An April Bride (2 page)

She got up and went over to the mahogany armoire where her wedding dress had pride of place and unzipped the white protective garment bag. Then she touched one of the shimmering seed pearls scattered down the gathered satin skirt. “Even after he returned from Germany, he didn’t want me to come up to Maryland to see him, so I honored that request. He just seems so distant on the phone, not like himself. I worry that he’s not telling me everything.” She pulled at her clothes. “I’m beginning to wonder if his mom and dad have been keeping something from me, maybe to honor his wishes.”

Her mother got up and came to stand by her. “I’m sure he’s gone through all kinds of emotions, darling. From what I’ve heard, too, head wounds can be mighty tricky. But he’s much better now. Gerald and Kitten wouldn’t keep anything bad from you unless Marshall requested it. His parents love you as much as they love him. He’s healing now, and he’s coming home to marry you.”

Stella stared at the white satin wedding dress, her dreams caught in a net of doubt. “If he still loves me, he should have let me come to visit him in Maryland, Mama.”

The
New Orleans sun shot a golden path across the tarmac. Stella stood at the airport escalator waiting for Marshall to come down to the baggage claim area. Her heart roared a beat that rivaled the loud engines on the plane.

What would Marsh say? How would he act? Had he had second thoughts about marrying her? Did he want to stay single? Or did he just want to be away from her?

He told you he
loved
you.

Well, when she’d told him on the phone how much she loved him, he’d been silent for a moment, and then he’d replied, “Me too. I mean, I love you.”

Why did he seem to think about that a moment too long?

“Stop fidgeting, honey.”

Stella pivoted to see her daddy, Ralph, smiling down at her. “Sorry. I’m nervous. We haven’t seen each other in almost a year, and when I’m on the phone with him, I do most of the talking. Things change, Daddy. People can change too.”

He patted her on the arm. “Have faith, suga’. A soldier’s life is always hard, but you know Marshall and you know his heart. He loves you. That won’t change.”

She smiled up at her daddy, but Stella had to wonder about his reassuring words. Love could change in a heart-beat. She’d never worried about that before. Her life along the Old River Road had been happy and idyllic, to say the least. She had good friends, a loving family, and a strong faith community. And she’d always had Marshall. He was more than the boy next door. He was the love of her life. But
if he didn’t feel the same way, she’d be destroyed. She’d have to cancel the wedding.

She looked up to find Marshall’s mother staring at her. Was that a look of pity or compassion? Kitten came over and took Stella’s hands in hers. “It’s gonna be all right, Stella. He loves you. Remember that, okay?”

Sure now that something was wrong, Stella held tight to her future mother-in-law’s hands. “What’s wrong, Miss Kitten?”

“Here they come,” her mother called, motioning Stella toward the group of passengers coming toward them. “C’mon, Stella. You need to be the first person Marshall sees.”

Stella glanced between her mother and Kitten Henderson, wishing she could be more confident. But right now, the tension moving through her made her want to run to the nearest exit. Kitten turned and pushed Stella toward the rush of people coming off the plane. And then Stella saw Marshall—tall, strong, his dark hair longer now. He was wearing civilian clothes but he looked gaunt and tired, and he had a scar near his left temple.

She had to wonder what other kinds of scars he might be hiding.

Then Marsh searched the area and his eyes met hers.

Stella started toward him, ready to rush into his arms.

But for some reason she stopped short and stood staring up at him, her heart racing with love—and panic. “Marsh?” she said, fear filling her heart. “Marsh, are you all right?”

He stood a foot away, his blue eyes as bright as ever. But something was missing. He almost didn’t seem to know her.

“Marsh?”

“Stella?” It was more of a question than a statement.

Stella moved a step closer. “It’s me. In the flesh.”

Then, because she was so afraid, so concerned, she made the move toward him and lifted her arms to hug him close. “You’re home. At last. I missed you so much. I was so worried.”

He folded her into his arms and, after a moment, held tight. “I missed you too. We have a lot to talk about.”

Relief poured through Stella. “We sure do. Just a month until our wedding.”

He pulled back and gave her a long, confused stare. “The wedding. We . . . uh . . . we need to talk about that too.”

Then Kitten was there, tugging him into her arms. Wiping at tears, she sent a helpless look toward her husband, Gerald. “We all want to catch up, but you’re tired. Better get you home and all settled in.”

Marsh hugged his mother but then slipped away from her. “I want to talk to Stella. Alone.”

Stella’s whole system went cold. “I brought my car. Mama and Daddy rode with your parents.” She whirled to find Kitten and her mother staring at them. “Is that okay?”

Kitten looked up at Marshall. “Will you be all right?”

“I’m fine,” he said, his voice threaded with fatigue. “I promise we’ll be home soon.” Then he grinned, and for a minute he looked like the old Marsh. “I can’t wait to eat some gumbo.”

“We’ll have it ready,” Gerald said, his tone cautious.

As they all walked out of the airport together and found their cars, Stella kept glancing at Marshall’s parents then back to him. Something was wrong, so wrong.

This man wasn’t the Marshall she’d always loved. Despite his hug, he was like a stranger. His words and actions seemed stilted and unsure, as if he’d rehearsed them over and over.

