The Wedding Gift (5 page)

“She has an appointment,” Ruby said defensively.

“For two o'clock,” he said. “Yes, I know.”

He knew? Madeline thought. But how? Realization dawned. “You own this cottage.”

“You're the guy with the Porsche from the bar last night,” Ruby said at the same time.

Riley looked at both of them but spoke to Madeline. “I didn't think you'd want to stay in my cottage, so I gave you Kipp's number.”

“Why wouldn't she want to stay in your cottage?” Ruby asked.

This time he looked only at Madeline when he replied. “You strike me as the kind of woman who likes to do things her way.”

Again Madeline wondered how he did that. How did he make her feel as if he knew her?

Wearing a long-sleeved shirt but no jacket, he
slipped his hand into the pocket of a pair of Levis just tight enough to be interesting. “Oh my,” Ruby said as he brought out a key.

Madeline must have put her hand out to accept the key, because she could feel the edges biting into the palm of her fisted hand. She was glad he didn't seem to expect her to say anything.

The breeze lifted his wavy hair and fluttered through his shirt. Seemingly unfazed by the chill in the air, he said, “I turned the heat on inside the cottage in case you decide you like it.”

“Where's your car?” Madeline asked.

“It's parked in my driveway next door.”

“We're on Shoreline Drive?” Madeline asked. Earlier, when Red O'Toole had graciously imparted description of and directions to Riley's house he hadn't mentioned an adjoining property.

“Yes,” Riley said. “I thought you knew that.”

“I guess I'm a little lost,” Madeline countered.

Ruby felt as if she was watching a tennis match.

“I've gotta go. Our newest clients have decided they want a glass floor in the foyer. Under the glass they want to display an antique car, but not just any antique car. They have their hearts set on a Riker and they expect me to find one. Kipp has a lead on a Riker belonging to a collector in Charlevoix. He's waiting for me at his place. Go
on in and take a look at the cottage. If you like it, make yourself at home. If you don't, just lock the door when you leave.”

He took three steps, the dog right beside him. “Oh.” Turning again, he said, “Could he stay with you until I get back? I shouldn't be late.”

Ruby didn't see Madeline nod, but she must have, because she was holding the leash after he was gone. They both stared at the empty gap in the arborvitae hedge, hearing the screech of gulls overhead, the lap of water in the distance.

“What just happened?” Madeline asked dazedly.

“Apparently you're dog sitting for the rest of the afternoon.”

The dog let out a sorrowful howl that raised goose bumps on Ruby's arms. The brown mongrel seemed upset to be separated from Riley.

“Don't worry,” Madeline was saying gently. “He'll be back.”

He yowled again, a solemn, somber sound.

Ruby looked over at Madeline. She was pale and slender and seemed a little sad. No matter what she said, there was more to her visit to Gale than mourning a beloved fiancé, naming a stray dog and moving some furniture, but she had resiliency, pluck and determination. She was going to be all right.

Ruby wondered if the same could be said for
Riley Merrick. The dog yowled again. Apparently Ruby wasn't the only one who thought so.

 

Madeline didn't know where she was when she opened her eyes. There was a pillow beneath her cheek, a warm throw over her legs and shoulders, and an expanse of creamy white directly in front of her eyes.

Outside the wind seemed to exhale. Inside a clock ticked. She must have fallen asleep.

Now she remembered. She'd been dog sitting. She'd stretched out on the sofa in the cottage to wait for Riley to return. He must have run into trouble, because darkness had fallen and he still wasn't back.

She snuggled deeper into the warmth of the throw.

Her eyes popped open. She hadn't been covered up when she laid down. Hurriedly sitting up and whisking the throw off, she caught Riley and the dog on their way out. “Going somewhere?” she asked.

He glanced over his shoulder at her, his hand on the doorknob. “I didn't mean to wake you.”

“You didn't.” The quiet cadence of their voices lent an intimacy to the exchange. “I'm surprised I didn't hear you come in. I'm not normally a sound sleeper.” She stood and instantly curled her bare toes in the plush rug beneath her feet. “Having your dog here must have made me feel safe.” She looked at the
dog staring back at her from the vicinity of Riley's knee. “Obviously it was a false sense of security. You could have barked,” she said, giving the dog's head a gentle pat. “What time is it?”

“It's almost midnight. I didn't expect it to take so long to close the deal on the car. I apologize.”

