by Donna Alward
Today was going to be perfect.
* * *
Just before two thirty, Rick drove up the lane to Foster House and parked the car next to a catering van and a few other vehicles he assumed belonged to the staff working the reception in the garden. Driving the vintage Mustang was fun. Cars just weren’t made this way anymore. There was a substance to it that no amount of flashy accessories or convenience could replace, and as much as Rick would like to really open it up out on the highway, he was being extra careful. It was someone else’s baby he was borrowing.
He was less comfortable, however, about the tux. The collar felt too tight and he hadn’t managed to fasten the cuff of one shirt sleeve, but otherwise he’d gotten into the damn thing just fine. Rick pulled into the designated parking at the side of the house and got out of the Mustang, shutting the door with a heavy thunk, before making his way up the walk to the steps leading to the front door. With a snort, he thanked the stars Tom had insisted on a regular tuxedo and not something out of the Foster House attic like the girls were wearing. He could only imagine the look on Josh’s face if he’d been forced into some vintage monkey suit. The jokes would go on for years.
Abby had really poured some of the Foster cash into restoring the mansion, though Rick was pretty sure Tom had given her a good bargain on the renovations when all was said and done. The pillars and railings were perfectly white, the trim on the new windows freshly painted. All the shrubbery had been neatly trimmed—all in all it looked like a new place.
He knocked on the door using the heavy brass knocker, and it was opened shortly after by the bride herself. Rick had to admit his best friend was certainly marrying up. The floor-length dress fell in delicate swaths of ivory satin and lace, and the hairdresser had done something to Abby’s hair, making it soft and pretty around her face. It was all framed by a simple but long veil.
“You,” he said, “look beautiful.”
A smile blossomed on her face. “Thank you, kind sir.” She stepped aside. “We’re nearly ready. Come on in for a minute.”
“We don’t want to be late getting you to the church,” Rick said, stepping into the huge foyer and closing the door behind him. “I saw Tom earlier. He’s so nervous you need to show up and put him out of his misery before he ties himself in knots.”
He’d never seen his friend so keyed up. Rick had left Tom at his parents’ place, having a rose pinned to his lapel while he tapped his foot repeatedly.
“Nearly there. Jess is just putting on her shoes.” As she said it, Rick heard the tap tap of high heels going across the upstairs hall.
He swallowed, feeling suddenly nervous and self-conscious in the black tuxedo. Before he could think better of it, he swept his hand over his hair, smoothing it and hoping nothing was out of place.
Footsteps started down the stairs to his right. Her shoes appeared first, navy shoes with a little strap over the top of her foot and feminine hourglass heels. Then the hem of her skirt that swished with each step. Finally the rest of her came into view as she descended the last eight steps. A delicate, pale hand on the bannister, and Jess, stunning in navy satin embellished with antique lace, the shape of the dress making her look willowy and somehow both sophisticated and impossibly young. He ran a finger beneath his shirt collar, which suddenly felt very tight. Her normally natural makeup was amplified for the occasion. The heavier shadow and liner made her deep blue eyes even bluer, and her lips were shiny and begging to be kissed.
Rick blinked as his gaze clashed with hers. As if she’d ever let him close enough for him to kiss her. Though that really wasn’t the point, was it? The point was he actually wanted to. Badly. Wanted to pull her into his arms and find out if she tasted as sweet as she looked.
“What do you think?” she asked softly, turning in a circle at the bottom of the stairs. “Not bad for something stored in an attic for fifty years, huh?”
He nodded and swallowed again … why did his throat feel so tight? “You look great, Jess. You, uh, deserve a better escort than a rough old soldier.”
She frowned. “Don’t sell yourself short. After all, someone needed to drive the car.”
Talk about puffing him up and taking the wind out of his sails in one brief sentence. Rick smiled. Jess Collins might have a soft nature, but she wasn’t one to wallow in sentiment, and he liked that about her.
