by Donna Alward
They walked to the back of the house, Abby and Tom in the lead. Just before they got to the garden path, he held out his arm. “Shall we?” he murmured.
She tucked her hand through his arm.
Cheers erupted as they entered the garden, which had been transformed into something worthy of a fairy tale. White tents were set up with white linen-covered tables and chairs beneath the canopies. Each tent housed a long row of tables, and chafing dishes with blue flames were precisely lined up, presided over by chefs in spotless white coats and hats. The garden, while devoid of its summer splendor, still held shrubs in various ranges of color, as well as late-blooming mums and asters. A handful of firebushes had turned, the blazing red leaves vibrant and stunning. The colors were repeated in centerpiece arrangements on each table.
“Wow,” Rick breathed beside her.
“Abby throws a classy affair,” Jess said quietly. “You have to kind of expect it, with the house and all.”
“It’s not exactly beer and pretzels at the Fern.”
“No, it’s not.”
He looked down at his tux. “I’m not really in my element. I feel like a damned monkey.”
She chuckled as they moved farther into the garden, and she slipped her hand off his arm. “You look fine. Very handsome.”
Before Rick could speak, Abby came over, a bright smile on her lips. “Hello, you two. Have I thanked you both for being so amazing today?”
Rick smiled and put a hand in his pants pocket. “No thanks necessary. Now, if you’ll excuse me, ladies, I see Josh looking glum in the corner.”
Jess watched Rick walk away feeling oddly disappointed to see him go. Today, they’d actually gotten along pretty well. Rick was not a bad guy. He had a lot of good qualities. And she couldn’t forget his paintings. It was one heck of a coping strategy. So why did he get under her skin so easily? And that look he’d given her in the church. Man, oh man.
“So, you and Rick…” Abby trailed off, wagging her eyebrows at her maid of honor. “He sure does clean up nice.”
“Hmm,” Jess replied, not wanting to say too much. All she needed was for Abby to go into matchmaking mode.
“Hmm? That’s it? Come on, Jess. Rick’s got that totally hot and edgy thing going on.”
He did indeed. And wasn’t that the problem?
“Hot, maybe,” she conceded, simply because it was stating the obvious. “But my taste doesn’t really run to the edgy types.”
“You could have fooled me, the way you were looking at each other today,” Abby teased.
Jess couldn’t help but smile at her friend, who meant well and wasn’t being the least bit shy about her intentions. “I get it, Abs. But your groom is looking a little neglected. Don’t worry about me. I’m going to get some punch and relax.”
“Good.” Before she left, Abby folded Jess in a hug. “You really have been the best friend a bride could ask for,” she whispered in Jess’s ear. “I just want you to be happy, too.”
“I am,” Jess assured her, giving her a squeeze before standing back. “Now go. Be bridal.”
Jess mingled for a while. It wasn’t difficult; the guest list was mostly people she’d known for years. Her punch was replenished twice and she caught up with Josh, who had miraculously managed to lose Summer Arnold in the crowd somewhere.
“Lose your date?” Jess teased. She knew Josh wasn’t interested in Summer, wasn’t interested in dating much at all.
“Hey, we sat together and that’s it. We’re both attending stag.”
“She didn’t look like she minded.”
He raised an eyebrow. “Don’t even.”
“Sarah and Mark made it.” Indeed, Sarah was looking lovely, if a bit thin, in a deep red dress, and Matt and Susan were in their Sunday best. “She looks better.”
“I hope so,” Josh said. “Physically she’s fine. The rest will come in time.”
“And how about you, Josh? How are you doing?”
“You know me,” he said easily. “Can’t keep me down for long.”
“Does it bother you that Tom’s so happy?” She’d often wondered if Josh envied Tom the ability to move on and find love.
“Naw. He suffered enough. I might have hated him but it wasn’t really anything he could control. He did his part and stayed away. He didn’t encourage Erin’s feelings. I know that.” He looked down at her, his eyes sad.
