Summertime Dream (31 page)

His heart leapt. And best of all, Margie’s car stood in the driveway, pulled down toward the back. Thank you! He chuckled. She’d probably just left her phone on vibrate again.

He parked behind her car and sat in the quiet for a moment, more wired than tired. This was it. He wanted to kick himself for being so blind for so long to the obvious solution to their problem. Still, dealing with Joe lay ahead on the problem list. Joe would just have to suck it up. He was back in Margie’s life for good.

He pried himself out into the heavy, hot August air, stiff and creaky from driving too long without a break. That last short nap in the truck had only kinked up his back. At least on a plane you could occasionally stand and stretch your legs.

Home. He was home. The welcome sensation was enormous and strange and dizzying as he walked up the steps to the front door.

His door.

He gripped the doorknob, ready to call out for Margie, ready to open the door to his new life.

“Christopher?” Margie’s stunned question behind him hung in the quiet.

He turned.

Margie, summery and fresh in a flowery top and white shorts, stood at the corner of the porch, clutching the railing, her mouth open and beautiful eyes wide. “What are you doing here?”

He swept her into his arms, holding tight. She was soft and perfect, proving his memories of them together had been far more than wishful thinking. “I missed you.”

Then her unresponsive rigid posture registered. Her serious, tense face, and cool tone. No
I missed you, too
. Not exactly any one of the greetings he’d daydreamed about over the long drive.

Oh, shit. “What’s wrong?” Had she had a fight with Joe again?

She eased stiffly out of his embrace and backed up, her eyes serious and hurting. “Why didn’t you call me?”

Crap. “I called you this morning, but I got your voicemail.”

All his second-guesses and doubts roared back in. What if she needed more time? What if she had seen their relationship as only a summer romance, not the forever kind of thing he’d envisioned? What if she didn’t love him as much as he’d believed?

She folded her arms and took a sharp breath. “That’s not what I meant, but this morning was stressful and I left my phone on the kitchen table. I only meant to be out on the porch, but I walked down to the river.”

“What’s wrong?”

“Joe and Stephanie were fighting at the restaurant this morning, or maybe trying to talk, I don’t know, but they were upset and they upset Dad and Mom.”

“I’m sorry.”

“I’m trying to hold hope they’re talking and will work out their problems.” She shook off a shiver. “Why didn’t you call me? Why didn’t you let me know you were coming?” She glanced over her shoulder at his SUV and rental trailer and her eyes narrowed. “Wait, I thought you were going to have everything shipped, but I’m not done packing yet.”

“No, the trailer has all my stuff.”

“All your stuff...but you sold the house.”

“Sold? No. I’m here for good. I love you.”

“The sign was missing. I thought you’d sold the house to Eddie.”

No mistaking the ache in her voice this time. He’d screwed up. “He offered. I turned it down. I’m keeping the house.”

She raised her chin. “You couldn’t let me know you were coming? You couldn’t let me know you took the house off the market? You told me you loved me and then left and I’ve heard from you five times in the last two weeks? You couldn’t just shoot me an email even?”

He jammed a hand through his hair. “I’m sorry. You’re right. I should have called you. I missed you every day. I should have written you. I should have talked to you every single day. I screwed up. I wanted to, but I have so much to tell you and everything I need to say to you, I just couldn’t say over the phone or email. Forgive me. I was...just focused on getting back here as fast as I could and that everything could be explained and make sense when I got here. I drove almost straight through except for a nap at a truck stop last night. I need coffee so bad it isn’t funny.”

She nodded, but her solemn face gave him no hint if his excuses had passed muster. “That’s easy to fix. I made a whole pot this morning when I meant to make only a mugful. I don’t know why. I must have known you were coming home.” Laughing forlornly, she turned her back on him and headed for the kitchen door. “Okay, keep talking. Tell me everything.”

He sucked in a breath and followed. “Short version—Finished business in New York and got to LA. Realized I made a huge mistake leaving you. Worked like a crazy man to make all the arrangements to move. Flew to Atlanta and did my seven-day meeting in two. Flew back to LA, packed up the apartment, loaded the trailer, and hit the road here.”

In the kitchen, she checked her phone with a pensive expression and rubbed a hand over her hair. “Just one missed call. Yours.”

“Again, I’m sorry. I get targeted on a task and forget to stop until I’m done. It’s a bad habit.”