When they reached her red Miata convertible, he stopped and looked surprised. “I don’t know if I can fit in that little thing.”

She laughed at that. “You were with me the day I bought it. You got in on the passenger side and your knees went up against the dashboard. Remember?”

He turned to her then, and she saw it in his sweet eyes before he stated the obvious. “No, honestly, Stella, I don’t remember.”

W
hat do you mean?” Stella maneuvered the little two-seater through the airport traffic. “You don’t remember this car? Me?” She swallowed hard. “Or us?” If he was suffering from memory problems, that would explain how confused and abrupt he’d sounded in some of their phone calls. Yet he’d never let on in any other way.

Marsh gave her a quick glance, then stared down at his hands. “This is so hard. Harder than I ever imagined. I don’t remember a lot of things. Remembering comes and goes. It’s mostly from the concussion, but the PTSD only makes things worse.”

She looked at his scar. It moved from his left temple up to his forehead with a jagged zigzag. “You were hurt worse than you told me,” she said, her mind moving in the same kind of zigzag pattern. “Is that why you didn’t want to see me?”

His sheepish expression told her there was more. “Let’s
stop somewhere so we can talk. Mom and Dad won’t mind waiting awhile.”

She nodded, too numb to do anything but drive. When she saw a little roadside park just outside of the city, she exited the highway and pulled up underneath the thick umbrella of an old live oak. Putting the car in park, she turned in the seat. “You need to tell me everything, Marsh.”

He nodded and seemed to search for the right words. “Yes, I do. I wanted to wait until we were face-to-face. This is why I didn’t want you to fly to Germany or come up to Maryland. So let me explain, okay?”

Stella swallowed back a retort, the tone of his voice warning her away from any protests or questions. “I’m listening.”

Marsh took a deep breath. “Our Humvee got hit when that IED exploded and we all went every which way. A piece of shrapnel hit me right in the head.” He pointed to his scar. “Hit me there, and I was bleeding everywhere, but the driver took the worst of the explosion. He didn’t make it. Several of us were ejected when we crashed, and I hit my head on a rock.”

“So you had two head wounds.” She reached up to touch his face, her fingers moving lightly over the scar. She should have been there at the hospital, she kept thinking. She should have known what was going on. His parents had kept her up-to-date, but when they’d returned home, they’d only told her about the gash and that he had a concussion and that he was healing and going through therapy.

Why hadn’t anyone told her the truth? All these months of worry and an aching heart and . . . he’d been hiding the worst of it from her. How could they build a marriage on that?

“Yes, two wounds,” he said, taking her hand away from his face but holding it close. “The scar you can see and another one.”

“The one that’s causing you to have memory problems.”

Again, he nodded. “It’s also causing post-traumatic stress. For a while, I couldn’t remember anything.”

“But you’re better, right?”

She prayed he would tell her that he was much better, that he remembered her and their engagement. And their wedding plans.

“I’m getting better every day. I didn’t remember my parents until a few days after I woke up.”

Stella got out of the car and paced underneath the tree, memories of his confusion and agitation when she’d visited him sharply in focus now. When he walked toward her, she stopped to gaze up at him. “Marsh, do you remember me? I mean, really remember me?”

He looked away, giving her the answer. When he turned back, she could see the fear and dread in his blue eyes. “I . . . I’ve had a hard time remembering anything. Mom and Dad were great, even when I didn’t recognize them. I was kind of out of it, and I didn’t handle things very well at first, especially seeing you. I didn’t want anyone to know. But the doctors had to prepare my parents for their first visit with me. They brought photo albums and . . . cards I’d sent them, stuff from high school. Things like that. When they mentioned you and the wedding, I . . . I drew a blank.”

Stella gasped and held a hand to her mouth. “Are you telling me that you really don’t remember anything at all about me or asking me to marry you?”

He took her hands in his. “I’m sorry, I don’t. Not yet anyway.”

Stella tried to find a way to breathe. “Our wedding is at the end of the month—”

“I know,” he said, his tone low and gravelly. “Mom kept me posted.”

Anger overtook Stella’s fear. “But I talked to you on the phone about the wedding. I went on and on. You should have told me right away. We could have changed the date. We can postpone it if you think—”

“I don’t know what to think,” he said, his eyes full of a quiet despair. “I have these shards of memory, but the doctor said I might not ever get everything back.”

“Meaning me? Meaning us and our love and our wedding?”

She didn’t need him to give her an answer. She understood now why he’d asked her to stay away. Why he’d sounded so distant and stilted on the phone and why he’d acted so strange when he arrived. “Your parents knew and they never said a word to me or my family.”

“Don’t be mad at them. I begged them to wait. I didn’t want to hurt you. I kept thinking I’d get better.”

“And all this time, you . . . you didn’t trust me enough to tell me this?”

“I don’t know who to trust,” he said, his frustration visible in his flushed face. “I’m lost, Stella. Lost in a cloud of partial memories. I want to remember. I’ve seen pictures of us together, and I want to remember so much.”

“What if you never do?” she asked, her heart cracking with a piercing pain. “We can’t get married like this.”

“That’s what I wanted to talk to you about,” he replied as he pulled her down onto a bench. “I’m not sure I can go through with this wedding.”