Mad About the Man (22 page)

A
n icy blast of December wind struck Brie in the face, the moist heaviness in the air promising snow in the near future.

Looks like it's going to be a white Christmas,
Brie thought as she stood on the train platform at the station near her parents' home in Connecticut. She repositioned the overnight bag on her shoulder and scanned the people moving around her in search of a familiar face.

Her brother had been tasked with picking her up again, but the redhead she spotted wasn't P.G.; it was his twin instead.

“Madelyn,” she called, waving a hand to catch her sister's attention.

“Brie!” Madelyn hurried forward, a wide smile curving her lips.

They hugged, quickly but exuberantly, then broke apart again.

“Brr, it's cold,” Madelyn said. “Here, give me some of that stuff you've got—then let's hightail it to the car before we freeze to death.”

Grateful for the help, Brie passed her a big shopping bag full of presents wrapped in festive holiday paper, leaving her a free hand for her purse and briefcase.

Together they trudged out to the parking lot.

“Zack and the twins didn't come with you?” Brie asked.

Madelyn shook her head. “They're back at the house. Zack's on a top secret mission in the garage putting together toys, and the girls are decorating cutout cookies with Mom, though I think mostly they're just ruining their dinner and making a mess. But everyone is having fun, which is what the holidays are for.”

They reached Madelyn's Volvo and took a minute to stow her belongings and the sack of presents in the trunk. She and Madelyn went around to their respective sides and climbed in. Madelyn was driving.

“So how come P.G. isn't here?” Brie buckled her seat belt. “I thought he was going to pick me up.”

Madelyn started the car, then busied herself adjusting the heater. “He was, but something came up and Mom asked me to do it instead.”

“What something?” She heard a note in her sister's voice that she didn't like. “Is anything wrong?”

“Look, why don't we get home and then I'll tell you about it there?”

“No,” Brie said insistently, “tell me about it now.”

Madelyn sighed and leaned back in the seat rather than pull out of the parking spot. “They were hoping not to put a damper on everyone's Christmas, but I suppose there's no point hiding it. Once you see her, well . . .”

“See her?” Brie's mind raced over the words, putting two and two together. “You mean Caroline, don't you?”

A look of deep sadness wiped away Madelyn's earlier smile. She nodded. “Her cancer's back.”

Without thinking, Brie reached out and gripped Madelyn's hand. “Oh, God. How bad?”

Madelyn squeezed her hand back. “Bad. It's metastasized. Brie, she's riddled with it,” she said, her voice cracking with anguish. “It's terminal this time.”

“How long?”

“How long have I known or how long does she have?”

“Both.”

“Zack and I found out this morning. P.G. stopped by for a few minutes and I could tell immediately that something was wrong. I went back with him to their house and she looks bad.”

“Surely there's some kind of treatment—”

Madelyn shook her head again. “It's inoperable. They've already consulted more than one oncologist. P.G. was so desperate he even took out a second mortgage on their house so she could go to some exclusive hospital in Texas that's supposed to be doing amazing things. But after examining her, the doctors told her to go home and get her affairs in order.”

“And that's it? They're just giving up?”

Madelyn gave her a direct look. “They're accepting the inevitable. Caroline says she wants to spend her final days surrounded by her family and friends, not in a hospital, hooked up to every machine imaginable. I think she has that right; it's what I'd do if I were her.”

Brie fell silent, blinking back the tears that came to her eyes. “Yes, of course. It's just that she seemed to be doing so well. I thought she'd beaten it.”

“We all did.”

But in hindsight, she remembered her sister-in-law's tiredness at Ivy's wedding, how they'd all put it down to overwork, even P.G. How he must be suffering, watching the love of his life fade away before his eyes. And the children, to lose their mother so young.

Madelyn sniffed and dug a tissue out of her purse. She handed a second one to Brie without asking. The two of them blew their noses.

