Three Brides, No Groom
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As if that wasn’t bad enough, Didi had hit her with the ugly details shortly after the graduation ceremony. Instead of getting to enjoy the sense of exhilaration and accomplishment she’d felt on receiving her diploma, Gretchen had seen her world fall apart when Didi cornered her on the front steps of the sorority house shortly after her parents had left for Canada and delivered her news.
“Mom’s waiting,” Roger pressed now, breaking into her thoughts.
“Then she’ll just have to wait. I told you, I need time to sort everything out.” Gretchen knew that his mother was not the patient sort. Stella Lockheart was a forceful woman who generally got what she wanted. Both Roger and his father catered to her wishes rather than risk dealing with one of her explosive outbursts.
Gretchen could tell by the way Roger’s breathing altered that he wasn’t pleased with her decision. He’d been calm and in control, at his persuasive best. Now he was impatient and frustrated. Fine, so be it. She wasn’t going to let him pressure her, nor would she be rushed because he was afraid of a confrontation with his mother. This was her life, and she was determined to take a long hard look before making a decision about the future.
“OK, if that’s what you want,” Roger said shortly. “I’ll tell Mom to go on ahead without you.”
She nodded.
He lingered a moment longer, his gaze boring into hers. “There isn’t any reason to tell Mom about what happened, is there?”
Gretchen almost felt sorry for him. “Why would I want to humiliate myself even further?” she asked.
He was visibly relieved as he turned and hurried toward the parking lot. As Gretchen watched him go, the knot in the pit of her stomach tightened. Needing to do something, anything other than stand there on the veranda, she moved down the steps and began walking. She soon found herself by the fountain, and with a heavy heart, she lowered herself onto the concrete rim. The urge to bury her face in her hands and weep was nearly overwhelming, but she had too much pride to publicly display her pain.
Most of the activity around the school had stopped. Graduation was over, and the majority of students had already left the campus. She was grateful for the quiet, a rarity at the university. She needed to mull over what she’d learned, to assimilate what Didi had told her, followed by Roger’s weak justifications.
Every time she tried to make sense of the cold ugly facts of his infidelity, distance herself from them, she stumbled over the pain.
Again and again, Roger had told her how much he loved her, how she would be the perfect wife for him. His insistence caused her to wonder if he was mouthing his mother’s sentiments, not his own. A man who truly loved her wouldn’t step into a closet with Didi Wilson. But at the same time, Roger was full of regret. Despite her own pain, she could sense his. He was genuinely sorry. She wanted, needed, to believe that.
One thing he’d said rang true. Didi had never made a secret of how attractive she found Roger. Nor had she bothered to disguise her dislike for Gretchen. It was probably that dislike that had prompted Didi to confront her.
Didi’s neck had been covered with hickeys so livid that no amount of makeup could fully hide them. She’d boldly walked up to Gretchen, looked her in the eyes, smiled and then casually asked her if she knew what Roger had been doing the night before. At Gretchen’s stunned silence, Didi had crudely asked Gretchen if she thought she was woman enough to satisfy Roger’s healthy sexual appetite. The question insinuated that she wasn’t and never would be.
The roar of an engine shattered the peace. Gretchen glanced up to see Josh Morrow speed across the campus parking lot on his Harley, a plume of dark exhaust in his wake. He’d been cited by campus security a dozen times, she’d heard, for driving above the speed limit, but it hadn’t fazed him.
Josh was a loner, a known troublemaker, a rebel. She’d spoken to him once months earlier, and Roger had been furious with her. In the weeks since, she’d avoided Josh, but that hadn’t stopped her from noticing him. He stood apart from everyone, watching, studying. The outsider, looking in. He hadn’t sought her out again, and she was grateful. She supposed it was natural to feel a certain attraction toward Josh. She suspected a lot of the women at Queen Anne did. Maybe it was the black leather and the motorcycle, the sense that the love of a good woman would tame him.
Now her gaze must have lingered on him a second longer than was prudent, for he eased his huge bike to a stop, placed his feet on the road to maintain his balance and stared at her. After what seemed an eternity, he revved the engine, then roared over the cement curb and onto the narrow walkway, directly toward her.
Gretchen stood, her heart in her throat. The last thing she wanted was company.
