Читать книгу Long-Awaited Wedding - Doris Fell Elaine - Страница 11

An hour down the Pacific Coast Highway from Maureen Davenport’s apartment, a young woman with Allen’s dark eyes and Maureen’s smile and long thick lashes stood by the window of her parents’ home, a bride’s magazine clutched in her hand.

Outside, a violent windstorm was piping through the canyon, howling through the tree tops, and rattling the windowpanes where Heather Reynard stood. The gusting wind swept everything in its path, bending sign posts, crumpling tree limbs like tissue paper. A few logs slid down the hillside and were swallowed up in the yawning mouth of a ten-foot wave that surged along the rocky shoreline.

Still Heather and her family were lucky. Last week it had been the fires raging out of control in the Silverado Canyon, flames leaping and bounding and turning the sky from a brilliant red glow to a smoky-gray. It had destroyed homes in its path and turned them to ashes, leaving hillsides charred with an ominous black canopy that had made both people and animals homeless. A hundred acres had already burned. With the winds tonight, the hot spots of the recent fires in the Silverado Canyon and the San Bernardino foothills could flare up and fan into raging infernos.

Heather shivered, the chill of the windowpane cold against her arms. Not one twinkling star could be seen. The only movement was the light of a jumbo jet. A smoky haze lined the horizon, and rain clouds hid the Big Dipper. But as she crouched lower and stared out the window, she saw a full hazy moon lying low in the sky, peeking out from the clouds, round as a yellow pumpkin.

“Oh, Brett,” she exclaimed, “come look at the full moon.” Her fiance crossed the room and slipped his arm around her slender shoulders.

“Beautiful,” he said, but when she turned to face him, he was looking at her.

“Oh, Brett!”

“You said that already.”

Brett. Martin, at twenty-six, was a foot taller than Heather, and seven years older, his height and broad shoulders rendering him a fortress of strength that pleased her. He was as fair-skinned and blond as she was dark. His eyes were wide-set, his brows thick, his smile full. Brett was not handsome, but she thought of him that way. Her own good-looking knight, so wholesome with his brown maple-sugar eyes, eyes that made her melt when he looked at her, the way he was looking at her now.

“Brett, the storm is worse. I don’t want you out in it.”

“Honey, I have to drive back to Los Angeles this evening.”

“Not in this wind. Mother’s making up a room for you.”

He sighed resignedly. “I have class at eight”

“And I want you alive so you can attend it. You can get up early. I’ll even set my alarm and make you breakfast.”

He looked doubtful. “Okay,” she told him, “Mother can cook it for you. But. I’m learning, Brett. By the time we marry, I’ll be a pretty good cook. Mother is determined.”

“With your unpredictable schedule with the airline, I hope she’s successful. And if not,” he teased, “I’ll talk your mom into moving in with us.”

“She wouldn’t hear of it.”

“Is she still opposed to our marrying in August?”

“No, she’s resigned herself. She thinks I’m too young, but. I’ll still be too young when I’m thirty. Mothers are like that. And as long as I eventually finish college—”

The bride’s magazine slipped from her fingers. Brett stooped to pick it up. “Then what’s wrong, honey?”

“This miserable weather.”

“We have no control over that” He lapsed into his lofty seminary voice. “The storms and winds come from God’s storehouse. Oppose the weather and we oppose God.”

“You’re preaching again, Brett,” she cautioned.

“That’s what. I’m training for, my darling.”

“But you’re not in the pulpit now, and I don’t want you to sound that way ever. It’s your openness and honesty that first attracted me to you, Brett. You’re too genuine to play a role.”

“Heather, all my life I’ve wanted to be a preacher. I’m a third-generation—”

“I want you to be what you want to be. But be yourself, Brett. Lost men and women are depending on you. They’ll like you better and trust you more if you don’t sound preachy.”

“Do you have someone lost in mind?” he asked.

She nodded. “A woman I’ve never met.”

“I’m not up to a guessing game. Who?”

“My birth mother. She may not know that. God loves her.”

“We just have to trust that she will,” he said confidently.

Heather fell silent. Faith and simplicity were easy choices for Brett. He really did credit the winds and storms to God’s storehouse. She leaned against him as his arm tightened around her.

“You look so upset, Heather. What’s troubling you?”

“It’s the guest list for our wedding. I want to invite someone and I’m afraid to tell you—and even more afraid to tell Mom and Dad.”

