Treasure on Lilac Lane: A Jewell Cove Novel (12 page)

Jess felt terrible as she looked at Karen’s drawn face, but she wished the Greers had never come back to Jewell Cove. She knew it wasn’t Karen’s fault but just seeing her today brought back a rush of memories Jess would rather remain buried. When Abby reached the altar and took Tom’s hand, Jess turned back around. But not before she saw Rick’s concerned expression.

He’d been watching her. She wasn’t sure if she was flattered or unsettled by that knowledge.

She forced her face to relax and focused on the minister’s words and not on the Greers. She shouldn’t be surprised they were here; Tom’s mother, Barb, and Karen Greer were old friends.

Before long Abby gave Jess her bouquet and put both her hands in Tom’s to exchange vows. Their voices rang out clearly in the sanctuary and Jess watched as Rick reached into his pocket and withdrew the wedding ring, placing it on the minister’s bible. Jess slid Tom’s ring off her thumb and gave it to Abby to put in the crease of the pages, too, and then looked up at Rick.

And couldn’t look away.

She tried to remember the way he’d staggered out of Sarah’s party last summer. Reminded herself that he’d been cut off at The Rusty Fern more than once, that he was no good for her. Instead she could only think of glass paintings of hollyhocks and fence posts, the touch of his fingers on hers, the dark depths of his eyes. What had he been through? Just what had happened to him over there that he’d gone off the rails completely?

Her heart was beating so hard it felt like it was going to pound its way right through her ribs.

She snapped out of the moment when the music started and she realized it was time to sign the register. Jess sat next to Rick at the table to witness the documents. The photographer was there, forcing them to look up and smile, and then Jess took the pen and signed her name before handing it to Rick.

Before he took the pen from her fingers, he leaned in. “Are you okay, Jess?”

“I’m fine,” she whispered back.

“You looked like you saw a ghost there for a while. It’s a wedding. You’re supposed to smile.”

“I’ll try to do better.” She forced a smile and placed the pen in his hand. “Your turn to sign.”

He did, but as they got up, he moved behind her. “I didn’t mean you had to do better.” His rough whisper caressed the back of her neck. “I just wanted to make sure you were all right.”

A tingle went down her spine at his warm words. She would have answered, but the minister called out, introducing the bride and groom and they were off down the aisle again, into the sunny autumn afternoon.

The last thing she needed was Rick being observant. She was entirely too vulnerable right now. The best thing would be to keep her distance. And that was near to impossible tonight, seeing as they still had the reception to get through …

And wedding party pictures.

And a dance.

It was going to be a very long day.

C
HAPTER
8

When the receiving line finished, the small wedding party made the short drive in the Mustang to Memorial Square for pictures. Abby had hired local photographer Ryan Donovan to do the honors, and the first shots were taken in front of a blazing, red-hued maple tree and then at the small gazebo set in a corner, surrounded by a small garden. The flowering annuals were gone, but the steps of the gazebo held fall mums in a riot of warm colors: red, bronze, yellow, orange—the same colors as were in the bridal bouquets.

The four of them stood together on the narrow gazebo steps. Jess and Rick bookended the happy couple, and then it was time for Abby and Tom’s solo shots. “Jess, if you could just move forward out of the frame,” Ryan instructed. “Rick, you, too. Perfect!” The click of the camera continued for a few shots. “Now, we’re going to try something a little cuter. Rick and Jess, I want you two to stand just outside the image and extend your arms, each of you making half a heart with your hands. I’m going to frame the happy couple inside the heart.” Ryan demonstrated with his own hands.

Jess felt Rick’s body stiffen up behind her, and she realized that the pose would have him making the heart with his left hand—which meant it would be his prosthetic hand.

“What if we swapped sides?” she asked, raising her eyebrows innocently.

Ryan puckered his brows before shrugging in agreement. As Rick moved to the other side of the shot, his fingers slid over hers in thanks. Jess felt weird making a heart with Rick. For some reason the connection of their hands felt intimate. However, thankfully, a few minutes later it was over.

Ryan packed up his gear and said he’d meet them back at the house for the reception, and a blissfully happy Tom and Abby led the way back to the borrowed car. Jess picked her way across the grass, lifting her hem away from the ground just a little. Rick followed behind, the keys to the Mustang jingling in his hand.

