Chapter 1 - The Fall
The bride shoved my mother hard enough to put her on the grass before the vows were even finished.
For one second, nobody moved.
My mother, Eleanor Hale, sat in the middle of the wedding lawn with one hand pressed into the grass and the other reaching for the wooden cane that had fallen beside her. A pale smear of mud darkened the hem of her powder-blue dress. Her face was not dramatic. That made it worse. She looked embarrassed, stunned, and determined not to cry in front of two hundred guests.
“Mom…” I heard myself say.
My bride, Lauren Pierce, stood three steps away in ivory lace, breathing hard.
“She stepped in front of me,” Lauren said.
I stared at her. “I watched you hit her shoulder.”
“It was an accident.”
“No,” said a voice behind us. “It wasn’t.”
My father, Robert Hale, crossed the lawn before I could move. He was sixty-one, tall, gray-haired, and usually calm enough to make other people lower their voices. He knelt beside my mother, took her hand, and helped her up with both patience and fury.
Mom’s lips trembled.
“I’m fine,” she whispered.
Dad looked at Lauren.
“That was enough.”
The whole lawn went silent.
Lauren’s mother, Vivian, rushed forward. “Robert, please. Everyone is emotional.”
Dad ignored her.
He steadied Mom, gave me one look, then walked to the microphone platform near the white floral arch.
I followed. “Dad, what are you doing?”
He picked up the microphone.
The string quartet stopped mid-note.
Guests turned in their chairs. Bridesmaids exchanged frightened glances. Lauren’s face lost color.
Dad looked straight at her.
“Before this wedding continues,” he said, “everyone needs to know what just happened.”
Lauren stepped forward. “Robert, don’t.”
Dad’s eyes narrowed.
Then he reached inside his suit jacket and pulled out a small black flash drive.
My stomach dropped.
May you like
Lauren whispered one word.
“No.”