He pulled to a stop right in front of her. Lifting the helmet from his head, he studied her for a moment and then asked with surprising gentleness, “Gretchen, what happened?”
She stiffened, shocked that he had read her so easily. “Nothing.”
His smile was decidedly off center. “You should never lie, not when you do such a poor job of it.”
She lowered her gaze and rubbed her palms together. “It’s something I’d rather not discuss.”
He stepped off the Harley and lowered the kickstand. “Fair enough.”
His size was intimidating. He was at least six-two, maybe even six-three, almost dwarfing her five foot eight. She crossed her arms over her chest, wondering at his intentions. As if he didn’t have a care in the world, he leaned over the fountain, scooped up a handful of water and drenched his face.
He glanced toward her and chuckled, the sound low and teasing. “Don’t worry, I won’t bite.”
“I’m not worried,” she lied.
His soft snicker told her she hadn’t convinced him. “I don’t sacrifice virgins, either.”
“I suggest you don’t start now. I’d crawl off the altar.”
He laughed, but this time the sound was rich and deep. Ignoring her, he turned his face toward the sky, and his features glistened as the water dripped from his face. “Where’s lover boy this afternoon?” he asked.
His question caught her off guard. From his tone, it was clear that Josh knew about Roger and Didi. How many others did? Her face filled with a rush of hot embarrassed color.
“Who told you?” she asked, her voice low and trembling despite her effort to remain cool and calm. Between Didi and Roger’s so-called friends, the news must be everywhere by now.
“Is it important?” he asked. His words were soft, quiet, as if he feared saying them would increase her pain.
“No, I guess it isn’t.” Some students thought of Gretchen as privileged. While it was true her family had considerable wealth, when serving as the student-body president she’d crossed swords with any number who willingly tossed her background in her face. Her hard work as a communicator and volunteer, and her fervor for honesty and justice, often won them over. Until recently she preferred to think of her friends as many and her enemies as few. Now she wasn’t so sure.
Josh’s gaze turned narrow and assessing, which increased her embarrassment tenfold. She inhaled a quivering breath.
“Roger’s a first-class fool,” Josh said at last. “He deserves to have his teeth kicked in.”
While in theory she agreed with him—she wanted to see Roger suffer for what he’d done—her sensibilities didn’t lean toward violence. Roger had allowed the blame to ricochet from Didi to Gretchen and then back to Didi. Gretchen wanted to scream and demand that Roger accept responsibility for his own actions. To own up to what he’d done, instead of listing excuses meant to absolve him of any guilt.
“Gretchen!”
As if her thoughts had conjured him up, Roger was striding across the lawn toward the fountain. “What the hell are you doing here, Morrow?” he asked, arriving breathless, his chest heaving.
When Josh didn’t immediately answer, Roger faced Gretchen. “Is he pestering you?”
“Of course not,” she replied, angered by both the question and the insinuation.
“I told you to stay away from Gretchen,” Roger snarled at Josh. As though she needed his protection, he reached out and grabbed hold of her arm.
“I suggest you let go of her,” Josh said, his voice deceptively calm.
Roger ignored him. “Come on, Gretchen, let’s get out of here.”
She jerked her arm free of his grasp and met his look squarely. “I haven’t finished thinking about you and me yet.”
Anger flared in Roger’s dark eyes. “What’s Morrow doing here?”
“What do you care?” Josh asked, his words a challenge.
Roger glared at Josh and seemed to be weighing the odds of engaging in a fistfight, then decided against it. Wisely, she thought.
“Gretchen, I think you’d better come with me,” he said, calmer this time.
“I’m not ready to leave yet.” She wasn’t looking to defy Roger, but she needed time to deal with a multitude of pressing questions. Decisions had to be made, the consequences of which she would have to live with for the rest of her life.
Again Roger’s eyes flared with anger.
“You heard the lady,” Josh inserted smoothly, with that cocky grin of his.
Gretchen whirled on him. “I can do my own talking, thank you.”
“Fine.” Josh raised his right hand in a mocking gesture of peace.
Tight-lipped, Roger said, “Either you get out of here, Morrow, or I’m calling security. Your kind isn’t welcome around here. Why don’t you go visit your daddy in prison? Have a good look around, since that’s where you’re headed yourself.”
