Apple Blossom Bride

Ashley shook her head, smiling. “I don’t think so.”

“Why?”

The bald question took her by surprise.

“Because.”

“That’s not an answer.” Michael kicked at a stone on the ground before meeting her gaze. “I’m not looking for anything more than a friend I can talk to. My daughter’s great, but sometimes it’s nice to talk to another adult.”

“I’m sure there are lots of adults you can talk to.”

“But not you?”

She shrugged. “I won’t be here that long. Just enough time to put my world back together again.”

He nodded, his dark eyes full of empathy.

“Believe me, I understand that. If you want to talk, call me.”

“And you’ll make time in that busy schedule of yours?”

He lifted her hand, brushed his lips against her knuckles. “I’ll make time for you.”

LOIS RICHER

Sneaking a flashlight under the blankets, hiding in a thicket of Caragana bushes where no one could see, pushing books into socks to take to camp—those are just some of the things Lois Richer freely admits to in her pursuit of the written word. “I’m a book-a-holic. I can’t do without stories,” she confesses. “It’s always been that way.”

Her love of language evolved into writing her own stories. Today her passion is to create tales of personal struggle that lead to triumph over life’s rocky road. For Lois, a happy ending is essential.

“In my stories, as in my own life, God has a way of making all things beautiful. Writing a love story is my way of reinforcing my faith in His ultimate goodness toward us—His precious children.”

Apple Blossom Bride

Lois Richer

I am holding you by your right hand—

I the Lord your God—and I say to you,

Don’t be afraid; I am here to help you.

—Isaiah 41:13

This book is dedicated to my dad. I love you.

Contents

Prologue

Chapter One

Chapter Two

Chapter Three

Chapter Four

Chapter Five

Chapter Six

Chapter Seven

Chapter Eight

Chapter Nine

Chapter Ten

Chapter Eleven

Chapter Twelve

Chapter Thirteen

Chapter Fourteen

Chapter Fifteen

Epilogue

Letter to Reader

Questions for Discussion

Prologue

Seventeen Years Ago

“How can they do it, Pip?”

Ashley Adams scrubbed at her cheek, struggling to eradicate tears that wouldn’t stop flowing. Sobbing made her hiccup. She had to pause to catch her breath before she could get out her next question.

“My parents promised to love each other until death parted them and now they’re getting a divorce. How can they do that?”

“I don’t know.” Piper Langley sat down cross-legged beside her on the fresh spring grass, her forehead creased in a frown of perplexity. “I don’t understand adults at all, Ash. I wish I did.”

“Me, too. We’ll be teenagers pretty soon. We’re supposed to get smarter about this love stuff but I don’t get it. I don’t want to have two homes. I don’t want to leave my dad or Serenity Bay.” She wept. “I just want my family together.”

Piper, good friend that she was, silently shared her grief.

“At Bible study last week Mrs. Masters said love is a decision.” Ashley sniffed as she plucked the tumbling apple blossoms off her sweater. “My parents could decide to love each other, they could decide to stay married.”

“If they told you about their decision today, it doesn’t sound like they’re going to change their minds,” Piper warned. She checked her watch. “I’ve got to get home. Gran told me not to be late today. I want to stay with you,” she hurried to explain, “but if I’m any later they’ll worry.”

“It’s okay.” Ashley sniffed, managed a weak smile. “I understand. You go on. I think I’ll stay here for a little while.”

“Don’t stay too long or you’ll be completely covered in apple blossoms.” Piper jumped to her feet, black pigtails bobbing. She bent, hugged Ashley once in a tight squeeze, then grabbed her backpack, climbed on her bike and pedaled down the road toward her grandparents’ home.

Ashley wished she could follow. Pip was so lucky. Her grandparents loved each other, and her. They would never make her choose between them.

You’re away at school most of the year, anyway, honey. You’ll spend the summers with me, and Christmas and Easter with your mother. Or would you rather have it the other way around?

Who cared? The point was she wouldn’t have a home. Not a real one.

A moment later her friend had disappeared from sight and Ashley was all alone in the churchyard with only the tumbling blossoms to listen to. Behind her, the woods rustled as the wind tickled newly sprouted leaves, but she paid no attention.

