Tucker's Bride

by Lois M. Richer

  Back then Ginny had read his thoughts as easily as he’d read hers. She always knew exactly when he was hurting, when to be there with a soft word, a prayer, a new insight.

  This trip down memory lane was futile. Those days were long gone. He’d tossed them away as if they meant nothing.

  Fool!

  Oh, how he wanted to resurrect them.

  Tucker kissed Mrs. Bains’s cheek and let her tease him about not eating properly. By the time he turned back, Ginny and Riley were across the room, strolling away from him and his problems.

  It was obvious her life was full and happy. She’d moved on. So why was he clinging to hope that a woman he’d promised to marry, then hadn’t even spoken to in seven long years, would help him?

  Somehow Ginny said all the right words, smiled, laughed, wished the blissful couple every happiness. Somehow she kept her back turned.

  Somehow she kept her eyes off Tucker Townsend.

  But inside, her heart cried out to God for answers.

  Why didn’t he look at her, really look at her, the way he had seven years ago? Why had God let Tucker Townsend come back if he was only going to ignore her?

  “Are you about ready to leave?”

  Riley’s hand touched hers, but there was no ripple of excitement there. Not like Tucker’s touch had once caused. Did that mean something, or was she just such a schoolgirl back then that everything Tucker had done seemed to spark excitement? Why did the past suddenly seem faded and worn?

  “Yes, I’m ready. It’s been a long day.”

  They left quietly through a side door, anxious not to disrupt those who stayed behind. The soft April air boasted just the slightest fragrance from newly budding flowers. Overhead the stars glimmered against a blue velvet sky.

  Spring. A time of new beginnings.

  Tucker was back.

  “It’s a beautiful night. I’ll walk you to your car.” Riley threaded her arm through his when Ginny wobbled on her high heels. “I could have picked you up, you know. You didn’t have to drive over.”

  Something funny in his voice snagged her attention. He’d sounded almost—proprietorial. Ginny frowned.

  “Riley, I always drive myself. You know that. Besides, I was on a consultation till six-thirty.”

  “And you’re probably too tired to walk anywhere now, aren’t you?”

  Her throbbing feet were caused by heels far too high to be worn for an entire day. But Ginny wasn’t going to admit that. Not yet. Besides, something told her Riley needed to talk. In the past few months, as they’d become better friends, she’d grown adept at hearing the signals in his voice that meant he finally wanted to speak of whatever was brewing behind his dark, thoughtful gaze.

  Ginny hugged her white angora cape closer. The night breeze kicked up a notch, penetrating her suit just enough to raise the hairs on her skin. She hoped Riley would hurry and say whatever was bothering him. She wanted to get away and think about tonight, about Tucker.

  How stupid was that?

  The town’s newly developed park lay just across the street. It was here Riley led her, down a path where big spruce boughs offered protection from the wind and seclusion from the prying eyes that always watched in Jubilee Junction.

  Ginny stared in pleased surprise when Riley eventually stopped beside a hearth of stones. In seconds he had a small fire crackling merrily in the little pit. A bench sat nearby, out of the smoke but still close enough to feel the heat of the coals. Ginny sank onto it with relief.

  “You had this all arranged.” She marveled at his quick thinking. “I walked here on my lunch hour, and this hearth wasn’t here.”

  He smiled.

  “I slipped out earlier, while you were serving coffee. I thought maybe we could talk for a minute.” Riley folded his lean body next to hers on the wrought-iron bench.

  “Of course we can talk. It was sweet of you to think of a fire. I haven’t been near a campfire since I took my church class camping last summer. And you know what a disaster that was!” She giggled at the memory. “I guess I’d forgotten how important it is for a teenager to be cool.”

  Cool, she remembered, had never mattered to Tucker. Seven years ago he hadn’t cared that her hair never obeyed, that she’d lost the canoe race for his team. He’d laughed and celebrated with her anyway. They’d been each other’s cheering section then, a mutual support pair.

  She got lost in the memories.

  “Ginny?”

