Three Brides, No Groom

by Debbie Macomber

  Except Gretchen was beginning to doubt that there would be a wedding.

  She stood at the far end of the sweeping veranda of her sorority house, out of view of her friends. Most were excitedly loading up their cars with another year’s accumulation of treasures. She could hear their tearful farewells, their promises to keep in touch.

  Promises.

  She held her stomach and raised her chin in an effort to forestall the brewing emotion. Her long blond hair cascaded down the middle of her back. Roger loved her hair long, enjoyed playing with it, brushing it, burying his face in it.

  “Sweetpea?” The sound of Roger’s contrite voice came from behind her.

  She’d always hated his pet name for her, but no amount of protest could persuade him to come up with another.

  Standing directly behind her, he cupped her shoulders and nuzzled her neck. “Let’s talk about this, all right?”

  “Talk?” Gretchen asked with a short abrupt laugh. As far as she was concerned they had nothing to discuss.

  “You’ve got to know Didi doesn’t mean anything to me.” Now his hands were in her hair, lifting the thick tresses to his face. He wove his fingers into it and brushed his lips across her crown.

  Gretchen’s eyes slammed shut at the sharp pain.

  “It was stupid,” Roger continued. “I want to throw up every time I think about how incredibly stupid I was. My only excuse is that I was drunk.”

  “You cheated on me with another woman, and I’m supposed to forget it ever happened because you were drunk?”

  His hands returned to her shoulders and squeezed. “Didi’s always had the hots for me. You said so yourself, remember? I…I wasn’t thinking straight. I was with the guys, celebrating, drinking, and the next thing I knew, Didi was coming on to me. She wouldn’t take no for an answer. Ask anyone. She was all over me and…you know how those fraternity parties can get.”

  Gretchen’s stomach clenched. “Don’t tell me any more. I don’t want to hear it.”

  “But I have to tell you. I need to. This is going to stand between us unless you know it all. You’ve got to believe me, Gretchen, I’m as sick about what happened as you are.”

  She said nothing, too numb to argue.

  “Didi knows we’re engaged, but that didn’t stop her. I told her again and again that it was you I loved, but she wouldn’t listen. The next thing I knew she’d stuck her hands inside my clothes.”

  “In front of everyone?” Gretchen cried in disbelief.

  He hesitated, and when he spoke, his voice was barely audible. “We…we were in a closet.”

  “A closet?” Gretchen nearly choked on the word.

  “She was feeling me up, and, Sweetpea, I’m so very sorry, but I’m only human. I was…excited, and then she had her mouth on me and was saying things like she bet my uptown girl never did anything like this for me and—”

  “I don’t want to hear any more,” Gretchen said again, more forcefully this time.

  “But it’s true,” Roger whispered. “You insisted on waiting until we were married to make love, and I’ve respected your wishes. But I don’t think you appreciate what sexual frustration can do to a guy.”

  “In other words this is all my fault.”

  “No, no. If anyone’s to blame, it’s Didi. When I woke up this morning, I was sick to my stomach, knowing what I’d done. I couldn’t be sorrier. Say you’ll forgive me. I’m begging you, Sweetpea. We can’t let someone like Didi come between us. If you do something foolish, you’ll be doing exactly what she wants. The only reason she came on to me was to hurt you.”

  “And you let her.”

  He paused. “Let’s put this behind us, all right? Mom’s looking forward to you spending the next few days with her. All she can talk about is the wedding plans, and that’s exactly what you need to help take your mind off my unfortunate slip.”

  So that was how he thought of infidelity, as an unfortunate slip.

  “What do you say, Sweetpea?”

  She pressed her fingertips to her temple. “I need time to think.”

  “What’s there to think about? I told you everything. This isn’t easy for me, you know. I just bet Didi took delight in letting you know what happened. She’s just being nasty, looking to ruin both our lives. You’re not going to let her, are you?” The soft pleading quality was back, the desperation to make matters right, as if that were possible now.

  “What did you expect would happen when you went into a closet with Didi Wilson?” she demanded, whirling to face him.