“I didn't mind,” she said, and she meant it. “We shared an order of Chung Du Chicken and fried rice, and then he kept me company while I unpacked.”

“So you like it?” He gestured around the room with his free hand.

She nodded. The cottage was small but comfortable. Decorated in shades of white, cream and blue, it reminded her of the dunes and the lake and the sky. “Who did your decorating?”

“My stepmother. She wanted to do my house, too, but had to be satisfied with the guesthouse for now. Gwen was afraid, if left to my own devices, there would be leather couches and a big-screen TV.”

If he'd intended to make her smile, it worked. He had a shadow of a beard tonight. His sleeves were rolled up and he'd run his fingers through his hair. His quietude was probably a result of fatigue.

“I must warn you,” she said, “I have every intention of finding a name for your dog and unveiling your furniture. He looks a little like a Jake, doesn't he?”

Riley shifted his stance and took his hand from the doorknob.

“No?” she asked. “Rocky? Archie. Buster.”

He must have noticed her rubbing her upper arms, because he reached to the thermostat to the right of the door and turned up the heat. The dog yawned, prompting her to say, “Droopy? Gumball.”

Ruby had said she hadn't heard of anyone who'd lost a dog, but since she'd only recently moved back to Gale, she and Madeline had decided to consult an expert. Ruby's father, Red O'Toole, professed to know everybody in the county, but he hadn't heard of anyone who was missing a dog, either. He hadn't seen any lost-dog posters, and he would have remembered if somebody had posted a reward, which brought up another point.

“If you really had no intention of keeping him, you would have put up found-dog signs. Banjo?” she asked on a small victorious smile. “Spike? Goofy? Rover.”

“Madeline, he has a name.”

She started. “He does?” And then, after his meaning soaked in, she said, “He probably had a name once, but we don't know what it is. Was. He needs a new one. What about Skeeter? Charlie. King.”

Nothing.

“Bubba. Radar?”

More nothing.

“Ajax. Lucky. Rufus?”

Even Riley couldn't help smiling at that last one. He wondered how long it would take her to run out of suggestions.

Despite the apparent normalcy in the room, there was a current on the air, the thrum of something untried and appealing. He knew what he wanted, had known it from the moment he'd covered Madeline with that throw. It hadn't been easy to back away.

Ordinarily, Riley would have been enthusiastic about today's transaction. He'd never seen a more impressive collection of vintage cars. The owner had enthusiastically shared the history and story behind every one. Yet Riley had wanted to make the damn deal and get back to Gale.

Because Madeline was here.

She looked so tempting standing across the room right now, all sleepy-eyed and tousled, her hair in her face, her shirt wrinkled, her feet bare. He stayed near the door because if he came closer, he would reach for her. And it was too soon for that.

“If you want to spend your vacation uncovering my furniture,” he said a little more gruffly than he'd intended, “fine. But I'm not keeping this dog.”

She must have heard the steel in his voice, because she said, “Why?”

He didn't have to explain himself to her, but it had
to do with the pills he swallowed every day, and the reality always lurking.
Rejection.
Graft-versus-host disease, it was called. It was always possible and always ugly. The second scenario was slightly better, although the side effects to the drugs would eventually take their toll. It wasn't something he liked to think about and he sure as hell didn't talk about it, especially when there was something so much more invigorating happening right here in this very room.

“Maybe I
should
put up signs,” he said. “Maybe place an ad online and in the paper, too, if you think it'll do any good.”

“You're serious?” she asked.

Her disappointment was palpable. She went to the table with obvious reluctance and began rummaging through her big shoulder bag again. This time she brought out a camera.

“What are you doing?” he asked.

She snapped three pictures in quick succession. “I'm taking pictures for the ad. If you must know, I think you're making a huge mistake.”

“No,” he said.

“What?”

“No photographs.”

“Why on earth not?” she asked.

“Look at him. Why spoil his chances?”

Madeline looked at the dog and then at the
pictures of him in the digital camera's memory. Granted, he wasn't small and cute or sleek and beautiful, but most dog lovers didn't care what a dog looked like. Everything they needed to know could be seen in a creature's eyes. And this dog's eyes were serious and wise.

No matter what Riley said, he didn't want to include a photo because he didn't want anyone else to claim his dog. She didn't know why he wouldn't admit it, but she knew better than anybody that not everything had a simple explanation. Sometimes reasons were hidden, sometimes circumstances were extenuating.

