The Goodbye Bride (2 page)
© 2016 by Denise Hunter
All rights reserved. No portion of this book may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted in any form or by any meansâelectronic, mechanical, photocopy, recording, scanning, or otherâexcept for brief quotations in critical reviews or articles, without the prior written permission of the publisher.
Published in Nashville, Tennessee, by Thomas Nelson. Thomas Nelson is a registered trademark of HarperCollins Christian Publishing, Inc.
Scripture quotations are taken from the New King James Version
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Publisher's Note: This novel is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are either products of the author's imagination or used fictitiously. All characters are fictional, and any similarity to people living or dead is purely coincidental.
ISBN 978-0-7180-2374-4 (eBook)
Library of Congress Cataloging-in-Publication Data
Names: Hunter, Denise, 1968-
Title: The goodbye bride : a Summer Harbor novel / Denise Hunter.
Description: Nashville, Tennessee : Thomas Nelson, [2016] | Series: Summer Harbor ; 2
Identifiers: LCCN 2015035781 | ISBN 9780718023737 (softcover)
Subjects: LCSH: Amnesia--Fiction | Man-woman relationships--Fiction. | GSAFD: Love stories. | Christian fiction.
Classification: LCC PS3608.U5925 G66 2016 | DDC 813/.6--dc23 LC record available at http://lccn.loc.gov/2015035781
16 17 18 19 20 RRD 5 4 3 2 1
Contents
An Excerpt from Barefoot Summer
L
ucy Lovett had barely opened her eyes when she took notice of the pain hammering at the back of her head. She groaned, her fingers finding the tender spot, a lump that pushed up through her thick brown hair.
She closed her eyes again as other details registered. Her cheek, pressed to a cold, hard surface. A girdle-like squeeze in her middle. Pinched toes.
The squeak of shoes sounded somewhere in the distance, then a thud. Cool air whooshed over her.
Someone gasped. “Oh no! Miss? Miss, you okay? Oh mercy.”
Lucy opened her eyes, rolling over, the lump connecting with the hard surface. “Ow.”
Her gaze drifted over the water-stained ceiling tiles, then fell to the chubby cherub-like face of a middle-aged brunette.
“How many fingers?” the woman said.
Three thick fingers blocked Lucy's vision.
“Whatever happened?” she asked.
“Oh dear, you don't remember?”
Lucy's gaze bounced around the room. Gray stalls, a speckled
floor, two porcelain sinks, their rusty guts exposed from her vantage point. Her eyes lit on a yellow folded sign on the floor nearby.
Caution!Slippery When Wet
, it warned above a stick figure doing the slippety-do.
“I fell.”
Didn't she? She must've. Why else would she be lying prone on the floorâwet, she realized now, as the dampness registeredâwith a lump on her head? She winced as her hand found the bump again.
“Can you get up? Oh, have you hit your head? Maybe we should call 911.”
“No!” Just the thought of the hospital had her sitting up. “See, I'm just . . .” Her eyes dropped to her lap and took in the frothy white skirt. She followed the delicate beading up the bodice to her bare shoulders. Her thoughts raced, searching for answers, but all she found were scrambled puzzle pieces.
“Well, who are you here with? I'll let them know what happened.”
“IâI'm alone.” Wasn't she? Why couldn't she remember?
“Let's call somebody then. Your groom perhaps? I'll get some ice for that head, then we'll call. He must be worried silly.”
The woman bustled out the door while Lucy tried to assimilate the facts floating through her ringing head. It couldn't be her wedding day. That just made no sense whatsoever. It was over a month away. Maybe this was just her fitting. But why didn't she remember a single thing? Why didn't she remember getting into the gown or coming here or falling?
Think, Lucy. Think.
Her last memory was of cleaning up the restaurant with Zac the night before. He'd walked her to her apartment afterward, the cool fall wind ruffling his longish black hair. He'd slipped his
coat over her shoulders, and they'd talked all the way to her door. There, under a puddle of light, she'd looked up into his handsome face, into his stormy gray eyes, and felt a pinch of fear. That niggling worry that something would go horribly wrong and she'd lose the one person she needed more than air.
A shuffling of feet sounded outside the door, pulling her back to the present. She was fine. She just needed to get up and find Zac. He'd help her make sense of all this.
Lucy pulled her knees in and braced herself against the subway-tiled wall. As she got to her feet, her eyes fell on the white satin heels pinching her toes. Heels she'd admired a few weeks ago on Nordstrom.com. Kate Spade sling-back peep-toes with tiny demure bows. Shoes that were far out of her budget. She hadn't ordered them. She'd settled on a cute (if not darling) pair of pumps from a Summer Harbor boutique.
She looked down at the shoes. And yet, there they were.
The door burst open, and Cherub reappeared with a baggie of ice. She helped Lucy to her feet, and Lucy set the ice against the lump. A jackhammer was going in her head, and she blinked against the pain.
“Let's get you to a chair, honey. I think you should get an X-ray or something. You seem a little muddled.”
“I'm fine. But I need to call my fiancé.”
