by Rita Herron
Vivica helped Mimi bring over the tray, laden with their coffees and a sampling of pastries, including chocolate chip muffins. Vivica immediately snatched one.
"Want some of those at the reception?" Mimi asked with a giggle.
"I was thinking of having the entire wedding cake made out of the batter."
They all laughed and Mimi spread out her ideas for the menu. "The groom's cake isn't always traditional. How about we make it the chocolate-chocolate chip?"
"That's a wonderful idea," Vivica exclaimed.
"And we'll serve crab and shrimp appetizers—"
"And I want some of those swirly cheese sticks and spinach dip. Those are all Joe's favorites."
Alison's mind wandered as the other women discussed the food selections. What would she serve at her own wedding?
Strawberries, steak kabobs, chocolate éclairs…
She frowned in disgust. No, she wouldn't serve any of those things. They were all Brady's favorites.
She had to forget about Brady's preferences and start learning Thomas's.
* * *
Brady spent the morning working in the print shop, finishing up materials for a professor's presentation on careers for students at a local junior college.
Since his own career was up in the air, maybe he should attend, he mused.
"Brady, hon, Vivi and Alison are stopping by to check those invitations. You ran a few samples, didn't you?"
He nodded. "I'll get them."
Wading through the stacks of papers and orders to be picked up, he finally located the box and pulled an invitation out to check it himself.
Mrs. Inez Broussard requests the honor of your presence at the wedding of her son,
Brady Broussard,
to
Alison Leigh Hartwell.
August 4, 2000
6:00 p.m.
Sugar Hill Chapel.
Good Lord! What a Freudian slip! He'd entered the correct date and time, but he'd typed in the wrong names.
Vivica was going to kill him. And what if Alison saw the invitation?
He had to do something fast.
But the door opened and in walked his sister and soon-to-be ex-wife.
Brady stuffed the invitation in the box and crammed it under the counter. He'd run them through the shredder later. Now he had to stall.
Vivica waved. "Hey, Brady, we dropped by to check the invitations."
He glanced from his sister to Alison, drinking in the sight of her. A pale pink blouse hugged her subtle curves, and tailored white slacks fit her trim body. Although she appeared professional, she reminded him of a strawberry ice-cream cone he wanted to devour.
Only she wasn't smiling or even making eye contact with him.
After the way they'd parted yesterday, he shouldn't have expected her to act differently, but it still hurt to have her look right past him as if they'd never shared an intimate moment in their lives.
"The invitations need to go out this week," Alison said in a businesslike voice. "If we can just check them, Vivi can make sure everything's correct."
He cleared his throat. "I'm sorry, Vivi, but the printer went haywire and smeared the ink. I just got the problem repaired. I'll run some copies and bring them when I come to therapy."
Vivica frowned. "Well, okay, I guess."
Alison nodded. "Call me if there's a problem, Vivi."
Then she turned and left without acknowledging him. Brady stared after her, his heart lurching.
"You should try and make up with her," Vivica said.
He glared at her. "There would have to be something between us in order for us to make up. Besides, you said she was dating that doctor."
"So?"
"So, nothing. It's over."
Vivica shook her head. "You're not fooling me, Brady. And I don't understand why you'd throw away a chance for happiness with someone as great as Ali."
Brady ignored her and took the box to the shredder. But he hesitated, then stuck one of the invitations in his pocket. No, Vivica wouldn't understand it, not unless he explained. And he didn't intend to. Not even when she tortured him during therapy sessions.
* * *
Alison was grateful to have her business as a distraction. She had four weddings in July, then Vivica's the beginning of August, and a thousand details to take care of for each. When she hung up the phone at five o'clock, her head was pounding. The bridesmaids' dresses for Amy Davenport's wedding, which were already two weeks late, had finally come in, but they were all the wrong sizes, and bright pink instead of pale green. Administrators at the park reserved for Judy Butler's outdoor wedding had called to tell Alison a softball tournament for Little Leaguers had been scheduled that same day. And the reception hall where Beth Dupree was getting married next week had just been quarantined for some weird kind of bacteria growing in the walls that had made dozens of Girl Scouts sick with diarrhea the day before.
The phone pealed and Alison hissed. "This had better not be another emergency." She sucked in a deep breath and answered the phone. "Weddings to Remember, Alison Hartwell."
"Oh, my gosh, Miss Hartwell, you won't believe what's happened!"
"Who is this?"
"Denny over at Fancy Flowers. It's just awful, I don't know what we're going to do! Aphids have eaten all our boutonnieres for tomorrow!"
Alison dropped her head in her hands. "Oh, my gosh." The bride certainly didn't want her wedding to be memorable because bugs were crawling all over the groomsmen.
Ten minutes later, she'd calmed Denny, and they'd solved the problem by ordering from another florist in Atlanta. Denny was miffed about his loss, but the wedding had to go on.
Alison stepped outside, on her way home, when she heard the slight roar of an engine and looked up to see a small plane soaring above her. She'd never once seen a plane in the sky that hadn't made her think about Brady.
