by Rita Herron
He froze. He'd never reach them in time. The roof of the cabin crashed in, wood hissed; the fire singed his arms as he reached through the broken window. The inside was ablaze, engulfed in fire. He couldn't save them…
He woke with a start and jerked upright, drenched in sweat, his heart pounding. Balling his hands into fists, he stood and paced across the room, opened the balcony doors and inhaled the balmy August air, trying to block out the images. Sweat poured off his face; his body was shaking, his pulse hammering. Gripping the door, he steadied himself, fighting off the images, the horrible cries, the fire and death. Across the street, a light still burned in the upper bedroom of Alison's apartment. He ached for her, wanted her to hold him and make all the nightmares disappear.
But he couldn't ask that of her. She'd already given him so much. But she wanted, she expected him to resume flying. And he had tried this morning.
But he didn't have it in him. And he wouldn't let her settle for less than she deserved.
Exhausted, he stumbled toward the corner desk, pulled out a piece of paper and a pen and began to write.
Dear Alison,
Next to watching Josh die, writing you tonight is the hardest thing I've ever done. Leaving you next week will even be harder. But I have to go after Vivi's wedding. I have another month of my enlistment time left, and will be pulling desk duty until my evaluation is complete. I'm not sure what I'll do then, but I know now I won't be able to fly again, not in the Air Force, not here in Sugar Hill.
Yes, if you're wondering, I did try. I went out to the airport and rode up with George Frost, but I kept seeing the crash and Josh's face. The Air Force doctor said I had post-traumatic stress syndrome. I guess he was right. But it means I'm pretty useless in a plane or an emergency. I hope Hannah finds someone qualified to fly the medical flight service chopper, but it can't be me. I still want to use my skills somehow. I told Mom I'm not going to run the print shop. I may reenlist and try desk duty or teach some classes.
All I know is that we can't be together. You are the most wonderful woman I've ever known, but I can't ask you to settle for a man who's not whole. Alison, please know I've loved you every minute of my life and will always treasure the time we were together. Especially last night. Making love to you again was something I've fantasized about for years, and I'll keep that memory with me forever.
When I leave, I'll dream of you in my bed and in my arms, but always the way it used to be between us. That's the way I want you to remember me, too – the way I used to be, strong and tough, a man of adventure. Your high school football star, your Air Force pilot, your hero.
Love always,
your once-husband, Brady
* * *
Chapter 17
« ^ »
Alison breezed across the pool, grateful for the calming lull of the water. Although she'd fallen asleep sated and euphoric, more optimistic than she had been since Brady returned, she'd woken up at dawn with a bad premonition.
Switching into the breaststroke, she inhaled, pushed her feet into the stroke and settled into a comfortable pace. Suddenly she sensed that Brady was watching.
Surely after last night he didn't intend to linger in the shadows.
Maybe he wanted a repeat of yesterday.
She crossed the pool twice more, then turned on her back, swam to the side and arched her arms over the edge of the pool, searching for him.
He stepped from the doorway, his masculine presence almost overpowering. He was wearing a blue T-shirt that stretched across his muscular chest like a glove, and black running shorts that accentuated his height. Dark hair covered his arms and legs, the jagged scar running from his calf around his battered knee up into his shorts.
Even with perspiration dotting his forehead and a frown on his face, he was the most handsome man she'd ever seen. And he was her husband. At least for two more days.
"Why don't you get in and cool off, sexy?"
"I can't." He moved to the edge of the pool, knelt and looked into her eyes. A mixture of sadness and hunger darkened his expression, and fear slammed into her stomach so hard she clutched her abdomen.
"Why are you looking at me like that, Brady?"
"I…" He paused and pulled an envelope from his pocket, his voice gruff. "I wrote you a letter."
Hope skittered through her. They had always communicated so well on paper.
But hope died when he placed the envelope on the cold tile beside the pool, gave her one last hungry look, then turned and walked away. Her hands trembled as she climbed from the water, wrapped a towel around herself and sat on one of the lounge chairs to read it.
