Three Brides, No Groom

by Debbie Macomber

  “Sure I did!” she shouted. “First of all I saved your precious Harley from being impounded. Then I made a raging idiot of myself in the courthouse, demanding to see a judge who’s spent the past fifty years pushing up marigolds.” She pointed at the building, in case he didn’t appreciate her sacrifice, which clearly he didn’t. “Then I found you the best attorney in three counties to get your sorry butt out of jail. And that’s just for starters.”

  He tried to speak, but she wouldn’t let him.

  “Tell me, Josh, what have I gotten in exchange?”

  “You shouldn’t have done it.”

  “What? Ride your precious bike?”

  “No, gotten involved.”

  “You honestly think I should have left you there?” He was being ridiculous.

  He didn’t hesitate. “Yeah, that’s what I think. I told you before, and I meant it.”

  “I heard you the first time—I’m not your type.” He was purposely picking a fight with her, and she couldn’t understand it. Minutes earlier they’d been joking and having fun. He’d hugged her as if she held the key to his sanity.

  “The last thing I need is some society girl fawning all over me,” he grumbled.

  His words stung. “OK,” she said. “If that’s the way you feel, then I think it would be best if we each went our separate ways. I’ll find my own way home from here.” She whirled around and started walking.

  She was half a block away when he called after her, “I promised I’d get you to San Francisco, and I don’t make promises lightly.”

  Nonchalantly turning around, she waved an imaginary magic wand. “I hereby absolve you of your promise. You’re free to go.”

  “I won’t chase after you, Gretchen.” His eyes were hard, his jaw tight and stubborn, and she couldn’t doubt he meant what he said.

  “I wouldn’t want you to.” With her back to him once again, she continued walking as if she were strolling through a meadow filled with wildflowers and hadn’t a care in the world. Her pride got her as far as the city park, all of five blocks from the courthouse. By that time the sick feeling in the pit of her stomach had overtaken her. The knot in her throat had grown so tight it was all she could do to keep from weeping.

  She found a picnic table and sat on the top with her feet resting on the bench. She reviewed her options. Normally, in volatile situations she was the one with a cool head. Her ability to remain calm in difficult situations had been one of her strengths as student-body president. This simply wasn’t like her.

  She drew in a ragged breath and attempted to clear her mind. With her cell in her purse back on the Harley, a pay phone near the refreshment stand in the center of the park appeared to be her only option. Her parents were due back in San Francisco that day, though she didn’t know what time their flight arrived. If she called them collect, they could wire her the funds to see her home. But worrying them was the last thing she wanted to do. The minute they learned of her plight, her mother was sure to panic, and her father wouldn’t be much better.

  Three days after her college graduation and she was on the street, no better off than a bag lady. No, worse than a bag lady. Everything she’d brought with her was packed on Josh’s Harley. She didn’t even have her identification with her.

  She covered her face with both hands, questioning how she could have done anything as stupid as walk away from her purse, all her funds and clothes, and any chance she had of helping herself.

  Janet Mercer would help her, Gretchen realized, but she would feel foolish asking, after rushing in and extolling Josh’s virtues to the attorney earlier. Well, she had no one to blame but herself. She’d gotten herself into this ridiculous mess, and by heaven, she would get herself out—one way or another.

  The thought had no more filtered through her mind when she heard the distinctive sound of a motorcycle. Her heart reacted with a wild surge of hope, but that quickly died. Josh had made a point of telling her that he wouldn’t chase after her, and she didn’t doubt for an instant that he’d meant it.

  Nevertheless, it was Josh who slowly cruised past the park, his eyes searching the grounds. The temptation to raise her arm and wave him over was strong, but pride dictated that she do nothing. If he was really searching for her, he would see her. Still, she had to practically sit on her hands to keep from flagging him down.

  Josh saw her, Gretchen was certain, and she tilted her head away, hoping to give the impression of royalty assessing her surroundings. But he didn’t stop. Instead, he drove on past.

