Marrying Maddy (11 page)

“Probably,” she said, leaning against him again. “If nothing else, it sounds familiar, because I was doing the same thing.” She closed her eyes, gave him a quick squeeze, then moved entirely away from him, finally stripping off her filthy gloves. “I've gotten peat moss all over you,” she said, stalling for time.

But then she said it; she finally said it: “I have to talk to Matt tonight.”

“About us?”

She shot Joe a withering look from beneath her dark lashes. She might love this guy, she might always have loved him, but he sure could rattle her cage. “No, about the charity ball at the hospital next month. Of course, about us. About him and me. That us…and maybe this us—you and me.” She scratched an itch on her left forearm and watched as three long white welts appeared as if by magic. “Damn, and I'd better do it soon, or it's back to those antihistamines.”

“I'll talk to him,” Joe offered, laying a hand on
Maddy's shoulder. “I'll explain, let him know this whole mess is all my fault, and make him understand. Poor guy, he's going to be devastated, isn't he?”

Maddy remembered the previous evening, Matt's chaste kiss on her cheek as they'd said good-night. The rather dark circles under his eyes, his telling her that, for some reason or another, he hadn't been sleeping too well lately. “Is he? Is he really going to be heartbroken, Joe? I sometimes wonder….”

“Now
that,
Mad, is probably just wishful thinking,” Joe told her as he walked back down the path, bent to pick up something he'd earlier placed behind the bushes. “Who couldn't love you?”

Maddy smiled weakly. “Thank you, Joe. And thanks for the offer, but I have to do this myself. I owe Matt that. I can't marry him, not when I feel the way I do when I kiss you, you rat. What's in your hand?”

Joe smiled as he deposited the large, gaily wrapped container in front of her, letting go of the handle that stuck out through the paper. “I was coming over to try to talk to you,” he admitted rather sheepishly. “And I figured I might make more progress, and be safer, if I'd arrived bearing a gift. Do you want to open it?”

Swiping at another, unexpected bout of tears, Maddy looked down at the wrappings. “It looks as if somebody already started to unwrap it. There are holes in the paper on every side. You wrapped this, you say? My, how nice it is to know that the great J. P. O'Malley doesn't excel at everything.”

There was a sound from within the wrapping paper, and the box seemed to shift slightly on the un-
even bricks. Maddy stepped back a pace. “Joe? What's in there?”

“I can see I'm going to have to do this myself,” he said, and ripped off the wrapping with one good pull, exposing a gray plastic pet carrier. He reached inside and pulled out a small ball of orange fur, holding it up so Maddy could see.

“A kitten?” Maddy tipped her head to one side, watching as the small animal moved all four legs frantically, opened its mouth to show tiny sharp teeth and a pinker than pink tongue. “You brought me a
kitten?
”

Joe shrugged, handing the kitten to her, stepping back to watch as the animal immediately settled down in her arms, began to purr. Maddy stroked the cat's head with one finger and the kitten immediately raised his head, began to lick her fingertip. Even a kitten knew when he had a good thing going, Joe supposed. “It's the present for the woman who has everything. Or, if you want, we can call it an engagement present. Will you marry me, Maddy—again?”

 

“Why did she
do
that?” Mrs. Ballantine asked, turning away from the upstairs window, reaching into her pocket for her handkerchief. “Why did she hand him the kitten and run into the house? I don't understand.”

Almira sighed, let the curtain fall back into place and walked over to sit down on the antique fainting couch her husband had given her for their thirtieth anniversary. “I don't know,” she said quietly. “Was I wrong, Lucille? I know she doesn't love
Matt, but does she really still love Joe? Did she ever really love Joe? Have I ruined everything?”

Lucille Ballantine gave up on all her professional distance and sat herself down beside her employer. “I don't know, Almira,” she said, putting an arm around the smaller woman's shoulders. “Maybe marrying a friend is better than marrying for love. All that passion, things like that—very wearing on a person, you know. Passion, that is. I know.”

