Marrying the Wedding Crasher

by Melinda Curtis

  A hopeless effort, a vindictive voice inside his head whispered.

  Vince clung to it anyway. To love. And possible happiness.

  The afternoon sunlight bounced off the new finish on the redwood picnic table, revealing the tracks of splits and scars in the wood, wounds that Joe had tried to fill. His little brother should’ve known that was futile.

  A hopeless effort.

  More blood drained from Harley’s face and she wavered like a strand of tall grass in the wind.

  “The dad. Is it that—” Vince caught sight of Sam out of the corner of his eye and reconsidered his word choice “—loser Dan?” An image of Dan’s smarmy face swam before him. He suddenly couldn’t stand the thought of Harley having Dan’s baby. “Tell me the truth.”

  “If I’m pregnant...” Harley’s voice shook. “It’s yours.”

  “But we were always so careful.”

  “I never slept with Dan.” Harley’s voice hardened. “He used to be my boss.”

  Vince envied that strength. He was still too far off kilter to process anything properly.

  “It’s only been you.” Harley didn’t sound pleased about that at all.

  Widening his stance, Vince shored up his legs, which happened to be rebelling, like every cell in his body, to the idea of parenthood. “Do you know what you’ve done?”

  “What I’ve done?” Her eyes narrowed. Her arms unwound from her waist and her hands came to rest on her hips. “Please, tell me.”

  “Brit, get Sam inside.” Joe took Vince’s arm, not to steady it, but to try to yank some sense into him, as if Vince’s arm was the emergency shut-off valve connected to his mouth.

  Vince wrenched his arm free. “I’m not good husband material and I can’t be a father. You know this.” Bitterness formed in Vince’s stomach. It erased every bit of control and rational thought he had left. “I spent years making sure my life wouldn’t be as hurtful as my father’s was. And that child...” He pointed at her flat belly, but couldn’t complete the sentence.

  “It scares you,” she spoke softly. Those blue eyes...they registered pain, loss. They mourned love’s passing. They punctured the bitterness in Vince’s stomach.

  Not enough to get rid of it completely. “You’re damn right it does,” he wheezed. “And it should scare you, too.”

  One of Harley’s slender hands drifted over the waistband of her jeans. She was choosing sides. Her gaze returned to Vince. Her chin came up a notch. She hadn’t chosen him.

  This was wrong. Everything was wrong. Her being pregnant. Him saying hurtful words. The situation. The redwood table. He almost sank to his knees and begged forgiveness.

  A sound to his left drew his attention.

  Brit had turned the knob on the door from the service bay to the sales office. The sound sent him back in time.

  Mom turning the doorknob, carrying a suitcase. Her eyes red from crying. I’m sorry. I’m sorry. I’m sorry.

  “Go. Just. Go. No one wants you here.”

  Her expression hardened. “You’re just like your father.”

  Brit swung the door open.

  “Apologies won’t make things right.” Bitterness swelled inside Vince, roughening his words, hardening his stance.

  You’re just like your father.

  Vince forced himself to meet Harley’s gaze squarely. Forced himself not to think about love or lifetimes lost. “I can’t be the person you want me to be.”

  “You mean you won’t try.” Harley’s hand remained at her waist.

  “That’s right.”

  “Hey,” Joe spoke to Vince in a calm voice. “Take a minute to think about this.”

  But Vince’s head was shaking, his hands were shaking. Heck, his brain felt shaken. How could Harley stand there and deliver the news with such composure? “The Messinas, without warning, could follow in their father’s footsteps and lose their grip on reality.”

  Like now, he thought, feeling completely out of control, consumed by resentment toward his father’s DNA.

  “Vince, how about you and I go to the bar and get drunk?” Gabe stepped between Vince and Harley. “I’m buyin’.”

