An April Bride (6 page)

“So do you want to go? We haven’t eaten our food, but you can take it home with you.”

“No.” He decided he wouldn’t ruin this time with her. Maybe if he pushed through that wall that blocked his past, their past, maybe he’d be able to overcome his fears. He took a deep breath and silently counted to ten. “I think we should have a picnic right there under that old tree.”

“Really?”

He loved the excitement in her eyes. “Really.”

“I left some old blankets in the hall closet,” she said. “Let me get one and we’ll spread it out and . . . eat our lunch. What a great idea!”

Marshall watched her hurrying down the short hallway, her cute flowery sandals clicking on the polished hardwood floor. How could any man not fall head over heels in love with Stella?

Dear God, bring back that feeling for me. Help me to show this woman that I can honor our promise to each other. Help me to find those precious memories that I’ve hidden away
.

He finished his prayer and followed Stella. “I want to see the rest of our house.”

She met him in the hallway with a big faded blue blanket. “You said ‘our.’ Our house.”

“I guess I did.”

She looked as if she wanted to say more, but she dropped her head and started again. “Okay. A nice master bedroom on the right with a bath—our dads remodeled that for us. They teased me about making the closet bigger—all those shoes, you know.” She moved across the hall. “And two smaller bedrooms on the left. I haven’t finished those yet. I was waiting for you—”

“To come back to you,” he finished. He took the blanket from her. “Let’s eat, and then you can tell me everything. I want to hear how I fell in love with you the first time.”

“The first time?” Her question was shy, but her eyes held a deep, abiding hope.

“Yes, so I can enjoy it all over again when I fall in love with you for the second time.”

Stella’s heart was full of joy.

She and Marshall had a wonderful day. Showing him the house had helped to unlock something deep inside that he’d held away. She could see the difference in him with each story she told him. They’d talked about the house, and she’d explained how they’d made a bid but the seller had counter-offered with a price over their budget. So they’d looked at their finances again and made another offer. Finally the seller had agreed to sell it to them.

“We celebrated that night, right here underneath this tree,” she told him while they ate their food. “I didn’t want to mention it since you seem to get frustrated if I throw too much at you.”

“Tell me now,” he said, giving her an encouraging nod.

“The house had been empty for a while, and the yard was a mess, so you carried me through the tall grass and . . . well, you know.”

“Know what? Tell me what I can’t remember, Stella.”

She’d blushed at that request. “You kissed me, right here, and told me that one day our children would have a swing underneath this old oak.”

“You didn’t mention that part before.”

“No. I . . . I was afraid you wouldn’t want to hear that.”

“You’re right. I don’t want to talk about kissing you. I want to
try
kissing you.”

Instead of getting angry or aggravated, he’d leaned over and, well, he’d kissed her. Right there in broad daylight.

Now Stella was home and dusk was falling over Flower Bend, and she stood in her favorite spot on the upper porch and closed her eyes. She thanked God for that gentle kiss. It had been a soft, sweet touch of his lips to hers, but she’d felt its power. She was pretty sure he had too.

Marshall was coming back to her. Everything would be all right. She’d taken him all over town, showing him the places they’d been together, showing him the parks and the stores and the high school and the spot on the river where he’d proposed to her. During their afternoon together, something had changed between them.

He had hinted at falling for her all over again, and she was surely falling for him in a new way. She still loved him, no matter what.

Now she was tired, but elated too.

“Tomorrow will bring more memories,” she said to
herself. “He’ll come back to me. I just have to hold on and keep praying.”

Marshall woke up that night in a cold sweat.

He’d had the dream again, the dream he never shared with anyone except his therapists. In the dream, he could see himself from above. He was lying on a dusty, rocky road, reaching out a hand to someone in the distance. His buddies were lying all around him, some moaning for help and some silent and still.

He couldn’t reach his weapon. He couldn’t move.

In the gray mist of that scene, he could see a smiling woman walking toward him. She was wearing a brilliant white wedding gown and holding out her hand.

He sat up in bed, gulped in air, and ran a hand over his damp hair. Then he rubbed his eyes. The dream had changed. Now he knew the woman in the dream was Stella.

It had always been Stella. She’d been on his mind, even when he was unconscious and unable to put a name to her face.

In the dream, he screamed for her to run, to go away. But the explosion always hit before she could understand.

And he always woke up before he could save her.

W
ant some more coffee, honey?”

Marshall glanced up at his mother. She meant well, but she’d been hovering ever since he returned home.

Home. He was slowly starting to remember more. His doctors had told him it might take time. But he didn’t have enough time to recover a lifetime of memories. He wanted to remember everything before he married Stella. Seeing the house on Sunday had added to his anxiety. The dreams were coming almost every night now.

“Marshall?”

“Oh, sorry, Mom.” He lifted his cup. “I could use a top off.”