Almira looked up at Mrs. Ballantine. “Lucille, you never said,” she teased halfheartedly. “Tell me more. Tell me about all the passion in your life. Was Mr. Ballantine a very passionate man?”

“There never was a Mr. Ballantine,” Lucille said, rising from the couch to adjust the curtains Almira had not arranged to her satisfaction. “It was just easier letting everyone think there had been one, once.”

“Well, I'll be damned,” Almira said, shaking her head. “Here I am, reading books, and here it is, all this romance and intrigue going on right under my nose, and I don't know it. There was a sad love affair, Lucille, wasn't there?”

“No sadder than most. We met, we fell in love, we fought and he married someone else. The last time I heard anything about Barney, he was on his fourth wife.” She smiled wryly. “I like to think he's spent all of his life looking for someone to replace me. And failing.”

Almira nodded sagely. “And now I know why you were so willing to help me, Lucille. You don't want to see Maddy making the same mistakes your Barney did. You knew, as I did, that Matthew Garvey is a wonderful man, but he could never be more
than a substitute for Joe O'Malley, no matter how hard he tried. Especially when I don't think his heart is in this marriage any more than Maddy's is.”

As if saying her name conjured her up, Maddy blew into her grandmother's sitting room and looked from Allie to Lucille, her hands drawn up into fists. “I just want you two to know that I'm going to tell Matt tonight that I can't marry him. So, whatever else you're planning and plotting about up here—and I'm sure there's
something
—you can just stop it, now.”

“Why didn't you take the kitten?” Almira asked, as Maddy's first statement really didn't require an answer. The girl knew she'd come to the conclusion her grandmother had wished for her, and trying to argue at this late date that she
hadn't
been meddling? Well, that would just be ridiculous.

“Why didn't I—you two were
watching?
Oh, oh, I don't believe this!” Maddy turned herself in a full circle, then glared at both women. “Yes, I do. I'd probably believe anything you two would do.
Spying
on me, Allie? Aren't you ashamed of yourselves?”

Almira looked at Mrs. Ballantine. “Are you ashamed of yourself, Lucille? I'm not.” As the housekeeper shook her head slightly, Almira smiled at her granddaughter. “Nope. We're not ashamed of ourselves. So, why did you kiss him, and then not accept the kitten? There was a bow on the box, so we already know it was a present.”

Maddy might be nearing the end of her emotional rope, but she wasn't so desperate or so upset that she'd tell her grandmother that Joe had asked her to marry him even before she could give back Matt's ring. That she had hated him at that moment, even
as she loved him, loved him more than she really should, most probably. As Joe had said, sometimes he had some really lousy timing.

“I'm allergic to cats,” she said at last, daring her grandmother to contradict her.

Never dare Almira Chandler. That rule should probably be carved into the drawing room mantel-piece. “You are not. You had a kitten when you were younger. Fluffy, I think you named the poor thing. Horrible name for such a proud animal. Now, try again, dear. Did he ask you to marry him? That's what I would have done.”

“You would,” Maddy exclaimed, shaking her head. “You and Joe are a real pair. Can't we at least let the body cool before we start picking out new china patterns? Can't you understand how
guilty
I'm feeling right now?”

“Do you want me to tell Matt?” Almira offered.

“
No,
I do
not
want you to tell him. I don't want Joe to tell him. What is this, anyway? Doesn't anyone believe I can handle this? Am I so incompetent I can't have a perfectly normal, if difficult, conversation with Matt?”

“Well…” Almira began, looking to Mrs. Ballantine. “No. No, of course. You're right, Maddy. It's time we all took a step back, and let you handle your own life. I'm only sorry I interfered. I had no right. Really.”

Maddy looked at her grandmother, finally saw the age behind the cosmetic surgery and her heart softened. “You may be sorry, Allie, but I'm not. You've done both Matt and me a big favor.”

“And Joe?”

Maddy's smile faded. “I don't know, Allie. I just don't know….”

R
yan closed the car trunk on his golf bag and turned to Matt. “This was a good idea you had, old pal. Although it probably wasn't fair of you to bet me a quarter a hole when you know I hadn't been on a golf course yet this year.”