“Hey, thanks for that.”

Jess just shrugged. “It’s no biggie,” she replied before sliding into the front seat of the convertible. She watched curiously as he drove, using his left hand to steer while his right shifted and then quickly joined his left on the wheel. The last few times they’d met she’d gotten a better look at his prosthetic. Science really had come a long way. The color of his prosthetic sleeve was slightly different from the skin on his right hand, but the detail was all there, right down to the fingernails.

“No trouble driving, then?” she asked quietly.

“Nope.”

“You’ve gotten pretty proficient.”

“Not always.”

Jess stole a look into the backseat. Abby and Tom were curled together, wrapped in their own little world. She turned back to the front and ruefully met Rick’s gaze.

“Fun being a third wheel, ain’t it?”

She couldn’t help but smile. “Maybe a bit awkward.”

“They’re happy. Hard to begrudge them that.”

“It doesn’t happen very often.”

“No, ma’am, it doesn’t.”

Did he realize that sometimes he still spoke like a soldier? She wondered if he missed that life. If he missed the camaraderie, the belonging … she knew that Josh did at times. It was one of the reasons why he’d hated practicing medicine in Hartford with Erin’s dad. He still carried himself like a soldier. Still kept his hair military short. He’d said that while he missed parts of Army life, at least he was back home in Jewell Cove, a place where he belonged. With family.

Only Rick had no family. No career. No wonder he’d lost his way.

“You’ve gone quiet, Saint Jess.”

The name should have made her angry or at least defensive. So why did it sound like an endearment the way Rick said it?

They turned up Blackberry Hill and then on to Foster Lane. Cars lined the long driveway and the side lawn, where Bryce had directed people to park. Music came from the backyard, audible once Rick cut the engine. The afternoon was waning but the October sun was unusually warm, so neither Jess nor Abby needed wraps just yet.

“Hang on a sec,” Rick commanded, getting out of the car. Jess waited while he got out and jogged around to her side, then opened her door for her. Her cheeks warmed as she got out and then waited as he opened the door and offered Abby his hand.

They walked to the back of the house, Abby and Tom in the lead. Just before they got to the garden path, he held out his arm. “Shall we?” he murmured.

She tucked her hand through his arm.

Cheers erupted as they entered the garden, which had been transformed into something worthy of a fairy tale. White tents were set up with white linen-covered tables and chairs beneath the canopies. Each tent housed a long row of tables, and chafing dishes with blue flames were precisely lined up, presided over by chefs in spotless white coats and hats. The garden, while devoid of its summer splendor, still held shrubs in various ranges of color, as well as late-blooming mums and asters. A handful of firebushes had turned, the blazing red leaves vibrant and stunning. The colors were repeated in centerpiece arrangements on each table.

“Wow,” Rick breathed beside her.

“Abby throws a classy affair,” Jess said quietly. “You have to kind of expect it, with the house and all.”

“It’s not exactly beer and pretzels at the Fern.”

“No, it’s not.”

He looked down at his tux. “I’m not really in my element. I feel like a damned monkey.”

She chuckled as they moved farther into the garden, and she slipped her hand off his arm. “You look fine. Very handsome.”

Before Rick could speak, Abby came over, a bright smile on her lips. “Hello, you two. Have I thanked you both for being so amazing today?”

Rick smiled and put a hand in his pants pocket. “No thanks necessary. Now, if you’ll excuse me, ladies, I see Josh looking glum in the corner.”

Jess watched Rick walk away feeling oddly disappointed to see him go. Today, they’d actually gotten along pretty well. Rick was not a bad guy. He had a lot of good qualities. And she couldn’t forget his paintings. It was one heck of a coping strategy. So why did he get under her skin so easily? And that look he’d given her in the church. Man, oh man.

“So, you and Rick…” Abby trailed off, wagging her eyebrows at her maid of honor. “He sure does clean up nice.”

“Hmm,” Jess replied, not wanting to say too much. All she needed was for Abby to go into matchmaking mode.

“Hmm? That’s it? Come on, Jess. Rick’s got that totally
hot and edgy
thing going on.”

He did indeed. And wasn’t that the problem?

“Hot, maybe,” she conceded, simply because it was stating the obvious. “But my taste doesn’t really run to the edgy types.”

“You could have fooled me, the way you were looking at each other today,” Abby teased.