  “Yes?” The note of urgency in Riley’s voice snagged her attention. Ginny berated her selfishness. Always Tucker. When would she grow up? “I’m sorry, Riley. Go ahead. I’m listening.”

  “Will you please do me the honor of becoming Mrs. Riley Cantrel?”

  Ginny stared at him, utter shock dropping her jaw to her chest. Riley knelt before her, his hat on the ground. His fingers closed around hers.

  “Uh, Riley, I—” She felt his fingers tighten.

  “Just say yes. We’d have a good life on the ranch, Ginny. There’s lots of room for kids to run and play, plenty of animals for pets. The house is just waiting for your special touch.”

  “But—but—” she sputtered, searching desperately for the right words and finding none. Where had this come from? Why hadn’t she seen what he’d obviously been leading up to?

  “I know I’m no Prince Charming. I live on a ranch with horses. I don’t know all the fancy phrases women like to hear. I haven’t traveled a lot or seen a whole bunch of places.”

  Like Tucker—was that what he meant? An idea glimmered at the back of Ginny’s mind, but she didn’t have time to pursue it. She lifted a hand, touched his cheek.

  “When you’re talking about marriage, I don’t think traveling is as important as a lot of other things, Riley,” she whispered, studying his handsome face. “I think love is more important.”

  “I can learn to love you, Ginny. It’s just a matter of time. I know you’ve got your father’s health and your own business to consider. I wouldn’t dream of interfering in that. You’re becoming very successful, and I’m glad for you.”

  Her father. Ginny could see his face, imagine the satisfaction he’d show at the news of her engagement. It wasn’t fair that a man who loved children as much as her dad did had only been given one. Grandchildren would put the glint in Dad’s eyes, something his recurring health problems had dimmed almost to nonexistence.

  But it isn’t good enough! It isn’t the right reason to marry Riley. The plan was for you and Tucker to be together.

  But was that still God’s plan?

  Lately God’s will for her life hadn’t been exactly clear to Ginny. She’d waited so long for answers—answers to her father’s dwindling health, answers that would provide an opportunity to take the last two courses and finish her interior design degree, answers that would explain Tucker’s long absence.

  Of course, Dad’s health was the most pressing. She could wait a little longer for Tucker and her degree, but her father needed a diagnosis. She’d watched and tried to carry the load, but still he slipped steadily downhill.

  Why didn’t God answer her anymore?

  “So will you…marry me?”

  Ginny drew her mind to the present, to Riley. She did care for him, but as a friend. Nothing more. Where had this sudden romantic impulse come from? And what could she say that wouldn’t hurt him or embarrass him?

  Ginny swallowed, praying for help as she tried to frame a response.

  “I’m very honored you would choose me, Riley,” she murmured at last, squeezing his hand. “But this is so sudden. I’ve always thought of us as friends. I never thought—that is, I never dreamed—” She sucked in a breath. “I hope that you’ll understand when I say I have to think about it.”

  “As long as you don’t say no, I’ll be happy.” He drew her up to stand beside him. His mouth brushed across her cheek in a gentle brotherly caress. “We could have a good future, Ginny. I’ll always stick by you, no matter what. You can count on me.”

/>   Stick by her? What did he mean, no matter what?

  “It’s kind of a bad time for me just now, Riley,” she murmured, trying to prepare him. “There’s Dad and the store to think about. Dad’s not getting any better. And then there’s Tucker.”

  “Yeah. Tucker.” Riley’s eyes narrowed, darkened. “I don’t think he’ll be hanging around for long, Ginny. He’s just back to show us all what a hotshot he’s become.”

  “You may be right, though I’m not so sure. But even if he is, we had a promise, Riley,” she reminded him softly. “I owe my first allegiance to Tucker.”

  “You don’t owe Tucker Townsend anything!”

  She’d never seen Riley so angry.

  “It’s been seven years, Ginny. Seven whole years! Has he written, even once? Did he phone or send a card on your birthday? At Christmas? Did he even know you were still here?”

  “No, but—”

  “And you think he’s going to abide by some silly teenage promise?” Riley’s voice softened. His hand rose to cup her cheek. “He won’t, Ginny. I’m sorry, but as soon as Tucker Townsend heals up, he’ll be off into the wild blue yonder building his image, and you’ll be left waiting. You don’t want that.”

