Finally a Bride (11 page)

Mr. Schipper snorted dismissively. “The scar’s not that bad.”

Not the one on the outside.

“The
right
woman wouldn’t even see it,” the older man, obviously a romantic as well as an English teacher, maintained.

“Then, I guess I’ll know it when I meet her,” Eric said with a smile.

“You knew it in the second grade.”

“I wasn’t in any of your classes until high school. How do you know that old story?”

“I’ve always been close to the McClintocks. I went to school with Ron and Mary.” His eyes dimmed with sadness and a trace of resentment. “I actually dated her before Ron stole her away from me. I think I wasn’t much more than seven when I fell for her the first time.”

The guy was in deep. Eric couldn’t help but pity him. “When you grow up, you outgrow your old crushes.”

Mr. Schipper, wearing a pitying expression, shook his head. “No, you don’t, son. Not when it’s true love.”

“He really loves you,” Molly told her mother over the phone as she moved a feather duster over every surface in Uncle Harold’s bedroom. Eric had gone to visit his uncle, and she had run out of books to read. So she’d decided to occupy herself with housekeeping.

No matter how many times she cleaned this room, dust particles continued to dance in the sunlight and coat every flat surface. At least she hadn’t had to make the bed. Overhearing Mr. Schipper’s conversation with Eric had kept her awake the night before.

Her mother’s sigh rattled the phone. “I know he loves me.”

Understanding that her support was needed, she swallowed her own feelings of resentment and asked, “Do you love him?”

“Yes.”

She sucked in a breath at the quick flash of pain. Her dad had been gone a long time; her mother was hardly betraying him. So why did it feel as if she was?

“You said he asked you to marry him,” Molly recalled. “But you turned him down.”

“He’s asked me more than once,” her mother admitted.

“But you haven’t said yes?”

“For the same reason you accepted Joshua’s proposal, I turned down Wallace.”

Molly sighed. “Because you didn’t want to marry for love this time.”

“Because I’m a coward. I’m afraid of getting hurt again,” Mom admitted.

“You’re the strongest woman I know,” Molly told her with both respect and pride. She doubted she would have been able to recover from the loss her mother had managed to survive.

If Eric hadn’t made it back from the Middle East…

She shivered at the horrific thought. At least she didn’t have to worry about that now. He was home.

“Even strong women have weak moments,” her mother pointed out.

Molly had never felt weaker than when Eric had kissed her. She was helpless to resist her feelings for him. “Can I come home yet?” she asked.

“No. They all need a little more time, honey.”

“Then maybe I should stop by the house and pick up some things.” Like a chastity belt.

“I brought you another suitcase,” her mother reminded her.

Molly glanced over at the case her mother had left just inside the bedroom door. “I forgot about it.”

“Oh, no. You’ll have to iron the dress, then,” her mother fretted.

“What dress did you pack?” Molly didn’t actually have that many clothes at home anymore. Most of her things had been in her apartment and were now packed in a storage unit in Grand Rapids.

“Open the suitcase and see.”

Balancing the cordless in the crook of her shoulder, Molly picked up the suitcase and set it on the bed. Then she opened it, to confront a profusion of dark pink satin. “My prom dress?”

“Wallace and I really do think alike. We both agree that you should have gone to your prom with Eric. Now here’s your chance.”

“Mom, it’s a little late for the prom.”

“It’s never too late, sweetheart.”

So her mother and Mr. Schipper did think alike. Or he wouldn’t have continued to wait for her all these years.

“Under the dress, I packed balloons and streamers. Make your own prom, honey,” her mother advised.

Molly shook her head, amazed at the extent of her mother’s matchmaking. “Mom…”

“Eric should still have the tux he rented for the wedding.”

“He backed out of being in my wedding,” Molly reminded her.

“But he picked up the tux. And according to the rental place, he hasn’t brought it back yet.”

“He must have forgotten.”

“He has been distracted, I bet,” the older woman allowed with a girlish giggle.

“He’s been going stir-crazy stuck inside this little cabin with me.”

“I don’t think he minds being alone with you.”

“Mom, I don’t care if you meddle in other people’s lives,” she admitted. And then she beseeched her mother, “But stop playing matchmaker for
me.
”

“I’ll stop when you’re happy, honey.” The love in her voice, wrapped warmly around Molly’s heart.

“Mom…” Molly swallowed hard. “I want you to be happy, too. So would Daddy. Say yes the next time Wallace asks you to marry him.”

