Sweet Scent of Forgiveness

by Delia Latham

  Norah smiled and let her gaze roam the sanctuary, taking in all the dear friends and family who’d come to rejoice with her and Dylan on this special day. As they moved closer to the front, Shay came into view, filling the matron-of-honor position with grace. A floor-length gown in deep teal accentuated the lovely, vibrant green of her eyes.

  Bob fidgeted behind his brother. He’d fussed and complained about wearing a tuxedo, but Dylan insisted, despite Norah’s inclination to give in.

  “Why not let him wear a pair of black dress pants with a teal shirt and black tie? That would be fine. There’s no need for him to be uncomfortable, not on my account.”

  “Not a chance. This will be my one and only wedding. I’m wearing the dress uniform of the United States Army. My brother can endure a tux long enough to get through the ceremony.” Dylan shook his head. “It’s not like we’re forcing him to hug a cactus.” He grinned. “The big baby.”

  Norah let it go, but now, a quick glance at Bob’s hands, clasped in front of him, pinched her heart. Poor guy! White knuckles proclaimed his effort to keep them where they were, and not tugging at his collar. Penny must’ve given him a tip or two to get through the torture inflicted by his baby brother.

  Then her gaze met Dylan’s, and she saw no one else until she reached his side.

  “I thought you’d never get here,” he whispered.

  “I was afraid you’d change your mind while you waited.”

  “Not in a million years.”

  The minister cleared his throat. “You two want to tie this knot, or what?”

  “Yes, sir.” Dylan’s shoulders straightened and he all but snapped his heels together.

  Norah nodded, biting back laughter. Her handsome groom had clearly missed the twinkle in the pastor’s eyes.

  “All righty then.” Pastor lifted an amused gaze to the guests. “Who gives this woman in marriage?”

  James cleared his throat. “I’m not giving my sister to anyone. I’m just here to walk her into her new life.”

  “That works, too.” Pastor grinned, and James seated himself next to his boys.

  “Dearly beloved, we are gathered together in the presence of God and these witnesses…”

  ~ Chapter 7 ~

  H

  ER HUSBAND SLEPT BESIDE HER. Norah snuggled close to his side, her head on his shoulder. Never had she experienced such utter contentment.

  Because she’d been totally unable to make love to Chandler, a part of her had worried that she’d disappoint Dylan in the same way on this night. To her delight, there’d been not a moment’s hesitation. Not even a second of uncertainty. She’d given herself to him without reservation. Perhaps the ease of surrender came with true love.

  Now she couldn’t sleep, maybe because her body still buzzed with excitement—from Dylan’s touch, and from the events of the entire day.

  She was married! Mrs. Dylan Bradley… Norah sighed and ran a hand over her husband’s arm. He stirred but didn’t awaken. Too bad she couldn’t join him in slumber. Were they so totally one now that they’d share the same dreams?

  With a little giggle at her silliness, she slipped out of bed and headed for the kitchen. Maybe a cup of hot chamomile tea would relax her a bit, ease the strumming of a couple billion nerve endings in her body and allow a little sleep before her new husband awakened.

  She brewed the tea on her shiny new stove and poured it into a delicate china teacup from a set they’d received as a wedding gift. Then she moved into the living room and settled onto the comfortable sofa she and Dylan had chosen together. Tucking her feet up under her, she sipped the hot liquid.

  Since that recent, horrible night when she’d been trapped in a vortex of the past, Norah hadn’t dealt with another backward look. But as she unwound on her first night as Mrs. Dylan Bradley, she found herself once again caught up in a whirlwind of memory.

  Echo City

  Television voices blared through thin walls, and Norah finally drew a full breath. Chandler wasn’t coming to her…not yet anyway. Loud laughter followed. An unintelligible mutter or two. And at long last, a series of drunken snores.

  Reasonably sure he wouldn’t awaken after the snores became room-rattling rumbles, Norah crept out of bed. Without a sound, she packed her few belongings into the same suitcase she’d brought along after the wedding, filled to the brim with high hopes and rose-colored dreams. Somehow, she had to end this mistake of a marriage. A lifetime with a man like Chandler was out of the question. Nor did she want to run back to her brother’s place. Life under Quinn’s roof would age her twenty years in a quarter of the time.

