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Red, White and Blue Weddings: Red Like Crimson, White as Snow, Out of the Blue

Janice Thompson




  Red, White and Blue Weddings

  Three Inspirational Romances Set in Pennsylvania:

  Red Like Crimson

  White as Snow

  Out of the Blue

  By

  Janice Thompson

  Red Like Crimson

  By

  Janice Thompson

  Red Like Crimson

  Copyright © 2015 by Janice Thompson. All rights reserved. Except for use in any review, the reproduction or utilization of this work in whole or in part in any form by any electronic, mechanical, or other means, now known or hereafter invented, is forbidden without the permission of the author.

  All scripture quotations, unless otherwise indicated, are taken from the Holy Bible, new International Version ©, NIV©, Copyright © 1973, 1978, 1984 by International Bible Society. Used by permission of Zondervan. All rights reserved.

  All of the characters and events in this book are fictitious. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or to actual events is purely coincidental.

  Table of Contents

  Prologue

  Chapter One

  Chapter Two

  Chapter Three

  Chapter Four

  Chapter Five

  Chapter Six

  Chapter Seven

  Chapter Eight

  Chapter Nine

  Chapter Ten

  Chapter Eleven

  Chapter Twelve

  Chapter Thirteen

  Chapter Fourteen

  Chapter Fifteen

  Chapter Sixteen

  Chapter Seventeen

  Chapter Eighteen

  Chapter Nineteen

  Chapter Twenty

  Chapter Twenty-One

  Chapter Twenty-Two

  Epilogue

  OTHER BOOKS IN THE SERIES:

  White as Snow

  Out of the Blue

  Dedication

  To all of the “Lattes” of the world: Your true Daddy loves you. . .always.

  PROLOGUE

  Virginia Beach

  The small linen envelope contained a simple “Dear John” letter. Nothing more. So why did Adrianne’s hands tremble as she slipped it underneath the door? Why did she struggle to press down the accompanying lump in her throat?

  Surely in her three years at the university, she’d faced tougher writing assignments than this brief, handwritten note. Last week’s philosophy paper, for example. And the term paper for her Humanities class last spring. Yes, she had certainly completed lengthier projects. But never one more personal.

  Adrianne stood and brushed her palms against her jeans, as if by doing so she could wash this whole, ugly thing from her memory before turning and walking away.

  And yet it hadn’t all been ugly, had it? She allowed her mind to visit the hidden places as she eased away from the door. No, most parts of it had been wonderful. Completely wonderful. Even pure. But somewhere along the way, things had taken an ugly turn, and reality had come around full circle.

  Now she must face facts, though facing them surely meant releasing every dream she’d ever held tucked away in the recesses of her heart. She couldn’t stay. Not one day more, in fact, even if it meant leaving college in the middle of the semester.

  As Adrianne inched her way along the corridor, she tried to avoid the eyes of fellow students passing by. Many laughed and talked together. Their voices layered on top of each other, creating a cacophony of sounds, much like a symphony coming into tune. Such chaos among the students she had grown to expect, even appreciate. But one voice she could not squelch.

  “Come now, and let us reason together. . . .”

  The all too familiar words from the Bible she had loved since childhood rose to the surface again, and the lump in her throat became unbearable.

  “I’ve spent all morning reasoning,” she whispered to the skies. “I’ve tried to be logical. But, Lord, surely You can see this is the only way.”

  “Though your sins are like scarlet. . .”

  A cool breeze whipped through the courtyard outside the dormitory, not unusual for early autumn in Virginia Beach. The leaves, in varying shades of red and gold, rippled through tree branches overhead, as if begging to be released. She understood their pain.

  At that moment, a light breeze caused many to tumble down in colorful array. A sign, perhaps, that moving on— letting go—was the better choice?

  “Oh, Lord. I’m so sorry. So very, very sorry.” She closed her eyes and whispered a good-bye to Virginia Beach. In just a few short hours she would return home—to Philadelphia. For good. There, much like those fallen leaves, she would face the cold, hard reality of winter, and would surely come to terms with the consequences of her sins.

  “Though they are red like crimson. . .”

  Adrianne stopped walking and stood a moment in silence— wanting to look back, and yet knowing she could only move forward.

  If only her heart would move forward with her.

  ONE

  Philadelphia, eight years later

  Adrianne rushed around the apartment in a tizzy. “Have you seen my shoe?” she called out. “I’m missing my right shoe!”

  Her daughter appeared at the bedroom door with a comical look on her face. The vivacious seven-year-old dangled a dainty black pump from her fingertip. “You lose everything, Mom.” She rolled her eyes, but Adrianne noticed a twinkle there.

  “I know, I know.” Adrianne pushed aside the wispy strands of her daughter’s light brown hair to the side as she reached to plant a kiss on her forehead. “You’re the mother and I’m the daughter. Right?”

  “No way!” Lorelei’s face erupted in a smile and her green eyes danced with mischief. “I want to be the kid. I don’t want to have to go to work.” She passed off the shoe, then sprang onto the bed.

  Adrianne gazed into her daughter’s face with the most serious expression she could muster. “School is better then?”

  Lorelei nodded, eyes widening. “Indubitably.”