She nodded. “But that focus has made you very successful.”

“I’ve been successful, but I haven’t been happy for a long time. Then I met you, and you turned my world on end. You’re good for me. I was happy.”

“I was happy too…” She pulled out a chair, and cast an unyielding glance over her shoulder. “Sit. I’ll heat up the coffee for you. It’s gone lukewarm by now.”

She’d changed since he’d left. Harder…no, more self-assured. “Just pour it over some ice, thanks.”

She filled a glass with ice, poured the coffee over that, and stirred in the milk. “Are you hungry? There isn’t much in the fridge. There’s some bread. We still have some peanut butter and the strawberry jam.” She set the coffee pot in the fridge.

“A peanut butter sandwich is fine.” He took a long, chill swallow. The bitter and sweetly milky mixture hit the spot. “I was too focused on needing to be in LA, in a city. I’ve been on the go so long, I missed seeing the obvious solution. You were right. Why can’t I live where I want? Heck, even Lloyd said the same thing. My office is where my computer is. I hated leaving you that day. I thought I was rushing you. I didn’t trust that we could honestly have something real that fast. Too soon after meeting you. Too soon for you, after all you’d been through. I figured if we got back to our regular lives, common sense would return, and we could see the relationship with more realistic eyes.”

“It
was
fast. That was my fault, kissing you on the Fourth. I still can’t believe I did that. But...I couldn’t help myself, and it felt so right.” A rosy blush pinked her cheeks. “And everything else, too.” She blushed deeper and focused on gathering up the bread, peanut butter, and jam from the fridge.

“It did.”

“And then you didn’t call.” Her voice cracked.

Guilt surged back full bore. Her worries were all his fault. “I’m sorry. I should have kept you up to date. I was so blinders-focused on getting here. Too focused on telling you everything face to face.”

“I’ll just make you that sandwich, then we can go unload what you want from the trailer.” She shakily spread peanut butter over both bread slices.

He stood, and caught Margie’s shoulder, turning her away from the counter. He pressed a kiss to her forehead, fighting the need to hurry in pace with his racing heart. “I missed you so much. Look, I know we have so much to talk over, but I love you. I know we can make this thing between us work. Can you forgive me? Do you want to make this work—do you believe in us too?”

She shuddered, driving a heavy pang through him. “Please, give us a chance.” He touched his lips to hers, taking slow and coaxing possession.

Her phone warbled its bouncy ringtone. He firmed his hold on her; she could call them back later after they’d finished talking.

She jerked against his grip. “I have to get that. I promised Dad I’d answer my phone. I already messed up once today.”

“Go on and answer it.” He let her slip away. “I understand.”

He groaned. Could he have handled any of this more poorly? And he still had to face her family. He picked up the sandwich and took a big bite.

Margie grabbed up her phone, her brows wrinkling in puzzlement. “It’s Stephanie—Hello, Stephanie? Wait—slow down, what?” As she listened, her face paled and she swayed.

A shiver ran his spine. Oh, crap, what? Christopher dropped the sandwich and caught her shoulder.

“I’m coming...Yes, I’ll call them. I’m coming right now.” Shakes hit her as she ended the call and she turned to Christopher, her eyes huge. “Joe—Joe might be having a heart attack. Stephanie’s at the hospital with him. I have to go.”

Shit! He guided her to a chair.
Please, please let Joe be okay
. “Deep breath. Catch your breath.”

Nodding vaguely, she dragged in several hitching breaths. “I—I have to call Dad. I have to go.”

She was in no shape to drive. “Give me your keys. I’ll drive. You can call him on the way.”

“How do I tell him?” She blindly dug into her purse.

He eased the keys from her clenched hand, slipped her purse strap over her shoulder, and pressed the phone into her grip. “Deep breath. Calm. You can do it. Let’s get the car.” He caught her arm and started guiding her to the door. The sooner he got her to the car, the sooner he could get her to her brother. Her cut-off sob and deep gasp as she dialed drove his sharp wrench of worry tighter.

Then she spoke, steady and calm. “Aunt Ida, I need to talk to Dad. Now. It’s important.”

