The Bride's Curse (22 page)

His words made Kelly’s pulse leap. “I feel the same, Brett—and I especially like the part that comes before falling asleep with you.” She enjoyed the darkening of his eyes in response to her mischievous whisper.

“You think that’s only a ‘part’? I thought it would have deserved a somewhat more lavish description,” he growled in her ear, his breath tickling the sensitive skin.

They were still laughing, parting reluctantly as a pleased looking Noelia returned with Mary. “It works! It’s wonderful!” she told Kelly, and then shooed them all out of the store. “Go away, people, I want to play with my new toy while you go groom hunting.”

The drive to Bar Harbor took the better part of two hours. They took Brett’s SUV with Mary sitting in the back so that Kelly could sit beside the driver and read the street map when they arrived—as well as bask in hot memories of the night they spent together in Brett’s apartment, and the promise he’d made that they would have a repeat performance.

It was agreed that they would try to locate Troy’s home without calling ahead, as Mary had requested. “What if the poor guy answers the door in his boxers? Or worse, his grubby tighty-whiteys and sporting a beer belly and a mighty hangover?” Kelly whispered to Brett as they drove along.

“Then it would be interesting—I’ve never seen a grown man in his boxers before,” Mary piped up from the back. “Most guys wore those jockey things back then. Or none at all.” She had started out in high spirits, assuring Kelly that she would be happy no matter what the outcome. At least a decades-old mystery would be solved.

Half an hour into the journey Mary was snoring softly in the back seat. Kelly envied her, but at least now she could raise the question with Brett that had been bothering her since they discovered Troy’s location.

Now that they knew where the man might be and that he was alive, there was a question everyone had danced around that was becoming all the more urgent, but somehow it had never been asked.

Nudging him to get his attention, Kelly asked Brett in a low voice, “We haven’t talked about this, but what happens if a little wifey opens the door with a big, welcoming smile, not knowing it’s her hubby’s ex who’s standing there, searching for him?”

Brett was silent for a moment, concentrating on overtaking a battered truck that was dawdling along in his lane. “I don’t think we can predict what anyone’s reaction would be. And anyway, there was no mention of his married status on the university alumni website. Did your friend in the veterans’ association mention anything?”

Kelly worried her bottom lip for a moment before admitting: “You know, I never even thought to ask … I suppose I was so invested in finding the man who’d left Mary literally standing at the altar that it never occurred to me there might be another woman in his life.”

Brett kept his eyes on the road but his hand slipped across the seat to stroke Kelly’s thigh. “It’s been a lot of years. The man has surely had some romantic moments in his life. He wouldn’t be a guy if he hadn’t.” Kelly could hear the smile in his voice. She wanted to grab his hand and hang on for dear life—or, if Mary hadn’t been in the rear seat, make him pull off into the next country road and show her what he meant by “romantic moments.”

Instead, she asked, “How do you think your aunt would be able to cope if the jerk’s married with six kids and a passel of grandkids?”

“Don’t talk about me like I’m not there, Kelly. I’m not that old, you know,” an irritated voice piped up from the backseat. The jilted bride was awake again. “To be honest, if he’s got a wife, kids, and grandkids, I’d be really happy for him. At least one of us has had a life. I’d be delighted and compliment him. Then I’d kill the mud sucking bottom pond dweller!”

Brett and Kelly looked at each other in amazement. Kelly was afraid to look in the rear view mirror in case she caught Mary’s eyes. They both struggled but the shared mental picture of five foot three inch Mary doing real damage to a boxer clad man whose bio pitched him at six foot two made laughter impossible to stifle. Brett was laughing so hard he signaled and pulled onto the hard shoulder.

“Aunt Mary, you’ll be the death of me,” he wheezed when he could catch his breath again.

She glared at him through the rearview mirror.

“I’m finding that I’m a lot tougher than anyone has ever given me credit for.”

• • •

The house at the address Kelly had obtained from her friend at the veterans’ association was a modest single-story home with an attached garage. A very ordinary home in a very ordinary part of the town, tucked away from the main tourist drag.

A tiny front lawn was neatly clipped and an ornamental cherry tree swayed and rustled in the soft, sea-scented breeze that filtered over the short distance from the seafront. Over and above the obvious care was a patina of recent neglect. Pansies had browned and died in a box on the cement stoop and the paintwork of the house and garage looked tired.

