The Hero's Sin

Once he showed up at the wedding, the buzzing would start. It wouldn’t take long for word to reach Aunt Felicia.

“Where are you staying?” she asked.

“A hotel outside of town.”

“Felicia!” A different voice this time. “We’re waiting.”

His aunt’s face twisted with an emotion he couldn’t identify.

“You’d better go,” he told her and backed away from the door, chiding himself for expecting too much. He descended the creaky porch stairs and was almost to the sidewalk when her voice stopped him, so soft he almost didn’t hear it.

“Michael.”

He turned around, trying not to hope. “Yeah?”

“When are you leaving town?”

“Sunday morning,” he said.

“Could you stop by before you go?”

He started nodding before she finished the question, a flame of optimism leaping inside him. “Yeah. Sure.”

“I’ve got some of your things in the basement,” she said softly. “Nothing valuable, but you might want them back.”

Somehow he managed to tell her good-night before making his lonely way back to his rental car. He wished like hell he hadn’t promised Johnny he’d come to the wedding.

Some people really couldn’t go home again.

It seemed he was one of them.

CHAPTER TWO

“I NEVER saw anybody cry so much at a wedding!”

Sara tried not to wince as she regarded the short, middle-aged woman in front of her in the receiving line at the VFW hall, which was decorated in soft pastels to reflect the varying colors of the bridesmaid’s dresses.

So much for creating a first impression of toughness, a quality most people sought in a lawyer.

Sara couldn’t even console herself with the fiction that few of the wedding guests had noticed her tears. Three women had offered her tissues. This woman—she’d introduced herself as Marie Dombrowski—hadn’t been sitting anywhere near her.

“Weddings do that to me,” Sara said as they passed through an arch of silk flowers interspersed with white netting and approached the receiving line. “I can’t seem to help myself.”

Marie patted Sara on the arm, sympathy practically oozing from her. “Don’t worry, dear. Someday it’ll be your turn.”

“You’ve got it wrong. That’s not why—” Sara began.

“Being a romantic is nothing to be ashamed of,” Marie interrupted. “But of course you know that. Only a romantic would wear an adorable dress like that.”

Sara smoothed a hand down the skirt of the paisley-print, triple-flounced sleeveless dress she wore with matching pink-and-red-satin sandals. She’d bought the dress on a whim while shopping for a new work wardrobe that wasn’t so stuffy. The look was ultra-feminine, a drastic change of pace from the structured suits she used to wear no matter the occasion.

“Thank you,” Sara said, “but nobody’s ever called me a romantic before. Especially not the men I’ve dated.”

“Then none of them must’ve been right for you,” Marie declared. She herself was wearing a pink knee-length dress with tiny appliquéd hearts on the bodice.

“I wasn’t right for them, either. Lawyers don’t generally make good girlfriends.”

“Now I know who you are!” Marie exclaimed, looking delighted with herself. “You bought that empty storefront on Main Street. Aren’t you an old friend of the bride’s from high school?”

“That’s right. But how did you know that?”

“Oh, honey. Indigo Springs may be turning into a tourist town, but among the locals nothing’s a mystery. Isn’t that right, Frank?” She nudged the stout, silent man at her elbow she’d introduced as her husband. He startled as though he’d been awakened from a nap even though they were among the last guests to arrive and the decibel level in the hall grew louder by the second.

“Oh, yes.” His smile included both Sara and his wife. “Whatever you say, dear.”

“In this case,” Sara said, “I’m hoping the story about me crying at the wedding doesn’t get around.”

“Are you kidding?” Marie exclaimed. “That’s the only thing people would be talking about if it wasn’t for Michael Donahue.”

Marie and her husband reached the front of the receiving line before Sara could ask who Michael Donahue was. This wasn’t the first time she’d heard the name. While she’d waited outside the church for the newly married couple to emerge, two elderly men had been discussing him.

“You’re sure it was Donahue?” one of the men had asked in a loud voice.

“’Course I am. Came in late and sat in the last pew. Slipped out before the ceremony ended, too.”

The loud man had whistled. “Wonder what Quincy Coleman will do when he finds out he’s back.”

Who was Michael Donahue? And who, for that matter, was Quincy Coleman?

Sara put her curiosity on hold as she approached the parents of the bride, who were first in the receiving line and whom Sara had met once before. But the question was still tapping at the back of her mind as she reintroduced herself to Penelope’s mother and father and greeted the groom’s parents.

Penelope could surely enlighten her about Michael Donahue, but it became apparent now wasn’t the time to question her when the bride squealed.

“I’m so glad you’re here!” Penelope threw her arms around Sara, crinkling the bodice of her white gown against Sara’s chest and enveloping her in the scent of perfume. Penelope drew back and asked, “Is it true you cried through the ceremony?”

Sara laughed. “True. But it was your fault for looking so happy.”

“I am happy.” With her light-brown hair in an updo and eye makeup playing up her huge dark eyes, Penelope looked lovely. She beamed at her new husband, formally attired in a gray pin-striped tuxedo. “I’m the luckiest woman in the world.”

“And don’t you forget it.” Johnny Pollock winked at his bride. He was neither tall nor short, his features neither ugly nor handsome, his hair color neither blond nor brown. He was average in every way—until he smiled, transforming him into something special. “Nice to see you again, Sara.”

Sara had barely returned Johnny’s greeting when Penelope captured both of Sara’s hands in hers. “I never thought you’d leave that big law firm, but I’m so glad you did. I hope you love it here as much as I do.”

Love was the reason Penelope had relocated to Indigo Springs. Weeks after she’d made a sales call to Johnny’s construction company peddling industrial piping, he’d asked her to marry him. She’d dumped the job and gained a husband.

“I’m already starting to,” Sara said.

“Now go circulate.” Penelope beckoned her close and whispered in her ear. “I’m trying to figure out who the eligible men are, but forget about Johnny’s best man. Chase is hot, but his girlfriend and her little boy are living with him and they have a baby on the way.”