Late for the Wedding Read online

  Table of Contents

  Title Page

  Praise for Barbara Edwards’

  Late for the Wedding

  Copyright

  Dedication

  Chapter One

  Chapter Two

  Chapter Three

  Chapter Four

  Thank you for purchasing this publication of The Wild Rose Press, Inc.

  She finally got the seatbelt lock to release,

  forced her door open, and stood. Her knees shook, and she had to hang onto the sagging door for support. She stared around. Headlights glittered like monster eyes. Her vehicle was at the edge of a horrendous multi-car pile-up.

  Sirens wailed like lost children. Blinding red and blue lights flashed everywhere as emergency personnel rushed by. Her hands shook as she dragged on her cashmere coat. Time squeezed and expanded like an accordion being played. A fireman asked if she was okay and ran on at her nod.

  She brushed moisture from her face and realized she was crying. She pillowed her head on her arm, the roof supporting her as she wept.

  “Hey, lady, you okay?” A gentle hand gripped her shoulder.

  This time the questioner stopped to listen.

  She looked up into scorching blue eyes so bright they could have been a propane flame. Her skin warmed, and her pulse leaped as if it recognized the message in them. They promised heat and comfort and strength like the hand on her shoulder. He’d pulled his knit hat down over his forehead, and his lower face was covered with dark stubble that matched his thick black eyelashes. His hands were splotched with grease, and he smelled like oil and fuel fumes. His quilted jacket was stained and patched, his boots wet and cracked, but he exuded strength and caring.

  She swallowed. Her mouth was suddenly dry. Another fixer-upper, like her ex, she briefly thought, although with those gorgeous eyes he might be worth the trouble.

  Praise for Barbara Edwards’

  JOURNEY OF THE MAGI

  “With a deft touch of her brush, word artist Barbara Edwards paints an endearing story that showcases the true meanings of Christmas—love, sacrifice and the wide-eyed hopes of children.” Five stars

  ~Vonnie Davis, author

  ~*~

  “Barbara Edwards has crafted a wonderfully touching holiday short story that is sweetly uplifting and sure to melt the hearts of readers looking for a needed respite from the demands of the season.” Five stars

  ~Angie Just Read, TheRomanceReviews

  Late

  for the

  Wedding

  by

  Barbara Edwards

  Twelve Brides of Christmas Series

  This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are either the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to actual persons living or dead, business establishments, events, or locales, is entirely coincidental.

  Late for the Wedding

  COPYRIGHT © 2014 by Barbara Edwards

  All rights reserved. No part of this book may be used or reproduced in any manner whatsoever without written permission of the author or The Wild Rose Press, Inc. except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical articles or reviews.

  Contact Information: [email protected]

  Cover Art by Diana Carlile

  The Wild Rose Press, Inc.

  PO Box 708

  Adams Basin, NY 14410-0708

  Visit us at www.thewildrosepress.com

  Publishing History

  First Sweetheart Rose Edition, 2014

  Digital ISBN 978-1-62830-614-9

  Twelve Brides of Christmas Series

  Published in the United States of America

  Dedication

  For Tori, Nicole, Gillian and Brianna

  Chapter One

  Heather Green twirled slowly on the low pedestal. The wedding gown’s full lace overskirt swished over the satin petticoat with a happy sound. Soft violin music played, and the air smelled of roses. She smiled as the seamstress removed the last pin from the hem. The ivory dress was ready in time for the Christmas Eve wedding. She adjusted the pearl-studded, fitted bodice over her breasts. It did look stunning. Too bad it wasn’t hers.

  “Take a picture.” She held out her cell phone. “My twin sister is on pins and needles and driving me crazy. It will be a relief to tell her it’s ready.”

  “Tell her I do apologize for the misunderstanding,” the seamstress burbled. “And I’m so happy she’ll be having that Christmas Eve wedding after all. I really expected her to cancel when her Marine unit was deployed.”

