An April Bride (4 page)

An awareness lit his eyes. “Mom showed me pictures of that house, but she never told me it had a name. She kept saying, ‘This is where Stella lives.’ ”

“I’m living there until we get married,” Stella said, her tone gentle in spite of the frustration coloring her heart. “I
didn’t renew the lease on my apartment over the bookstore in town where I work.”

He looked confused and . . . almost afraid. “Where are we going to live?”

Stella inhaled a breath. “In the house we bought before you left last year. It’s a little cottage near a park up the road from Flower Bend.”

“In Renaissance?”

“Yes. Did you just remember that?”

He laughed. “I guess I did. Or maybe Mom mentioned that too. That’s the town here, right? Our town.”

“Right.” Stella’s heart surged. “We went to Renaissance High. I manage The Book House on Fifth Street.”

“You always did love books.”

Their eyes met at that declaration.

“Yes. You gave me a new book every year on my birthday. I’ve read all of them twice over.”

“That’s why you’re so smart and wise . . . and adorable.”

Stella wanted to jump up and down and kiss him, but that would bring back the awkward discomfort that volleyed between them. Instead, she took his hand and tugged him toward the table full of food up on the open patio.

“I was so nervous when we first got here, I couldn’t eat. Now I’m starving.”

“Me too,” he said. “But you might have to remind me what some of this food is.”

“Surely you remember crawfish?” she said with a chuckle.

“Spicy, hard-to-peel little critters—and good. So good. Louisiana lobster.”

She laughed again and thanked God for tiny blessings. “That’s right, soldier. And I think I can out-peel and out-eat you by at least a pound.”

“You’re on,” he said, smiling over at her.

Stella gestured toward the long table covered with white plastic where mounds of the strange little crustaceans lay piled up with spicy boiled corn and potatoes. They did look like tiny lobsters, but they were called mudbugs around here.

“Do you remember how to peel ’em and eat ’em?”

He picked one up, pulled off the tail, then discarded the rest of the body—mostly legs. Then he put the tail to his mouth and slipped out the tender, spicy white meat. “I think I do remember that. Amazing.”

Stella thought he was amazing. She’d be terrified if she couldn’t remember anything. He’d told her that at first he didn’t recognize his parents, but after a few days with them, the memories started returning. Now, being home, he recalled familiar things—places, faces, scenes in his head.

Stella wished with all her heart he could remember her, but one step at a time. That’s all she could hope for right now.

The afternoon wore on, and everyone gathered in the backyard for cake and lemonade. When Marshall’s parents asked for everyone’s attention, Marshall took Stella by the hand and moved close.

“I want to thank all of you for coming today to welcome my son home,” Mr. Henderson said, his voice lifting out over the yard. “Kitten and I are blessed and thrilled to have Marshall safe and well. You’ve all heard by now that he’s had some struggles, some wounds that have healed and some
wounds that will take time to mend. We ask for your patience and understanding and your prayers during this time of transition.”

He looked at Marshall and Stella. “These two are determined to have that wedding they’ve talked about since high school. We need your prayers to make that happen.”

Everyone stood silent until a few people shouted, “Amen!”

Stella glanced up at Marshall, her heart stammering and stalling. “You do want to marry me, don’t you, Marshall?”

His eyes held a troubled glint. “I promised you I would,” he said. “I just need you to be patient with me too.”

“I’m trying,” she said. “But if you have any doubts—”

“I have a lot of doubts,” he replied. “And this head wound stuff makes me cranky sometimes.”

“Of course. You must be exhausted.”

He took a long glance around. “I don’t remember some of these people. I’m trying to fill in the blanks, but it’s hard. I don’t want to let anyone down.”

“You only have to worry about yourself and being well again,” she said. “If the wedding is too much pressure—”

“It’s okay. I’ve decided I’m marrying you,” he said, his tone curt now. “If I promised you that, then it will happen.”

Surprised at that determined declaration, Stella nodded. “Not if you don’t want to marry me,” she said, her throat raw with unshed tears. “I won’t force you to do that.”

He tugged her away from the crowd. “I have to do this, Stella. Don’t you see? If I don’t have this wedding to look forward to, to get through, then what’s left for me? I need something solid and sure in my life and . . . you seem to
be so strong and so full of faith that I know God will see us through.”

“I don’t know what to say,” she admitted, her heart torn with agony and empathy for him.

He put his hands under her elbows and gazed into her eyes. “I need someone to be honest with me. And . . . I want that someone to be you. I need you, Stella.”

Stella fell into his arms. “I need you too, Marsh. We’ll figure this out.”

“Thank you,” he said. “And you did promise to include me in all the details of the wedding.”

“I will, starting tomorrow at church,” she said. “I’ll show you the altar where we’ll say our vows.”

He held her away and gave her a hopeful look. “Maybe being back in church will trigger a memory for me.”

“If nothing else, you’ll find some peace there. You still have your faith.”

“Yes.” He closed his eyes for a moment. “I had to keep the faith over there. That foundation held me together.”

Stella thought of all the moments they’d shared in the old church building. She’d relive all of them with him if she had to, because in her heart she’d already promised to stand by him through sickness and health. And now, through the final plans for their wedding.