  Perhaps he was expecting her to come rushing after him and beg him to take her home. Squeezing her eyes closed, she swallowed her disappointment. Josh Morrow’s pride was legendary; he’d stood up to Dean Williams and hadn’t flinched. He would have no problem walking away from her.

  Just when she was ready to swallow her dignity and go to Janet for help, she heard the motorcycle a second time. Her heart raced as she watched Josh approach. Straightening her spine, she sat up, refusing to allow him to see how distressed she actually was.

  He pulled into an empty parking slot at the tree-lined curb and turned off the engine. He took his own sweet time removing his helmet and climbing off the bike. Fascinated, she watched how every movement he made seemed to be in slow motion. Not until he opened a saddlebag did she realize the reason he’d come back. At least he had the decency to return her belongings.

  He approached her with all the enthusiasm of a man walking toward the electric chair. He could have been a robot for all the emotion he expressed. His gaze was as hard and unreadable as when she’d left him in front of the courthouse. Wordlessly, he set the tote bag on the picnic table beside her.

  “Thank you,” she mumbled. She bit her lower lip to keep from saying more.

  “It was the electrical connector,” Josh told her. “It’d vibrated loose.”

  She wanted to ask him if she’d somehow been responsible for that, but resisted. Most likely he would be quick to blame her if she was and reluctant to admit otherwise if not. His hesitation told her everything she wanted to know.

  The words hung between them like a thick London fog.

  He glanced over his shoulder at the Harley, as if eager to depart. Then he studied her for a moment. Was he assessing the damage his carelessly flung accusations had done? At last he said, “I meant what I said. I won’t beg you to come with me.”

  “I know.”

  He cracked a smile, not of amusement, but tempered with chagrin. “You can be stubborn.”

  He hadn’t seen the half of it.

  He continued to study her; then his eyes softened. “Goodbye, Gretchen.”

  He started back to his Harley, and she wound the straps of the tote bag around her hand. “Josh!” she cried, leaping off the table.

  He turned back to face her.

  She wasn’t sure what she wanted to say. Even if she had known, she wasn’t sure she could have squeezed the words past the thickness in her throat. Earlier he’d clung to her, and now he was walking away from her and showing no regret. Worse, she was letting him.

  “Yes?” he said.

  She bit her lip and shook her head. “Nothing.”

  His shoulders momentarily stiffened and then just as quickly sagged in defeat. “Gretchen, listen—”

  “I’m not a society girl.” Of all the ridiculous things he’d said to her, that one hurt the most. She shook her head and then said what was on her mind. “Why do you want to argue with me? Do I scare you that much?” Her gaze didn’t budge from his. They’d come this far, and she wasn’t about to lose him now. Her heartbeat felt like a crash of cymbals inside her chest. She read the confusion in his eyes, the restraint.

  “Yeah, I guess you do,” he admitted reluctantly. Then he held out his hand to her. “Come on, it’s time we got back on the road.”

  “You’re sure you want my company?”

  He stepped forward and tenderly cupped her cheek. When he spoke again, his voice was low and gravelly. “Yeah, I’m su
re.”

  She rewarded his honesty with a fierce hug. She was giddy with happiness.

  When she climbed onto the Harley behind him and wrapped her arms around his middle, he placed his palm over her fingers and squeezed them.

  When he turned the key in the ignition, the bike quickly roared to life.

  As they pulled back onto the highway, she tried to analyze what had just happened.

  With the wind pummeling her from all sides, and the sun beating down on her head, she kept her eyes trained on the passing scenery and her thoughts focused on the events of the past several days. Josh cared about her. He didn’t like it, but he cared. She cared about him, too. So much that it sometimes hurt. After all, she’d cared about Roger, too.

  It troubled her that she hadn’t recognized the kind of man Roger was sooner. The signs had been there. His lack of attention. His unexplained absences. The careless, almost lackadaisical attitude toward their meeting times. His frequent excuses.