He liked this dog. There was no doubt about that.

She practically ran across the room and didn't stop until her bare toes were almost touching the tips of his shoes. “I'm onto you, Riley Merrick.” Reaching up on tiptoe, she kissed his cheek.

He turned his head at the last second, so that her lips grazed his mouth. Her breath caught and her eyelashes flew up. His pupils were dilated in the shadowy room, so that his eyes looked darker. His jaw was set, the shallow cleft in his chin made more pronounced by the shadow of a day old beard.

She drew away slowly, her heart beating too fast and her breathing almost nonexistent. “I don't want to start something,” she whispered.

“I know,” he said, still holding her gaze. “I'll see you in the morning.”

Riley opened the door but waited to leave until he heard the scrape of the dead bolt. The dog sniffed the air on the way back to their side of the hedge. He took care of business then joined Riley on the covered porch.

Once inside, he and the dog followed their usual routine. The dog turned around three times before laying down on the pillow by the stove. Riley stopped in the main bathroom as he did twice every day. He opened the lids on the pill bottles and shook out the proper dosage of each. He swallowed the entire fistful at once. After washing them down with tap water, he wiped his mouth on the back of his hand. All the while he stared at his reflection.

He could still feel the whisper of Madeline's lips against his, could still smell the scent of her shampoo, and still remembered the surprise in her eyes.
I don't want to start something,
she'd said.

It was too late. Something already had.

T
he weatherman promised a sunny day.

Madeline scanned the dome of clouds overhead. Tugging the edges of her sweater together, she trudged down the sidewalk beside Riley. No, she refused to trudge. That would have suggested surliness.

Riley stopped in front of a utility pole on the corner of the busiest intersection in Gale and held out his hand. She didn't have much choice but to give him one of the neon yellow flyers with the dark brown lettering.

 

FOUND: DOG

Friendly brown male

Vicinity of

Shoreline Dr. & 3rd

Call 555-630-1022

 

What if he'd run away for a reason? She wished she'd never brought up the idea for the signs.

After Riley had left last night, she'd paced from one end of the cottage to the other. She'd told herself that she'd imagined the heat in his eyes before he'd walked out the door, and that her heart didn't teeter sideways when her lips had brushed his. She hadn't fooled herself, though.

When she'd finally gone to bed, she'd wanted so badly to dream of Aaron. Instead, she'd lain awake on the first official night of her vacation, listening to the wind croon and the water wash ashore.

It was getting more difficult to picture him in her mind. Aaron was snow cones and porch swings, slow dancing and knock-knock jokes. He'd been her lab partner in chemistry class and her date to every prom. They'd celebrated together when she'd passed her state boards and he landed his first teaching job. They'd been in step, in sync, in tune, in love.

She and Riley were nothing alike. She never knew
what
he
was going to say, let alone what he was thinking. He was a lightning strike, a riptide, and a sonic boom all rolled into one.

Last night, he'd made her want things she didn't want to want. Her stomach twisted on the truth even now.

I'll see you in the morning,
he'd said, but she hadn't gone looking for him today. She hadn't been ready to see him again. Instead, she'd set out for a nice, mind-clearing walk. She made it to the end of the driveway before she ran into him, his posters under one arm and the dog on the green leash. Of course they were going her way.

Her timing was pitiful.

With a sigh, she studied Riley's handiwork now affixed to the wooden utility poll. The poster was easy to read and would be difficult to overlook. It was even laminated in case it rained. Next to her, the somber dog looked on.

Out of the corner of his eye, Riley saw Madeline bend down and cover the dog's eyes. He felt a smile coming on.

“Do you think he can read?” he asked.

He was glad looks couldn't really kill. He grinned, which didn't help at all.

She was cross today. He didn't mind cross. In fact, he had a deep and abiding respect for the con
dition. A little heat under the collar was a sign of passion, and he would have to be a fool to mind that.

Her light blue sweater was belted at her waist, her cream-colored slacks snug enough to showcase a damned nice derriere. He didn't pretend to understand women's love affair with shoes but he appreciated what Madeline's heels did for an already appealing bit of anatomy.

He'd slept late for the first time in months. Church bells had been chiming when he'd rolled over in his king-size bed. He'd wished she was there.

