An April Bride (8 page)

“Are you sure?” Stella asked. “You still have nearly all your lunch hour left.”

“Which I’ll use to take an afternoon coffee break,” Patty said, her expressive eyes sending Stella a message. “Go ahead. Enjoy being with your fiancé.”

Marshall looked straight into Stella’s eyes. “First time I’ve heard it put that way. I guess I am your fiancé.”

Stella’s heart fluttered and crashed. Why did he look like a deer caught in the headlights? “That’s entirely up to you,” she replied. “You don’t have to be my anything if you’re not ready.”

“Let’s get some food.” He walked past her and started talking to Mr. Denham.

Stella had no choice but to follow, but she turned and shot Patty a confused look, then in desperation straightened
the sugar and cream bar. Her friend motioned for her to go ahead.

Swallowing her qualms, Stella said a quick prayer for discernment and plastered a smile on her face. “I’m starving,” she said as she waved to the other lunch customers and chatted with them to steady her nerves. When she reached Marshall, she asked, “What are we having today?”

Marshall followed her to a table in the corner. “Mr. Doug says I used to love the chili. Did I?”

Stella couldn’t stay hurt when he appealed to her in such a sweet way. “You sure did. At least two bowls every time we came in here.”

“Chili it is,” he said. After he’d given a waitress their order, including a salad for Stella, Marsh leaned over the table. “Mr. Doug said you’re the one who convinced him and his wife to manage this place a few years ago. Is that true?”

This was hard. He’d been so proud of her for trying to help the lonely couple. “It was selfish on my part,” she said, telling her hurting heart to straighten up. “I loved all the good food he and Miss Anne brought to the church dinners. So I asked my aunt Glenda—she owns the bookstore and this building—if we could open up this wall and put in a little café.” She shrugged. “When I told her I thought the Denhams would be great at running it, she agreed. And here we are.”

Marshall put his hand up to his mouth to hide his next words. “Don’t be so modest,” he whispered. “He told me you saved both of them by creating a new purpose for them after their only son died in a car accident.”

Stella was surprised, and a little gasp escaped before she could control herself. “He said that?”

Marshall nodded. “Just a minute ago when you were still standing over there and I was already over here. I think it might have been during that minute when you were wondering what you’d gotten yourself into, sticking with a man who can’t even remember who you are. Am I right?”

Stella looked everywhere but into his eyes. She didn’t want to hurt his feelings, so she went back to the subject of the Denhams. “They were depressed and lonely, and I hated seeing the hurt in their eyes, so yes, I might have had ulterior motives but . . . we’ve all benefited from it. They’re here most days, and when they want to travel or take a few days off, they have a well-trained staff to help, including my mother at times and even my aunt.”

He grabbed her hand. Stella finally scanned his face, thinking he was upset with her. “What?”

Marshall’s smile was indulgent and real. A real smile, just for her. “You’re amazing, you know that?”

Stella waited to respond until the waitress placed their food on the table. “What . . . what do you mean?”

“You’re a kind, considerate person, Stella. Anyone can see that, even old amnesiac me. You go out of your way to make me comfortable and to spare my feelings.” He held her hand. “But don’t think you’re fooling me one bit. I’ve seen how this situation has hurt you.”

“I’m fine,” she said while she blinked back tears. “Really, I’ll be okay.”
If you still want to marry me.

“Will you?” he asked, his eyes full of questions and his words reflecting her feelings. “Do you still want to marry me, Stella? Or are you just going along with this because it’s too late to turn back?”

M
arshall saw the pain in Stella’s pretty face. This was a woman who always had a positive outlook on life. But having him back in her life had shaken her to the core. How could it not?

He stared across the little round table, the steaming bowl of chili forgotten in front of him. “We don’t have to do this, you know. We can postpone the wedding or . . . not get married at all.”

“You don’t want to marry me, do you?”

The hurt and shock in her eyes made Marshall feel like a first-class loser. “I don’t know what I want right now. It’s hard to piece together so many shredded memories. My therapist thinks I have what they call hysterical amnesia.”

Stella gave him a sympathetic look. “I read up on that and every other kind of amnesia. I’m trying to do what I can to help jar your memories. Am I pushing too hard, too fast?”

“No,” he replied. “You’ve been great. Everything you’ve
done, all the places you’ve shown me, that’s helped put some of the pieces in place.” He shrugged and finally starting eating. “I’ve always liked things in order. I like control and a plan. I get that in the Army. I can remember football games where I’d study the plays over and over so I’d have a certain picture in my mind. I can’t do that now. Now it’s just a blank page. Nothing.”

She toyed with her salad and then finally put down her fork. “I’m trying to help you fill in those pages,” she said, her head down, her fingers clutching a cracker. “But if you don’t want to go back to . . . us . . . I can understand. You’ve been through so much.”

“I want to go through something good, something solid and sure,” he retorted. “I made a promise to you before I left, and I intend to carry through on that promise.”

The cracker fell to her plate. “Because you love me and want to be with me? Or because you’re an honorable man who always keeps his promises, no matter what?”

How could he explain this to her without breaking her heart? “I’ve enjoyed getting to know you again. I like being with you. Can’t that be enough for now?”

“It could be,” she said, her voice low. “But is that any way to start a marriage, to plan a life together?”

“There are worse ways to spend your life,” he replied.

