The lake sparkled like cut diamonds as Brad rode his Harley into the town of Lake Howling. His gaze switched to the line of the tall Redwood trees that framed the main street and towered over the quaint shops beneath.
Picturesque was probably the best description, he thought, reducing his speed as he rolled slowly down the main street. It was busy, but he found a gap and parked before a café called the Hoot. Swinging a leg over the seat, Brad then removed his helmet. Stretching, he felt his muscles sigh as he straightened after hours of riding.
“Nice bike.”
“Thanks.” Brad nodded to the man now standing before him. He had a head full of snow-white hair, wore a neat, pale blue suit, and looked a little overdressed for window shopping.
“You here for the wedding?”
“No.” Brad pocketed his key and now understood the suit. “Just passing through.”
The man chuckled, a surprisingly deep sound for the size of him.
“Son, there’s only one road in and out of Howling, so it’s not really the place to pass through on the way to anywhere.”
Brad didn’t want to get into why he was here; he wasn’t entirely sure he knew the answer to that himself.
“I can’t stop to chat, I'm late. I had to hurry home and take my medication, which I forgot this morning. Don't want my heart to give out during the service.”
Brad had no answer to that so he nodded.
“Can't let Annabelle down, so I better get a move on.”
“Annabelle?”
“Annabelle and Ethan. They're getting married today, and by the sound of you, I think you should be attending too, young man.”
“Why do you say that?” Brad had arrived the day his brother was getting married. What were the chances?
“You have the look of Ethan, and there's that drawl too.”
“True, and yes I am related to him, but I hadn't realized today was his wedding.”
“Walt Heath.” The man stuck out his hand.
“Brad Gelderman.”
“The invite must have got lost in the post, or maybe the e-mail’s still sitting in your spam folder.”
“Highly possible,” Brad said, not surprised the man knew about spam folders. His eyes were sharp.
“Well then, let's go.”
“Go?”
“To the wedding, boy. Hustle along now, I'm already late.”
And just like that, Brad found himself walking beside Walt Heath down the street to where the little white church stood at the end.
“You're definitely a big one like your brother.”
“I didn't say I was his brother.”
“I know who you are, boy.”
Brad lengthened his stride to keep up with the man. Half a head shorter, he was outpacing him.
“Ethan talked about me?”
“Annabelle is kind of a surrogate daughter to my wife and me.”
Not his brother then.
“I'm not really dressed for a wedding, Mr. Heath.”
“From what I've noticed, Brad, anything goes these days. Now pick up that pace a bit, I can hear the ‘Wedding March’ starting.”
He'd travelled a lot in the last two years, been in dangerous situations, slept rough, but nothing terrified Brad more than the prospect of stepping into that church and witnessing the man he'd once called brother marry. A man he hadn't seen in two years, and then it had been an angry, aggressive confrontation.
“It's time, Brad.”
“For what?” They'd stopped at the bottom step.
“For you to make the first move.”
“How do you know that?”
The old man smiled. “I know things, boy. Now up you go, and I'll be behind you.”
He felt it again, the crippling uncertainty of his teenage years, the need to be accepted and loved.
“You got this, son.”
“It sure as hell doesn’t feel like it.”
With another chuckle, Walt Heath gave him a firm shove that had him moving. Sucking in a deep breath, Brad wondered if he was about to ruin his brother's wedding day.