The Goodbye Bride (32 page)

He was trying to be patient. He really was. He'd stopped by Eden's after church with Lucy's purse, but she'd been sleeping. At least that was what Eden had said. She wouldn't have lied. Would she?

He lost all track of the Red Sox game on Beau's TV. Couldn't even remember who they were playing. Next to him his brother let out a dissatisfied grunt. Aunt Trudy's knitting needles clacked across the room. The savory smell of beef stew hung in the air, turning his knotted stomach.

His phone had been annoyingly quiet all afternoon. Despite its silence he kept checking for texts. He was pulling his phone out for the umpteenth time when he felt a
thwack
to the back of his head.

He turned a dark look on Beau. “Hey . . .”

“Call her already.”

“You told me to be patient,” he said.

“There's patient, and there's stupid.”

“For your information I stopped by before I came here. She's sleeping. I don't want to wake her.” God knew if her night had been like his, she needed it.

He fretted through the rest of the game, finally giving up during the seventh inning stretch. He swung by Eden's on his way home, but there was no answer at the door.

When he pulled up to the Roadhouse, his eyes fell on the empty space where her car was usually parked. A dark, heavy feeling bloomed inside.

No. Not again.
Please, God. I can't take it if she's left again.

Defeat closed in around his neck like a noose as he strode toward Lucy's room. In his mind's eye he could already see the perfectly made bed, the empty closet, the clean dresser. He'd seen it all before. He had trouble swallowing against the hard knot at the back of his throat.

When there was no answer to his knock, he opened her door. She always kept the room picked up, the bed made. He checked the bathroom first, dread tightening the noose. The countertop was empty, her curling iron gone, along with her hair spray and cosmetics.

With anxious feet he moved toward the closet, his heart beating up into his throat. His hand closed over the knob, turning.

At the sight of her clothes his breath rushed out. He gripped the doorframe with trembling fingers, his eyes scanning the closet. There were quite a few empty hangers. His eyes dropped to the floor where her favorite heels were lined up in a neat row.
The tension drained from his shoulders. She'd never leave those behind.

Maybe Eden had brought her over to get a few things. Maybe she needed a few days away. He remembered his own escape last year—the one that had caused all this. Maybe she was just stressed and needing a little space. With everything she'd been through with her memory loss, he could hardly blame her. That didn't make it any easier though.

He treaded upstairs to his apartment, sadness falling over him like a heavy fog. He had to talk to her. He needed to hear her voice and know she was okay.

He pulled his phone from his pocket. She wouldn't answer though. He was sure of it. Just like last time and the time before that. All those familiar feelings washed over him. His hands felt tied behind his back, and the helpless feeling knotted his muscles all over again.

Come on, God. Cut me some slack here.

He unlocked his door and flung it open so hard it bounced against the wall. Something fluttered off the ground, landing at his feet. A sheet of notebook paper, folded in half. He bent down and grabbed it, opening it.

Lucy's neat script filled the page. Equal parts of dread and hope filled him as he began reading.

Dear Zac,

I stopped by to see you before I left town, but you weren't home. I've been all messed up since yesterday, and I know you have been too. You must be as confused as I am. The memory that came back has really thrown me for a loop. I don't know what to think. But I do know
you were telling me the truth when you said you weren't leaving me last year.

I've been praying about this, and I need to go home to Savannah. I have unfinished business to deal with, and I need to do it alone. I have some work to do on me. It will be hard, and I can't tell you how much I'm dreading all the feelings it will dredge up. But I think it will be worth it if it helps me move forward.

I know it's asking a lot, but . . . please be patient with me, Zac. I'm sorry to leave you with only a note and with so many questions, but trust me when I say I don't have any answers for you yet.

I haven't booked my flight back to Maine, but I don't anticipate being gone longer than a couple days. I would appreciate your prayers.

XXOO,

Lucy

Chapter 40

M
agnolia Memorial Gardens was located outside of Savannah to the southwest. Mature trees towered over the grassy landscape, shading the gently rolling hills. Colorful flowers proliferated even in the August heat. Despite the well-manicured setting, the narrow, grass-edged lane winding through the cemetery lent it a country feel.

Lucy hadn't been here since they'd buried her mother, and those memories did nothing to calm the storm welling up inside. She'd never been to her dad's graveside. He'd died while she was away at college, and she hadn't gotten word until several days after his funeral.

Her aunt's arrangements, she remembered now, had been handled from Portland. Audrey had requested no funeral or memorial and only the simplest of arrangements.

It was only a vague sense of direction that led her to the back of the cemetery where the grassy lawn met the woods. Towering pine trees formed a canopy overhead, blocking out the evening sun. She'd arrived last night and had dithered away a whole day, dreading this moment.

She parked the rental alongside the drive and stepped outside. Even though the sun was setting, the heat felt blisteringly hot after the coolness of the car's air-conditioning, and the air was so heavy with humidity it was hard to breathe. The scent of magnolias swept by on a hot breeze.

Lucy wandered around the garden, searching for her family's plots. Her clothes were damp and sticking to her skin by the time she found her aunt's no-fuss marker.

