted this big, fantasy wedding instead of barefoot on a mountaintop, it was fine with him. Him telling her he didn’t care what flavor of cake she picked didn’t mean he didn’t care about her.

  She’d mentioned more than once in her emails during his final months in Afghanistan that things weren’t her “style,” but she’d ordered all this stuff, so it was too late to change it now. Unless, of course, she just walked away. Away from everyone. Away from him.

  One of the things he loved most about Lucy was her free spirit. Her quick laugh and willingness to try some new adventure, from kitesurfing to ziplining. She’d upended his world when they met. She was a sparkling counterbalance to his rigidly controlled life. His sunshine surprise. Unpredictable. But this? For her to just...leave. She was the kindest person he’d ever met, so how could she do this?

  How had he missed the signs? Had she given him any? Had he been too far into his own head to notice? Lucy had been tense since his return. Restless. He’d brushed off her concerns more than once, so he could hardly say she hadn’t tried to talk. But damn...just a few months ago he’d been freezing his ass off in the Hindu Kush mountains,. He’d rolled out of his bunk more than once, in the supposed safety of their own camp, with enemy shells landing just yards away. Men died. And a few weeks later he was back in the States, listening to conversations about linen tablecloths vs. lace ones. It felt like mental whiplash, so...he’d tuned it out. Tuned her out.

  And she’d definitely noticed. There were times it seemed she was more worried about him than she was about the wedding. She wanted to know why he was quieter than usual. Did something happen overseas? Do you want to talk about it? Are you really okay? He kept saying he was fine, but she didn’t believe it any more than he did. He kept changing the subject, not wanting his experiences to darken Lucy’s big day.

  But now the big day was here. And Lucy wasn’t.
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  Maybe he’d been gone too damn long. They met right before his second deployment to the Middle East. By the time he got back and proposed, she was helping take care of her sick grandmother. They decided to wait to get married—it didn’t make sense for her to be stuck on some base, sitting alone. And she’d agreed. Just like everything else with Lucy, it was easy. Uncomplicated.

  He looked down at her note, crumpled in his too tight grip. There was nothing easy or uncomplicated about this. Guests were arriving. The pastor was standing a few feet away, watching Owen in wary silence. He’d probably done enough of these things to recognize trouble when he saw it. And this was way beyond trouble. In Army lingo, this was FUBAR. Fucked Up Beyond All Recognition.

  Owen muttered a few curses under his breath. This wasn’t the time to try understanding why it happened. It happened—was actively happening–and he had to deal with it. He’d have to tell everyone to go home. Call the caterer and deal with the food. Worst of all...he’d have to break the news to his mother.

  A piercing howl of female fury echoed down the hallway from the rooms where the rest of the bridal party was still getting ready. He could check one thing off his to-do list. His mother definitely knew.

  * * *

  LUCY STARED AT the drugstore shopping bag sitting on the dresser in her tiny hotel room in Pennsylvania. The stop at the strip plaza drugstore near the hotel had been impulsive, and now she was doubting a few of her choices. But if she wanted to be a new person, she needed to do new things. Was hot pink a good hair color for her? There was only one way to find out. But first...the scissors.

  Fifteen minutes later, the hotel trash bin was filled with six-inch-long locks of discarded tawny blond hair. The choppy shoulder-length layers she’d hacked into existence made her laugh. She stared into the mirror, running her fingers through what felt like someone else’s hair. Someone else’s life. Before she had time to second-guess herself, she grabbed the box of hair dye and got busy.

  When she was done, the woman staring back at her in the mirror left her speechless. The color had taken differently in spots, probably due to the fact that she had no idea what she was doing. It was a softer rose gold in some areas, with intense spikes of hot pink in others. It was...fun, like an anime character. Or a more grown-up version of the Sparkle Pony Princess doll she’d played with as a kid. It made her smile. It made her feel fun. Lighter. Free. And—armed with the six-pack of mango-flavored hard seltzer she’d picked up at the store—it made her feel brave enough to turn her phone on and deal with the debris she’d left in her wake. She put the phone on speaker and chugged the seltzer faster as each voice mail played. If there was such a thing as a runaway bride bingo card, she would have ticked off all the squares and won.

  Her parents, distressed. Don’t throw your life away because of us.

  Her sister, awed. Damn girl, I didn’t know you were serious. You’re gonna be the talk of this town for years.

  Her bridesmaids together on someone’s speaker, sounding like a chicken coop full of agitated hens.

  What happened? Did you catch him screwing around?

  Did you meet someone else?

  Did you find out something awful about Owen?

  Ohmygod, like this one story I saw on Dateline about this guy in Houston. It turned out he had a collection of human teeth....

  Next was Faye Cooper, voice dripping with rage. She was a drama queen on a good day. And this would not have been a good day for her. After all we did... I tried to tell Owen years ago...do you know how much seventeen swan-shaped ice sculptures cost?

  Nikki Taggart, amused. I’m not saying I intentionally waited until they were all at the church to deliver your notes, but I’m not saying I didn’t...

  And then there was Owen. Urgent. Confused. Send a text to let me know you’re safe. For the love of God, tell me why. A long, tension-filled pause. What happened? Was it me? What can I do?