  With everything packed, she returned to bed and drifted into a restless, troubled sleep.

  The strong aroma of French roast awakened her. Despite the previous night’s bender, Chandler was up early. Norah stumbled into the bathroom to brush her teeth and run a comb through her hair before she joined him in the kitchen.

  “Mornin’, babe. Coffee?”

  She nodded and reached for a mug. “Sit down. I’ll fix you some eggs and bacon.”

  “Naw. Not hungry.”

  She sat across from him at the table. He frowned and ran a gentle finger over the dark bruise on her upper arm. “What happened here?”

  Her mouth dropped open. “Oh, no. You don’t get to do that. You know how I got this bruise.”

  His brow knit and he frowned as if genuinely puzzled. “How would I know that?”

  “You don’t remember, huh?” She rolled her eyes. “I don’t suppose you remember dragging me across the room by my hair either, do you?”

  His round-eyed expression could only be described as horrified.

  Norah blinked. Had he seriously lost the entire evening?

  “Norah…no. Please say I didn’t…do…that.” Chandler cleared his throat. A sick chuckle fell flat. “You’re tryin’ to scare me, baby, and it ain’t funny. Tell me you’re kidding.”

  She shook her head. “I’m not. And last night wasn’t the first time.”

  He dropped his head into his hands. A deep sob erupted from his throat. “No! Oh, no. I’m so sorry. I never wanted to hurt you, Norah, I’m just—what’s wrong with me? I don’t know what I’m doing when I’m drunk.”

  “I didn’t even know that was possible—I mean, you seriously forgot everything about last night?” She hesitated. “Dylan, I will forgive you, eventually. I will. But—” Was this a good time to tell him? Maybe not. Probably not, but she had no intention of staying in this house another night. “We jumped into this way too fast. You know that, don’t you? This marriage isn’t working. It never will.”

  He lifted his head and stared at her but said nothing. Tears trailed down his cheeks.

  “I want to leave, Chandler. Today.” Again, she faltered. Bit her lip, almost afraid to go on. But after a deep breath, she lifted her chin and looked straight into his gorgeous eyes. Might as well lay it all out on the table. “We should have the marriage annulled, but we can deal with that later. If I take care of all the paperwork, will you sign it and get it back to me?”

  His chin dropped to his chest. “Yeah, if that’s what you want. You’re too good for me, Norah. I knew it all along, but I thought—” He broke off. Shrugged. “I thought I could change for you. Guess I can’t, huh? I’m a loser, like my daddy always said. A worthless, no good piece of garbage.”

  “No, you’re not.” Norah heaved a sigh. “You listen to me, Chandler Dunn. You have so much good in you. I saw it before we got married. And even after—I mean, I’m sure most men wouldn’t have dealt with my…problem…with such patience and kindness. You could be or do anything you want. You’re handsome and charming. You’re smart.” She laid a hand over his. “You have to stop drinking. Get a job. Do something that makes you proud. Prove your daddy wrong.”

  He looked up. “You really believe I could do that?”

  “If you want to badly enough, I know you can.”

  His jaw hardened and he nodded. “If you believe I can, t
hen I will.” Still, his despondent tone negated the positive words.

  “That’s good.” She managed a shaky smile. “Look, I know it’s a lot to ask, but would you drive me to the bus station in Phoenix?”

  “Yeah, sure.” He leaned in to kiss the bruise on her arm. “I hurt you…oh, Norah! How could I do that? I really am sorry, babe.”

  “I know.” She believed him. Regret rolled off him in palpable waves. “Get help, Chandler. Please do that. Take care of you first before you bring anyone else into your life.”

  “Yeah.” He stood up, rinsed his mug and turned it upside down in the sink. “I suppose you’re already packed.”

  “I am.”

  “Then let’s get it over with.”

  He carried her suitcase to his truck and opened the door for her. They didn’t say much on the half-hour drive from Echo City to Phoenix, but he held her hand until they reached the bus station.

