The days didn’t fly by, as Adel and Buddy had predicted, but they didn’t lag, either. The trio managed to fill the days and evenings until it was time to board the plane for Florida.
Lucy cried as she hugged and squeezed her kids. Even Angie and Toby had wet eyes. Not Denny, who viewed his responsibility as the ultimate challenge.
“Just keep Froot Loops in your pants pockets, catnip in a bag around your neck, sunflower seeds in your hip pocket, and jerky in your breast pocket, and you’ll be okay,” Lucy instructed. “They like to ride in the wagon at eleven in the morning and at four in the afternoon. They know when it’s time to go to bed, so make sure you go at the same time every night, which is eleven o’clock. They like to watch the news, so be sure to put that on while you’re getting ready for bed. Be sure to brush Bizzy’s teeth.”
“Yes, ma’am,” Denny said, his freckles glowing like neon signs on his cheeks. He winked at his brother. There was no doubt in his mind that he could and would control the animals left in his charge.
Wrong.
Five hours later, Luke Kingston was swinging his almost bride high in the air. He kissed her soundly, so soundly, Lucy had to squeal for mercy.
“What’s in that big package?” Luke asked Toby as they waited for their luggage at the carousel.
“Something Buddy ordered while he was in Jersey, and it wasn’t ready when he left. They delivered it yesterday, so I thought I might as well just bring it with us instead of mailing it,” Toby lied with a straight face.
“How are the kids?”
“Well . . . according to this text that just came through from my brother, Izzy is chewing what’s left of his corner of the couch, and it’s now sagging on one corner. There’s nothing left to shred on Bizzy’s corner. Lizzy won’t come down off the refrigerator, and Dizzie laid an egg in the middle of the kitchen floor. No one knows what to do about the egg. They’re circling it and sniffing it. Denny said he is videoing it and will upload it shortly. Other than that, things are fine. Oh, it’s raining, so the kids won’t go out. He’s pulling them around the house in the wagon. Well, he was until Dizzie laid her egg. Now they’re all just watching it.”
Lucy just smiled.
The clubhouse was packed. It was beautiful, to be sure, with dozens of white roses and white satin ribbon everywhere. Even the runner was white satin. It was easy to see that the residents of Palm Royal had done their best to make this a memorable wedding. Their first.
Luke Sr. and Buddy stood on each side of Angie for the walk down the satin runner. Lucy wanted both of them to “give her away.”
Angie, resplendent in a mint-green gown that swirled and twirled, was the matron of honor, and Toby was the best man. Luke’s two best friends, Dave and Jack, were his ushers. Emily, Luke’s niece, was the flower girl, and his nephew, Benjy, was the ring bearer.
The clubhouse was filled with guests, possibly a hundred in total.
Luke, his eyes glazed, felt weak in the knees when he saw his beloved walking toward him.
“Easy, big guy,” Toby said, clutching at Luke’s arm to steady him.
“My God, she’s beautiful!” Luke whispered.
“That she is. C’mon now, steady as she goes. You can do this.”
Luke squared his shoulders. Damn straight I can do this. A smile spread across his face as Lucy got closer and closer. Her smile rivaled the sun.
And then it was over, and the minister said, “You may now kiss the bride!” And Luke did.
Congratulations rang through the clubhouse as Luke and Lucy made their way among the guests. When they’d circled the entire room, Lucy felt a tug on her arm. She looked over at Angie. “What?”
“Can you come with me for a few minutes? There’s someone who wants to congratulate you.”
“Did I miss someone?” Lucy asked anxiously.
“You did. He’s waiting. Oh, there he is!”
Lucy gasped when she saw the mane of wild white hair. “Mr. Metcalf! How nice of you to come to my wedding.”
“Thank you so much for inviting me.”
Lucy wasn’t aware that she had invited him, but she wisely kept silent.
“I wanted to be sure I was leaving you in good hands.”
“The best, Mr. Metcalf. The best. I didn’t think I’d ever see you again. How do you like retirement?”
“It’s wonderful.”
Lucy bit down on her lower lip. “Helene and Fritz Brighton are not my biological parents, are they?”
