When Love Unites

By Mary Gant Bell

Tricia’s life was in chaos. She had found the courage to break free from her sister’s control and desperately wanted a life of her own. Except now that she had it, she had no clue how to survive without help. The truth about how much her sister had done for her over the years smacked her right in the face.
Then she discovered a new purpose. One that could not only provide a focus for her own life, but help someone else in need, too. Finally, she had direction and purpose. And it was all because of Keith. Her first love.
He had given her life direction alright. The problem was that it was the wrong direction. Unfortunately, Tricia didn’t realize this before it was too late.
In a twist of fate, she literally falls into David’s lap. Could David be the man of her dreams? Or is he simply a way to learn how to live on her own? Could David help her eliminate Keith’s corruption from her life? Is that even what she really wants?

When Love Unites is book 2 of The When Series.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Lulu.com
• Release date: Mar 21, 2020
• ISBN: 9781678034177

Book preview

When Love

Unites

Chapter 1

Tricia stared at the envelope. She couldn’t bring herself to open it. The handwriting was as familiar as her own face. The lines and swirls matched the ones she practiced as a child. Matched them precisely. Its fine linen paper reminded her of her high school graduation announcement. Embossed wedding bells in the bottom left corner looked exactly like the ones she drew as a kid. Tricia knew if she brought it closer to her nose, it would smell like gardenias.

Why you crying? Keith asked as he opened the refrigerator door. I’m outta beer.

She wiped the tears away with the back of her hand and picked up her purse. I’ll get some now.

The envelope laid unopened on the table as she bolted out the door. Keith didn’t spare a glance for either of them. He could watch the game while he waited for her return regardless of what was inside that fancy envelope.

Tricia closed the apartment door and leaned against the side of the building. The sight of her sister’s elegant penmanship unnerved her, but she couldn’t pinpoint why. She hadn’t seen Greta in over eight months. And Tricia managed fine without her.

Then why am I standing against the wall fighting back tears just from the sight of her handwriting?

Scolding herself for crying, she started walking. She didn’t want Keith to be angry. He got irritated when he had to wait for his beer. It was a short walk to the convenience store. Tricia wasn’t allowed to take the car. Keith claimed the extra miles wore down the engine. He needed it to be reliable so he could get to work.

That’s what he told her anyway.

Except he didn’t have a job.

Tricia didn’t mind the exercise. It was only a few blocks, after all, and the weather was gorgeous. Besides, her sister had taught her that acts of kindness were foundational to relationships, especially marriages.

She was optimistic Keith would eventually propose to her. They hadn’t discussed it, but he spent most of his time at her apartment. She didn’t think he would do that if he wasn’t interested in her, if he didn’t think they had a future together.

Stepping over the vomit outside the door of the convenience store, she shuddered. This part of town was so different from where she used to live with her sister. She had been eager to move away from Greta, but forgot about the city’s underbelly. Selecting this apartment complex represented the first real adult decision Tricia had ever made on her own. Greta had always told her what to do. Greta knew how to research facts, explore options, and evaluate alternatives. Greta possessed many skills.

Tricia only made mistakes.

She paid for the beer and stepped into the sunshine. Tricia ignored the vulgarities expressed by the men on the corner. Maybe tomorrow she would offer to buy them a case of beer if they stopped making lewd comments when she walked past. With her luck, they’d make twice as many the next day hoping to get two cases out of the deal.

By the time Tricia arrived back at the apartment complex, the beer weighed more than a pile of fire wood. She thought about carrying the cans up the stairs one by one, but decided that many trips would be the end of her. Besides, Keith didn’t like to wait for his beer.

It never entered her mind to question why Keith hadn’t stopped on his way home to buy his own beer. In the car he refused to let her use.

The football game filled the small living room as she put the drinks in the refrigerator. Unconsciously, her eyes searched the table for the invitation. The corner peeked out from under the ketchup bottle.

Keith, you got ketchup on my mail! Tricia ran to the sink for a rag. The tears flowed again as she wiped the sauce from the front of the invitation. No matter how hard she tried, the red stain remained over her name.

Just like the stain on her heart, left by the amputation of her sister’s love.

Bring my beer over here, babe.

Tricia took one beer and the soiled envelope and sat beside Keith on the sofa. You ruined my mail.

So. It’s from your sister. You hate your sister.

It’s an invitation to her wedding.

So. It ain’t like you’re going. What difference do it make?