“That’s not a very reassuring answer.” She stared down at her salad. “I think I’ll have Mr. Denham wrap this up for later. I’m not that hungry after all.”

She started to get up, but Marshall pulled her back down by the hand. “Stella, I’m saying this all wrong, but I’m not ready to give up on us just yet. We agreed on a few weeks.
We’ve got less than three weeks until the wedding. And you still have to show me the cake and the color theme and . . . all of our shower gifts.”

Her expression had gone from forlorn and defeated to surprised and intrigued. “How do you know about all that?”

“Oh, you’re not the only one who’s been trying to fill in the blanks in my brain. My mother has been chattering almost nonstop about all of the above.”

“It’s still hard on her. She’s been so excited about this wedding.”

“Very hard.” He swallowed, ran a finger across Stella’s palm. “I hear her crying sometimes, but she never lets me see. She’s strong and good, and my dad—well, he just walks around in his own quiet way. But he’s always willing to listen when I get frustrated.”

“You have good parents, Marsh,” she said, her tone more relaxed now. “We both do.” She put her other hand in his. “But none of them expect us to go into something we’re not sure about.”

“You were sure.” He squeezed her hand. “I have that to go on and . . . I’m trusting in God. He brought me home, Stella. He brought me home to you. I don’t take that lightly.”

She let out a little sigh. “That’s one of the things I’ve always loved about you. You always do the right thing.” She let go of his hands, got up, and gave him a soft smile. “Even if it’s for the wrong reasons.”

“Hey, this isn’t wrong,” he replied, trying to keep her from walking away. “Give me time and . . . show me all the things that go into a wedding.”

She nodded and gave him another wobbly smile. “The first thing is love.” Then she hurried to the counter and asked for a to-go box for her salad.

That night Stella opened the front door of Flower Bend and let Marshall inside.

“Welcome,” she said, still reeling from their lunch conversation. “This is where I grew up.” She motioned him into the open foyer with the sweeping, freestanding curved staircase. “You used to spend a lot of time here.”

Marshall let out a whistle. “Impressive. And old, from what my mom tells me.”

“It’s close to one hundred and forty years old,” she explained, trying to imagine her home through his eyes. “Flower Bend was built in the late 1800s, a few years after the Civil War was over.”

He pointed out a window toward the front yard. “And on the river, at that.”

“Yes, right across the road. You can see it from the second-floor porch. This place has seen storms and floods and a lot of good and bad times.”

Their eyes met over that statement. Marsh didn’t waver. Stella felt a current of understanding pass between them.

“Show me the rest,” he said. “And show me our shower gifts. I hear that’s a really big deal with women.”

She had to laugh at that. After their lunch, he’d followed her back into the bookstore and insisted on coming to visit
Flower Bend tonight. And here she’d thought he wanted to end things with her. But no. Marshall was determined to see this through to the bitter end. And that end could be bitter and tragic for both of them if they weren’t careful.

She’d had to do some hard praying to allow this to continue. But both Stella’s friend Rhonda and her mother agreed that if they ended things now, it wouldn’t help either of them. In fact, it might put Marshall into an even deeper tailspin. He’d feel as if he’d let her down.

And she’d feel as if her heart would never heal.

“You love him, Stella,” Rhonda had told her this afternoon on the phone, the baby wailing in the background while she tried to calm Stella’s nerves. “I’m your matron of honor, so listen to me. Give him time. If you have to postpone the wedding, do it in a kind and loving way or you’ll spook him.” Then she’d added, “But he’ll fall for you all over again, so quit worrying.”

But she did worry. How could she and Marsh build a marriage on so many swirling doubts and emotions? Where was the love in that?

Dear God, I hope I made the right decision today at lunch
. She’d come close to calling off the wedding, but something in his passionate plea to make this work had touched her.

“C’mon in,” she said, guiding him down the central hallway into a cozy paneled den in the back of the house. Just off the den, the deep wraparound porch offered rocking chairs and a view of the backyard. Magnolia trees and crepe myrtles vied for attention along the paths and walkways, and colorful orange and white daylilies and azalea bushes with hot pink blooms shined in the growing dusk. The hydrangeas
her mother so loved carried into the backyard too, with several massive bushes in sunny areas.

She waited while Marshall took it all in.

“Beautiful.”

She turned to agree and found his eyes on her instead of the yard. Did he like her floral sundress? She’d worn it a dozen times before and he’d seen her in it. Did it bring back memories?

“Uh, do you want a glass of mint tea?”

He nodded. “That’d be great.”

She moved through the den and into the big country kitchen across the way. “Mama and Daddy are out in the garden, picking a bushel of cucumbers and peppers for your mom.”

“She’ll enjoy that.” He lifted his nose and sniffed. “Something sure smells good.”

Stella turned to where he stood between the den and the kitchen. “We’re having pot roast for dinner.”

“I love pot roast.”

“My mother knows that,” she said, hoping to lighten the situation. “We’re all conspiring to smother you with good food and a lot of hugs and memories.” She handed him a crystal goblet full of rich, sweet tea with lemon and a sprig of mint. “We’re determined to bring out all the memories you’re holding dear.”

He stopped and gave her a look full of awareness. “I do hold them dear. I do.”

Stella could see something different in his expression. “I didn’t mean to tease you. I’m sorry.”