  She’d been blind to it all. Often she’d even been grateful when he arrived late, because she herself had been so busy. Her duties on the student council had demanded a great deal of time and effort, never mind her studies.

  Then there was the matter of their parents. Roger’s mother, in particular. Stella Lockheart had done everything she could to encourage the romance, done everything she could to make matters easy for the two of them. Gretchen’s parents had met Roger’s, and the two couples had gotten along famously.

  Another thing, Gretchen realized with new insight, was her complete unwillingness to become physically involved with Roger before they’d spoken their vows. While she believed strongly in the importance of waiting until after the wedding, it shouldn’t have been that easy. They were two healthy young adults who were supposed to have been deeply in love.

  If she’d been engaged to Josh, the physical temptations would have been far more difficult to withstand. She sighed at the thought.

  Josh slowed the Harley, and she realized they were stopping at the border between Oregon and California. The uniformed officer at the checkpoint asked them a few simple questions about transporting fruit before waving them through.

  California. She smiled, knowing she was close to home. But she felt sad, too, because her wild adventure with Josh would soon be over.

  At six they stopped for dinner, splurging on seafood at a casual restaurant overlooking the Pacific. Although the view was breathtaking, Gretchen found her attention focused on Josh. She saw him in a fresh light. Not as the rebellious bad boy who went out of his way to challenge authority, but as a man who welcomed the chance to prove himself. A man filled with potential and intelligence, fighting his past, struggling to discover who he was and forge a promising future.

  “Have you decided what you’d like to order?” he asked as he set aside the menu.

  “Yes.” She smiled at him.

  The waitress appeared, and Josh ordered the blackened salmon while she opted for crab Louie. Neither of them seemed to have much to say, but she was deeply aware of how involved with him she already felt.

  He held her hand, lacing their fingers together in the middle of the table, until their dinners arrived. Although it had been hours since lunch, neither of them was particularly hungry. Gretchen managed to finish the crab and the hard-boiled egg, but the lettuce and olives remained untouched.

  “Too bad they don’t need a dishwasher,” she said, reminding him of yesterday morning in Cannon Beach.

  He grinned. “Or a waitress.”

  “Oh, I think they’d be grateful I’m not waiting tables.”

  Their eyes met as they smiled.

  “I suppose we should get back on the road,” he said.

  She wished they could have lingered but knew it was best they press on. Unless they had to stop for gas, their next stop would be San Francisco and her family home. She nearly laughed aloud at the thought of introducing Josh to her family. Her parents wouldn’t know what to think when they met him, with his Harley and that chip on his shoulder. The last time she’d talked to her parents, she’d still been engaged to Roger.

  When at last they rolled into the City by the Bay, it was after ten o’clock. Night had settled long ago, and the stars twinkled like fairy dust against the black velvet sky. It took another forty-five minutes to reach Daley City and her family home. As he parked the Harley by the curb, she removed her helmet and glanced toward the wide front porch of the three-story structure. Her parents had had the turn-of-the-century house extensively remodeled several years back by one of the city’s most renowned architects. The renovation had enhanced the beauty, grace and style of a bygone era.

  “Nice place,” Josh said.

  “I’ve always loved it.”

  “How long have you lived here?” He glanced around the upscale neighborhood.

  “How long?” she asked, surprised by his question. “All my life.”

  He glanced at her and announced, in an aloof tone, “In my entire life, I’ve never lived anywhere longer than twelve months. I wouldn’t know what to call home.”

  “It’s where your heart is, Josh,” she told him, repeating the old adage.

  He dismounted and opened one saddlebag, then handed her the tote bag. It took her a moment to realize he had no intention of going inside with her and meeting her parents.

  “Josh, what are you doing?” she asked. “You have to come in!”

  He shook his head. “I don’t think that’s such a good idea.”

  “But my parents are going to want to thank you for helping me.” She touched his arm. “I insist.”