  “Indubitably?” Adrianne repeated the word, to make sure she’d heard it correctly. “Since when do you use words like indubitably?”

  “Grandma says it all the time.”

  “And you’re using it in context. Not bad for a seven-year-old.”

  Lorelai gave a little bow, clearly proud of her efforts.

  Adrianne hopped up and down in an attempt to get the wayward shoe into place. Once she had it secured on her foot, she glanced up at the mirror above the oak dresser. “Oh, my hair. It looks awful.” She attempted to press the dark curls into place with her fingertips, but, as always, her unruly hair had a mind of its own and would not cooperate.

  Before another word could be spoken, Lorelei bounded from the bed and handed her the hairbrush. “Your hair is so pretty, Mom.” The little darling let out an exaggerated sigh, one Adrianne had grown to anticipate during such mother-daughter conversations. “I wish my hair was gorgeous like yours.”

  Lorelei joined her at the mirror, mother and daughter now standing side-by-side, staring at the glass. “Better be careful what you wish for.” Adrianne spoke to her daughter’s reflection as she pulled the brush through her unruly curls. “I used to wish for a little girl. And look what I got. . . .”

  “The best kid in the world!” Lorelei hollered out.

  “Puh-leeze!” Tossing the brush aside, Adrianne reached over to tickle her precocious daughter, and they both broke into raucous laughter. Seconds later, the neighbor from the apartment next door banged on the wall.

  “Enough, already!”
Mr. Sanderson hollered out, his voice somewhat muffled through the thin layer of sheetrock. “I’m trying to sleep over here. Don’t you people ever stop?”

  With a finger to her lips, Adrianne led her daughter from the room, tiptoeing all the way. They gathered up their belongings and headed out of the apartment to face the day.

  Moments later, they stood at the bus stop together, waiting for the school bus to arrive. In the field to her right, the first fall leaves had tumbled to the ground. Adrianne closed her eyes a moment, remembering another autumn, years ago. “Though your sins are like scarlet. . .”

  “Mom, I’m c–cold.” Lorelei spoke through chattering teeth.

  Adrianne snapped to attention and buttoned her daughter’s jacket, then wrapped her in a warm embrace. “Is that better?”

  “Mm-hmm.”

  At this point, Adrianne released her hold, opting for a game of distraction, one they often played together on mornings like this. “Name five great things about living in Philadelphia,” she coached.

  “That’s easy.” Lorelei giggled. “Philly cheese steak.”

  “Philly cheese steak tops your list?”

  “Mm-hmm. And the Liberty Bell.”

  “Good girl. What else?”

  The youngster’s nose wrinkled. “Grandma and Grandpa.”

  “Naturally. Although, your grandmother will be devastated to learn she’s so far down on the list. What else? Or should I say who else. . . ?”

  “You.”

  “I was beginning to wonder if you’d forgotten about me.” Adrianne glanced at her watch. 7:34? If the bus didn’t come soon, she would be late for work. “Name one more thing.”

  A pensive look crossed the youngster’s face, followed by a shrug. “I don’t know, Mom. I can’t think of anything else.”

  “Excuse me?” Adrianne crossed her arms and presented her most serious face. “You can’t think of anything else about living in Philadelphia, Pennsylvania—the very birthplace of freedom?”

  Lorelei shrugged.

  “Let me see if I can refresh your memory then.” Adrianne slipped into teacher mode. “One of our country’s founding fathers once lived in this very spot.” She pressed a hand to her heart, feeling the swell of patriotism.

  “Mom, puh-leeze!”

  Undeterred, Adrianne carried on. “He was a printer, a postmaster, and an inventor. Some claim that he discovered electricity by flying a kite in a storm. He signed both the Declaration of Independence and the Constitution of the United States.” Adrianne’s shoulders rose in pride. Her voice intensified as she finished. “And your mother currently works as a curator at the museum named in his honor.”

  “I know, I know.” Lorelei’s eyes narrowed as she gave the matter some thought. “The Ben Franklin Museum.”

  “The Franklin Institute, to be precise,” Adrianne admonished.

  Lorelei groaned, clearly tired of this part of the game. “You tell me all the time.”

  “And I’ll go on telling you, too. Until you remember every detail. If you can use the word indubitably in context, surely you can handle a few history lessons from your old mom.”

  “You? Old?” Lorelai giggled. “Not!”

  At that very moment, the bus arrived. Adrianne reached to give her daughter a peck on the cheek, then the youngster climbed aboard en route to school.

  Not one minute too soon. With no time to spare, Adrianne settled into her car and headed downtown. As she drew close to the familiar museum, excitement grew. She had adored this place since childhood. She loved the artifacts, the paintings, and the clothing displays. She loved the hustle and bustle of tourists as they made the rounds from one venue to the next, oohing and aahing over all of the wonderful things the museum had to offer.

  More than anything, she hoped to instill this same love for America’s rich history into her daughter. Whether the little monster wanted it or not.

  “Girl, you’re late!” Dani Jennings looked up from her paperwork with a scolding smile as Adrianne entered the museum lobby.

  “I know, I know. Lorelei’s bus was late. Again.”

