Page 1 of The Bride Auction

Chapter 1

Summer

The wind whistled as my friend Sarah and I walked home after a long shift at Mr. Johnson’s General store where we both worked as cashiers. I appreciated that she slowed to accommodate my limp especially as early winter dug its claws into the mountains of New Hampshire.

A few blocks from my house, Sarah slowed to a snail’s pace, looking up at me. “Hey Summer, mind if we hold off on going home for a bit? I’ve got a little bit of news,” she said.

“Oh?”

“I’m going to sign up for the GBA, and I wanted you to be the first to hear it. I didn’t want rumors floating around town; you know what old Mrs. Simpson is like. She’ll gossip about anything.”

I laughed, My brows crinkled in confusion. “I know Mrs. Simpson, she’ll add her conspiracy theories to anything. What is the GPA and why are you signing up for it?”

“It’s the Galaxy Bridal Auction, GBA, not GPA. We’re not in school anymore.” Sarah laughed.

I gaped at my friend. “Let me repeat, why are you signing up for it? Do you really want to go into space for a husband?”

She shrugged, her dark brown hair bounced on her shoulders. “It’s a small town. Be honest, we don’t have too many prospects here, and I need the money.” She pressed a piece of paper into my hand. “Here. All males are vetted. It is 100% safe.”

Without looking at the paper, I pushed it into the pocket of my coat. “I don’t know. I don’t like the idea of someone buying you. It seems kinda weird.”

“It’s not. It’s like a mail-order bridal service.”

“Doesn’t sound that way to me.”

“It’s what I want. I won’t be in for my next shift. Mr. Johnson knows.”

“You’re really leaving.”

“I am.”

“If you’re happy, then I’m happy.” I gave Sarah a quick smile. “Go on, hurry up and get home where it’s warm, the temperature is plummeting. I can make it the rest of the way by myself. Take the shortcut.”

“You’re the best Summer. I’ll miss you.” She wrapped her arms around me in a tight hug. “Don’t resign yourself to living in the shadows. I hope you live up to your name and share your sunshine with the galaxy.”

“We’ll see,” I said. “I’ll miss you too.” I gave her one last squeeze and watched as my friend disappeared down the block.

My legs ached as I walked the last few blocks to my house. I was grateful Mr. Johnson had given me this job after my accident. He knew I couldn’t do the heavy lifting involved with stocking shelves, so he hired me knowing my sole responsibility would be manning the register. Sometimes I wished I didn’t have to stand so much, putting stress on my leg.

I pulled my navy blue peacoat closer to me to try to stave off the wind from the evening chill. Winter could be harsh in New Hampshire, especially before the snow fell. I worked hard, but the job didn’t pay too much. It was just a small mom-and-pop shop, more of a general store. It sold all sorts of items to the villagers, and over the years the community grew close. In the winter, however, the store tended to rely on tourism to stay afloat.

It felt weird to be back here after a few years on my own. When David and I left, I missed the town and my family. Though I was glad to be back with my family, I wished it wasn’t because of the accident. I needed to be around people who had known me, who wouldn’t be scared of me or the scars, both internal and external, I carried. I didn’t want to be treated differently, but people I’d known my entire life still treated me as if I were made of glass.

I didn’t like the looks of pity that crossed their faces when I saw them. Of course, I heard their whispers after my mother and father had nursed me back to health. Mr. Johnson was the only kind soul in town who was willing to give me a job. Granted, the job required me to stand on my feet and my back and legs ached at the end of each of my shifts, but it wasn’t strenuous, and he knew that if I had an issue I would try to work through the pain. Tim, the manager of our local bar, donated one of the old stools from a renovation to Mr. Johnson and his store for me, so I could sit or lean on the stool during my shift if the need arose, though I hardly used it. I didn't like to appear weak. Sometimes I felt that way, especially when cold weather came on.

I tilted my head towards the sky and sniffed the air. Based on my body’s reaction to the scent in the sky, I knew if snow fell during the night, I would have to call out of work. There was no way I could walk to the store with my back and my legs seized in pain. My father had been in the accident too, except he was older and not in as good of shape. He hadn’t been wearing his seatbelt and had not recovered as fast as I had.

My mother had been forced to quit her job to stay home and nurse both of us back to health. My older brother, Darren, worked in the mill on weekends. He supplemented his income with factory jobs or other part-time seasonal work, but still our family still lived paycheck to paycheck. At the ripe age of twenty-seven years old, I never thought I would be living in my parents house, in my childhood room, sharing with my two younger sisters, but this was my life now.

I needed to save money and strike out on my own again. I liked my cashier job well enough. It was a far cry from my dreams of being a professional dancer and owning my own studio with a friend I’d made when I first left home. Together, we’d purchased a small studio and gave dance lessons to different age groups. After the accident, we’d grown apart, and when I realized I would never again dance like I used to, I signed ownership of the studio to her. I couldn’t leap through the air performing ballet. Thinking about hip hop dancing made my knees hurt, but I decided that I would recover.

If I were to ever get married again, I wanted to have one dance with my new husband at our wedding.

I wished that I would find someone who cared about me like my mother cared about my father, but our town was small. I’d grown up with almost all the eligible men who lived here. Some were great to be friends with. Others were best ignored. My choices were slim. I could always marry my high school bully. He proposed three times after the accident because he said it would be great to have me stay at home serving his every need. I didn’t want that for myself. That attitude contributed to why I left in the first place. I couldn’t fault Sarah for choosing freedom.

My steps faltered the closer I got to home. My knees didn’t want to bend in the cold, and my back throbbed. I hoped my mother would still be awake for one of my sisters when I got home. I wanted to lay down and put a heating pad on my back.

The wind whistled through my coat, and I hurried as fast as I could into the safety and warmth of our house. My feet slowed on the steps, and it took me longer than it should have to walk up the six steps into our home. Most of the lights were off, probably a money-saving measure. When I entered the house, I heard my father speak, his rumbling voice coming from the kitchen.

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