Team Bride (9 page)

Corbin’s wife would never have someone to disappear with like that. He was the only son, and the twins would always be a twosome.

He slid his arm across the back of Sarah’s chair and leaned closer to her soft blond hair. “You okay?” he whispered.

She flashed him a quick smile. “I’ll be fine.”

Now why didn’t she sound convincing? “Want to make a quick getaway right after dinner? We don’t have to stay for the video or cake.”

He felt her stiffen slightly. “I don’t want to ruin everyone’s evening.”

“If you’re sure.”

Sarah nodded slightly.

She was right. The worst was likely over and, besides, he always got a chuckle out of the Double D wedding video.

He cupped his hand on her shoulder. “You’ll see the first time I played on Team Groom. I was cute.”

She sent him another small smile. “I can’t imagine anything else.”

“I can borrow it from Aunt Deb and show you some other time if you’d rather.” The thought had merit. “We’ll pop up a big bag of popcorn and watch it out at my place. Or yours.”

“Corbin.” She placed her hand on his leg. “Don’t worry. It’s all a bit overwhelming, but I’m an adult. It’s okay.”

He stared at her tanned tapered fingers against the black of his dress pants. That one right there — he ran his thumb down the length of it — would look terrific with a diamond on it.

The thought brought with it roiling emotions. Desire, protectiveness, and yes, a bit of fear.

He covered her hand and squeezed as he leaned into her hair. “I love you,” he whispered.

“Earth to Cory!” Laughter rang out around the table at Michelle’s jab.

“Still true,” he murmured against Sarah’s hair before facing his sister. “Yes? Someone called from outer space?”

“Nice one, Cory.” Amanda reached across the table for a high-five, but that would mean disconnecting from Sarah, and that wasn’t happening. He waggled his eyebrows at his sister instead.

Amanda rolled her eyes and sank back to her seat.

“Cory?” whispered Sarah.

He shrugged. “Childhood nickname that reappears occasionally.”

“Cute.”

He couldn’t tell if she meant it or not. Unlike a Morrissey, she didn’t hang every thought out on the clothesline for the world to hear and see. That had advantages and disadvantages.

Corbin rubbed that one special finger against his leg again. The Morrisseys and Shawnigans might be loud, but they were loyal, too. When they found love, they didn’t let go. He’d bet the Double D had their share of arguments. His own parents had certainly indulged in more than one shouting match behind closed doors. Yet here they were.

Amanda had left Mark once and landed back on their parents’ doorstep. Mom had marched them down to the church for counseling, and they’d worked things out.

Corbin was under no illusions. Marriage wouldn’t always be kisses and diamonds, sunshine and roses. But the rewards would be worth wading through the storms and thorns.

Would Sarah agree?

Chapter 10

A wedding video would have to be easier to endure than that family dinner with everyone screeching like magpies. Corbin’s sisters were probably very nice, but did they have to amp up the volume every time one told a story over top of the other?

The relative quiet of the basement family room soothed Sarah. Just a few more hours, and they could return to Riverbend. Corbin would have had his family outing, and she wouldn’t have embarrassed him. Well, that was likely impossible, but at least she wouldn’t have embarrassed herself. She wanted them to like her. Really, she did, but she’d never be able to fit in.

The room was packed with bodies. Sarah sat on the fuzzy carpet beside Corbin, leaning against a padded ottoman. He held her hand in both of his, the length of his body pressed against hers. With his rock-steady comfort, she could survive.

Don slid the disc into the player and fumbled around with the remote control until Amanda grabbed it from his hands and pressed a few buttons.

Deb leaned over to Sarah. “We had the old video formatted onto a DVD several years ago, along with our favorite photos of our big day.”

Sarah smiled back over her shoulder. “What a great idea.”

The first snapshots projected, bigger than life, on a 60” TV screen. Sarah frowned. Something about the bride and groom looked vaguely familiar. Had Sarah seen that lacy white gown with poufy sleeves before? Corbin’s aunt hadn’t been a tiny woman even twenty-five years ago, and she liked her hair just as big now as she had then. Maybe it was just that she still looked like the same woman.

A few photos later, shots of the entire wedding party came onscreen. Sarah caught her breath and stared. But when the beaming bride crouched beside the nervous flower girl, her gut clenched.