A large fluffy ginger cat sat on the stoop. He was plump and confident as only a much-loved pet can be. Kelly thought that was proof at least that someone with a heart lived there. Unless, of course, he belonged to a neighbor.

“There’s no car in the drive,” Mary whispered.

Was Brett’s aunt having second thoughts and looking for an excuse to call the whole affair off? “The garage door is shut tight. Troy’s car could be in there,” Kelly replied. “So who wants to go and ring the bell?”

They stood in the driveway, each glancing at the other and looking away. Finally, Brett said, “I’ll go. The guy might think twice before he slams the door in another guy’s face.”

Kelly sighed dramatically at his tone of voice. “I think this is a situation that needs a little less testosterone and a little more finesse. Besides, a man is less likely to feel threatened if a woman is on his doorstep. I’ll go and knock on the door.”

“Unless she’s red-haired,” Brett muttered under his breath, but Kelly heard him anyway and gave him a look.

It shouldn’t be so difficult to march up the three cement steps and knock on that dull green painted door, thought Kelly, except that so much seemed to be riding on what lay beyond. She took a deep breath, wishing she was anywhere but where she was at that instant, and grasped the brass door knocker. Three loud raps reverberated through the home. A minute passed. Two minutes. Nothing.

She rapped again and then noticed the doorbell, so she held that down and listened to its chiming notes weaving through seemingly empty air to fade away unanswered.

Brett and Mary stood on the driveway watching her with mixed expressions. Mary’s face radiated hope and anxiety, but Brett’s expression was more of concern for the aunt who had taken him in as a grieving teenager.

Kelly sighed. Just how had she gotten tangled up in all this? Then she remembered the one window looking out onto the street. If she stretched just a little on tiptoe and held onto the edge of the wall, perhaps she could see into the room beyond. She took a deep breath and balanced herself, clinging to the clapboard with her fingertips as she peered in through the window, only to lose her grip and fall off the step in shock at a large pair of eyes glaring back out at her.

“Oh, jeez, Kelly, are you okay?”

Sure she was okay. Nothing like an inelegant face plant into dead pansies right in front of the hunk you still really would like to impress. She accepted Brett’s hand to help her to her feet then shrugged his fingers away as he tried to pick dead petals from her hair. “I can do that,” she snapped. “It was just another damned cat, the twin of the one on the stoop. But for a moment I thought … oh, never mind.”

The “twin” cat sauntered up to her, weaving between her legs and looking up with what Kelly was sure was a smile on its face. And she was equally sure that its twin inside the house was laughing at the dumb human, too.

“A real pair of comedians,” she muttered under her breath.

“What?” Brett looked concerned as if her words signaled a concussion.

“Nothing. It was just a cat. There’s no one home so I think … ” She looked over his shoulder and the words she was about to say stuck in her throat.

Hobbling along the driveway next door and heading for the sidewalk was the oldest woman she’d ever seen. She looked as though a blast of wind would blow her and her walker over. She wore a long flowing dress and a bonnet—a bonnet?—and could easily have stepped out of one of the pioneer history books. Her face reminded Kelly of those dried apple dolls they used to make in school, but it was set in determined lines and her dark, wrinkle bedded eyes were focused firmly on the newcomers.

“You looking for Mr. Matthews?” she croaked in a voice that sounded unused. “If so, you’re too late—the funeral’s today. Try the cemetery.”

Mary gasped a sob and Brett put his arms around her. Kelly was caught between comforting Mary and rushing off down the driveway to pump the elderly neighbor for information. She left Mary to her nephew and followed the woman, but even as she moved toward the sidewalk a Prius pulled up and a gray-haired man got out and helped the woman into the vehicle. Kelly called to the couple, but they drove away.

“Guess they’re both deaf. Do you think the old guy was her son?”

“Well, he looked too young to be her boyfriend,” Mary said tartly, and Kelly blushed, realizing that the “old” man was probably little older than Mary’s sixty-five years. Oops.

Mary’s lip was quivering and she burst into tears. “All these years he was living right here, we were just a couple of hours apart. And now … now I’ve found him and he’s gone. Just a few days too late.”

