Wade's Way, installment 2

Hi Readers,

I'm sorry for the delay on getting the second installment up. I've had a busy weekend. First the dentist, which left me down for the count, then we put up our tree (finally!) and made Christmas cookies. At any rate, I hope you enjoy the second part of Wade's Way. On Friday you'll get a taste of Wade. He's been nudging me to get to his part of this love story and I just can't say no to him any longer. He's very persistent. :)

Wade's Way by Anne Rainey

After a car accident leaves Bride Donner badly scarred and her boyfriend dumps her, she’s more than ready to retreat from the pain of living. When she inherits her dear grandmother’s large, old home in the country, Bride knows it’s the perfect place to do some serious soul searching. But when she hires arrogant contractor Wade Jackson to restore the regal beauty, hiding is the last thing on his mind. In fact, the dangerously sexy man proves—over and over—that it’s not just the house he has designs on. Very soon, Bride lets down her defenses and finds herself doing things...Wade’s Way.

(please be aware that these installments are freshly typed and unedited) Part 2Two months later…

After Bride’s accident had left her with a sprained ankle, a concussion and a bandage on her face, Bride had decided to make a few necessary changes in her life. The first on the list was kicking Ron to the curb. He’d taken it about as well as he handled everything. He’d thrown a temper tantrum and gotten himself escorted from the hospital. Yeah, dumping the guy had felt like the right decision.
Now, as Bride stared at her reflection in her bathroom mirror, a tear trickled down her cheek. The crooked line that traveled along her cheek stopped half an inch from her chin. It appeared to be straight out of a horror movie. She’d never been a vain person. More often than not she rarely even wore makeup. She’d always been content with her looks. She was no model, but she wasn’t hard on the eyes either. The scar had taken that from her. Along with her confidence.
She didn’t even recognize the woman staring back at her. She lifted a finger and touched the pink flesh. The doctor had told her it would lighten over time. He’d given her ointment to help reduce the scarring, along with instructions to keep the area clean. She should be glad that there was rarely any pain. Just a twinge now and then if she smiled or laughed. She hadn’t done much of either though.
“Bride,” her mom called to her from the other room. “Dinner’s ready.”
Her mother had come to stay with her after she’d gotten out of the hospital, even though Bride had explained that it wasn’t necessary. As helpful as the woman had been, Bride had just wanted to be alone. To wallow in self-pity her mother had said. The frustrating thing was; her mom was right. She had wanted to wallow. A woman had a right to wallow under the circumstances, right?
When she entered the kitchen, Bride could smell the familiar scent of her mom’s homemade spaghetti sauce. “You’ve been busy,” Bride said as she reached into the cabinet to get plates.
Her mom turned and smiled, but it didn’t quite reach her eyes. “I always cook when I’m stressed or upset about something.”
As Bride set the table, her mom’s words registered and she frowned. “What are you upset about?”
Her mom didn’t speak. She merely dished out their spaghetti and instructed her to sit and eat. Her mom always dealt with bad news the same way. She cooked and she didn’t speak until she was good and ready.
At sixty-years-old, Bride’s mom still had a smooth face and brilliant blue eyes. Her figure had filled out a little with age, but Bride’s dad always teased that his wife only got better with age. Even after thirty-two years of marriage they were still very much in love. Bride wanted that someday. With her face scarred, though, Bride’s confidence in finding that sort of all-consuming love waivered.
Halfway through their meal her mom finally spoke up. “Your grandmother died.”
Bride stopped chewing as her mom’s words hit her. “You mean, your mom?” The woman had never been a part of their lives. Her mom rarely talked about it, but alcohol had ruined any sort of relationship her mom had had with the estranged woman.
Her mom nodded. “Yes, I’m afraid alcohol finally won. She had a stroke.”
Her mom bit her lower lip, as if attempting to hold back the tears. Bride reached across the table. “Are you okay?”
Her mom smiled, but it was clearly forced. “I’m fine, dear.” She shrugged and pushed her spaghetti around on her plate. “She made her choice years ago when she chose that foul drink over her own kids.”
“Yeah, but she was still your mom,” Bride said softly. Her mom might have come to terms with her mother’s total lack of love toward her children, but that didn’t change the fact that her mom still cared for the woman.
She rubbed her eyes. “It’s difficult,” she admitted. “But your Aunt Joan and I both knew that your grandmother had a heart of stone.”
Bride could see the topic hurt her mother and she didn’t want to drag out old wounds. “When is the funeral?”
She took a drink of her water. “Saturday. But there’s something I need to tell you before we get into all that.”
Bride cocked her head to the side. “Uh, okay.”
“Well, it seems that mom left her house to me,” she replied as anger began to replace the hurt in her mom’s eyes. “I want nothing to do with that place. It holds nothing but bad memories for me and Joan.”
“That’s understandable,” Bride replied. “Will you sell it then?”
Her mom’s gaze snagged hers. “Actually, we wondered if you might like to live in it.”
Bride dropped her fork. “Me?” she asked. “But why?”
“You said the other day that the lease on your apartment is nearly up and I know you’ve wanted to get away.” Her mom reached across the table and touched the scar on Bride’s cheek. “This hasn’t been easy to accept and I get that,” her mom said with a kind of understanding only a mother possessed. “Maybe some time in the country would be good for you.”
To Bride’s surprise, the idea held a modicum of appeal. Living in the city had been difficult. The stares she’d gotten from strangers on the street. The rude questions from the clerks at the grocery store and the bank. She choked back a curse. God, every time she went into town Bride had had to force a smile and pretend the horrified looks people sent her way didn’t bother her. “The change of scenery would be nice.”
She nodded. “Joan and I aren’t ready to sell the old place, but we’re not quite up to dealing with all the terrible memories either. A few months to gather our courage, that’s all we’re asking.”
Bride imagined a quant two-story Victorian with a wraparound porch. “What sort of shape is it in?”
“Oh, I’m sure it could use a repair or two” she bit out. “Mom wasn’t very good at keeping up on things.” She cringed. “And I wouldn’t be at all surprised if she was something of a hoarder.”
Bride had the sneaking suspicion that her mom’s offer wasn’t quite so black and white. “Are you doing this because you think I need the distraction?” Bride tapped the scar. “You’re worried about my state of mind, is that it?”
Her mom looked down at her plate. “That is part of it, yes,” she admitted. “You’ve shut yourself off from the world, sweetheart.”
Bride snorted. “And shipping me off to the country is going to fix that how?”
Her mom tsked. “I’m not shipping you off, Bride. I just think what you need is a project. Something to take your mind off the lousy hand fate has dealt you.”
Bride couldn’t fault her mom’s logic. An old house in need of repairs did sound appealing. Maybe she’d even find out more about her mom’s past. Bride had always wondered what had taken place to cause her mom and Aunt Joan to cut themselves off so completely from their mother.
“Okay, I’ll do it,” Bride answered, suddenly feeling better than she had in weeks.
Her mom smiled. “I’m glad to hear that, because I’ve booked a flight back to Florida right after the funeral and I was worried about leaving you here alone.”
Bride chuckled. “Uh, I’ll be just as alone in grandmother’s house as I would be here.”
“Yes, but at least there you’ll have something to distract you,” she replied. “Something to sink your teeth into.”
“Well, let’s hope I find something truly exciting out there,” she said. “I need it.”
“Oh, I have a feeling you will, dear,” her mom said with a small, secret smile. Bride wanted to ask her about that smile, but she was too distracted by the excitement filling her to really care. It felt good to be excited. It felt good to concentrate on something other than her scar and all the pain that came with it.

Happy reading,