Sandra Steffen – A Bride Until Midnight / Something Unexpected: A Bride Until Midnight (страница 6)

He couldn’t have recognized her.

It was possible he’d seen her photograph in the newspapers six years ago. But she’d been younger then, and blond, and had been wearing a frothy veil and a wedding gown made of acres of silk.

He hadn’t recognized her.

How could he? She barely recognized the girl she’d been then.

More than likely, what she’d thought was a fleeting recognition in Kyle’s green eyes had simply been a conscious effort to coax the blood back into his brain after that kiss. She pried the fingers of her right hand from the steering wheel and gently touched her lips. He wasn’t the only one still recovering.

Enough. They’d enjoyed a brief flirtation. Not mild, mind you, but brief. That was all it was. She had nothing to worry about. He was most likely on his way to the airport this very minute to pursue more pressing stories than a rehash of old news, even if that old news was Baltimore’s most notorious runaway bride.

She and Kyle had said their good-byes. Or at least she had. She tried to remember how he’d replied.

“Good luck,” he’d said as they’d parted ways. And everybody knew good luck was as good as goodbye.

She jumped when a horn blasted. People in Orchard Hill didn’t generally honk their horn, which meant she’d probably been sitting at the green light longer than she should. Smiling apologetically in her rearview mirror at the poor driver behind her, she quickly took her foot off the brake and continued on toward the hospital across town.

Roughly seven square miles, Orchard Hill was a city of nearly twenty-five thousand residents. The streets curved and intersected in undulating juxtaposition to the bends in the river. A state highway bisected the city from east to west, but even that was riddled with stoplights. She’d learned to drive in congested city traffic. She’d learned patience here.

She had to wait a few minutes while a crew wearing hard hats moved a newly fallen tree limb out of the intersection. A few blocks farther down the street a delivery man threw his flashing lights on and left his truck idling in the middle of Division Street. Hosanna chimed from the bell tower as it did every day at half past eleven.

It really was just an ordinary May morning in Orchard Hill. The normalcy of it was like a cool drink of lemonade, refreshing and calming at the same time.

While she waited at another red light she found herself staring at the ten foot tall statue on her left. Nobody could agree where the bronzed figure came from, or how long it had stood on the courthouse lawn.

Summer remembered vividly the first time she’d seen it more than six years ago. She’d been lost and nearly out of gas that day when she’d coasted to a stop at the curb. So exhausted that the lines and words on the road map in her hand swam before her eyes, she’d found herself gazing out the window at a whimsical figure at the head of a town square.

Most cities reserved a place of such importance for cannons and monuments and statues of decorated war heroes on mighty steeds, but that day she was drawn from her car by a larger-than-life replica of a fellow with holes in his shoes, bowed legs, patched trousers, and a dented kettle on his head. Johnny Appleseed was her first acquaintance in Orchard Hill.

She’d stood beside the statue and taken a deep breath of air scented with ripe apples and autumn leaves. Above the golden treetops in the distance she saw a smoke stack from a small factory, a water tower and several church spires. Somewhere, a marching band was practicing, and there were dog walkers on the sidewalks of what appeared to be a busy downtown.

It had been too early for streetlights, but lamps had glowed in the windows of some of the shops lining the street. Fixing her gaze straight ahead, she’d walked away from her unlocked car, leaving her ATM and credit cards in plain view on the seat inside. A thief wouldn’t get far with any of them, for all her cards had been cancelled.

Nobody duped Winston Emerson Matthews the Third without consequences, not even his daughter. Especially not his daughter.

She’d entered the first restaurant she came to and sat at a small table. A blond waitress a few years younger than Summer had appeared with a menu and a smile. Nearly overtaken with the enormity and finality of her recent actions, Summer stared into the girl’s friendly blue eyes and blurted, “Ten days ago I left a rich and powerful man at the altar. My father has disinherited me and all I have left in my purse is ten dollars and some change.”

After a moment of quiet deliberation, the waitress had replied, “I’d recommend Roxy’s Superman Special.” In a whisper, she added, “It’s a savory chicken potpie. Roxy makes it from scratch. Her crusts alone could win awards.”

Something had passed between their gazes. Summer’s eyes filled up, and all she could do was nod.