Going by some distant recollection, her eyes wandered back a row to the base of a white pine. She followed the direction of her gaze and stopped at the foot of her mother's grave. Heart pounding, she read the inscription on the flat marker:

G
LORIA
J
EAN
L
OVETT

B
ELOVED WIFE AND MOTHER

N
OV
. 2, 1965—S
EPT
. 19, 1996

G
RACE WAS IN ALL HER STEPS

H
EAVEN IN HER EYES

I
N EVERY GESTURE DIGNITY AND LOVE

A knot formed in Lucy's throat as the marker blurred. She closed her eyes, her mother's image blooming in her mind's eye. The wind whispering through her brown hair, the smile sparkling in her blue eyes, the smell of sunshine and flowers on her soft skin. She breathed in a steadying breath, words clogging her throat, the loss still fresh after all this time. The one person who'd loved her right.

Thank you, Mama.

She bit her lip, helpless against the tears that flowed down her cheeks. Her eyes drifted to her dad's marker, an avalanche of
emotions flooding in. Her feet were rooted to the spot. The walls of her chest closed in, smothering her with their weight. She labored to draw in a shallow breath. Her heart pounded too quickly, and fear sucked the moisture from her mouth.

That cold, dark pit opened up inside, filled with so many emotions she could barely contain them. She was helpless to find words. Lucy Lovett, whose words tumbled too easily from her mouth.

She focused on her mother's marker, not able to think about her dad just yet. She didn't try to stop the flow of tears, just let them come, all of them for her mother.

One thing at a time. One memory at a time.

She wept until she became aware of darkness falling around her, then headed back to the car. Exhaustion weighted her shoulders like a leaden cape. Despite the powerful grip of grief, she was disappointed in herself.

Why did I even come here?

She hadn't even been able to look at her dad's marker, much less process her feelings. She was a coward. She wasn't strong enough to face her past. She pointed her rental toward town as she drew a steadying breath.

She thought of Zac, waiting back in Summer Harbor. Fear swarmed like a hundred angry bees at the thought of going back. Her love for him crippled her. How could she need him so much and be so afraid at the same time? The conflicting emotions swirled in her head until she was dizzy with them.

What if I lose him again?

She well remembered the early days in Portland now. The memories had come flooding back the night of the storm. She'd wept for weeks after she'd left Zac, and after that had moved numbly through her days, her heart broken into a million pieces.
She had never put it back together. Had simply settled for someone less. Someone manageable. Someone she could stand to lose.

Zac was different altogether. She already knew how it felt to be without him. A fist closed around her heart, squeezing tight. She didn't know if she could bear to lose him again.

Zac helped unload the bread, then went to the front and turned down the chairs. Keeping busy was the name of the game. He'd been unsettled since Lucy had left. He'd reread her note a dozen times trying to reassure himself, but nothing soothed the anxiety threading through him.

He hadn't heard from her, and neither had Eden. What if she decided not to come back? It was that thought that had kept him on his feet for the past twenty-four hours, minus six hours of tossing and turning.

Come on, God. Give me something here. A call, a text. Something.

She'd asked for space, and he was trying to give it to her. But a pain had taken up residence in his gut, and his legs were weak and shaky.

This felt too much like last time, despite the note.

He checked the time, then rushed to pull the last few chairs down so he wouldn't be late in Skyping Riley. He'd scheduled the call last week when everything was flowers and sunshine. He always tried to be upbeat, hoping to keep his brother's spirits up, but he was going to have to dig deep today.

He went to his office, pushing next week's schedule aside. He needed to do payroll and make a trip to the bank. He was grateful for things to do.

He opened Skype, and the call came in right on the dot of eleven. A second later Riley's face appeared on the screen. He seemed older, somehow, than he had last time they'd Skyped. He supposed war could do that to a person.

Riley's eyes crinkled at the corners as he gave a two-finger salute, reminding Zac so much of their dad that he felt a pinch in his gut. “Hey, bro. Good to see your ugly mug.”

“How's the military treating you, bud?”

“Aw, not bad. I'm keeping busy. Just finished a game of Madden with the guys. There's a tournament going on.”

“Are you winning?”

“You kidding? There are guys here who are practically professional. It passes the time though.”

“That's true. Before I forget, Aunt Trudy wanted to know if you need anything in particular. She's getting ready to send a care package.”

“God love her. I could use some Chapstick. And I've really been craving your atomic wings. If you could throw in a bottle of that sauce, that'd be great. And candy to give out to the local kids.”

“Consider it done.”

“Thanks, man. How's everyone back home? Roadhouse busy?”

“Ayuh, it's keeping me on my toes. Beau's gearing up for fall activities at the tree farm. Hayrides, bonfires, and stuff. He's got quite a few groups scheduled already.”

AwistfullookcameoverRiley'sface.“FallinSummerHarbor... man, I can almost smell it. Decaying leaves, wood fires, the scent of rain. It's so freaking hot here—over a hundred most days.”

“A dry heat though.”

Riley made a face as he swatted the screen. “That was me, whacking you in the back of the head.”

Zac dredged up a smile. “Didn't feel a thing.”

“So, what's Aunt Trudy up to? I got a letter from her a couple weeks ago, but she doesn't say much about herself.”

“She's slowed down since Lucy started at the visitor center. Guess she's getting a lot of knitting done. I did find out something interesting . . . She and Sheriff Colton used to be an item.”

Riley reared back. “What? When?”

“Back in high school. She told me recently. Sounds like they were pretty serious. Then Colton left for college and things fell apart.”

“How did we not know this?”

“Grandpa didn't approve, so they kept it on the down low.”

“They sneaked around?”

“More or less. I don't know exactly what happened between them, but she has bad feelings toward him.”

“That explains why she's so prickly. Must've been something pretty big to hold a grudge this long.”