The Heart's Ashes

Book III of
Dark Secrets

First Edition
for ePub

Text © 2012
Angela M. Hudson

Cover Image ©
Shutterstock

Cover font © A.
M. Hudson

Smashwords Edition

License Notes

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Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author.

This is a work of fiction. Characters, names, places, events
or incidents are products of the author’s imagination. Any
resemblance to actual people, living or dead, or to places or
incidents is purely coincidental.

This book is
dedicated to all who have read the first books and loved them.

Your support
and, in some cases, friendship has guided me through the darkest
days of writing and shown me where that ‘inner’ strength was
hiding. Without your kind words, love and support, those dark days
would have been darker.

“
When love
dies, the heart’s ashes do not

leave on the
wind—they rest on the mantelpiece

of the soul,
darkening the sunrise

we once saw to
be beautiful.”

Chapter
1

If I closed my eyes
and listened to the hum of the day, I could imagine, as we rolled
through the streets toward the old church, that it was sunny and
the day was bright and airy.

But the truth cannot
be veiled from the eyes.

Dark clouds
shrouded the blue sky like a cumulus bowl, and though the dreary
nakedness of winter was hidden under lush foliage, the town didn’t
look pretty, like it normally did. It only looked grey and muddy
and miserable.

When I awoke
this morning to the spring day, the sun was shining through my
window, bringing with it the warmth and happiness of moving on.

But all that
changed when I left my heart with the rose.

“
You nervous, honey?” Dad asked.

“
Honestly?” I looked out the car window. “I’m
calm.”

He roughly
scratched his chin as he took a breath. “I feel like I rushed you
into this.”

I smiled
softly, exhaling. “You did.”

“
Ara—”

“
No, I’m okay.” I let him take my hand. “I do love him, Dad.
I’ll get used to the idea of marriage.”

“
Oh, honey. Why didn’t you tell me you weren’t
ready?”

Because you wouldn’t let me go back to Perth unless I was
married
. “It’s not a big deal, Dad.
I
want
to marry
him—one day—it might as well be now.”

“
No, honey, it doesn’t work like that. You marry because you
want to. Not because you
plan
to.”

I chuckled
once. “It’s fine. Really. If I didn’t want to marry Mike, I’d have
told you.”

“
You just did.”

“
No.” I laughed again, shaking my head. “I said I
wasn’t really ready
—not
that I don’t want to.”

“
Oh, Ara. I’m sorry.” Dad cupped his palm across his mouth and
closed his eyes for a second. “I just—I didn’t want you to move
back to Perth and...and fall pregnant—unmarried.”

“
Dad!”

“
I know, I know. I’m sorry.” He raised both hands. “I didn’t
want to see you make the mistakes your mother and I
made.”

“
Dad—” I slid closer and linked my arm through his. “I’m going
to make mistakes, and yeah, this could be one of them—but how will
I know what my mistakes are if I never make them?”

Dad looked up
and laughed. “Now who’s the All-knowing?”

“
Might say I inherited that from you.”

The car pulled
up to the curb, and we both exhaled slowly. “But, you do want to
marry him, don’t you?”

My heart raced with a mix of excitement and nerves as I
watched everyone walking into the church. “Yeah, Dad. I do.”
I think.

I rested a
hand to my chest, shivering when a cold breeze swept across my face
as the driver opened the door. A growl of thunder roared across the
sky, and as Emily and Alana stepped out of the car in front of us,
we all looked up.

Great. A
storm. I hate storms.

The fresh,
sugary scent of rain hid within the clouds, just waiting to find
the small sliver of happiness I owned, and pour on it.

Dad, standing
beside the driver, offered me his hand, and the weight of my dress
fell instantly around my white ballet-flats as I stood up—no
ruffling needed to fix the folds. “You okay, Ara?” he asked.

Before I could
answer, the wind rushed in to steal my veil, but I caught it and
held tightly.

“
Looks like rain,” the driver said.

No kidding.
Everything under the greying sky looked richer in colour, with more
vibrant, deeper hues; the greens were dark, the white church,
brighter, and the rich burgundy of spiky plants lining the
cobblestone path looked blood-coated.

“
Rain is good luck on your wedding day,” Dad said.

God, I hope
so. A single ray of sunlight broke through the clouds then, and
shone down on a sign near the car park that said “exit.”

Funny. Very
funny.

But, my
optimist mind ignored the miserable day and the uncanny, cliché
warnings, and I looked at Dad, patting his collar and pockets
frantically. “Everything okay, Dad?”

“
Ara—I’m sorry. I forgot the flower.”

“
It’s okay.” I looked at the buttonhole of his jacket, where
he should’ve had a yellow rosebud. “No one will notice.”

“
Here you go, sir.” The driver stepped up and placed the rose
from his own jacket into Dad’s.

“
Well, thank you, Byron,” Dad beamed. “You’re a real life
saver.”

As Dad stepped
back and turned to face me, my mouth dropped in disgust.

Red! Not
red!

“
Dad—” I started, but the driver smiled at me so warmly that I
couldn’t speak—didn’t have the heart to tell him to get that thing
out of here and destroy it. I swallowed back the tears
instead.