  But then he pivoted to more practical matters, as always. I’m sure it’s no surprise that my parents are unhappy. I don’t know what to tell them. His voice broke. His obvious confusion and hurt made her doubt herself. She tossed the phone on the nightstand and turned on the television. Maybe another can of seltzer would help. Maybe another ancient episode of Law and Order would make her feel less like a criminal.

  Maybe she should drive back to Greensboro in the morning. Explain herself to everyone. They deserved that much, right? She looked up and caught her reflection in the mirror. The chopped pink hair made her look younger than she felt. Her grandmother had always called her an old soul. She didn’t look like an old soul now. She looked like a spunky anime character with a solid dose of She-Ra. She grinned at her reflection. The would-be wife was gone now. And she wasn’t coming back.

  Goodbye, Lucy. Hello, Princess Sparkle Pony McDoesntCare, the Wild Woman of the North.

  Lucy had driven all the way to southern Pennsylvania. In Nikki’s blue convertible. As she drove, she’d alternated between laughing out loud at her reflection in the rearview mirror, and crying in horror at what she’d just done. Whenever the tears threatened to blur her vision and make her a danger to the other drivers, she’d force another laugh. It had made for a wild and exhausting journey.

  Technically she didn’t leave Owen at the altar. There’s no way it would have gotten that far. But Nikki’s voice mail made it sound like it had been pretty damn close. She’d left several notes for her friend to deliver. Her parents. His parents. Her sister. She’d spent most of last night packing and writing notes.

  True to her word, Nikki had been all in when Lucy called her at five in the morning.

  “I can’t do it,” Lucy had blurted out.

  “Uh...” Nikki cleared her throat. She’d obviously been sound asleep. “You’re gonna need to be more specific...”

  “I can’t do this.” Her words came in a rush. “It would feel like marrying a stranger. It wouldn’t be fair—not to Owen...not to me. I feel like a stranger. I don’t know who I am... I’m a mess! How can I marry him like this? I don’t know if I’m in love... Or what love is... Or marriage. It’s not fair to Owen. I can’t...”

  “Okay.” Nikki had been wide-awake by that point. “Inhale, sweetie. Hold it. Then exhale. Are you really telling me you’re canceling the wedding? The wedding that takes place in...six hours?”

  “I can’t do it.” As jumbled as her emotions were, that was the one sentence that repeated itself in her head, over and over again. “I need to leave. I need to go. I can’t do it.”

  It was Nikki’s idea for Lucy to head north. In the convertible. Nikki referred to the Mustang as her therapy. She drove a hybrid SUV for her everyday travels. Lucy, on the other hand, drove a vintage Volkswagen Beetle she’d inherited from her grandmother. It was the one thing Owen had shown actual emotion over since his return. He’d taken one horrified look at the balding tires and insisted she get them replaced. Like he thought she had some magical money tree in the backyard. As if his parents had been paying her much more than minimum wage at Cooper Landscaping. The VW got her around town. How bad could it be?

  But Nikki had put her foot down, saying Lucy needed to leave Buttercup—her grandmother’s name for the old car—in North Carolina. At least for now.

  Nikki sounded like Owen about the car. So logical. “Lord knows your old Bug won’t make that trip. If you decide to stay there a while, we’ll figure out something. I’ll fly up or whatever. I promise driving my convertible will be good for your soul. You’ll feel like a Thelma and Louise badass.” Nikki had given her a wink. “Just don’t go driving off any cliffs with it.”

  As she’d driven, thankful for the warm June sunshine on her face, she realized this was one of the very few times in her life she’d been truly on her own. Certainly the farthest away she’d been from home, other than a few vacation trips. She’d gone from her childhood home to college, where she’d shared a dorm room
with Alice Nasmith, one of her stunned bridesmaids. She’d lived alone for a while in Wilmington, but she’d met Owen there and, even though he was back and forth between her apartment and Fort Bragg, she’d never felt alone. They emailed and texted constantly, even when he was deployed.

  Then her grandmother had fallen ill agaun right after he’d returned from that deployment—his second, but the first since they’d met. They’d bounced between Grandma’s place up in the mountains and Fort Bragg in Fayetteville for a year, and then he was gone again. This time he’d left her with a ring on her finger. After Grandma lost her long battle with cancer, Lucy moved in with her parents, going to work for Owen’s parents at Cooper Landscaping and finding herself ensnared in the supercharged Cooper family dynamics.

  If she’d gone through with the wedding, she’d have been living with Owen in the apartment he’d found in Greensboro, having never lived her own life. She’d never dated anyone else seriously, at least not since high school. She’d never discovered what she was or wasn’t capable of on her own.

  Sometime later, Lucy woke with a jolt, sitting up and blinking at the television’s glow. She hadn’t been out too long, because the Law and Order episode playing was still from the Lennie Briscoe years. Pink-haired Princess Sparkle Pony blinked back at her from the mirror on the wall. She wasn’t sure what she’d dreamed about, but her only thought was that she needed to let Owen know she was okay. She’d never responded to his calls or texts. But even Princess Sparkle Pony didn’t have the guts to call him directly. A text was the coward’s way out, but she wasn’t prepared for anything more.

  I’m okay.

  It was well after midnight, but his reply was instant.

  Thank Christ.

  That was such an Owen thing to do. He cared about people. He cared about her. She tapped her screen.