“That’s me,” she whispered.

Corbin leaned closer. “What did you say?”

“I said that flower girl is me.” More photos flowed by. She’d never seen them before, but that didn’t keep her from being certain.

He laughed. “No way.”

“I’m serious.”

Corbin leaned back. “Aunt Deb? Who was your flower girl?”

“A little neighbor girl named Sarah. Why?”

He stared at Sarah, questions in his eyes. “Did you keep in touch with her family?”

“No, sadly. They moved away right after the wedding, and we lost track of them. I heard the parents split up. Wasn’t she sweet, though?”

“Very.” Corbin slid his arm around Sarah’s shoulders and tugged her closer. “Are you sure?” he whispered, clasping her fingers with his free hand.

The actual wedding ceremony came on the screen, now in video. Men in pink ruffled shirts, sparkling cumberbunds, and white tuxedos lined up at the front of the church.

The basement family room seemed devoid of air. Sarah’s world narrowed to the déjà-vu on the screen.

“Positive,” she whispered back as the first of three bridesmaids in pastel pink lace strolled down the aisle. Next, two junior bridesmaids pranced together.

A loud smack off to the side could only be Amanda and Michelle high-fiving each other for the umpteenth time today. “Weren’t we the cutest ever?” asked Amanda.

Sarah’s memories weren’t anywhere near the adorable meter. She tightened her grip on Corbin’s hand.

Then the flower girl appeared, her blond ringlets wreathed in pink flowers that matched her dress. She marched beside the ring bearer and clutched the basket with one hand while scattering pink petals on the orange carpet with the other. The ring bearer bent down and scooped petals back into the basket.

The wedding guests tittered, and he grinned at the attention. A few seconds later he grabbed the basket and swung around, flinging the flowers across the aisle and nearby guests, then waved at the videographer before dragging the flower girl toward the front.

The girl jerked free and stomped her foot.
 

Humiliation washed over Sarah along with the visual. She tried to pull her hand from Corbin’s, but he didn’t release it.

With her face puckered up in tears, the flower girl ran back to the petals and knelt, scooping them in the basket. The two junior bridesmaids followed her more sedately, took her by both arms, and hauled her to the front. Crying.

Everyone in Deb and Don’s family room chuckled. Tears stung Sarah’s eyes in pity for the little girl she’d been.

Everything flooded back to her. All the humiliation. “That was the worst day of my life.” Her words seemed loud in the basement room. “I hated that Cory for years.”

“I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have done that.” He even sounded sincere.

“Sarah, darling, was that really you? How could it be?” Deb patted her shoulder. “We all called him Cory back then. What a small world.”

“I can’t believe this.” Emotion choked Sarah’s throat. “That was such a horrible day. No wonder I’ve avoided weddings.” She glared at Corbin.

“I’m sorry, Sarah. I was only five.” He ducked his head.

The DVD paused.

“You’ve always been this way, haven’t you? Aw, shucks, look at me. I’m cute.”

Corbin spread his hands and looked at her with a pleading expression. “I’m sorry. It’s who I am. I can’t undo the past, or I would.”

Sarah envisioned a lifetime of being the brunt of his jokes. He was still the life of the party, as his mom had said. Sarah had been traumatized enough as a child. She didn’t need to keep going back for more.

“I’m sorry.” From behind them, Deb sounded uncertain. “We don’t have to keep watching it.”

Sarah surged to her feet. “It’s okay. It’s your tradition. Your anniversary.”

“But—”

“No, really. I’ll be fine.” Once she got over her shock, anyway. She stalked on wooden legs to the nearby powder room and splashed water on her face then stared at herself in the mirror. She wasn’t that little girl anymore. The little girl who’d been alone among strangers who laughed at her, and when someone finally delivered her back home, she’d discovered...

Sarah burst into tears as memories poured over her.

Dad had been gone. Mom had the van packed, waiting, and her brother was having a screaming fit in his car seat. Mom unceremoniously strapped Sarah in beside him, still in her fluffy pink dress, and drove all night. They ended up in a distant town where they knew no one then moved several more times before ending up in Riverbend when Sarah was eight.

No one had mentioned Dad since Sarah had cried for him that night. Mom told her to shut up, that he was never coming back and good riddance.