Josh looked unconcerned, which only served to anger Roger more. But Gretchen noticed the vein in Josh’s temple throb and knew Roger’s words had affected him.
“You should have been expelled long ago,” Roger added, then doubled up his fist and took a wild swing at Josh, who didn’t so much as blink when the punch went wide.
“Maybe Dean Williams is looking for a valid excuse to be rid of me,” Josh suggested casually. “What he really needs is a charge that’ll stick. How about assault?” As he spoke, his fist shot out and exploded against Roger’s nose.
Stunned, Roger stumbled backward. His hand flew to his face, and blood oozed between his fingers. “I’m bleeding!” he cried in horror. “Now you’ve done it, Morrow,” he threatened. “You’re finished at this school. I’ll make sure of that.”
“I can’t tell you how worried I am.” Josh reached for his helmet and climbed aboard his motorcycle. He started the engine and then, as though in afterthought, he turned and looked at Gretchen. His eyes locked with hers as he slowly extended his arm to her.
She hesitated, unsure what to do.
“Go with him and the engagement is off,” Roger threatened.
It was all the incentive she needed. She slipped the diamond ring off her finger and tossed it to Roger, then leaped onto the motorcycle behind Josh.
He revved the engine, spewing exhaust at Roger, then raced off in the direction of the sun.
Chapter 2
Gretchen had never ridden on a motorcycle before. She wrapped her arms tightly around Josh’s waist as they headed down the narrow asphalt pathway. When he changed gears, she could hear Roger shouting curses after them. Closing her eyes, she savored the look of shock and dismay on Roger’s face when she’d returned his ring and leaped onto the back of the Harley with Josh. In retrospect, her actions had been foolhardy, but also purely instinctual. As the wind whipped her hair around her face, she smiled. This one small act of rebellion had cheered her considerably.
They sped across the school parking lot toward the busy four-lane street that bordered the university. Gretchen didn’t have a clue where Josh was taking her, and at the moment she didn’t care. She angled her face into the wind, letting it dry the tears from her cheeks. For the first time since Didi had confronted her, the oppressive tightness surrounding her heart lessened.
Josh eased to a stop in a restaurant parking lot several blocks from the university. He twisted in the seat to look at her, keeping the huge bike balanced between his legs.
“Where do you want me to take you?” he asked.
“Where?” she repeated, not knowing how to answer him. It would have suited her to ride off into the sunset and forget everything. Forget Didi. Forget Roger and the ugly scene by the fountain. Forget that she had less than fifty dollars cash on her and nowhere to go.
“To the airport?” Josh suggested.
“I…Roger’s mother has my ticket. I’d originally planned to spend a week with her putting the finishing touches on our wedding plans.”
Josh glared at her. “You’re not going to ask for that creep’s ring back, are you?”
“No.” And she meant it. Despite all the time and energy—and emotion—that had gone into the wedding plans, she could not accept what he’d done. One part of her had wanted to look past his infidelity and pretend everything would eventually be all right. But the other part knew their relationship would never be the same again. If Roger was unfaithful before they were married, she could never trust him after the wedding. He was nowhere near ready to be a husband.
“Good,” Josh said. “You deserve better.”
“Could you take me to Mary Ann Seawright’s?” she asked. Mary Ann was a friend who lived nearby. Gretchen could stay there until her parents returned from British Columbia. Of course, she could always contact Mrs. Lockheart about her airline ticket, but she preferred not to. She feared Roger’s mother would attempt to change her mind, and Gretchen lacked the emotional energy to lock horns with the woman. If anyone was forced to deal with her, it should be Roger. Gretchen preferred to sever all ties.
“Does Roger know Mary Ann?” Josh asked.
“Yes. She goes out with his friend Bill Beckett. The four of us often double-dated.” Of course, she realized, that meant Roger would soon know exactly where she’d gone.
“Where’s home?” Josh asked next.
She bit her lower lip. Home had never seemed so far away. “San Francisco, but my parents are on vacation. They won’t be back for several days.” Not until then did she realize she had no means of getting home, anyway. Unlike so many other parents, hers had never chosen to give her an all-purpose credit card, and she had run her bank balance down to nearly nothing in preparation for setting up a new joint account with Roger.