Matt grinned, putting his hand into his pocket and jingling the change. “I'll invest it all wisely, I promise,” he said, clapping Ryan on the shoulder as they headed back to the club to have sandwiches and drinks in the Grille. “But I have to tell you, this wasn't my idea, although I wished I'd had it. Jessie phoned me at the bank and suggested I get you out into the sunlight and fresh air before you turned into a dry old stick. Are you in danger of turning into a dry old stick, Ryan?”

Totally oblivious to the smile and longing look of the waitress directed at him as they passed her on their way into the Grille, Ryan pushed a hand through his coal-black hair, shook his head. “Just
old, Matt. Just old. But you know how it is. Work's something we never seem to run out of.”

“I suppose,” Matt said, sitting down across from his friend. “But don't you think you're overdoing it? Jessie says you're working seven days a week now. As your banker, I thank you, because I love servicing your accounts. As your friend…well, maybe you ought to think about taking a small vacation.”

“Hi, Ryan.” The blonde who'd approached their table leaned a hip against it and smiled down at him. She was wearing tennis whites above her long, straight legs, and a smile that said a lot more than hello. “Hi, Matt,” she added belatedly.

“How are you doing, Melissa?” Ryan said as he and Matt rose from their chairs, being the polite men they had been born to be, even if Ryan was wishing Melissa Gerhart somewhere in Siberia at the moment. “I'm sorry I couldn't return your call.”

“Calls, darling. Plural.” Melissa ran one red-tipped nail down the length of Ryan's arm. “So, have you decided to escort me to Matt's wedding to your little sister?”

“I'll call you later,” he promised, then sat down as Melissa pouted, then walked away. “You had to go and get married, didn't you?” he said accusingly to Matt. “Matt?” he continued as his friend didn't smile, but just took a drink of his beer and looked past him, right over his shoulder. “Hey, Mattie, boy. What's wrong?”

“Wrong?” Matt repeated. “There's nothing…well, maybe I haven't been sleeping too well.”

“Prewedding jitters?” Ryan prodded. “That's okay. I'm the best man, remember? I'll get you to
the church on time, or the backyard, as this is a garden wedding.”

Matt reached up a hand, scratched at a spot behind his ear. “That's not it, Ryan. It's…it's…” He dropped his hand, held both out in front of himself for a moment. “No. That's not why we're here. We're here to get you out for some fresh air. Tell me again how you decided to use a three wood out of that trap on Sixteen.”

“Another time, buddy,” Ryan said shortly. “What's going on? Did you and Maddy have a fight?”

Matt smiled sadly. “Nope. No fight. We've never fought. I don't think we'd know how. As a matter of fact, we don't do much of anything. We're just sort of…
polite
to each other.”

Ryan shifted in his chair. “Since when?”

“Since the beginning,” Matt answered before taking another sip of beer. “You know, that's how it started out. Talking, finding out we had a lot in common. We both want to settle down, have a home, kids. We sort of just
drifted
into the rest of it.”

“And this is a bad thing?” Ryan asked carefully.

“I didn't think so,” Matt said, hardly believing he was having this conversation. “But do you know what? I can feel more electricity between Maddy and J. P. O'Malley than I can between Maddy and myself. And she hardly knows him.”

Ryan choked on his sip of beer. Coughed. “Yeah…well…” What else could he say? Plenty, once he got home and cornered Maddy. She had to talk to Matt, tell him about Joe O'Malley. Now. Before one more day passed on the way to this wed
ding that was beginning to sound like a really bad idea—on
both
sides.

In the meantime, he had to ask. He really had to ask. “Matt, do you love my sister?”

Matt rubbed at his mouth as he looked across the table at his friend. It had to be said. Sooner or later, it had to be said. “Yes, Ryan, I do. I'm just not engaged to marry her.”

 

Jessie was pacing in the drawing room when Ryan walked in only a few minutes before six. “You're late,” she said accusingly. “Linda Garvey will be here any minute. Allie asked her to be here, which was probably a good idea—I'll explain that later. Did you go back to work?”

