Apple Blossom Bride. Lois Richer

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СКАЧАТЬ blinked, startled by the command of a man who looked like a storybook hermit. She obeyed automatically, thinking she must know him. A friend of her father perhaps?

      But when they reached the curb and he opened the door of a battered station wagon, her confusion gave way to uncertainty, concern, then full-bodied fear. She opened her mouth to protest but he thrust her inside, then climbed in beside her.

      Panic gripped her so fiercely she couldn’t breathe or make her legs work. The sensation of spiders crawling over her skin made her scratch at her arms. But that was nothing compared to the wave of dizziness that rose inside when she glanced over her shoulder and saw two suitcases on the backseat of the man’s car.

      You have to be careful, Ashley. Her mother’s constant refrain accompanied the warning bells that were filling her brain.

      She hadn’t been careful. Now she was being kidnapped.

      “Stop!”

      But he didn’t stop, and before she could scramble out of the car he’d already shifted into gear and roared past the church, past the apple blossom tree where she’d always found sanctuary.

      “Let me out,” she whispered, pressing herself against the door. Her throat was so dry so could hardly speak. “Please let me out.”

      He didn’t seem to hear her. His attention was on his rearview mirror, his foot heavy on the gas pedal. He was moving too fast for her to jump out of the car.

      They neared the center of town. Surely someone would notice that Ashley Adams was in a strange man’s car?

      But the stores were closing, the streets almost deserted. Only the coffee shop still shone its bright neon lights onto the street, welcoming people into its cozy interior.

      “Let me go!” she pleaded. “I’m supposed to be at home now.”

      He ignored her. Perhaps he knew that her parents were too busy with their divorce plans to notice she hadn’t been home all afternoon. Maybe that’s why he’d taken her—maybe people could take one look at her and know that she was going to be like the kids in school she’d always felt sorry for.

      As the car whizzed over the road Ashley tried to pray, struggled to think about God and those loving arms Mrs. Masters always talked about. But she couldn’t feel them. All she felt was alone and very scared.

      The man hunched over the wheel, his face set in a forbidding angry mask. Every so often he’d glance in his rearview mirror. Then his lips pinched together and his fingers squeezed the wheel so tightly they turned pasty-white. Anger emanated from him like smoke from a fire ready to ignite.

      She had to get out of this car!

      They approached the only traffic light in town, a yellow light which quickly turned red. It was now or maybe never. Ashley slid her fingers around the door handle and prepared herself. When he jerked to a stop she yanked the door open, hurled out of the vehicle and raced across the street to Mrs. Masters’s coffee shop.

      “Hey! Wait. I’ll take you home,” the man yelled after her.

      Fat chance!

      Ashley didn’t look back nor did she stop running until she reached the coffee-shop door. Using both hands she dragged it open, burst into the pungent warmth that surrounded her as she drew deep gasping breaths into her lungs. She glanced from face to face, searching for an ally.

      There were two customers at the counter. Mrs. Masters was laughing with them, but she stopped when Ashley locked the café door. By the time her sobs gurgled out, her Sunday school teacher was there, holding her.

      “What’s the matter, honey?”

      “A man.” Ashley clung to her capable hands as if to anchor herself. “A man tried to take me away. In his car.”

      “What man?” Mrs. Masters peered through the coffee-shop windows, shook her head. “I don’t see anyone.”

      “He was there. I was at the apple tree by the ch-church and he grabbed me. He was trying to k-kidnap me.” She was shaking and didn’t know how to stop.

      As if through a fog she heard Mrs. Masters speaking, felt herself being pushed down onto a chair. Someone pressed her hands around a cup. It warmed her icy fingers so she clung to it while people came and went.

      “She said a man took her.” She felt their stares and looked away, locking her gaze on the table, the chair, anything but the street in front. A while later her father came and took her home. To the home she wasn’t going to have anymore.

      That night the dreams started: nightmares so real Ashley could feel those bony fingers pressing into her skin, hear the gravel rattling beneath her feet as he pulled her across it, feel the biting odor of freshly cut spruce sting her nostrils and the hard metal pressure of the window handle against her back when she crouched in the car and waited for a chance to escape.

      And every time she’d wake up, shaking, crying, knowing that some time, someday, somewhere he’d come back.

      And that when he did, she wouldn’t be able to leave.

      Chapter One

      Ashley shoved open the door of her Vancouver condo with her crutch and hobbled inside, absorbing the stale odor of a place too long uninhabited. She let the door swing closed behind her, made sure it was locked, then concentrated on inhaling deep breaths.

      She was home. She was safe.

      The mail sat neatly stacked on a side table, thanks to her landlord. But Ashley ignored it, coaxing her body to move a little farther into the room.

      All she really wanted was to run. Which was sad when she’d spent so much time and effort dealing with her panic attacks, making this her safe haven. The accident with Kent had only proven what she already knew—there was no safe place. As if to emphasize that point, the fear that had assailed her in the elevator a few moments ago now ballooned and wouldn’t let go.

      The phone rang.

      “Ash?” Piper’s familiar voice soothed her fractured nerves. “I thought you’d be coming home today. How are you feeling?”

      “Battered and bruised, Pip. My ankle’s weak so I’m on crutches for a couple of days. But I’m okay.” Would she ever be okay again?

      “And Kent?”

      “Walked away without a scratch. It was my side of the sportscar that was hit.” She debated whether to explain, then decided there was no point in pretending. “He kept going faster, though I begged him to stop. He told me he could handle it, that he knew what he was doing with such a powerful car. He lied about that. He lied about everything.”

      “Oh, Ashley. I’m so sorry.”

      She couldn’t handle the rush of sympathy. Not now. Not today.

      “I’m not,” she said steeling herself against the pain she knew would follow the words. “It wasn’t me he really wanted. It was the money. It’s better it happened now, before we’re married, than finding out two years down the road.”

      “Yes, СКАЧАТЬ