Page 7 of Harrison Hyde and the Runaway Bride

“Sorry I ruined it,” she said.

“That’s okay. I can just drop you off in the next town and resume my?—”

“Drop me off? You’re gonna drop me off? What am I, a stray dog? You’re just fixin’ to dump me someplace to fend for myself in my torn-up weddin’ dress on my destroyed weddin’ day?”

“I— you changed clothes.”

“I don’twantto be dropped off. Iwantto go to Silver City.”

“To the demo site?”

“No, not to the demo site. To my honeymoon destination, the Silver Springs Resort and Spa. I have the tickets right in my bag. I’m not fixin’ to let ’em go to waste. And you’re headin’ right there anyway! Now quit gawkin’ at me. You’re fixin’ to miss the turn.”

He looked at the road again and made the turn in time.

“We hit the highway in five miles,” she said. “Then, tacos, as promised. I’m starved.”

“Okay.”

“Okay.” She reached up and turned the radio back on. An old country song was playing, and she nodded. “At least you have good taste in music.”

“That’s the only station I’ve been able to pull in for the past forty miles.”

CHAPTER TWO

The place with the best tacos in Texas was a Cantina called Manuel’s. Harrison knew that because it was painted on a big wooden sign atop the brown adobe building. CANTINA MANUEL, it said in green lettering outlined in black.

They entered through batwing doors. The place wasn’t busy in the middle of a Saturday afternoon, but it was open. The inside was painted with green, white, and red, the familiar colors of the Mexican flag. A lone man sat at a table with a nearly empty bottle and a half-full glass in front of him. He was white, his bushy beard was blond, and he wore a sombrero and a woven poncho. He sat so low in his chair, Harrison wondered if he was going to slide onto the floor. He looked as if he was melting in extreme slow motion.

A middle-aged Mexican couple sat at another table eating quesadillas. Regulars, he’d bet. They were dressed down, comfortable, making themselves at home. The happiness between them was palpable in the way they smiled into each other’s eyes. Harrison watched them for a moment. Maybe that was what he wanted.

For some reason he looked at Maria then shook his head. Not here, and not her, but thatkindof thing, like that couple had, and his mom and dad.

The fellow behind the counter had to be Manuel. “Hey, there, Maria Michele,” he said, not with the accent Harrison had expected. “I thought you were gettin’ hitched today.”

“Didn’t go to plan, Manny. Didn’t go to plan.” Maria leaned over the bar, her cowboy boots on tiptoe, accentuating the curve of her backside, and said, “What I need to heal my broken heart are your amazing tacos for two.” She glanced over her shoulder at Harrison and winked.

He flinched as if the wink had struck him physically. What didthatmean? That wink? Did she think he’d been looking at her backside? Hehadbeen, but did she think it?

“Grab us a table,” she said. “I need the restroom.”

“Okay, sure.”

He found them a table and waited for her to come out of the restroom, feeling like a real jerk, because he was thinking about leaving her there. He wouldn’t ditch her without a word, of course, not after what she’d been through. He would just tell her flat-out that he had to continue this journey on his own. She could call someone to come and get her, or book a room for the night in the motel across the street. She’d be okay. She certainlyseemedokay.

Actually, he kept wonderingwhyshe seemed so okay. Surely, most women who’d found out on their wedding day that their intended was a violent waste of oxygen would be devastated. Wouldn’t they?

He thought the question toward his mother and waited for his brain to process the data and spit out an answer. Instead, he heard her soft laughter. And then she said,In your experience, sweetheart… how long was I sick?

“About nine weeks,” he said under his breath. He knew precisely the amount of time from when his mother had taken to her bed, unable to get up, to when she’d passed.

Eighteen monthsfloated through his mind.You only knew I was sick for those final nine weeks, when I couldn’t hide it anymore.Some of us don’t share our suffering.

“They say sharing it lightens the load.”

And I was going to lighten my load by shifting some of it onto my kids? Come on, Harrison. You know me better.

Manuel delivered a huge platter of tacos surrounded by sour cream and three bowls of salsa; green, yellow, and red. He set down a second platter full of celery, carrot sticks, and cherry tomatoes. “She okay?” he asked with a nod toward the restroom.

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