Mary Had a Little Problem (10 page)

Still, that doesn’t make this letter any easier to write.

Mary is happy with you. I’ve watched her as she’s planned for this day, this big day that never should’ve been, and she has that glow about her. You make her happy. I should know. She had that same spectacular smile when she was with me.

Rather than find the anger that will certainly surface at some point, I’ve chosen to be glad for you and for her. At the same time, I think it’s important that you know…I’m alive. What you do with that knowledge is your business.

As your friend, I’ll wish you well. Today is a special day for you and Mary. I don’t want to cause her pain. She’s your woman. She’s different now. I’ve seen significant changes as I’ve watched her. And while I’ve longed to go to her and tell her I didn’t die, I’m not sure that’s my place. Honestly, after what I heard about how she coped with losing me, I’m not sure she could take losing one of us all over again, and we both know that’s what would happen.

I don’t know how Mary would respond to the news that I’m alive. You know her better than I do. She’s fragile, and I don’t want to hurt her by reentering her life when the time isn’t right, and obviously, the date of her wedding isn’t the best day to resurface.

I remember one time you asked me to share her, and I immediately turned you down. It’s only fair that I ask the same, but I know what your answer will be. I also understand what you must’ve gone through all those months ago when you were the man on the outside, the man at the gates, awaiting an entry you never expected to be granted.

I miss you, friend. I do. I love you, too. You were like a brother to me. I choose to believe that’s why you’re with Mary now. I sort of think you were looking out for me by looking out for Mary.

Be the kind of man she deserves, Brock. Stay at her side and love her. Love her for both of us.

Luke

Brock crumpled the note in his hand and stared across the room through moist eyes fiercely burning. A mix of emotions spun through his veins—anger above all else.

Luke was indeed alive, but he hadn’t told them? He’d been watching Mary, knew of their engagement, but rather than approach them in Beaufort, or show his face in Afghanistan where he may have been when Brock was there searching for him, he decided to what? Reappear on his wedding day and expect Brock to make a choice in how to handle breaking the news to Mary?

He read the letter again. This time, when he finished reading Luke’s words, his heart threatened to stop. Luke wanted Mary to know he was alive. He hoped Brock would tell her the truth. And if he didn’t?

Then Brock would marry a woman who already had a husband.

Chapter Ten

Mary was jittery. She couldn’t stand still. She wasn’t sure why she was so nervous. When Brock first proposed, he’d assured her he would take care of everything. He’d also agreed to keep their ceremony brief and invited guests to a minimum. Mary didn’t want to look out over a crowded church and see the faces of strangers. Brock promised an intimate setting with a few close friends, somewhere quiet so afterward, they could spend some time together before Brock left again.

He’d taken care of everything, from hiring a minister to planning their honeymoon. A friend of his, someone Mary didn’t know, met him at Knoxville’s McGhee Tyson Airport, a short distance away, and drove him to Gatlinburg. After they were married, they’d honeymoon a few days in the mountains. Brock would leave for another month then rejoin her in Beaufort where they’d start their lives together.

Mary swallowed hard. She looked down at her trembling hands then wondered how much time she and Brock had been allotted. Would she know the heartache of losing the man she believed was her second chance at love? Or would they have the luxury of growing old together, of sitting side by side in rocking chairs as they listened to one another grumble about what to fix for dinner or what to watch on television?

Anna straightened Mary’s veil then smoothed her palm over her short train. She slid a kiss on her cheek and squeezed her hand. “Are you ready, lady?”

“I can’t wait,” Mary told her, walking toward the chapel entrance.

“I know that’s true,” Anna said, swinging open the double doors leading to the sanctuary.

As soon as the doors parted, Mary’s breath drifted away. There, at the end of the aisle, stood quite possibly the most handsome man in the world. Dressed in his elegant navy blue suit, Brock looked like he’d just stepped away from a formal inspection. The dark material was trimmed in red, and large gold buttons lined the front. He wore the white hat with blue brim and his coat was decorated in ribbons and marksmanship badges in lieu of medals.

She noticed everything about him as she walked down the aisle, quickly separating the distance between them. His eyes met and held hers before she ever started strolling across the white runner rolled down the chapel’s center.

Carrying a small bouquet of assorted spring flowers, Mary couldn’t help but catch an occasional hint of the fresh fragrance as she slowly approached the man she’d marry, the one she’d grown to adore.

The music began to play. Three or four steps into the wedding march, she noticed a true sadness in Brock’s eyes, something she’d never seen before. Brock was distraught, deeply troubled by something.

Reaching him, she took his hand and he slid a quick peck on her lips. “I missed you,” he said, though he didn’t smile. He squeezed her fingers, and together they walked toward the minister who stood in front of the small altar.

Facing one another then, Brock cupped her cheek and dropped a kiss on her lips again. “I will always love you. Never doubt that, okay?”

“You know I won’t,” Mary assured him, wondering why he was acting so strange.

The minister then turned to Brock. “Mary tells me you’ve written your own vows.”

Brock took a deep breath, and with a slight nod to indicate that was accurate, he waited for the minister to greet their guests.

“We are gathered here today…” the minister began.

Mary zoned out then. She studied Brock’s worrisome expression and wondered if their time apart had been a blessing or a curse. Had he decided, after he proposed, that he didn’t love her? Or did the look on his face have absolutely nothing to do with her? Had he been on a tour that he wouldn’t soon forget? Had he drawn his gun, killed for his country, and ultimately taken the lives of strangers because it was his job, his duty?

Before Mary’s angst took hold and apprehension gained the best of her, the minister said, “Mary? Do you have something you’d like to share with Brock today?”