Seconds later, the words blurred as tears ran down her face, mingling with the pool water. Damn Brady! In spite of their marriage, the priceless moments they'd shared the night before, in spite of their talk and her promise not to give up on him, he had just written her a goodbye letter.
"I'm sorry, Ali. I didn't mean to hurt you, but it has to be this way."
She'd thought he had left, but no, he'd stood in the background, watching her read his letter. He'd moved up behind her, so close she could feel the heat radiating from his body, could smell his intoxicating scent.
"Well, you did hurt me. Twice now." Suddenly tired and furious, she stood and swung around. "I don't understand, Brady. Why the invitation?"
His eyes narrowed. "What invitation?"
"Vivi showed it to me. The one printed with our names on it. I thought… I thought you wanted us to renew our vows at Vivica's wedding." The admission made her voice waver.
Brady looked stricken. He ran a hand through his hair, then scrubbed it over his face. "Jesus, Ali. That was a mistake. A misprint. I never meant for anyone to see it."
A mistake. He'd never meant for anyone to see it – meaning he had never planned on canceling the divorce and staying married to her, or renewing their vows. Pain so intense she thought she might collapse from it burned through her chest, all the way to her throat. She felt like the worst kind of fool.
Suddenly wanting to lash out at him for getting up her hopes, for coming back into her life and ripping out her heart again, she grabbed him by the arm and shoved him into the water.
* * *
Brady surfaced from the bottom of the pool, sputtering chlorinated water. He treaded at the deep end and watched Alison stalk from the room, muttering beneath her breath. Shaking water from his head, he contemplated going after her, but decided there was nothing else to say. He'd been honest with her – what else could he do? God, he hated to hurt her, could barely stand to see the pain in her eyes. But prolonging their time together, no matter how much he wanted to hold on to her, would only hurt her more.
He swam to the edge and climbed out, grimacing when the elderly aerobics class strolled in, wearing skirted bathing suits and putting on pink swim caps. A gray-haired woman in an orange suit elbowed her friend and pointed to him, starting a round of whispers and giggles. Apparently they'd witnessed the scene.
He threw up his hands, shrugged and tried to hold his head high as he left the room.
The rest of his day went downhill from there.
First Vivica made him promise to join her fiancé for a bachelor party that night. Then, during therapy, he told her about the letter, and he thought she was going to kill him.
"You gave her a kiss-off letter?" Vivica added an ankle weight to his leg, forcing him to work harder.
Brady glanced up from the exercise mat. Vivica was standing over him with a fierce scowl on her face. Making matters worse, his insides were shaking with the effort of the workout. "I wouldn't call it that."
"Why not? That's exactly what it was, wasn't it?"
Brady slowly lifted his leg, gritting his teeth. "I was simply being honest, Vivi."
She put pressure against his upper thigh, adding to the strain. "So you're going to let this divorce go through?"
"Yes."
Vivica released his leg and stepped back, exhaling with such an intensity sh
e sent her bangs flying upward. "You know, Brady, I think your leg wasn't the only thing hurt in that accident. I think you suffered brain damage."
Brady glared at her.
She tossed a towel at him, slapping him in the face with it. "Either that or you've turned into a coward."
* * *
"Hannah, thanks for helping me give this shower for Vivica," Alison exclaimed. "I can't believe Mimi drove up to see Grammy Rose when she's due in two weeks."
"Me, neither," Hannah said, stirring club soda into the fruit punch. "I begged her not to go, but you know how impulsive she is. She said she had to see Grammy before the baby came."
"She'd better not overdo it and go into labor. The day's going to be hard enough. I'm counting on her to cater Vivica's reception."
Hannah circled her arm around Alison's shoulders. "Are you okay, sis? You look a little—" she pulled back and studied Alison's face "—frazzled and upset."