He winked. “Let me guess. That older flight attendant who gives you such a bad time when you work together?”

“No, but we’re doing much better now. Or maybe I’m doing better on the job.”

“Not your old boyfriend? We agreed not to invite him.”

“He’s coming anyway. His family and mine are old friends.”

“You want to invite someone you don’t know to our wedding? Then you’d better tell me.”

Her voice trembled. “I don’t think you’re going to like what. I say—but. I want my birth mother there.”

The storm had moved inside. The way Brett looked down at her now, there was no way that his maple-sugar eyes could melt anything. He was obviously displeased with her decision.

“You can’t be serious. What if she rejects you again?”

“That’s cruel.”

“She was cruel to leave you.”

“But. I won’t know why she left unless I try to find her.”

He turned to face her and placed his hands firmly on her shoulders. “You said your birth mother. What about your father?”

“Have you forgotten? He died before I was born.”

“Do you know that for certain? Maybe he just ducked out. Some men are not willing to take responsibility.”

“It’s not like that, Brett. When I was adopted, Mom and Dad were told that he died in Cyprus on a peacekeeping mission.”

“The army?”

“The navy, I think. I—” she faltered. “I don’t really know. I used to ask questions, but. I could see that it hurt. Dad. Dad was afraid of losing me if I found my birth mother.”

Brett looked more perturbed than Heather had ever seen him. His usually cheery face was taut with worry, perhaps even a touch of anger. “Heather, I thought we agreed that we would be honest with each other, that we would make major decisions together.”

“I was afraid to tell you.”

“So why is it so important now to find someone that—”

“That never cared about me?” Her voice cracked. “We don’t know that. We don’t know why she didn’t want me.”

He touched her cheek. “I don’t want you to be hurt.”

She groped for words. “Oh, Brett, you can’t protect me from everything. There might be reasons why they gave me away. Reasons why you and I shouldn’t have children.”

“I’m willing to take the risk,” he said. “You know that. We’ve talked about it. Seminary first. And then a family.”

“And what if I get pregnant before you graduate? My birth mother was only seventeen.”

“Seventeen? But you’re almost twenty—and very mature.”

“That didn’t answer my question, Brett.”

“If the babies come before I finish seminary—before you have a chance to finish college—then we’ll welcome them. I can’t imagine a greater joy than you being the mother of my children.”

She was grateful to him. He was trying to stop the battle building between them, trying to protect her from the unknown. “That doesn’t change anything. I still want to find my mother,” she said again. “I must find her.” She looked up and met his gaze. “I want to start our marriage with the record clean, with the questions about my birth parents answered. Whatever it takes, whatever the outcome, I want to find the woman who bore me. I want to know about the father I’ve never seen.”

“But. Nan and Todd—they’ve been good to you. They love you.”

“I know that. They’ll always be Mom and Dad. My parents. But there’s a part of me that still feels a void inside.”

He drew her into his arms. “I thought. I made you happy.”

She reached up on tiptoe and kissed him—a light, feathery kiss. “You do. I love you. But. I’d be so much more complete if I knew who I was.”

“You’re Heather Reynard. You’re going to be Heather Martin. That’s enough for me. Isn’t it enough for you, honey?”

She shook her head. “Please help me find my mother.”

He led her to the sofa and sat beside her, his head in his hands. “What if we haven’t found her when August rolls around?”

Only the sounds of the storm filled the room. Outside the torrential rain washed away the sight of the moon from the sky. Lightning flashed across the horizon. Thunder roared in the distance. Rain splashed the windows, pelted the tiled roof, and ran in widening rivulets down the hillside.

“I asked you a question,” he said gently. “Tell me.”

“Does helping me depend on it, Brett?”

“No,” he said huskily. “It’s your life. Your past. I can live with things the way they are. I don’t think you can.”

“Neither do we,” Todd Reynard said from the doorway.

“Oh, Daddy. I didn’t mean for you to hear.”

“And I didn’t mean to eavesdrop. Your mother sent me down. She was worried that your young man here would be foolish enough to try driving home in this storm. She has his room ready.”

Todd Reynard ran his hand nervously through his hair, causing a tuft of it to stand up wildly. He was a solidly built, pleasant-faced man of average height, with eyes that usually danced when he talked with Heather.

“What should I tell your mother?” he asked.