“I trusted you, God. I prayed and prayed, but they’re still getting a divorce. I’m scared.”

The words sounded worse when she said them out loud. She laid her head on her arms and wept for everything she was about to lose, uncaring that the afternoon sun weakened, unseeing when it let fingers of gloom creep in.

A rustle behind her drew her attention. But, before she could check it out, hard fingers locked on to her arm, pinching so tight she dropped her tissue.

“Get up. Slowly now. Don’t make a sound.”

Ashley blinked, startled by the command of a man who looked like a storybook hermit. She obeyed automatically, thinking she must know him. A friend of her father perhaps?

But when they reached the curb and he opened the door of a battered station wagon, her confusion gave way to uncertainty, concern, then full-bodied fear. She opened her mouth to protest but he thrust her inside, then climbed in beside her.

Panic gripped her so fiercely she couldn’t breathe or make her legs work. The sensation of spiders crawling over her skin made her scratch at her arms. But that was nothing compared to the wave of dizziness that rose inside when she glanced over her shoulder and saw two suitcases on the backseat of the man’s car.

You have to be careful, Ashley. Her mother’s constant refrain accompanied the warning bells that were filling her brain.

She hadn’t been careful. Now she was being kidnapped.

“Stop!”

But he didn’t stop, and before she could scramble out of the car he’d already shifted into gear and roared past the church, past the apple blossom tree where she’d always found sanctuary.

“Let me out,” she whispered, pressing herself against the door. Her throat was so dry so could hardly speak. “Please let me out.”

He didn’t seem to hear her. His attention was on his rearview mirror, his foot heavy on the gas pedal. He was moving too fast for her to jump out of the car.

They neared the center of town. Surely someone would notice that Ashley Adams was in a strange man’s car?

But the stores were closing, the streets almost deserted. Only the coffee shop still shone its bright neon lights onto the street, welcoming people into its cozy interior.

“Let me go!” she pleaded. “I’m supposed to be at home now.”

He ignored her. Perhaps he knew that her parents were too busy with their divorce plans to notice she hadn’t been home all afternoon. Maybe that’s why he’d taken her—maybe people could take one look at her and know that she was going to be like the kids in school she’d always felt sorry for.

As the car whizzed over the road Ashley tried to pray, struggled to think about God and those loving arms Mrs. Masters always talked about. But she couldn’t feel them. All she felt was alone and very scared.

The man hunched over the wheel, his face set in a forbidding angry mask. Every so often he’d glance in his rearview mirror. Then his lips pinched together and his fingers squeezed the wheel so tightly they turned pasty-white. Anger emanated from him like smoke from a fire ready to ignite.

She had to get out of this car!

They approached the only traffic light in town, a yellow light which quickly turned red. It was now or maybe never. Ashley slid her fingers around the door handle and prepared herself. When he jerked to a stop she yanked the door open, hurled out of the vehicle and raced across the street to Mrs. Masters’s coffee shop.

“Hey! Wait. I’ll take you home,” the man yelled after her.

Fat chance!

Ashley didn’t look back nor did she stop running until she reached the coffee-shop door. Using both hands she dragged it open, burst into the pungent warmth that surrounded her as she drew deep gasping breaths into her lungs. She glanced from face to face, searching for an ally.

There were two customers at the counter. Mrs. Masters was laughing with them, but she stopped when Ashley locked the café door. By the time her sobs gurgled out, her Sunday school teacher was there, holding her.

“What’s the matter, honey?”

“A man.” Ashley clung to her capable hands as if to anchor herself. “A man tried to take me away. In his car.”

“What man?” Mrs. Masters peered through the coffee-shop windows, shook her head. “I don’t see anyone.”

“He was there. I was at the apple tree by the ch-church and he grabbed me. He was trying to k-kidnap me.” She was shaking and didn’t know how to stop.

As if through a fog she heard Mrs. Masters speaking, felt herself being pushed down onto a chair. Someone pressed her hands around a cup. It warmed her icy fingers so she clung to it while people came and went.

