Have Husband, Need Honeymoon (12 page)

“What?”

Her mother played with the gold chain around her neck, looking uncertain, surprising Alison more. “Look, honey, I know I haven’t been around much—”

“You haven’t been around at all for the last twenty-some years.”

“Right.” Her mother took a deep breath. “But I’m here now for you girls, and I’ll help you any way I can.”

“You’re filing the papers. That’s all I want from you.”

Hurt flickered in her mother’s eyes. “I know I deserve that, Alison, that I’ve been a terrible mother…”

Alison remained silent. She certainly couldn’t argue with that.

“But I do understand the pain of a divorce, even if it’s one you choose to have. There’s a certain sense of failure, of sadness.”

“You felt those things when you divorced Dad?”

“Yes.” Janelle rubbed at her temple. “I’ve carried around a lot of guilt and a sense of failure for years. I don’t want you to do that.”

Alison bit her lip. She did feel a sense of failure. “And I have to admit Wiley’s been a wonderful father. I look at him now and admire him.”

Alison was speechless. Her mother was actually complimenting Wiley, sounding as if she liked him. But she was right – her father had been wonderful, devoted and steadfast even when the girls had gone through awkward rebellious stages and tried to push him away.

The meeting with Brady came to Alison’s mind, and the sense that he might be trying to punish himself. That he was pushing her away. It had been a long time since they’d spoken their vows. His accident, the therapy – this was definitely a rough time for Brady. Maybe he needed to know she would love him for better or
worse
.

Maybe her sense of failure was coming from not fighting hard enough, from giving up too soon.

“Alison, are you all right? You have a funny look on your face.”

Alison looked at her mother and smiled. “Yes, I’m fine. But I have to go.” She hurried through the doorway, adrenaline pumping through her. Maybe she should think of a plan, a way to get close to Brady again, to
show
him she loved him. After all, her divorce would be final on the same day Brady’s sister got married.

She had less than three weeks to convince Brady they could have a future together.

Chapter 11

«
^
»

B
rady awoke with a start. He’d had another nightmare.

But this time he hadn’t dreamed about the crash. He stared into the predawn light, a mixture of relief and anxiety splintering through him.

Instead, he’d dreamed about staying at the print shop. He’d seen himself in five years, buried in paperwork, bored, irritable, thirty pounds heavier with a beer gut of his own, stopping by the Pug every day with Bobby Raye, dating an endless number of women, going nowhere in life. In the dream, he staggered out of the bar and saw Alison pregnant with another man’s child.

Disgusted, he threw back the covers, climbed from bed and dressed in running shorts again. He stepped outside and drank in the fresh air.

Once again he found himself walking by the rec center. He’d promised himself he wouldn’t watch Alison swim again, yet, after that dream, he had to see her.

She was swimming her laps, had already started the breaststroke, the peaceful silence accentuated by the occasional ripple of her arms brushing through the water. Today she wore a simple dark green suit that hugged her curves and dipped slightly lower in front to give a hint of cleavage. He stood in the shadows, his body hard at the sight of her. He ached to go inside the pool area, yet he held back. His sister was right – he wasn’t the old Brady. He was a coward.

Too afraid to tell her the truth about himself, too afraid to see the disgust or disappointment in her eyes when he revealed his flaws.

“Brady?”

His breath caught at the sound of his name. Unable to help himself, he moved to the side of the pool and knelt. Alison propped her arms on the edge, water droplets glistening on her skin and hair, a soft smile on her face.

“I wish you’d join me.”

He shook his head, unable to speak. Then she cupped his chin with her hand, pulled his face down and kissed him. He savored the sweetness of her lips, the subtle hunger in the throaty moan that escaped her when they finally pulled apart.

“I’ve missed you, Brady.”

“I missed you, too,” he heard himself admit.

She pressed her forehead against his, her breath whispering in the silence of the room. And he knew then that he didn’t want to wind up like the man in his dreams. He missed the old Brady, and he wanted him back.

“I’ll see you later?” she asked softly.

He nodded, drew in a deep breath, straightened his aching leg, then turned and left, determined to face his demons.