“Of course you do. My cell's about dead, but the manager will let you use her phone. I think she's worried about a lawsuit.”
The bathroom door opened to a bustling diner that looked straight out of the 1950s with red stools and a black-and-white tiled floor. Lucy didn't recognize the place. A savory smell hung in the air, making her stomach churn.
She looked out the big picture window. The sun sparkled off
the ocean in the distance, but the shops across the way were unfamiliar. Some corner of Summer Harbor she hadn't set eyes on? Though the little town only had so many corners, and she thought she'd seen them all.
Cherub retrieved a phone from the frowning lady behind the counter and handed it to her.
“You call that fiancé of yours. I'll be right back.” She disappeared into the ladies' room.
“There was a sign,” the woman said, glaring. “Soon as you walked in the door. You couldn't miss it.”
Lucy nodded, making her head pound harder. Her breaths were quick and shallow. She was sitting in a room full of people, but she couldn't remember ever feeling so alone. Well, except the one time. But that was so very long ago. Way before Zac.
He's only a phone call away.
Lucy punched his cell number into the handset, trying to ignore the frowning manager and the prying eyes. She supposed it wasn't every day a person saw a bride in a diner.
Zac must be fretting about her, she thought as the phone rang. She did hope he wasn't waiting at the chapel. She glanced at the clock on the diner wall. No, it was too early for that. The wedding didn't start until five thirty.
My wedding day. What happened to the past month?
She pushed the questions away. Needing Zac more than ever, she dialed the Roadhouse.
Zac Callahan lined up the shot, drew back the stick, and struck the cue ball. It rolled forward, spinning across the green felt, and
kissed the solid blue ball, which shot off at an angle and sank into the corner pocket.
The bystanders erupted in cheers. Wagers always had a way of upping involvement.
“Of all the luck,” Beau said.
Zac straightened to his full six-four height. “Luck's got nothing to do with it, big brother.”
“Yeah, whatever.” Beau surveyed the table, his near-black eyes narrowing in a frown.
Zac had left him nothing. With the rest of his evening on the line, he wasn't leaving it up to chance. Marci, one of his servers, had called in sick, and the crowd was picking up. He was going to need the extra hands.
“I can't wait to see you in that apron,” Zac said.
“Not happening.” Beau's dark hair hung forward as he took a shot and missed.
His new fiancée, Eden, consoled him with a pat on the arm and mouthed to Zac,
I'm so there.
“Zac, you're wanted on the phone!” his hostess called on her way past the poolroom.
He set down the cue stick and pointed at Beau. “No cheating.”
Beau gave a
Who, me?
face as Zac headed toward the counter. The restaurant was already half full because of the Red Sox game on TV. The crowd gave a hearty shout as the tying run crossed home plate.
Zac paused a moment to watch, then continued on his way. He patted Sheriff Colton's shoulder as he passed and avoided the booth where Morgan LeBlanc sat with a friend. He'd had a couple dates with Morgan, and they were going out again soon. He tried to work up some excitement about that and failed.
He slipped behind the counter and snapped up the handset. “Zac speaking.”
“Zac! Oh, thank heavens.”
Adrenaline flushed through his body, tingles zinging across his skin. His shoulders went rigid. He hadn't heard her voice in seven months. That sweet Southern drawl that used to give him palpitations. Now it made his heart stop in its tracks.
“Something awful's just happened. IâI fell, and I don't rightly know where I am. Can you come for me?”
He rubbed his forehead, his thoughts spinning. “
What?
”
“I don't want to be late, and I'm already just sopping wet, and my hairâ”
“Late for what?”
“That is not funny, Zac Callahan.” She sounded near tears. “My head's cranking, and IâI need you to come fetch me.”
“Lucy, you're not making any sense. Why are you even calling me?”
There was a long pause. “Are you kidding me?”
He remembered that day seven months ago, returning from his weekend trip. The unanswered calls, the unanswered knock at her door. Being worried, calling her landlord only to find her apartment empty and Lucy gone.
His fingers tightened on the handset. “Call somebody else. You're not my problem anymore.”
She gave a little gasp. “Why are you being so hateful?” The last words wobbled.
Why was heâ? He pulled the phone from his ear, scowled at it, and put it back in place. “You're the one who left, Lucy. If you need a ride, call a cab.” He started to hang up.
“Wait, Zac! Please. Oh my gosh, you can't do this to me. I hit
my head and there's a great big lump and my head is pounding and I need help. I need
you
.”
His gut clenched hard. How many times in the recent months had he longed to hear those words from her lips? She sounded so . . . confused. So lost. And it wasn't like she had any family left.
And you're a great big sucker, Callahan.
“Please. I don't know where I am or what's going on. You have to help me.”
He leaned back against the bar. “Lucy. You need to go to the hospital. You must have a conâ”
“I can't go to the hospital!”
Zac dragged his palm over his scruffy jaw, remembering Lucy's phobia. He'd never be able to talk her into an ER visit over the phone. Even when she'd torn a tendon in her ankle, she'd refused to go. An EMT friend of his had treated her in his apartment upstairs.