“She said a man took her.” She felt their stares and looked away, locking her gaze on the table, the chair, anything but the street in front. A while later her father came and took her home. To the home she wasn’t going to have anymore.

That night the dreams started: nightmares so real Ashley could feel those bony fingers pressing into her skin, hear the gravel rattling beneath her feet as he pulled her across it, feel the biting odor of freshly cut spruce sting her nostrils and the hard metal pressure of the window handle against her back when she crouched in the car and waited for a chance to escape.

And every time she’d wake up, shaking, crying, knowing that some time, someday, somewhere he’d come back.

And that when he did, she wouldn’t be able to leave.

Chapter One

Ashley shoved open the door of her Vancouver condo with her crutch and hobbled inside, absorbing the stale odor of a place too long uninhabited. She let the door swing closed behind her, made sure it was locked, then concentrated on inhaling deep breaths.

She was home. She was safe.

The mail sat neatly stacked on a side table, thanks to her landlord. But Ashley ignored it, coaxing her body to move a little farther into the room.

All she really wanted was to run. Which was sad when she’d spent so much time and effort dealing with her panic attacks, making this her safe haven. The accident with Kent had only proven what she already knew—there was no safe place. As if to emphasize that point, the fear that had assailed her in the elevator a few moments ago now ballooned and wouldn’t let go.

The phone rang.

“Ash?” Piper’s familiar voice soothed her fractured nerves. “I thought you’d be coming home today. How are you feeling?”

“Battered and bruised, Pip. My ankle’s weak so I’m on crutches for a couple of days. But I’m okay.” Would she ever be okay again?

“And Kent?”

“Walked away without a scratch. It was my side of the sportscar that was hit.” She debated whether to explain, then decided there was no point in pretending. “He kept going faster, though I begged him to stop. He told me he could handle it, that he knew what he was doing with such a powerful car. He lied about that. He lied about everything.”

“Oh, Ashley. I’m so sorry.”

She couldn’t handle the rush of sympathy. Not now. Not today.

“I’m not,” she said steeling herself against the pain she knew would follow the words. “It wasn’t me he really wanted. It was the money. It’s better it happened now, before we’re married, than finding out two years down the road.”

“Yes, it is,” Piper agreed quietly. “When do you go back to work?”

“I don’t. Ferris let me go when I had to cancel out of the exhibition.”

“The rat! You couldn’t help the accident.”

“I should never have believed Kent when he said he knew how to drive a race car. He admitted at the hospital that he’d never even been inside one before.”

“Yes, but—”

“Ferris was in a tight spot with the gallery expansion and he was depending on me to help. Being in the hospital because I was stupid and let myself get talked into something isn’t an excuse.”

“I suppose Kent left the bill for that car for you to pay, too, didn’t he?” Piper waited a second then groaned. “Oh, Ash. The greedy—”

“Believe me, it was a cheap escape. Anyway I don’t want to talk about him, Pip. I’m tired.” Ashley leaned against the wall, rubbed the throbbing spot at the side of her head. “I guess I need to rest.”

“Then as soon as you feel up to it, you should come here. The autumn colors are always gorgeous around the Bay.” Piper’s voice changed, softened. “Cathcart House is made for visitors. You know that. Think of it—you could sleep in every morning, take long walks when you’re better, think about your next move. You could even help me plan my wedding. Or you can just relax if you want. Please say you’ll come.”

Piper sounded so happy, so at peace with her world. Ashley swallowed a tinge of envy.

“I should really be looking for a job, Pip.”

“Don’t tell me you’ve emptied your grandfather’s trust account already? You were supposed to be recuperating in that hospital, not buying stuff online.”

Piper and Rowena were the only two people Ashley would allow to tease about her recent inheritance. Piper’s taunt brought back happy memories of other times they’d shared in Serenity Bay.

“You’re awfully quiet, Ash. You’d better fess up. Just how many pairs of shoes can one woman buy?” Piper demanded.

“Since you’re the queen of shoes, you tell me.” Ashley glanced down at the scuffed and dirty sneakers she’d worn home from the hospital. Looked like she’d have to go shopping. She wanted no lingering memories—of Kent or the accident.