  Vince shoved him to the side. “Dad was fine when he was younger. Just as sane as you or me.” A distant part of Vince’s brain noted he wasn’t making a case for sanity. He ignored it and snapped his fingers. “And then everything changed. Dad was paranoid. Depressed. Suicidal. That could be any one of the three of us. Any time.” He caught sight of Sam lingering at the door in the service bay with Brit. “And Sam... She could wake up one day and—”

  “Shut up!” Normally, Joe was the quiet one in the family. Not when his daughter’s feelings were threatened. His face was red and his words on fire. “Brit, get Sam inside! Now!”

  “Vince.” Harley’s voice was placating, but she hadn’t moved a step toward him.

  Her distance was just as well. Vince was past the point of reason. “I can’t predict if a child of mine is going to be right as rain or mad as a hatter. No one can tell. No one can predict.”

  Sam wailed, turning to bury her head in Brit’s shoulder.

  Vince cast his gaze around the assembled group, trying to make them see the truth of it. “You can’t run away from this, Harley, not like you run away from a bad day on the job. You have to grow up sometime. I can’t protect that baby from the possibility of me being a danger to those around me.”

  “Stop.” Harley choked on the word. She raised her watery eyes to the sky while her hands dropped to her sides and her mouth worked. Not that she found any words. Not for several painful seconds. And then her hands fisted and she put Vince in her sights and words shot out like buckshot. “You don’t need to say any more. You don’t need to hurt me. Or Sam. Or your brothers. You don’t need to lash out at us because you can’t stand to hurt alone.

  “Schizophrenia is a disease, like cancer or Alzheimer’s.” Harley glared at him. “Did I tell you breast cancer runs in my family? I could get it at any time.” She laid her hands over her breasts before resting her hands on her hips once more. “You do not own the what-if-I-get-a-disease card.”

  “She’s right,” Gabe said.

  Vince might have agreed if he wasn’t so afraid for that baby she was carrying.

  Harley drew a deep breath and the hard shine in her eyes softened. She tilted her head to one side and looked at Vince the way she had this morning. With tenderness. But also with sadness and regret, emotions so powerful they pressed in on Vince.

  “I’ll love this baby the same whether you want to be a part of its life or not. I’ll love this baby whether it comes into this world healthy or with mental challenges. I’ll love...” Her breath caught in her throat. She drew another, set her shoulders back, and took aim one more time. “I’ll love this baby exactly as I could’ve loved you.” And then she turned on her heel and ran toward the bridge.

  Leaving Vince shot full of holes. He sagged on his feet.

  This is how Dad felt when Mom left.

  His father had told the boys to never speak of her again. That hadn’t kept Vince from thinking about her or missing her or waking up in the middle of the night with a pain in his chest that wouldn’t go away.

  This is what I tried to avoid.

  Except, in his mind, he hadn’t thought he’d feel like he’d been tied to a tow rope and dragged up Parish Hill and then left to rot. He hadn’t imagined he’d be the one who was left. Again.

  “Consider your next words carefully, Vince.” Joe crossed the parking lot to comfort Brit and Sam, who still stood huddled at the office door.

  “Congratulations. You didn’t just hurt Harley.” Gabe stared at Vince like he didn’t have the proper credentials at a hostile checkpoint. “You hurt your family.”

  Harley reached the bridge. Her steps faltered. She bent over, as if she were breaking.

&
nbsp; He almost went to her. He almost gave in. But Harley was tough enough to recover. He had to be strong enough to let her go.

  “I’m not sorry.” Vince watched Harley gather herself and continue over the bridge. “I’m scared for Sam. And I’m scared for us.”

  “You can’t turn your back on your child,” Joe said in a more controlled voice, having finally gotten Sam to go inside.

  “I’ll give her child support.” He tried not to watch Harley’s retreating back, tried not to think about what-ifs and rolling with the punches. “I don’t want to make Harley or that baby suffer. I don’t want to push Harley to the brink of a breakdown, until my own child tells her to go. To get away. To leave her babies and save herself. It was too hard with Mom.”

  Joe and Gabe didn’t say a word. They stared at Vince, processing his admission.

  His final secret was out.

  “You told Mom to leave?” Joe’s voice had the sharp edge of a diamond blade.

