This Matter Of Marriage (24 page)

“Well, my friend, marriage and family are about to be yours.” Hallie sounded downright gleeful. “One look at Todd, and I could tell he's got a high sperm count.”

“Hallie!”

“You want children, don't you?” Hallie's voice had become serious again.

“Yes, but—”

“Oh, Donnalee, don't worry. Everything's going to be fine.”

Donnalee found herself smiling for the first time since she'd arrived home. She did feel better. They chatted for a few more minutes and then rang off.

Keeping busy would help, Donnalee felt certain. If she just kept moving, kept doing routine tasks, sooner or later everything would fall back into place and she could get on with living. She put a load of clothes in the wash. She reorganized her refrigerator. She was plugging in the vacuum when she looked out the window—and her heart stopped. Todd's car was parked in front of her condo. Paralyzed, she watched as he climbed out, walked halfway to her front door, paused and then turned back.

The paralysis snapped. She rushed to the door and threw it open to find him standing on her doorstep, hand raised to knock.

Speechless they stared at each other.

Todd shoved his hands in his back pockets and refused to meet her eyes.

It was over, Donnalee told herself bleakly. He'd come to tell her he didn't want to see her again. A darkness had descended on her when her marriage ended, and it had taken her years to fight her way back into the light. Donnalee thought it might kill her if Todd walked away from her now.

“Walk away from you?” he said.

Good heavens, she'd said it aloud! Mortified to the very marrow of her bones, Donnalee wanted to bury her face in her hands.

“I didn't come back to tell you I don't want to see you again,” he said. “I was trying to figure out a way to ask if you'd be willing to see
me
again after what happened this weekend. I didn't mean for things to get so intense so quickly. I was afraid I'd rushed you and ruined any chance I had with you.”

“You didn't ruin your chances with me. If anything…

Oh, Todd, I'm so glad you're here!” She leapt off the step and into his embrace.

Todd locked his arms around her. She didn't let him speak, but spread kisses, one after another, all over his face. “I want to see you again. I need to see you again and again and again.”

“I'm not sure I'm any real bargain,” Todd murmured between kisses.

“
I'm
sure.” She directed his mouth to hers and kissed him with a thoroughness that left them both breathless.

“The first thing you'll need to learn is that it's useless to argue with me,” she told him, knowing he could see the happiness radiating from her eyes.

“But maybe it's too soon…” He continued to hold her, continued to stroke her hair.

“As far as I'm concerned, it's about fourteen years too late.”

“Oh, Donnalee, this is all so crazy.” He released her and took two steps away from her, as if he wanted to turn tail and run.

“But it's a wonderful kind of crazy! I found you again and I'm not about to let you go. Let's both accept that we were meant to be together and leave it at that.” She reached for his hand and led him into her home. Without pausing she closed the door and pushed him down on the sofa, then promptly sat on his lap and wrapped her arms around his neck. “It looks like you need to be convinced. How long do you think it'll take?” she asked.

Todd grinned. “How about forty or fifty years?”

S
teve was astonished how quiet the house was after the kids returned to Mary Lynn. He'd moped around yesterday—Sunday—fighting off a sense of loneliness, but that passed soon enough.

He loved his children to distraction, and he'd enjoyed the two weeks they'd spent with him, yet in the past year he'd learned to appreciate solitude, too. He was comfortable with silence now. In the early days of his separation, it had damn near driven him crazy. But over time he'd managed to accept the traumatic changes in his life; he'd adjusted to strange new schedules, such as seeing his kids only on weekends.

He was grateful Meagan and Kenny had adapted so well to their new circumstances, and grateful that he and Mary Lynn had been able to maintain civility in their dealings.

If he was making a list of things to be grateful for, Steve figured he should include Hallie. She'd come to his aid more times than he could count, especially during the past couple of weeks. Thinking back, he realized that Meagan and Kenny had spent nearly as much time at her place as they had at his.

The blind dinner date they'd arranged for each other hadn't gone as planned, but these things happened, and he didn't take it personally. Hallie had seemed a little upset in the beginning, but she'd been a good sport about it since. And she seemed genuinely pleased that the date had worked out so well for her friend.

Standing in front of his refrigerator, Steve surveyed the contents, wondering what he could rustle up for dinner. Cooking for one didn't excite him. Briefly he wondered what Hallie was eating. More often than not these past two weeks she'd either cooked or joined him and the kids for dinner, and he'd come to rely on her suggestions.

Steve glanced out the window to see if she was home. He strained to catch a glimpse of her car, and his spirits lifted when he saw it. So far, so good. Then, feeling a bit like a Peeping Tom, he focused on her kitchen window. Ah, yes, there she was, talking on the phone. She had the cord wrapped about her wrist, and from the way she leaned against the wall, he could tell she was annoyed about something. After a moment she hung up, then immediately reached for the phone again.