Julian Metcalf closed his eyes as he remembered something from Thoreau. What’s the point of having a conscience if you don’t listen to it? Or something along those lines. “No, they are not your parents. How did you figure it out?”
“When you left us back in Freehold, I just had a feeling something still wasn’t right, so I took those two baby teeth and had them do a DNA test. I think I knew even before the results came back. I’m glad. Do you know who my real parents are?”
“Your mother’s name was Paula Kelly. She was one of Helene Brighton’s patients. She died giving birth to you. There’s no record anywhere of who your father was. The Brightons took you in, but they never legally adopted you.”
“Why didn’t you tell me that day in Freehold, Mr. Metcalf?”
“It wasn’t my place to tell you. Actually, I had been forbidden to tell you. One must obey the laws when one works in the service of the government. Please, don’t hold it against me. And please don’t dwell on it, either. You’re going to have a wonderful life now. Enjoy it. By the way, I brought you a wedding present. It took some doing, but I got it. I’m going to leave now unless you agree to let me have a dance with the bride.”
“I would love to dance with you, but I think I should tell you I’m not very good at it. More like I have two left feet.”
Metcalf laughed. “That’s about how I would sum up my dancing ability. You’re okay with what we just talked about, then?” he asked as he led Lucy onto the dance floor.
“I’m very okay with it, Mr. Metcalf. It was the not knowing that bothered me. I want to thank you again for coming. You must have come a long way.”
“Halfway around the world, to be accurate. I wanted to be sure you were going to be okay.”
“Are you sure now?”
“Yes. Ah, well, we managed not to embarrass ourselves,” Metcalf said as he led Lucy over to where her husband was waiting for her. Lucy noticed Luke was holding a small package with a silver ribbon on it. “Your wedding present. Have a good life, Mr. and Mrs. Kingston.”
Lucy leaned forward and kissed Julian Metcalf’s cheek. She watched as Luke shook his hand. And then he was gone.
“What do you think it is?” Lucy whispered. “I want to open it right now, but that’s not the right thing to do in front of all these people. Is it?”
“Who cares? Open it, Lucy.”
Lucy’s eyes filled with tears, which rolled down her cheeks. “It’s the picture Helene took of me with my first missing tooth and the picture of me on my first pony ride. It’s all I have of my childhood, that plus my baby tooth. He said . . . he said he had a hard time getting it. Oh, Luke, I don’t know what to say or think or do.”
“I think you should do what Mr. Metcalf told you to do. Be happy.”
“Okay. Okay, I’m happy.”
“Atta girl.”
Angie nudged Toby. “Tell me that isn’t a perfect ending.”
“As always, you’re right. You and I are going to be just as happy, right?”
“Yep. Forever and ever. C’mon, it’s time to dance with me.”
Three hours later, the wedding reception was over, and the bride was preparing to toss her bouquet. Of course, Angie caught it and whooped with pleasure.
Just as Luke and Lucy were preparing to leave the hall, Toby came up to them, choked with laughter as he held out his iPhone. Lucy looked down to see her kids clustered in a circle as they all contemplated Egg Number 2.
Tears rolled down her cheeks as Luke gathered her
up in his arms and raced out to the car. Their destination, his house, so they could get changed, trade presents, and start their honeymoon.
“You open yours first,” Lucy said as she pulled a shirt over her head.
“Oh, my God! This is so perfect, I can’t tell you. And I have just the place to hang it in my office. Thanks, Mrs. Kingston.”
“Your turn, Mr. Kingston.”
“Now, that’s a bit of a problem, Mrs. Kingston. My present isn’t the kind you can wrap up.”
“It isn’t?”
“No, it isn’t. My present to you is, I’m going to do my best to give you back your childhood. Or at least have you experience what you missed. We have a whole year to accomplish this, with visits home once a month to check on things. For starters, we’re off to Australia, because it’s winter there now. I’m going to take you sled riding. I’m going to teach you to ski and ice-skate. We’re going to roll in the snow and make a snowman. Then, when we’re tired, we’re going to sit in front of a fire and drink hot cocoa and eat gingerbread cookies. That’s what you do after you play in the snow.”