  “I drove her to the bus station,” Vince admitted. Surprisingly, the weight on his shoulders didn’t feel any lighter.

  “With your blessing?” Gabe’s hands fisted.

  “Yes.”

  “Is that why you don’t spend time with us?” Gabe’s voice was unfamiliar. Rigid. Severe. “You chose her instead of us?”

  “I chose to protect you.” Vince’s words were a betrayal unto themselves. “And her.”

  Gabe’s brows were so low they almost seemed a part of his black eyes. “Why? She could have kept Dad from killing himself.”

  “Get out.” Joe’s words were harsh and raw. Vince had just used the same unforgiving pitch with Harley. “You’re not my brother. You’re not family. You have no idea what family means. What loyalty means. What love means.” Joe pointed toward the highway with a hand that shook. “Leave. Don’t come back. Don’t call. Don’t come to my wedding.”

  Vince didn’t need to be told twice. He’d known for years Joe and Gabe wouldn’t approve of what he’d done.

  He drove back to the bed-and-breakfast, gathered his things and was out the door before Harley returned to their room.

  If Harley had meant to return to their room.

  It didn’t matter. Vince left town to be alone.

  Just like Mom had done.

  CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

  IF HARLEY WAS SMART, she’d go directly to the bed-and-breakfast, shove everything in her duffel, and beg for a ride to the airport from Reggie. But she wasn’t thinking as she ran away from Vince.

  She was hurting.

  Harley crashed through brush along the river’s edge. Her T-shirt ripped. Her hair yanked. And yet she didn’t stop to be careful. She couldn’t stop.

  Vince didn’t want to be a daddy.

  Vince didn’t want her.

  Harley had suspected he’d break up if the cautious love between them grew stronger. She’d suspected he’d need space. She hadn’t anticipated a rupture that laid waste to hope and made ashes of her heart.

  She had no idea how long she’d been running when she stumbled into a tree, this one an oak. The bark was rough but the circumference sturdy. She wrapped her arms around it, not caring that its bark scraped her skin. It was a small discomfort compared to the pain she couldn’t bring herself to face.

  Someone cleared their throat.

  Immediately, her heart leaped toward the possibility of Vince having a change of heart and having miraculously found her. She lifted her head and...

  There was a man, all right. She should have known it wouldn’t be Vince.

  She’d reached a small park. Tall trees. Sparse grass. Picnic benches.

  “I suppose you don’t want to hear me ask if there’s anything I can do for you.” The mayor stood a few feet away. He wore black tights and a yellow tie-dyed tank. He carried a green rolled-up yoga mat and looked serene enough to have been using it. He held out his arms. “But I’m a lot better at hugging than that tree.”

  The man was a stranger to her. But in that moment, she accepted his offer of solace, ran into his arms and cried on his shoulder. And cried. And cried some more.

  She shed tears for lost dreams. A stellar career. An unrequited love. A handsome, supportive husband. A child doted on by two adoring parents. Every tear was like a piece of her heart falling into the river and being swept away.

  When her tears had subsided, Mayor Larry pulled back to look at her face. “That’s rock bottom. You’ve got no place to go from here but up.”

  It would be rude to roll her eyes, so Harley closed them instead.

  “Open your eyes, Harley. You’ve got to face it. It could be worse.” The mayor towed her to a picnic table, set her down and sat beside her, laying his yoga mat at his sandaled feet.

  She drew a shuddering breath. “You heard through the phone tree?” Had it already spread that Vince had left her?

  “I did get the message that you’re carrying.” He said it as if she was toting a gun.

  “Vince...left.” The words, said out loud, only made her hurt more.

  “Some men have a hard time dealing with mortality.” He put his elbows on the picnic table behind him and stared at the river. “When my wife told me she was having a baby, I was terrified.”

  “But I bet you didn’t reject her.” Harley laid a protective hand over her abdomen.