His own phone rang and he jerked around. “Hello, Hallie,” he answered, thinking himself rather clever.

“Guess what?” she said furiously. “Arnold just called to break our date tonight. That's the third time he's canceled out on me at the last minute, the low-down dirty rat.”

Steve didn't understand why Hallie continued to see the guy. She'd never been keen on him, yet she insisted on beating the relationship to death. Although Steve had never been introduced to Arnold, he could tell it was a lost cause just from the few glimpses he'd caught when he was out jogging or—
let's be honest, Marris
—watching him through the window.

“I bought theater tickets through the Chamber of Commerce for this wonderful production I'd been looking forward to seeing.” Hallie sounded exasperated and angry. “Arnold had agreed to come and now…” She sighed. “The thing is, I've got two perfectly good tickets, which I refuse to waste.”

“Maybe you can exchange the tickets for another night and go with Arnold then.”

“I don't ever plan to see Arnold again. I told him so, and what annoyed me even more than being stood up is his attitude. He
expected
me to break it off, and he even seemed relieved when I told him.” She paused long enough to catch her breath. “Anyway, I can't exchange them and I don't want to waste them.”

He didn't bother to suggest she go by herself. If she'd considered that an option, she wouldn't have called. He was afraid she planned to ask him and groaned inwardly at the thought. Frankly, it'd been a long hard day and he wasn't interested in sitting through a play, no matter how good it was reported to be. “What about Donnalee and Todd?” he tried.

“Donnalee and Todd? You're joking, right?”

“I guess I am.” Well, Hallie was right. Those two were in their own little world. Every morning of the past week, Todd had arrived at the office wearing a silly grin. Silly, perhaps, but also…satisfied. Steve had never seen a man so much in love.

“Can you go with me?” Hallie pleaded. “Oh, shoot. Monday's your bowling night, isn't it?”

“No,” he was sorry to report. “The league takes a break during the summer.”

“Then please, please come with me.”

It was one of the rare times she'd requested anything of him. In that moment Steve realized he didn't have the heart to refuse her.

“How formal is it?”

She hesitated, a sure sign he wasn't going to like her response. “You'll need to wear a suit,” she informed him. “Dark, if you have one.”

He cursed silently. “I do.”

He hated that suit. Hated it more every time he was forced to wear it. He kept the thing around primarily for weddings and funerals, so he hadn't worn it in some time, since most of his friends were married and no one he knew had died recently. What he particularly loathed was wearing a tie, which felt like a noose around his neck.

“Does that mean you'll go?”

Steve paused and reminded himself of all the times Hallie had come to his rescue. “I guess,” he muttered.

“A little enthusiasm would go a long way, Marris,” she muttered back.

Steve grinned. “I'm beginning to think Arnold might have had the right idea.”

“I think not. These tickets were fifty bucks. Each.”

A hundred bucks was nothing to sneeze at. “What time do you need me to be ready?”

“Seven-thirty.” He could hear the relief in her voice and was pleased that he was the one responsible for it.

“Are you throwing in dinner with this invitation?” If he was going to strangle himself with a suit and tie, he might as well get as much out of it as he could.

“You expect me to buy you dinner, too?”

She had a point there, but the kids had cleaned out his checking account. “I'll bring a can of chili,” he said.

“I've got…” He turned to the window and watched as she stretched the phone cord as far as her refrigerator door and bent over while she sorted through its contents. Actually, he appreciated the view of her cute little butt. “There's a head of lettuce here and some cheddar cheese. We could make a taco salad. Do you have any chips?”

“If Kenny didn't find them, I do.”

“Okay, you're on.”

It was a pleasant surprise to discover what culinary magic Hallie could make with a can of chili and a few leaves of lettuce. And he had to admit dinner was a lot more enjoyable with her company.

For fear of dribbling salad dressing on his one tie, knotted for him years ago by Todd, Steve changed into his suit after dinner. He suddenly recalled the last time he'd worn it—the day he stood before the judge when his divorce was finalized. He discovered his attorney's business card in the jacket pocket and quickly tossed it in the garbage.

As he looped the tie over his head and tightened it, he reflected on that devastating day. He'd been divorced more than a year and a half now, separated even longer. It didn't seem possible. The familiar pain threatened to darken his mood, but he managed to ignore its pull. Mary Lynn had remarried and life had gone on. Not the way he'd wanted, but he'd survived. He was even experiencing some of his old pleasures again and finding new ones.

When he arrived to pick up Hallie, he did a double take. The deep blue dress, slinky, silky and body-hugging, did incredible things for her figure. This was Hallie? Damn, he'd never noticed how well proportioned she was. Everything was right where it was supposed to be. And how.

