An April Bride (3 page)

Marshall stared at the pretty woman sitting at his side and wished he could take away her pain. She’d grown so shocked and silent when he’d told her the truth, that he thought they might need to cancel the wedding.

“Maybe,” he finally said there underneath the great oak, “maybe we can go on as planned.” Then he suggested something he knew was crazy. Taking her hand, he traced a finger over her palm. At least that gesture seemed familiar. “Can you give me a few weeks? The doctor said I might get my memory back in pieces or all at once. I’d like to try.”

Stella didn’t respond at first. But after a couple of minutes she nodded and wiped at her eyes. Finally her expression changed from confused and hurt to strong and resolved. “I’d like to try too. Three weeks? Is that enough time?”

They’d never have enough time. But he didn’t voice that thought. “It’s a good start. But if you think we should go ahead and cancel the wedding—”

“I don’t. I mean, we’d have to pay for everything anyway. That doesn’t matter right now. I believe with all my heart that you love me and that you know me in your heart. I’m willing to go on faith that you’ll remember me before the wedding.”

He smiled over at her. “Mom and Dad told me you’d be stubborn about this. They also told me that you were the
woman God had picked to be my wife. I’ve held on to that, Stella. I need you to keep fighting. I need you to believe in us too.”

“Your parents are right,” she said through a sniff. “I won’t give up easily. You and I were meant to be together. This is just a setback, nothing more. A test of our endurance, of our love.”

He took her hands in his and felt a stirring in his soul. “I’ll pray for that too. And I’ll do my best to make that happen.”

“It’s all we can ask for,” she said. “You’re the only man I’ve ever loved and . . . I won’t take that lightly.” She stared down at their hands. “Before, you moved your finger across my palm. Marsh, you’ve always done that. Since . . . forever. It was your little way of telling me you loved me.”

She turned his hand over and touched her fingers to his palm. “Remember this, okay?”

Marshall gained a strong respect for his fiancée. And somewhere inside his buried memories, he saw a shard of light piercing through. He’d heard her tell him that before.

Please, Lord, help me to remember this sweet woman. Help me to see her with new eyes, but also bring back my memories of her
.

He’d seen pictures of them together and wished with all his heart that he could remember being with her. He’d dreamed about this same woman when he was in and out of consciousness. He did remember that. But the dream had been vague and just out of reach, and it had happened after his parents told him about Stella and shown him her picture.

He turned to her now, hoping to take away some of her shock and grief. “I did have this dream about you, about us. You were laughing. I think we’d gone on a walk.”

She gasped, then nodded. “We like to take long walks along the river. On the levee.” Excitement colored her words. “You proposed to me there, right near the gate to Flower Bend—my parents’ house.”

She lifted her left hand and held it out to him. “See. You gave me this ring. It belonged to your grandmother.”

Marshall stared down at the solitaire diamond set against an intricate filigree gold band. Something flashed through his mind. The face of another woman.

“I . . . I remember Granny. I do. She had dark hair and she was petite.” He smiled, glad to have something to hang on to. “She’s dead, isn’t she?”

Stella nodded again, her eyes misty but hopeful. “Yes. She passed away two years ago. I went to the funeral with you, right before you left for your first deployment.”

He remembered a beautiful hymn. “ ‘Love Lifted Me.’ ”

“They played that during the service.”

He gave Stella a reassuring smile. “See, being with you has already brought back some memories.”

“I intend to bring all of them back,” she said, wiping at her eyes again. Then she glanced over at him. “What . . . what should we tell everyone?”

“I don’t know,” he said. “Mom told me we’re having a big party this weekend. I don’t know if I’ll remember anyone.” And he hoped he wouldn’t have one of his flashbacks.

Stella put a hand to her mouth. “Oh, I’d forgotten about your homecoming party. We’ve been planning that for months too. Your friends want to see you. Your best man—” She stopped, dropped her hand back onto her lap.
“Do you remember Nick Prescott? You and he are best friends. You played football together.”

“Mom showed me his picture,” Marshall replied. “I think I remember a little bit. Did he and I get in trouble once for taking the four-wheeler and getting it stuck in the swamp?”

“Yes, when you were fifteen. Yes.” Her smile rivaled the sunshine piercing through the trees. “That’s good that you remember that. He’s your best man.”

“Okay. I think I can recognize him from the pictures.”

“I’ll show you our high school yearbook. That should help.”

He nodded. “Stella, I want you to show me everything about our wedding too, okay?”

She sent him a perplexed glance. “What do you mean?”

“I want to know the details. Mom said you wrote to me in Afghanistan every week, and I have the letters in my duffel bag. But I was afraid to reread them. I wanted to wait and see—”

“If you could remember me when you saw me?”

“Yeah.”

“I’ll include you in everything about the wedding. I did tell you all about planning it in my letters, but showing you might shake out some more memories.”

“Or create new ones,” he said, his heart warming to her enthusiasm and hope.

They talked a few more minutes. He listened while she gave him details of living in rural Louisiana, then they got in the little car and headed home. Marshall decided even if he couldn’t remember Stella, he certainly could enjoy getting
to know her again. She was a sweetheart—charming, polite, and smart.

What more could a man ask for?

She pulled the little car into the driveway of a two-story brick house. “This is where you grew up, Marsh. You’re finally home.”

He glanced at the neat yard and the long front porch. Why couldn’t the memories come back?

“I won’t be home until I remember this place . . . and you.”

Then he got out of the car and stood staring at the past he’d lost.

T
wo days later, Stella watched as Marshall strolled around his parents’ backyard and stopped to talk to friends who’d dropped by to welcome him home. She’d gone over names and matched them with pictures of friends who would be there today, as well as everyone in the wedding party. His best man and two other attendants, her maid of honor and two more bridesmaids, the flower girl, the ring bearer, and several other wedding helpers were all here. She’d even shown him pictures of their caterer, her best friend Rhonda Guthrie, some old friends of her parents, and anyone else she could think of.