Alison turned away and placed the paper products on the table, half smiling, half crying at the sight of the wedding bells on the plates. She'd been fighting tears all day. Ten minutes before her guests arrived wouldn't be the time to let them loose. "I'm fine, but you know it's always crazy right before a wedding. There's a million and one things to do."
Hannah set a tray of hors d'oeuvres on the lace tablecloth. "What's going on with you and Brady?"
Afraid her emotions would show, Alison refused to look at her sister. "Nothing. He's leaving after the wedding."
"Oh." Hannah's voice echoed with sympathy. "I'm sorry, Ali."
Alison shrugged. "It's okay, I just have to accept that he won't be a part of my life, ever."
"You want to talk about it?"
The doorbell rang and Alison shook her head. "Not right now. Maybe later."
Hannah nodded. "I've got all night, Ali. Jake had to go to Atlanta to testify in a homicide case he worked last year."
"Good, then you can spend the night." And I can cry on your shoulder when the party's over.
* * *
"This is great," Vivica's fiancé said as a scantily clad waitress delivered a pitcher of beer to the table.
Joe's friends, two yuppie-looking city slickers named Curt and Dave, and Thomas, Alison's boyfriend and Joe's best man, grabbed mugs. "Let's drink to our buddy, the first one to tie the noose around his neck," Curt said.
Joe laughed. "I can't believe I'm doing it myself."
Curt and Dave dragged fingers across their necks in a slashing gesture and roared with laughter.
Curt, a sales rep, whistled. "You won't find me getting the old ball and chain anytime soon."
"Me, neither." Dave, an architect who worked with Joe, pulled out a cigar and lit up.
"No way I'd give up nights like this," Curt said.
"Hey, who says you have to forfeit a little fun?" Dave elbowed Joe. "Right, bud?"
Joe shrugged good-naturedly, sipped his beer and laughed.
Brady frowned and raised his glass, feeling protective of his sister as Joe's gaze strayed to the semi-nude dancers twirling tassels and gyrating around metal poles in the center of the neon-lit stage.
"Now, take that one in the pink G-string," Dave said. "Don't think I've ever seen such a fine babe." Curt made a crude gesture with his hands.
Brady glowered and sank lower in his chair. Maybe he'd missed this stage of manhood or something, but nothing about the women appealed to him. Not their heavily made up faces, or their skimpy outfits or their big fake boobs.
He'd choose a night at home with a sexy woman who loved him anytime over some strange bimbo. He grimaced in disgust, his mind imagining such a night with Alison as his wife. Would he ever stop thinking about her?
"Hey, I'd rather have a nice woman waiting for me at home," Thomas said, mirroring Brady's thoughts.
Joe grinned. "Like Alison Hartwell, huh?"
Thomas nodded. "Yeah, man, thanks for hooking me up with her."
Brady crushed the napkin in his hand and saw red. Could he really give up Alison?
* * *
Alison smiled in spite of her misery. Vivica seemed to be having a good time and so did her guests.
"I love it!" Vivica held up a long black peignoir set. "You certainly know my tastes, Hannah."
"She knows what her own husband likes," Alison said.
Hannah blushed. "What did you expect from a newlywed – a toaster oven?"
The girls all laughed, and Alison realized how much Jake had loosened up her oldest sister. Hannah glowed with happiness.
Her cousin scooted over next to her. "Actually, I bought her the toaster oven," Rebecca whispered.
Alison chuckled. "She'll love it, Bec. Everyone needs a toaster oven."
Rebecca smiled and pushed her wire-rimmed glasses up her nose. "You're so nice, Alison."
Alison's heart squeezed for her shy cousin. Rebecca was beautiful and kindhearted, but she didn't seem to have a clue as to her feminine appeal. What had happened to make her cousin so lacking in confidence?
Vivica opened another gift. "Oh, Ali. The crystal frame I wanted for my wedding photo. It's perfect." Vivica pressed it to her chest, rose from the sofa and hugged her. "Thank you so much."
"I can't wait to see it on your mantel."