“I did have a few things to finish up,” he said, kissing his sister's cheek. “What's the matter, you look sort of…flustered. No, that couldn't be. You never fluster, do you, Jessie?”

She looked at him oddly, because his remarks were odd. Totally out of character. “Maybe we're both working too hard, Ryan. Do we really have to do that?”

Ryan loosened his tie, sat down on one of the sofas. “No, I suppose we don't.”

She sat down beside him. “Then why do we?”

He picked up her hand, gave it a squeeze. “I think I know why you do, Jess. Do you want to tell me about it? About Matt?”

Jessie didn't know what she had been expecting from her brother, but it certainly hadn't been this. She leaped to her feet, walked over to pour them both glasses of water. “You're my brother, Ryan, not some father confessor. However, if you want to
tell me why you're so damn dedicated to killing yourself at the plant, please feel free.”

“Okay, so it's a draw,” Ryan agreed, accepting the glass. “Where is everybody?”

“Allie says she has a headache, and will eat in her rooms, if you can believe that. She's never sick. And Linda will be here any moment, as I told you. She had some last-minute emergency at the office. And…and Matt and Maddy are out in the garden. Talking.”

“Just what I didn't want, front row seats,” Ryan muttered under his breath as he sliced a look toward the French doors that were open to catch the light June breeze. “Interesting. And Joe O'Malley? Where's he?”

 

Joe was in his own living room, pacing. This was it. Tonight had to be the night. Maddy was going to tell Matt she couldn't marry him. She hadn't actually said so, but he knew Maddy. It might take her a while to make up her mind, but once she did, she acted.

He stopped pacing, looked down to see the orange kitten rubbing up against his pants cuff. Smiling, he bent down, picked up the animal, and held it up to him, face-to-face. “She wouldn't keep you, would she, boy? But don't worry, it's only temporary. It's me we've got to worry about, especially if you want me around. Do you want me around, Tiger?”

The kitten began to purr and Joe pressed his nose to the animal's before putting it back on the carpet, where it immediately sat down and began cleaning itself.

And Joe went back to his wondering….

She hadn't said no. She hadn't said yes, but she hadn't said no. That had to mean something.

And his timing could have been better. A whole hell of a lot better.

Like, eighteen months ago, when he should have run after her, never have let her get away from him in the first place.

Like, eight months ago, when the first wave of his new software had hit, and he and Larry had known they were about to become the next overnight sensations of the computer software world.

Or five months ago, when he had finally gotten over his exhaustion, and his pride, and acknowledged that success meant absolutely nothing without Maddy there to share in it with him. Larry had told him to make up his mind, and for God's sake make his move, or to just shut up about Maddy and get on with his life. He should have listened to the man.

Thinking of Larry…the man was upstairs now, probably showering, probably singing loudly in the shower, and expecting to be taken out to dinner later.
Lots of luck, Lar,
Joe thought, knowing he wasn't taking a single step from this house until he heard from Maddy.
If
he heard from Maddy.

He
had
to hear from Maddy….

 

“…and that's just about it. I thought I was over him, really, really thought I was over him, but I'm not. And, since I'm not, it wouldn't be fair to marry you. You can see that, can't you? I'm sorry I never told you, Matt. I should have. But I really thought I was over him. Really. Even now I sometimes want to kill him. Except that I love him.” Maddy took a
deep breath, let it out slowly. “I really do love him. I'm so, so sorry.”

Matt sat beside Maddy on a wrought-iron bench in the garden, his elbows on his knees, his fingers laced together. He had his head slightly bowed as he looked down at the bricks at his feet. Maddy couldn't know it, but he was smiling.

“Matt?” Maddy put a hand on his shoulder. “Are you all right? Say something, Matt.
Please.
Say something, Matt, you're scaring me.”

He couldn't do it. He couldn't pretend, lie to her, look at her without smiling. J. P. O'Malley. Hell, he should have known—maybe he had known, somehow. He sat up, pulled Maddy against his chest, kissed the top of her head. “I love you, Maddy Chandler. God bless you, you've made me the happiest man in the world.”

