Finally a Bride (7 page)

Eric closed his hands around her shoulders and tried to pull her close. But Molly’s body remained tense with guilt and pain. That was why she’d been coming to visit her father the past few weeks, probably in the hopes that he would somehow release her from the promise she had made. “So what are you going to do? Go back to medical school, even though you hate it?”

“That’s what I should do.” She drew in a breath, as if bracing herself for something horrible. “That’s what I need to do.”

“If you hate it, going back, making yourself miserable…
That
would be crazy.”

“You’re a fine one to talk,” she accused him, her eyes dark with anger. “You joined the Marines to please your uncle, to repay him for taking you in when you—”

“When I had no place else to go? Yeah, I owe my uncle,” he admitted. “But that’s not why I joined the Marines. It was something inside.” He pressed a fist to his heart. “Something I felt I had to do because
I
wanted to enlist, not because someone else wanted me to.”

She reached up and brushed her fingers across his cheek. “And look what it got you. You shouldn’t have joined. You should have listened to me that night.”

“The night we swore we’d never mention again?” he asked. “
That
night?”

Her delicate throat moved as she swallowed, and her skin reddened. “That night. I can’t believe I…”

“Don’t worry,” he said, “I never told anyone. You have no reason to be embarrassed.”

“Eric…”

“But we’re not talking about that night and we’re not talking about me,” he reminded her. He hated talking about himself. “We’re talking about
you,
about what you’re going to do.”

“I don’t know what I’m going to do. Just yesterday I was in the brides’ room at church, getting ready to marry a man I’d dated only a few months,” she admitted. “I’m not rushing into any more decisions. I’m going to take my time.”

“And this time base your decisions on what
you
want,” he advised her, trying to be the supportive friend she expected him to be. “Not what you think someone else wants for you.”

“I can’t be like you, Eric. I can’t
not
care about what other people, about what people I care about, want.” Accusation burned brightly in her eyes. “Even though I begged you not to go, you still left me when I needed you most.”

“You were leaving, too,” he reminded her as guilt gnawed at him. For years, he’d beat himself up for making her cry, for hurting her. He continued, “In just a couple of months, you and Brenna were going off to college. Abby had already taken off. It wasn’t fair of you to ask me to stay when you weren’t staying.”

She lifted her arms and gestured at the tombstones around them. “I didn’t want you to wind up here. I didn’t want to lose you like I’d just lost my dad.”

“I know.” He reached out, pulling her into his arms and close against his heart. “But you didn’t lose me.”

She stepped back and shook her head. “But I did. You’re not the man who left Cloverville.”

“A boy left.” And came back a man.

“I miss the boy,” she said wistfully.

“Everyone has to grow up sometime, Molly. You’re too old for anyone else to make your decisions. Not your father or me or Josh Towers.”

She turned toward Mr. McClintock’s tombstone, her thick lashes blinking as if she fought back tears. “I know.”

“Molly…”

“Please, just leave me here,” she said. “I want to be alone for a while.”

Everyone else had respected her wish for time alone. Everyone except him. He nodded, then turned, and once again he left her alone with her pain.

M
OLLY HELD HER BREATH
waiting for the crank of the truck engine, but it never came. She glanced back toward the red Ford, to see if Eric was waiting for her. But he was gone. Walking to town with his limp? Even as slight as it was, it must bother him. More guilt pressed on her heart, weighing it down even more.

“I’m sorry,” she whispered, even though he had to be out of earshot since she couldn’t see him. She had done nothing but disrupt his life since she’d showed up at his door. She couldn’t stay with him, not while she got her head together. That would probably take entirely too long.

“Here you go,” murmured a feminine voice as an elderly woman stooped and placed flowers on Molly’s dad’s grave. More flowers bobbed on her wide-brimmed hat as she straightened up. “I see that you didn’t bring any flowers this Sunday.”

“I didn’t think I’d be here,” Molly admitted.

Mrs. Hild’s gently wrinkled face lifted in a smile. “You were supposed to be on your honeymoon.”

Molly sighed. “Yes.”

“Instead, you’re here.”

Because she hadn’t loved Josh, she would rather be here than on a honeymoon with him. She’d been crazy—and cowardly—to think she could marry without love.

“I passed Eric on his way out,” Mrs. Hild said. “He said you wanted to be alone.”

Yet the old woman persisted in talking to her. Molly sighed again, and her irritation eased with her breath. Mrs. Hild, despite her reputation as the town gossip, was really a very sweet woman. “I appreciate the flowers. I’m sure my father would, too.”

“But you’re not alone,” Mrs. Hild continued as if Molly hadn’t spoken. “You’re with your father.”

She wished he were here—in more than spirit—with her.

Mrs. Hild entwined her gnarled fingers as she stared across the cemetery, toward a grave nearly covered with a profusion of fresh roses. “I come here every chance I get so I can be with Ernest.”