Kelly put her arms around her. She appealed with her eyes to Brett for any ideas to comfort his aunt, but he looked as dejected as she felt. He pulled out a big, snowy white handkerchief and held it out to Kelly, who used it to staunch the tears that were falling in black mascara stained drops down Mary’s cheeks.

Then all three whirled around at the sound of screeching tires and grinding gears as the car that had picked up the old lady came reversing back down the street as though the devil himself was after them.

They stopped at the entrance to Troy’s driveway, narrowly missing Brett’s SUV. Kelly noted with amusement that he winced and shuddered at his vehicle’s narrow escape.

The old, apple sculptured woman wound down her window, poked her head out, and yelled, “If you wanna go to the funeral, follow us.”

It required no discussion. They ran to Brett’s car, Mary with surprising speed as she scrambled inside. Kelly leaped into the front seat beside Brett as the car moved off the sidewalk. “Hang on; I need to fasten my seat belt. Remember this is the eighty percent risk seat.”

• • •

They followed the Prius through the town streets, past shoppers and idlers, tourists, and vendors. It seemed to Kelly quite strange that life was able to go on when major tragedies were unfolding in the world along with the lesser tragedies unfolding right there in Brett’s car. She asked herself how she would feel had Wayne simply walked away without a word and then she had found him years later, motivated by love, only to discover that it was too late, that he was already dead?

It was hard to follow that train of thought. There’d been moments after she had read Wayne’s quick “It’s not me, it’s you” note that she’d wished him in the path of a speeding bus.

Now? Now, her feelings were empty. That was the best word. Her heart held no feelings one way or another for Wayne.

How could you measure the depth of feelings like Mary’s, going from pain and sorrow to anger to undying longing over the space of half a century?

She shook herself out of these thoughts as Brett maneuvered their vehicle behind the couple’s car and a long line of vehicles heading to the cemetery. Already a crowd had gathered around the spot where an open grave was marked with floral tributes. It seemed the deceased Troy Matthews had been a popular fellow.

“Oh, no, I wish I could have brought a wreath, some flowers … ” Mary mourned.

“It’s enough that you are here,” Kelly comforted. “I’m sure that will mean a lot.” Or at least it would if the ghost of Troy Matthews was hanging around to see. Kelly gulped back that thought. The last thing in the world she wanted to see right now was another restless spirit. The thought that maybe a graveyard was a perfect hangout for them made her shudder and momentarily close her eyes.

They joined the mourners walking toward the gravesite. Many were very elderly, very well-dressed people, some using walkers to get around the grassy area toward the gravesite, a couple using expensive electric wheelchairs to bump across the grass. The undertaker’s men were having some difficulty pushing a gurney containing the flower-covered casket across the lawns to the final resting place of Troy Matthews, the errant bridegroom. The thought that the man had once again left a heartbroken Mary flipped through Kelly’s mind. “If he does appear as a spirit, I’ll give him what for,” she vowed.

“If only we weren’t so late … if I’d only thought of searching for him before now, we might have had a little time together … ” Mary mused sadly.

Kelly was tempted to roll her eyes. This was the woman who’d secluded herself for years and cursed her wedding gown after the non-event wedding, causing other brides all sorts of problems when the dress was sold. Now she was weeping and wailing …
just a minute, what was that?

Dear God—is that a ghost? Had her nasty thoughts actually conjured him up?

“Er, Mary, did Troy have a brother?”

“No, dear. That’s something we had in common, being only children … ” Mary’s gaze followed Kelly’s toward the small crowd standing next to the minister. There stood a balding man clutching his Bible as if it were a lifeline, and next to him was Troy Matthews. Alive or dead, Kelly hadn’t discerned yet. Mary went pale and swayed alarmingly. Brett grabbed her and held her upright, although he, too, lost color as he followed their gaze toward where Troy Matthews, in the flesh or spirit, stood alongside the yawning grave.

Their attention must have telegraphed itself to him because the man looked up from the sober-faced conversation he was having with the minister. At first his glance was simply curious as he reacted to seeing strangers at a funeral. Then his eyes returned to Mary and his face drained of color to a shade whiter than that of a Halloween ghost mask.