Forgotten Honeymoon

FORGOTTEN HONEYMOON

by Beverly Farr

Copyright 2012 Beverly Farr Giroux

Smashwords Edition

This story is a work of fiction. Names,
characters, places, and incidents are products of the author’s
imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual
events, locales, or persons, living or dead, is entirely
coincidental.

All rights reserved.

Cover design by Rita Toews
www.yourebookcover.com

Cover image by: wavebreakmedia ltd
/Shutterstock.com

Smashwords Edition, License Notes

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TABLE OF CONTENTS

PROLOGUE

CHAPTER ONE

CHAPTER TWO

CHAPTER THREE

CHAPTER FOUR

CHAPTER FIVE

CHAPTER SIX

CHAPTER SEVEN

CHAPTER EIGHT

CHAPTER NINE

CHAPTER TEN

CHAPTER ELEVEN

CHAPTER TWELVE

NOTE FROM THE AUTHOR

PROLOGUE

Kelly Rawlins yawned and tried to roll over
to go back to sleep. Her covers wouldn’t cooperate. “Stupid
flannel,” she muttered.

A husky voice teased, “This is a surprise. I
never thought you’d be the satin and lace type.”

Lips brushed her ear.

Kelly frowned, not wanting to let go of the
dream, but then it was gone.

She blinked, completely awake now. She wasn’t
at home in her four poster bed. Alarmed by the strange
surroundings, she tried to sit up, but she couldn’t move.

“It’s okay,” a calm female voice said and
touched her arm.

Her eyes focused on blue scrubs. A nurse. She
wasn’t strapped down; her bedding was just tucked around her
tightly. There was a tube in her arm and blinking machinery over to
one side of her bed. “Where am I?” Her voice sounded scratchy. Her
chest hurt with every breath.

“You’re in the hospital,” the woman explained
gently. “You were in a car accident. You’ve been unconscious.”

Unconscious? That would account for the
disturbing dreams that floated just behind her awareness. Something
was terribly wrong, but she didn’t know what it was. She had to go
somewhere. She had to tell someone something.

Kelly’s head ached. “Did anyone die?”

“No, your car slid into a tree.”

“Am I okay?” The minute the question was out
of her mouth, she felt foolish. Of course she wasn’t okay, she was
in a hospital.

The nurse didn’t seem to think she was an
idiot. “You’re fine. You bruised your ribs and got a big bump on
your forehead, but other than that, you’re doing well. Be glad you
were wearing a seat belt.”

Her father appeared in the doorway. She’d
never seen him look so disheveled. His clothes were wrinkled. He
hadn’t shaved. A big man, normally jovial, he watched her
anxiously, unsmiling.

“Looks like I got you out of bed,” she
joked.

“Oh, sweetheart,” he said hoarsely, and gave
her a gentle hug. “I was so worried.”

“Careful with the I.V.,” the nurse
reminded.

Kelly held him tight. He felt so big and
strong and comforting. “Have you told Mom?” she asked.

He leaned back and shook his head. “Not yet.
The doctors thought it would be better not to. I told her you were
spending the night at the studio.”

Kelly recognized the fear in his eyes. After
her mother’s last heart attack, both she and her father were
careful not to upset her. “Good,” she said. Each word was difficult
with the tightness in her chest. “Glad I woke up.”

He smiled down at her. “Me, too.”

How she loved him. She squeezed his hand with
her left one. Her ring finger was bare. That was strange. She only
took off her engagement ring when she was working, and she always
put it back on. Her head throbbed at the thought. “Where’s
Nigel?”

He frowned. “Why?”

“Doesn’t he know I’m here?”

His brow wrinkled with concern. “No,
sweetheart. You told me you never wanted me to mention his name
again.”

That didn’t make sense. “What happened?”

“You had a fight.”

A fight? Impossible. She and Nigel never
fought. Confused, she asked, “When? I don’t remember a fight.”

“Friday.”

Friday?
“What day is it?”

“Tuesday.” He looked at his watch. “No, it’s
Wednesday now.”

The words had no meaning. “It can’t be --”
she protested. “I was just at my studio, I was working late --” But
if that were the case, she’d still be there, instead of in the
hospital. “What day is it? What calendar day.”

“March 20th.”

Good heavens. March already?
“How long
was I unconscious?”

“Seventeen hours,” the nurse answered.

With increasing concern, she said, “But, I
can’t remember anything since February.” She remembered Valentine’s
Day. Nigel had proposed. They’d been making wedding plans. She
remembered working on some projects, but it was definitely not
March.

The nurse smoothed her sheet. “That’s
perfectly normal. After a head injury, many people lose a little
memory. But it usually comes back eventually.”

Eventually?
That wasn’t encouraging.
Kelly wanted to remember it all, right now. “I want to see Nigel,”
she said with rising panic. “I have to talk to Nigel.” Whatever was
wrong, she wanted to make it right.

“Shh.” Her father patted her hand. “If you
want to talk to Nigel, I’ll get him.”

Within an hour, her fiancé Nigel stood in the
doorway of her private room. Tall and lean, with his dark shoulder
length hair pulled back into a neat little pony tail, he held a
huge bouquet of red roses. “Hi,” he said hesitantly, his dark eyes
clouded with worry.

Normally her heart jumped at the sight of
him, but today she was too agitated to feel anything. The crash
must have scrambled her emotions as well as her wits.

“Babe, I’m so sorry,” he said, his British
accent sounding more pronounced.

She dutifully turned her cheek for his kiss,
feeling a twinge of guilt. If she was going to dream about someone
kissing her, shouldn’t Nigel be her dream lover?

