A Bride In Waiting. Sally Carleen
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three of them headed out of the church with Clare clucking and fussing over Sara’s health.
Lucas caught a fleeting glimpse of Ralph’s confused expression as Analise’s father followed behind them. He knew something wasn’t right with his daughter. Rather, the girl he thought was his daughter.
Somehow Lucas’s attempt to keep the situation smooth had resulted in a sticky mess.
“Lucas, where’s your car?” Clare asked as they exited the church.
“On Main Street,” he answered truthfully. “It overheated.”
“How did you get here?”
“I borrowed that car.” He pointed to Sara’s white sedan.
“Well, take it back and we’ll see you at the house later.”
“Analise has the keys.”
“Give him the keys, baby.”
Sara gave him another panic-stricken look as she handed him the car keys. He took them and Clare guided her into their Cadillac. Lucas gave her a smile he hoped was reassuring. “I’ll be right behind you,” he called.
Oh, boy, he thought as he trotted over to Sara’s car.
Not only did he have to figure out some way to get Sara out of that house, but he’d forgotten about that damn dinner tonight.
He’d bridged a stream only to have a chasm open at his feet. He couldn’t possibly ask Sara to pose as Analise again. All he’d done was delay the town’s and her parents’ knowledge of her defection. Ralph would be disappointed at Lucas’s failure to bring stability to Analise’s life. Clare would be a basket case. They were good people. He didn’t want to see either of them upset.
And, since his acceptance in Briar Creek hinged on Ralph’s acceptance of him, if Ralph’s daughter rejected him, all the old talk would start again.
He pulled onto the street behind Ralph’s car.
Maybe if he begged Sara...
Maybe if he let her attack him again, she’d feel guilty again and agree to this second favor.
In spite of the remembered pain, he had to smile at the way she’d defended herself. For someone so timid, she certainly knew her self-defense techniques and wasn’t afraid to use them.
Sara Martin was an enigma, a tantalizing enigma, one he’d be tempted to explore if he weren’t marrying Analise.
He frowned at his own thoughts.
He was engaged to Analise. He shouldn’t be having thoughts like that about another woman. He never had before, and this was certainly no time to start.
So what if Analise and he didn’t have that crazy, can’t-live-without-each-other passion that the world insisted on writing songs about. He’d seen what that grand passion had done for his parents...ruined both their lives.
Analise was his friend, someone who would never make him lose control of his life or bring him pain. In spite of the fact that Analise was untamed and passionate, their relationship with each other was sane and safe.
Thank goodness he was marrying Analise and couldn’t go chasing after tantalizing enigmas.
Chapter Three
Analise’s house was every bit as intimidating as the church, Sara thought as they drove through the security gate and up the hill. Huge live oak, pecan and magnolia trees lined the entry and spread around the big, white Colonial structure. A smaller edifice would be hidden, but the Brewster house sat in regal splendor on top of the hill overlooking its domain. Bright roses twined in orderly fashion over trellises on each side of the front porch.
Lucas pulled in behind them and parked in the driveway in front of the large detached garage, then the four of them followed the sidewalk that wound to the front porch. Clare continued to talk, but Sara didn’t hear anything she said. She looked down at the pebbled walk, at the velvety green lawn and called herself all kinds of an idiot. She’d always been so sedate, so sensible, so aware of the real world. She’d never indulged in daydreaming about things she couldn’t have.
Until today.
She’d almost escaped until Analise’s mother had reached up and touched her so gently and asked her to be her little girl one last time. She’d been determined she would get away from Analise’s parents, from the church, from Lucas...but suddenly she’d slipped into that blasted fantasy again just the way she had while walking down the aisle. Without warning, an intense, aching loneliness had overwhelmed her, a longing to be cared for by a mother like Clare.
Her own mother—her adoptive mother—had loved her in her own way. June Martin had been a strict disciplinarian and she hadn’t been a demonstrative person, but Sara could scarcely lament the lack of something she’d never had.
And she wasn’t feeling that lack today, she assured herself. She was just getting caught up in the pretense, the way an actress sometimes got caught up in the role she was playing.
Which rationalization didn’t help her situation. All she wanted to do right now was blurt out the truth and. get away from these people, this house, this town. Go back to her dull little life and forget about finding her real mother who hadn’t wanted her anyway so why was she so determined to find her?
Lucas’s hand at the small of her back urged her up the steps of the porch and into the tiled entryway of the big house.
A crystal chandelier sparkled overhead and a wide, curving staircase loomed before her.
“Go on upstairs to your room, and I’ll have Annie make you that soup,” Clare instructed.
Lucas guided her toward the stairs. The enduring scents of old wood and lemon oil wrapped around her, speaking of a permanence she’d never known. She laid a tentative hand on the smooth, cool surface of the banister.
“Don’t even think of sliding down that thing again,” Ralph called.
She looked back to see him grinning at her, but his gaze was intent...assessing. He knew something was wrong.
She gave him a small smile. “Don’t worry. I won’t.”
Lucas hustled her up the stairs and into Analise’s room.
As soon as he closed the door behind them, she sank to the floor, drawing in huge gulps of air and expelling them in something between sobs and hysterical laughter. Lucas squatted beside her.
“I’m sorry, Sara. I thought this would be simple. I had no idea this was going to happen.”
“What about the rehearsal dinner? You failed to mention that!”
Lucas ran his fingers through his hair, mussing his immaculate style. “I forgot. I was so upset about everything else, I forgot about that damn dinner. I don’t suppose...” -
“No! Absolutely not. This is making a nervous wreck out of me. I’m sorry. I just can’t.”
“That’s okay. I shouldn’t have asked. Look, if you can just eat some soup and then say you feel better, I’ll get you out of here. That would be typical Analise behavior. She’s always charging off somewhere, doing something bizarre. Like she did today.”
“She goes off like that without telling her parents?” Sara asked incredulously. “I couldn’t even go out in the yard without asking my mother.”
“Analise always tells them, but it’s usually after the fact, when it’s too late for them to stop her. In this case, she told me, and I’m to tell her parents. She’s kind of impulsive.”
“Sounds like it.” Flaky and irresponsible, Sara would have said, though she found herself liking the absent Analise and wondering what it must be like to be so confident and so daring.
She leaned back against the door, pulled her