She’s my sister! Tricia no longer cared if he saw the tears.

Babe, the game’s back on. We’ll talk about it later.

Tricia retreated to her bedroom with the envelope cradled in her hands. Keith was right. It didn’t matter. It didn’t matter that her only sister, the person who raised her, was getting married. Greta was also the sister who had abandoned her without a word. The one who disappeared on a cruise ship to Europe, leaving Tricia with no way to phone her for two weeks. Tricia had discovered Greta was gone because of the letter left in her mailbox.

Now another letter informed her Greta was getting married. Tricia was invited, but not included in the wedding party.

Well, she assumed she was invited. She hadn’t actually opened the envelope yet. It might be an announcement of a fait accompli. Just like the information that Greta had gone on a cruise. Tricia hadn’t been informed until after it had already happened and it was too late to stop it.

And too late to join her sister.

Maybe she wasn’t invited to the wedding any more than she had been invited on the cruise.

Tricia flopped onto the bed and wished she would faint. Fainting remained her favored coping mechanism. Her sister went into action, solving problems before they even registered in Tricia’s brain. By the time Greta revived her from her fainting spell, the drama was over. And Tricia had been shielded from the experience by Mighty Maggie, her sister who now wished to be called Greta.

She understood the need to change names. Her own birth certificate stated her parents had named her Patricia. Back in the days when Greta was called Maggie, Patricia had been called Patty. Together, they were affectionately referred to as MagPie.

But that was then.

Now her sister, the other half of her heart, communicated with her through letters. Letters that laid waiting in the mailbox like bulbs buried in the dirt waiting for spring to warm the soil. Tricia’s letters hibernated in the mail slot, but nothing ever warmed them. They simply rotted behind the metal door until someone spilled ketchup on them.

No sense crying over something that cannot be retrieved. Tricia dried her eyes and shoved the envelope into her nightstand drawer, unopened. Spring could come after Keith left for the night.

For the first time, Tricia was anxious for Keith to leave. She had become accustomed to his presence even though he ignored her most of the time. But today, the letter made her impatient to be alone. Alone so that she could open the letter and pick the scab over her heart.

When she returned to the living room, Keith hadn’t moved. Nothing had changed except the number of empty beer cans on the coffee table.

Is the game over? Tricia asked, carrying the empty cans to the trash. Funny how Keith could lift full beers but not the empty ones.

Nope. Just half time.

I want to go to my sister’s wedding, Tricia blurted.

Why? You hate your sister.

I don’t hate her. I just haven’t spoken to her in a long time.

Keith stood and wiped the potato chip crumbs from his shirt onto the floor. Don’t you think that’d make things awkward?

What do you mean?

Keith ambled to the kitchen and grabbed another beer. I mean you might feel uncomfortable smilin’ at the bride after she gets served the papers.

What papers? Tricia stopped wiping the table and gave Keith her full attention.

The law suit, babe. I told you I’s going after her. Keith scratched the stubble on his chin.

I thought you were joking.

Nope. I talked to a lawyer. I gotta case.

"But you are the one who put a gun in her face. You’re the one who threatened to kill her. Not the other way around."

Keith grabbed another beer and returned to the sofa. That ain’t the way the law sees it. She’s the one who tackled me, gave me a concussion, and caused me to spend months behind bars. She owes me.

Where did you get the money for a lawyer? Tricia knew he hadn’t worked since being released from jail. Her bank account suffered the stretch marks to prove it.

Game’s on, babe. We’ll talk about it later.

Chapter 2

This is the last of it. Greta smiled at Sylvia over a mountain of shopping bags from the local craft store. I don’t know how all this fit into my car.

We got everything necessary to make your wedding flowers and decorate the church, so that’s what matters. I’ll make a pitcher of iced tea, and we can get started.

What time do you think our men will return? There are some things I don’t want John to see until our wedding day, Greta said, double checking the items against her checklist.

I don’t expect them until a couple hours after dark. They usually stop fishing when the sun goes down. Then they have to clean the fish and their gear. After that comes the water fight, which gets most of the fish guts off their bodies. The boys love it. Sylvia reached for a bag of silk flowers.

John adores your boys.

Matthew and Mark worship him. As you already know, I married an only child. Matthew and Mark don’t really know my siblings. I think the word used in polite society is ‘estranged.’ John is the only relative our sons have.

I understand.

When was the last time you spoke to your sister? Sylvia asked as she watched Greta unpacking ribbons and glue sticks.