Yes, that horrid day had sucked her into her shell and made it difficult for her to carry on. Was it even why she’d decided to be a teacher? She’d always felt an affinity for little kids who didn’t quite fit in.

She hadn’t fit in all through school. She still didn’t. Her life was a sham. She’d always be alone, a scared child looking in through the window at someone else’s Norman Rockwell life.

Corbin wasn’t her ticket out of that situation. He was the reason she was there in the first place.

* * *

Corbin pressed his ear against the powder room door. All he could hear was the running faucet, and it had been going for five full minutes.

“Sarah?” He knocked again. “Are you okay?”

The door opened so quickly he nearly tumbled into the small space. Sarah stood forlorn, tears streaking her face and both arms wrapped around her middle.

“Sarah.” He reached for her.

She pushed his hands away as she shoved past him. “Please take me home, Corbin. Or never mind. I’ll just get a cab.”

His heart ached. “Let’s go.”

Hurting eyes amid smudged mascara avoided his. “Thank you.” She marched up the stairs to the main floor.

Corbin turned to the family room doorway, where all his relatives sat more subdued than he’d ever seen before. “Sorry to break up the evening. I’m taking Sarah home.”

Aunt Deb surged to her feet. “I’ll come say goodbye and apologize for the wedding. It never occurred to me, all these years, what that poor child must have felt like.”

He hesitated, Sarah’s blank stare still chilling his gut. “Might be best to save it for another time. Thanks, though. I’ll tell her.” Would there ever be another time? He nodded around at his family and followed Sarah up the stairs.

She stood at the front door with her coat on and her purse clutched to her chest. Hadn’t taken her long.

“Sarah?” He touched her arm.

“Please.”

Oh, Lord, the day had started with such promise. What was he supposed to do now? How could he fix something that had happened twenty-five years ago?

* * *

Sarah stared out the truck window. The vibrant autumn leaves dimmed in the gathering dusk. Like life. Headed into nighttime. Headed into winter.
 

Corbin had been all about the peppy praise music on the drive to Castlebrook. They’d talked over it, around it, and about it. Why couldn’t he turn on the stereo now to cover the silence? Maybe he didn’t have any dirges. That was about the only style that would fit.

Her gut, her heart, all of her being felt like one frozen, painful lump. She should’ve known better than to open up to someone, especially a guy like Corbin. Somehow she’d been attracted to fun. Laughter. Dreams of love.

Shuddering, she pulled her arms tighter around her middle, but it was too late to protect herself. The damage was done.

“I love you, Sarah. I’m sorry.”

Sarah shifted slightly in her seat. He’d said that dozens of times in the past hour. She’d ignored him every time. She had to hold strong. Better to rip the adhesive bandage off in one quick move than linger and hope.

The lights of Riverbend gleamed ahead as they rounded the last curve on the mountain highway. Riverbend. It had always been a safe place for her. Now, all she could wish was that the school year was coming to an end and not just beginning, so she could apply for a position in a different district.

Mom had run from her problems, too. Blocked them out. Sarah was like her mother. Nothing new there.

She clenched her jaw as they drove past the car dealerships, then the mall, and finally pulled up in front of the apartment building beside the riverside bike path. One of her hands reached for the seat belt clasp while the other tugged the door handle.

Corbin’s hand covered hers on the buckle. “Sarah.”

She stared straight ahead. “I have nothing to say.”

“Look, I understand why you’re angry, but that happened a quarter of a century ago. I can’t undo the past, no matter how much I’d like to. All I can do is apologize and prove my love for you now, today, is genuine.”

Could she let the past go? His hand on hers warmed her. Terrified her. It wasn’t enough to thaw her entire frozen interior, just enough to feel a little again.

Sarah pushed the button to release the seat belt and yanked her hand out from under his. “Apology accepted.” She shoved the truck door open and slid from the warm interior into the chilly night air.

He bounded around the vehicle and grasped both her hands before she could take more than a few steps. “Thank you, Sarah.”

She pushed him away. “It doesn’t change anything.”

“But—”

“There are no buts, Corbin. I can forgive the little boy.” It would be a whole lot harder to forgive the ignorant behavior of the adults that long ago day. “But don’t you see? You’re still you. I’m still me. We’re too different to make anything work long term.”