Jess couldn’t help but smile at her friend, who meant well and wasn’t being the least bit shy about her intentions. “I get it, Abs. But your groom is looking a little neglected. Don’t worry about me. I’m going to get some punch and relax.”

“Good.” Before she left, Abby folded Jess in a hug. “You really have been the best friend a bride could ask for,” she whispered in Jess’s ear. “I just want you to be happy, too.”

“I am,” Jess assured her, giving her a squeeze before standing back. “Now go. Be bridal.”

Jess mingled for a while. It wasn’t difficult; the guest list was mostly people she’d known for years. Her punch was replenished twice and she caught up with Josh, who had miraculously managed to lose Summer Arnold in the crowd somewhere.

“Lose your date?” Jess teased. She knew Josh wasn’t interested in Summer, wasn’t interested in dating much at all.

“Hey, we sat together and that’s it. We’re both attending stag.”

“She didn’t look like she minded.”

He raised an eyebrow. “Don’t even.”

“Sarah and Mark made it.” Indeed, Sarah was looking lovely, if a bit thin, in a deep red dress, and Matt and Susan were in their Sunday best. “She looks better.”

“I hope so,” Josh said. “Physically she’s fine. The rest will come in time.”

“And how about you, Josh? How are you doing?”

“You know me,” he said easily. “Can’t keep me down for long.”

“Does it bother you that Tom’s so happy?” She’d often wondered if Josh envied Tom the ability to move on and find love.

“Naw. He suffered enough. I might have hated him but it wasn’t really anything he could control. He did his part and stayed away. He didn’t encourage Erin’s feelings. I know that.” He looked down at her, his eyes sad.

“Oh, Josh,” Jess said, putting a hand on his arm.

“Well, enough about that. This is a wedding. A time to celebrate, right? Besides, they’re calling everyone to dinner. We should find our seats.”

Josh was seated with his mom, Meggie, and Sarah’s family. Jess made her way to the head table, which was set for just the four of them. Candles had been added to the tables, thick white ones enclosed in glass globes, the flames flickering gently.

Bryce doubled as parking attendant and emcee, and once everyone was seated he went to the front where a microphone had been set up so all could hear, no matter which tent they were in. Waitstaff went around each table, filling goblets with wine or punch. Once each person had a full glass, Bryce stepped up to the mic. “Ladies and gentlemen, may I give you Mr. and Mrs. Tom Arseneault!”

He lifted his glass, and the guests did likewise as they toasted the bride and groom. Jess looked over. Rick was holding an empty glass. She wondered if that was the first glass he’d emptied tonight—or if there’d been more.

The sound of spoons erupting on glassware filled the tents and Jess grinned. Some traditions never changed. When the sound grew to a fever pitch, Abby and Tom stood and kissed, and the glass tinkling faded as everyone cheered and clapped.

The meal was served buffet style—a gorgeous seasonal feast of pork loin and applesauce, baked haddock and all the trimmings. The sun faded and white twinkle lights were turned on around the garden. Conversation was spared as everyone ate and then, as dessert was served, speeches were made.

Jess had just dipped into her apple crisp and ice cream when Bryce called Rick to the podium to give the toast to the bride.

Jess put down her spoon and watched as he reached into his pocket for an index card, put it on the podium in front of him, took a breath, looked up, and smiled.

She swallowed around a lump in her throat. When Rick smiled, it did something to her. Maybe because she knew he didn’t have a lot to smile about. Maybe because she knew he was trying. Maybe, most important of all, because she remembered that boyish smile. And she’d missed it.

“When Tom asked me to be his best man, there was no way I could say no,” Rick began, his crooked smile charming the socks off the gathered guests. “I’ve known Tom for as long as I can remember. We grew up together. Got into a fair bit of trouble together.” There were a few knowing chuckles in the crowd and he smiled again. “We went in different directions, but when I came back to Jewell Cove, Tom was the guy who really went the extra mile for me. So yeah. Best man—I got your back, buddy.”

Even though he didn’t know Abby that well, his next words about the couple were heartfelt and sweet, talking about how happy she’d made his friend—first by letting him get his hands on Foster House and then by giving him her heart. There were damp eyes and big smiles all around as he closed by saying, “Lift your glasses, everyone … To the Bride, Mrs. Abigail Arseneault.”