His first thought when he saw her—other than how good she looked—was to wonder if a dress like that required a bra. Not that it was any of his business, but he couldn't help being curious. The sleeveless gown stretched tightly across her chest and hooked behind the neck. Yup, he was almost certain she was braless.

He released a low whistle.

“You like it?” Hallie held her hands stiffly out at her sides—a bit like a penguin, she thought—as she turned in a slow circle to give him the full effect.

“Wow.” He'd have whistled a second time if he'd found the breath to do so, but she'd stolen it. Telling her she looked good was an understatement. A gross understatement. Arnold was more of a fool than Steve had realized.

“You look…” All descriptive words and phrases deserted him.

“Fat,” she supplied. She pouched out her stomach, what there was of it, which to his mind wasn't much.

“No!” He'd never been a flatterer, and he'd always struggled with compliments. It was a talent, Steve decided, and unfortunately one he lacked. Hallie waited expectantly. It was the same look Mary Lynn used to get when she needed him to say just the right thing to reassure her. The pressure was building and he was afraid he'd fail Hallie the same way he'd too often failed Mary Lynn.

“You look wonderful.” It was the best he could do. He paused and waited for some sign of reaction.

She closed her eyes and exhaled.

“Really wonderful,” he added, hoping that would help.

“Thank you.” She smiled softly. “I won't tell you what this dress cost, but I fell in love with it the minute I tried it on. Let me just say that I'll be packing my own lunch for the next ten years.”

“Whatever the price, it was worth it.”

“You can be a real charmer when you want to be, Marris.”

Him? A charmer? Not likely, but if Hallie wanted to think so, he wasn't going to correct her.

The play was at the Fifth Avenue Theater in downtown Seattle. Their aisle seats were in the first row of the balcony. Steve stopped counting the number of times he had to stand in order to allow other ticket holders into their seats.

Hallie acknowledged several people. A number of names were tossed his way, and he soon quit trying to remember them all. He was a member of the local Chamber of Commerce himself, but he did little more than pay his dues. He'd only attended two meetings in all the years he'd owned his business. From the looks of it, Hallie was an outgoing and popular member, which didn't surprise him.

The theater darkened and the play began. It didn't take Steve long to realize it wasn't a play at all. It was an opera. All the lines were sung. He opened his program and read it for the first time. He didn't recognize the opera's title, but it was clearly German.

While he was no aficionado, Steve liked classical music as much as the next guy, but this was no Mozart. The composer wasn't one he knew or cared to.

Hallie's rapt attention was focused on the stage. As far as Steve could figure, the opera was some tragedy that had people running back and forth across the stage. There were frequent deaths, too—but not frequent enough.

By the end of the first scene, Steve's attention began wandering. He studied the lovely crystal light fixtures suspended from the ceiling, craning his head back as far as possible to get a better view. The theater had recently been renovated and he was impressed with the improvements.

“Steve?” Hallie was frowning at him. “Is something wrong?”

“Nah, just checking out the new fixtures,” he whispered loudly. “I wonder if they're real crystal. You wouldn't happen to know, would you?”

“I wouldn't know.”

“The seats are new, too.”

“Uh-huh.”

He rotated his shoulders, testing out the cushions for comfort and gave a thumbs-up.

Hallie rolled her eyes and reverted her attention to the stage.

Quickly bored, Steve asked her for a pen.

Hallie leaned forward for her handbag, and Steve was given a momentary peek at her front. He'd been right. No bra.

Once she'd retrieved her pen, she placed it in his hand with just a hint of impatience. Steve doodled geometric designs across the front page of the program and then found himself drawing what resembled—he hated to admit it—a series of female breasts. Actually, he was surprised by how good he was.

Years earlier he'd visited an art museum, where he'd seen a painting by one of the century's more revered artists. The painting was on loan, part of a highly touted exhibit, and Steve had studied it for several minutes. All he'd seen was a clothes hanger with two misshapen boobs. The breasts weren't even properly aligned, and yet the artist had made millions.

Steve toyed with the idea of sending his doodles to the artist's agent. Perhaps this was his life's calling and he'd make a fortune drawing breasts. He kind of liked the idea. Hiring women to pose for him, that sort of thing.

With that thought in mind he sketched a couple of ideas. He drew a torso and gave the woman four breasts with multiple nipples. He was just warming to his subject when Hallie glanced over at what he was doing, gasped and grabbed the program away from him. Giving him a pinched-lip look, she promptly crumpled it up.

Okay, okay, he got the hint. Steve tried to pay attention to the actors, he really did, but he'd rarely seen anything this boring. Opera had never appealed to him. Large women who wore helmets with horns and stormed across a stage holding spears and pretending to be warriors were of questionable sexual persuasion as far as he was concerned.