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Sealed Forever

Sourcebooks, Inc.

It is said that if you know your enemies and know yourself, you will not be imperiled in a hundred battles; if you do not know your enemies but do know yourself, you will win one and lose one; if you do not know your enemies nor yourself, you will be imperiled in every single battle.

— Sun Tzu, The Art of War

Everything was okay until Bronwyn saw white satin wedding decorations draping the curved staircase in the entry hall of her friend's ancestral home — and if not precisely okay, then manageable. She wasn't sure she ever expected to be okay again.

Although to tell the truth, even manageable was an overstatement. JJ, Bronwyn's best friend, wanted Bronwyn at her side when she married, reason enough to come to North Carolina at a moment's notice, but on her best days, Bronwyn was a white-knuckle flier. The doctor, whose ability to remain calm in the ER was legendary, became one quivering nerve the second she felt the plane's cabin pressurize.

To get here, she had had to pull back-to-back shifts — the only way she could get another resident to trade with her on a Thanksgiving weekend — packed an overnight bag, arrived at the airport only to find out the flight was delayed, and survived a flight so rough the seat belt sign had never turned off and even the flight attendants had stayed buckled in for the entire trip from Baltimore to North Carolina.

Still, she'd been hanging on. She had gotten through the flight without breaking down by promising herself she could relax when she got to JJ's grandfather's great big mansion because the wedding would be small, and her part miniscule. No big deal. All that was expected of her was to stand beside JJ while a judge read the wedding ceremony and then shake hands with a few people afterward. And since there was about as much romance in her friend's decision to marry a Navy SEAL as there was in the average car rental agreement, Bronwyn hadn't thought there would be any reason to brace herself against an onslaught of emotion.

But then she had blown through the front door — literally — pushed by a wet gust of the same tropical storm that caused the rough flight.

In the soaring, classically proportioned entry hall, where the Waterford chandelier was already lit to dispel the gloom of the day, the elegantly curved staircase had been embellished with white satin swags caught up at intervals with nosegays of burgundy roses interspersed with tiny tea light roses and delicate baby's breath.

The newel posts were flanked by towering arrangements of the same flowers in priceless Limoges vases. Branches of candles on tall stands waited to be lit. The staircase, the whole entry, had been decorated to frame a bride's dramatic descent.

The setting spoke of tenderness and elegance and gaiety and so much damn hope.

She wasn't braced. The bottom dropped out of Bronwyn's stomach. Her knees threatened to buckle.

She loved JJ with her whole heart. She would do anything in the world for her. But she was very afraid she had just run into the one thing she could not do — act the part of the happy bridesmaid.

Still, she was here for JJ, and somehow, despite exhaustion that made her feel like she was trapped in quicksand, despite thoughts of Troy and what might have been, she had to keep hanging on.

"Was the flight horrible?" Beautiful JJ excused herself from the teenaged boy she had been talking to and rushed forward to envelop Bronwyn in a hug, the scalloped lace train of her white wedding dress belling behind her. "I'm so glad you're here, but I'm so sorry you had to fly in this weather."

Bronwyn and JJ didn't do air kisses, and they didn't do hugs where no body parts came into contact. When JJ's arms came around her, Bronwyn allowed her head to be pillowed by JJ's breast. JJ was as tall and voluptuous as Bronwyn was tiny and delicate. She and JJ had decided years ago that they could either live forever feeling awkward about hugs, or they could decide they were complete equals, the discrepancy in their size notwithstanding.

"Don't be silly." Bronwyn's eyes went hot with unshed tears — she was that happy to see JJ. This was the first time they'd been together since Troy's funeral. They had phoned and emailed, but it was not the same as being able to touch. "I would have come no matter what."

And she would have. When Bronwyn's fiancé died, her parents and brother had sent flowers and called to express their sympathy, but they hadn't been able to get away on such short notice. JJ was as busy as anyone since she was CEO of a large car dealership, but she had dropped everything to be at Bronwyn's side.

JJ had stayed with Bronwyn through the funeral and for several days afterward, putting food in front of her and telling her to eat it. Holding her through the nights.

"Oh, JJ." Bronwyn pulled away a little to look her friend full in the face. "You do look beautiful." She fingered the demure, white georgette with lace inserts on the old-fashioned wedding gown. "This dress is exquisite. Where did it come from? I thought you were going to wear a suit."

"You've heard me mention Mary Cole Sessoms?" JJ waved over a slender, sixtyish woman in a silvery dress.

"Mary Cole, this is Bronwyn Whitescarver, my BFF and my maid of honor." JJ turned back to Bronwyn.

"Mary Cole convinced me that I couldn't let the wedding look furtive — like I was ashamed of marrying a man no one's ever heard of. I'm not. I'm doing what's in the best interests of the most people. She wore this dress in 1967 at her own wedding. It's my 'something borrowed.'"