“If there’s a next time…”

“He’ll ask again.” A man didn’t give up on true love—at least not Mr. Schipper.

Had Eric truly outgrown his crush on her? Molly stroked her fingers over the satin dress. Re-creating their prom with the right dates this time…It was a crazy idea.

“S
HE’S NOT HERE
.”

Paper rustled as Eric tightened his grip on the bag of pastries from Kelly Confections. “Really? Brenna Kelly is not in her office?”

“She hasn’t been here much since the wedding,” the clerk at the counter commented as she handed back his change. The young girl’s face flushed. “Well, the wedding-that-wasn’t.”

Mr. Kelly, coming out of the kitchen with a tray of fresh doughnuts, laughed as he caught the girl’s remark. “Wedding-that-wasn’t. It’s gonna be Cloverville legend, just like someone driving over Colonel Clover.”

Someone.
The old man didn’t miss much. He obviously knew it wasn’t Abby who’d driven over the colonel. He probably knew, like everyone else did, that it had been Colleen.

“So Brenna’s really not here?” Eric asked her dad. His sanity and his self-control fraying, he’d needed a friend—any friend other than Molly McClintock—to talk to.

The old man came around the counter, joining Eric in the small dining area, which was crowded with pub tables and coffee-drinking, doughnut-eating customers. “She’s helping out Josh at the Manning house.”

“The Manning house?”

“Yeah, he bought it for Molly,” Pop explained. “As a wedding present.”

Trips to Bermuda and the Greek Isles
and
a house? A normal man couldn’t compete with a supergroom. “Generous guy,” Eric commented, choking down his jealousy.

“Yeah, he’s a great guy. And a real romantic,” Pop said. “He was going to surprise her when they got back from their honeymoon. Well, you know what actually happened. Josh was the one who wound up getting surprised.”

His throat raw, Eric could only nod.

Pop pitched his voice low so none of the coffee crowd overheard him, as he leaned close and whispered, “And Molly wound up spending her honeymoon with you.”

“And Towers spent his with Brenna,” he replied. Maybe he hadn’t just imagined the attraction between them.

Pop nodded. “Well, Josh got possession of the house early, on the condition that he would clear out whatever they left behind. You know the Mannings.” Disgusted, he shook his head. “They left him quite a mess.”

And so had Molly. A canceled wedding and honeymoon, and a house without a bride to carry over the threshold. Despite his jealousy, he pitied the guy. “So the house needed a lot of work?”

“When he got it, it looked kind of like the inside of that Dumpster Molly fell into the other night.” He laughed and then explained, “It needed a serious cleaning and some light remodeling, carpets taken out, hardwood floors stripped and refinished and lots and lots of painting.”

“And Brenna’s been helping him with that?”

“You know Brenna.”

“Take-charge Brenna,” Eric said, remembering how the redheaded beauty had mothered them all when they were growing up.

“She’s been spending a lot of time with the twins, too,” Mr. Kelly added. “She loves those boys of his.”

Mimicking Pop by pitching his voice low so no gossips would overhear his question and wait for Mr. Kelly’s response, he asked, “What about him?”

“Well, yeah, by working on the house, she’s spending time with Josh,” Pop replied. “A lot of time.”

“No, does she love
him?
” he asked. “Like she loves his sons?”

Mr. Kelly sighed. “She’s fighting it, seeing as how Molly’s still wearing his ring, but our girl is falling and falling hard.”

“Damn it.” He should have been relieved, but concern filled Eric instead. Inevitably one of the women he cared about was going to get hurt. Probably Molly. He would have to tell her—if he was truly her friend. He’d have to warn her that if she hid out any longer, she was going to lose her supergroom.

As he walked Eric out the door, Mr. Kelly assured him, “It’ll all work out how it’s meant to.”

“That’s what I’m afraid of,” Eric admitted. That Molly would wind up marrying the man she’d jilted. Then Brenna, one of his best friends, would be hurt instead.

And Molly would never be his.

“I know you did it,” the baker accused him almost idly.

Eric’s muscles tensed. “Did what?”

“I know you took her.”

He willed a tide of color to keep from flooding his face. “Took who?”

“The bride.”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” he maintained despite knowing damn well. But he had never made a pact with Mr. Kelly not to lie to him.

“You helped me that morning,” Mr. Kelly recalled, “when we loaded the wedding cake into the back of the van. She was on the cake when I rolled it out of the bakery. But when I took the cake out at the hall, she was gone.”