“Oh, Josh,” Jess said, putting a hand on his arm.
“Well, enough about that. This is a wedding. A time to celebrate, right? Besides, they’re calling everyone to dinner. We should find our seats.”
Josh was seated with his mom, Meggie, and Sarah’s family. Jess made her way to the head table, which was set for just the four of them. Candles had been added to the tables, thick white ones enclosed in glass globes, the flames flickering gently.
Bryce doubled as parking attendant and emcee, and once everyone was seated he went to the front where a microphone had been set up so all could hear, no matter which tent they were in. Waitstaff went around each table, filling goblets with wine or punch. Once each person had a full glass, Bryce stepped up to the mic. “Ladies and gentlemen, may I give you Mr. and Mrs. Tom Arseneault!”
He lifted his glass, and the guests did likewise as they toasted the bride and groom. Jess looked over. Rick was holding an empty glass. She wondered if that was the first glass he’d emptied tonight—or if there’d been more.
The sound of spoons erupting on glassware filled the tents and Jess grinned. Some traditions never changed. When the sound grew to a fever pitch, Abby and Tom stood and kissed, and the glass tinkling faded as everyone cheered and clapped.
The meal was served buffet style—a gorgeous seasonal feast of pork loin and applesauce, baked haddock and all the trimmings. The sun faded and white twinkle lights were turned on around the garden. Conversation was spared as everyone ate and then, as dessert was served, speeches were made.
Jess had just dipped into her apple crisp and ice cream when Bryce called Rick to the podium to give the toast to the bride.
Jess put down her spoon and watched as he reached into his pocket for an index card, put it on the podium in front of him, took a breath, looked up, and smiled.
She swallowed around a lump in her throat. When Rick smiled, it did something to her. Maybe because she knew he didn’t have a lot to smile about. Maybe because she knew he was trying. Maybe, most important of all, because she remembered that boyish smile. And she’d missed it.
“When Tom asked me to be his best man, there was no way I could say no,” Rick began, his crooked smile charming the socks off the gathered guests. “I’ve known Tom for as long as I can remember. We grew up together. Got into a fair bit of trouble together.” There were a few knowing chuckles in the crowd and he smiled again. “We went in different directions, but when I came back to Jewell Cove, Tom was the guy who really went the extra mile for me. So yeah. Best man—I got your back, buddy.”
Even though he didn’t know Abby that well, his next words about the couple were heartfelt and sweet, talking about how happy she’d made his friend—first by letting him get his hands on Foster House and then by giving him her heart. There were damp eyes and big smiles all around as he closed by saying, “Lift your glasses, everyone … To the Bride, Mrs. Abigail Arseneault.”
He lifted his glass, which Jess noticed was just plain sparkling water, and she felt a little pang in her chest. This was the Rick she remembered from childhood. As he sipped, his gaze settled on her and his dark eyes seemed to challenge her to change her mind about him.
“To Abigail,” the guests intoned, followed by the clinking of glasses.
* * *
Jess raised her glass and drank as Rick stepped away from the podium and back to his seat. When he was beside her again, she leaned over. “That was very nice.”
“It wasn’t that hard, because it was all true.”
With the string quartet playing behind them and the scent of flowers and the
flickering candles, something clicked between them. Something Jess wasn’t ready for. Something she wasn’t sure she wanted.
Tom and Abby got up to go cut the wedding cake and together they watched as Tom put his hand over Abby’s on the cake knife and they sliced through the bottom layer. Everyone clapped and camera flashes went off like fireflies in the dusky light. Rick leaned over a little and said in an undertone, “Aren’t we supposed to dance together later?”
Her throat tightened. “Yes, I think we are.”
And heaven help her, she was looking forward to it.
CHAPTER 9
As evening deepened and the temperatures dipped, the guests moved inside for dancing. The chandeliers were dimmed to a soft light, and a small bar was set up in the corner of the dining-room-turned-ballroom room close to the fireplace. A fire burned behind the grate, the light casting flickering shadows on the walls. Jess mingled for a while, visiting with friends and neighbors, until the music started up.
