Bonfire Beach Read Online Free PDF

He knows your history, he knows your prognosis—and, not to be crass about it, but he has the means to send you to the best specialists in the world, if you should ever need it.”
    “Exactly. Miles is an incredible man, brilliant, a hard worker who cares about the people who work for him…but he was born with money. On some level, I’m sure he believes that he can buy his way out of any problem. Including kidney failure.”
    “Money may not be able to solve every medical problem,” Felicity argued, driven by the memories and guilt Greta’s situation had dug up. “But it certainly helps.”
    Greta went quiet for a long moment while Felicity busied herself twitching the fabric of the dress, checking the seams and the stitches holding the buttons. Anything to avoid the dawning realization on Greta’s face.
    “You sound as if you know something about living with a chronic condition,” Greta finally said, breaking the silence tentatively.
    This was not something Felicity wanted to talk about. Ever. It opened the door to too many other bad things, things she’d worked hard to put behind her and forget. But as she stood behind Greta Hackley, square-shouldered yet fragile in her ivory wedding gown, Felicity couldn’t ignore her silent plea.
    “Not me. My mother.” Needing to sit, Felicity retreated from the mirror and perched on the hope chest at the foot of Greta’s bed. Pulling one foot up and resting her chin on her raised knee, Felicity blew out a shaky breath.
    Greta had swiveled the padded vanity stool to face her, and now she said, “We don’t have to talk about it if it makes you uncomfortable. I didn’t mean to pry.”
    “You weren’t. It’s fine.” Felicity summoned up a smile, aware that it probably wasn’t her most convincing effort. “If hearing a bit of my parents’ story can help you feel more confident about marrying Miles, I’m happy to share it.”
    Happy was stretching it, maybe. But Felicity wanted to mean it. And sometimes that was good enough.
    “Was your mother…I mean, is your mother—” Greta broke off awkwardly, unsure of what tense to use, and Felicity rushed to reassure her.
    “No, no. She’s still alive. Her condition is permanent, though. There’s no cure for MS.” Felicity heard her voice slip into the rote repetition of the many pamphlets and website she’d studied when her mother was first diagnosed. “My mom’s course of Multiple Sclerosis is the better kind, relapsing and remitting. It’s possible to control some of the symptoms and to live close to a normal life span.”
    “Close to normal,” Greta repeated softly, empathy brimming over in her bright eyes. “That’s not quite the same as normal, is it?”
    “Not quite,” Felicity croaked. Clearing her throat, she forced herself to stay on point. “My mother was fine, a lot of the time. She got tired more quickly than other moms, and there were certain things she couldn’t do. As I got older, and so did she, walking became more difficult. She started using a cane, then a walker, and finally a wheelchair. We had to move to a house that was all on one floor, so she could get around.”
    Felicity paused, struggling with how much to reveal. She didn’t want this to turn into some kind of sob story, or to overwhelm Greta with negative images of the way her life could go, but… “I don’t want to lie to you, Greta. It wasn’t always easy, and we all made sacrifices, especially my father.”
    He’d given up a career he loved, teaching college math, to take a job with more flexible hours that would let him work from home on her mother’s bad days. Money was always tight, and Felicity had worked for every penny she’d spent on clothes and a used car, when she wasn’t helping out around the house.
    Greta’s face had crumpled a bit, like the tissue she still clutched in one hand. “That’s exactly what I don’t want for Miles.”
    “I’m saying this badly.” Felicity wrapped her arms around her