  “I told her I wasn’t ready. Still had things I wanted to do with my life.” He stretched his legs out in front of him. “Wasn’t my proudest moment.” He fixed Harley with a knowing look. “She kicked me out of the house. Wouldn’t let me back in for two weeks. It forced me to think about who I was and who I wanted to be.” He shrugged and looked at the river again. “Mostly, it made me realize who I wanted to spend the rest of my life with and if I deserved her.”

  “Vince doesn’t deserve me.” Harley’s eyes burned with tears, but she had to say it, even if it was only out of loyalty to the little one growing inside her. “He doesn’t deserve this baby.”

  Harley hoped Vince would have a change of heart, but she doubted it. It was going to be hard to face him, but she was ready. “Thank you for not running away when I was hysterical.”

  “I have daughters.” The mayor had the kindest eyes. “I wouldn’t want them to be alone at a moment like this.” He slapped the tops of his thighs. “Now. Tell me you’ve thought more about our downtown projects. I could open up the doors for you if you need to get inside and measure.”

  “Today?” Harley didn’t want to. And yet it might be just the distraction she needed. Not to mention she’d have an excuse to give Vince some breathing room.

  “Not today.” Mayor Larry brushed a tear from her cheek. “You need a good rest to be creative.”

  “Tomorrow, then.” She needed to talk to Vince tonight.

  She pulled herself together and returned to the bed-and-breakfast, prepared to reiterate to Vince his opinion didn’t matter. She was having this baby with or without him. Hopefully with him.

  But apparently without him.

  Vince was gone.

  His things were cleared out of the bathroom and his suitcase wasn’t in their room.

  Admittedly, she’d crumbled. Vince hadn’t just rejected her. He’d left her. His fear of hurting someone was greater than the love he felt for her.

  I could love you if...

  Harley stayed in her room, not answering when Brit and Reggie knocked. She needed time to grieve.

  Hours without solid food made her feel a bit weak the next morning, but not nearly as nauseous. She took an apple from the dining room sideboard and made her escape without anyone seeing her. She had a meeting with Mayor Larry to keep.

  The morning was bright. The air crisp. Perfect weather for love and happiness. Heartbreak? Not so much.

  Mayor Larry met her outside the old locksmith shop. He’d brought her a green tea from Ma
rtin’s, opened the doors to all four spaces, and left her alone. But she wasn’t alone. She saw Vince everywhere.

  Harley wandered around the empty stores the mayor wanted for his tie-dye shop, but couldn’t bring herself to sit still and sketch. She kept seeing Vince’s features soften as he’d complimented Mildred’s driving skill.

  She went across the street to the grocery store. Nothing interested her in that spiderwebbed building, either, except for the empty train trestle around the outer walls. Its wire support reminded her of a suspension bridge.

  This was hopeless. She was being paid good money to bring the town council’s vision to life. And all she saw, all she heard, all she felt, was Vince.

  Dutifully, she entered the tall building Rose wanted for the main theater, convinced nothing would inspire her enough today to take her mind off Vince. The building was a box. A blank slate. Her brain was just as empty.

  Fresh air billowed inside the open space. She sat against a wall close to where Vince had stood yesterday, and contemplated the hard decisions ahead of her. She needed a better job, a better place to live, a good babysitter. She couldn’t afford to wallow, or worse, run away as she’d done with Dan. Vince had been right about that, at least. She needed to face her problems like an adult, even if it took her baby steps to get her life on track again.

  She flipped open her sketchpad, but not to an empty page. She’d flipped it open to the spread of the theater with its ribbon of balconies. “I didn’t need to see you today.” She began to flip to something else when she noticed a set of bold lines fringing her balcony. Lines she hadn’t drawn. At the edge of the paper was a small set of neat initials. VM.

  Vince just couldn’t resist. He had to try to fix the unfixable balcony. She hadn’t asked him to. She hadn’t even given him permission to look at her sketchbook. He’d butted in and done it, the same way he’d taken on responsibility for everyone else he cared about.

  There was no pattern to his lines. They were drawn like a poorly constructed cat’s cradle, the child’s game with string, one finger-move from flipping into a single loop and losing the game. Nothing webbed or regularly spaced, which meant...