She came up to him, a sparkle in her eyes. “Your tie isn’t quite right,” she said quietly, and before he could react she lifted her hands and her fingers were right there, an inch away from his throat, straightening the black bow tie while the scent of her surrounded him, soft and sweet.
“It’s fine,” he said, his voice gravelly. He cleared it. “We should get going.”
“We just need our flowers. I’ll be two seconds.”
She disappeared into the dining room where two waxy-white boxes waited, holding the bouquets. Rick looked over at Abby, who was watching him with an amused expression. “So it’s like that,” she observed in an undertone, her eyes twinkling.
“What’s like what?” He played dumb, hoping that the heat crawling up his neck didn’t manifest in a blush. Had he been that obvious?
“You and Jess. You looked like you swallowed a frog when she fixed your bow tie.”
He shook his head. “It’s not like that at all. I’ve known Jess since we were kids.”
Abby laughed. “If you say so.”
“You’re getting married,” he replied. “You just think everyone should be as happy as you are today.”
She came over to him and put her hand on his arm. “Everyone should be as happy as I am. Everyone. Even you, Rick.”
She noticed his unfastened cuff and, with gentle fingers, did it up for him. He looked down at her, feeling an unfamiliar flood of affection. “Tom’s a lucky man, Abby. You’re a good woman. A good friend.”
“Why, thank you.” She gave his lapels one last brush and stood back. Jess came out of the dining room and handed Abby a bouquet of autumn-hued flowers.
“And now we’re ready.”
Jess followed Abby out the door with Rick bringing up the rear. “Do you want this locked?” he asked, pulling the door shut.
“No, the catering people are in the garden setting up, and guests will be back here before we are. It’s fine left open.”
He caught up to them at the bottom of the stairs and went to the Mustang, opening the back door for Abby to get in. Jess slid in beside her, both girls holding their bouquets in their laps. He started the engine and gave the gas a little rev just for fun. When they laughed something stirred inside him. Had he been so far out of the social sphere that he forgot what it was like to hear someone laugh, to do something silly? He knew he’d hidden himself away, but until now he hadn’t realized how much.
He drove slowly into town, knowing they had a few extra minutes and letting them enjoy the drive. Neither seemed to mind that the top was down on the convertible and the breeze ruffled their hair. As they proceeded through a stop sign he took them down along Main Street on a whim—and proceeded to honk the horn at passersby as they crawled along to the church.
Jess leaned forward and tapped his shoulder. “Good idea,” she said behind him. “Can’t believe you thought of it.”
“It’s a nice day and an extra two or three minutes won’t hurt.”
“You’re full of surprises, Rick.”
Rick smiled at her over his shoulder, liking her praise far more than he wanted to admit to himself.
At exactly three minutes to two, the Mustang pulled up in front of the small, white church—right on time. Rick eased the car in front of the steps and cut the engine. He got out and pocketed the keys and then opened the door and offered his right hand. There was a pause while Jess hesitated, and then she put her fingers in his.
His calloused thumb pressed down on top of her fingers, as he stepped back a bit to help her out of the car. Jess met his gaze briefly, their hands still connected, and he almost jumped at the spark
of attraction he felt. He wanted to hold on longer, but instead forced himself to turn away and let go. Out of the corner of his eye he watched her nervously smooth her skirt as he helped Abby from the car.
“You ready?” he asked, turning back to Jess as Abby arranged the hem of her dress.
“Yeah. You go ahead and meet Tom at the front of the church. I’ve got it from here.”
He turned to leave but her voice called him back. “Rick?”
Jess was waiting just to the side, her flowers in her hand. God, she was beautiful. A soft smile lit up her whole face. “Thanks for the lift,” she said. “And for the drive down Main.”
“Yes, ma’am,” he said, giving her a salute.
Then he jogged off to the back door of the church, where his friend waited.
* * *
Jess halted at the church door and took one last look at Abby behind her. Radiant, happy, jubilant. So very certain that she was doing the right thing. So in love, so secure.