“You still miss him a lot?”

“I miss him.” The widow sighed. “And I miss what we could have had.”

“He’s been gone a long time.” Molly couldn’t even remember Mr. Hild. “You still miss him?”

The older woman nodded and sent the flowers on her hat brim bobbing again. “Every day.”

“I’m sorry.” Molly was sorry she had ever considered getting married.

“I’m sorry, too,” the older woman said with a heavy sigh. “I wasted so much time.”

“I don’t understand. If you feel closer to Ernest here, then you’re not wasting your time visiting.” Molly reached out, wrapping her fingers around Mrs. Hild’s clasped hands.

“Oh, no, I’m not talking about visiting his grave,” the widow insisted. “I wasted
our
time before he died.”

“How?”

“Ernest asked me three times to marry him before I finally got smart and accepted. I wasted so much time. Years we were apart. I kept telling him that I wasn’t ready to settle down.” Tears sparkled in the other woman’s faded blue eyes. “The truth was that I wasn’t ready to
settle.
”

Molly squeezed her companion’s hands, offering silent comfort. She recognized and understood her guilt.

“He was my high-school sweetheart, you know.” Mrs. Hild laughed. “Heck, elementary school. We grew up together. I didn’t think it was really love. I thought it was convenience. So when he proposed after graduation, I turned him down. I wanted to see if there was more out there, if there was
someone
better out there. So, like Abby Hamilton, I left Cloverville for a while. But I was wrong. There was no one better—period. Ernest was the best. And I wasted so much of the time we could have had together looking for something I’d had all along with him—true love.”

“But at least you had true love,” Molly pointed out. “That’s more than most people can say.”

Mrs. Hild nodded, and a tear slipped from her eye and trailed down her weathered cheek. “I know. But I would have had it longer, if I hadn’t been afraid.”

Fear tightened Molly’s stomach as the elderly widow warned her, “Don’t be afraid, Molly. Don’t waste your happiness.”

The clouds still hung low and dark in the sky, and the distant rumble of thunder threatened a storm. Perfect time for a Sunday stroll, Eric chided himself. But he hadn’t wanted to wait in the truck for Molly. She wasn’t the only one who needed time alone.

The reprieve in the gas station hadn’t been long enough—not to erase from his mind her talk of Dr. Towers and their instant connection. Of course she would have fallen for Josh easier than for him. She’d known Eric for nearly twenty years and hadn’t
ever
fallen for him.

His steps slowed as he neared the gated entrance to Cloverville Park. Why did they even bother with the gates, when he could never remember them being closed? But no one closed gates or locked doors in Cloverville. The town was safe, unlike those places Eric had been in the Marines, but still bad things happened here—like Mr. McClintock dying. And Colonel Clover’s “accident.”

Eric walked into the park and kept walking until the distorted shadow of Colonel Clover fell across his face. He stared up at the bent and broken statue of the town founder. Eight years ago someone had driven through the park and smashed into the statue, bending and breaking the old metal. Abby Hamilton had taken the blame; it had been her car, after all, and no one in town doubted she’d been the driver. Except for her friends.

They’d all known she hadn’t been behind the wheel; Molly’s younger sister had been. But Colleen had been so miserable and so obviously guilty that no one had had the heart to call her on it. They hadn’t wanted her to feel any worse. And Abby had always planned on leaving Cloverville anyway. She hadn’t needed an excuse, but Colleen had given her another, quite convenient one.

Eric winked at the colonel, silently thanking him for keeping Colleen’s secret, too. Colonel Clover, more than anything or anyone else in town, made Eric feel at home. Next to the broken statue, he didn’t feel so damaged.

“Eric South!”

He jumped at the booming voice. Two years out of the Corps, and his reflexes were a little dull. He should have noticed he wasn’t alone in the park. “Hey, Pop. Mama.” He nodded at Brenna Kelly’s parents.

“So, I hear you have a houseguest,” Mama said with a teasing smile. Her dark eyes bright with amusement, she patted her hair. It had been white as long as he could remember, even though he’d heard it was once as red as her daughter’s.

He glanced at Pop. Eric hadn’t confirmed where Molly was staying, but obviously the old man had his suspicions. “I never said I had a houseguest.”

Pop put a hand on his shoulder. “You didn’t have to, boy.”

God, did everyone know how he felt about Molly? That he could never tell her no? Except that once…

“Women talk,” Pop added.

“Mary McClintock called me this morning,” Mama explained. The two women had always been close friends.

“You didn’t tell Brenna?” he asked, as protective of Molly as he’d always been. “Or the groom?”

Mama shook her head. “No, Mary and I agreed that everyone would be better off if we let Molly come home under her own steam.”

Tensing with alarm, Eric’s hands fisted. “Would Dr. Towers be the type to drag her home if he knew where she was?” Maybe the women on staff at the hospital were wrong about him.