As she walked the two blocks to her flat, she remembered the letter he'd written about his first flight and his excitement.
Dear Alison,
God, baby, you won't believe what a day. It finally happened – I got my wings. Yep, after all these months, I finally got to crawl into the cockpit of a fighter jet and really take her up. It was so much better than I'd imagined, and I've imagined it a lot, ever since I was six. I wondered if all that basic training stuff, all those boring lectures and manuals, the crap from the sarge, the simulator flights, were all worth it. But they were. I was soaring in the clouds, my hands on the controls, the engine humming, and it felt so right, like I knew just where I belonged.
I wish I could see you, Ali, and take you up with me. We'd ride in the clouds and I'd show you everything I've learned. Then we'd fly down to our spot at the lake and make love all night long. Sometimes when I'm lying in my bunk at night, I close my eyes, and I swear I can hear your voice whispering my name. And if I try really hard, I can hear you moaning like you did that night we made love. The purr of the engine today reminded me of that sound, and now every time I hear it, I think about you.
Love always,
your Brady
Alison blinked back tears as she remembered Brady's comment about staying in Sugar Hill and running the print shop. Even if he didn't want her anymore, he couldn't give up flying. He'd be miserable. As soon as she got home, she had to call Vivica and tell her to talk to him.
* * *
The therapy session had been brutal. He preferred the morning sessions to late afternoon, but he was trying to accommodate Vivica's schedule.
Brady soaked in a hot bath, gradually feeling the tightness in his muscles dissipate and the pain in his body recede to a more tolerable level. Unfortunately, the pain of losing Alison would probably never leave him.
Shaking off the self-pity, he dried himself off, dragged on a pair of shorts and decided to settle on the patio to enjoy the late evening breeze with a Scotch, his alternative to the pain pills the doctor had prescribed. One drink wouldn't knock him out, but the medication would.
Dear Brady,
I just got back from out first football game and had to write you. We lost seven to nothing, and I couldn't help but think that if you'd been on the field, we would have kicked their butts. I used to love to watch you play quarterback. All the girls did. You looked so handsome in that uniform, all those muscles rippling and that serious game face on. Now I lie in bed at night and imagine you in your Air Force uniform, and I bet you look twice as handsome, twice as strong. My hero. I miss you so much that sometimes I look out into the crowd and think I see you, then realize I'm only daydreaming, that you're hundreds of miles away. But Brady, you're never far away in my heart. I light a candle for you in my window every night and whisper a prayer that you'll come back to me safe and sound. That one day I'll feel your lips kiss me again, that one night I'll wake to find you in my bed.
The lights will be low, the candlelight flickering on your naked body, your muscles bunching as you strain above me. My body tingles all over just thinking about your hands exploring the sensitive spots you kissed that first night we made love. Secret places that no one has ever touched or kissed before. Places no one but you will ever see or feel. And you'll smile and grow hard against me, your body tensing when you realize that I've been naked, lying in bed for hours, just waiting for you.
Only you, Brady, it will always be only you.
I love you forever & ever & always,
Alison
Brady closed his eyes, letting Alison's words wash over him like a balm to his wounded soul. Those words had kept him alive while he'd been recovering in the hospital. Now he had to do the unselfish thing and release her from her promises, so she could find happiness with someone else.
* * *
Alison wound the phone cord around her finger. "Listen, Vivi, you have to talk to Brady. Make him realize he can't even think about staying here and taking over the print shop."
"I agree. But what can I do?"
"Just keep pushing him to talk. Find out why he'd consider leaving the Air Force."
Vivica sighed. "I'll try, but I think you should be the one talking to him. I know he still cares about you, Ali."
"No, he wants to move on, and that's okay."
"What happened between you two?" Vivica asked gently.
"We just grew up and went different ways," Alison said simply. "I can accept it, but even if I'm not a part of his life, he'll never be happy here running a small business." She tucked a strand of hair behind her ear. "I know he needs time to heal from his accident, but he has to miss flying. It's always been such a big part of him."
"All right, all right, I'll talk to him." Vivica paused. "Ali, are you sure you're going to be okay?"
Alison pasted on a brave face even though Vivica couldn't see her through the phone. "I'll be fine."
"What about Thomas?"
Alison closed her eyes and tried to imagine being married to Thomas. "I … don't know right now, Vivi. I mean, he's wonderful and so nice, but…"
"But he's not Brady."
Alison's throat clogged. She didn't even bother to reply.
* * *
Brady heard a knock on the door and tried to ignore it, but Vivica pushed through anyway. He glanced over his shoulder from the patio and glared at her. "Did you come to torture me some more?"
Vivica laughed softly. "I'm not pushing you to do anything you're not ready for."
Brady arched a brow. "You're worse than my lieutenant at flight training. Are you sure you didn't join the service while I was gone?"
Vivica folded her arms and laughed again as she leaned against the balcony rail. He watched her inhale the fresh evening air and thought how happy she seemed, how calm. She'd been a pretty wild teenager, but between college, her job and her new love interest, she'd definitely mellowed.
"What are you doing out here? Watching the stars?"
