Had To Be You (37 page)

“I’ll probably stop by again before I head back to New York.”

“She would love that.” Mrs. Feeney gave her a quick squeeze. “Take care, dear.”

Rory left out the back door and walked around the side of the house. Moonbeam shadows spilled across the lawn as pine needles crunched underfoot, the crickets chirping in the marsh.

Emerging out into the front yard, the sound of a familiar voice stopped her short.

“Hey.”

Matt sat on the steps of the front porch, elbows resting on his knees.

“Oh. Hi.” Once again, she did her best to sound casual, even though her heart started racing again. But she couldn’t allow it to get ahead of her this time. “What are you doing out here?”

“Just waiting for you, I guess.” He eased forward to stand. “Have you decided when you’re going back to New York?”

“No, not exactly…” Rory let her voice trail off, not feeling the need to detail how she wanted to be here for him in case he needed a friend, a shoulder to cry on, or someone to talk to. Or, if he perhaps felt like declaring his undying love and asking her to spend the rest of her life with him, since that option had recently opened up and all.

“Well, I was thinking if you were around tomorrow, maybe we could do something in the afternoon. Hang out a while?”

Rory didn’t trust her voice not to burst out like an excited, love-struck teenage girl, so she just replied with a very calm and affirmative nod.

He hesitated. “Are you heading out now?”

“Yeah. I guess I am.”

She fell in step next to him as they crossed the dark and quiet yard to where his truck and her little rental were parked at the edge of the fence, both strolling along as if they were trying to stretch the thirty yard walk into thirty miles.

“Did you get to hold the baby?” she asked.

“No, actually, I didn’t,” he said, smiling. “But I did notice that she seemed to be pretty happy hanging out with you.”

“I know, right?” Rory’s grin lifted. “I think she likes me. Maybe I have a knack.”

“Or, you know, knockers.”

“Hey!” She laughed as she gave his arm a little punch.

“I’m sorry, but we’re talking about a nursing infant here. From what I saw, I’d have to estimate that ninety-five percent of that kid’s life is spent attached to a breast. That’s about all she knows of the world right now.” He rubbed at his arm although he was laughing, too. “And—ow—you still hit like a boy, Finn.”

“And you still whine like a little girl.”

“I may whine, but there is nothing little about me, I assure you.”

“Well, other than how little you can handle pain. Do you need some ice for that?”

“Why would I need ice?” he muttered playfully. “When you’re so damn cold?”

“Aw, I’m sorry.” She feigned sympathy. “Did I leave a mark?”

“Yes, actually, I think you did.” He pulled up the sleeve of his shirt, trying to inspect his arm in the distant light glowing from the porch. “See that right there?”

“Matt, it’s a freckle.”

“No, it’s not,” he insisted. “Okay, maybe
that
is, but it’s somewhere there. Trust me.” He lifted his eyes back to hers with a softer smile. “You left a mark.”

***

Standing in front of her dresser mirror, Rory twisted her long hair up into a loose ponytail. She glanced again at the assorted piles of clothes on her bed. She chose only her nicest things, and hoped it would be appropriate attire.

Not so surprisingly, and despite all his promises, her father’s work commitments made him a no-show to her qualifying meets for gymnastics. This time, however, his apology came in the form of an invitation to stay with him in Boston for a couple of days. Rory was thrilled. He’d never invited her for a whole weekend before.

There would be lots of nice restaurants, of course, but he’d also mentioned an event at the Museum of Fine Arts and possible seats to a Red Sox game. With a smile tugging at the corner of her lips, she returned to her closet, deciding she would also bring a sweatshirt for Fenway, just in case.

The telephone rang and she rushed to the kitchen to answer it. Her father typically liked to let her know when he was getting close to the house, so she was sure to be ready and waiting out front (thereby minimizing any and all interaction with her mother).

“Rory?”

“Hey, Dad!” she greeted him a little breathlessly.

“How’s my girl?”

“Good. I’m just finishing up getting ready. What time do you think you’ll be here?”

“Well, kiddo, here’s the deal…”

Instantly, her heart sank.

“It turns out this weekend isn’t going to work out for me after all. I completely forgot I had plans to fly out of town with Makayla. I already committed to it.”

“I thought her name was Rebecca,” she said flatly, even though she was well aware he had already swapped his former young secretary/assistant for an even younger spinning instructor at his gym.

“Now, now…don’t be like that. We’ll have plenty of other chances for our weekend.”

“Like when?”

“Oh, I don’t know, honey. I don’t have my whole schedule right in front of me. And don’t you have prom or something coming up?”

Rory quickly swiped at the wet sting in the corner of her eye.

“Rory?”

“Yeah, Dad. Okay, um—well, I’ll talk to you later I guess.”

She clicked off the phone and dropped it onto the kitchen counter. Returning to her room, she sat at the edge of her bed, next to the neatly folded clothes.

Rory didn’t know how to make her father want to spend time with her, or what she was supposed to do to sustain a love that was supposed to be unconditional. As she sat there, she started to consider the possibility that love doesn’t really work that way. Maybe there are always hidden conditions, limitations, and clauses. And nothing was ever enough to keep it from going away.

Her mom stopped in before going to the market. She cautioned Rory on having such blind faith in her father—or in any man, for that matter—explaining how it could only lead to exactly this kind of heartache and disappointment. That if she wasn’t careful, more guarded and less willing to believe, she might only be looking at more of this in the future.

Needless to say, in her current mood, it wasn’t much of a pep talk.

It was then Rory realized it was time to give up on her dad. He’d left, and it was finally time to consider him gone.

“Rory?”

She glanced up at the sound of the screen door and a moment later Jill appeared in her bedroom.

“Hey.” Jill went to the mirror to check her hair. “What’s going on?”