* * *

Alison finished her laps, confusion mingling with hope as she remembered the kiss, the gentle way he’d responded, the hungry need in his eyes when they’d pulled apart. She showered and dressed, contemplating the kiss along with everything Brady had said since he’d returned. He did still want her, at least on some elemental physical level. But would it be enough to bring them back together?

* * *

Later, at home, Brady showered and dressed, grateful for the progress he was making during the grueling therapy sessions. Although the doctor had said he would always have a slight limp, his leg was already feeling stronger, his limp seemed less pronounced.

He met his mother in the kitchen. She was already pouring his coffee. “Do you want to ride in together today?”

He froze, realizing how easily he’d let her take control of his life. It was time he took it back. If he wanted Alison to respect him, he had to respect himself first. Maybe Vivi had been right. Maybe he had been feeling sorry for himself. “No, Mom, I have something I need to do first. Do you think I could take Dad’s old
Durango
?”

“Sure. I try to drive it once a week just to keep it running.” She lifted a shaky hand to her cheek. “I keep telling myself I should sell it, but I just haven’t been able to part with the thing.”

His father had loved the old
Durango
, had taken it up in the mountains for days at a time when he went fishing. Brady wrapped his arm around his mother’s shoulders and hugged her, thinking of Alison’s letters and how difficult it was to give up certain sentimental things.

Thirty minutes later, he sat outside the small airport, staring at the runway, watching as one of the pilots pulled his aircraft from a small plane port and gassed it up. Brady’s heart beat double time, while adrenaline and the old familiar itch of excitement budded in his chest. Yet his hands trembled as he opened the car door and climbed out.

He walked to the larger hangar and stuck his head in. A tall thin man wearing coveralls threw up a hand. “Hi, there. What can I do for you?”

Brady introduced himself.

“Oh, right, you’re Vivica’s brother. She talks about you all the time. Told us what a hotshot pilot you are.”

Used to be
. “I was driving by and wondered if you’d mind if I looked around.”

The man, who appeared to be in his forties, stuck out his hand. “Sure don’t. Name’s George. I run the flying service around here, got a few pilots that keep their planes here.”

“Hannah Hartwell mentioned something about wanting to start a medical flight service here.”

“Yeah, they’re looking into buying a chopper. Gonna need someone who knows what he’s doing to take it up in the mountains. Right now all we have are those Cessnas. They can’t get in and out of places a chopper could.”

“Right.” Brady touched the Cessna’s wing. The metal felt cool and slick, comforting like an old friend.

“Check her out if you want. I need to talk to Daryl Sawyer before he takes off.” He pointed to the other pilot, now preparing for flight, and Brady thanked him.

Pushing memories of the crash from his mind, he climbed inside the plane. Baby steps– wasn’t that what the psychologist who’d evaluated him after the crash had said? She’d diagnosed him as having post-traumatic stress disorder and assured him he’d recover little by little. She’d told him talking about the accident would help rid himself of the guilt.

But he hadn’t been able to do that. He’d bottled up his feelings until he felt like a bottle with a cork ready to blow.

But he was taking a step today. He moved into the cockpit and slid into the seat, breathing deeply to calm himself. He could do this; he could face his demons. And maybe he could actually fly again, someday.

He ran his hand along the seat, reached out to touch the control panel, but his fingers began to shake, his heart to pound.
You can do this. Get a grip
.

He rubbed his fingers along the radio, reviewed the checklist on the clipboard, remembering all the steps that needed to be checked before takeoff. He mentally went through those steps, checked the gas and looked out onto the runway.

Josh’s face appeared in front of him, his eyes wide with fear, his hair matted with blood, fire licking at him. Brady coughed and let out a groan, voices echoing in his head.

“Pull up, pull up, you’re too close to the mountain!”

“Something’s wrong, man. I’m going down.”

“Eject! Now, Josh!”

“I’m trying. The eject button’s malfunctioning!”

The Cessna’s windshield became a blur, the images of the crash reeling across it like a horror show on a movie screen. Brady dragged himself from the plane, leaning against its metal flank to get some air, nearly choking on the unshed tears clogged in his throat.