  “Me, too. But she’s like a force of nature. She has a way of getting what she wants.” Heather posed for two more photos, and then sent them to her sister’s phone.

  The text reply was a line of gibberish, perfectly expressing Rosemary’s excitement.

  Heather laughed and tucked the phone in her purse before holding still to be unzipped.

  “It will take me a few minutes to wrap the dress. We don’t want it to get soiled at the last minute,” the seamstress said.

  “Not if we want to survive the wedding,” Heather muttered under her breath.

  She could allow herself to sweat now. After she loaded the bride’s gown and her maid of honor dress into her car, she’d be ready to leave.

  The wedding cake layers were packed for travel, favor bags of homemade cookies filled an emerald-green ribbon-decorated basket, and the tiny marzipan cake topper of two turtledoves sat in its tissue wrapper. She’d spent the last five days, between tapings of her fledgling cooking show, preparing this surprise.

  She hugged herself. It was nice to be the one to spring a surprise on the family. Rosemary was the risk-taker and Heather the reliable stay-at-home. Rosemary’s biggest surprise was being the first to marry while Heather pursued a career. Everyone avoided talking about her broken engagement. That mistake had firmed her resolve to avoid men who needed fixing.

  The snow was blinding when she left the shop. Thank goodness their parents were meeting Rosemary’s plane at Boston’s Logan Airport. She had enough to remember. She mentally checked her list and blew out a relieved breath. Everything was ready. Tomorrow night the altar would be decorated with white roses and emerald ribbons to match their eyes and her bridesmaid gown. Her mother was in charge of the small reception at the hotel where she had room reservations. It wouldn’t take her more than three hours to drive there.

  She turned the key in the ignition. Maybe the other pair of shoes would look better. It would only take a minute to get them from her place.

  Tomorrow her twin sister would be home for good.

  ****

  Nicholas Burnes checked the thick chains one more time before clambering into the warm cab of the tow truck. He fumbled open the zipper of his old work coat and pushed up the worn and patched sleeves. Rubbing a hand over his unshaven face, he knew he looked like a slob, but tonight he just didn’t care. He felt freed by leaving his Armani suit hanging in the closet.

  Shrugging to relax his shoulders, he checked the dashboard. Tonight was not the night to have problems on the road. He had always hated working the icy roads during the winter, but there was no one else to cover for his brother tonight.

  He’d cancelled a hot date with his most recent cuddle to help. He shrugged impatiently. He didn’t want to settle down like his brother, with a wife and potential babies coming at awkward times. He liked his freedom—another reason why he flitted from girl to girl like an insatiable hummingbird.

  He flipped open his phone and hit speed dial.

  “Hey, Jake. How’s it going?”

  When he clicked the garage door opener, the overhead double doors to the parking area rumbled up. Three other tow truck
s awaited their regular drivers’ return after the holiday weekend. Everything was covered in white. There was no doubt the outside vehicle storage area would need plowing if this snow continued.

  “Carol’s nervous as a cat in a room full of rockers. She keeps pacing instead of relaxing and...” The words became muffled when his brother turned from the mouthpiece. The couple’s first baby had decided to arrive during this pre-Christmas storm instead of after New Year’s Day. “We weren’t ready for him. I still need to paint the nursery.”

  “Jake! Jake, I’m heading out. Let me know when the baby arrives,” Nick injected loudly to get Jake’s attention.

  “Yeah, will do. She wants me to rub her back.” His brother’s frustration came through loud and clear, and Nick worked to keep from smiling. He bit the inside of his cheek. Jake would know if he smiled.

  He cranked over the heavy engine and flipped on the CB radio.

  “Breaker. Breaker. Time check,” he spoke into the shortwave microphone to check his reception.

  “Four o’clock, straight up, good buddy,” came through loud and clear from a passing trucker.

  The dispatcher would let him know when anyone needed him. Snow spattered the windshield as he left the garage and headed toward Interstate 90. The Massachusetts Turnpike cut from east to west across the state into Boston. He swore under his breath when he passed several heavy state plows loaded with sand. Lousy weather might be good for Jake’s towing business, but it meant a long, hard night for all the emergency workers.