“I’ll be right back.” The angelic waitress had soon returned, a plate in each hand. She sat down across from Summer and shook out her napkin. “I’m Madeline Sullivan,” she said, handing Summer a fork and napkin and picking up another set for herself. “Welcome to Orchard Hill.”

Before the meal was finished, Summer’s second acquaintance in Orchard Hill had become the best friend she’d ever known. Madeline had taken Summer home with her, as if normal people took in disinherited young women with secret pasts every day.

She was the only person in Orchard Hill Summer had confided in, the only person who knew her given name.

Madeline had been working her way through college then. Today she was a nurse, and right now she lay in a hospital, possibly losing a baby she desperately wanted.

“I’m coming, Madeline,” Summer whispered into the celestial sovereignty reserved for promises and prayers.

Buchanan Street curved one last time before the three-story brick hospital came into view. She followed the arrows and parked near the lighted E.R. sign around back. Grabbing her shoulder bag, she locked her car then ran through the automatic doors and down a short corridor. She rounded a corner.

And came face-to-face with two Merrick brothers, not one.

Years of practice with schooling her features very nearly deserted her as she looked from Riley to Kyle. She wanted to ask Kyle what he was doing here. Why wasn’t he checking his bag at the airport?

And how had he beaten her here?

Instead she focused on a pair of brown eyes, not green, and said, “Riley, how is she?”

Riley Merrick was as tall as his brother and had a similar build. There was a depth in his eyes that put Summer at ease every time she saw him.

“You know Madeline,” he said, his voice a deep baritone. “She keeps telling me not to worry about her, that everything’s going to be okay.”

That sounded like Madeline.

“What happened?” Summer asked.

“She passed out at work. Hit her head when she fell. The bleeding seems to have stopped.”

“She was bleeding?” Summer asked.

“Too heavy to be considered spotting.”

Oh. That kind of bleeding. “And the pregnancy?” Summer whispered.

“We’re waiting for the results of blood work. A few minutes ago Madeline told me she doesn’t feel she’s lost the baby.”

That sounded like Madeline, too.

Apparently Riley realized that Kyle was still standing beside him. He glanced at him, and said, “Summer, this is my brother Kyle.”

“Hello, Kyle,” she said.

“We meet again,” he said at the same time, only slightly louder.

“You two know each other?” Riley asked, looking sideways at his brother.

“Remember when I told you I slept like a baby last night? It was at her place.”

“At my inn. In Room Seven. Alone. At least I assume he was alone.” Summer shot Kyle a stern look before turning back to Riley. “Where is Madeline now?”

Double doors clanked open and a man wearing scrubs pushed a gurney through the doorway. A television droned on the far wall in the waiting area. A little girl was crying, and a teenaged boy was holding his wrist. Other bored-looking people dozed or fidgeted, waiting for their turn to see a doctor.

“She’s in Room Four,” Riley answered quietly. “Talya’s performing an examination.”

Talya Ireland, pronounced like Tanya, only with an l, was a midwife and Madeline’s new employer. She’d stayed at the inn when she first came to town several months ago. If Madeline was with her, she was in good hands.

Summer lowered herself into a nearby vinyl chair. Before she’d even finished smoothing her skirt, Riley said, “Madeline asked me to send you in the minute you arrived.”

She was on her feet again and halfway to the door when she thought of something. “Riley?” she said.

Both Merrick brothers were watching her.

“If Madeline feels she’s going to be okay,” Summer said, “I believe her.”

Relief eased the strain on Riley’s face. Kyle’s expression was more difficult to decipher. He stood looking at her, his shoulders straight, the collar of his shirt open, cuffs rolled to his forearms. He was one of those men who played hard and cleaned up well, and he sent her stomach into a wild swirl. He was ruggedly attractive from the waves in his coffee-colored hair to the toes of his Italian-made shoes.

She forced her eyes away but felt his gaze until she disappeared on the other side of the heavy metal doors. The vinyl flooring beneath her feet muffled the sound of her footsteps. From behind curtain one came the mechanical blip of a heart monitor. Behind curtain two, a child cried forlornly. Hushed voices and a few groans that didn’t sound like pain were coming from behind curtain three.