Had she helped him or confused him?

“How you holding up?” Rhonda asked, handing Stella a fresh cup of tea punch. After dropping Marshall off at his home, Stella had immediately called her close confidante, asking for advice.

“I’m better,” Stella admitted. “It was so hard, realizing that he didn’t remember me. But he’s trying. He’s a fast
learner, that’s for sure. His mind is still almost photographic when presented with something new. He can remember the names that go with the faces, thanks to our flashcard game the other night.”

Rhonda touched a hand to her short, white-blonde hair. “According to Miss Kitten, you’re doing exactly what needs to be done to help him. You’re being very brave and strong.”

“I’m not so strong, and I’m certainly not brave,” Stella replied. She watched the man she loved and prayed the same prayer she’d been reciting for days now. “I hope he’ll find his way back to me. I’ve asked God to please help Marsh.” She glanced over at her friend.

“What if God doesn’t answer that prayer? Am I to assume he doesn’t want me to be with Marsh?”

Rhonda touched her hand to Stella’s shoulder. “I believe everything will turn out all right, no matter what happens.”

Stella tried to find comfort in that. “I want to marry him. I want to have the life we’ve planned together. I love him, and I’m determined to make him love me again.”

Rhonda gave her a quick hug. “That’s exactly what I’m praying for too.”

Stella decided she would keep praying. Right now, just being near Marsh made her happy.
He’s alive
, she told herself.
He’s home and safe. We will have the life we’ve planned
.

She closed her eyes in a silent prayer, and when she opened them Marsh was looking at her from across the lawn. Stella smiled and waved. He excused himself from the people he was with and came toward her.

“Hi,” he said, grinning down at her.

“Hello.” She’d never felt awkward around Marsh before,
but knowing he might not want to marry her had put a whole new spin on her actions and reactions. The awkwardness they’d felt at first, however, was slowly changing to a kind of shyness that, while still different, was much more bearable.

“How’s it going?”

The light in his eyes dimmed. “It’s weird, hard to deal with, but I’ve managed to slip inside and get myself together when I start to panic. I hope I haven’t insulted anyone by not remembering them.” He shrugged. “Mom and Dad have kind of prepared everyone now that you know. I . . . I didn’t want you to hear it from anyone else.”

“I appreciate that. The small-town grapevine can be cruel sometimes.”

“I’d never be cruel to you,” he said.

She accepted this because even without his memories he was a gentleman. Was that why he hadn’t stopped the wedding? Did he feel a duty even if he didn’t feel any love for her?

“Your new memories seem to be sticking with you,” she said to encourage him and calm her own fears. “You know, I always envied you and your amazing memory when we were in school. You’d get a whole history lesson without taking a note. And I’d have to study every night just to get by, even in college.” She stopped, images of them studying together clouding her mind with a sweetness that hurt. They’d decided to wait and get married after he’d been in the Army for a year or so. Now she wished they’d gotten married between his deployments. “You helped me study, and that’s why I passed.”

“But you’re a smart woman,” he pointed out. “Without your help, I wouldn’t know any of these people.”

Stella studied the people mingling around the pretty
backyard where she’d spent so much time. The Henderson home wasn’t as historical or spacious as Flower Bend, but she’d always loved the square backyard with the comfortable swing underneath an old oak. “Everyone here loves you, Marsh. The minister, the church choir, your old baseball and football buddies. Even ornery old Mr. Turner from the grocery store—you worked there part-time almost all the way through high school.”

He looked toward the elderly gentleman sitting in one of his mother’s white rocking chairs. “He is a character. He’s a veteran. Served in World War II. I had a good talk with him, but I had to speak in a loud voice so he could hear me.”

“Yes. He’s lost his hearing, but that’s no surprise since he’s turning ninety at the end of the year.”

“I hope I live that long.” He gazed over at her. “I’ve been given a second chance, so I hope I can make the most of it.”

Stella nudged him with her elbow. “Hey, you were a good man before you left to serve our country, and I believe you’re still a good man. No matter what happens with us, that will never change.”

“Thanks,” he said, his grin back. “My dad told me another thing about you.”

“What’s that?”

“He told me you were a good woman.” He chuckled. “He said, ‘Son, even if you can’t remember her, Stella is the girl for you. You couldn’t ask for a sweeter, prettier, kinder woman to spend your life with.’ ”

Stella met his gaze and felt a soothing warmth move through her like a glowing beacon. Marsh’s eyes flared with that same warmth. Did he feel it too?

She had to swallow to keep from bursting into tears. “That’s so sweet of your daddy. I think he embellished my credentials, though. I’ve been known to throw a hissy fit now and then.”

“I’d like to see that, but not directed at me, of course.” He leaned down and whispered in her ear. “But I believe my dad was telling the truth.”

She couldn’t speak, so she just nodded and blinked back the tears that had seemed ever present the past couple of days. “I want to make you a good wife,” she finally said.

“Are we getting married in the church?” he asked, the shyness chasing away that sweet moment they’d just shared.

She squelched her disappointment and nodded again. “Yes, we’ll have the formal ceremony there, then we’ll go back to my parents’ house for the reception.” She pointed to a couple visiting with her parents. “Mike and Jackie Tatum own a tent company. They’re in charge of all the decorations for the reception at Flower Bend.”

“Flower Bend?”

Another arrow of agony pierced her heart. “My home. I mean, the place where I grew up.”

“Where is that?”

Stella reminded herself to be patient. “A few miles from here. On the river road. It’s a big Victorian house, and it’s been in my family for over a hundred years.”