A March Bride (11 page)

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Authors: Rachel Hauck

Tags: #Fiction, #Romance, #Contemporary, #Christian, #Short Stories (Single Author), #ebook

BOOK: A March Bride
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Now if only she still wanted him.

She didn

t seem the kind of woman to run out on her
commitments readily. But all bets were off when one was challenged right down to the core of her identity.


Nathaniel!

Avery dashed into the office and roped him in a big hug. No pretense. No inhibitions. Just love.

You

re here. I

m sooo excited. Mama, I found the dress in Granny

s things.


Good girl.

Glo dialed another number.

Did you drop it off at Morgan

s? Nathaniel, she

s not answering her phone—let me try her granny

s.


Yep, and they

re putting the bum

s rush on it.

Avery perched on the edge of the desk, her eyes bright.

Is Colin coming?

Ah yes, his young cousin. The prince who was stealing another Truitt girl

s heart.

He

s on his way with Mum and Stephen as we speak. We

re running out of royal aeroplanes. Susanna has
Royal One
. I flew on
Royal Two
with the accompanying staff. Mum, Stephen, and Colin along with Jonathan had to charter from a private carrier.

Avery twisted up her lips, snapping her fingers.

And to think, the rest of us have to fly coach.


All right, missy.

Glo poked her in the back, holding the phone receiver to her ear.

You have homework? If not, I could use an extra hand in here tonight. Sue Ellen called in sick. Hello, Marlee, Glo Truitt here. Susanna

s not around the shop, is she? Getting her hair done?

She listened with a grimace, then hung up.

Well, no one

s seen her since this afternoon. She visited her granny around noon. Then popped by Gracie

s a little after two and left there before three. She

s not at Gracie

s salon nor at the house—


Y

all looking for Suz?

Avery said, popping up from her perch on the edge of the desk.

Mama, I can

t stay. I

ve got a team meeting.

She tugged her phone from her rucksack.

Did y

all try to call her?


Did you just hear me say she

s not answering her phone?


Yeah, Mama, you have a different ring tone—Suz, hey, it

s me. Where are you?

Avery grinned at Nathaniel.

When are you coming home? I want to order a large cheese pizza from Sal

s.

Avery

s eyes widened with surprise.

You

re in Savannah? Waiting to take off for Brighton? You realize you love Nathaniel and want to go back to Brighton? Why am I repeating everything you say?

Avery shot Nathaniel a visual plea.
What do I do?

He motioned for her to keep talking as he retrieved his phone and dialed
Royal One

s satellite phone.


So,

she said, elevating her tone with a bit of merriment.

I bet Nathaniel is excited you

re coming back. What? Right, right, you want to surprise him. Cool, way cool.

She made a face, shrugging at Nathaniel.

Well, I

m sorry you won

t be home for pizza. But hey, the only thing that trumps hot cheese pizza is true love, right?

Ha-ha.

Okay, I

ll tell Mama you

ve left. We

ll see you in a couple of weeks.


Here, let me talk to her.

Glo took the phone from Avery, whispering to Nathaniel,

If she

s fixing to take off . . . you best hurry and do whatever it is you can do to stop that plane. Mercy, I sound like I

m in a movie or something.

Nathaniel was on it, his chest buzzing with untethered emotions, aware of the ramifications. Her plan was ruining his.

But Susanna was returning to Brighton. Of her own
accord. He smiled, then stepped out of the office, through the kitchen, and onto the back deck.

Fabian Rainwater, a former pilot for the RAF before joining the king

s service, answered the sat phone.


Fabian?


Your Majesty, is everything all right?


Listen, please don

t react if Susanna is in hearing range. But do not take off.


I

m in the cockpit now. What reason shall I give her? We

re wheels up at eight o

clock.


I

m here. On St. Simons Island to surprise her.


I see. Under the radar, I imagine.


Very much so.


It

s not easy being a king in moments like these, is it?

A soft, humorous lilt bent his words.

What reason shall I give her for the delay?


You

re the pilot, Fabian. Make something up.


Mechanical?


Perfect. But one that cannot be solved easily. No waiting round in Savannah overnight. She must return to the island.


Will do, sir.


Fabian, you must come along as well. And your copilot.


For any special reason?


Indeed. A very special reason.