  She couldn’t say anything. Not now. However Riley had come by his decision to propose, she owed him the dignity of a well-thought-out response, not a rush of words defending Tucker.

  “We could be happy, Ginny. I know we could. And neither of us would be alone.”

  The clock tower bonged ten strokes, snapping the spell that held her transfixed. She had to think this through. Better to take her time. Ginny eased herself out of his grip.

  “I promise you I will think about it, Riley. And I’ll let you know my decision as soon as I can. All right?”

  It was a long time before he answered. When he finally spoke, the fervor had died out of his eyes, leaving them bleak.

  “Yeah. Sure.” He bent to extinguish the fire without expression. “I knew it was a long shot, anyway.”

  No longer simply cool, the chilly breeze swept in tiny gusts, swirling around them just enough to remind them that winter wasn’t far gone. It penetrated the wool of her cape to chill her skin all over again. Ginny shivered.

  “I should have brought a blanket. Come on. Let’s go.”

  Assured the fire was completely out, Riley wrapped an arm around her shoulders and hugged her against the warmth of his body as they trudged quickly toward the church.

  Riley waited by her car until she’d unlocked it.

  “Thank you for thinking of the fire, Riley, and for the romantic proposal. I’m honored you would ask me to be your wife. I promise I’ll have an answer for you soon.” Ginny tilted forward on her spiky heels and pressed a quick kiss against his skin. She would have climbed into her car then, but his hand on her arm prevented that.

  Ginny glanced up. Her whole body froze as she followed Riley’s gaze across the street to the big man limping down the lane beside the older, shriveled figure of their former coach.

  One finger under her chin forced her eyes to meet his.

  “Is it because of him?” Riley’s low voice sounded grave. “Have you still got feelings for the guy, Ginny, or is it duty to the past that makes Tucker the reason you can’t say yes to me?”

  She’d hurt him, and that was the last thing Ginny wanted to do. She laid her hand on Riley’s arm, begged him to hear what she wasn’t saying.

  “Riley, you’ve been my friend for a very long time, and I care about you. It’s true that I believed it was God’s will for Tucker and me to be together. As silly as that sounds, I guess I still believe that.” She took a deep breath. “But I don’t know what’s happened to him. I don’t know why he’s back. So, yes, in a way I guess Tucker is part of the reason I’m asking for time.”

  “You didn’t say if you were still in love with him.”

  “No, I didn’t.”

  He frowned at her non-response.

  Ginny smiled. One thing she could count on with Riley was his persistence—he didn’t give up his plans easily.

  “I’ve got to pray about your proposal, Riley, seek the Lord’s will. Then I’ll give you my answer.”

  Without saying a word, they both turned to watch Tucker and Coach enter the small bungalow at the end of the street. Minutes passed. Finally Riley spoke.

  “I’m a careful man, Ginny,” he murmured, his fingers tensing on her shoulders. “I don’t like mistakes. I’ll be praying about this, too. I want someone to share Christmas and New Year’s eve with, someone who cares about me. Someone who isn’t pining after a dream.”

  Riley was a rancher. He seldom spoke at all, let alone sweet nothings. This quiet speech touched Ginny deeply.

  “I know you’re lonely, Riley. I am, too, sometimes.” She touched his cheek with her fingers. “But marriage needs more than that to be successful.”

  “Yeah.” He sighed, then dredged up a smile. “Take all the time you need, Ginny. I’ll be out of town for a while, anyway.”

  Riley bent, pressed a light, hurried kiss on her cheek, then stalked to his truck, parked behind the church. He never looked back.

  Ginny stood there watching him until her feet reminded her they wanted to be free. She climbed in her car, kicked off her shoes and turned on the heat. Then she flipped open her cell phone.

  “Hi, Dad. Everything okay?”

  Assured that her father was drowsing through the news and didn’t need her home immediately, Ginny put her car into gear and drove, not even realizing until she parked that she’d driven straight to Pinetree Bluff—Tucker’s favorite spot.