T
he next morning, Stella waited for Marshall on the church steps. It was a glorious spring day. She could smell the beginnings of the wisteria blossoms that curled around a massive pine tree in the churchyard. A few more weeks and the ancient magnolia trees would be blooming. She loved the lemony-vanilla scent of magnolias. She kept her mind on her surroundings to keep from fretting about Marshall. Would he come to church today?

When she saw his daddy’s white SUV, she breathed a sigh of relief. Marshall was in the backseat.

“Hi,” he said when they reached her. “Thanks for waiting for me.”

Stella greeted his parents and allowed them to go ahead of her and Marshall. “How are you doing today?”

“Okay,” he said. “I slept better. I’ve been having nightmares about the blast. Doc told me that will take time and more therapy.”

“Does it help to talk about it? Or would you rather keep what happened over there to yourself?”

“I don’t mind talking about things I remember, but I guess I’ve repressed the worst of it. My therapist thinks I’ve repressed the best of my memories too. Maybe because I thought I was going to die.”

They were inside the narthex now. People would start greeting them soon. “Marsh, you didn’t die. You’re here with me and your family. You’re safe.”

“I keep telling myself that, but it’s not me I worry about. It’s . . . remembering my friends dying over there. I can’t forget that, no matter how much I talk about it or try to put it out of my mind.”

Stella wanted to reassure him, but some old friends saw them and hurried over to welcome Marsh back. They’d have to save that talk for another time. And she’d need to remember that he’d been through something she couldn’t even comprehend.

Had his suffering triggered some sort of protection mechanism so he could store away the memories of her and the life they’d planned? It broke Stella’s heart to think of such a strong, dependable man being so traumatized that he’d tried to forget both the worst and the best of his life.

She prayed he’d find her constant reassurances comforting. And that her fortitude and determination would be enough for both of them—enough to bring him all the way home.

Marshall saw flashes of memories. Each time that happened he got even more frustrated. His past life seemed there, just out of his reach, but he couldn’t bring many memories to the surface. He didn’t like feeling this helpless.

“Trust in the Lord.”

His mother’s whispered words came floating to the surface. When had she said that to him? When he’d been lying in that hospital in Germany, wondering where he was and even who he was? Had he been trusting in the Lord? Or had he been trying to fix this because he felt he had a duty to Stella and his family to do so? Maybe he did need the Lord instead of trying to do it on his own.

Why couldn’t he remember the woman he was supposed to love?

Was his therapist right? Had he buried the memories of Stella to protect himself and her? While his therapist had gently cautioned Marsh against marrying a woman he couldn’t remember, Marshall had stubbornly refused to cancel the wedding.

In his mind, he knew he was supposed to marry Stella.

The mind could certainly play tricks on a person.

After the service, he waited with Stella to talk to the minister. Reverend Howell had been right there praying for him when he’d first been wounded. He’d offered to come to Maryland with Marshall’s parents when Marshall had been moved to the hospital there, but Marshall hadn’t wanted anyone but family with him during those days.

Not even his fiancée. Because he couldn’t bear the emptiness of lost memories. Because somehow in his heart, he
knew he’d hurt this kind, beautiful woman if he told her he couldn’t remember her.

Now he wanted the opposite. He wanted to soak up everyone in Renaissance and absorb their memories so he could bring back his own. So he could bring a real smile back to Stella’s face.

“Hello, you two,” Reverend Howell said. He pushed his glasses up on his nose and hugged Stella before shaking Marshall’s hand. “So good to see you two together again.”

Stella shot the minister a tentative smile. They’d explained Marshall’s issues to the minister yesterday before the party got started. “I thought maybe if we talked about the wedding, it would help Marsh to feel . . . more comfortable.”

“Let’s go into my study,” Reverend Howell said. “I have coffee and cookies. A gift from a member. And since my wife is always fussing about eating healthy, I certainly can’t take the whole tin home with me.”

“I know I’ve never turned down a cookie,” Marshall said, grinning because he remembered his mom baking a lot.

Once they were settled with the coffee and cookies, Reverend Howell wiped crumbs off his fingers with a napkin and plunged right in. “Marshall, I can’t imagine how you must be feeling these days. You’re all in one piece physically. But your head is still confused, right?”

“Very confused,” Marshall admitted. “But each day brings new revelations. I recognized some of the hymns we sang today.”

“That’s good,” Stella said, her smile fresh and encouraging. “Do you remember the sanctuary?”

He nodded. “I had this image of you and me with a big group. But we were young.”

“Probably Vacation Bible School or maybe with the youth group,” the reverend offered. “For as long as I’ve been pastor of this church, you two have always been together.”

“So I hear,” Marshall said. When he glanced over at Stella, he saw the trace of disappointment in her eyes. “I’m glad those times seem to be resurfacing.”

Reverend Howell’s brown eyes moved from Marshall to Stella. “And how are you handling this new normal, young lady?”

Marshall wondered that too. He gave her the same encouraging look she’d given him so many times. “Be honest, Stella. I want to know the truth.”

She glanced down at her hands and then started twisting her engagement ring. “It’s been hard,” she said, an apologetic expression on her face. “I’ve dreamed of being Marshall’s wife for as long as I can remember. I always felt so secure in our love and in the life we’d planned.”

“And now?” Reverend Howell nodded for her to answer.

“Now, I’m not so sure. Is this a test? Is God testing us to see if we can hold up? I don’t understand.”