* * *

Alison felt dizzy from the scents in the floral shop, almost as dizzy as she had this morning after her swim. She’d felt Brady’s eyes on her, had known the moment he’d appeared. And she hadn’t been able to stop herself from kissing him.

“Hello, Earth to Alison.” Vivica waved her hand in front of Alison’s face. “We were talking about the flowers.”

“Oh, right. Sorry.”

Vivica laughed. “That’s okay, but I’d love to know what you were thinking. You had this really weird look on your face.”

Alison picked a rose from the assortment on the counter and sniffed it. “What kind of look?”

“Like you were thinking of somebody.” Vivica grinned. “A man. Maybe my brother?”

Alison laughed. “Don’t be silly. How could you tell that from a look?”

“Your cheeks were flushed.”

“They were not.” Alison batted at her with the tip of the rose. “Now, choose your flowers so we can have lunch. I’m starved.”

“Okay, but we will finish this discussion. I want to talk to you about Brady.”

Alison opened her mouth to argue, but Vivica silenced her with a warning look. “I want yellow roses in my bridal bouquet, and how about the bridesmaids carry white?”

“That’ll look great with the pale blue bridesmaids’ dresses,” Alison said. “We can add shades of green for accents. I’ll have the florist make you a special throwaway bouquet so you can preserve the one you carry in the ceremony.”

“Perfect.” Vivica hugged her. “I never would have thought of that.”

Alison helped Vivica place the order, suggesting she could save money by using fresh flowers for the reception, and Vivica agreed.

“The more money we’ll have to spend on our honeymoon.” She paused and grabbed Alison’s hand. “You and Brady didn’t take a honeymoon, did you?”

Alison nearly dropped her clipboard. “He told you?”

“Yes.” Vivica chuckled. “Actually, I kind of dragged it out of him.”

Alison blew out a shaky breath. “It was a long time ago.”

“Not so long ago that you two don’t still love each other.”

“Vivi—”

“We’re going to discuss this, Ali.” Vivica pulled her outside and they ducked into the Hotspot.

Alison checked quickly, grateful her mother and father weren’t around. They waved to Mimi, who sat huddled with Seth, having lunch. Seth had dozens of pamphlets of baby paraphernalia spread on the table, while Mimi cuddled a big yellow elephant Seth had obviously bought.

After they’d ordered sandwiches, Vivica began. “I had a major talk with Brady last night.”

“And?”

“And he finally threw me out, but I think I hit a nerve. I think Brady’s scared.”

Alison gulped. “Of what?”

“Of you not wanting him because of the scars.”

Leave it to Vivica to be up-front. “That’s crazy. I don’t care about a few scars.”

“I know that and you know that, but my brother can be so stubborn. Did you want the divorce?”

“I don’t know.” Alison shrugged and explained. “When Brady stopped writing and then returned my letters without opening them, I assumed he’d met someone else. That he didn’t want me anymore.”

“That’s not what happened.”

“I know. He explained about the flight training, and now I know about the accident. But you should have heard him, Vivi. He said he wanted the divorce, that we weren’t kids with silly dreams anymore. I won’t cling to someone who doesn’t want me.”

“How about fighting for the man you love?”

Alison pressed a finger to her temple. “What if he doesn’t love me anymore?”

“Then he’s either a fool or the military is training idiots.” Vivica sighed and pressed her spoon against her tea bag. “My theory is that he feels bad about the crash and he’s blaming himself, and he’s afraid you’ll think he’s … I don’t know, less than he was before.”

Alison pushed her sandwich away, her appetite forgotten. “That’s crazy.”

“I know, but Brady does have that kind of macho man mentality.”

“You may have a point. I’ve been wondering if he thought he had to punish himself or something.”

“So, what are you going to do?”

Kiss him again and find out?
“I don’t know, Vivi. But if I figure it out, I’ll let you know.”

Vivica wiggled her finger. “Come here. I have an idea. You know that thirty-day waiting period…?”

Alison twisted her mouth, wondering what her friend had in mind. Vivica always had had a sneaky side to her.

* * *

Brady showered after his therapy session, every muscle in his body protesting. Instead of letting up, Vivica seemed to be getting tougher with each session.