If it had been any other woman, he would have called her, or better yet shown up with breakfast and let nature take its course. But she wasn't any other woman. She'd been through hell and was just beginning to laugh again. Any sudden moves would send her running. Rather than risk that, he'd decided to take the dog for a walk. Lo and behold, he'd met her at the end of her driveway.

His timing couldn't have been more perfect.

“If you're not a morning person, I respect that,” he said after pinning the last poster to the community bulletin board next to the library. “But if you're just having a bad day, having a little fun is good for what ails you.”

Madeline stopped so quickly the couple behind her had to veer around her to keep from running into her.
Riley waited for her out of the wind as if he had all the time in the world. “Something wrong?” he asked.

“Don't mind me, I'm having a revelation.”

“Take your time.”

Oh, that brash self-confidence, she thought. He wore black chinos today and a shirt in a fine, woven broadcloth the same shade of gray as the clouds. The spring in his step, the light in his eyes, and the grin lurking around the corners of his mouth, it was all fitting together in her mind. “You didn't have the nightmare last night, did you?”

“The nightmare, no.”

Some might insist it was a coincidence that he'd stopped having the dream after she'd arrived in Gale. It was easier to believe in a divine order when goods things were occurring. The bad experiences were harder to understand. She didn't have to understand everything. Some things, she had to simply accept. Perhaps this was one of those things.

Feeling a little more lighthearted herself, she said, “For months, my best friend has been telling me I need to have more fun.”

“No one can tell you how much fun to have. Me? I have standards and limits.”

“What kind of limits?” she couldn't help asking.

“I never do anything I wouldn't want to have to try to explain to the paramedics.”

His tone was teasing but somehow she believed there was a grain of truth in what he'd said.

“Aren't you going to ask about my standards?” he asked.

With a start she realized he'd caught her staring. She tried to look away, but couldn't. She was reminded of last night when he'd stood in her living room, his eyes heavy-lidded, his voice deep, his jaw darkened with a day-old beard.

“Not on your life,” she said.

“In that case, how about lunch?”

 

The scents of herbed butter and sautéed mushrooms wafted on the air as Madeline and Riley left the restaurant an hour later. Tucked on the hill between First Street and Shoreline Drive, Fiona's Bistro had round tables and white linens, rough plastered walls and polished wood floors. The food was superb.

In her mid-thirties, Fiona herself had stopped by their table. She had dark hair and hazel eyes, wore large diamonds in her ears and had a figure that strained the buttons on her white French blouse. “Hello, Riley,” she'd said with a sultry French accent. “Is everything to your liking?”

He'd let his gaze light on Madeline as he said, “As a matter of fact, it is.”

Madeline had wanted to nudge him under the table.

“The woman's in love with you!” she told him now as they waited for a car to pass so they could cross the street.

“I highly doubt that,” he said.

“I didn't see any dogs lying under anyone else's table. Obviously she's willing to make an exception for you.”

“Kipp and I did the renovations on the building two years ago,” he said. “I haven't been back since I moved to Gale.”

“Maybe you should.”

He said nothing, and Madeline wondered if he'd ever been in love. Somehow she doubted it. If he had, he would know that loving someone wasn't a conscious decision. It wasn't even a choice. Sighing, she found herself wanting to fill the ensuing silence.

“You could have been anything. Why architecture?”

“I like houses. No matter how grand the mansion or humble the hut, each begins with walls and a roof. The construction process involves basic physics, joinery and craftsmanship, but there's a point when a house becomes more than the components of its parts.” He looked at her, and didn't continue until she looked back at him. “When it's right, it feels right. You know it the way you know to breathe.”

Swallowing audibly, she said, “You're passionate about everything, your car, your food, your career.”

“And you're not?” he asked.

“I like what I do, but I chose nursing because it's safe.” It was true. It was just one of the decisions she and Aaron had made together. He would be a teacher. She would be a nurse. They would graduate from high school with honors, finish college, save for a house, plan their wedding, and someday have children, preferably a boy and a girl. Those dreams crashed down around them before either of them turned twenty-four.

“I'm definitely not a risk-taker, and I don't want you to think—”

He took her hand, stopping her in midsentence. “I don't know what you were like before I met you, but you took a risk when you burst through the gate at the construction site Friday. How many times have you thrown caution to the wind since? You asked me about Fiona. She's pleasant, but she wanted a commitment, and I'm not good at forever. You're staying five more days. It's up to us how far we take this attraction while you're here.”

