The Accidental Bride (6 page)

Someday.

The light turned green. Green meant go. Go directly to the courthouse and pledge his life to Shay. He applied the gas, and they advanced one block at a time through Cody, his breath feeling stuffed and hot inside his lungs.

When he reached the building, he drew up to a meter. Eighteen minutes.

Shay took his hand in hers and he squeezed, trying for a smile.

She stretched out her fingers, laying them flat against his, palm to palm. “We never got rings.”

They'd meant to, but everything had moved so quickly once they'd arrived in Cody. He looked at her hand, small and delicate against his. She deserved a ring, for pity's sake. It was her wedding day.

“I'm going to get you a ring,” he said, sure once the words were out.

“Someday . . .”

“No, now.”

“What? Our appointment is in seventeen minutes. We won't be able to get another if we miss it.”

He needed to get away anyhow. Take a deep breath, gather himself so he could be fully present and accounted for when they exchanged vows, not in some fog of disbelief.

“You can go on in and let them know we're here, just in case I'm a few minutes late. Shouldn't take long. We passed a Kmart on the way.” He cringed a little. Shay deserved a wedding ring from the finest jeweler.

“You sure?”

“Positive. Have to hurry, though.” He started up the truck again. Just the rumbling engine made him feel better somehow.

“Wait. Let's do this first.” Shay laid the license on his leg. “Get all the legal, unromantic stuff outta the way.”

Maybe she sensed his nerves. Or maybe she just wanted to keep this unfairytale wedding as romantic as she could. He was sure no girl dreamed of a courthouse wedding.

Shay signed the document and handed him the pen. He scrawled his name, more eager to pull away from the curb than he could say.

Shay gave him a peck on the lips. “Hurry back, now.” She gave a cute little wave from the concrete steps as he put the truck in gear and gave it some gas.

All right, McCoy, come on. Pull it together
.

This wasn't like him. He didn't ruffle easily. But then, he'd never run away to elope at eighteen either. It seemed like such a fine idea three months ago, right before graduation, when the subject came up. He couldn't remember which of them voiced it first. All he'd been thinking at the time was how beautiful she was with the light shining off her mahogany hair, how lucky he was to be in love with his best friend. How she made his engine hum whenever she was near.

He hadn't been thinking about the fact that Shay was tied to Moose Creek tighter'n paint on a barn. Or about how he'd never compete in the PRCA or own a spread in Texas like he'd dreamed of since he was a boy. Shay would never leave her family in a bind with the ranch, with her mom nearly bedridden. She'd always been loyal. It was one of the things he loved about her.

He'd stuffed his own disappointment, figured he'd get over it eventually. Settle in a little apartment somewhere near town and start saving some money.

Travis tightened his hands on the steering wheel. He did love Shay, did want to spend the rest of his life with her. But he wanted Texas too. Wanted the rodeo life and a chance to put his skills to the test. His friend Seth had moved there straight out of high school, was making his dream come true.

He'd called just the day before. “Loving it down here, man. Got a rodeo coming up end of the month. You'd have a better shot at winning it than me, but you'll be an old married man by then. Don't know what you're missing.”

Only Travis did know. It was sinking in now like water into fresh soil. His breaths dried his throat, struggled to keep pace with his racing heart. Was this what a panic attack felt like?

Come on, McCoy. Cowboy up
. He took four deep breaths.

Kmart was just ahead, a sprawling, dingy building with a cracked sign in the empty parking lot.

“Sure you know what you're doing, pal?” Seth had asked.

“I'm sure.” And he was sure, when he was holding Shay in his arms by the creek, her back curled into his chest, his arms tight around her.

But when he was lying in bed at night, imagining the future, the existence they'd eke out one day at a time, he faltered. His parents were well off, but he was determined to make it on his own. He hadn't drawn an allowance since he was thirteen, when he'd gotten his first job as an extra hand on the O'Neil ranch, and he sure wasn't going to start accepting handouts now.

He worked for his dad now, a fair wage, but hardly enough to support a family. And Shay's family couldn't pay her a decent wage.

He looked around and realized he'd just passed the Kmart entrance. He'd have to turn around at the next intersection. Turn around. Go back to their Kmart future. Turn away from Texas and everything he'd dreamed of.

When he reached the intersection, he saw a No U-turn sign. The light turned green, and he continued ahead. A sign for the upcoming highway caught his eye: State Route 120 Casper.

He was already in the left lane. His truck seemed to take the route of its own volition. He was on Route 120, headed south toward Casper. South toward Texas.

His heart rate dropped and his fingers relaxed on the steering wheel. His breathing slowed, the knot in his stomach loosened. He felt better already, just pointing the truck in a different direction.

Pointing his life in a different direction. A giddy feeling welled up inside him at the thought of all that lay ahead. But it was immediately choked out by thoughts of Shay.

Shay, waiting for him at the courthouse. He had to call her. How could he explain this drastic change? But it wasn't drastic really, was it? He'd been waffling since the moment they'd dreamed up this plan.

She had to know he was struggling. Hadn't he tried to talk to her about this weeks ago? Hadn't she asked him a dozen times if he was sure? Hadn't she asked him just this morning?

And you said you were
.

He stuffed the thought back down. He'd made the decision, and it felt right. Felt freeing. A marriage couldn't be God's will for them, not right now. They didn't even have their parents' blessings. That wasn't honoring, was it?

Now he just had to break it to Shay.

