Tucker's Bride

by Lois M. Richer

“But you do agree that the group may continue?” Ginny leaned forward to address them. “You aren’t going to cancel your agreements with the agencies concerned? The funding you promised will remain in place?”

  The mayor glanced from one member to the other. When he spoke, his voice was cool.

  “For now the agreements stand. These partnerships have brought needed income for projects we wouldn’t otherwise be able to consider. The youth center is one of those Jubilee Junction children could benefit from as well as—er, others. We don’t want to sever any connections until we’re in possession of all the facts.”

  “In other words, they’re not ready to kiss off the money, even if they want the kids gone,” Tucker muttered under his breath.

  Ginny tossed Tucker a look that told him to keep his lips sealed.

  “Thank you, Mayor. I’m sure the truth will out and the entire town will realize that Tom is not to blame for this fire.”

  The mayor nodded. “Now, if you’ll excuse us, we will be behind closed doors for the rest of this session.”

  Tucker followed Ginny from the room, indignation boiling as they walked out of the town hall and down the street side by side.

  “At least they haven’t forbidden you to continue.” She tried to sound cheerful. “That’s something.”

  “Not much. Anyway, I’m not sure they could stop a private citizen from running a group.”

  “Maybe not. But they could stop the funding, and that would hurt everybody in town. We’ve got to figure something out.”

  “I wish I’d never gotten involved in this,” Tucker muttered. “I let you talk me into thinking I could do some good, help out. I should have known it would fall apart.” He felt the boiling anger return. “Marty’s doctor thinks he’s going to have to retire. His lungs aren’t in good condition. But without the paper to support him, he’s lost most of his income.”

  “But I thought you said that nephew of his is going to help out. Surely he’ll keep things running until Marty sells out?”

  “If he sells out. Who’d want to buy a paper in the condition that one is?” Despair waited in the darkness, ready to overwhelm him. “Why did I do this? I pushed and pushed, I told them they could be anything, do anything, go anywhere. I let them think the past was behind them, that it had nothing to do with the future they chose. What a lie!”

  “Stop it!” Ginny planted herself in front of him, her nose an inch from his chest. “It wasn’t a lie. They deserve the chance to dream as much as anyone.” She satisfied herself with one last glare, then marched forward, her purple leather shoes slapping against the cement with a loud clatter.

  “Of course they do.” Tucker matched his step to hers. He raked a hand through his hair. “It’s just—I wish I hadn’t offered them such a big carrot, demanded so much. If the group has to fold, it’s going to be a major disappointment.” He stopped in front of her house.

  “I thought maybe I could help change things, make up for—before. You know? I figured I could clear my conscience by proving I’m not a total washup as a human being.”

  “Tucker—”

  He shook his head.

  “But I haven’t. I’ve only made things worse.” He looked at her. “Sorry, Ginny.”

  She shook her head. “Don’t you apologize to me, Tucker Townsend. You go apologize to those boys, tell them you’re giving up on them, that you made a mistake, took a chance that didn’t work out the way you wanted.” She took a step closer. “Go ahead. I dare you.”

  Tucker stared. She was furious. At him!

  “You go to that meeting tomorrow night and you tell them that you’re sorry you tried to change their lives. You quit on them, and then you stand there and watch the life drain out of their eyes.” She slapped her hands on her hips, her eyes flashing emerald fire.

  “Gin, I—”

  “Then, after you’ve done that, you go sit in the corner and sulk about your bad luck, your nasty life, the hard decisions you’ve had to make. You do that while everyone else picks up the pieces. It’s an old pattern, isn’t it, Tuck? Familiar, easy. Comfortable.”

  Ginny, I—”

  “I’ll survive, Tucker. So will they.” She squinted at him, her eyes losing some of their fire.

  Sadness crept over her face, dimming the vibrancy he’d always admired. Her voice whispered to him in the stillness.

  “But will you, Tucker? Will you walk away and forget us all? Will seven years from now find you sitting in Siberia some lonely night, after you’ve covered another headline story, wondering if Tom ever went to college? If Nick did something with that genius he has for motors? If John got over his allergies?”