That explained the about-face on the subject of decorating the house as well as the dress, which was exquisite — even though it was not JJ's taste. It was the first demure thing Bronwyn had ever seen JJ wear. It worked, though. On JJ's voluptuous curves, the innocent sensuality of a long-sleeved, high-necked dress that covered the arms and the dress's underlying décolleté with see-through georgette made restraint look regal.

"You look lovely in it. But my pantsuit ..." Bronwyn indicated her gray slacks and jacket, the slacks rain-darkened from the knee down where her raincoat's protection had ended. "This is all I have to wear."

Mary Cole held out a hand. "Come upstairs with me. I've brought several of my daughter Pickett's dresses. She's petite like you. Now that I look at your beautiful dark red hair and white skin, I think I have the perfect dress for you."

Judging by the dress JJ was wearing, Bronwyn doubted it. Large, wide-set eyes the reddish-brown color of fine cognac dominated her face and made people assume she was much younger than her years. But even when one took time to look closely, her straight little nose and sweetly shaped lips that hooked upward at the corners made her look heartbreakingly innocent and benign. She despised being described as waif-like, but with the weight she'd lost in the last several months, her eyes seemed even huger, her pale skin looked even more colorless. The small bones stuck out at her elbows and wrists. The truth was, these days waif-like fit her. If Mary Cole wanted her to wear a dress like JJ's, she would look about twelve. At least in the gray pantsuit she looked like a grown-up.

JJ caught her in another quick hug. "I'm so glad you're here." She used the hug to put her lips against Bronwyn's ear. "Trust Mary Cole. You can talk to her," she whispered. "She knows everything.

It pays to be a winner.

— SEAL saying

"You arrived in the nick of time," Mary Cole said over her shoulder as she led Bronwyn up the stairs. "The best man — he's a SEAL, too — he's already given up part of his leave to go home to see his family. He has a plane to catch — being the holiday and all, it was the only flight he could get when he changed his tickets — and we were wondering if we'd have to start the ceremony without you. JJ asked me if I'd fill in, but I'm so pleased you arrived — I know she really wanted you."

Mary Cole's tide of social patter floated Bronwyn up the stairs and into the guest bedroom that had been set up as a changing room, smoothing Bronwyn's awkwardness at being the last to arrive while gently and skillfully filling her in on all she needed to know.

"I didn't expect to need a bridesmaid dress," she told Mary Cole as soon as the guest room door closed. "Being out of touch for the last forty-eight hours seems to have put me completely out of the loop. What's the game plan?"

"I'm sorry you were caught unawares. Blame it on me. I persuaded JJ that her plan to be married with no frills at all was a mistake. People are going to talk about anything she does. She needs to set the stage for them to say what she wants them to. That being the case, there wasn't time to arrange a big, important wedding, so we're going for intimate, elegant simplicity. With the emphasis on family, rather than social relationships."

"All right. And what is the official story?"

"JJ and Davy felt an instant attraction when they met a year ago — at my daughter's wedding — but their careers came between them. When they accidentally met again — this time at my daughter's best friend's wedding — they realized their feelings hadn't changed. Davy's injury has taught them that life is short. They shouldn't put off being together any longer.

"But his mother recently died, and he's still recovering from his wounds — a great, big weeklong affair with an unending succession of parties isn't something he's physically or emotionally up to. They only want to be married in the company of their loved ones."

"Wow. That's really romantic! And touching." But it didn't sound like JJ. "Who came up with that?"

"I did."

"From what JJ's told me about you — what a clear-eyed businesswoman you are and how much she values your opinion — I wouldn't have figured you for a romantic."

Mary Cole accepted the implied compliment with an inclination of her skillfully tinted blonde head. "Mentoring JJ has been incredibly rewarding — she has the right instincts, and she's had good training. She doesn't need someone to teach her how to succeed in business. The main help I can offer her is that I see the big picture."

"Okay. Just so I don't get tripped up, who knows the other story?"

Mary Cole's eyebrows rose in polite puzzlement.

"There is no other story. You are not surprised because you, being JJ's closest friend, thought all along that they were perfect for each other."

Mary Cole's revisionist history was a little hard to swallow. In point of fact, Bronwyn had advised JJ not to marry anyone and instead to tell her grandfather — the one pushing the marriage — to shove it. "Oh. Then you think she's doing the right thing — to get married just to save the business?"

"A mentor guides. She doesn't choose the path."

Having a mentor was one of the few things about JJ that Bronwyn had ever envied. Her own path would have entailed less floundering and fewer costly mistakes if she had had a guide. Bronwyn had become a doctor in spite of all the advice she had received.

Bronwyn jerked her thoughts from contemplating the difference a mentor, rather than naysayers, could have made for her. She and Mary Cole both had roles to play in supporting JJ, and there was a wedding to get under way. "What do you need me to do?"

