The Bride Wore A Forty-Four Read Online Free

pressing a hand to
her heart as she lifted her gaze to the photo of her and her late
husband, Daniel, smiling, arm in arm. There were photos of him in
every room of the house. She must have adored him.
    "So Dad approved of him."
    "He seemed to."
    She nodded slowly, wondering how best to
approach the new thought on her mind, and finally settling for the
inane, "How do we know Marshall?"
    Her mother lifted her brows. "He's your
wedding planner, dear. Are you sure you're all right?"
    "I'm fine. What I mean is, do we know him
outside his job? Was he ever—a family friend or anything like
that?"
    "What a strange question." Her mother
shrugged. "No, dear. We don't know him outside his job." Then she
tipped her head. "Has he done something inappropriate, Kira?"
    "Mother, really. Of course not."
    Her mother studied her. But then the bustle
of footsteps through the house drew their attention away, and they
both turned to see Peter Nelson himself hurrying into the room. He
wore a big smile—even white teeth in a tanned face— and beach blond
hair.
    "Peter!" Abby jumped to her feet and stood
behind Kira's chair. "You're not supposed to see the bride before
the wedding!"
    "That's superstition," Peter said with a
smile. "I promise, no disaster will result if I give my bride a
gift before the ceremony."
    "It's all right, Mom," Kira said, rising from
her chair. "Hello, Peter." She watched him, searching his face. He
was handsome. Polite. Good to her.
    Hell, why was she having such misgivings
about this marriage?
    Maybe because you don't love him, have you
thought of that?
    She shrugged off that rationale. She didn't
feel strong emotions for anyone or for anything. It was part of her
condition. She'd loved him once. It would come back, probably when
her memory did.
    He clasped her elbows and kissed her cheek.
"Morning, love. How are you feeling?"
    "Wonderful. Join us for some French
toast?"
    "No time. So much to do. But I wanted to give
you this." He brought a teddy bear from behind his back.
    It was pink and wore a bridal gown and veil.
Custom-made for her, obviously. What were soon to be her initials
were embroidered within a red, heart-shaped outline on the front of
the dress, which was made of real satin, unless she was
mistaken.
    "It's incredible."
    "Look around her neck. Under the dress," he
added.
    Frowning, she ran a finger under the dress's
neckline and pulled out a strand of pearls. They were huge. "God,
Peter, these must have cost a fortune."
    "Nothing's too good for you. I hope you'll
wear them today."
    "I will. Thank you, Peter."
    "You're welcome." Again, he leaned in,
kissing her lips this time, lightly and gently. Then he turned and
hurried away.
    Kira sank into her chair, placing the
pearl-laden teddy bear in an empty one nearby. "That was sweet of
him," she said.
    "It was amazing." Her mother dabbed at the
corner of one eye with her napkin.
    Kira sighed and dug into her French toast,
eating quickly, because she was eager to get to her hair
appointment. She finished up, said good-bye to her mother, and
dashed up to her room to get the bag she'd packed. Then she headed
for the salon.
    Two hours later, the stylist, Nadine, said,
"You're sure this is what you wanted? To look like you did in this
photo?"
    Kira nodded. "Yes, I'm sure, for the tenth
time, I'm sure. Can I see? Did you do it?"
    "Oui, it is done." Nadine spun her
chair around so she faced the mirror. "Voil a !"
    Kira stared at her reflection. Her eyes
slammed closed against the tidal wave that suddenly hit her brain.
Images, voices surged. There were people running around her, debris
raining down, smoke, blood, screaming, and crying. There was a dead
man beside her, a man she ought to know. And there was another man,
leaning over her, his eyes stricken as he stared down at her.
"Kira? Baby? Are you okay?"
    She stared up at him for just an instant. Her
lips moved to form words, but she didn't know what they were. And
then she sank into darkness to the sound of his