Beverly Long - Urgent Pursuit

It was probably Frank’s fault that Bray had become a marine. The man had talked about his years in the corps with such pride. Bray had wanted to be part of something like that.

When Bray had come home for his mother’s funeral eight years earlier, Frank had already sold the station and retired to Florida. Even so, Bray stopped in at the old place for gas.

They no longer sold hot dogs, and all the soda was in cans. Their main business was lottery tickets.

It was just more proof that the old saying about not being able to go home again was indeed fact.

The church was close, and Bray found a place to park. For as long as he could remember, his mother had been a regular attendee at the Lutheran church. He and his brothers had been baptized and confirmed here. His parents had both had their funerals here.

When Bray entered, he saw Chase first, standing next to a very pretty woman with short white-blond hair. Then there was Cal, with his arm slung around a stunningly beautiful woman with dark hair.

Next came hugs and introductions. Once he’d met Raney and Nalana, he was convinced that his brothers might have fallen, but they’d landed in cotton. The women were gorgeous and nice.

“Reverend Brown would like us to do a walk-through,” Raney said, pointing to the minister at the front of the church.

Clara Brown had performed both his father’s and his mother’s funerals. She was close to sixty and had a soft voice, but when she spoke, people listened. She’d known his mother better, and the eulogy that she’d delivered had been heartfelt and poignant, a fitting send-off for a good woman.

Bray waved to her. There was a middle-aged woman he didn’t know sitting at the piano. He gave her a quick nod and belatedly added a small smile. His partner on the job would have been proud. The guy, who’d recently met his one true love after a nine-month spree of online dating, was always telling him he needed to do that more. “You’re scary tough,” Mason would say. “Unapproachable. That turns people away, especially the babes. Try smiling.”

Every once in a while, he remembered.

“Nice to see you again, Bray,” Reverend Brown said. She stepped off the altar and walked toward them. “Just so you know,” she said, looking at Raney, “my ceremonies start and end on time. My assistant will be stationed with you and your attendants in the back of the church. I’m counting on the three of you,” she said, switching her gaze to the three Hollister men, “to figure out how to get yourselves out of the back room, through the side door and standing at the altar once the second song starts. Can you manage that?”

“I’ll keep him from running out the back door,” Bray said.

“No worries there,” Chase said, winking at Raney.

“I hope not,” Reverend Brown said, a smile in her voice. “It’s unfortunate that the maid of honor and other bridesmaid couldn’t be here for rehearsal, but I’m counting on the rest of you to fill them in.” Bray remembered that Chase had said that Raney wanted her two friends to be able to spend Thanksgiving with their families, so the women wouldn’t arrive until late Friday night.

No big deal. How tough could it be to walk down the aisle?

Tough enough that ten minutes later, Reverend Brown was making Raney do it a second this-time-slower time when Bray heard the sound of squealing tires and a slamming car door. Seconds later, someone pounding down the church steps to get to the basement. Then shouting. A man, loud. A woman, softer, muffled.

And the hair on the back of his neck stood up.

Raney stopped midaisle, turned and started for the back of the church. Chase caught up with her in just a few steps. Four feet later, Bray clamped a hand on his brother’s neck and gently grabbed Raney’s arm. “This is your practice,” he said. “I’ve got this.”

Both Raney and Chase hesitated, and then Chase gave a quick nod. “Be careful,” he said.

When Bray got to the top of the basement stairs, the yelling was still going on. He went fast but quietly down the thirteen steps. Rounded the corner, saw the back of a man and realized that he’d grabbed the person in front of him and was starting to shake them.

“Hey,” Bray yelled. And that caused just enough delay that he was able to get across the room, land a hand on the man’s shoulder and whip him around.

The man hadn’t touched him, but he’d felt as if he’d taken one in the stomach.

He hadn’t seen Summer Wright for fifteen years, and there she was. As beautiful as ever with her red hair. Her face was pale, and the fingers she had pressed up to her lips were shaking.

“What the hell?” The man was snarling and pushing at Bray.

Two quick moves and Bray had the man on his knees with his left arm wrenched high behind his back. “Shut up,” Bray said calmly.

“Are you okay?” he asked Summer.

She nodded.

So maybe he wouldn’t break this man’s neck. “What’s going on here?” Bray asked.

The man tried to twist away. “I’m having a damn conversation with my wife,” he said.

“Ex-wife,” Summer said. She swallowed hard and looked at Bray. “You can let him go,” she said softly.

So this sorry excuse for a man was Gary Blake. “I don’t think so.”

She licked her lips. “He’ll just make trouble for you if you don’t.”

Many years ago, Blake had been an officer on the local police force. Based on the uniform, he still was. He leaned close to Blake’s ear. “I’m going to let you up,” Bray whispered. “But if you make one move in her direction, I’m going to take you down, and I’m going to make it hurt.”

When Gary Blake was back on his feet, he whirled toward Bray. “Who the hell are you?” he demanded.

“Bray Hollister.”

He could tell the minute the name registered. Blake stood perfectly still, as if debating what to do next. Finally, he turned back toward Summer. “We’re not done,” he said. Then he walked out of the room.

Bray heard his feet on the stairs, heard the front door, heard a vehicle start. He heard all that while he watched the woman he’d once loved lower herself into a chair, as if her knees were about to give out.

“I figured you’d be home for the wedding,” she said.

He didn’t answer because he heard more noise on the stairs. Then Chase, Raney, Cal and Nalana were in the basement. Reverend Brown and the piano player were behind them.

“Everything under control?” Chase asked, looking at Bray.

Bray shrugged. Hell, no. He wasn’t in control. This woman had broken his heart. She’d chosen someone else. And he’d let that simmer in his gut for years until he’d finally believed he was over her.

And the past five minutes had proved that he’d been lying to himself for years. “Great. Just great.”

Raney crossed the room and wrapped an arm around Summer. “Don’t worry about these,” Raney said. “We’ll finish them up.”

He’d been so focused on Summer that he’d missed the twenty or so square glass vases that were on the kitchen counter behind her.

Summer shook her head. “Absolutely not,” she said, her voice sounding shaky. She cleared her throat. “I’ve only got a few to wash, and then I’ll load them in my van,” she added, more confidently.

Raney looked as if she might want to argue, but instead, she gave a quick nod. She looked up at Bray. “I understand you already know Summer.”

There wasn’t a sound in the room.

“She and her sister, Trish, are handling the flowers and the food for the reception that we’re having at the Wright Here, Wright Now Café,” Chase finally jumped in. “The church is letting us borrow the vases.”

Nobody seemed inclined to want to discuss Gary Blake and what had just happened. Was it because of the potential of Reverend Brown and the other woman hearing the conversation?