I don’t know. It’s been months. The last couple times I tried, she didn’t return my calls. So, I quit making the effort. Greta arrange the glue sticks and pipe cleaners in perfectly parallel lines.

Those neat rows and parallel lines are not a good sign. I didn’t mean to upset you. Let’s think about Tricia some other day. Today is for creating legendary decorations for your wedding.

I’m not upset. Just sad. Greta unpacked more silk flowers onto the coffee table. I’m glad you’re my maid of honor. I bet you didn’t think it was going to be this much work though.

This isn’t work. It’s fun. And I’m thrilled to be your maid of honor. Although technically I think I’m the matron of honor. If it’s all the same to you, I’d rather be the maid. Matron sounds so grandmotherly.

It won’t be long until you’re bouncing a little grandbaby on your knee. Your boys will grow up faster than you can imagine.

So true. And they’ll be home before we’re finished with all of this if we don’t get to work.

Greta retrieved some papers from her wedding planner book. This is my inspiration for your bouquet. Do you think you can copy it?

Absolutely. Sylvia selected two stems of silk gardenias. I’m going to make two. One for me and one for Tricia. And a matching one for your hair.

Don’t bother. I can’t imagine she’ll come.

You don’t know that. We want her to feel welcome if she does. We’ll be ready either way.

Sylvia, you’ve been such a good friend to me. I don’t know how to thank you. Greta carefully closed the wedding planner book and stored it beside her purse.

There’s no need to thank me. I love you. It’s a free gift, not something that requires payment or gratitude. Sylvia put down the flowers. Greta, if Tricia shows up, even at the last minute, I want you to know it’s okay with me if you make her your maid of honor. It won’t hurt my feelings one little bit.

I’d never do that to you.

Let’s be honest. You’ve dreamed your entire life of getting married with your sister by your side. You never doubted she’d be your maid of honor and you would be hers. I’m not going to interfere with that. Even if it’s the very last second.

I couldn’t do that, Sylvia.

Sylvia reached for the floral tape. "It’s not about me, Greta. It’s about your wedding and making it the day you always dreamed it would be. What kind of friend would I be if I asked you to put my own feelings ahead of yours, especially on your special day?"

You are a treasure, Sylvia.

I mean it. I’ll understand and support your decision if you want to make the switch at any point.

You’re right. I have dreamed of my wedding day and envisioned my sister by my side. But now I don’t know. It’s been so long without a word from her. I don’t have any way to know if she received the invitation since I don’t have her current address.

Where did you send it? Sylvia dug through the bags for floral wires.

I sent it to her old address, the apartment across the hallway from mine. It’s the only one I have for her.

I’m sure they’ll forward it.

It’s been so long, I’m not sure they will. I’ve never researched how long forwarding orders last with the post office.

Me either. Sylvia reached for the wire cutters and began separating the floral blooms.

Even if I were certain she received the invitation, how could I have a maid of honor who doesn’t speak to me? She’s never even met John. It doesn’t seem right.

On the other hand, you’ve known your sister your entire life. We’ve been friends for less than a year.

It’s an interesting question. Should a bride pick the people who were important for the most amount of time, or the people who are closest to her at the moment of the wedding? I never thought about it. It never entered my head that there would be a time when my sister and I weren’t speaking to each other.

Consider yourself lucky. Whenever I talk to my sister, it’s a screaming match.

Even so, she would be there for you if you needed her.

I suppose.

I also have to remember it’s John’s wedding, too. Think how awful it’d be for him to stand there looking at me and seeing my sister’s snarling face behind me. I’m sure he’d rather see you there, supporting and loving us, than my sister’s evil eye.

Now that you mention it, I’ve never met Tricia either, Sylvia mused. You’d better show me pictures of her so I’ll know if she walks in the door.

⅏      ⅏      ⅏

John walked in the door and pecked Greta on the cheek. I’ll give you a proper kiss after I get the fish guts washed out of my hair.

I guess Matthew and Mark got rambunctious today, Greta laughed and plugged her nose. Why didn’t you hose off at the cleaning station? You’re gross.

I did. This is after the first dowsing. You should have seen me before.

No thanks. I don’t need to see it to believe it.

Where’s Sylvia? John placed bags of fish in the freezer. I thought you two were making wedding stuff today.

We did. We had a very productive day.

I don’t see any glitter in your hair. Want to share my fish guts?