  “Your parents will take one look at me and call the cops. And I’ve had all I can handle with law enforcement for one day.”

  “Don’t be ridiculous. Mom will want you to spend the night. You can have your choice of bedrooms.”

  “Yeah, right, Gretchen. You don’t seriously believe your family’s going to throw open their arms and welcome me, do you? That’ll be the day.”

  “Would you stop? You’re going to meet my parents, and that’s all there is to it.”

  Any further argument he might have offered was cut short when the front door swung open and her father appeared on the front porch.

  “Daddy!” Gretchen cried, and raced toward him.

  Her mother wasn’t far behind.

  “Gretchen Marie, where in the love of heaven have you been?” Her mother all but broke into sobs of relief. Her recovery was quick, however, when she got close enough to get a good look at Gretchen. She gasped and covered her mouth. “Oh, my, your beautiful hair. What have you done to it?”

  Gretchen had more things to concern herself with than her hair. She broke out of her parents’ embrace and raced back out to the curb to grab Josh’s hand. She hauled him up to the front door. “Mom and Dad, this is Josh Morrow.”

  “Josh.” Her father hesitated and then extended his hand. The two men shook.

  “Mrs. Wise,” Josh said, nodding stiffly to her mother. He stepped back a pace, indicating his desire to leave.

  “I think it might be best if we talked inside, don’t you, Mom? Dad?” Gretchen said.

  “Of course,” her father replied, eyeing Josh. “There appear to be a number of questions that need to be answered, and I don’t think the front steps are the place to do it.”

  Josh didn’t show any enthusiasm for going inside, but he complied.

  Gretchen watched his face when he walked through the front door and was greeted by polished woodwork created by some of the finest craftsmen at the turn of the century. The oak walls were adorned with family portraits and valuable artwork her mother had collected from around the globe. The stairway curved gracefully up to the second floor.

  “Perhaps we’d best talk in the kitchen,” Joan Wise said, leading the way through the oak archway. “I’ll put on a pot of coffee and we can discuss this like four reasonable adults.”

  “Mother?” Gretchen asked, wondering what had prompted such a strange statement.<
br />
  “You’ve given your mother and me quite a scare, young lady,” her father said sternly.

  Instinctively Gretchen moved closer to Josh—not because she feared her parents’ wrath, but because it appeared they intended to heap blame on his shoulders. She wouldn’t allow it.

  Before she could respond, Josh said, “Mr. and Mrs. Wise, Gretchen has done nothing wrong.”

  “We’d like to hear what she has to say for herself before we make any judgments.” Her father, the attorney, was at his legal best.

  “Who have you been talking to?” Gretchen demanded while her mother fussed with the coffeepot, spilling grounds across the counter because her hand was shaking so badly. Something was very wrong.

  The four sat at the round table in an alcove off the kitchen. Gretchen reached for Josh’s hand, making sure her parents realized she was allied with him. She wished now that they’d stopped and freshened up before pressing on to her family home. The day on the road had been brutal, and they were both badly in need of a shower and rest.

  “Stella Lockheart phoned….”

  Ah. Roger’s mother. “I can just imagine what she had to say,” Gretchen said indignantly.

  “Only the truth, Gretchen,” her father said. “You ran off with another man.” His gaze rested pointedly on Josh.

  “Dad!”

  Josh said nothing, but a shutter seemed to fall over his eyes.

  “Stella said she felt Roger had no choice but to call off the wedding, and frankly, Gretchen, I couldn’t agree more,” her mother said, her voice quivering. “How could you have done that to such a fine young man? From what his mother said, he’s fit to be tied. Hasn’t eaten in days and blames himself.”

  As well he should!

  “His father told us he’s going to have to send Roger to a counselor.” This came from her father.

  How eager her parents seemed to blame her! She didn’t think she’d ever felt so disappointed.

  “Do you have anything to say for yourself?” her father demanded.