Chapter Twelve

Walking blindly on stiff, uncoordinated legs, Margie dragged in another deep breath, fighting to calm her madly pounding heart. She couldn’t panic.
Please, God, oh, please.
She clutched Christopher’s steadying arm hard and spoke with a calm that she didn’t possess. “Dad. Stephanie just called me. She’s at the hospital with Joe. He’s having chest pains. I’m on my way there.”

Silence filled the line except for the background restaurant kitchen clatter.

“Dad? Dad, talk to me.” The shakes reclaimed her voice. “I’m sorry, I didn’t know how to say it. I had to tell you.”

His voice cracked. “I’m here, sweetie. I’m okay. We’ll meet you there. Drive careful.”

“Christopher’s back. He’s here. He’s driving.” He was back. She didn’t face this alone. Oh, he was
back
. This was all too much…

“Good. Your mom and I are on the way.”

All along the far-too-long drive to the hospital in Collingswood, her mind crazily ping-ponged between fear and hope and prayer. “Chest pains aren’t always a heart attack.” She spoke firmly, hoping to convince herself.

“Right. It could be lots of things. Heartburn, gall bladder. My friend Ari had a gall bladder attack. He said that was the worst pain he’d ever experienced. He was certain it was a heart attack. He had pain like a band squeezing his chest, radiating into his back, and up into his jaw. He couldn’t take a deep breath. He was sure he was going to die right there.”

“Joe has heartburn. A lot. And stress. He’s been really stressed.”

“Whatever’s wrong, he’s in the hospital and they’ll take good care of him.”

“Right. They’re really good there. They…” Her own terror and panicked memories from when her heart had failed surged. The helplessness...The helplessness was the worst. Worse than the pain.

Christopher scooped her hand into his and squeezed. “It’s going to be okay.”

“I was so scared. Dad couldn’t fix it. Joe couldn’t fix it. Eddie didn’t come. Mom...Mom fell apart. They let Dad see me, before, before my operation. He was so scared. I could see in his eyes he believed he was going to lose me too. He can’t go through that again.”

“Joe will be fine.”

Of course, after all that rush to reach the hospital, then they had to wait. Dad and Mom arrived minutes behind them, scooping her and Christopher into anxious, weepy hugs. Christopher kept her hand in his, his steady touch holding her skittering fears at bay.

After more waiting than she could stand, Dad and Mom were called in to see Joe.

Long minutes later, the doors opened again, and Stephanie peeked her bright auburn head through. Spotting Margie, she broke and ran straight into Margie’s arms. “He’s going to be okay.” She sagged into Margie’s hug, trembling and jerking with sniffles.

This time, Margie shook with relief. “Come on. Let’s sit.” They sank down together into the nearest seat, still holding hands. Oh, Stephanie was so thin. The already tight knot in her stomach twisted. Christopher laid a hand on Margie’s shoulder and gave her an
I’m here
squeeze.

Stephanie swiped back her bangs from her red and puffy eyes. “They’re thinking maybe some different things together. They’re doing tests. Severe heartburn and a panic attack, maybe. Maybe some other stuff. And his blood pressure is way too high. Scary high. And somehow he broke his hand.”

“He punched a hole through the office door right before he ran after you.”

Stephanie sniffled some more. “He’s such an idiot.” She sucked in a hard breath and scrubbed the wadded tissues over her eyes. “He’s going to be okay. I need more tissues.”

Christopher offered her the box from the nearby table.

“Thanks.” Stephanie wiped her eyes and blew her nose. “I need to sit here for a few, then I need to go back in. I need to be with him.” She heaved a ragged breath. “Here’s what happened. I came to the restaurant to confront him today, over everything. I’ve been getting counseling. I love him and it was past time for me to try to fix things with him. But talking with him was like arguing with a brick wall, as usual. I was so hurt and so angry with his pigheaded stupidity and blaming himself. If he didn’t love me enough to fight for us, I was done. I told him I couldn’t go on like this anymore and I wanted a divorce and I ran. He followed me to my parents’ house. I guess I finally got through to him.” Her smile trembled. “He started shouting, then he doubled over and collapsed. I was so scared. He couldn’t catch his breath. He hurt so much. I called 911 and now we’re here.”

Christopher offered her more tissues.

Stephanie finally focused on him and his comforting hand on Margie’s shoulder and blinked back more tears. “Hi, I’m Stephanie, Margie’s currently-losing-her-mind sister-in-law.”