Page 7 of The Runaway Bride of Blitzen Bay (Blitzen Bay)

Chapter Four

NASH

December 20

Blitzen Bay, California

“Yeah. Yes. Momm . . . Stop.”

My mom’s been nagging me for two months to go to my high school friend’s wedding. I wouldn’t even consider it if it were back in Dallas. I moved here to get away from everyone and everything I knew. I don’t miss anything about Dallas except my mom.

“Nash, the wedding’s under an hour from your house. I pulled it up on the Google maps. I’ll email it to you.”

Mom still thinks I’m a teenager. That’s the last time I spent any real time with her—back in high school when she did everything for me. Since I left for the army, I’ve seen her maybe once a year.

“I’m good with the maps, Momma.” I laugh to myself. “I promise I’ll try to make it down there.”

“I told Bitzy you were coming. They’ll have a place for you at the family table. It’s a very high-end wedding. He’s marrying a debutante from Georgia. If you don’t go, it will reflect badly on our entire family.”

Mom still lives in the suburb where I grew up. Most of the families have lived there for decades. Everyone knows everyone else’s business. She lives in constant fear that one of her kids will get a black mark from the neighborhood gossips.

“I will go for you. And that’s the only reason. I haven’t talked to Stevie since high school and that’s the way I prefer to keep it, but I will go to the wedding for you.”

“Thank you.” Her voice drops a few octaves. “It will do you good to get out of the house. I know it’s getting close to a year since your friend died. I worry about you.”

My heart stops for a second like it does every time she mentions him. Mikey will have been gone one year on the day of the wedding—one year since he ran into a tripwire in Afghanistan and blew himself up. I was right behind him. I remember pulling myself over to him—my knee mangled with shrapnel—just in time to see him take his last breath.

“Nash?”

“I’m fine,” I say. “I tell you that every time we talk. I’m fine.”

“Hrmpf.” It’s the sound she makes that means, “I’m right and you’re wrong, but I don’t want to waste any more of my precious time arguing with your hard head.”

“Are you coming back to Dallas for Christmas?”

She knows I’m not, but she thinks she can wear me down. A big family Christmas is the last thing I want right now. I need peace and quiet.

“I’m not going to make it this year. Maybe I’ll come in for Mother’s Day. You know that’s the most important holiday of the year.”

“You’re right about that, but I don’t want you to be alone for your first Christmas after retirement. I can come out there. Your brothers can fend for themselves.”

“I appreciate it, but I told you, I don’t even have a place to put you right now. My house is a disaster. Give me a year to fix it up and you can come next Christmas. We’ll have to get you some snow boots though. There’s already at least a foot on the ground.”

“I’m not sure why you want to live in that cold, but the pictures you tweeted me are really pretty.”

“Texted, Mom. I texted them to you. Tweeting is just on Twitter, remember?”

“You know I don’t understand technology, but however you do it, I like when you send me pictures. I’m going to have your nieces teach me how to do pictures so I can send you some of us at Christmas. And maybe we can even do that face-to-face thing.”

“FaceTime.”

“Right. I think the whole thing is kind of invasive, but it would be so nice to see your face again. I miss you.”

“I miss you, too.” I look at the time on my phone. It’s later than I thought. “Hey, I have to run into town for a bit. I need to get some more stuff for the house.”

“Okay, I’m going to start shopping for my boots today. And some warm socks and a snow jacket. I saw a pretty yellow coat in L.L. Bean’s catalog.”

“That sounds good, Momma. Send me pictures and sizes and I’ll order it all for you.”

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