The music started—her cue to begin her walk down the aisle. With one last smile, she turned from Abby and straightened her shoulders, made sure her bouquet was centered at her waist, not too high … she stepped onto the carpet as Gloria Henderson played the organ.
The small church was full. Jess felt every eye on her and focused on putting one foot in front of the other. She looked up toward the altar and there stood Tom, looking tall and rugged and handsome in a tuxedo. And beside him, Rick, his face unsmiling, but a heat in his gaze that made her stomach flip like it was full of butterflies. It was the same feeling she’d gotten when she’d put her fingers in his outside, and earlier when they’d driven down to Auburn together.
Rick Sullivan was an attractive man, but Jess had assumed her libido would know better. She should run, not walk. Very far away and very fast. She was not equipped to take on a fixer-upper, no matter how she admired his sense of dry humor, his fantastic art, and his chiseled jawline. There was no way it would work.
Yet she couldn’t bring herself to look away. Not until she got to the front and moved to the left and the music changed. Then all eyes were on the bride as Abby stepped to the door, angelic in her great-grandmother’s dress.
For a moment Jess’s vision blurred. She blinked a few times to clear it, and discovered she wasn’t the only one getting emotional.
Her gaze fell on her mom, Meggie, sitting with Matt and Susan and Mark and Sarah on the other side. Jess smiled when Sarah threw her a discreet wink. Looking around the church, it felt like the whole town had showed up for Abby’s special day. Jess’s gaze skipped happily over the familiar faces of family and friends when one face in the crowd caused her entire body to freeze. Karen Greer looked thin and gray and wore a scarf on her head because of the chemo. The rumors about her illness all appeared to be true.
Jess felt terrible as she looked at Karen’s drawn face, but she wished the Greers had never come back to Jewell Cove. She knew it wasn’t Karen’s fault but just seeing her today brought back a rush of memories Jess would rather remain buried. When Abby reached the altar and took Tom’s hand, Jess turned back around. But not before she saw Rick’s concerned expression.
He’d been watching her. She wasn’t sure if she was flattered or unsettled by that knowledge.
She forced her face to relax and focused on the minister’s words and not on the Greers. She shouldn’t be surprised they were here; Tom’s mother, Barb, and Karen Greer were old friends.
Before long Abby gave Jess her bouquet and put both her hands in Tom’s to exchange vows. Their voices rang out clearly in the sanctuary and Jess watched as Rick reached into his pocket and withdrew the wedding ring, placing it on the minister’s bible. Jess slid Tom’s ring off her thumb and gave it to Abby to put in the crease of the pages, too, and then looked up at Rick.
And couldn’t look away.
She tried to remember the way he’d staggered out of Sarah’s party last summer. Reminded herself that he’d been cut off at The Rusty Fern more than once, that he was no good for her. Instead she could only think of glass paintings of hollyhocks and fence posts, the touch of his fingers on hers, the dark depths of his eyes. What had he been through? Just what had happened to him over there that he’d gone off the rails completely?
Her heart was beating so hard it felt like it was going to pound its way right through her ribs.
She snapped out of the moment when the music started and she realized it was time to sign the register. Jess sat next to Rick at the table to witness the documents. The photographer was there, forcing them to look up and smile, and then Jess took the pen and signed her name before handing it to Rick.
Before he took the pen from her fingers, he leaned in. “Are you okay, Jess?”
“I’m fine,” she whispered back.
“You looked like you saw a ghost there for a while. It’s a wedding. You’re supposed to smile.”
“I’ll try to do better.” She forced a smile and placed the pen in his hand. “Your turn to sign.”
He did, but as they got up, he moved behind her. “I didn’t mean you had to do better.” His rough whisper caressed the back of her neck. “I just wanted to make sure you were all right.”
A tingle went down her spine at his warm words. She would have answered, but the minister called out, introducing the bride and groom and they were off down the aisle again, into the sunny autumn afternoon.
