Three Brides, No Groom

“How well do you know Didi Wilson?” she asked. She’d often seen Didi with Josh. She knew it was none of her concern. Nevertheless she needed to know.

His gaze narrowed, and his steps slowed. “How much did Didi tell you about her and Roger?”

She frowned, her hand still in his. “Just that…that she was at the fraternity party with him.”

Josh’s fingers tightened around hers.

“I don’t hate Didi,” she said, although it was difficult to regard the other woman with kindness. In many ways Didi had done her a favor, though it was difficult to think of it in those terms at that moment.

Josh heaved a deep sigh, and his hand tightened around hers. “Didi’s pregnant.”

“How can she know so soon?” Gretchen asked indignantly, and then it hit her. Hard. Square between the eyes. Roger hadn’t been with Didi Wilson just that one time but several. She closed her eyes and swayed with both shock and anger.

“How long have they been lovers?” she demanded. When he hesitated, she asked again, steeling herself for the answer. “Tell me, Josh. I have a right to know.”

“Six months, maybe more.”

She grimaced and clenched her free hand into a fist at her side. The entire time she’d been engaged to Roger, he’d been physically involved with Didi. It was enough to make her ill. She recalled all those afternoons he’d been late to meet her. It got to be a big joke between them. All the nights when he’d claimed he was studying. She should have known, should have realized. What about her friends? Her face burned with the realization that others must have known and yet no one had bothered to tell her.

As if reading her thoughts, Josh said, “Roger kept it quiet. I doubt anyone else knew.”

“You did,” she said.

“Didi’s my friend.”

But she noted he didn’t say how good a friend the woman was.

“Does Roger know about the baby?” she asked, once she found her voice.

“No.” Josh shook his head.

“Is Didi going to tell him?”

Again Josh paused. “I don’t know. That decision is hers.”

She studied him, and wondered if he had been Didi’s lover, too. If so, she didn’t want to know about it.

His grip on her hand relaxed. “Come on, you look like you could use a cup of coffee.” He led her to a café on the main street and held the door for her. Although it was still early, the place was busy. With a majority of the tables occupied, Josh opted to sit at the counter. Once they were settled, he handed Gretchen a menu.

The harried waitress cast them an apologetic smile as she raced by, her arms loaded down with plates. “I’ll be with you folks as soon as I can.”

“We’re in no hurry,” Josh assured her.

The woman returned a few minutes later with the coffeepot. “The other waitress called in sick at the last minute, along with the dishwasher. Mighty convenient case of the flu, if you ask me,” she said as she filled their cups.

The cook slapped the bell and set two more plates on the shelf. The waitress glanced over her shoulder and grumbled under her breath. “I’ll be back to take your order in a minute. I don’t want those breakfasts to get cold.”

“No problem,” Gretchen said.

Josh helped himself to a couple of doughnuts from a plate beneath a plastic dome. He handed one to Gretchen.

As the waitress moved past, Josh said to her, “Listen, if you’re shorthanded, I can wash dishes.”

The waitress hesitated.

“All I want in exchange is a decent breakfast for me and my friend.”

“Harry,” the waitress called into the kitchen. “We got ourselves a volunteer. The guy claims he can wash dishes.” She looked at Gretchen. “What about you, honey? Did you ever wait tables?”

Gretchen could see that Josh was about to answer for her. “Sure,” she said quickly, although it was a bald-faced lie. She brushed the doughnut crumbs from her hands and slipped off the stool.

“There’s an apron and an order pad behind the counter.”

“Great,” Gretchen said. She wasn’t at all sure she would be able to pull it off, but she was willing to try. She tossed Josh a saucy grin as she tied the apron around her waist. Then he disappeared into the kitchen.

“If you’d do the coffee refills, I’d appreciate it,” the waitress said, swishing past her. “Those tables need to be cleaned, too.” She pointed at two that had just emptied. “By the way, my name’s Marge.”

“I’m Gretchen.” She reached for the glass coffeepot. It didn’t demand a lot of skill to refill coffee cups around the room. Once she’d finished that, she found a large square tub and hauled it over to the vacated tables, then dumped the dirty dishes inside. After she wiped the surface clean and handed Marge her tip money, she turned to discover the tables had already filled up with new customers.

By the time the breakfast crowd had thinned out, it was midmorning. Gretchen sat down and counted her tips. She had collected close to twenty bucks.

“Sure do appreciate the help,” Marge said, sitting down next to her at the counter.

“Glad I could do it.”

Josh appeared from the kitchen, drying his hands on a dish towel.

“I’m so hungry I could eat a cow,” Gretchen said.

Marge winked at Josh, then looked toward the kitchen. “Harry, cook me up a couple of our best steaks, and don’t be frying up any of those skinny breakfast ones, either. These kids deserve T-bones.”

Chapter 3

Gretchen couldn’t remember when she’d enjoyed a meal more, although she felt like a fraud accepting it. Her waitressing skills left a lot to be desired, and by the end of three hours her feet hurt, her back ached, and she had a new appreciation of the skills required to wait tables.

It was almost noon by the time they were back on the road. Unlike the previous day, when they’d ridden hour upon hour without a break, Josh stopped every ten or fifteen miles, wherever there was a scenic overlook. Gretchen had traveled down the Oregon coast any number of times and found the scenery breathtaking. But nothing compared to viewing the magnificence on a bright sunny day in June from the back of Josh’s Harley. It went a long way, in fact, to assuaging the ache in her heart.

She didn’t want to think about Roger or the wedding, and yet they filled every corner of her mind. She didn’t mention his name, not once, during any of their stops, but she talked about everything else without pausing for breath. Josh’s patience was nothing short of miraculous. She couldn’t remember ever being so talkative. She told him story upon story of growing up in San Francisco. She endlessly bragged about her older brother, and dragged out four or five pictures of her eighteen-month-old niece.

At each stop Josh would sit on the rock-wall railing with his back to the ocean and listen as if he’d never heard anything more fascinating. Gretchen wished she’d paid more attention in psychology class so she could appreciate what was happening to her. Could analyze it and stop this infernal chattering.

He rarely commented, just sat and listened, nodding and smiling now and again. Their last stop to view the scenery was Rockaway Beach. While standing in the glorious sunshine, looking out over the relentless surf, she started laughing as she told a story about her niece. She’d asked Jazmine to get her a pair of shoes, and the toddler had promptly delivered every pair Gretchen owned.

As she neared the end of the tale, her laughter altered and unexpected tears flooded into her eyes. “I…I don’t know why I’m going on like this,” she said when she found it impossible to hide what was happening.

“I know why.” He stood and gently placed his hands on her shoulders. Then, with a tenderness that made her want to weep even more, he pulled her close and wrapped his arms around her. “It’s all right, Gretchen. Go ahead and cry. You’re hurting. The man you loved isn’t the person you thought he was.”

Like water through a burst dam, her sobs broke free. They seemed to surge upward from the deepest part of her, until it wasn’t only her shoulders that shook but her entire body. She tried to break away from Josh, but he wouldn’t allow it. He pressed her closer, murmuring words of comfort all the while.