Read Online Final Vow by Kathleen Brooks - Free Book Online Page A
Authors: Kathleen Brooks
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cannot even begin to know.”
Ahmed shook his friend’s hand and got into the car. As he started the engine , he looked up and saw Bridget in the window. He wished he could tell her his true feelings. Someday this would be over; he just hoped he would emerge from this upcoming battle alive.
* * *
The knock at the door interrupted Ahmed’s packing. It was a gentle knock—not one he was familiar with—and it certainly wasn’t Bridget’s. If she found out he was leaving, she would be beating down the door to find out where he was going. He zipped his suitcase and went to answer the door.
Ahmed hid his surprise at finding Marcy Davies standing at his front door. She held out a plastic container filled with cupcakes and smiled.
“Mrs. Davies? What can I do for you?” Ahmed asked.
“Oh, I hope I’m not disturbing you,” Marcy said as she walked by Ahmed, through the living room and into his kitchen, all while taking in his house in one quick glance.
“You could never disturb me. Now, what can I do for you?”
Marcy grabbed a cupcake and shoved it into his hand as she made her way to the couch. She looked up, smiled at him, and patted the cushion next to her. “I have been thinking about you a lot recently, but after that incident in the café, I just felt compelled to see you. It occurred to me that while you have been here for everyone in Keeneston, and certainly my family, I have never heard about your family. I assume that is because you don’t want to talk about them. But then again, you aren’t what I’d call chatty.”
Ahmed felt his lips quirk . “True.”
“I don’t even know if you have a mother or father,” Marcy said, but by the way she stared him down it was clear it was actually a question.
“No. My father died in a rebellion when I was eighteen, and my mother just a short time before that.”
“Well, you’ve taken care of my sons and now it’s time for me to take care of you. Let me tell you a story.” Marcy settled back into the couch and eyed the uneaten cupcake until Ahmed took a bite of it.
“It’s good. Thank you.”
“You’re welcome, dear. Now, when I was sixteen years old, I met the most amazing man. He was tall, dark, and handsome. Not to mention the way he could sit on a horse. Do you know what the trouble was? He was with a Keeneston Belle,” Marcy sneered. “Not just any Belle, but the queen bee. So when another boy asked me to the prom, I agreed. I thought it was the universe telling me Mr. Tall, Dark, and Handsome wasn’t for me.
“T he day before prom was our final exam for home economics. We had to prepare a dinner and then the teacher and the senior men from the prom court would judge it. I set my fried chicken down in front of Mr. Tall, Dark, and Handsome, and he took a bite then looked up at me. The way my toes curled and I couldn’t look away told me the universe was wrong—this was the man for me, period. Do you know what I decided to do?”
Ahmed shook his head. He had no idea what this story was about and why she was holding him hostage with cupcakes and kindness. “What did you do?”
Marcy smiled and patted his knee. “I fought for him. I sent him brownies—and my brownies are magic—with a note from a secret admirer. The note had just enough hints that he could guess, but not know for sure, it was from me. Then I dressed for the prom and ignored him.”
“What?” Ahmed wasn’t expecting that.
“That’s right. I was nice and looked drop-dead gorgeous. I strutted around prom with all the confidence in the world while he couldn’t help wondering if I was the one who sent the note. Now, the Belle actually played into it by being caught making out with the star of the basketball team, who happened to be my date, “ Marcy explained and Ahmed just stared. “After a very public breakup, Mr. Tall, Dark, and Handsome was about to leave. I couldn’t let that happen now, could I?”
“No?” Ahmed guessed.
“That’s right. So I
Ahmed shook his friend’s hand and got into the car. As he started the engine , he looked up and saw Bridget in the window. He wished he could tell her his true feelings. Someday this would be over; he just hoped he would emerge from this upcoming battle alive.
* * *
The knock at the door interrupted Ahmed’s packing. It was a gentle knock—not one he was familiar with—and it certainly wasn’t Bridget’s. If she found out he was leaving, she would be beating down the door to find out where he was going. He zipped his suitcase and went to answer the door.
Ahmed hid his surprise at finding Marcy Davies standing at his front door. She held out a plastic container filled with cupcakes and smiled.
“Mrs. Davies? What can I do for you?” Ahmed asked.
“Oh, I hope I’m not disturbing you,” Marcy said as she walked by Ahmed, through the living room and into his kitchen, all while taking in his house in one quick glance.
“You could never disturb me. Now, what can I do for you?”
Marcy grabbed a cupcake and shoved it into his hand as she made her way to the couch. She looked up, smiled at him, and patted the cushion next to her. “I have been thinking about you a lot recently, but after that incident in the café, I just felt compelled to see you. It occurred to me that while you have been here for everyone in Keeneston, and certainly my family, I have never heard about your family. I assume that is because you don’t want to talk about them. But then again, you aren’t what I’d call chatty.”
Ahmed felt his lips quirk . “True.”
“I don’t even know if you have a mother or father,” Marcy said, but by the way she stared him down it was clear it was actually a question.
“No. My father died in a rebellion when I was eighteen, and my mother just a short time before that.”
“Well, you’ve taken care of my sons and now it’s time for me to take care of you. Let me tell you a story.” Marcy settled back into the couch and eyed the uneaten cupcake until Ahmed took a bite of it.
“It’s good. Thank you.”
“You’re welcome, dear. Now, when I was sixteen years old, I met the most amazing man. He was tall, dark, and handsome. Not to mention the way he could sit on a horse. Do you know what the trouble was? He was with a Keeneston Belle,” Marcy sneered. “Not just any Belle, but the queen bee. So when another boy asked me to the prom, I agreed. I thought it was the universe telling me Mr. Tall, Dark, and Handsome wasn’t for me.
“T he day before prom was our final exam for home economics. We had to prepare a dinner and then the teacher and the senior men from the prom court would judge it. I set my fried chicken down in front of Mr. Tall, Dark, and Handsome, and he took a bite then looked up at me. The way my toes curled and I couldn’t look away told me the universe was wrong—this was the man for me, period. Do you know what I decided to do?”
Ahmed shook his head. He had no idea what this story was about and why she was holding him hostage with cupcakes and kindness. “What did you do?”
Marcy smiled and patted his knee. “I fought for him. I sent him brownies—and my brownies are magic—with a note from a secret admirer. The note had just enough hints that he could guess, but not know for sure, it was from me. Then I dressed for the prom and ignored him.”
“What?” Ahmed wasn’t expecting that.
“That’s right. I was nice and looked drop-dead gorgeous. I strutted around prom with all the confidence in the world while he couldn’t help wondering if I was the one who sent the note. Now, the Belle actually played into it by being caught making out with the star of the basketball team, who happened to be my date, “ Marcy explained and Ahmed just stared. “After a very public breakup, Mr. Tall, Dark, and Handsome was about to leave. I couldn’t let that happen now, could I?”
“No?” Ahmed guessed.
“That’s right. So I
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