Vivica wiped a tear from her eye, then carefully rewrapped the delicate frame and reached for a gift wrapped in gold foil. Several of Vivica's co-workers at the hospital joined in oohing and aahing as she opened the remaining gifts.
"I love your shop, Alison," Rebecca said. "If I ever get married, I want you to help me plan my wedding."
"What do you mean, if? Of course you'll get married someday," Alison said. "You're beautiful and smart. You simply haven't found the right guy."
Rebecca blushed, letting her long blond hair spill over her shoulder. "I heard you and that doctor were going together. Are wedding bells going to be ringing for the two of you?"
"Not now, Rebecca. I need some time." Alison had just raised her punch cup for a sip, but paused.
"Really?" Her cousin's brown eyes widened beneath her glasses. "I thought … well, you know, that you two were an item."
"We've been dating," Alison hedged, "but I'm too busy at work to think about romance right now." Because I've been stubbornly and stupidly in love with my husband.
The doorbell rang, and Alison put her plate on the coffee table, wondering who it could be. She scooted between the women and hurried to answer it.
"We have a singing telegram for a Miss Vivica Broussard."
Alison gaped at the man in her doorway; he was over six feet tall and looked like a Viking, literally. He was dressed in a teeny gold costume and had long blond hair to his waist.
"Who sent you?"
The man raised a small piece of paper. "Mimi Broadhurst."
Alison laughed and ushered him in. "Hey, Vivica, I think you have another gift here."
Sixteen pairs of female eyes swung to the man, a mixture of reactions following: Laughter, shock, a few breathy sighs.
"This is your gift from Mimi," Alison said.
The man sauntered in, placed a portable CD player on the table, punched a button and began to dance.
Catcalls, whistles and laughter echoed around the room.
Alison stared at the man, thinking he was the most perfect specimen of human male flesh she had ever seen.
Unfortunately, he did nothing to stir her blood. In fact, she was more miserable than ever.
Because he wasn't Brady.
* * *
Brady was miserable.
By midnight, Curt and Dave were drunk, but much to Brady's relief, Joe seemed to be taking it slow.
Thomas remained sober, saying he was on call. Basically, the OB-GYN was responsible, mature and a genuinely likable guy. The sort of guy women liked and wanted to marry.
Brady hated his guts – because Thomas wanted Alison.
A sexy redhead tossed her twin tassels off the stage, a chorus of loud male sounds reverberating as some lucky guy
caught them. Brady looked away.
He'd seen a half-dozen women in various states of dress and undress tonight, had even noticed two women at a table across the way making eyes at him, but he couldn't care less.
The only woman he wanted to see naked was Alison.
And that wasn't going to happen because he had told her goodbye today. Tomorrow he'd see her at the rehearsal, the next day at the wedding. Then their divorce would be final and he'd go back in the service for his evaluation.
End of story.
"How about a lap dance?" Curt elbowed Joe.
Joe shook his head. "I don't think so, man."
"What's the matter, afraid Vivica will get upset?"
"You going to let her keep you on a leash?" Dave asked.
Joe's eyebrows shot up. "I … no."
"Cut the guy some slack," Thomas interjected. "The man has a great-looking woman he'd rather wait on, right?"
Joe laughed. "Yeah, right."
"Come on, only two more nights of freedom," Dave said, pulling out a wad of cash.
"I gotta go, guys." Brady stood. "It was a good time."
Joe stood and shook his hand. "Thanks for coming, man."
Brady met his gaze, a serious warning in his eyes. "Yeah, looking forward to having you in the family."
Joe nodded. "Thanks. Me, too."
Then Brady leaned closer, his voice gruff. "You'd better not hurt my sister, man, or you'll answer to me."
Joe stared him down and nodded. Brady saw Thomas watching him as he turned and walked away. For Vivica's sake, Brady prayed Joe behaved himself. At least one of the Broussards should end up happily married.
* * *
Chapter 18
« ^ »
"I cannot believe it's raining!" Vivica darted into Alison's shop, shaking her umbrella, scattering raindrops everywhere.
