Elizabeth August - The Bride's Second Thought

Elizabeth does counted cross-stitching to keep from eating at night. It doesn’t always work. “I love to bowl, but I’m not very good. I keep my team’s handicap high. I like hiking in the Shenadoahs, as long as we start up the mountain so the return trip is down rather than vice versa.” She loves to go to Cape Hatteras to watch the sun rise over the ocean. Elizabeth August has also published under the pseudonym Betsy Page.

Dear Reader,

I have been called old-fashioned and naive. I’ll accept old-fashioned because in many ways I am...at least as defined by the modern media. I confess, I saved myself for marriage, and my family has always come first.

As for being naive, I am not. Considering the threats to one’s health and the possibility of an unexpected pregnancy, I considered my choice to remain chaste a rational one. Certainly a safe one. And, because I am the person I am, it was the right emotional choice for me. Other women have made a different choice, and it has worked out just as well for them. And I am happy for them.

To those of you reading this letter, my hope is that you will listen to your heart and mind and do what’s best for you. And I sincerely wish each and every one of you a long and happy life.

Best,

Chapter One

“Stupid! Stupid! Stupid! Stupid!” Ellen Reese muttered to herself. “Decisions made at 2:00 a.m. should always be reevaluated in the light of day.”

Of course she’d had all day to think, but she’d been too angry and hurt. The truth was she hadn’t wanted to think. Now she was in trouble and had no one to blame but herself.

When she’d left Boston this morning, the sky had been clear. Halfway through New Hampshire, fresh snow had begun to fall but she hadn’t stopped. For a foolish reason that had seemed rational at two in the morning, she’d vowed to keep driving until she’d crossed the Canadian border. So she’d continued north through the mountainous terrain, concentrating on the beauty of the white-blanketed wilderness and trying to block out the scene that had sent her on this journey.

She’d reasoned that she didn’t have to worry about a few flakes. There was already several feet of snow on the ground. People up here were used to snow. The highway department had plenty of plows to clear the roadways. After all, this was ski country and people made their money catering to tourists. Besides, if the roads got dangerous, she could always find a motel.

With those thoughts in mind, she hadn’t paid any heed to the increasing strength of the storm nor the steadily increasing buildup of snow on the road. Admittedly, when she’d passed through that last small town, she had considered stopping, but the border was so close, and getting there had become an obsession. Minutes ago the snow had suddenly begun to come down with blizzard force. Blocking out the remaining rays of daylight, it had brought with it an early dusk. Even with her windshield wipers moving rapidly, she’d barely been able to see beyond the hood of her car and had had to reduce her speed to a crawl. She’d considered turning back but, according to the. map, there was another town not much further in front of her. Besides, since she was hardly able to see forward, making a U-turn with no visibility hadn’t appealed to her.

It was about that time that the extent of the foolishness of her behavior had hit her full force. Straining her eyes, looking for evidence of other cars on the road, she’d recalled that she’d seem none for quite a while. Even in the small town she’d passed through, no one had been out.

“That’s because everyone else was smart enough to stay in or seek shelter a long time ago,” she’d admonished herself.

Driving had become more and more impossible. Out of desperation, when she’d seen a mailbox, she’d turned off the main road onto the private lane hoping to seek shelter at the home beyond.

Now she was hopelessly stuck. Even worse, she couldn’t see any indication of a house in the distance. The lane simply wound into the forest.

Fighting a rising panic, she peered hard into the dim twilight. The lane had been plowed after the last snowfall. She could tell that because of the mounds of snow on either side. That meant that someone lived out there somewhere.

“The house is probably just around the first bend,” she reasoned, using the sound of her voice to bolster her courage.

Wrapping her coat tightly around her body, she opened the car door and stepped out. A blast of arctic air greeted her. Feeling her feet already beginning to freeze, she silently congratulated herself for not being entirely foolish and popped open the trunk. She’d been driving in sneakers but had packed boots. Finding them and grabbing her suitcase, she climbed into the back seat. There in the shelter of her vehicle, she discarded her sneakers and wet socks. A strong gust of wind buffeted the car causing it to sway. After finding a pair of fresh socks, she pulled them on, then pulled on the boots. Already snow had covered her front windshield.

“Maybe it would be smart to wait until daylight or at least until the snow stops,” she murmured under her breath. Her short trip to the trunk had left her coat snow covered and a chill creeping through her body. If she remained where she was, she had a suitcase full of clothes she could keep layering to stay warm.

“Or I could end up freezing to death in the back seat of my car when there could be a house no more than a hundred yards away,” she argued, feeling the temperature of the interior of the vehicle dropping rapidly.

Suddenly the car jolted. Looking to the window beside her, she saw a pair of huge paws spread on the glass.

A gasp of fear escaped. Then recognizing the paws as belonging to a canine, she reminded herself that dogs had masters, and her fear was replaced by a flood of relief.

A long wolflike snout and sharp bared teeth became visible between the paws.

“I think I’ll just wait in the car until his master arrives,” she decided, hoping the glass would hold.

The animal lowered itself and took a stance a couple of feet away. Peering out the window, her breath caught in her throat. She’d assumed the dog was the pet of the people who owned the house the mailbox belonged to. But on closer inspection, it looked more like a wolf. “Some breeds of dogs look like wolves,” she reasoned encouragingly. Still, recalling that wolves ran in packs, she peered out all of the other windows to see if there were any others. She could see none, but then her visibility was extremely limited.

“It’s a dog,” she proclaimed, fighting to keep her panic from rising.

Suddenly the animal lifted its chin and began to howl. It was a wolf, and it was calling to its friends! For a moment she sat frozen in fear, then her fighting instinct took over. “Think!” she ordered herself.

“I’ve got to believe there’s someone just around that bend,” she said through clenched teeth. Leaning over the front seat, she paused with her hand above the horn. Was an SOS three dots, three dashes and three dots or was it three dashes, three dots and three dashes? The first, she decided, and pressed on the horn. After the forth repetition, she stopped. She didn’t want to wear out her battery. She’d wait. If no one came, she’d try again when the snow stopped.

The cold was creeping into her bones. Forcing herself to discard her coat momentarily, she pulled on a bulky sweater over the one she was already wearing and a pair of sweatpants over her jeans, then put her coat back on.

Outside the wolf continued to howl.