Marshall stared down at the morning paper. He didn’t want his mother to see the fatigue in his face. “Where’s Dad?”

She poured the dark brew into his cup before refilling her own. “Your daddy went over to visit Ralph. They’re working on the dining room table.”

“For the house, the one Stella showed me yesterday.”

Kitten handed him another apple muffin. “Yes, that’s right. I didn’t want to ask how your day went last night, but you had a smile on your face when you got home.”

He smiled now. His mother had the patience of Job. And the heart of Mary. She’d been so good to him, allowing him space, never pestering him about his dark moods. Everyone was tiptoeing around him these days. Everyone except Stella.

She read him like a book. But then, she did love books and she was an avid reader. Maybe that gave her an edge on people’s emotions. Or maybe he had a big crush on his bride already.

His forgotten bride.

He glanced at his mother’s expectant face. “So you want to know about how it went yesterday?”

Kitten wiped the counter for the third time. “If you want to talk about it.”

He broke off a piece of the moist muffin and chewed it. “Stella is amazing. She’s so full of life, so positive. I mean, I walk back into her life, half the man I used to be, and she still believes in me, still seems to love me—”

He stopped, took a sip of coffee. “I guess you want to hear about the house, huh?”

Kitten wiped at her eyes. “No, no. I love hearing about you and Stella. I was so afraid—”

“That I’d refuse to go through with the wedding?”

His mother bobbed her head and grabbed a paper towel to wipe her eyes. “You two belong together, Marshall. I know it’s so hard, but you and Stella were . . . are . . . the real deal.”

“I’m beginning to see that,” he admitted. “And Mom, the
house is nice. It looks like a home. I want it to be our home, but I also want to remember the house before it becomes our home.”

“Are you regaining some of your memory?” She sank down on the stool next to him and put her elbows on the big counter. “Did you remember anything more yesterday?”

“I did,” he said. “I remembered that her daddy refurbished that old chest you had out in the garage.”

“Yes, he sure did,” Kitten said, clasping her hands together. “He’s so good at that, and your daddy’s taken a liking to helping him. The dining room set is going to be gorgeous.”

“Maybe I’ll ride over there to see it,” Marshall said. He was pretty sure he could remember how to get to Flower Bend.

“I could drive you,” his mother offered.

“No, Mom. You showed me the house the other day, and I memorized the way. It’s not that far.”

“Okay.” She patted him on the hand. “I guess I’d better get ready for my committee meeting at the church.”

Sorry that he’d been short with her, Marshall swirled on his stool. “Oh, Mom, where are the letters you found with my personal belongings?”

She put her hands on her hips, but Marsh saw the sympathy in her eyes. “You mean the letters from Stella and us? You told us to ship them home.” Stepping back toward him, she asked, “So you want to see them?”

“Yes.”

“Your father put your duffel bag in the attic. Until you were ready to go through all of that.”

“I’m ready now,” he said. “I think I’ll sort through my things and then maybe go see Dad and Mr. Carson later.”

“That sounds like a busy day,” his mother replied. “Oh, and don’t forget, you have an appointment with your therapist tomorrow.”

“I’ve got it on my phone,” he said, tapping his pocket.

“I read that these fancy new phones can be such a boon to amnesia victims. Like a little electronic cheat sheet.”

“I have to agree with that,” he said. “I have lots of notes in here, trust me.”

After his mother left, Marshall went upstairs to open the drop-down stairs to the attic. But his phone buzzed before he’d even tugged on the cord.

“Marshall, it’s Nick.”

Nick? His best friend growing up and his best man for the wedding. He waited for an image of Nick’s face to pop into his brain. “Hi. What’s up?”

“Just didn’t get to talk to you much at your homecoming party the other night. Thought we might get a bite of lunch and catch up.”

He could tell Nick was trying to choose his words carefully. “Sure. I’d like that. Name the time and place.”

Nick suggested a country-style diner. “Do you remember the Roxie Diner?”

“No,” Marshall said with a chuckle. “I’m teasing. I have an image in my head. Tell me the address and I’ll find it. I’ll meet you there around noon.”

After they’d firmed up the plans, Marshall opened the folding stairs and climbed up to the hot attic. Old toys,
Christmas decorations, and several large boxes greeted him. Wishing he had time to go through everything up here, he looked around. He saw his heavy green duffel bag sitting in the corner,
Henderson
letter-blocked on it. A flash of memory drifted by. Soldiers talking and laughing. A pickup football game in the hot desert air. A mess hall full of voices, laughing, talking, eating. Then a blast going off, people running, commands shouted over the many voices. He could see himself and several other soldiers getting in the Humvee and driving away. Away toward the danger.

His whole system screaming, Marshall climbed down and pushed the attic stairs back into their slot in the ceiling before shutting the door. He sat down on the stair landing, took in great breaths of air, and willed his heart to stop racing. Maybe he wasn’t ready to go through his things after all. Especially letters from home.