  “Thank you for bringing me, Chandler, but don’t get out, okay?” She leaned across the seat and kissed his cheek, then opened her own door. “It’ll be easier like this. You go on home now.”

  He nodded once. “You’re too good for most men. Don’t let anyone like me anywhere near you, ever again. Take care of yourself, Norah Dunn.”

  “Norah Perlman.” She corrected him gently. “And that’s what this is about. Me taking care of me. Now, you take care of you.” She climbed out of the truck, grabbed her suitcase, and lifted her gaze to his one last time. “Chandler, I’m…really sorry that I couldn’t…you know.”

  “Don’t sweat it, sweetheart.”

  Norah allowed her gaze to travel his face once more. The sad, slightly crooked smile. Boldly chiseled jawline. Thick, dark, wing-shaped eyebrows that most women would die for. She’d once told him he looked remarkably like TV-hunk Ian Somerhalder…except for those copper eyes. The hopelessness etched into his perfect face nearly undermined her determination to get away.

  But not quite.

  She watched until the truck disappeared down the road, and then made her way inside the depot. At the desk, a bored-looking older woman with gray hair in a tight bun looked up from a paperback book. “Where ya goin’, hon?”

  “Wherever the next bus ends up.”

  “Las Cruces, New Mexico. You can get off there or sit it out for an hour and go on to Ruidoso. That’s the end of the route, and they’re boarding now. So, what’s it gonna be?”

  Norah traded almost half the money she’d socked away for a ticket to Ruidoso. She relinquished her suitcase to be stowed away, climbed aboard and took the furthest seat in the back. Maybe she could make up for the sleep she’d lost the past few nights. The ticket agent said she had a twelve-hour ride ahead of her.

  She’d never heard of Ruidoso, New Mexico, and had no idea what lay ahead. Was it a big town or a community built around an intersection in the middle of nowhere? She rested her head against the seat and closed her eyes. What did it matter? The location wasn’t important—as long as it wasn’t Echo City, Arizona.

  Ruidoso

  From the curb outside Roswell International Air Center, Norah watched her new husband disappear into the airline terminal. Her wet cheeks and trembling lips bespoke the depth of pain in her soul. Two years before he came back home? How could she live so long without him? Dylan owned her heart. His departure left an empty, yawning hole inside her chest. Every breath pounded pain through every atom of her being.

  They’d spent an idyllic two weeks together after the wedding, and she cherished every precious moment, each wonderful memory. Though it hadn’t seemed possible, she’d fallen even further in love during that time. Watching Dylan walk away—tall, straight-backed, crazy-handsome in his uniform…she wondered if her heart might rip right out of her body and race after him.

  She plodded through the following days, disconnected and often unresponsive.

  Shay assured her she’d be fine, but she was wrong.

  Three weeks after Norah’s young soldier returned to duty, a bomb on a dusty Afghanistan road blasted all her hopes and dreams to literal smithereens. The explosion killed Dylan and three other soldiers in an instant. She’d never again see her husband’s slow, sweet smile, never feel his fingers wrapped around hers, or the touch of his lips against her own.

  On autopilot, she made it through the endless services and gatherings that tradition deemed necessary after a death. Within a week, she remembered few details about any of it.

  She’d been tired and listless much of the time, and that suited her fine. Not feeling well gave her an excuse—of which she took full advantage—to stay in bed with the lights out and the curtains closed.

  This morning, someone intruded into her dark cave with a soft clatter of keys.

  “Go away.” Norah pulled the covers over her head. “Let me be.”

  “Not until you get out of that bed.” Shay opened the blinds and bright sunshine poured into the stuffy bedroom. “I won’t allow you to lie here and waste away.”

  “You can’t stop me!” Norah snapped. “And close those blinds.”

  “Norah. Honey, don’t—”

  She bolted upright, threw the covers to her feet and let loose a scream that shook the walls. “Dylan is dead, Shay. So am I. So just…g—go.” Her voice broke, but she did not cry. No tears remained to be shed—at least for now. “Please, please, leave me alone.”