The last thing she needed was Rick being observant. She was entirely too vulnerable right now. The best thing would be to keep her distance. And that was near to impossible tonight, seeing as they still had the reception to get through …
And wedding party pictures.
And a dance.
It was going to be a very long day.
CHAPTER 8
When the receiving line finished, the small wedding party made the short drive in the Mustang to Memorial Square for pictures. Abby had hired local photographer Ryan Donovan to do the honors, and the first shots were taken in front of a blazing, red-hued maple tree and then at the small gazebo set in a corner, surrounded by a small garden. The flowering annuals were gone, but the steps of the gazebo held fall mums in a riot of warm colors: red, bronze, yellow, orange—the same colors as were in the bridal bouquets.
The four of them stood together on the narrow gazebo steps. Jess and Rick bookended the happy couple, and then it was time for Abby and Tom’s solo shots. “Jess, if you could just move forward out of the frame,” Ryan instructed. “Rick, you, too. Perfect!” The click of the camera continued for a few shots. “Now, we’re going to try something a little cuter. Rick and Jess, I want you two to stand just outside the image and extend your arms, each of you making half a heart with your hands. I’m going to frame the happy couple inside the heart.” Ryan demonstrated with his own hands.
Jess felt Rick’s body stiffen up behind her, and she realized that the pose would have him making the heart with his left hand—which meant it would be his prosthetic hand.
“What if we swapped sides?” she asked, raising her eyebrows innocently.
Ryan puckered his brows before shrugging in agreement. As Rick moved to the other side of the shot, his fingers slid over hers in thanks. Jess felt weird making a heart with Rick. For some reason the connection of their hands felt intimate. However, thankfully, a few minutes later it was over.
Ryan packed up his gear and said he’d meet them back at the house for the reception, and a blissfully happy Tom and Abby led the way back to the borrowed car. Jess picked her way across the grass, lifting her hem away from the ground just a little. Rick followed behind, the keys to the Mustang jingling in his hand.
“Hey, thanks for that.”
Jess just shrugged. “It’s no biggie,” she replied before sliding into the front seat of the convertible. She watched curiously as he drove, using his left hand to steer while his right shifted and then quickly joined his left on the wheel. The last few times they’d met she’d gotten a better look at his prosthetic. Science really h
ad come a long way. The color of his prosthetic sleeve was slightly different from the skin on his right hand, but the detail was all there, right down to the fingernails.
“No trouble driving, then?” she asked quietly.
“Nope.”
“You’ve gotten pretty proficient.”
“Not always.”
Jess stole a look into the backseat. Abby and Tom were curled together, wrapped in their own little world. She turned back to the front and ruefully met Rick’s gaze.
“Fun being a third wheel, ain’t it?”
She couldn’t help but smile. “Maybe a bit awkward.”
“They’re happy. Hard to begrudge them that.”
“It doesn’t happen very often.”
“No, ma’am, it doesn’t.”
Did he realize that sometimes he still spoke like a soldier? She wondered if he missed that life. If he missed the camaraderie, the belonging … she knew that Josh did at times. It was one of the reasons why he’d hated practicing medicine in Hartford with Erin’s dad. He still carried himself like a soldier. Still kept his hair military short. He’d said that while he missed parts of Army life, at least he was back home in Jewell Cove, a place where he belonged. With family.
Only Rick had no family. No career. No wonder he’d lost his way.
“You’ve gone quiet, Saint Jess.”
The name should have made her angry or at least defensive. So why did it sound like an endearment the way Rick said it?
They turned up Blackberry Hill and then on to Foster Lane. Cars lined the long driveway and the side lawn, where Bryce had directed people to park. Music came from the backyard, audible once Rick cut the engine. The afternoon was waning but the October sun was unusually warm, so neither Jess nor Abby needed wraps just yet.
“Hang on a sec,” Rick commanded, getting out of the car. Jess waited while he got out and jogged around to her side, then opened her door for her. Her cheeks warmed as she got out and then waited as he opened the door and offered Abby his hand.