That cocky half grin of Josh’s slid into place. “As it happens, I’m headed in that direction. You can ride along with me, if you want. I’ll drop you off in Frisco and continue on my way.” He paused as if to read her reaction to his offer. “Fact is, I’d welcome the company.”
Gretchen wasn’t sure how to answer. While it was true that he was offering her a way out of a tricky situation, she didn’t really know Josh Morrow. His reputation would be enough to turn her mother’s hair prematurely white.
His eyes glinted with challenge, and it seemed he was waiting for her to reject his generosity.
“I appreciate it, but…” She stalled, unsure and a little afraid.
“But?”
“I don’t have much cash with me. Fifty dollars at the most, although I do have a gasoline credit card.”
“Hey, we’re in fat city,” Josh teased. “I’ve only got a little more than a hundred bucks myself.”
She grinned. “OK, I accept.” She’d never done anything more impulsive in her life. She might not know Josh very well, but she trusted him. Of course, she’d also trusted Roger. But she was her own woman, and despite the bad-boy tag Josh wore like a badge of honor, she would rather ride home with him on the back of a Harley than deal with Roger, or his family, ever again.
“I’m sure my father would be more than happy to reimburse you for any expenses,” she said.
“We’ll discuss that later. What will you need to take with you?”
“Not much,” she promised, knowing he wouldn’t have room for more than the essentials.
Once he checked to be sure Roger was nowhere in sight, Josh dropped her off at the sorority house with a promise to return within the hour.
Mrs. Vance, the housemother, regarded her anxiously when Gretchen walked in the front door.
“Thank goodness you’re back,” the middle-aged woman said with a heavy sigh. “Roger Lockheart was here no more than five minutes ago, looking for you. He’s such a nice young man, and he’s worried sick about you taking off with Josh Morrow that way. I never did trust a man on a motorcycle.”
Gretchen bit her tongue to keep from saying that she trusted Josh far more than she did Roger. It wouldn’t do any good to argue, and she didn’t have time to waste.
“Give Roger a call, why don’t you?” Mrs. Vance called as Gretchen raced up the stairs. “I’m sure it’s nothing more than a lovers’ spat.”
Ignoring the suggestion, Gretchen hurried to her room, where her two large suitcases rested undisturbed. She quickly sorted through what she’d packed, scooped up what she truly needed and stuffed it into a small tote bag. Then she sat on the edge of the bed, went through her purse and counted her cash. Fifty-five dollars. Afraid that if she lingered much longer Roger would return, she raced down the stairs, pulling out her cell phone on the way.
Luckily Mary Ann was home. “I need you to do something for me,” Gretchen said without preamble.
Her longtime friend must have heard the urgency in her voice. “Of course. What do you need?”
“I’m leaving my suitcases with Mrs. Vance. Could you come and get them for me?”
“Uh, sure, but why in heaven’s name do you need me to—”
“I don’t have time to explain now,” Gretchen broke in. “I’ve broken my engagement to Roger.”
Mary Ann gasped. “Gretchen, for the love of heaven, what happened?”
“I’ll call and tell you everything once I’m home.”
“Home? But how are you going to get to San Francisco?”
Gretchen heard the unmistakable roar of Josh’s Harley outside. “I can’t tell you now. I’ll phone soon, I promise.”
“But…but…”
Gretchen severed the connection. She reached for her purse and the tote bag, and discovered Mrs. Vance standing in front of the living-room window. The woman was holding the curtain to one side and glaring, her mouth twisted in disapproval.
“I wonder what that Morrow boy is doing here?” she muttered.
“He’s here for me,” Gretchen announced, enjoying the pure shock value of the statement.
The housemother gasped and swiveled to stare at her. “But you—”
Gretchen interrupted her. “I’m going with him.” Until that moment, she hadn’t realized how much she longed for her home and her family. “Goodbye, Mrs. Vance.”
“Gretchen…Gretchen, I must insist—”
“I’ll be fine, don’t worry.” She raced out the front door and bounded down the steps. Josh handed her a second helmet, and while she placed it on her head and fastened the strap, he tucked the tote bag into one of the leather bags draped over the back of the bike. He climbed on, and she positioned herself behind him.
Before they roared away, Gretchen turned back to find Mrs. Vance standing on the porch, her fingertips to her mouth as if she wasn’t sure what she should do.