Mary Cole went to the closet. She came back with a slim, empire-waist, evening dress of deep forest-green. "I brought several dresses. Do you want to try them all on, or in the interest of time, will you trust me?"

"I'll put myself in your hands." Bronwyn tossed her raincoat on the bed and began to shuck her suit jacket. "I don't have much fashion sense. In college, JJ took me in hand, but I'm afraid I have backslid. I wear scrubs at work and jeans the rest of the time."

Mary Cole managed to frown in disapproval and keep a pleasant smile going at the same time — a trick Bronwyn would love to master. "A professional woman needs to know how to dress. Times have changed, but women still need every edge to get ahead. I thought JJ told me both your parents were doctors. Didn't your mother teach you?"

"She didn't have a lot of time. She had a personal shopper who came to the house with preselected clothes for both of us." Bronwyn had already been on such thin ice with her mother that, rather than demanding the chance to express her own taste, she had accepted whatever the shopper chose. And for a person who had as much trouble fitting in as Bronwyn did, clothes that expressed little individuality were probably for the best.

Mary Cole forbore to comment on what she obviously thought was parental neglect. (Bronwyn guessed that Mary Cole's daughters had felt her guiding hand in everything.) Instead, she changed the subject. "JJ tells me you've almost finished your residency. When you're done, do you plan to stay in the Baltimore area?"

"I don't know yet. I have a provisional offer from one of the busiest inner-city hospital ERs. The experience I would gain there would look great on my curriculum vitae."

"You sound lukewarm."

"It gets harder and harder to be enthusiastic. The more successful I am at getting patients in and out in a hurry, the less I'm the kind of doctor I want to be. If I had another way to pay back the money I borrowed to go to med school, I'd quit."

Bronwyn unbuttoned her blouse. When she was down to her panties and camisole, she thought of a possible snag. "Am I going to need a bra for that dress?"

Bronwyn's small, firm breasts rarely needed a bra, and she certainly didn't have a strapless one with her.

"No. The bra is built in." Mary Cole held out the green dress. She discreetly averted her eyes while Bronwyn pulled the camisole over her head. "Hold up your arms. I'll drop the dress over your head."

The cool silk of the dress slithered over Bronwyn's torso and legs to the floor. She lifted the skirt. "This is beautiful. Please thank your daughter for letting me borrow it."

"I brought this, even though the deep olive green is difficult to wear, because it's the least formfitting. You're about the same height as my daughter Pickett but much more slender. She said if you liked it, you could have it. She's pregnant and doubts if she'll ever wear it again."

Mary Cole moved behind Bronwyn to do up the lacing of the bodice. "I've lost trust in medicine as it is commonly practiced, myself." Expert tugs accompanied the older woman's words. "My youngest daughter, the one who donated this dress, suffered — she essentially lost her teenage years — because no doctor listened to her or observed her long enough to get down to the cause of her symptoms. She had celiac disease. We spent thousands for tests that all came back negative until — despite the evidence in front of our eyes — even she believed nothing was really wrong, and if she'd just try harder she could be better. Doctors either told me not to worry or implied I caused her problems by expecting too much."

"How's she doing now?"

Mary Cole's lips twisted in a wry smile. "I'm the one with the problem now. She says she's fine, but after ten years of being anxious about her, of feeling like I was failing as a mother but not knowing what to do, I can't stop worrying about her. I drive her crazy. She tries not to let it show, but I can tell she avoids me."

"And now she's pregnant and you worry even more," Bronwyn guessed. "That must be hard. I can tell you love her very much."

"I do." Mary Cole's eyes narrowed as if she was deep in thought. "And I'm beginning to understand what JJ has told me about you. If you could be the doctor you want to be — if you had a way to practice the medicine you want to and pay off your medical school debts, but it meant leaving Baltimore — would that tempt you?"

Bronwyn's knees nearly buckled. She rarely told anyone about the hundreds of thousands she owed. People assumed that because both her parents were well-known doctors, her tuition had been taken care of, and explaining that her parents had put her brother, Landreth, through med school but not her took too long and left her needing to explain more of her family dynamics than she cared to reveal in casual conversation.

JJ knew everything, of course, and she must have told Mary Cole. Bronwyn appreciated Mary Cole's interest, but trying to act like there was hope, when she had none, exhausted her. "No offense, but I don't think there is a way. Any practice I join, it will be the same story —"

"Don't answer yet!" Mary Cole cut her off. "It's just an idea, and we don't have time to go into it now. We'll talk later." She stood back and looked Bronwyn up and down. Her eyes widened, and her lips rounded in surprise.

"Oh, my."

"Can I come in?" JJ stuck her head around the door and caught sight of Bronwyn. She sucked in a breath.

"Oh, my."

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Excerpted from Sealed Forever by Mary Margret Daughtridge. Copyright © 2011 Mary Margret Daughtridge. Excerpted by permission of Sourcebooks, Inc..
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