  Shay sat on the edge of the bed. “Well, I hope that little hissy fit made you feel better for the moment. As for me leaving you alone, I can’t do that. You wouldn’t, if the roles were reversed. As a friend—and your self-proclaimed surrogate mother—I cannot and will not leave you here like this. Now, please, get up and have a shower while I fix you something to eat. How about scrambled eggs with toast, orange juice and coffee? I would suggest a more complicated menu, but you’ve barely eaten for a whole month, ever since you received word about Dylan. You need something easy on the tummy.”

  She opened her mouth to scream ‘Go away!’ but stopped before another bout of self-pity took over her better sense. Even in her deep sorrow at losing Dylan, something inside her—the tiny part that wasn’t withering away of utter heartbreak—knew she’d never get through this alone. Shay had been friend, sister, mentor, and now, mother to Norah. The simple truth was, she needed the older woman more than ever. Yet she was treating her like a child’s toy, to be thrown against the wall and shattered in a fit of temper.

  Shay headed for the door. “Come on, now. Get up. Why don’t you hop in the shower while I get your breakfast? I promise it’ll make you feel so much better.” She smiled and reached for the doorknob, prepared to leave Norah in privacy.

  “Shaaay!” The word wavered like the wail of a lost child.

  “What is it, hon?” Shay whipped around, concern etching a line across her forehead.

  Hitching a shaky breath, Norah jumped up and rushed across the floor to throw her arms around her friend. “I’m sorry. I don’t mean to be a brat. I just—oh, God!” Half prayer, half hopeless desperation, the plaintive outcry ripped itself from her throat, leaving raw, stinging pain behind. “It hurts so much!”

  “Shhh. Of course it hurts, sweet girl. Dylan is gone, far too soon, and it’s not fair. But that young man loved you with all his heart. He’d want you to focus on how blessed you were to have had each other for a little while, instead of dwelling in sorrow because you don’t have him still.” Shay stroked Norah’s hair. “Remember the old Alfred, Lord Tennyson quote? ‘’Tis better to have loved and lost than never to have loved at all.’ It really is true, you know.”

  Norah shook her head. “Tennyson must never have lost anyone dear to him. Right now, I only seem capable of being so sad I can barely breathe.”

  “It’s okay, honey. You need to grieve. But don’t get lost in it, or you’ll miss out on all that God still has planned for the rest of your life.”

  She sniffled, but granted her sweet friend a grudging nod, and then stepped away. “Let me get a shower. You’re right. By now
, I’m sure I stink as badly as Lazarus did coming out of that tomb.”

  Shay’s laughter brightened a little corner of Norah’s aching heart. “Well, I must admit you’ve had more fragrant days.”

  A little chuckle burst through Norah’s lips. “Oh!” Her eyes widened, and one hand flew to cover her mouth.

  Shay smiled. “See how God takes care of us? Laughter is the best medicine, sweet girl. Don’t ever feel guilty for laughing, no matter how dark the clouds in your personal sky. Reviving our sense of humor is God’s way of reminding us we’re still alive.” She touched Norah’s cheek. “Even when those we love are not. You’re going to be all right, Norah.”

  She nodded and spun away. “Shower time.”

  Head bowed, arms crossed over her chest, she allowed the steaming water to flow over her head and drip off her nose and chin right along with her tears.

  God, I do trust You. I know You have a reason for everything You do, but…what possible good could come of taking Dylan? He was the best thing that ever happened to me. She lifted her face to stare at the ceiling. “Why? Why, Father?”

  She longed to sink to the floor and stay there until her body shriveled into a human prune, but Shay was waiting downstairs. Norah admitted while she dressed that, once again, her friend’s words proved true—she almost felt life returning to her being after the hot shower.

  Shay greeted her in the kitchen with a cup of steaming coffee. “Sit. Everything’s ready.” She slid a plate in front of Norah and sat across from her with one of her own. “I decided to join you. Hope that’s all right.”

  “Of course.” Norah picked up her fork. “But I’m not sure how much I can eat. I hate that you went to all this trouble.”

  “Eat what you can, sweet girl. But I think once you take a bite or two, you’ll find your appetite waking right up.”

  “Maybe.” She managed a wan smile. “I’ll try.”