  His bloodshot eyes revealed his shock at being confronted. “I…I was drunk.”

  “Not too drunk apparently.” If he expected her to sweep his indiscretion under the proverbial carpet, she couldn’t do it, wouldn’t do it. Not without giving the matter a great deal of thought.

  “The wedding’s less than a month away,” he protested.

  He didn’t need to tell her the date of her own wedding. “Are you saying it’s too late to change our plans?”

  “You wouldn’t! Baby, please, don’t do anything stupid.”

  “Like you did?”

  He let her words soak in before saying, “Two stupid acts don’t make a right.”

  It amazed Gretchen how desperately she wanted to forget what Didi had taken such pleasure in telling her. The other woman’s timing didn’t escape Gretchen’s notice, either. While she’d been escorting her parents around Seattle’s tourist attractions, her fiancé had been doing who knew what with another woman.

  As if that wasn’t bad enough, Didi had hit her with the ugly details shortly after the graduation ceremony. Instead of getting to enjoy the sense of exhilaration and accomplishment she’d felt on receiving her diploma, Gretchen had seen her world fall apart when Didi cornered her on the front steps of the sorority house shortly after her parents had left for Canada and delivered her news.

  “Mom’s waiting,” Roger pressed now, breaking into her thoughts.

  “Then she’ll just have to wait. I told you, I need time to sort everything out.” Gretchen knew that his mother was not the patient sort. Stella Lockheart was a forceful woman who generally got what she wanted. Both Roger and his father catered to her wishes rather than risk dealing with one of her explosive outbursts.

  Gretchen could tell by the way Roger’s breathing altered that he wasn’t pleased with her decision. He’d been calm and in control, at his persuasive best. Now he was impatient and frustrated. Fine, so be it. She wasn’t going to let him pressure her, nor would she be rushed because he was afraid of a confrontation with his mother. This was her life, and she was determined to take a long hard look before making a decision about the future.

  “OK, if that’s what you want,” Roger said shortly. “I’ll tell Mom to go on ahead without you.”

  She nodded.

  He lingered a moment longer, his gaze boring into hers. “There isn’t any reason to tell Mom about what happened, is there?”

  Gretchen almost felt sorry for him. “Why would I want to humiliate myself even further?” she asked.

  He was visibly relieved as he turned and hurried toward the parking lot. As Gretchen watched him go, the knot in the pit of her stomach tightened. Needing to do something, anything other than stand there on the veranda, she moved down the steps and began walking. She soon found herself by the fountain, and with a heavy heart, she lowered herself onto the concrete rim. The urge to bury her face in her hands and weep was nearly overwhelming, but she had too much pride to publicly display her pain.

  Most of the activity around the school had stopped. Graduation was over, and the majority of students had already left the campus. She was grateful for the quiet, a rarity at the university. She needed to mull over what she’d learned, to assimilate what Didi had told her, followed by Roger’s weak justifications.

  Every time she tried to make sense of the cold ugly facts of his infidelity, distance herself from them, she stumbled over the pain.

  Again and again, Rog
er had told her how much he loved her, how she would be the perfect wife for him. His insistence caused her to wonder if he was mouthing his mother’s sentiments, not his own. A man who truly loved her wouldn’t step into a closet with Didi Wilson. But at the same time, Roger was full of regret. Despite her own pain, she could sense his. He was genuinely sorry. She wanted, needed, to believe that.

  One thing he’d said rang true. Didi had never made a secret of how attractive she found Roger. Nor had she bothered to disguise her dislike for Gretchen. It was probably that dislike that had prompted Didi to confront her.

  Didi’s neck had been covered with hickeys so livid that no amount of makeup could fully hide them. She’d boldly walked up to Gretchen, looked her in the eyes, smiled and then casually asked her if she knew what Roger had been doing the night before. At Gretchen’s stunned silence, Didi had crudely asked Gretchen if she thought she was woman enough to satisfy Roger’s healthy sexual appetite. The question insinuated that she wasn’t and never would be.