Do you really think glitter would stray to my hair? Have you forgotten how anal I am about controlling things? Glitter goes where I command.

John took a risk and placed a lingering kiss on her forehead. And I am so proud of you for being able to joke about that.

Yeah, well, your smell is no joke. Grab a shower before the rest of the stinky men get here and use all the hot water. Greta gave John a gentle shove. Dinner’s almost ready.

Sylvia joined Greta in the kitchen. Competing fishing tales entertained the women as they baked cookies for the boys. The two men and two sons showered and changed. Greta’s heart filled with joy as the adults gathered around the kitchen table and the two young boys plopped in front of the television, their plates piled high with food. She had created more loving memories in the past year than the rest of her life combined.

How is the hunt for a new home coming along? Sylvia asked as she passed the hamburgers to John.

We have news on that front. John grinned at Greta. You tell them.

Greta wiped her mouth. We fell in love with a house and submitted an offer yesterday. We’re waiting to hear from the sellers.

How wonderful! Sylvia exclaimed. Where is it?

John looked at Greta, and she nodded for him to continue. It’s just down the street. The green house with the white shutters.

Sylvia jumped up and ran around the table. She gave Greta a warm hug and said, I’m so excited! I worried you were looking outside the city, someplace too far for me to pop over whenever I felt like it.

Really? Greta returned her friend’s hug. I was concerned you would think we’d be under foot too much living so close. We don’t want to wear out our welcome.

You’ve come a long way this year, Greta, but you still have some lessons to learn about being friends. Of course, we want you under foot. We love having you around.

You’ve been pretty quiet, Kyle. John passed the potato salad and tried to catch his friend’s eye.

Just giving the girls time to over react, Kyle smiled. I’m thrilled. And I know the boys will be, too.

I bet they’ll both be asleep before they finish their dinners, Sylvia said, returning to her chair. A day in the sunshine always wears them out.

If we get this house, there’s room alongside the garage for a boat. John and Kyle slapped a high five.

The rest of the dinner conversation swirled around Greta. John’s comment about buying a boat distracted her. He had never discussed it with her. Isn’t that what married couples do? They make decisions together.

That’s what Greta had assumed.

Is everyone ready for dessert? Sylvia’s question jarred Greta from her worry. Greta, can you get the cookies? I’m going to turn off the television. Matthew and Mark are both sound asleep.

Chapter 3

I didn’t sleep a wink last night, Sylvia, Greta confessed. I’m surprised I didn’t fall asleep during the sermon.

Sylvia linked arms with Greta as they exited the church. What kept you awake?

A couple of things. But I don’t want to burden you with my childish panic attacks.

Did you have a panic attack or just a fitful night’s sleep? There’s a difference.

Yes, I know. The two friends sat on a bench in the shade. They could enjoy a few quiet moments while the men shared fishing stories with their buddies. Greta loved this church and how the congregation enjoyed each other. Sometimes they lingered outside longer than they were inside for the service.

I still haven’t mastered the ability to push things out of my mind. Once they’re there, I’m stuck in their vortex of fear.

That’s rather dramatic. Sylvia kicked off her shoes and wiggled her toes in the grass. I would’ve said I was worried. Tell me what’s in the vortex.

You know this is difficult for me to say, Greta reminded her friend. I’m still not used to having someone listen to me. Actually listen and hear what I have to say. I’ve been the adult in the room since I was twelve, responsible for everyone else and their issues. No one had time for anything I had to say. Now that I have John and you and Kyle, I catch myself …

Questioning if we’re being sincere or just polite.

Exactly!

What do you think I’m being polite about?

Greta hesitated so Sylvia rubbed her arm in encouragement.

The vortex says you don’t want us to live so close to you. You would rather we be farther away and not so intrusive.

You realize Kyle and I could be saying the same thing. We could be thinking ‘oh poor John and Greta fell in love with a house but the only problem is they don’t want to be so close to us.’ We’re not thinking that, but we could.

I suppose. But you were there first. If we didn’t want to live close to you, we never would have looked at the house enough to fall in love with it.

True, but the vortex spouts lies and spawns paranoias.

I suppose. Greta laid her head on Sylvia shoulder and reminded herself to breathe.

Now that we’re agreed that we both want to live close to each other, what’s the other falsehood that kept you awake last night?

The boat.

What boat? I didn’t know John owned a boat.

He doesn’t, but remember at dinner last night? John mentioned room for a boat at the new house.

"If I