  Impatient with the constant repetition of holiday music his brother favored, he turned the FM station to country. The thick flakes built quickly across the cold pavement while he drove west. He squinted at the lowering gray clouds. Light flurries were predicted, but it looked like New England was yanking another storm out of its pocket.

  He pictured his cancelled date cuddled with him in front of his fireplace, looking over his penthouse view of the Charles River. The feeling of disappointment didn’t come. She’d been another flower in a disposable bouquet.

  He slowed and circled up an exit, then turned onto the entrance ramp in the other direction. He grinned. She’d been royally peeved, swearing never to waste another minute with a man who couldn’t keep a date. He didn’t explain that his brother’s company contract stated they be available for towing. She wasn’t that important, and here he was.

  Although it had been a decade since he last drove a tow truck, the heavy wheel felt familiar under his hands. He inhaled the heavy scent of diesel and coffee filling the cab. The powerful engine kept the truck tires moving through the deep snow when other vehicles lost traction. Nodding in time to the music, he sipped coffee from the thermal cup he’d brought. Later he’d stop at one of the diners for a meal. It didn’t matter which one as long as the food was hot and filling. He wondered if any of the waitresses he’d flirted with while working his way through college would be there or remember him.

  Lucky for Jake he’d kept his special license current. He sang along with a familiar tune as he watched the commuters swarming like bees over the road. The dashboard clock showed four-thirty PM, but darkness gathered quickly while the snow thickened. Idiots passed him, ignoring the slippery surface.

  Dispatch burbled out directions to a fender-bender needing a tow. He noted the time in his log and turned. The traffic had thickened like cold molasses. Everyone wanted to get home to a hot meal and warm house, but no one wanted to give an inch. He honked at a driver blocking the emergency lane and ignored his unhappy and rude gesture. The guy was lucky a state trooper hadn’t given him a ticket.

  The relatively minor accident had traffic blocked for a mile by the time he reached the crashed vehicles. Another truck was loading one, and he followed the police signals to load the second.

  Dressed in an overcoat with a briefcase tucked under his arm, the driver huffed and puffed as he climbed into the cab.

  “Take me home,” he directed. “It’s my wife’s car. No one’s going to be willing to repair the damage until after Christmas anyway. I don’t live far.”

  “You got it,” Nick agreed. This was the regular routine he remembered.

  By the time he’d unloaded the car and done the paperwork, the snow was six inches deep and the temperature dropping. Thankfully most of the commuter traffic had slugged their way home, leaving the highway surface rutted and slippery.

  He dialed his brother.

  “Already stacking up,” he said to Jake. “People want to get out of this storm.”

  “Wasn’t predicted. In fact they were moaning about not having a white Christmas this year when we left for the hospital,” he replied.

  “Don’t look now, but they were wrong.”

  “Jeez, Nick. I’m sorry. I expected it to be a slow night.”

  He didn’t need an apology to know Jake cared about his safety. “Hey, it’s good for business. You take care of my favorite sister-in-law.” He disconnected.

  Nick waded through the next few hours like a linebacker through the defensive line. The coming holiday had people driving to finish last minute chores when they should stay home. He hauled in a half dozen cars. His eyes burned from engine fumes, and his hands grew stiff in the bitter cold. Oil and grease blackened his fingers. Every time he stopped, the tow links quickly acquired an icy coating he repeatedly had to knock off.

  When he had a chance for a break, he took it. The nearest diner felt overheated and smelled of old sweat and burned coffee. He sighed as he settled into a booth. The waitress poured him coffee before he could ask, and he warmed his hands on the mug. A driver in the next seat recognized Nick’s jacket logo.

  “Nasty night,” he commented with a wise nod. “Goin’ ta get worse.”