“Ash?”

“I’m here,” she murmured. “Just thinking.”

“Why not come visit me?” Piper pushed.

Ashley could picture exactly how Serenity Bay would look. The water always seemed darker, deeper in autumn. The sky switched to a richer shade of cerulean. The hills cloaked their rolling sides in the finest burnt orange, fiery red and forest green.

And the people—she doubted many of them would know about her broken engagement, even though Serenity Bay was so small everybody knew everyone else’s business.

“Rowena’s coming down for the Labor Day long weekend,” Piper wheedled. “We’d have a chance to reconnect.”

The last weekend of summer. It was too tempting.

“Okay I’ll come,” Ashley agreed. “But just for a few weeks. I want to work, Pip. I don’t want to be one of the idle rich.”

The snort of disbelief carried clearly down the line.

“Like that would happen, Ms. ‘Frenetic Pace’ Adams. When can I expect you?”

Ashley glanced around. There was nothing to hold her here.

“A week—no, two. The doctor said I’ll need a few days for my ankle to strengthen. It will take me about five days to drive there. Say…two weeks from today?” she suggested.

“Yes!” Piper cheered. “I can hardly wait.”

“Listen, I know you’re busy. I don’t want to interfere with your work there, or get in your way.”

“You won’t. The busiest part of the summer is over. It went better than we could have imagined. Now if I could just get my winter plans to work.”

“Winter plans?” Ashley yawned, suddenly tired.

“You’re exhausted. I can tell.” Piper chuckled. “Never mind my brilliant ideas. I’ll tell you all about it when you get here. Go rest, Ash. Dream of all the things we’ll do together once you get here.”

“Yes. It’ll be great.” But she didn’t hang up. Instead Ashley clung to the phone, needing to share what lay so heavily on her heart. “What’s wrong with me, Pip?” she finally whispered.

“Absolutely nothing,” her friend stoutly insisted. “You just made a mistake.”

“Two of them. I thought I knew Parker. And yet I had no idea that he was in love with someone else.”

“He should have said something earlier.” Piper’s voice wasn’t forgiving.

“I should have listened better.”

“Does it matter now? Your engagement to Parker only lasted a couple of days before you learned the truth and corrected things. It’s not your fault. He wasn’t honest about his feelings for someone else.”

“Maybe. But what about Kent? I thought I could trust him. I thought he was everything I wanted in a husband.” She hated saying it out loud. It sounded so silly, but why deny the truth when Piper knew it anyway. “All he wanted was my money, Pip.”

“I’m sure that isn’t so. But even if it is, he’s gone now. You’re starting over.”

“Yes.” She chewed her bottom lip. “Don’t tell anyone, okay, Piper?”

“About the engagements?” Piper’s soothing tones did wonders for Ashley. “Of course not. No one will care anyway. One look at you and the men will be knocking down my door.”

“I doubt that.” She chewed her bottom lip for a moment, then admitted what was really on her mind. “I suppose people know about my grandfather’s oil money but I hope nobody asks about it.”

“I can almost guarantee that someone will. After all, your dad lived here till he died. Some of the old folks will remember him, and you. What’s wrong with that?”

“Nothing if that’s all it is. But sometimes when people find out about it they change, ask me to do things, insist I help them. It can be rather scary.” She felt silly admitting that but it was the truth. “Last week a woman who said she knew my grandfather came into the gallery and asked me to pay for her son’s rehab. I was lucky Ferris came back from lunch early but even then he had to call the police to make her leave. I’ve been on tenterhooks ever since, hoping she won’t accost me on the street.”

“I’m sure no one here will do that. Mostly I’ve found that people here are as friendly as you are. Just like when we were kids. The only thing is I’ve already told Jason about Kent and all the rest,” Piper soothed. Her soft voice brimmed with happiness. “We don’t have any secrets.”

“Jason’s okay. You trust him, so I do, too.”

“Yeah, I do trust him. Totally. Which is why I can hardly wait to marry the man.”

“I’m happy for you, Pip.”

They discussed how long it would take to drive from Vancouver to the cottage country two hours north of Toronto.