  As she sat in her car on the promontory overlooking the town, Ginny finally loosed her thoughts, let all the worries, doubts and fears pour out in a mishmash of questions.

  Riley Cantrel wanted to marry her. He was a good man, solid, reliable. He wasn’t flashy, didn’t throw money around, seldom said anything he didn’t mean. He believed in the same things she did, went to the same church, shared her faith in God. He would make a good husband.

  For someone else.

  She sighed, the truth worming its way to her brain. Why pretend?

  Then she remembered Riley’s question. Was she still in love with Tucker? The answer haunted her because she didn’t know who Tucker Townsend was anymore. What had he become?

  Seven years ago Tucker had promised to marry Ginny. She’d waited, prayed and kept herself busy while God worked out the details. But Tucker had never returned. Now all the logical reasoning in the world wouldn’t quiet the voice muttering in the back of Ginny’s head.

  Was Tucker back to keep his promise to marry her? Or was he here for something else entirely, something that would only take him away again?

  He hadn’t acted as if he’d come back for her, hadn’t even spent much time talking to her tonight. Certainly he hadn’t suggested another meeting. So what did it mean? She’d kept the faith, done her part, believed, hoped, trusted. Why didn’t God make the answer clear?

  Though the windshield, Ginny watched the northern lights twist their yellow-purple bands in a slow-motion dance that needed no accompaniment. A new untried pattern rippled across the black silk sky, changing colors as it hung suspended in the night. Pure, unadulterated, simple yet glorious.

  Free.

  Ginny squeezed her eyes closed, took a deep breath and faced reality.

  “Okay, God. Truth time. I like Riley, I like him a lot, but I don’t want to marry him. I want what I’ve always wanted—to be Tucker’s wife. I thought that’s what You wanted, too. Was I wrong? Is there truth in Riley’s words? Have I wasted seven years believing in something that isn’t going to happen?”

  The thought of it scared her, and she opened her eyes, waiting for some hint of reassurance. But in the stillness of the spring night the heavens kept silent. No response floated out to quiet the plethora of questions that raged inside her.

  Ginny sighed. She’d have to tell Riley no. He was a good man, a friend, but she co
uldn’t marry him. Not even if Tucker weren’t in the picture. Truthfully, she hadn’t even entertained the idea, not after the first shock. But how to tell him, what words to use? Perhaps if she went over it again, organized everything into pros and cons she could made some sense of order out of this mess.

  “We’re friends, just friends. He’s wonderful, kind, gentle, but I don’t love him. Really, I don’t think he loves me, either.” She tried to remember what had bothered her earlier about his proposal, but the thought would not return.

  “Riley says he wants to marry me. He’d be a good husband, a handsome one.”

  The words from Sunday’s sermon slipped back into her brain with sharp clarity.

  We occupy ourselves with good things, well-meaning things, beneficial things. But are they the best things? Are they God’s choice for us, or simply the result of our own scheming to get what we believe we must have?

  “I know—I can’t marry Riley. But I don’t understand, God. What are You trying to tell me? What is Your plan for me if it isn’t Tucker?”

  The green glow of the numbers on the dashboard caught her glance as the hour turned over. A new day would soon begin.

  “The first day of the rest of my life,” she whispered. “But what will that life be like? Will I go on, hoping and waiting, never seeing an answer to my prayers?”

  The reality of it staggered her. Seven years gone, disappeared since graduation night when she’d looked out on the world and made her plans. Sure, some things hadn’t happened the way she’d wanted. But she’d taken what God had sent and done the best she could with it. She’d made a life for herself, built new plans when the old ones hadn’t worked. She’d followed God’s leading as closely as she knew.

  So why, tonight of all nights, did Tucker’s promise seem so impossible?

  You’ll be my bride, Ginny. I promise.

  A tear trickled down her face.

  “Will it finally happen, God? I want the love and commitment other women have. I want my own family, a future with a man I can share it with. Jubilee Junction’s my home, I can’t leave Dad. What about Tucker? Why don’t I feel Your reassurance that things will be all right now?”