“She wants to have a nice Christmas, especially for the kids, since it'll be their last together. How she thinks she could conceal her condition from anyone, I don't know, but we're all going to pretend, to make her happy.”

Pretend she isn't dying.

Brie couldn't speak for a minute. “Okay. Whatever Caroline needs.”

Madelyn sighed and adjusted her seat belt. “We'd better be getting back. They'll be worrying about us otherwise.”

Brie nodded.

But rather than put the car in reverse, Madelyn sat unmoving, clearly lost in thought.

“Is there something else?” Brie ventured.

Her sister shot her a sideways glance. “Nothing that can't wait.” She reached for the gearshift.

Brie stopped her with a hand. “Well, you have to tell me
now
. Go on, whatever it is, no matter how bad, I can take it.”

But could she? With the tragic news about Caroline on top of her breakup with Maddox, she honestly didn't know how many more horrible things she could stand. But her sister needed her and clearly wanted to get something else off her chest. She would deal with it for Madelyn's sake.

Inwardly, she braced herself.

Madelyn sighed, then met her eyes. “That's the trouble—it isn't bad. Actually it's the opposite, but I feel terrible being happy for myself when Caroline is . . . well, when she's . . . dying. But I've got to tell someone or I'm going to pop.”

“Let's not have that. Just think of the mess,” Brie said, joking to lighten the mood. “Actually, it would be great to hear something good for a change.”

A secret little smile curved Madelyn's mouth. “I'm pregnant.”

“What!”

Madelyn gave a half laugh, her smile widening. “Ten weeks. Besides Zack, you're the only one who knows. I haven't even told Mom. I was going to, you know, Christmas surprise, but once I found out about Caroline, I didn't have the heart. My news will keep until later.”

But Brie was shaking her head. “No, no, you should tell everyone now, tonight. It's just the thing to brighten up the holiday. And Caroline won't mind—she'll be thrilled for you. I'm thrilled for you. I'm going to be an aunt again.”

Crowing with pleasure, Brie reached over and pulled Madelyn into a fierce hug. Madelyn hugged her and laughed back.

“Zack is delighted, I'm sure,” Brie said once they broke apart.

“Delighted is an understatement. He's already busy converting the spare room into a nursery. We're waiting on paint colors, though, until we find out the baby's sex. He says he wants another girl, but I'm kind of hoping for a boy. We'll see.”

“Shall we go home and share the good news?”

Madelyn sent her a smile that was still tinged with underlying sadness. She put the car in gear. “Yes, let's.”

*   *   *

The next evening, the constant excitement and chatter in the house was finally beginning to dissipate. Christmas dinner was long over, the dishes washed, and Zack and Madelyn's girls were snuggled into bed, dreaming about the presents Santa had left.

P.G., Caroline, and their children had come over early and spent the day, Caroline looking as gaunt and frail as Madelyn had warned she would. But Caroline was determined for this Christmas to be the best one ever and so she'd smiled and laughed with everyone else. They in turn had pretended nothing was wrong, exactly as she wished. Even P.G. did his best to be merry, playing games with the children and watching football with the adults. But he couldn't completely hide the grief and torment in his eyes, especially when he thought no one was looking.

Brie had been right about Madelyn's pregnancy, which she and Zack had shared with everyone last night over cups of eggnog—hers alcohol free. The happy news had lifted the mood in the house, a counterbalance for the inevitable sorrow ahead.

By nine, Caroline was exhausted from the long day, so P.G. had taken his family home, the trunk stuffed full of presents and leftovers. Brian and Heather, who were aware of their mother's illness, though perhaps not the true severity of it, had been unnaturally quiet now that the temporary distraction of the holiday was over.

Everyone else, including James and Ivy, who had long since returned from their honeymoon but who still acted like honeymooners, had settled in the living room around the fragrant, beautifully decorated Christmas tree. The live blue spruce, which would be planted in an already-dug hole in the front yard, rose a full eight feet toward the ceiling. Its lights twinkled, a festive reminder of the day nearly done.