  She opened the gate, stepped through, then turned, her face in shadow. He didn’t need to see it to know that her mouth drooped in a sad little smile, that her eyes were filling with tears, that her gorgeous hair hung dark and heavy against her back. He didn’t need to see it to know the hope was draining out of her.

  “You want pat answers to tough questions, Tucker. You want me to tell you why.” She hiccuped a sob.

  He could feel the rigid control she exerted as she spoke. He forced himself to listen, though he hated every word.

  “Well, I don’t know why. I only know that this is a chance for you to overcome the difficulties you’ve faced, to take on the challenge you’ve been given and prove to yourself that God is here, waiting for you. Prove that He has given you enough strength, enough brains and enough of everything you need to do whatever He asks. You want answers from God? Ask Him. There will never be a better opportunity.”

  She turned and walked up the path, then let herself into the house without saying good-night. Tucker waited, watched as lights flickered on, then off. After a while the house was dark.

  Her words repeated over and over, like a recording that would not be silenced.

  Opportunity. Opportunity.

  He needed to think, to sort everything out, get his mind cleared.

  Tucker went where he’d always gone to think. He slipped in through the Browns’ back gate and strode down to the water. The old maple was still there, big and welcoming, its branches splayed just enough to cuddle him in its embrace.

  The moon shone bright and round, illuminating the tree house in a silver wash. Would they ever use that tree house again? Would they push and shove their way into the hot pool he and Ginny had enjoyed so often in the past? Would anyone be around to encourage the boys to ignore obstacles and press on?

  The past rolled over him in a tidal wave of memories that he couldn’t squelch. Tucker didn’t even try. Finally he faced it all.

  “I’m sick of running away, sick of feeling guilty and sick of never knowing. If You’re there, please help me. Show me the truth, God. Set me free.”

  He wasn’t going to go down without a fight. Not this time. He’d started something here, something good. Just because he hit a glitch didn’t mean he would run away like a scared rabbit. Tucker Townsend was done with running away.

  Marty was his friend. Tom looked up to him. The rest of the group depended on him, took their cues from his decisions.

  Tucker stared into the sky. Ginny claimed that God was there, waiting to help him, to show him.

  “I’m not giving up,” he whispered. “Maybe I’m not the hero Tom thinks I am, but I’m not a quitter, either. The station will want me back. I haven’t got a lot of time.” He took a deep breath and spoke the words that committed him to seeing this thing through.

  “There’s got to be some clue to prove Tom didn’t do it, right, God? Help me find it? Please?”

  “Tucker? Tucker, what are you doing up there?”

  Ginny’s voice penetrated the mist of sleep as it had so many mornings in their childhood. Lost in a dream of the past, Tucker debated. Was it past or present?

  He opened his eyes and grinned. Present, definitely present, he told himself as he caught a glimpse of her panda-bear slippers. Those were not the ankles of a child.

  “Have you been here a
ll night?”

  He eased himself out of his perch, rubbing his neck as he did. “Yeah, I guess.”

  “You idiot! You could have fallen and broken your neck and no one would have known.” Her pink fuzzy robe flapped in the breeze that ruffled her curls into a frothy mess.

  He watched her lips part at the exact moment his cell phone rang.

  “Hold that thought, Gin.” Tucker fished out the phone and flipped it open. “Hello? Hi.” It was them again. He listened, all pleasure in the day draining away as the words washed over him.

  “Who? When?” He swallowed. “You’re sure it’s Ulysses? I see. No, he’s not bluffing. Yes, I’ll come. Let me know when.”

  He clipped the phone closed without thinking, the fear rising like a phantom. Why now?

  “Tucker? What’s wrong?”

  He stared at her for a moment, wondering why she was there.

  “That was the network. They sent someone to take my place, to cover my story. He’s a rookie, doesn’t know diddly about Africa. He’s been captured by a militia group.”

  “Ulysses’s militia group.”