“Oh, Luke, really?”
“When we’re done with the snow, we’re going to Hawaii, where I’m going to teach you to swim, to water-ski, and to ride Jet Skis. We’re going to bask on the beach, picnic under palm trees, and eat pineapple till it comes out our ears.”
“Oh, Luke, really?”
“Then we’re going to head back east to a place I know in upstate New York, Virgil, where they have the best zip line in the world. We’re going to go up and down it until we’re dizzy. Then we’re going to wait as long as it takes for a windy day. Not just any windy day, but a perfect windy day, so we can go kite flying. We’re going to walk in the rain, stomp in the puddles, make mud pies, then roll in the mud.”
“Oh, Luke, really?”
“Then we’re going to head on home just as the leaves change. We’re going to rake them, find a way to burn them after we jump in them for hours. We’ll go to the Perkins farm and get as many pumpkins as we can carry and carve them and set them all over the place. We’re going to have a Halloween party and dress up and scare each other.”
“Oh, Luke, really?”
“And then we’re going to wait for the first snow on our own turf and trudge through it as we search for the biggest, the most fragrant Christmas tree on those fifty-five acres of yours. I’m going to chop it down, and the two of us are going to drag it home and set it up with all the ornaments I made my mom when I was a kid in school. My sister has them all, and she said she would give them back to me. And you know what else, Lucy? My sister said she’s sending me her tiara and her tutu so you can wear them when you go down the zip line for the first time.”
“Oh, Luke, really?” Lucy said, tears rolling down her cheeks.
“Yeah, really.”
If you enjoyed FORGET ME NOT, be sure not
to miss Fern Michaels’s new novel,
A FAMILY AFFAIR.
Read on for a special sneak preview.
A Kensington hardcover coming in May 2014!
The klieg lights seemed extra bright, way too hot.
Two minutes to go. Please, God, let me get off this stage in one piece. The headdress seemed heavier than usual. Eighty seconds. Kick high, twirl. Smile. Sixty seconds. Kick. Twirl. Smile. Show those teeth. Forget the sweat dripping into your eyes. You know the routine, you can do it blindfolded. I’m burning up. Thirty seconds. Hold it together. You can do this. Ten seconds. One last kick. Follow Connie, then you can collapse.
The music reached a tumultuous crescendo. And she was off the stage, the Vegas crowd enthusiastically shouting their approval of the chorus line’s performance. Her long legs were so wobbly, she could barely stand. Connie reached for her. “Trish, you okay? Your timing was off, but I don’t think anyone else noticed. God, girl, what’s wrong? Here, let me take your headdress. Trish, you’re burning up! Girls, come here, something’s wrong with Trish!”
The chorus line swarmed around Trish just as the floor gofer, a young guy named Ernie, tried to fight his way through the scantily clad women. He was waving a folded note at Trish and fought to be heard above the clamoring voices surrounding her.
“That guy who’s been here every night this week asked me to give you this.” He thrust out the hand holding the note. “It’s a note asking you to have a drink with him, and that’s a thousand-dollar bill folded inside it. A thousand-dollar bill! The guy is a prince. That means he’s royalty!” Ernie screamed, his freckles lighting up like mini-Christmas lights.
“Prince, king, who the hell cares? Get out of here, Ernie,” Connie shouted. “Can’t you see that something is wrong with Trish.”
Trish sucked in her breath as she felt a cool cloth being run over her face and neck. It felt wonderful. Because Trisha Holiday was a kind and caring person, she struggled to speak. “Give it back, Ernie, and tell him thank you but no thanks.”
“But it’s a thousand-dollar bill, Trish! Are you sure?”
“She’s sure; now get out of this room. We need to get changed,” someone shouted, menace ringing in her voice. Ernie ran for the door, his spiked hair moving in his own breeze. “I’m okay, girls. Just help me get out of this costume. Guess I got that flu bug that some of you had. Seriously, I’m okay. I’m going to go home to bed. I’ll drink lots of juice and take some aspirin. That’s what you all said you did.”