Mary smiled, handed off her bouquet to Anna, and slid her hands in Brock’s, prepared to recite her vows. “I love you,” she began.

“I know,” he rasped, leaning forward and grinning this time.

Finally, the Brock she knew and loved resurfaced. She could do this now. She was reassured of his love, and the fact that he must’ve wanted to marry her. After all, she reminded herself, he’d proposed on the phone in order for them to make plans to wed as soon as he secured a granted leave.

Glancing down at their adjoined hands, she noticed the way the tremors suddenly subsided. And that’s when she changed her mind about the vows she’d written and decided to speak from the heart. “Your hand steadies me. Your voice calms me. Your touch grounds me. Your kiss soothes me. Your body feeds me. Your love makes me whole.” A beat later she added, “I’m proud to take you as my husband. I’m proud to say you chose me as your wife.”

She took her time describing precisely how she felt about the man who’d stormed into her life without warning, without regard for the grief he refused to let her face alone. Brock was her rock. He was her foundation. He was destined to become her husband.

She smiled at him then, tilted her head to indicate that’s all she wanted to say, and he recited his vows. “Your eyes seduce me. Your beauty intoxicates me. Your kiss invigorates me. You have captured my mind, my body, my heart, and my soul. You make me the man I’ve always wanted to be. I will love you more than you ever thought you could be loved. This is my promise, forever.”

About that time, Brock pursed his lips and closed his eyes. When he opened them again, they were full of tears, but the tears threatening to spill were not joyous or sentiments held for a special celebration. Something had changed between them.

Before Mary could ask him what was wrong, he answered all her questions. “As much as I can promise to forever love you, I cannot marry you.”

Anna gasped behind her. Mary stared at him blankly. Her heart threatened to collapse right there as she awaited an explanation. “Brock?” She finally managed to say his name as her pulse quickened and her nerves shattered around her. “Why are you doing this?”

He took a deep breath, squared his shoulders, and with every inch of the soldier coming forward in what she translated as cool arrogance and false pride, he slipped a kiss on her cheek, and with tears pooling in the corners of his eyes, he said, “You aren’t mine to claim.”

“What do you mean I’m not yours?” Mary screeched, glancing at Anna, who looked as confused as she felt. “I love you.”

“I love you, too, Mary,” he assured her, peeling away the tight fingers wrapped around his wrist. “I still can’t marry you.”

He turned his back to her and took the first step away from the minister. As Mary’s jaw dropped, she stood there with her arms at her sides, searching the eyes of those in the congregation—four military couples she didn’t know, but apparently just as curious as she was about the groom’s sudden change of heart.

Brock had almost reached the door when she lost it. “This is what you do, isn’t it?” A beat later, she screamed at those there to witness a marriage that wouldn’t happen, “This is what all of you do. You leave! It doesn’t matter if it’s in the dead of winter or the highest heat of summer. It doesn’t matter if you have children to care for or dying parents in their beds. You don’t care who you leave behind, because all that matters, all that’s important, is fighting for the next cause, drawing your weapons for the next battle that will never be won!”

She clenched her fists. Anna didn’t stop her. The rage grabbed hold and Mary continued, “You’re cowards. All of you! That’s what you are! You use the military to protect you because you don’t want to love freely or without conditions. You don’t want family responsibilities because you don’t want anyone to get close enough to destroy you like you know you’re destined to devastate them!”

Brock kept walking. His body was rigid. His head bowed.

“That’s right, you go, Brock Taylor. You go and don’t you ever look back! Do you hear me?” Tears streamed down her face.

She turned to Anna and searched her sister’s eyes. Anna tilted her head and cried too. “Honey, I’m so sorry,” she said, reaching for her. “Let me go talk to him.”

“No,” Mary said, shaking her head vehemently. “If he doesn’t want me, I’ll live alone. I’ve been humiliated enough.”

“I told you to love her.” A loud rasp overpowered the whispers in the chapel. “I didn’t ask you to leave her.” The recognizable voice filled the chapel and stilled her heart.

“Oh my God,” Anna whispered, lifting her head and staring at someone behind Mary.

“You know Mary’s right. You’re a coward, Brock Taylor.”

Brock turned to face his accuser. Mary searched his eyes and saw how much he loved her, saw how much he was willing to sacrifice, and she slowly turned to see who stood behind her, recognizing every inch of the hard flesh covered in dress whites. “Oh my God,” she choked out, her hand covering her mouth. “This can’t be.”

“Hi, doll,” Luke drawled. “Did you miss me?”

Chapter Eleven

Mary had a little problem. So as far as she was concerned, she could lie on that church floor until the cows came home. She hoped they didn’t arrive anytime soon. It was better to pretend she was still out cold than to open her eyes and acknowledge the facts. Luke was there, and for some reason, he chose one hell of a time to come back.

“Mary,” Brock said gently, gathering her in his arms. “Honey, are you okay?”

Sure. She was perfect. What the hell did he think? She was about to marry the person she loved, the man who saved her from despair, and the source behind her grief walked back into her life and chose quite possibly the most inconvenient time to do that.

She was just swell, so great in fact, that she didn’t think she’d ever survive the fallout from all this chaos. Then there was the obvious—Luke was alive! The husband she thought she’d lost had returned to her.

“Mary? Mary, honey, sit up,” Anna encouraged her, swiping her brow with a wet rag. “Just what were the two of you thinking?” A beat later, she addressed Luke. “You’re something else, you know that? When did you decide to live again, hmm? What are you doing here, Luke? Hmm? Why would you wait until Mary had a stab at happiness to do this?” Another second passed and she said, “And you, I expected more from you, Brock. How could you do this? How could you walk out on her? Don’t you know how much she fears being left behind by those she loves most?”