Her hand pressed to her stomach. “Pull over. Now.”
He threw on his right-turn signal and pulled to a stop in a barren stretch of desert. Meg barreled out of the vehicle, leaving the door ajar. She rushed over to a large rock and hunched over. So this was what she’d been doing when she ran out of the church. Must be a huge case of nerves.
He grabbed some napkins from his glove compartment and a bottle of unopened water. It was tepid, but it’d be better than nothing. He exited the truck and followed her. He wasn’t good with women—especially not ones who were upset and sick.
“Um…I can hold this for you.” He reached for the lengthy veil.
He didn’t know if he should try talking to her to calm her down or attempt to rub her back. He didn’t want to make things worse. Unsure what to do, he stood there quietly until her stomach settled. Then he handed over the meager supplies.
“You okay now?” he asked, just before his cell phone buzzed.
His grandmother. How could he have forgotten about her? This bride had a way of messing with his mind to the point of forgetting his priorities.
He flipped open his phone, but before he could utter a word Gram said, “Where are you? Everyone’s leaving.”
“I went for a little ride. I’ll be there in a few minutes.”
“Hurry. You won’t believe what happened. I’ll tell you when you get here.”
He hated the thought of going back and facing those reporters. Hopefully there’d be too much confusion with the missing bride and the exiting guests that they wouldn’t remember he’d been the only one around when Meg had disappeared.
He cast a concerned look at his pale stowaway. “We have to go back.”
Fear flashed in her eyes and she started shaking her head. “No. I can’t. I won’t.”
“Why? Because you changed your mind about the wedding? I’m sure people will understand.”
She shook her head. “No, they won’t.”
He didn’t have time to make her see reason. “I have to go back to the church. My grandmother is waiting. I can’t abandon her.”
Meg’s brow creased as she worried her bottom lip. “Then I’ll wait here.”
“What?” She couldn’t be thinking clearly. “I can’t leave you here. You’re not well.”
“I won’t go back there. I can’t face all of those people…especially my mother. And when the press spots us together they’ll have a field day.”
“You can hide on the floor again.”
She shook her head. “We were lucky to get away with that once. With all of the guests leaving, the chances of me staying hidden are slim to none.”
She had a good point, but it still didn’t sit right with him. “Leaving you here in the middle of nowhere, in this heat, isn’t a good idea.”
“This isn’t the middle of nowhere. I’m within walking distance of town. I’ll be fine. Just go. Your grandmother is waiting. There’s just one thing.”
“What’s that?”
“Leave me your cell phone.”
He supposed it was the best solution, but he didn’t like it. Not one bit. But the chance of discovery was too great. Not seeing any other alternative, he pulled the phone from his belt and handed it over.
“You’re sure about this?” he asked, hoping she’d change her mind.
She nodded.
“Then scoot around to the other side of that rock. No one will see you there—unless that veil thing starts flapping in the wind like a big flag.”
“It won’t.” She wound the lengthy material around her arm. A look of concern filled her eyes. “You will come back, won’t you?”
He didn’t want to. He didn’t want anything to do with this mess. All he wanted was to go home and get on with his life. But he couldn’t leave her sick and stranded.
“I’ll be back as fast as I can.”
Meghan Finnegan watched as the tailgate of the cowboy’s pickup faded into the distance. The events of the day rushed up and stampeded her, knocking the air from her lungs. How could Harold have waited until she’d walked up the aisle to tell her he’d suddenly changed his mind?
He didn’t want her.
And he wanted her to get rid of their unborn baby—a baby they’d agreed to keep secret until after the ceremony. Meghan wrapped her arms around her midsection. She loved her baby and she’d do whatever was necessary to care for it.
She sagged against the rock before her knees gave out. Sure, she knew Harold hadn’t wanted children—he’d made that clear from the start. And with her rising television career she’d accepted that children wouldn’t fit into her hectic lifestyle. But this was different—it had been an accident. When she’d told Harold about the pregnancy a few weeks ago he’d been stunned at first but then he’d seemed to accept it. What in the world had changed his mind?
The sound of an approaching vehicle—perhaps departing wedding guests—sent her scurrying behind the outcrop of large rocks. She wasn’t ready to face the inquiring questions, the pitying stares or the speculative guesses. At twenty-eight, she’d prided herself on having her life all planned out. Now she was pregnant and she didn’t have a clue what her next move should be.
She sank down on a small rock and yanked out scads of hairpins in order to release the veil. At last free of the yards of tulle, she ran her fingers through her hair, letting it flow over her shoulders.
She glanced down at the black phone in her lap. She should probably call her family, so they didn’t worry, but there was no way she was going to deal with her mother, who would demand answers. After all, her mother had been instrumental in planning this whole affair—from setting up her initial date with the boy-next-door who’d grown up to make a fortune in the computer software business to making the wedding plans. In fact the preparations were what had finally pulled her mother out of her depression after cancer had robbed them of Meghan’s father less than a year ago.
Not that all of the blame could be laid at her mother’s feet. Meghan had been willing to go along with the plans—anxious to put her father’s mind at ease about her future before he passed on. And, eager at last to gain her mother’s hard-won approval, she’d convinced herself Harold was the man for her.
Then, as the “big day” approached the doubts had started to settle in. At first she’d thought they were just the usual bridal jitters. But Harold had started to change—to be less charming and thoughtful. It had been as though she was really seeing him for the first time. But her options had vanished as soon as the pregnancy strip displayed two little pink lines.
Meghan’s hand moved to her barely-there baby bump. “It’s okay, little one. Mommy will fix things. I just need some time to think.”
First