Brady nodded and tucked the letter beneath his leg. "Something like that."
Vivica turned to him, her gaze level. "You're not seriously considering staying here in Sugar Hill and taking over the family business, are you?"
Brady shrugged. "What if I was?"
Vivica frowned. "You'd be making a big mistake, Brady. I know how much you love the Air Force, how much you love flying—"
"I'm not going to discuss this with you, Vivi." He rose and limped inside, tucking the letter inside his T-shirt.
Vivica followed him. "Why not? What are you afraid of, Brady?"
He stiffened, anger churning through him. "I'm not afraid of anything. But I've grown up. Maybe I've decided the responsible thing to do is come back and help Mom."
"Mom can hire help if she needs it. She doesn't need you to be a martyr and give up flying—"
He swung around. "Vivi—"
"Alison is concerned, too, Brady."
"What the hell does Alison have to do with this?"
"She cares about you, you big idiot. I just got off the phone with her and she's worried—"
"I don't want Alison Hartwell's pity or concern."
"What happened between you two? You used to care about her."
"That was high school stuff, Vivi."
"But you wrote her for a while."
"Yeah, but I got tired of that and quit."
Vivica sighed. "If I'd known you'd stopped writing her, I'd have called her when you had the accident."
"I'm glad you didn't. I didn't want her pity then and I sure don't want it now."
"This isn't about pity, Brady, it's about your future. You love flying and I think you still care about Alison. I've seen the way you look at her—"
"I told you I'm not going to discuss this with you." He stared at her and pointed to the door. "Now, I'm tired, and if I'm going to make it through another one of your torture sessions tomorrow, I need to go to bed."
Vivica's mouth compressed into a tight line as she stomped out the door. Brady winced when she slammed it behind her.
* * *
Chapter 9
« ^ »
Run, man, run! You have to save him.
Brady's own voice echoed inside his head. He shoved the rocks off of his leg and stood. But his leg buckled, refusing to cooperate. He cursed and dragged himself through the dirt toward the mangled plane, his heart pounding. The fire was like a hungry monster, consuming the plane, eating the metal and glass as if it were dry brush.
Josh! He tried to yell, but another explosion rent the air, drowning his voice. Flames burst from every part of the fighter jet. God, he had to hurry.
He grabbed the tip of the wing and crawled over it, scorching his hands and knees. He tore at the debris, pushed through the flames, calling Josh's name.
Then he saw his friend's face. Blood matted Josh's hair as he sat slumped over the controls. Fire licked along the walls of the cockpit. Flames danced around Josh, biting at his clothes. Brady yelled again and tried to push past them. But fire shot upward, surrounding Josh, consuming him. Brady could smell the burning metal, the blood…
He jerked awake, sweat soaking his hair and face, his body trembling. He stared at the empty room, the tangled sheets, the darkness, and dropped his face in his hands, silently screaming with rage. Why couldn't he have saved Josh?
Several minutes later, he crawled from bed, yanked on running shorts and a T-shirt and headed outside. He couldn't jog yet, but walking would be good for him. He had to think, to escape the demons.
Dawn crept around him as he trekked into the small sleepy town. Birds chirped, the smell of hot doughnuts and pastries wafted from the local bakery, a newspaper boy riding a bike tossed the morning edition on the dry front lawns. The sun shone brightly, but Brady felt dismal. T
hen he saw the rec center.
Was Alison inside, swimming laps as she used to early in the morning at the high school or had time changed her routine?
Telling himself he would only check out the weight room and get a drink of water, he pushed open the door. A full weight room sat to the left, another room with modern exercise equipment to the right. Signs to the locker rooms, a sauna, exercise classes, baby-sitting services and the swimming pool were posted in clear view. Unable to stop himself, he headed toward the pool.
Alison must have just arrived.
He stood in the shadows of the doorway, watching greedily as she tossed her gym bag on the floor, stripped off her T-shirt and shorts and began a series of stretching exercises. She wore a simple, one-piece navy suit that was split high on her thighs, showcasing those killer long legs. She was tanned and lean and more curvy than he remembered. Her breasts strained against the thin fabric of the suit as she raised her arms and stretched them above her head, and he swallowed, his pulse accelerating at the image.
Sweeping her long hair into a ponytail, she secured it with a rubber band, then executed a graceful dive into the water. The pool seemed to embrace her as she glided along, her long arms pulling her as if she put very little effort into the motions. But he knew she did. Her morning swims were a stress release, she'd told him, a time to think, to energize herself for the day. To burn calories so she could indulge in her favorite foods; she had a sweet tooth, a penchant for ice cream.
Funny how he hadn't forgotten the little things about her.
After several freestyle laps, she moved into a more serious workout, switching to the breaststroke, her specialty. The one she'd won the county championship with in high school. The water rippled around her in small waves, the outline of her body clear and perfect in the water. Brady felt himself growing aroused, not just by her beauty, but the calm confidence with which she executed the strokes.
Then suddenly she stopped. Turned over to her back. Gazed across the empty pool area and saw him in the doorway.