  Her petite coworker shrugged. “At least you don’t have to worry about Mr. Martinson chewing you out. He thinks you hung the moon.”

  “Hardly.”

  “One of these days he will retire and you’ll be senior curator. Wait and see.” Dani winked.

  Adrianne tried to suppress a smile. Perhaps one day soon she would work her way up the ladder. For now, she was plenty happy to carry on as an associate. Thrilled, in fact.

  “What does the morning look like?” Adrianne stepped behind the counter and noticed a stack of papers.

  “Quite a few tour groups, but Joey is here. So’s Brenna. A school bus just pulled up with fifty third-graders.”

  “Saw that.” Adrianne shuffled through the papers on the top of the stack, noting several RSVPs for the upcoming fundraising banquet.

  Dani continued on, oblivious. “We’ve got a private group coming in at ten thirty. A wedding party. They’ll be lunching at the bistro afterward. They’ve already placed their order.”

  “Ah. Okay.” What was it, though, about the words wedding party that brought a sigh to Adrianne’s lips?

  “For the life of me,” Dani went on, “I don’t understand all of these wedding groups coming through. As much as I love this place, I can’t imagine bringing my bridesmaids to a museum as a form of pre-wedding entertainment. I can think of a thousand other places I’d take them, but. . .a museum?”

  Adrianne offered up a shrug. “Oh, I don’t know. It’s something fun to do together.” And why not? Usually, the bride or groom hailed from the Philadelphia area and simply wanted to show off the historic aspects of the city he or she loved. Nothing wrong with that.

  “I’m just saying that if I had a life outside of the things of the past”—Dani gestured to the inner sanctum of the museum—“I’d stick to the present. Especially on the week of my wedding.”

  If I had a life outside of the past. . .Hmm.

  Dani turned her attention to the school group. Adrianne shrugged off her friend’s words and headed to her office, where she dove into her paperwork with a vengeance. She would sooner do anything than focus on the past, today of all days.

  To Adrianne’s amazement, the morning flew by. She spent a little time looking over plans to update the Wright Brothers display, and then telephoned the professional party planner she’d hired to take care of the upcoming fundraising banquet.

  In the midst of that conversation, Dani appeared at her office door, breathless. “Adrianne, I hate to interrupt, but this is important.”

  Adrianne looked up from the phone and, with a raised index finger, whispered, “Just a minute.” She finished the call, then turned to face Dani head-on. “What’s up?”

  Her friend’s pretty blue eyes sparkled and the pitch of her voice rose as she shared her news. “Mr. Kenner is here to talk to you about the consultation grant.”

  “Ooh!” Adrianne gasped. “You’re kidding. I didn’t expect him till next week.”

  “I know. But he says you’re going to want to talk to him now.” Dani’s face broadened in a smile. “Sounds like good news.”

  Adrianne felt her heart rate quicken. Perhaps her most recent prayers for the museum had truly been answered. “I sure hope you’re right.” She fumbled with her purse, reaching for the tube of lipstick. “I’ll be there in just a minute.”

  She pulled open a compact and dabbed on the rosy-colored lipstick, then sprinted in the direction of the meeting room at the back of the museum. As she rounded the corner just beyond the electricity display, she ran headlong into Joey, who happened to be leading the bridal party tour.

  “I’m so sorry.” She offered up a shrug. “Going too fast for my own good.”

  “Not a problem.” Joey flashed a broad smile and gestured to the group, his spiked blond hair standing at attention. “But let me introduce you to these fine people.”

  Adrianne drew in a br
eath, a little frustrated at the interruption. What should she do about Mr. Kenner, who waited in the meeting room? For weeks, she’d awaited news from him, and now he waited on her. She didn’t want to keep him long, not with so much at stake.

  “Ladies and gentlemen,” Joey spoke with flair, “I’d like to introduce one of our most admired curators, Adrianne Russo. She’s been with the museum for four years, and has made improvements to several of our displays, including the one you’re viewing right now.”

  She took note of the words most admired with a sigh, and then looked across the group of people with a rehearsed smile. Which one was the bride? Ah. The one with the glow on her face. And the groom must be the one to her right with his arm around her waist. A cluster of lovely bridesmaids stood nearby and. . .

  She glanced to her left to take in the group of groomsmen. Her gaze ran from one young man to the next, finally landing on the taller one at the end of the line.

  As their eyes met, Adrianne’s heart flew into her throat. For a moment, she could scarcely catch her breath.

  No! Not here. Not like this!

  From just a few short yards away, the man she had once loved more than life itself stared back in stunned silence. And in that moment, eight years of unspoken words traveled between them.

  TWO

  Christopher stared at Adrianne in disbelief. Except for the length of her dark brown curls and the uncharacteristic professional attire, she looked every bit as she had the day he’d seen her last.

  Virginia Beach. Eight years ago. Eight years of questioning, wondering, worrying. Eight years of trying to figure out if his actions had driven her to leave town, with no notice other than a note under his door.

  “I—I. . .” Adrianne’s face paled and she turned away from the group and sprinted down the hallway.

  Christopher pulled away from the rest of his group and followed after her, unable to still the hammering of his heart.