Gretchen, however, had never been more confident. Only a few hours earlier her heart had been breaking. Now, on the back of Josh Morrow’s Harley, with the wind in her face and her arms securely wrapped around his muscular torso, she was free. Truly free.
Unfortunately, the feeling didn’t last. Before long, questions and doubts were buzzing through her head like mosquitoes over a stagnant pond. The wedding invitations had been engraved, and her wedding dress ordered from an exclusive boutique. Her parents had booked the ballroom of a five-star hotel for the reception. All that money and effort, all the planning and dreaming, had been wasted. Her face burned with humiliation, knowing she was the one who would have to deal with the cancellations. But what was the use in dwelling on the negative? The only important thing was that she couldn’t marry Roger.
After some time on the road, the deafening sound of the Harley vibrating in her ears, she shifted on the seat, both physically and mentally miserable. What had seemed daring and exciting a few hours earlier appeared exceedingly foolish now. Her back ached from holding herself upright and not leaning against Josh. Her legs felt as if they were locked into position, and she was certain her calves would soon cramp up on her. To top everything off, Josh apparently had the bladder of a camel.
When at last he did stop, she was afraid he would need to pry her off the bike with a crowbar. She looked around and realized they were at the ocean. Huge rolling waves crashed against the shore, then lovingly stroked a frothy trail across the sand. Large gray-and-white gulls circled overhead, and the scent of the sea lingered in the moist air. The sun was a brilliant orange disk on the horizon, ready to slip out of sight. Already dusk was settling in.
“Where are we?” she asked, easing first one leg and then the other away from the motorcycle. Josh lent her a hand, which she gratefully accepted.
“Cannon Beach, Oregon,” he replied.
Vaguely she recalled crossing the Columbia River at Astoria. She’d actually kept her eyes closed most of the time, needing to think. At this rate, she should be home within two days, three at the most.
With his hands braced on his hips, Josh surveyed the sky. “I don’t think it’ll rain.” He left her and walked toward the beach. She looked longingly at the public rest room but followed him, wanting to know where he intended to spend the night. It went without saying that they wouldn’t be sharing a room.
Her shoes quickly filled with sand, and she found keeping pace with him difficult.
“We’ll bed down here for the night,” he announced.
“Here?” she asked, looking around. All she saw was barren sand. “The beach?”
“Do you have any better ideas?”
She glanced over her shoulder at the long row of oceanfront hotels.
“For seventy-five bucks you’ll get a room the size of refrigerator,” he said, his gaze trained on the ocean.
She squared her shoulders. “Well, then, the beach it is.”
He grinned as if to say he admired her adventurous spirit. “There’s a shower in the public rest room, if you want to take one.”
Gretchen did. She was afraid to look in a mirror, certain there must be bugs glued to her teeth. Her clothes felt plastered to her body.
She took what she needed from the saddlebag—a towel, washcloth and her cosmetic case—and headed for the rest room. It smelled of urine and ocean, but looked clean enough. The shower stall, minus the curtain, was in one corner. She stripped off her clothes and stood under the spray. Despite the lukewarm temperature, it felt luxurious.
As she turned her face into the water, the ache returned to the pit of her stomach. She leaned against the back of the open stall and cradled her middle. That morning she’d awakened thinking all was right with the world. She had her business degree and within weeks would be wed to Roger. And now, in the space of a few hours, her reality had changed completely.
When the water turned from lukewarm to chilly, she reached for the towel. Once she was dressed, she felt better. It was when she combed out her long blond hair in front of the metal mirror that she made the decision. She stared at her distorted reflection, the comb halfway down the side of her head.
She had only herself to please now, not Roger. Her fingers trembled as she dug through her cosmetic bag until she found a small pair of scissors. Seizing the pale tresses, she snipped at the sides with erratic, disjointed motions. She hacked and cut until the long strands of hair lay at her feet like discarded remnants of spun gold. Despite the distorted reflection, she knew she’d brutalized her once lovely hair. Breathing hard, she waited several minutes before she gathered up the courage to go back outside.
By the time she left the rest room, the sun had completely set. A full moon cast a golden glow across the beach. Josh had spread out a blanket and lit a small driftwood fire, and was now working his pocket knife against a stick, whittling it to a point. He glanced up as she approached. He said nothing about her mutilated hair.