  Nick shared a grim smile. “If we could only keep those four-wheelers at home it’d be a lot easier. Those car drivers are asking for trouble driving in this mess.”

  “Well, good luck.” The driver shook his hand and left.

  Nick finished his coffee, paid for a take-out cup, and headed back to the tow truck. In the short break, the snow had piled up two more inches and slid over the tops of his work boots.

  He blew out a frustrated breath and checked his watch. Time to check in again. He speed-dialed his brother.

  “Not now, Nick,” Jake snapped. “The doctor is talking about sending her home since she’s stopped having contractions.”

  “Oh? Is that good or bad?”

  “Darn it, I don’t know.” Jake huffed with frustration.

  Nick could picture his brother dragging his fingers through thick hair the same color as his. The frustration came in a heavy wave. He could read his twin’s emotions like his own.

  “Ask the doctor what your options are. Calm down. Everything will be fine. Babies are born every day,” he soothed, although this baby was making a memorable entrance.

  “But not mine,” Jake growled, then cleared his throat. “You’re right. I’m going to hold her hand and be strong. It’s what she needs.”

  “Give her a hug for me, bro.” Nick disconnected as the dispatcher asked his location.

  “About forty miles west, leaving the Best West dinner.”

  “Then you’re close.” She exhaled so hard he heard it vibrate on the mike. “There is a major pile-up a few miles east. You’re needed to help clear the road.”

  “On my way.”

  ****

  Heather strained her neck to peer through the windshield. Her shoulders ached with tension. The thick snow was falling too fast for the wipers. She slowed a little more, and her tires slipped on the icy pavement. She wiped sweat from her forehead. The last thing she needed was an accident.

  Pump the breaks, she reminded herself, pump. And steer into a skid. Her stiff fingers curled around the wheel. Several larger vehicles swished past, spattering muck on her overworked wipers.

  “Stupid, stupid, stupid,” she cranked under her breath. Instead of stopping by her New Haven apartment for another pair of shoes to match her d
ress, she should have driven straight to Boston. That wasted hour had pinned her like a bug in the middle of this wretched traffic.

  She squinted through the windshield. Headlights blazed in her rearview mirror, and she flinched. A heavy semi-truck passed her on the left, the backdraft bumping her compact vehicle sideways. She bit her lip, suppressing the urge to call the driver names.

  Her brain stuttered as the huge truck seemed to bend in half. It filled the lane in front of her. The back end swung like a gate across the road. Horns blared. The wheel twisted under her hands when her car lost traction.

  Pump the brakes. Steer.

  Snow, the truck, the guardrail spun across her vision.

  There was nowhere to go.

  She closed her eyes and prayed. A violent jerk filled with the crunch of metal and the crack of breaking glass popped her eyes open. Fear streaked through her like an electric shock when her airbag exploded in her face. Her seatbelt cut painfully across her chest and kept her in her seat. The stink of gasoline replaced the scent of fresh-baked cookies.

  Pain splashed across her body when she wheezed out. She hadn’t heard anything snap, and she could move. Relief made her dizzy. Her car was mashed against the truck trailer like a thrown cupcake. She was alive, although her face hurt. Her fingers twitched while she worked to release the seat belt. She gradually became aware of the horrendous noise. Screams echoed on the wind blowing through the smashed passenger window.

  She strained to see past the broken windshield. Her throat hurt when she swallowed. Other vehicles lay tangled in a mess, not just the truck and her car. She prayed another car wouldn’t hit her again and inhaled to calm her racing pulse. She finally got the seatbelt lock to release, forced her door open, and stood. Her knees shook, and she had to hang onto the sagging door for support. She stared around. Headlights glittered like monster eyes. Her vehicle was at the edge of a horrendous multi-car pile-up.

  Sirens wailed like lost children. Blinding red and blue lights flashed everywhere as emergency personnel rushed by. Her hands shook as she dragged on her cashmere coat. Time squeezed and expanded like an accordion being played. A fireman asked if she was okay and ran on at her nod.