“Nothing.” Rory took a deep breath of resolve, shutting her pain tight away as she stood from the bed to start putting her clothes away. It wasn’t something she felt like discussing with Jill, whose father’s worst transgression today was probably making her pancakes for breakfast when she actually wanted waffles. “What are you doing?”

“I was heading downtown to meet Hannah and Lindsay at the place with the sandwich wraps. Do you want to come? I guess then the boys have a double-header over at Seaside at one-thirty?”

She only nodded, glad she hadn’t mentioned the trip to anyone but Matt. Rory didn’t plan to waste this whole Saturday sitting home and feeling bad.

The noontime sun beat down, the ocean wind pushing the clouds around in the bright blue. They followed the winding path along Harborview all the way into town, where the pavement switched over to cobblestone. The sandwich shop was on the corner across from the boat landing, with small picnic tables lined up along the seawall.

Rory spotted the group almost immediately. Lindsay was at a table next to Bobby, sharing a giant fruit iced tea, while Murph and Matt sat up on the granite wall with Hannah right nearby. Matt was in his blue-and-white baseball uniform, hat backwards and hands in motion as he told them all some story. When their laughter carried on the wind, a reluctant smile tugged at the corner of her mouth. But then it froze in place.

Hannah, appearing to be especially entranced by his humor, moved closer to rest her hand on his knee. Then she edged in even closer still, practically squeezing herself right between his legs, and leaned up to whisper in his ear.

At that moment, Matt glanced over.

“Hey—what are you doing here?”

Hannah slunk away as he hopped down off the wall in one easy motion, jogging over to meet them at the curb. He bowed his head for a kiss, but Rory turned so his lips only grazed her cheek.

“Sorry to surprise you,” she murmured, narrowing her gaze.

“I just thought you’d be gone by now.”

“Obviously.”

He gave her a questioning look, but she steadfastly ignored it, freezing him right out.

“Hey, Rory!” Lindsay called. “My mom said she can take us all dress shopping next Wednesday after school.”

“I think I’m all set,” she replied. “But thanks.”

“Does that mean you already got one?” Matt interjected, his voice soft and hesitant. “Do you have the color? Because, according to my mom and sister, that’s important information I need to know.”

“No, I don’t have a dress.” Rory felt hurt and betrayed all over again. Suddenly, she didn’t feel like being around anyone. “I’m not really into it, to tell you the truth. It’s kind of pointless.”

“I guess,” he replied dubiously. “Though something can be pointless, and yet still kind of fun. We can make it fun.”

“I don’t think so.” She shot him a darker look. The others were involved in their own conversations over at the table, far enough away not to overhear. “But you should definitely go.”

He burst out a small, humorless laugh. “What?”

“In fact, why don’t you go with Hannah? I don’t think she has a date, and I’m sure you two would have a good time.”

“Wait—are you being serious right now?” He narrowed his gaze, but kept his voice low.

She felt a rise of bitter frustration, and tears stung her eyes all over again.

“Whatever. I’ve got to go.”

“Rory!”

She didn’t look back, and he didn’t follow.

Rory ended up going to bed early that night with a stomachache, leaving her mom to field her calls. When she finally dragged herself from bed Sunday morning, she only made it as far as the back porch, where she wrapped herself up in a cotton blanket and a book.

She was surprised when her mother stopped by on her way out to some early potluck dinner at her garden club, realizing she’d managed to let the whole day slip away.

Wandering into the kitchen, she stared at the contents of the refrigerator. With no real appetite, nothing seemed very appealing. Suddenly, she heard a knock at the back porch door. She turned back down the hallway, pausing at the screen before she eased it open.

She didn’t even know what to say.

In the fading daylight, Matt stood there in a tuxedo, a florist’s corsage box in hand and an uncertain yet hopeful smile on his face.

Rory was in shorts and an old baseball jersey, one that probably once belonged to him, her long hair spilling out of a loose topknot.

“Matt…what are you doing?”

“Ah, I would think it might be obvious.”

“Really?” Lines creased in her forehead. “Because it’s not at all.”

“I’m here to formally ask my girlfriend to prom,” he said. “Something I may have neglected to officially do. So you can see that it does, in fact, have a point—number one being me, looking like this—and thereby allow you to make a more informed decision.”

She had no reply, and just held the door open wide so he could step inside.

Digging into the pocket of his jacket, he pulled out his iPod and little speakers, holding it up for her to see. Rory bit down on her bottom lip, her eyes watering slightly on her tentative smile as she watched him set it up on the windowsill next to the potted geraniums.

He scrolled through until he found a good song.

“And, now for that,” he said, turning to reach for the box she held as the low, soft strains of music filled the porch.

“I’m not even wearing a dress.” Her words wavered slightly.

“Yeah, well, you could be wearing a plastic garbage bag…” He fumbled a moment with the ribbon on the wristlet before carefully placing it on her arm to tie it there. “So we really don’t need to discuss how pretty you are, because it’s pretty much an undeniable fact.”

Rory gazed down at the delicate floral arrangement before lifting her eyes back to his.

“I’m sorry,” she whispered.

“It’s okay,” he said reassuringly, though his quiet voice also held a touch of relief.

“I don’t really want you to go with anyone else.”

“I didn’t plan to.” Matt shook his head, one hand coming to rest on her waist as he guided her towards him. “I only want to go if it’s with you, Rory. I want us to have that night—no matter how dumb or cheesy or pointless it may be.”

She slid her hand up his lapel, fingers curling into the material of his suit jacket as he took her into his arms to hold her close. He nuzzled his nose into her hair, his gentle whisper kiss grazing her cheek.

“What happened with your dad?” he asked.

She covered the hiccup of her weepy sigh. “You don’t want to know.”

“Yeah, I do. You should know you can tell me.”