“Oh, goodness, no,” Mama defended the groom, fluttering a hand against her chest in one of her many dramatic mannerisms.

Eric had always found the Kellys so entertaining—until today.

“Josh would never pressure Molly,” Pop assured him with respect for the surgeon.

“He wouldn’t have to,” Mama said with a wink. “I understand why she accepted his proposal. The man is beautiful, outside and in.” She shook her head. “I just can’t understand why she jilted him.”

Pop nodded toward the playground, to the young dark-haired twins twirling on the merry-go-round. “Maybe it all seemed like too much.”

“They’re such sweet boys. You should meet them, Eric,” Mama said with all the pride of a grandparent.

But Brenna hadn’t made them grandparents. Yet. Eric figured his redheaded friend planned to—eventually. When they were kids, she had appointed herself mother of their group. He knew she would be a natural when she started a family of her own.

He glanced over at the merry-go-round and the kids who were miniatures of their good-looking father. Last night Brenna had seemed interested in the doctor and he in her. But Eric might have imagined the sparks between the maid of honor and the groom. He might have just been hoping that the doctor was interested in a woman other than Molly.

With her generous heart and loving nature, Molly would make a wonderful mother, too. She would have been a great stepmother for the Towers twins, once they’d given her a chance. She still might, if she decided she wanted to marry Towers after all.

“I really can’t meet the kids right now,” he said. “I have to get back…”

To nothing. He had no idea if Molly had left the cemetery, or if she had…If she intended to return to his house or find another less complicated place to stay, like her home. Or maybe she’d guilted herself into returning to medical school. She wouldn’t need much time to pack her things in the car he’d stowed in his barn. She might already be gone.

“They’re really neat boys,” Pop said, gesturing toward the twins.

“I’m sure they are,” Eric agreed. “But me and kids…” He stroked a finger over his cheek and forced a chuckle. “We tend to give each other nightmares.”

Pop laughed and slapped a hand against his shoulder again. “You’re such a kidder.”

But Eric wasn’t kidding. He really did give children nightmares. The last woman he’d dated had had a couple of kids, and she’d shared that with him as her reason for breaking up. She hadn’t meant to be cruel to Eric; she’d just wanted to be a good mother. He had respected her honesty. And he hadn’t really cared enough to take it personally.

“We did promise to take the twins for ice cream,” Mrs. Kelly reminded her husband.

They left Eric with a few more words of praise for the boys—and for the man they would obviously have liked for a son-in-law. Was everyone in Cloverville a matchmaker? If Molly changed her mind about marrying Towers, she might have competition now.

Hell, she was Molly. Beautiful and smart. So was Brenna, but Molly had something extra—something that made her so special that a man could never get her completely out of his head or his heart.

He waved to the Kellys and the twins as they rushed out of the park and headed off toward town. He stood a moment longer, in the shadow of the colonel until another man entered the park, the fair-haired best man. Along with a rolled-up blanket under his arm, Dr. Jameson carried a picnic basket. Before the other man noticed him, Eric slipped through the gates. But he waited—not long—to see who showed up.

Colleen. She didn’t rush toward the man who must have been waiting for
her.
Instead she lingered outside, watching him. Although she hadn’t been hurt as badly as Colonel Clover in the accident all those years ago, she still bore scars from losing her father—and herself for a while—in her adolescence. She’d been hurt enough to remain cautious.

Mrs. McClintock had been right to assure her oldest daughter that she didn’t need to worry about her younger sister. Knowing Colleen could take care of herself—even though she might have yet to realize it—Eric turned away from the park and headed toward the small cabin he’d called home for almost twenty years.

Eric understood caution. First he’d lost his folks, and then he’d lost his guardians. Except for Uncle Harold, people had a habit of letting him down—of letting him go. Then he’d entered the Marines and he’d learned that he needed to be cautious in every aspect of his life.

Never more so than now—with Molly in residence.

Unless she’d already left.

“Y
OU CAME HOME
.” Relief eased the tight knot in Molly’s stomach. She dropped the book she’d been trying unsuccessfully to read onto the couch.

His voice tinged with irony, he replied, “I do live here, you know.”

“I thought maybe you took me at my word. And you went to Grand Rapids to stay with your friend.”

He pressed the door shut with his back and rubbed his hip. With a rueful half grin, he admitted, “I’m not sure I could have managed the walk to Grand Rapids.”

“Are you all right?” Concern propelled her from the couch to his side.

“I’m fine. I’m just getting old.”

“You’re only twenty-six.” Same as her. But those years in the Marines had aged him. Heck, even when they’d been kids he’d seemed older, despite his small size. Of course by the age of seven, he’d already suffered way too much loss.

“You should have taken your truck,” she said. A rumble of distant thunder reinforced her reprimand. “I was worried about you.”