“You must be mistaken.”

“You stole the bride, boy.” Pop slapped his back. “Right off the top of the wedding cake.”

“It probably fell off and rolled under one of the seats of the van,” he said, dismissing Mr. Kelly’s allegations.

The old man laughed—one of his robust, glee-filled chortles. “Next, you’re going to be telling me she went out the window.”

“Pop—”

“It’s okay, boy,” Pop assured him. “Like I said, everything’s going to work out how it’s meant to.”

Eric shrugged off his fear and said, “None of this really concerns me.”

He had just returned from the VA hospital and feared Corporal Underwood was right. Uncle Harold wouldn’t be around much longer, and then neither would Eric. Because once he reenlisted, he would probably be deployed back to the Middle East.

“It concerns you all right,” Pop insisted. “I think, as well as stealing that plastic bride, that you just might have stolen the real one, too.”

Shaking his head, Eric repeated, “You’re mistaken.”

About the real one. She had been staying with him nearly a week, and while he’d stolen a few kisses, he certainly hadn’t stolen her heart. No, he suspected that belonged to the man whose ring she had yet to remove.

A short truck ride later, his guts knotted with dread, he opened the door to the cabin. He had to tell her that if she didn’t do something soon, she was going to lose her groom to her maid of honor.

Music played softly and candles burned on every surface in the living room. He stared up, dumbfounded, at the streamers and balloons. “What the hell?”

Molly stepped out of the bedroom, kicking aside balloons with her high heels, her body encased in a silky pink dress. His heart slammed against his ribs and his body grew hard. She was so damn beautiful. “Wh-what’s all this?”

“Welcome to our prom, Eric.”

“T
HIS IS CRAZY
,” Eric said, kicking aside balloons to shut the front door.

“It’s our prom,” she repeated, her pulse racing with the fear that he wouldn’t play along—and with still more fear that he
would.

“Our prom was long ago,” he reminded her.

“That wasn’t
ours,
” she explained. “It wasn’t yours and mine. We went with
other
people.”

“Until we got kicked out.”

She sighed. “You were my hero. My rescuer.”

He snorted. “You’ve never needed rescuing. You’d already kneed the guy.” He grimaced as if in commiseration. Yet Eric must not have commiserated much back then, since he’d still fought with the lecherous jock.

“I won’t knee you,” she promised.

Humor glinted in his gray eyes, and he teased, “Not even if I get fresh?”

Tonight she hoped he would. “Not even.”

“I guess I can trust you,” he said, “since you haven’t kneed me yet.”

“Why would I?”

“Oh, are we not talking about the kisses, either?”

“The kisses I initiated?” She shrugged. “What’s to talk about?”

He lifted his arms and gestured at the living room. “I’d say we have something to talk about. This is a crazy idea, Molly. We’re not in high school anymore.”

She smoothed her palms over her satin skirt. “The dress still fits.”

“I doubt my tux would.”

“Mom says you never brought your tuxedo for the wedding back to the rental place.”

He slapped his forehead with the hand not holding the bag from Kelly Confections. “Damn it, I forgot all about that monkey suit.”

“So put it on.”

“Your mom…” His eyes narrowed. “She brought you that dress the other day. This is
her
idea.” He glanced around as if expecting Mary McClintock to jump out with a camera flashing.

Molly glanced around, too, not doubting that her mother might do just that. “She was right, you know. We should have gone together.”

“Our dates definitely thought so,” he agreed.

“And everyone else in Cloverville.”

“When are you going to stop doing what other people expect you to do?” he challenged her.

He had always challenged her. That was why, back in high school, she had thought she could handle nothing more than friendship with him. Then her dad had died and she’d
known
she could handle nothing more than friendship with Eric. Until he had been about to leave her.

“I think I stopped doing what people expect me to do when I went out the window on my wedding day,” she reminded him. “I don’t think anyone expected
me
to do that.”

He laughed in agreement. “I guess you have stopped.”

“It took me long enough,” she admitted in frustration with herself.

“Better late than never.”

“I made a decision.” She drew in a deep breath. “I’m not going back to medical school,” she said, although guilt tugged at her with the announcement. “I’m
not
going to be a doctor.”

He nodded with approval. “So what are you going to be, Molly?”

“Right now, your prom date.”

“Molly…”

“Like you said, better late than never. So go put on your tux.”

“This is crazy,” he murmured again.

“Compared to crashing the wedding reception, this is nothing,” she pointed out.