Love's Stormy Gale
highlight_author
Lynette Sowell
highlight_reads
19,4K
highlight_chapters
23
Prologue
“Two more weeks, and I’ll be Mrs. Robby O’Leary.” Olivia Shea twirled on the dais before the full-length mirror in the dress shop, loving the sheen of her satin wedding gown. It was the stuff of dreams, the embodiment of her own dream ever since she’d been a little girl. The ball-gown skirt billowed from her waist to a long train. She stopped the twirl and posed for her maid of honor. “So, Mag, what do you think?”
Maggie Donovan nodded, her smile stretching across her face. Mag had started her own fairytale life with her hero last year. “He’ll step right off the boat and sweep you up in his arms and carry you off.”
“Smelling of fish and three days without a shower? I don’t think so.” Olivia snorted at the idea but grinned anyway. “No sweeping until after he cleans up.”
At that, Maggie laughed and glanced down at her buzzing phone. “I need to take this. Then I get to cram into my gown.”
“Oh, stop. You’re gorgeous.” Olivia waved Maggie off as her friend stepped closer to the main door of the bridal shop. Olivia glanced past Maggie out the front window and took in the sight of the cobbled streets of downtown Fairport. Despite the weather, her heart warmed as the rain pounded the stones and the street and drummed on the buildings. Wind lashed at the branches of the elms surrounding Fairport Square. But the sun might as well have been out, shining down in its June summer glory.
No mere thunderstorm could have kept Olivia from one last fitting. Next week she’d meet the photographer for the formal portraits according to the schedule in her phone. Then the Saturday after that... No more stealing just one more kiss at the door when Robby dropped her off at her apartment after supper with his parents. Olivia felt a blush flow across her face. She ached for the security of Robby’s arms, even now. How long until his boat returned? If the weather wasn’t so bad today, she’d head over to the harbor and wait until she saw the Lady Jane chug home to port.
But she had too much to do before the wedding to spend time scanning a stormy horizon. Besides the wedding, they had to close on their house. Two bedrooms and a sun porch, with a yard big enough to need a riding lawn mower.
They’d weather this storm like any other. A nice payday would make their week of separation worth it.
The front door opened, filling the room with the sound of rain on pavement and a shot of humidity. Frances O’Leary, bundled in a raincoat and hat, burst into the tranquil store. Her umbrella was a twisted mass of nylon and metal. She cast it onto the floor.
“Frances, what’s wrong?” Olivia’s future mother-in-law had never attended one of Olivia’s dress fittings, and Olivia couldn’t imagine why the woman had ventured out today.
This afternoon Frances’s wrinkles looked as though someone had engraved her facial lines more deeply with a chisel. “Liv, something’s happened.”
Olivia’s heart broke out into an uneven gallop. She clutched at her chest. Seed pearls tickled her fingertips. The lacework alone had cost hundreds. Her fingers touched the beads, the sequins. “Did you hear from Robby?” She sounded like a stammering schoolgirl.
“It’s the Lady Jane.” Frances sank onto a nearby pink upholstered chair, oblivious to the rainwater puddling around her. “Didn’t you hear?”
“No, what’s going on?” Olivia moved her hands to her skirt. Despite herself, she gripped the soft fabric. She glanced at Maggie, heading back to where she stood on the dais.
“Oh, Liv.” Maggie gave a sob, then clamped her hand over her mouth. “That was Todd on the phone.”
“The distress signal was triggered early this morning. The Lady Jane’s been lost.” Frances spoke the words to the carpet in front of her.
Lost.
The word echoed into Olivia’s soul. Did that mean the men had no directions to guide them home? Lost could mean anything, as in, they could be found. Maybe once the weather cleared, they’d chart a course home. GPS could help locate anyone, anywhere.
“But the men?”
“The Coast Guard picked up only one survivor,” said Frances.
“Robby?” Breathe. Try to breathe.
Frances bowed her head. The woman’s unspoken answer ripped a scream from Olivia’s lips. She’d never heard a sound like that before. She sank down onto the billowing skirt. It would wrinkle, but it didn’t matter. Nothing did.
In the circle of Maggie’s arms, Liv buried her face on her friend’s shoulder and screamed again. “No, no, no!”