“I needed to walk.” He eased away from the door—and her—and limped toward the kitchen. “My physical therapist tells me I don’t walk enough.”

“I was worried that you’d get caught in a storm.” And so she’d searched for him, driving his truck with a cap pulled low over her face so that no one would recognize her. But with dark clouds threatening, not many people had been out walking the sidewalks of Cloverville. Only Eric.

“You don’t need to worry about me.” He waved off her concern as he jerked open the door to his copper-toned refrigerator.

“But I do.” She had gotten used to worrying about him. Even after his return from the Marines, she hadn’t been able to break the habit.

“You’re wasting your time,” he remarked as he poured himself a glass of iced tea. Then he turned toward Molly, lifting the pitcher in a silent question.

She shook her head. “I don’t want anything to drink. But I can’t deny that I might have wasted my time.”

“Of course you have. There’s no reason to worry about me,” he insisted. “I’m fine.”

“I’m not talking about you.” Because she wasn’t likely to stop worrying about him yet. “I think I might have wasted my time in medical school.” And those years in premed classes at college when she would have rather taken liberal-arts courses. So many years wasted, if she changed her mind. How could she give up now, after promising her dad, after working so hard?

How could she throw away so many years of her life?

“Molly…”

“You knew that, too, that I wasn’t cut out for medical school. Just like you knew I was jumping into marriage with Josh. Why didn’t you say something before you left?” She had cared enough then to try and stop him from entering the Marines. Why hadn’t he cared enough about her to stop her from wasting her life?

“You know why,” he said as he opened the sliders and stepped onto the deck. He stared out over the lake.

Even though she knew he didn’t want to talk to her, she followed him. “Are you mad at me?” she asked, grasping his arm in her hands. The hair on his forearms tickled her palms.

He turned back toward her and sighed. “No.”

“But I was kind of a bitch at the cemetery,” she admitted, her voice rasping with regret. “I had no right to lash out at you just because I’m confused.”

“You weren’t bitchy, you were being stubborn. In other words—you were being you.” He sighed. “When you get something in your head, you don’t listen.”

“So that’s why you’ve never told me all the mistakes I’ve been making?”

“I told you once,” he reminded her. “Just once…”

Molly’s face heated as she remembered when—in his bedroom eight years before. She dropped his arm and knotted her hands together. “I—I—uh…” She swallowed her nerves. “I know I brought it up at the cemetery. But we need to go back to forgetting that night ever happened.”

Eric turned toward the lake again and sighed. “If only I could.”

“I ruined our friendship, didn’t I? That night…Just like I always thought it would.”

He lifted brows above eyes as dark a gray as the overhead clouds.
“It?”

Her pulse quickened to a crazy rhythm. “We’re not talking about it,” she insisted.

“But we’re both thinking about it now.”

“I should go. I made another mistake coming here.” She turned toward the patio doors, but when she reached for the handle, a strong hand closed over hers.

“You didn’t ruin anything that night, Molly.”

A smile twitched at her lips. “Liar.”

Eric uttered a deep, throaty chuckle. “I’m not lying. That happened a long time ago, and we’re still friends.”

“That’s why I should leave now.” She sighed. “Because just give me a chance, and I will screw things up. I’ve made a pretty big mess of my life lately. So I strongly suggest that you save yourself.”

His hand slid off hers. “Okay, get out.”

“Eric!”

“I’m kidding, Molly,” he said. “I really don’t want you to go.”

Her heart lifting with relief because he didn’t actually want her to leave, she teasingly accused him, “Masochist.”

He expelled a ragged sigh. “Tell me about it!”

“So you’re not mad at me?”

“Over what?” he asked. “The cemetery, or what we promised to forget?”

“The cemetery,” she interjected. “You were being so supportive, which is all you’ve been since I showed up at your door.” That night really hadn’t hurt their friendship. “And I thanked you by being all bitch—”

“Stubborn,” he interrupted her.

“But you wound up walking home. I’m sorry.”

“What did I say about apologizing?”

“To quit it,” she repeated. As if possessed by a mischievous imp, she teased, “So I’ll quit
saying
I’m sorry. And
show
you how sorry I am.”

Eric’s dark blond brows furrowed. “What are you…”

She rose on tiptoes and threw an arm around his neck, pulling his head down for a kiss. As she pressed her lips to his, she realized she’d done it again.

She’d made another mistake. Not because she kissed him, but because she didn’t want the kiss to end. With her free hand she grasped his T-shirt, pulling him closer as she moved her mouth over his.

Eric’s lips parted on a groan, and he deepened the kiss. His tongue slipped inside her mouth, hot and hungry, while his hands moved over her, tangling in her hair, running down her back and clutching her hips.

Molly’s knees weakened as the heat of desire flooded her body. She trembled in his arms, wanting more. “Eric?”