Brie gazed at it for a long minute, then got to her feet. She was nearly done in too, tired after the day, bone weary after working hard to act like she was having fun when there was little fun inside her.

All day she'd thought about Maddox—or, rather, tried
not
to think of him, which was nearly the same thing. What had he done today? Whom had he been with?

But she didn't want to know. She was through with him; he was out of her life, even if he had sent her a Christmas present.

Sneaky bastard
, he'd had it delivered here to her parents' house this morning. Her dad had signed for the box, so it had been impossible to refuse or return. She still hadn't opened it, stuffing it into her purse when no one was watching.

Back before Thanksgiving, Madelyn had asked her about Maddox: whether the two of them were still seeing each other. Brie had said no, that things hadn't worked out. To Brie's relief, Madelyn had left it alone.

For some reason that even Brie still didn't fully understand, she hadn't told Madelyn about the fact that Maddox was married. Maybe it was because she didn't want Madelyn to think badly of her for being stupid enough to get involved with not one but two married men. But the bigger reason, oddly enough, was that she didn't want Madelyn to think badly of Maddox.

Which was the stupidest reason of all.

The rest of the family was busy watching a movie on television. Brie turned her eyes to the screen and was trying to pay attention when the phone rang in the other room. Who could be calling on Christmas?

“I'll get it,” she offered, getting to her feet.

The others nodded and went back to their show.

Out in the hall, she picked up the receiver. “Grayson residence.”

“Hello, Brie.”

Her breath caught in her throat, her grip tightening on the receiver. She didn't need to ask who was on the other end; she would know his voice anywhere. “Hello.”

“Brie,” her mother called from the living room. “Who is it? Do I need to come out there?”

She cupped a hand over the mouthpiece. “No. It's for me. It's . . . work.”

“On Christmas night?”

“It's nothing major. Just a couple loose ends for tomorrow.”

“Tell them you can't talk. You're on holiday.”

“Yes, Mom. I'll be back in a couple minutes.”

That girl,
Brie heard her mother say in a quieter voice,
never can get her to relax.

Well, she is your daughter.

Yours too, Philip Grayson.

Her father laughed; then the room grew quiet again except for the sound of the TV.

With the portable phone in hand, Brie moved away from the crowded living room, then down another hall and into a small study. She slid the pocket doors closed behind her. Only then did she put the phone back to her ear.

“You still there?”

“Yes. So, I'm work, am I?” His voice was deep and smooth, even better than she remembered.

“You'd better be, since I told you not to call me unless it has to do with business. How did you get this number anyway?”

“Your mother gave it to me a while back. Luckily I kept it in my contacts.”

“Then you ought to be talking to my mother, since it's her number you called.”

“I tried to call you, have been all day, but you never answer your cell.”

“I switched off the ringer. It's Christmas Day, remember?”

“So it is.”

She walked over to a square, well-padded ottoman upholstered in celadon geometrics and sank down. “What do you want, Maddox? Why are you calling me?”

“Do I have to have a reason? It's Christmas, remember?”

“I've already told you—”

“I know what you told me and I've been doing my best to keep my distance until the divorce comes through.”

“Maddox—”

“Look, all I really wanted was to wish you Merry Christmas.”

She squeezed her eyes closed, a hard lump aching in her chest. “You could have just left me a message.”

“I could. But I wouldn't have gotten to talk to you, to hear you. I miss you, Brie.”

I miss you too,
she thought.
So much. Too much.

“I know you're angry with me and I understand,” he said. “But I really am getting divorced. The petition is already filed. I'll send over a copy so you can see for yourself.”

“No, I don't need to see it. I believe you, but it doesn't matter. It doesn't change anything.”

“Of course it does. It changes everything.”

“Not the fact that you lied to me. Divorced or not, you can't take that back. How can I ever trust you again? How can I know there won't be other lies? Another convenient set of half-truths somewhere down the line?”