  She’d heard enough, Tucker noticed. He told her the rest.

  “That bunch don’t let people wander through their territory. Particularly not since they tried it last year and got some very negative press. They’ve had an uphill battle to prove they’re not hooligans ever since.”

  “What aren’t you saying, Tucker?” She sat on a nearby rock and drew her robe around her legs.

  “They’ll give him up if I go and talk to them, do a story that shows their side of the conflict. If I don’t go, they’ve threatened to kill my replacement.” He lifted his eyes to meet hers, let her see the fear crowding him. “It’s my fault he’s there, Gin. He went to do my job. I have to go.”

  “Yes, you do.” Her voice was steady, calm, relieved.

  “I’m scared.” It was the first and only time he’d ever said those words aloud. But they were the truth, and Tucker was determined to deal only in truth from this point on.

  “I know.” She smiled a funny, understanding grin.

  “I’ve made a big mess of things, Gin. You were right, I was feeling sorry for myself. And by doing that, I avoided responsibility. I pretended I was responsible, but what I really wanted was someone to come and make it all go away.” He shrugged. “I guess this means it isn’t going away.”

  “No.”

  The silence that yawned between them wasn’t awkward or strange. He sensed that she deliberately kept silent so he could marshal his thoughts.

  “It’s time for me to go back there and face the fear, Gin. Time to let God be in charge. It’s time I tested what I’ve learned here, from you.” He moved to crouch in front of her. “I’ve learned so much, Ginny. You’ve given me so many things, so much patient understanding. Last night I asked God to tell me why the things that happened had to happen at all. I guess now He’s going to show me.”

  She smiled, tears shining in her eyes.

  “But I don’t want to go until I tell you something. If I’m going to be dealing with the truth, I need to tell you the truth. It might hurt, but it’s the truth.”

  “Truth is good.” She sat there, waiting.

  Tucker took her hands in his, held them tightly and began.

  “All of my life I felt like second best, felt that I had to prove I could do things, could be good at something. We lived next door to you, and I saw how great your home was.” He tried to smile and failed. “Mine wasn’t like that, Gin. My family was about as far from the perfect Christian home as you can imagine. And I was about as far from a Christian as it’s possible for anyone to be.”

  “Tucker, you don’t have—”

  He stopped her, one finger against her lips.

  “Yes,” he told her firmly. “I do. So let me.”

  She studied him for several moments, then nodded.

  “I felt like a failure and I had proof whenever I compared myself and my family to yours. I guess that’s why I never had your assurance that God was there for me.” He sighed. “Then came college.”

  Her face lost its joyful look, so Tucker hurried with this part.

  “I did love you, Ginny. And I was going to return and marry you. I always meant to keep our pact and to keep my promise. Don’t ever doubt that.”

  “Okay.” She smiled.

  “I made up my mind what I wanted to do, but my family didn’t agree. They didn’t believe in my dream. I was determined to prove them wrong. That’s why I didn’t stay behind when you did. I was afraid I wouldn’t follow through, and I had to. I had to, Ginny.”

  I know.” She nodded. Tears rolled down her cheeks.

  Tucker made himself concentrate on what he was saying, on getting it right.

  “So I started college, and that first year I won a scholarship. That was like vindication for me. It was my chance to prove to my family, the town, myself, that I was worthy of this. That I could make it. Then I found out why my parents had to move from Jubilee Junction so quickly. They were getting a divorce, and they didn’t want their fellow parishioners to know. Failure again.”

  He shrugged.

  “I’m sorry, Tuck.” Ginny brushed his arm with her hand. “Very sorry.”

  “I had to make it in school. I couldn’t possibly come back here for you until I’d proven myself to you, your father, the town. I had to be worthy of you.”

  “You always were,” she whispered, one finger tracing the curve of his jaw. “You didn’t need college or anything else to prove that.”

  He kissed the palm of her hand, then cradled it in his.