Maddy stiffened in his arms. She hadn't known what response she'd been expecting, but it certainly hadn't been this. “I did?” Her eyes were wide as she dumbly stared past his shoulder, into the wall of roses behind her. “How did I do that?”

Matt laughed at her question, pushing her away from him. “Ah, Maddy, it was never right, was it? We agreed to the marriage for all the wrong reasons.
Good
reasons, but not the
best
reasons. You're probably not going to believe this, but I agreed to come out here in the garden with you so I could tell you I wanted to postpone the wedding. No, not postpone. Cancel the wedding. You deserve more than I can give you, Maddy. I've been thinking that for a while now. And if J. P. O'Malley can give that happiness to you, hey, I say go for it.”

After spending a very long, nervous afternoon,
preparing her speech, rehearsing that speech, to have Matt agree to canceling their wedding so quickly, so easily, so, according to him,
happily,
had come as quite a surprise. “And the presents? The guests? All the rest of it?”

“I'll take care of everything, Maddy,” Matt said. “Everyone will know that you've had second thoughts, and that poor old me is devastated, but carrying on the best I can. All right? The idea of everyone being nice to me, dripping sympathy all over me, is cheering me up already.”

Maddy stood, clapped her hands to either side of her head. “I don't believe this, Matt! You
don't
want to marry me? You were going to tell me that tonight? You don't want to marry me?”

“You're not in love with me, Maddy,” he reminded her, also standing, slipping an arm around her shoulders.

“Well yes, I
know
that,” she said, realizing that she might be becoming just a teensy bit unreasonable. “But…but…are you really telling me the truth? I'd feel so much better if you said you were in love with someone else, or couldn't stand the way I cook, or that my conversation bored you, or…or
something.
But you just don't love me?”

“I
do
love you, Maddy, darling. I'm just not
in love
with you. Just as you aren't in love with me. I was your second choice. I didn't know that then, but I know it now. And that's all right, honestly.”

“Because I was
your
second choice?” Maddy asked, looking at him intently. She still couldn't tell if he was telling her the truth or simply trying to make her feel better.

“No, Maddy,” Matt said, kissing her cheek so
that she couldn't see his eyes. The last thing he wanted Maddy to know was that he had somehow fallen in love with her sister. Sometime between putting the ring on Maddy's finger and two or so weeks ago, he had stupidly, hopelessly fallen in love with a woman who, like his sister, had no intention of marrying anyone, ever.

“I just thought we could both be happier if we waited until we met someone who drove us crazy, Maddy, kept us up all night, and made us eager to wake up every morning. You've got that with J. P. O'Malley, I can see it in your eyes. I should have seen it sooner, frankly. And I'm glad, Maddy, I'm really happy for you. More than you can know.”

Maddy still needed to nail all this down in her mind. “You're not upset.”

“Nope.”

“You're not heartbroken.”

“Not at all.”

“You're not just trying to make me feel better. You won't suffer.”

“Do you want me to suffer?”

“No! No, of course not. You're happy, and that's good. Man, if this isn't something! Allie invited Linda here tonight for dinner, because she thought it might be a good idea,” Maddy admitted, wincing. “But I guess you're not going to need her around to offer you a shoulder to cry on or anything like that, are you? You know, I'm beginning to think I should be insulted. But I'm not.”

Matt threw back his head and laughed. “God, but I love you Chandlers!” he exclaimed. “Linda? Here? How did you tear her away from her patients? No, wait—does she already know?”

Maddy plucked at a small leaf that had landed on her blouse somehow. “Well…
actually
…now that you mention it. I had all those hives, remember, and she is my doctor. And really, really good at worming out stuff I'd rather not say to her.”

Matt gave Maddy's shoulder another squeeze. He was almost sorry he'd confided in Ryan that afternoon, but he was sure he could count on his best friend going along with anything he said—even if he would ask a dozen pointed questions later. His sister certainly had come here tonight ready to pity him. And Jessie? Who ever knew what Jessie was thinking? Certainly not him.