“You’re running a high fever and you’re flushed,” a girl shouted. Someone else held out an aspirin bottle. A third chorus girl handed Trish a glass of water. She gulped at the little white pills as she peeled off her heavy costume. Someone took it from her hands and hung it up alongside her headdress. She struggled to pull on an oversize sweatshirt above her head, but in the end she needed help. Sweatpants followed. She felt someone slipping her sneakers on her feet and another girl tied them. A puffy down jacket was placed around her shoulders. Her purse was thrust into her hands.
Time to go home to her cozy apartment. “Thanks, girls. I’m okay now. Tell Nathan I don’t think I’ll be at work tomorrow. God, he’s going to fire me! He gave me such a hard time when I asked for a week off to go home to help see my sister through her divorce. I need this job.”
“Don’t worry about it, Trish. We’ll threaten a walkout if he pulls something like that,” Connie said. Trish heard murmurs of agreement backing Connie up. They were a great bunch of girls, and she loved every one of them.
“I think you should get a room here at the casino,” Connie said. “Or I’ll drive you home.”
Trish shrugged into the down jacket. Somebody else pulled up the zipper. “Like I can afford to stay here! Get real, Connie! I can make it home on my own. I feel better now that I’m out of that heavy costume. Thanks for the offer, though. I’ll see you when I see you.”
Trish was out of the dressing room and walking on wobbly legs. She was burning up and chilly at the same time, and she wasn’t even outside yet. Thank God she had a nearby parking space. She crossed her fingers that her old Honda Civic would start up and not fail her. Then she crossed her fingers again that the heater would work. It was all she could do to pull open the heavy stage door, but she managed to do so by using both hands, using her shoulder to hold it in place. As she stepped outside, the door slammed shut as a blast of arctic air assaulted her.
Trish could see her car and the expanse of asphalt she had to traverse to get to it. She could do it. She was aware of a small group of people to her right. God, what if she got mugged. She almost laughed at the prospect. She had forty-six dollars in her purse and a single credit card that had nothing left on it. She stepped forward and felt the wind buffeting her as she struggled to get to her car.
She was less than two feet from her Honda when her knees buckled, and she collapsed to the ground. Fortunately, the thick puffy jacket helped to break her fall. She heard voices, felt herself being picked up, and heard someone say something in a language she didn’t understand.
Str
angely enough, she felt safe in the arms holding her. She was being carried. Somewhere? Hospital? Back to the casino? The conversation surrounding her sounded agitated by then. The people were arguing—she could tell that by the tone even though she could not understand the words they said. One voice, a male voice, was higher. It was a nice voice. A concerned voice. A voice of authority.
Trish struggled to open her eyes, but they felt like they had lead weights on them. She looked up into the handsomest face she’d ever seen in her life. “Please don’t hurt me,” she whispered. She wondered if the handsome man had heard what she had said. Or did she just think she had said them aloud?
“I would never hurt you, Trisha Holiday.”
Photo by M2IFOTO©2006
ABOUT THE AUTHOR
FERN MICHAELS is the USA Today and New York Times bestselling author of the Sisterhood and Godmothers series, The Blossom Sisters, Tuesday’s Child, Southern Comfort, Betrayal, Return to Sender, and dozens of other novels and novellas. There are over seventy million copies of her books in print. Fern Michaels has built and funded several large day-care centers in her hometown, and is a passionate animal lover who has outfitted police dogs across the country with special bulletproof vests. She shares her home in South Carolina with her four dogs and a resident ghost named Mary Margaret.
Visit her Web site at fernmichaels.com.
Blindsided
Fading into the background isn’t the Sisterhood way. Even after all the adventures they’ve shared, the courageous, close-knit heroines of Fern Michaels’s New York Times bestselling series are always ready to embrace another challenge . . .
All good things must come to an end. But Myra Rutledge isn’t ready to put the Sisterhood—the stalwart band of friends who’ve become legendary for meting out their own brand of justice—behind her just yet. Though she loves her beautiful home and her husband, Charles, Myra can’t deny that she’s restless. And as it turns out, she’s not the only one longing to dust off her gold shield and get back in action.
Forget Me Not Page 24