“I hear we had a fight,” she said
quietly.

His eyes were clouded. “You don’t
remember?”

“No.” She searched his face, hoping it would
prompt her memory. “Was it a bad fight, or just pre-wedding
nerves?”

He smiled suddenly and seemed to relax. “It
was nothing,” he said reassuringly. “It’s not even worth talking
about. You were right, I was wrong, and I’ll never do it
again.”

“Do what?”

“It doesn’t matter. Trust me.” He smiled. “I
don’t want to tell you and make you mad again. Let’s just say I’ve
learned from my mistake.”

A mistake? Was that what was worrying her? “I
don’t know what’s going on.” How could she have forgotten weeks of
her life?

“What’s going on is that I love you,” he said
smoothly. “What’s going on is that we’re getting married in June.
What’s going on is that I’m going to make you the happiest woman in
the world.”

He reached down, took her hand and brought it
to his lips for a kiss.

She sighed. He made it sound so simple, but
something was still wrong.

“You’re in pain,” he said. “You need to heal.
You’ll feel better after some sleep.”

Sleep? She’d been unconscious; she didn’t
need any more sleep. Tears filled her eyes. “I want to
remember.”

The nurse said, “Try not to worry about it.
Give your brain a rest.”

Kelly took a deep breath and let it out
slowly. Maybe they were right. She was too confused right now and
her head and her chest hurt.

All she knew was that she loved Nigel. He was
the man she was going to marry.

She trusted that everything would be
okay.

But she still wanted to remember.

CHAPTER ONE

TWO MONTHS LATER

Kelly sat outside on a bench with her best
friend Brenda. They ate lunch together once every other week. Since
Kelly’s schedule was more flexible than Brenda’s, they usually ate
at the park near the bank where Brenda worked.

The day was glorious: sunny and breezy. Kelly
looked up at the bright blue sky, grateful that she could wear a
tank top and a short drawstring cotton skirt instead of the black
pants and tailored shirt that Brenda had to wear. Brenda might be
more successful financially, but Kelly never wanted a corporate job
-- it would be much too confining. She liked being her own
boss.

Brenda took a bite of her chicken sandwich.
“Didn’t you bring anything to eat?”

“No, nothing sounded good.” She wrinkled her
nose. “I think I’m coming down with something. I don’t have a
fever, but my stomach’s been sour for days and I don’t have any
energy.”

“I hate being sick in the summer,” Brenda
commiserated. “At least in the winter, it seems appropriate to feel
lousy, but not on such a nice day.” She sipped from her water
bottle. “You should see a doctor. You don’t want be sick on your
wedding day.”

“No, that would be terrible.” She and Nigel
were getting married in three weeks. “The last thing I want to do
is barf on the minister when he says, ‘Do you take this man?’”

Brenda laughed, then her eyes narrowed. “Are
you pregnant?”

Kelly snorted. “No. You have to have sex to
get pregnant.”

“You’re not sleeping with Nigel?”

“No. We’re waiting.” Kelly smiled wryly at
the look on her friend’s face. “Not that Nigel isn’t impatient
sometimes, but he respects my desire for a white wedding.” Since
her car accident, he’d been particularly gentle with her while her
ribs were healing.

Brenda looked at her thoughtfully. “Are you
still a virgin?”

“You make it sound like there’s something
wrong with that.”

“No. I’m just surprised. I guess out of the
three amigas, you were the only one to keep the vow.”

Kelly had forgotten that. In sixth grade,
she, Brenda and Tiffany had made a vow to stay virgins until their
wedding night. They’d also planned to stay best friends forever and
all live on the same street when they were married so their kids
could play together. Over the years, she and Brenda had stayed in
touch, but Tiffany had flitted in and out of their lives. She’d
moved back to Dallas recently, and for old-time’s-sake, Kelly had
asked her to be one of her bridesmaids. Brenda was going to be her
maid of honor.

“Three amigas,” she mused. “That was a long
time ago. We were all so different. Tiffany was Miss Popular, you
were the --”

“Geek,” Brenda supplied.

Kelly smiled. “I was going to say ‘The
Brain.’”

“Thanks.” Brenda opened a small bag of potato
chips.

“And I was the weirdo.”

“No. You were ‘the artist.’”

The artist who hadn’t figured out what to do
with all her creative energies, yet. She hadn’t discovered until
college that she was a potter at heart. She didn’t make a great
living, now, but at least she could support herself.

“Well, good for you,” Brenda said with a
sigh. “I wish I had waited.”

Kelly didn’t comment. She’d never tell her
friend, but Brenda’s experiences were part of the reason why she’d
held out so long. Brenda had been chunky through all of grade
school and most of high school. Not fat, but dumpy, and no one had
asked her out. Then in her senior year, she’d grown four inches and
slimmed down to a willowy size eight. Suddenly she was in high
demand. Kelly tried to tell her friend to slow down and be careful,
but she hadn’t. She’d gotten pregnant, her boyfriend convinced her
to have an abortion, and once that was over, the jerk dumped
her.

It was a cautionary tale that Kelly had taken
to heart. Since then Brenda had a series of boyfriends, none of
them worth much. Her current flame was a very handsome attorney
named Steven -- he was married, but claimed to be separated. Brenda
had already broken up with him and taken him back twice.

Kelly wished Brenda could find someone like
Nigel -- someone fun who would adore her and treat her right.

Sometimes Kelly felt awkward, discussing her
wedding plans, knowing that her friend had a lousy love life. But
to her credit, Brenda wasn’t bitter. She genuinely wished her
well.