Mary Had a Little Problem (9 page)

For whatever reason, Brock was interested in her. He knew how she felt about the husband she lost. He apparently understood she wasn’t interested in seeing anyone replace him. Still, he remained steadfast in his quest. Perhaps he would only be here today. Maybe he’d stay for a week or two, but regardless of what his intentions were, Mary was certain of one thing. She and Brock had a sizzling connection. They enjoyed real chemistry. She’d felt comfortable with him from the beginning. What they shared was rare. She understood that better than anyone.

Mary knew from her own previous experience. She and Brock were living in the early days of a relationship bound to lead them somewhere together.

Chapter Nine

Six Months Later
Gatlinburg, Tennessee

Mary was on pins and needles. She hadn’t seen Brock in three months, but even though his mission was classified, he’d been able to call her several times a week. They’d spoken often, and when he proposed, she was elated. The proposal came as a complete surprise, and while his confession of endearing love wasn’t necessarily presented in the traditional manner—on bended knee with ring in hand—it was by far one of the most romantic moments of her life.

He’d placed a collect call, and the operator had asked if Mary Worthington would accept a call from her fiancé, Brock Taylor. When she’d said yes, they’d shared a few laughs then he’d said, “The operator didn’t make a mistake. I want to marry you if you’ll have me.”

Of course, she’d said yes. And like most brides-to-be, she’d cried. Later, she’d spent hours on the phone with her sister. She and Anna had a lot to do in a short period of time, and now, here they were.

The big day had finally arrived.

“Do you think he’ll be here?” Mary asked, trying to ignore the butterflies in her stomach.

“Honey,” Anna said, touching her cheek, “he’ll be here.”

Anna studied her reflection in the mirror again. She wore a sleek chiffon wedding gown with wide straps over her shoulders completely adorned by sequins that led to a full back of cascading ruffles dropping from the waist down. The fitted bodice was flattering, and the ivory color was appropriate for a second marriage. She wore flashy diamond teardrop earrings Anna loaned her, and the garter she’d worn from her first marriage, something she, Anna, and Brock had discussed.

Sliding her foot through the garter, she said, “Brock has been so understanding.”

“About?” Anna asked, arching a brow.

“Never mind,” she whispered. In recent months, Mary had trouble saying Luke’s name aloud. Things had progressed rapidly between her and Brock, and she loved him. She loved him with all her heart, and while she carried Luke with her, and felt she always would, Brock was her future. She didn’t want to take away from the love the two of them shared.

“Honey, are you okay?”

“Why wouldn’t I be?” Mary asked, picking up a handheld mirror and checking out her up-do. Anna was brilliant with hair and make-up, and she’d painstakingly held her breath as she worked like a professional stylist until she achieved the perfect ballerina twist.

Anna placed her hands on Mary’s shoulders and gave her a tight squeeze. “Luke is here with you. I know he is.”

Mary gasped, dabbing the corners of her eyes. “You’re right. He is.” She wheeled around to face Anna. “Now, let’s talk about you. Want me to try to copy this hairstyle for you?”

Anna twirled a lock of hair around her forefinger. “Honey, I’m content to wear my hair down. This is your day. I’m not worried about this mess.”

Studying her hair again, Mary admired her sister’s handiwork. Secured by rhinestones and pearl hairpins, her hair was swept completely away from her face. She closed her eyes and thought of Brock’s hands at her cheeks. She could almost see his bright blue eyes lighting up, as they often did, when he saw her.

“He loves me, right?” she asked, turning to her sister.

“You’re his heart, Mary.”

“He’s mine,” she assured her, picking up the hairbrush. “Now, sit down. I want to attempt to give you an up-do, too.”

“So now I’m supposed to oblige the bride?”

“Yes, ma’am,” she said, giving her a gentle hug. “We still have some time before Brock arrives. Let me make you beautiful.” A beat later she added, “Not that you need help. You’re still the loveliest lady in the land.”

“Says you,” Anna said. “But look at you standing there in a wedding dress again. You’ve been down the aisle twice, and I’ve yet to make it the first time.”

A soft sensation lapped at Mary’s ear, like a ghost whispering a reminder of lost time, taking her breath away. She swallowed hard, forced a smile, and looked in the mirror, staring into her sister’s eyes.

“Mary, it’s okay to cry,” Anna told her. “You must have mixed emotions.”

“I’ll go to my grave loving two men. I’ll never forget Luke or the love we shared, but I’ll always love Brock. Oddly enough, I believe Brock is my soul mate. Luke was the love of my life.”

“Is there a difference?” Anna asked.

“For me, yes,” she said, running the brush through Anna’s long hair.

“Wanna talk about it?”

Mary paused, and then tapping the brush against her open palm, attempted to explain. “Brock finishes my sentences, knows what I’m thinking before I say it, and is my true other half. Luke was my first love, and we had a whirlwind romance, the kind of love that was unshakeable, strong enough to move mountains.”

“You don’t think you have that with Brock?”

“Yes,” she replied. “Our love is different. That’s all. One isn’t, or wasn’t, better than the other.”

When tears formed in her eyes, she quickly set to task working on styling her maid of honor’s hair. Glancing at the clock, she said, “He’ll be here, right?”

“He’ll move the mountains out of his way to get to this wedding chapel, sweetie.”

“You’re right,” she said, still curious as to why Brock chose a wedding chapel in the mountains for exchanging their vows. “Do you think he’s been working stateside or overseas?”

“How would I know?” Anna asked. “I don’t know anything about the military or the tasks the men in uniform perform.”

“You just like the men that wear those dress whites and tight pants, right?”

“You got it,” Anna told her, grinning. “Now, hurry up and fix my hair. Otherwise, you’ll be late to your own wedding.”