“It’s an awfully long drive to make alone, Ash.”

“It’s the only way. I can’t fly. Last time was horrible.”

Piper sighed. “I was hoping you were getting over those panic attacks.”

“Some days I think I am. Then something happens and it starts all over again.”

“That’s an even better reason to come to the Bay. You know you’re safe here.”

Not quite true, but Ashley wasn’t going to get into it. She promised to call Piper every night she was on the road, then hung up. Because her ankle ached she sank onto the sofa she’d bought with her first paycheck, the one Kent hated so much—the one she loved because to her the pale-blue suede said home. She gazed at her watercolor of Serenity Bay.

Would she be safe there?

She was older now, had learned how to take precautions. Therapy had helped her deal with the panic attacks. But most importantly, he wasn’t there anymore. She’d been back to the Bay several times and never once had she seen the man who’d grabbed her that spring afternoon so long ago.

Thinking about him made her anxious, so Ashley closed her eyes and let daydreams of happier times take over—until the familiar nightmare cut in. Then she rose and changed into her nightgown. From the vial in her purse she took out one of the sedatives that would guarantee a deep, dreamless sleep and swallowed it.

Snuggled into bed, she refocused on Serenity Bay and the good times she’d once found on its shores.

Michael Masters gazed at the cherubic face of his sleeping daughter. Tatiana was so small, yet she held his heart in that grubby little fist.

He touched a fingertip to the cloud of hair as dark as his own, felt the silken texture of one fat curl wrap against his skin. He’d never imagined he would experience weak knees and palpitations all because of one four-year-old girl.

Lest he disturb her afternoon nap, he tiptoed from the room, monitor in hand. If she made a squeak he’d be back in here in three seconds. But he hoped she’d nap for an hour, long enough that he could get some work done.

His studio, if you could call it that, was at the back of the house, far from her room. It was an addition roughly thrown together, a place to work in his spare time.

Spare time. Ha! A joke. There was never any spare time, not since Tati had whirled into his life.

Michael stepped inside the room, breathed in. Pine, spruce, cedar—they mingled together into a woodsy blend that made his fingertips itch to get to work. Once he’d checked the volume on the monitor, he set it on his work table, picked up the oak piece he’d begun two weeks ago and grabbed a chisel. In his mind he visualized what he wanted to create, then set about releasing the face from the wood, bit by hardened bit.

He was almost finished the left side when it dawned on him that he’d heard nothing from Tatiana’s room. He glanced at his watch, blinked.

Two hours? Tati had never slept that long in all the time she’d been with him, no matter how he tired her out.

He set down his chisel, touched the wood with one scarred thumb, then placed the carving on the table, too. As he made his way quietly through the house he chastised himself for not being a better father. Maybe Serenity Bay wasn’t the best place for his daughter to grow up. Sure, his mom was here and she’d gladly offered all the mothering one small grandchild could want, but Serenity Bay was the back of nowhere. There was no ballet school or children’s theater here. Maybe Tati was missing out on something.

He pushed open the door of her room, ready to tease her awake.

His heart dropped like a stone.

The bed was empty.

He scanned the room, noticed her shoes were missing, as well as her doll. The window was pushed up, curtains fluttering in the warm autumn air. Surely she hadn’t gone outside by herself?

Oh, Lord, keep her safe.

He raced through the house, then outside around the back to the window of her room. Tiny footprints had rearranged the flowers he’d so painstakingly planted last spring, but Michael didn’t care about that.

“Tati?”

His heart hit overdrive as he pushed through the woods, found her hair band on the other side of the bridge. Thanks to a dry summer the creek down here wasn’t much more than a trickle, but farther up… He raced along the trail until he came to the old stone church he worshipped in every Sunday.

Where was she?

He stood for a moment, eyes narrowed, assessing the view. Finally his heart gave a bump of relief when he spotted the familiar dark curls beneath the apple tree. She had her doll with her, the one her mother had given her. A red wagon, the one Tati dragged everywhere she went, was turned upside down, forming a stool for her bottom.

Anxious not to scare her, he fought to control his breathing as he listened to her discussion with the beautiful bride doll she never let out of her sight.