  “I studied every chance I got, worked two jobs, took extra classes through the summer. I pushed as hard as I could. One day someone noticed, and I got a chance to work with a master. It was a godsend I couldn’t ignore.”

  Now came the hard part. Tucker sucked in a breath of courage.

  “I knew I could do it. I knew if I just kept my eyes on the goal, I would make it. I told myself that if I came back here, visited you, let my concentration lapse for a second, I’d lose my determination and never fulfill my dream. I’d be a failure.” He swallowed, allowing the truth to emerge. “I couldn’t take that chance, so I decided it would be easier if I didn’t contact you at all.”

  The grief on her face burned straight to his heart.

  “I’m sorry, Ginny. Truly. I knew it would hurt you, but I didn’t see any other way. I rationalized my decision, told myself you’d be glad when you realized what I’d accomplished.”

  “But you never came back.” She glanced at him, tears shimmering on the ends of her lashes.

  “I know.”

  “Why, Tucker?” She smiled through her tears. “Funny, isn’t it? This time I’m the one asking why.”

  “I don’t know if I can explain this properly. I’m not even sure I completely understand it.”

  “Try.”

  He sighed. He owed her that—an explanation—at the very least. She’d waited, hoped, kept the faith. He’d left her high and dry.

  “I was offered a job by my mentor. It was my chance. If I could prove myself, he promised I’d have more opportunities than I’d ever imagined. In the back of my mind I heard my dad and his words all over again. This was a fluke. I would never make it as a reporter. You and I wouldn’t make it. Not unless we had something to build on. Something other than love.”

  “But—”

  “I watched them mess up their lives, Ginny. All in the name of love. They divorced each other, married someone else and divorced them, too. My sister left her husband after ten years because she didn’t love him any more. She found someone new.”

  “I’m sorry.” She reached out to touch him, then let her hand drop to her lap.

  “I know. So was I. But the message was sinking in, and the more stories I covered, the more I saw the truth of it. Love didn’t matter one whit when greed and lust took over. What we’d had in high school—it wouldn’t have lasted. It was just a kid t
hing, a fairy tale we dreamed existed. After a while I believed what I told myself. So I never came home, never had the courage to find out the truth.”

  He turned away, not wanting Ginny to see how much this hurt.

  “Then Quint died. There, in the middle of that nightmare, with shots whizzing past me left and right, I realized that I was no different than anyone else.” He dashed the moisture from his eyes, furiously angry with himself for denying the truth for so long.

  The sun crawled across the sky with pink flamingo fingers that bathed the wooded glen in dawn. Tucker noticed, but kept his attention on the issue at hand.

  “My need for fame, that craving to prove I was more than just the son of a loser—all of that and more superceded my watching out for the one person who’d stuck to me no matter what.” He swallowed. “I sacrificed Quint for my own greed, just like my dad sacrificed our entire family for some younger, prettier woman.”

  There. He’d said it. Admitted the truth, shredded the lies and the pretense that he’d clung to for so long.

  “I’m the author of my own problems, Ginny. I did it to myself. And to you. I’m sorry.”

  “It’s okay, Tuck. I forgave you a long time ago.” She drew his face around so she could look into his eyes. “We often create our own unhappiness. It’s called being human.”

  Now that he’d said it, he wanted all of it out. The truth laid bare to heal in the fresh, warm sunlight of day. Then he’d take the next step.

  “I only proposed to Amanda because I had some stupid idea that marriage would solve my problems.”

  “But no one else can make us happy, can they? It has to come from inside.” She nodded, her face gentle, caring. “Sometimes that’s the hardest thing to accept. I’m glad you told me, Tucker.”

  “But do you know why I did decide to tell you the truth?” He hardened himself for the ordeal ahead.

  Ginny’s eyes opened wide. She lifted her shoulders. “You needed to talk?”

  “Maybe. But that wasn’t all of it. I wanted to explain why I can’t resume our relationship, why I can’t just pick up where we left off.”

  “Oh.”

  It was like watching the sun go behind a cloud. The joy drained out of her face, left her eyes wary, watchful.