A tiny shudder passed through Rachel. “It was hard for me not having you there too. A bride and groom should be s-surrounded and supported by the people who love them.”
The tear brimming on Marie’s lower lash spilled over. “Oh, honey, I’ll always be sorry you didn’t have the big wedding you used to dream about, with the beautiful white lace gown and flowers and music, and all our friends and family there to witness the happy event.”
Greg’s gut clenched.
The simple ceremony he and Rachel had shared had been nothing like the beautiful wedding her mother had described.
There’d been no lace gown.
No music.
No family or friends in attendance.
No flowers to speak of, other than a tiny nosegay he’d picked up en route to the ceremony in a parson’s parlor, where the man’s wife and son had acted as witnesses.
Apparently he’d robbed Rachel of her dream wedding as well as her relationship with her parents.
The knot in his stomach tightened.
One more regret to add to a growing list.
The squeeze Rachel gave his fingers somehow penetrated his shroud of misery, and he looked over.
She didn’t utter a single syllable, but he heard her message loud and clear as they locked gazes.
I love you, Greg. None of those trappings mattered to me because I had you.
The room blurred, and pressure built in his throat.
Sweet heaven, how he loved this woman!
Blinking to clear his vision, he folded his other hand around their entwined fingers and rejoined the conversation.
“I wish we could all go back and change history, but the best we can do is make our peace with the past and move forward. I know both of us want the two of you to be part of our lives again. I’d like to get to know you better, and Rachel would love to have her parents back.”
“We were hoping you’d say that.” John swiped the sleeve of his sweater across his eyes, his own voice none too steady. “We booked a room for four nights at the Seabird Inn B & B here in town. We don’t expect you to change your schedules for us, but we’re available whenever you are.”
“You’re welcome to stay here.” Greg didn’t know where, exactly . . . but it seemed the hospitable thing to suggest.
“No.” Marie shook her head. “We wouldn’t think of intruding, especially since we came without any warning. And the Seabird Inn is charming.”
“You’ll stay for dinner, though . . . won’t you?” Rachel’s invitation was sincere—but it was underscored by a trace of worry.
Not surprising.
Throwing together a decent meal for four people at the last minute would be a challenge, based on what he could recall of the provisions in the kitchen.
And Rachel would want to do this right.
They also needed to talk before they spent an extended stretch with her parents, make certain they were on the same page about how much they wanted to share.
Thankfully, her mother had the wisdom to decline. “Do you think we could have a rain check and come tomorrow? It was a bumpy flight, with a long drive down from Portland on top of a time change. We’re kind of wiped out. We’ve also disrupted your life enough for one day.”
Rachel’s relief was almost palpable—to him, anyway.
“That would be fine. I have a job at the local newspaper, but I’m sure my boss will let me off early.”
“We don’t want to cause problems,” John chimed in. “Asking off in a new job might be frowned upon.”
“I only work part-time, and my boss is understanding. It won’t be an issue.” Rachel tightened her grip on Greg’s hand and shot him an uncertain look.
He hesitated—but her parents would soon find out he wasn’t employed. No reason to hide it. “My schedule is open. I’m still recovering.”
“Rachel told us you’d suffered an injury.” Marie’s tone was cautious. “I hope you’re improving.”
How to respond?
Her parents must have noticed his limp—but for whatever reason, Rachel hadn’t told them about his leg. Would she mind if he did?
He glanced at her, and she gave a small nod of assent.
“I’m making progress—but the injury itself is permanent.” He braced himself for their reaction. “I lost my leg below the knee in an IED explosion.”
Shock ricocheted across her parents’ faces, and her mother’s hand flew to her chest.
“We had no idea it was anything that traumatic. I’m so sorry.” Marie transferred her attention to her daughter. “Why didn’t you tell us? You two didn’t have to go through that alone.”
Greg would have answered for Rachel if he could, but her reasons for withholding that information eluded him too.
“There wasn’t anything you could have done.” Rachel picked at a piece of lint on her slacks.
“We could have sat with you. Offered moral support. Done whatever routine chores needed to be done.”
“Don’t worry about it, Mom. We got through it. But we’re glad you came out now.” She slid her hand from his and stood. “I’ve got cheese and crackers—and some fresh fruit. Let me put together a snack for us.”
“Would you like some help?” Greg prepared to lever himself to his feet.
“No. I’ve got it.” Rachel backed away. “You three go ahead and visit for a few minutes.” She fled to the kitchen.
Much as he wanted to follow her, Greg resisted the temptation. It was possible she needed a few minutes alone to regroup.
This evening, however, he’d have her all to himself—and he intended to keep his promise to talk through their situation.
No matter the outcome.
What a remarkable day.
Rachel pulled the towel off her hair and blotted her wet locks in the steamy bathroom.
Greg’s suggestion that she take a long shower after her parents left had been spot-on. The relaxing, hot spray had been just what she needed to soothe her taut muscles, clear her mind, and lift her spirits.
How incredible was it that her parents had journeyed all the way from Texas to say they were sorry and try to mend the relationship?
And how wonderful to