He'd stop at the next pay phone, call the courthouse. He'd tell Shay he loved her, that this wasn't about her at all. That they were too young. They could get married later, after he'd had a chance to chase his dreams.

He scanned the roadside and saw a phone booth outside a convenience store. He pulled in and entered the booth, racking his brain for the right words. He didn't want to hurt Shay, but no matter what he said, that was unavoidable.

The number was in the government section. He deposited some coins and placed the call. The receptionist picked up on the fifth ring.

“Uh, yes, I have an appointment for—” He checked his watch. “Well, right now. I need to talk to Shay Monroe. She should be there in your office.”

“She checked in a few minutes ago, but she went outside to wait for her fiancé.”

“I'm her fiancé. There's been a—uh, change of plans. Can you get her, please?”

“I'm sorry, sir, I can't leave my office.”

“Please, I have to tell her I'm not coming.”

A second line rang. “Hold, please.”

“No, wait—” But the line clicked and she was gone.

Blast it! He hated the thought of Shay waiting outside for him, watching every car as it turned the corner. Had she sensed his agitation? Surely she had. He twisted the cold metal cord around his hand.

“Hello?” the woman said.

“Yes, I'm here.”

Another line pealed in the background. “I'm afraid I can't leave my desk. We're quite busy.”

“Please. It won't take but a few minutes, and I have to tell her—”

“Sir. When the phone stops ringing, I'll run out and get her, but I don't know when that will be. Call back in fifteen or twenty minutes, and I'll see that she's here.”

It was the best he was going to get. “Thank you.”

He hung up the phone. He should put the truck back on the highway headed north and handle this face-to-face like a man. He knew it was the right thing to do.

But if he went back, he knew he wouldn't have the nerve to leave again. Even now he felt pulled, like he needed more distance between them to think with his head and not his heart.

He'd keep heading south, just for fifteen minutes, then he'd pull off and call back. He ripped the number from the phone book, stuffed it in his pocket, and exited the booth, the accordion door creaking with neglect.

He started the truck and got back on the highway, his mind whirling. How would Shay react? She'd be spittin' mad, that was for sure. If he were there, she'd shove him, her eyes shooting fire. She'd rail on him; then, after a while, her face would start to crumple and he'd try to hold her. She'd push him away at first, then she'd fall apart and sob in his arms.

He had to stop this. Had to start thinking of what to say. How to put words to his thoughts.

Ten minutes later he had his monologue memorized. He was half wondering if she'd hang up on him when his truck made a noise. A half mile later he began losing speed. The truck sputtered, and that's when he remembered. Gas!

He'd meant to get it on the way to the courthouse, but he'd been so lost in his own misery, he'd forgotten. Stupid!

He pulled the truck onto the emergency lane and turned the key, looking around. He'd left town miles ago, maybe six or seven?

He got out and started jogging back toward Cody. By the time he reached a gas station, his shirt was wet with sweat, but the only thing he cared about was reaching Shay. He approached the phone, bolted to the side of the building, and placed the call.

How long had it been? An hour and a half. He wiped the sweat from his forehead while the phone rang.

When the woman answered, he identified himself.

“I'm sorry, sir, your fiancée left a little while ago.”

“What do you mean she left? What did you say?”

“Sir, I don't care for your tone.”

Travis rubbed his face. “I'm sorry. I'm sorry. I'm just . . . upset.”

“She asked me what you'd said, and I told her you'd changed your mind and you weren't coming.”

Awww . . . blast it!
He ground his teeth together and kicked the concrete wall twice. Three times. Then he took a steadying breath. “What'd she say? Where'd she go?”

Another phone pealed in the background. “She was visibly upset. She waited awhile and then she left. I don't know where she went. I'm sorry, sir, but I have to go.”

“No, wait—” But the click sounded in his ear.

He holstered the phone in its cradle with enough force to break it. Then picked it up and did it three more times. She was probably on her way home by now. She would've called her folks to come after her. There was no way to reach her at the moment.

He bought a container, filled it with gas, and hitched a ride to his truck. Once it was running, he continued south, stopping to call Shay's house at every town he hit. Shay's dad finally picked up four hours later.

“You have some nerve, buddy.”

“Did Shay make it back?”

“No thanks to you.”

He begged to speak with her, but her dad said she wasn't there. He decided to keep trying. She'd pick up eventually, and then he could explain. But at every stop, every time he called, her dad picked up. The last time he'd gotten a blistering earful.

Travis kept driving, determined, now that he'd set his course, on crossing the Texas line before stopping. It was after midnight when he pulled into the first Texas motel he came across, La Siesta. It was a dimly lit U-shaped building with two cars in the lot. He opened the truck door, and when the interior light came on, he noticed something black on the passenger floor. He reached for it, his heart sinking.

Shay's purse.

He'd left her with no money, no identification, nothing! He groaned and drove his palm into the steering wheel. Idiot! But surely she'd had . . . Then he remembered her suitcase. She hadn't taken it out of the pickup bed—why would she? They were supposed to be married and driving home together.

He called himself every name in the book as he checked in, then lay awake half the night berating himself for his thoughtlessness. But even in the darkness of night, even while he regretted what he'd put Shay through, he didn't feel he'd made a mistake in calling off the wedding. The real mistake had been planning it in the first place.

It would be months until he realized that some mistakes could never be undone.

8

O
kay, spill,” Abigail said as soon as Beau lumbered away.

The two women were sitting on a blanket on the town square lawn. Darkness was falling, and the lamps along the street flickered on one by one.