Rick went to the bar and came back with a couple of glasses. He handed one to Jess. “Just soda,” he said, hanging back and putting a hand in his pocket.
“Okay,” she answered. She took a drink. The house was warmer than she’d anticipated. The fire was nice but it was also throwing extra heat in a house full of people.
“I told you I wouldn’t drink tonight,” Rick said quietly beside her, his gaze on the fire. “I know you think I’m a drunk, but you can stop inspecting everything I swallow. Besides, if I’m driving Glen’s car I have to be on my best behavior.”
“You like the ’stang?”
“I do. Not sure I’d want to restore my own, but it was a kick driving it around today.”
Bryce picked up the cordless mic and began speaking again. “Ladies and gentlemen, would you please clear the floor for the bride and groom’s first dance.”
Jess watched with a lump in her throat as Tom took Abby in his arms. He gave Abby such a tender smile that Jess was sure every female heart in the room practically melted, and as the music started and their feet began moving, every eye was transfixed on the happy couple.
“They’re great, aren’t they?”
She looked over at Rick. “Yes, they are.”
“I wasn’t sure Tom would ever find someone. But last spring, after Abby showed up … he was different.”
“Different how?” Jess asked, watching the couple turn on the floor, gazing into each other’s eyes.
“He’d been just going from day to day, you know? Running his business, living out at his place, but he was just going through the motions. When Abby showed up, it was like he had a purpose again.”
Jess wasn’t sure if Rick was describing Tom or himself. “What about you? Do you have a purpose, Rick?”
“I keep looking,” he admitted. “At first it was just get through each day. Sometimes it’s still like that.”
The dance ended, but Bryce called for the maid of honor and best man to join the couple as well as Tom’s parents.
“This is us,” he said quietly, holding out his hand.
She realized belatedly that he’d held out his left hand—his prosthetic. She’d never touched it before. She took it and schooled her face while the material felt slightly odd beneath her fingertips. Once on the floor his right arm came around her and her hand was cushioned in the stiff-feeling artificial limb.
“Should I have warned you?” he asked as they started dancing to the slow song.
“About what?” she bluffed.
He chuckled. “Sorry. It doesn’t exactly feel like flesh and blood.”
She looked into his eyes. “Of course it doesn’t.” She frowned. She’d never known anyone with an artificial limb before. “How well can you use it?” she asked, curious.
Without breaking her gaze, the pressure on her hand tightened, squeezing, and then released.
“You just squeezed my hand.”
“Yup.”
“How?”
They kept turning on the floor. “I have a myoelectric hand. It means that electrical signals from my muscles trigger the movement.”
“That is so cool.” She felt her face heat. “I mean, it’s not cool that you lost your hand, Rick. Sorry. But that technology can do that…”
“I know what you mean. Fine motor skills aren’t so great, but I manage just fine. There are newer, more expensive types that have a lot better dexterity. It’s pretty amazing.”
“It must have been a big adjustment.”
He laughed then, but it was humorless. “The rehab was a pain in the ass. I wasn’t a very good patient.”
“I can imagine.”
“I was pretty bitter. I still am.”
“If you ever want to talk about it, I’m here, you know.” She bit down on her lip, suddenly wanting him to confide in her. She understood privacy, more so than some, and she didn’t make a practice of prying into someone else’s business. But she wanted to know Rick’s. Since when had that begun to matter?
Ever since she’d walked into his porch and discovered that there was much, much more to him than met the eye.
His arm pulled her closer so that she was nestled against his body. It felt good being close to him. She felt safe. Secure.
Josh might have been right after all. She’d promised that if anything happened in the coming weeks that she’d go to Bryce or Tom or Rick if she needed help. She could smell the slightly spicy scent of Rick’s cologne, feel the way he held her close but not too close, and she felt protected. She looked up to see Tom dancing with his new wife, while Bryce held his daughter Alice in his arms. Josh had taken to the floor with their mother.
