The Prodigal Bride. Beth Cornelison

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       Chapter 4

      Standing on her parents’ front porch, Zoey drew a deep breath, shelved her pride. She mustered the nerve to face her father’s I-told-you-sos and the crestfallen disapproval in her mother’s eyes. Gage reassured her with a gentle shoulder squeeze that stirred warmth in her belly. Although glad to have him beside her, bolstering her courage, this was her battle, her mess to clean up, and she couldn’t rely on him to be her knight this time, swooping in to save her from her parents’ disenchantment.

      Within seconds of Zoey’s firm knock on the massive mahogany door, her mother answered the summons, her face reflecting first shock, then joy, before the first hints of suspicion and concern etched creases around her eyes. “Zoey! Honey … I—What—?”

      Her mother clapped a hand to her chest as if trying to catch her breath. Ellen Bancroft’s gaze darted to Gage before returning to her prodigal daughter.

      “Surprise.” Zoey forced a grin, her heart tap-dancing in her chest. “I’m home and … I have news. Is Dad around?”

      “Yes, somewhere. Come in.” Her mother ushered them inside, greeting Gage with a hug.

      “Neil, it’s Zoey and Gage! Where are you?” Ellen called toward the kitchen, then waved them toward the family room couch.

      On the mantel, Zoey spotted the newest framed pictures in her parents’ collection. Wedding pictures for both of her older sisters, a family shot of Holly with her husband and her new stepchildren, and a cameo of Paige and her husband, Jake, at the ribbon cutting of their new private security firm. A twinge of jealousy nipped at her. Her sisters had success, family, careers … a multitude of reasons their parents could be proud. Zoey’s picture was conspicuously missing. But, then, what had she done lately that was memorable or photo-worthy?

      Sibling rivalry was nothing new to her. She’d long been falling short of her sisters’ high-water marks. She’d learned early in life that she didn’t have the good grades and ambition that earned praise for Paige or the good behavior and sweet disposition that garnered Holly their parents’ endearments. She’d fought her restless nature, struggled to make passing grades, but her adventurous impulses continually led her into mischief and her parents’ bad graces.

      Then in junior high, she’d discovered drama club. She could be melodramatic, loud and over-the-top, and people approved. She could pretend to be someone else, and her family applauded. She’d found her niche in acting, a way to live her life in bold gestures and big emotions, and her family didn’t roll their eyes in frustration or shake their heads in dismay.

      But when high school ended, so had her acting career. She’d abandoned the stage in pursuit of new adventures—Europe after graduation. A half-dozen attempts to find a career that had a brighter future than that of starving actor. Then Derek.

      The thud of footsteps on the hardwood hall floor preceded Neil Bancroft’s appearance at the study door. When he spotted Zoey, he stilled, stared, then crossed the room in three giant steps to fold his daughter in a warm embrace. “Welcome home, sweetheart. Are you all right?”

      Zoey’s throat tightened with emotion. She hadn’t expected her father’s affectionate greeting, considering the acrimony of their last conversation in this room. Still pressed against her father’s chest, she nodded, not trusting her voice. Finally, Neil stepped back, squaring his shoulders. Shaking from her rioting emotions, Zoey sank onto the couch next to her husband. Her husband. Leapin’ lizards.

      Gage rose long enough to shake Neil’s hand in greeting. Her father nodded a welcome before casting a quick look around the room. “Is he here, too?”

      Her father’s tone of voice, his derogatory emphasis, left no question of whom he meant. Zoey bristled at her father’s shift into a combative demeanor, and Gage, clearly reading her body language, placed a hand on her knee, silently advising patience. The warmth of his hand seeped through her jeans and stirred a giddy flutter in her belly. The memory of their wedding kiss teased the edges of her thoughts, rattling her further. Why did Gage have this unnerving effect on her now? Was it just because they were married? Biting her lip, she fumbled for composure before answering her father. “No. He … we broke up.”

      She divided a glance between her parents, gauging their reaction to this news. Her father arched a graying eyebrow, indicating he expected an explanation, while her mother’s expression lit with hope and relief. Beside the couch where Zoey perched, a large grandfather clock stood sentinel over the room, while its ticktocking reverberated in the ensuing quiet like a game-show timer, urging her to continue.

      Her father crossed his arms and cocked his head. “How much did he take you for?”

      His confidence in his question chafed. Zoey raised her chin, vacillating between, “Who says he took me for anything?” and the truth. But what good would denials do, other than salve her pride for a few seconds before she came clean?

      She rubbed her palms on her jeans and huffed a sigh. СКАЧАТЬ