* * * *

Brock wore his blue evening dress uniform at Mary’s request. Since she chose an ivory dress, she didn’t want him to wear the more appropriate summer whites. Then again, what he wore probably didn’t matter. If she’d missed him as he’d longed for her, after the ceremony and reception, clothing wouldn’t be required.

After he arrived at the chapel, he was escorted to the groom’s dressing quarters. It had taken everything in him not to rush down the hall screaming Mary’s name. They’d been apart three months, and every agonizing hour they weren’t together was like a shot through his heart.

“Knock, knock,” Anna said, entering without awaiting his permission. “Hey, look at you! I never knew you cleaned up so well.”

“I do amazing things for that wife of mine,” Brock said, giving her a hug. “It’s good to see you, sister-in-law.”

Anna pulled away and shook her head. “Boy, you have it bad for my little sister, don’t you? You’re already referring to me as an in-law and talking sweet about your wife.”

He took a deep breath and shrugged. “In some ways, I believe Mary belonged to me from the time Luke told me about her. It was certainly a fated love. If you only knew how slim the likelihood was for Luke and me to work together, or for me to stop and help a damsel in distress on the side of the road without taking her home and banging her, then you’d understand.”

“We’ve been over this,” Anna said. “We would’ve killed one another.”

Brock winked. “I still like to tease you. Thank God, we hit it off as friends from the start. I would’ve hated to find out later that you were the sister of the gal I planned to marry.”

“By the time you met me, you were already smitten, anyway.”

“You’re right,” he agreed. “I’d listened to hours of Mary-stories. Luke believed she was the only topic worth discussing when we stood watch late at night.”

“And you had better women to talk about?” Anna asked, a smile tilting her lips.

“I’m standing here today. What do you think?”

“My sister missed you,” Anna said, changing the subject abruptly.

“I hope so,” he said, digging in his pocket. Opening a ring box, he quickly added, “What do you think?”

“Wow!” Anna said, leaning back as if the gleam from the ring would blind her. “That cost you a fortune.”

He shrugged. “She’s worth all three carats.”

Anna shook her head. “What the hell did you do? Rob a jewelry store?”

“I’ve saved a lot of money. That’s the great thing about being a soldier—if you don’t want to spend a dime, you don’t have to. I waited a long time for the right lady to win my heart.”

“She has that, too. Doesn’t she, Brock?” Anna asked, raising suspicion.

“You have to ask?” A beat later, he felt the frown turning his smile upside down. “She’s having doubts, isn’t she?”

“No. Are you kidding me? I don’t think she’s ever been more certain of anything in her life.”

“I hope that’s right,” Brock said, working the kinks out of his neck. “There for a minute, you worried me.”

“I just want you to tell me you love my sister.”

Brock took hold of her wrists and said, “Mary is the only woman for me, Anna. If she walked out of this chapel today and decided she didn’t want to marry me, I would never propose to another woman. She’s the beat in my chest, the twinkle in my eye, the smile on my face. I will love her without reservations, without conditions, until the day I die.”

Anna patted his cheek and backed away. “Thank you, Brock.”

“You don’t have to thank me.”

“Yes, I do. Thank you for assuring me of the love I’m certain Mary must feel from you.”

She slipped out the same door she came in, and Brock stood at the window watching the sun as it started its descent behind the magnificent Smoky Mountains. He thought of the Afghanistan sunset he’d seen near the Pakistan border just the week before. In a country so filled with terrorist activity, Afghanistan still sported picturesque character, true natural beauty.

Brock rubbed the side of his face as he thought of the reasons he’d been asked to return to Kabul. He considered his own decision for leaving on the special assignment. They were supposed to bring home several soldiers, men Brock knew well. He’d returned to Afghanistan against his better judgment and uncertain of what he might discover.

Another Marine, a friend who’d fought with him when he and Luke were overseas together, turned up alive, swearing several men the government declared dead were in fact still breathing. Brock hadn’t mentioned anything to Mary, and now he questioned that decision and wondered what it was he’d been trying to hide.

Had he kept the secret to stay true to his job, or to protect himself? Was he afraid Luke was alive or anxious to see an old friend? Was he secure in his love for Mary, and her love for him, that he never doubted for a minute whether or not she’d marry him, if in fact Luke returned, or was he afraid of a rejection if she discovered the main purpose for his return to Afghanistan?

Pacing the room, he glanced out the window. A soldier in dress whites left the building with his head down, walking up a cobblestone pathway. Brock inched closer to the glass, studying the man as he walked away from the chapel. A knock fell against the door, and he turned away from the glass for a second. When he returned to the task of eyeing the man who looked somewhat familiar, the man in uniform was gone.

Brock greeted his guest and accepted a letter from a courier. He shut the door and took a seat on a nearby chair, fully expecting a letter from Mary. Instead, behind the flap, Brock discovered a note written in handwriting he recognized:

Old Friend,

I’ll be damned if you didn’t win again. Seems I’m always at the wrong place at the wrong time, and you’re always at the right place at the best time.

I can’t ask you to stop a wedding you’ve obviously rushed, nor would I. As you’ve probably heard from the military intelligence briefings, there are several of us dead men walking, soldiers without a place, men without a home. And I don’t expect to come back into Mary’s life and take my place as her husband after she’s grieved me. I know of the heartache I caused her, and she’s better off without me, so long as she has you.

The guys and me…we can’t return home. Most of us have nothing waiting for us now. I’m sure that’s why you came to Afghanistan asking your questions, digging for information. You probably suspected I was still alive when no one else believed it was possible. I want to thank you for that. I know in my heart, at some point you were my friend, and even though you now lay down next to my wife, I know too that you wouldn’t have been a soldier to leave a good man behind, a man you considered a fellow friend, like a brother.