Why red? There
wasn’t supposed to be any red today.

“
Everything all right, Ara?” Dad gently grabbed my arm and
walked me onto the grass just as the bell atop the old church
tolled once; everyone in the yard looked up.

“
Sorry,” two young boys shouted down from the small rectangle
window.

“
Don’t they know that’s bad luck?” a woman scoffed as she
headed up the path to the church, her heels clicking on the soft
stones.

My stomach
sunk.

“
Well, I’ll just move this car and park it ‘round the side.”
The driver smiled, and as he opened his door, the ring of a
familiar tune on the radio brought my shoulders up around my ears.
Providence—the song David dedicated to me by the lake, so, so long
ago. My smile dissolved.

“
Ara? What’s wrong, why are you so pale?” Dad leaned around to
look at my face.

“
Dad, I think—I think I’m making a mistake.” I stared ahead,
not really looking at anything.

“
Oh, honey.”

“
Hey-you-two,” Emily beamed, but stopped dead. “Ara? What is
it?”

“
Cold feet.” Dad chuckled.

I glared at
him. This is no time to laugh. What am I doing? I can’t go in
there—I can’t marry Mike. I’m still in love with David. I’ve been
searching for signs all day—something to make me stop, to change my
mind—but I don’t need a sign. I know the truth in my heart.

“
Let me talk to her,” Emily said and grabbed my
hand.

Dad signalled
to Vicki and whispered “Stall.”

With my dress
weighing me down, I fought to find oxygen in the air as Emily
dragged me across the road. We stopped on the lawn outside the
nursing home, right where we could hear the quiet chatter of
admiring grannies on the porch.

“
Ara? What is it?” She leaned closer, half looking back at the
church.

“
David.”

“
What about him?”

“
I love him.”

“
I know, but—”

“
I can’t promise my heart to another man. Not when it still
belongs to someone else. How is that fair?”

“
Fair? Fair for whom?”

“
To Mike, Em. I love him, but I’ll never be his true love. If
I marry him, he loses all hope of ever having a love like I had
with David. I don’t think that’s fair.”

“
Ara, he loves
you
that way.”

“
But it’s not reciprocated—not like it should be.”

“
Yes, it is—you said you love him.”

“
I do. I really do. But it’s a different kind of
love.”

“
Then why did you say you’d marry him?”

“
I—” I closed my eyes. “I felt confused. I want to marry him,
want to have his babies and be with him always, more than anything.
But if I’d never known true love—with David—I’d never’ve known any
different. But now...”

Emily took a
deep breath and looked over her shoulder. “Ara. Mike’s waiting for
you. He’s in there right now, waiting for you to marry him, because
he loves you—like you love David. That’s enough for him. He knows
how you feel.”

“
I know, Em. But I feel like I’m cheating him out of ever
feeling the beauty of true love.”

“
He feels it, Ara.” Emily laughed. “
Trust
me, he feels it.”

I shook my
head.

“
Ara, you’ll break his heart. If you do this now, it’ll kill
him. You can’t leave him at the altar.”

“
I know, Em—but I can’t marry him either.”

“
Then you should at least tell him. I’ll go get him.” She
turned and took a step away.

“
Wait!” I grabbed her arm. “Just wait.”

She stepped
back beside me, wearing a smug grin.

“
Does he really? I mean, is he happy to have only half a heart
for the rest of his life?” My tone rose upward.

Emily
moistened her lips. “Ara, you have no idea how much that boy loves
you. You’d be a fool not to marry him.”

Exhaling
deeply through my nose, I looked at the church once more. Mike’s
mum and Vicki stood on the steps at the entrance, watching us.

Emily’s right.
I swallowed hard and squared my shoulders. I can’t leave him at the
altar. It’ll destroy him if I do that. I know I should marry
him—but why doesn’t it feel right? “Okay.” Running my fingers over
the delicate silver and yellow cherry blossoms on my wedding dress,
I let the gristly feel of the embroidery ground me for a moment,
then nodded at Em. “I’m all right. I’ll be fine.”

“
Just remember, Ara, you’re not walking down the aisle in
front of all those people, you’re walking to Mike. Just focus on
that.”

“
Thanks.”
Somehow, that makes me feel
worse.

“
All ready then?” Dad asked, offering his arm as we stepped up
on the grass in front of him.

“
Yep.”
I think.

“
Here we go, then.” Emily grinned, straightening the
shoe-string straps on her yellow dress.

We waited
under the eaves of the church roof, shaded from the white glow of
sun on grey clouds, as Em and Alana straightened my dress, tidied
my veil, and I listened to the sound of people settling into wooden
pews. When the doors opened and music filled the air, the girls
stopped fussing, filing together to take the steps, leaving Dad and
I at the base where no one could see us.

Quiet whispers
of admiration hummed over the music, but no laughing, which meant
Alana obviously managed to walk okay in those shoes. Then, the
volume of the song increased; I took a deep breath.

“
That’s our cue.” Dad patted my hand, which tightened around
his arm.

“
Dad—”

“
Yeah?” His blue eyes held the icy colour of
concern.