  The roar of an engine shattered the peace. Gretchen glanced up to see Josh Morrow speed across the campus parking lot on his Harley, a plume of dark exhaust in his wake. He’d been cited by campus security a dozen times, she’d heard, for driving above the speed limit, but it hadn’t fazed him.

  Josh was a loner, a known troublemaker, a rebel. She’d spoken to him once months earlier, and Roger had been furious with her. In the weeks since, she’d avoided Josh, but that hadn’t stopped her from noticing him. He stood apart from everyone, watching, studying. The outsider, looking in. He hadn’t sought her out again, and she was grateful. She supposed it was natural to feel a certain attraction toward Josh. She suspected a lot of the women at Queen Anne did. Maybe it was the black leather and the motorcycle, the sense that the love of a good woman would tame him.

  Now her gaze must have lingered on him a second longer than was prudent, for he eased his huge bike to a stop, placed his feet on the road to maintain his balance and stared at her. After what seemed an eternity, he revved the engine, then roared over the cement curb and onto the narrow walkway, directly toward her.

  Gretchen stood, her heart in her throat. The last thing she wanted was company.

  He pulled to a stop right in front of her. Lifting the helmet from his head, he studied her for a moment and then asked with surprising gentleness, “Gretchen, what happened?”

  She stiffened, shocked that he had read her so easily. “Nothing.”

  His smile was decidedly off center. “You should never lie, not when you do such a poor job of it.”

  She lowered her gaze and rubbed her palms together. “It’s something I’d rather not discuss.”

  He stepped off the Harley and lowered the kickstand. “Fair enough.”

  His size was intimidating. He was at least six-two, maybe even six-three, almost dwarfing her five foot eight. She crossed her arms over her chest, wondering at his intentions. As if he didn’t have a care in the world, he leaned over the fountain, scooped up a handful of water and drenched his face.

  He glanced toward her and chuckled, the sound low and teasing. “Don’t worry, I won’t bite.”

  “I’m not worried,” she lied.

  His soft snicker told her she hadn’t convinced him. “I don’t sacrifice virgins, either.”

  “I suggest you don’t start now. I’d crawl off the altar.”

  He laughed, but this time the sound was rich and deep. Ignoring her, he turned his face toward the sky, and his features glistened as the water dripped from his face. “Where’s lover boy this afternoon?” he asked.

  His question caught her off guard. From his tone, it was clear that Josh knew about Roger and Didi. How many others did? Her face filled with a rush of hot embarrassed color.

  “Who told you?” she asked, her voice low and trembling despite her effort to remain cool and calm. Between Didi and Roger’s so-called friends, the news must be everywhere by now.

  “Is it important?” he asked. His words were soft, quiet, as if he feared saying them would increase her pain.

  “No, I guess it isn’t.” Some students thought of Gretchen as privileged. While it was true her family had considerable wealth, when serving as the student-body president she’d crossed swords with any number who willingly tossed her background in her face. Her hard work as a communicator and volunteer, and her fervor for honesty and justice, often won them over. Until recently she preferred to think of her friends as many and her enemies as few. Now she wasn’t so sure.

  Josh’s gaze turned narrow and assessing, which increased her embarrassment tenfold. She inhaled a quivering breath.

  “Roger’s a first-class fool,” Josh said at last. “He deserves to have his teeth kicked in.”

  While in theory she agreed with him—she wanted to see Roger suffer for what he’d done—her sensibilities didn’t lean toward violence. Roger had allowed the blame to ricochet from Didi to Gretchen and then back to Didi. Gretchen wanted to scream and demand that Roger accept responsibility for his own actions. To own up to what he’d done, instead of listing excuses meant to absolve him of any guilt.

  “Gretchen!”

  As if her thoughts had conjured him up, Roger was striding across the lawn toward the fountain. “What the hell are you doing here, Morrow?” he asked, arriving breathless, his chest heaving.

  When Josh didn’t immediately answer, Roger faced Gretchen. “Is he pestering you?”

  “Of course not,” she replied, angered by both the question and the insinuation.