Nathaniel rang off and tucked his phone in his jeans pocket, his stomach rumbling for the tangy taste of barbecue, his heart churning for her love.

S
usanna thumped her suitcase back up the back deck of the Rib Shack, exhausted and disheartened and discombobulated, the ordeal of the past few days weighing on her.

The citizenship writ in Brighton. Her decision to come home. The lack of communication with Nathaniel. Her morning conversation with Mama. Her encounter with Reverend Smith at Christ Church.

Her subsequent decision to return to Brighton.

Visiting with Granny one last time before flying home. She was comforted by the light in Granny

s eyes and the color on her cheeks.

A final stop by Gracie

s.

Scurrying home to pack and get down to Savannah, meet up with the pilot, and wait for wheels up.

The disappointing news that the plane had mechanical problems.

Hiring a car to return to St. Simons with the pilots, Fabian and Roark.

She had spent the car ride with her forehead pressed to the dark window, hiding her tears.

See, this was exactly why she
planned
things. She wore spontaneity like a wet sack. Thin and falling apart. She should

ve never left Brighton. Now it seemed as if she

d hit a brick wall on returning.

Lord, please, tell Nathaniel I love him.

She

d tried to call—forget surprising him—but his phone went straight to voice mail. So instead she rang Rollins and asked him to arrange for a car to meet her at the Brighton airport.

Then Susanna instructed her lady

s maid, Ansley, to make sure the emerald green Alexander McQueen party dress was ready to go. She would surprise Nathaniel at dinner.

But not tomorrow night after all. Darn plane.


Well.

Mama stepped onto the deck, a dish towel in her hands.

Just where have you been?


Believe it or not, trying to get back to Brighton.

Mama snapped the air with her towel, tipped back her head, and raised her hand toward heaven.

Thank You, Lord. Finally.


I

m not in the mood, Mama.

Susanna kicked her suitcase against the deck rail to let a young family pass.

Mama hollered toward the kitchen door.

Bristol, you got customers on the deck.

She joined Susanna at a table.

So, you were heading home?

Home? Brighton
was
home, wasn

t it?

I wanted to surprise Nathaniel.


What happened?

Mama ran her strong, soft hand over Susanna

s hair, brushing it away from her neck. Her unexpected tenderness brought Susanna

s tears to the surface.

What made you decide to go back?


I prayed a prayer.

Susanna recapped her conversation with Reverend Smith, leaving out the part where she cried over her childhood. Mama didn

t need piled-on guilt.


So why aren

t you winging it toward Brighton?


Mechanical problem. The part won

t arrive until Friday.


It

s going to be all right, Susanna.


You don

t know that, Mama.

She vaulted off the picnic table bench.

The more I think about it . . . the longer I

m away from Nathaniel, he

s not going to want me back. What kind of woman slips off her engagement ring because the life of her intended comes with certain requirements? I mean, if he was the head of Apple and I was a peon at Microsoft, I wouldn

t think twice about resigning.


But he

s not asking you to quit your job, Suz. Like you said, he

s asking you to give up your very identity. You

d no longer be an American citizen with all of our family

s heritage and tradition. You

re moving a long way from the poor Irish farmers who came to this country looking for a better way of life.


Wait, now you

re saying I did the right thing by leaving?


No, I

m saying I understand why you panicked. You were right to take time to think about it. Did you overreact? A bit, but you

ve made a lot of very big changes in the last year and a half.

Mama flicked the towel at Susanna

s legs.

I

m proud of you.


I

m not so proud of myself, but—


Susanna!

She whirled around to see Aurora emerging from the pines and palmettos that lined the path to the beach.

What in the world?

Aurora called out.

You

re not supposed to be here.

The woman scurried up the deck steps wearing a mismatched outfit of a summer dress over jeans with an oversized men

s sweater that might have been the style in the 1950s.


Came home to think.

Aurora, with her white-blonde hair and bright red fingernails, circled the picnic bench where Mama sat and glared at Susanna through narrowed eyes.

Her testimony was a simple one-line pitch.

I went crazy and returned to my right mind, and to my God.


Listen to me.

Susanna flinched as Aurora jumped up on the bench, startling Mama.

You belong in a palace.

She fired her hand in the air, pointing east, toward the Atlantic and Brighton

s shores.

You don

t know, Susanna. You don

t know . . .

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