He looked at her, and she knew. He was going to kiss her.

He tipped her head back with one finger and brought his mouth to hers. The instant their lips touched, the kiss spun into a roller coaster ride of sensation.

She'd expected his kiss to be polished and calcu
lated, a process to get from point A to point C. There was no point A. There was only a mating of lips and air and instinct. It was a blending, a melding of holding on and letting go. It was need in the present moment, and it was potent.

His lips were firm, the kiss wet and wild and a little rough on noses and chins. They simply adjusted the angle and opened their mouths, setting their moans free.

When it was over, she held perfectly still. Her knees didn't give out and the earth didn't move, but she knew that what he'd said was true. The connection between them was alive.

She backed up, swallowed. Her breath seemed to have solidified in her throat. She hadn't been kissed in a long time. And never quite like this. “I shouldn't have come here.”

“I disagree.”

Of course he did. When had he ever agreed with anything she'd said? “I should go home.”

“It's only five days, Madeline. If you leave, you'll never know what would have happened during those five days.”

He started for the arborvitae hedge, calling the dog as he went. She remained where she was until the pair of them disappeared on the other side. They didn't look back.

She wondered how it would feel to be so sure of something. She used to be that sure. That felt like another woman's life.

Shaken, she went in through the cottage's front door. Slowly turning in a circle, she sank to the sofa, only to jump up again. She ran into the bedroom and dropped onto all fours. She hauled her suitcase out from under the bed, then heaved it onto the mattress and unzipped it as if it was somehow at fault. She yanked the closet open and tossed the only dress she'd brought with her into the open suitcase on the bed. Her slicker went in next. Something fell from the pocket and fluttered to the floor.

Aaron lay staring up at her.

She went utterly still for a moment. Her heart constricted and her lips quivered. It was the last photograph she'd taken of him. He'd been late for school, but had turned when she'd called his name. There was liveliness in his blue eyes. It was the last time she would ever see him smile.

She scooped the photo off the floor and made a run for the back door. She didn't stop until the heels of her shoes sank into the wet sand at the water's edge.

Heart aching, she stared into the distance. The lake was blue and empty today, and so mighty, eighty miles across. Overhead the dome of clouds was lift
ing. The weatherman had been right. It was going to be a sunny day.

She fell to her knees, and the tears that had been welling ran down her face. They burned her eyes, caught in her mouth, and gathered at her jaw before dropping onto the wet sand.

She wrapped her arms around herself. Rocking back and forth, she let it out, every futile wish, everything it did no good to say.

She cried for Aaron and for all their plans, for the wedding that never occurred and the babies that would never be born. He'd never met her mom and dad. It seemed impossible, but their paths never crossed on this earth. She wanted things to be different. She wanted Aaron to be here, and she wanted her parents to know him. She wanted so badly to say, “Mama, it isn't fair.”

It wasn't fair.

None of it was fair.

Every so often somebody back home reminisced about how excited her mom and dad had been when the doctor had said, “It's a girl!” After having three boys, they'd imagined sugar and spice and everything nice. Instead their little darling had been a complete tomboy with pigtails, skinned knees and thin excuses. If it had branches Madeline climbed it, if it had a tail she rode it, and if it was forbidden, she wanted it.

Her hand went to her mouth.

She hadn't thought about her early years in a long time. She remembered the day she'd stopped climbing trees, the day she chose an orderly life over mischief. It was after her parents' icy pile-up on the freeway that fated February day when she was twelve years old. Marsh had moved back home and he and Reed took over the orchard and raising her and Noah. About that time Aaron took the vacant desk next to hers in homeroom in the seventh grade. What began as a friendship in the fifth grade instantly bloomed into a budding first love.

She cried harder than ever, raw, wrenching sobs that hurt her throat and her ribs and stomach. She didn't want her relationship with Aaron to have been the result of her need for something solid. He'd been the love of her life, the other half of her whole. He had.

Yes, he had.

She felt the warm body at her side before she saw him. Although the dog made no sound, she wasn't afraid. He gave her time to adjust to his presence then sidled closer.

“Did Riley let you out?” she asked on a whimper.

Smelling of dog shampoo and lake water, he let her put her arms around him, offering his warmth, asking for nothing. As she laid her cheek on the thick fur on his back, she caught a glimpse of Riley retreat
ing from view. He'd done more than let the dog out. He'd sent him to her.