  “I told you to stay away from Gretchen,” Roger snarled at Josh. As though she needed his protection, he reached out and grabbed hold of her arm.

  “I suggest you let go of her,” Josh said, his voice deceptively calm.

  Roger ignored him. “Come on, Gretchen, let’s get out of here.”

  She jerked her arm free of his grasp and met his look squarely. “I haven’t finished thinking about you and me yet.”

  Anger flared in Roger’s dark eyes. “What’s Morrow doing here?”

  “What do you care?” Josh asked, his words a challenge.

  Roger glared at Josh and seemed to be weighing the odds of engaging in a fistfight, then decided against it. Wisely, she thought.

  “Gretchen, I think you’d better come with me,” he said, calmer this time.

  “I’m not ready to leave yet.” She wasn’t looking to defy Roger, but she needed time to deal with a multitude of pressing questions. Decisions had to be made, the consequences of which she would have to live with for the rest of her life.

  Again Roger’s eyes flared with anger.

  “You heard the lady,” Josh inserted smoothly, with that cocky grin of his.

  Gretchen whirled on him. “I can do my own talking, thank you.”

  “Fine.” Josh raised his right hand in a mocking gesture of peace.

  Tight-lipped, Roger said, “Either you get out of here, Morrow, or I’m calling security. Your kind isn’t welcome around here. Why don’t you go visit your daddy in prison? Have a good look around, since that’s where you’re headed yourself.”

  Josh looked unconcerned, which only served to anger Roger more. But Gretchen noticed the vein in Josh’s temple throb and knew Roger’s words had affected him.

  “You should have been expelled long ago,” Roger added, then doubled up his fist and took a wild swing at Josh, who didn’t so much as blink when the punch went wide.

  “Maybe Dean Williams is looking for a valid excuse to be rid of me,” Josh suggested casually. “What he really needs is a charge that’ll stick. How about assault?” As he spoke, his fist shot out and exploded against Roger’s nose.

  Stunned, Roger stumbled backward. His hand flew to his face, and blood oozed between his fingers. “I’m bleeding!” he cried in horror. “Now you’ve done it, Morrow,” he threatened. “You’re finished at this school. I’ll make sure of that.”

  “I can’t tell you how worried I am.” Josh reached for his helmet and climbed a
board his motorcycle. He started the engine and then, as though in afterthought, he turned and looked at Gretchen. His eyes locked with hers as he slowly extended his arm to her.

  She hesitated, unsure what to do.

  “Go with him and the engagement is off,” Roger threatened.

  It was all the incentive she needed. She slipped the diamond ring off her finger and tossed it to Roger, then leaped onto the motorcycle behind Josh.

  He revved the engine, spewing exhaust at Roger, then raced off in the direction of the sun.

  Chapter 2

  Gretchen had never ridden on a motorcycle before. She wrapped her arms tightly around Josh’s waist as they headed down the narrow asphalt pathway. When he changed gears, she could hear Roger shouting curses after them. Closing her eyes, she savored the look of shock and dismay on Roger’s face when she’d returned his ring and leaped onto the back of the Harley with Josh. In retrospect, her actions had been foolhardy, but also purely instinctual. As the wind whipped her hair around her face, she smiled. This one small act of rebellion had cheered her considerably.

  They sped across the school parking lot toward the busy four-lane street that bordered the university. Gretchen didn’t have a clue where Josh was taking her, and at the moment she didn’t care. She angled her face into the wind, letting it dry the tears from her cheeks. For the first time since Didi had confronted her, the oppressive tightness surrounding her heart lessened.

  Josh eased to a stop in a restaurant parking lot several blocks from the university. He twisted in the seat to look at her, keeping the huge bike balanced between his legs.

  “Where do you want me to take you?” he asked.

  “Where?” she repeated, not knowing how to answer him. It would have suited her to ride off into the sunset and forget everything. Forget Didi. Forget Roger and the ugly scene by the fountain. Forget that she had less than fifty dollars cash on her and nowhere to go.