“He’s staying, of course,” Heather said.

As Todd turned to leave, Brett stopped him, saying, “We were talking about the guest list for the wedding, sir.”

“Yes, Brett. I overheard,” Todd said apologetically. “Don’t let me disturb you.”

“But this concerns you and your wife. I think the four of us should talk it over, sir.” He glanced morosely at. Heather. “What do you think, honey?”

Heather nodded. “I didn’t mean to cause trouble.”

“Then let’s put everything on the table—out in the open.” He glanced at. Todd. “Why don’t you call your wife down?”

They watched Heather’s dad go to the foot of the stairs. “Nan, dear!” he called. “Could you come downstairs for a bit.”

“Don’t be ridiculous, Todd,” came a lighthearted voice. “I’m in my nightclothes.”

“It’s all right. Just throw your robe on and come join us.”

Minutes later she came into the room in her bathrobe, her feet bare. “Is something wrong?” she asked, her gaze going worriedly from face to face.

Todd pulled her down in the chair beside him and squeezed her hand. “The children have something to say.”

They could hear her sigh above the pounding rain. She sat motionless, an expression of alarm frozen on her face. “The two of you—?” she faltered. “You’re all right?”

“We’re fine,” Brett said. “But we need to talk to you about the guest list for the wedding.”

Nan’s voice filled with exasperation. “You called me down at this time of night for that? We have four months before the wedding. Honestly, Heather, dear, put the name on the list, get an address—” She picked at the lint on her worn robe. “If there’s a problem we’ll talk about it in the morning.”

“We don’t have an address,” Brett said.

“We don’t even have a name,” Heather added.

Nan’s voice wavered now as she said, “I don’t understand.”

Todd ran both hands through his hair, his fleshy cheeks drained of color. “I think you do, Nan.”

Nan looked at her husband and then away. “Oh, dear. I guess I expected this.” She sighed and covered her mouth with her hand.

“Mom, if you and Daddy don’t want me to—I’ll just forget it. I wouldn’t hurt you for anything in the world. It’s just—”

Brett folded his hand over Heather’s and gave it a reassuring squeeze.

“Are you certain, Heather, that this can’t wait?” Nan asked tearfully. “Couldn’t we take care of this after the wedding?”

“Finding missing persons takes a long time,” Todd said, his eyes downcast

Brett’s hand tightened around Heather’s. “Nan, Todd,” he said, “I told Heather it doesn’t matter as far as I’m concerned. That you are her mom and dad and that’s good enough for me.”

“But not for you, Heather?” Nan asked.

Brett cleared his throat. “I think Heather is willing to put off the wedding if she has to. It’s that important to her.”

They were talking in circles, all of them knowing what. Heather wanted without saying the words. Heather lifted her face and felt the defiance and tears come at the same moment as she looked across at the parents who had raised her.

“I love you,” she said. “Surely you must know that! You’re the ones who adopted me—the Mom and Dad who loved me through the ups and downs of my rebel years. You prayed for me. Prayed for my future.” She smiled up at. Brett. “You prayed for the man I would many. But there has always been a question mark about my beginnings.”

Nan nodded. Before Todd could protest, she reached across and patted her husband’s knee. “Yes, Heather, dear, we know that you love us…” Her voice trailed. “But, Heather…Brett, it’s your guest list. We promise, we won’t interfere.”

“Mom. Dad,” Heather whispered. “Then you don’t mind if I search for her? Please help me. I want to find my birth mother before my wedding day. There’s so much I want to know…so much I need to tell her.”

Her father’s smile turned ragged. “We love you, Heather.”

Nan straightened her shoulders and said bravely, “But right now that isn’t enough, Todd.”

“Not enough?” he asked. “We’ve done—”

Nan reached across and touched his lips. “It has nothing to do with what we’ve done, Todd. We’ve seen this coming—”

“Please, Mom…Dad.”

Her dad looked as lost as Heather felt as he glanced at his wife for confirmation. Then he cleared his throat as he turned back and faced her. “It’s your decision. Your Mother and I will stand by you.”

Outside, the rain kept coming down in torrents. The howling winds whipped up, pushing the rain against the patio door. Lightning streaked across the sky. Claps of thunder bolted and roared back. The electric lights in the room blinked, then blacked out, and they were left in total blackness—a darkness nearly as palpable and pervasive as the empty space in Heather’s heart