She wasn’t alone.
She wouldn’t be alone again.
And for the first time since she’d heard the Greers were back in town, she didn’t feel so afraid.
* * *
Rick was relieved to finally let her go.
Her innocent questions hadn’t bothered him in the least. It was refreshing to have someone just ask rather than look at him sideways or get all embarrassed and blush. What he’d struggled with, though, was having her so close to him. Touching her skin and the silky fabric of her dress, the scent of her light perfume surrounding him, the soft sound of her voice and the sweetness of her smile.
Ten years ago, he’d thought she was pretty. Now she was beautiful. Jess had grown from a striking girl to a stunning woman. When she’d been younger, her eyes had gleamed with a spark of devilment and adventure. The same spark was still there, but it was tempered by wisdom and experience.
Rick didn’t know just what had happened to Jess while he’d been gone, but since he’d returned he found himself paying close attention to his best friend’s little sister.
He looked across the room. She was talking to her sister and mother and laughing at something they said. It struck him that no matter how often he saw her surrounded by family and friends, she held something back. He couldn’t quite put his finger on it. She had a great capacity for compassion, but not in all things. Like when he’d shown up to build her shelves and she’d thought he was hungover. There’d been no compassion or understanding then. Why?
Then his gaze traveled to the bar and he clenched his teeth. He swore he could smell the sharp, pungent scent of alcohol across the room. But he’d made a promise. He would not drink tonight. He could manage to scrape together enough willpower to get through this one last hour. Besides, he’d done so well so far. It had been hell at times. He’d bought himself a bottle of rye only to dump it down the sink before he could drink it. Been tempted to head over to The Rusty Fern for a beer just to break the silence in the empty house. But he hadn’t.
He hadn’t.
The bouquet and garter were tossed. Jess hung back, pushed forward into the group of single women but staying on the fringes and he could tell her smile was forced. Summer Arnold caught the bouquet, while Josh caught the garter—funny how the women seemed to lunge forward for the flowers while the men were more content to let the scra
p of elasticized lace come to them. Rick laughed at their antics but he was getting drier and drier and in need of either a drink or an exit.
When someone was jostled by his elbow, their cocktail splashed over their glass and landed on his fingers. The sharp scent of gin rose up and instinctively he put his fingers to his lips.
He had to get out of here. Right now. Jess would have to understand.
She was standing by the mantel, laughing at something Art Ellis was saying and the sight of her, carefree and happy, hit him square in the gut.
He found the bride and groom first, and begged their forgiveness in calling it a night. When Tom furrowed his brow, Rick looked up at him and simply said, “Deliver me from temptation, okay?”
“Okay,” Tom answered, instantly understanding. Well, mostly understanding, Rick thought. The alcohol wasn’t the only temptation he was fighting tonight and both would get him in serious trouble.
He made his way through the crowded room to the fireplace, forced a smile on his lips though the edginess was racing through him now. “Jess, you got a quick sec?”
She put her hand on Art Ellis’s arm and excused herself, taking a step away from the older man who’d once been the caretaker for the house when Marian had been alive. “You should hear the stories that guy tells.” She laughed; her shoulders relaxed. “I can’t tell which ones are true and which are total fabrication. But I enjoy them all.”
He hated to burst her bubble. “Listen, Jess, I gotta go. I just wanted to let you know rather than disappearing.”
The smile slid from her face. “But it’s not even ten o’clock.”
“I know. Are you okay to get home? I know you’re probably not ready to leave the party. I just … I need to get out of here.”
Jess’s gaze turned sharp. “Why?”
He sighed. “I made you a promise about today and I don’t want to break it. And I’m tempted. So it’s better if I just leave. There are too many people. Just too … much.”
He hadn’t realized that before. But crowds, close quarters … they made his anxiety level spike. And with the anxiety came the need for something to help him relax.
