This Matter of Marriage

by Debbie Macomber

  She stood slowly, her legs weak and trembling. “I’m sorry,” she said, her words breaking as she struggled to speak.

  “Sorry?” Sanford looked confused and Donnalee sympathized. Her friends would call her a fool for letting Sanford go. He was a good man, a loving person, and she loved him, but this one thing came between them. He didn’t want children.

  For days she’d walked around attempting to convince herself that she’d made the right decision in agreeing to marry him. But no matter how adamantly or how often she said it, she couldn’t make herself believe it.

  Unable to speak, Donnalee removed the diamond from her finger and handed it to Sanford.

  He shook his head in puzzlement. “I don’t understand. Don’t you like the ring?”

  “Very much. It’s just that… Oh, I feel so awful about this.” She bit her lower lip hard enough to taste blood. “I’ve decided it would be a mistake for us to marry.”

  He paled. “You don’t mean that.”

  “I’d give just about anything if it wasn’t true. I’ve tried to tell myself it didn’t matter, us not having a family…”

  “So that’s what this is all about.” His face tightened, and she knew he was closing himself off from her.

  “I’m not judging you for that,” she went on. “It’s not right to bring children into the world if they aren’t loved and wanted. You recognize that, which says a great deal about the kind of man you are—honest, mature…”

  “Then what’s the problem?”

  “I’m the problem,” she whispered, fighting to hold back tears. “Me, not you. Please don’t think I blame you in any way.”

  “You’re going to have to explain this a little more clearly, Donnalee.”

  She wasn’t sure she could. “I married when I was young and for all the wrong reasons. I was in love, or so I thought. I had this dream of raising a houseful of happy children, being an at-home mom while they were young, continuing with my own education after they started school. I had this warm wonderful fantasy—and I had a husband who’d married me for all the wrong reasons.” She took a deep breath. “I thought my dream had died with the divorce. But you woke that dream in me again. You allowed me to believe in the possibility of it. Your love restored what my ex-husband stole from me.

  “I do love you, Sanford. But I want children. More than I ever realized. And you don’t. It would be wrong to marry you under these circumstances.”

  He didn’t say anything for a long moment. “You’re sure of this?”

  “Yes,” she whispered, her voice cracking under the strain of her anguish.

  “Then that says it all, doesn’t it?”

  “Yes…”

  “I hope you get what you want, Donnalee.”

  “You, too.” She saw regret in his eyes, even some pain. But without another word, he pocketed the diamond and walked away. In her heart of hearts, she knew she’d never see him again.

  Somehow Donnalee made it home. She didn’t remember getting into her car, driving, entering her house—nothing. She sat in her living room, arms wrapped protectively around herself, feeling a numbness that was very like what she’d experienced after her divorce.

  Eventually she phoned Hallie. She needed a shoulder to cry on. Someone to talk to. A friend.

  Hallie was on her doorstep within the hour.

  “I knew something was wrong,” Hallie said forcefully when Donnalee answered the door.

  “I broke off the engagement,” Donnalee whispered, sobbing and shaking.

  Hallie said nothing. Taking Donnalee by the hand, she led the way into the kitchen and pushed her gently into a chair. Hallie moved about as if it was her own home, opening and closing drawers, putting a kettle of water on to brew tea. “My mother always said nothing’s quite as bad over a pot of tea.”

  Donnalee was content to let her friend do as she pleased.

  “All right,” Hallie said, carrying two steaming china cups and saucers to the table. “Tell me why.”

  “You’ll call me a fool,” Donnalee said, and blew her nose into a crumpled tissue. “Everyone will.”

  Hallie frowned. “I doubt that. What did Sanford do—wear panty hose to bed?”

  Donnalee laughed and wept at the same time. “Hardly.” The picture was ludicrous. Sanford in panty hose.

  “Are there problems with the family? His mother refused to allow another woman in her son’s life, right?”

  “No.” Again, laughing and crying, Donnalee shook her head. She grabbed a fresh tissue, inhaled deeply, then announced, “Sanford doesn’t want children.”

  Hallie slowly lowered her teacup. “No children?”

  “He doesn’t like children. He doesn’t want them in his life.”

  “Not even his own?”

  Donnalee wearily closed her eyes. “No. He’s very certain of how he feels—so certain he’s had a vasectomy. It’d be foolish to get married, hoping that in time he’d change his mind. And even if he did, there’s no guarantee the procedure could be reversed.” She wiped her eyes. “Getting married would be unfair to both of us. Unfair and wrong.”

  “I agree.” Hallie gripped Donnalee’s hand and squeezed her fingers.

  “I tried to believe we could be happy, just him and me—but, Hallie, I want a family. Every time I see a young mother I find myself longing for the day I’ll have a child of my own. I want to feel a baby growing inside me.”

  “It was holding my sister’s baby that woke me up, remember?” Hallie reminded her in a soft voice.

  Donnalee smiled tremulously. Her friend had recently framed a photograph of herself and the baby. In it, Hallie sat in a rocking chair cradling Ellen, gazing at her with a raptness and a wide-eyed concentration that revealed the intensity of her desire.

  “I know plenty of women are single mothers by choice,” Donnalee said, sipping the hot tea, feeling it begin to revive her. “But I want it all. Husband, traditional family, the whole thing. Am I being selfish?”

  “No,” Hallie said, her voice rising with the strength of her conviction.

  They sat in silence for a while. “How did Sanford take it?” Hallie asked at last.

  “He didn’t argue with me. I know he was hurt, but then so am I. I should never have accepted the engagement ring, but I’d convinced myself I could live with his decision. Not until later did I realize I… just couldn’t.”

  “Oh, Donnalee, I’m so sorry.”

  “I am, too. I thought I’d be content lavishing love and attention on my sister’s two children. But then, a couple of Saturdays ago, I had my niece and nephew over—so Sanford could meet them. In the back of my mind, I was thinking, hoping really, that he’d be so enthralled with them he’d be willing to reconsider.”

  “Didn’t work, huh?”

  “Hardly.” She raised her eyes to the ceiling. “It was a disaster. Katie and Ben are six and eight, and it didn’t take them two minutes to pick up on his attitude. San-ford and the kids did an admirable job of ignoring each other. After we dropped them off at the house, he asked how often I’d be seeing them and—” it was painful to say the words “—he hoped I didn’t mind, but in the future, if I wanted them around, he’d prefer that he wasn’t.”

  “Oh, my.”

  “I understand his feelings. He’s never spent any time with children. He’s an only child and he feels awkward around kids.”

  “There’ll be someone else for you,” Hallie said with such confidence Donnalee was tempted to believe her.

  “Yeah, but is it going to take me another thirteen years to find him?”

  “I doubt it.” She ran the tip of her finger along the edge of the china cup. “Do what I’m doing and take a breather. Give yourself time to get over this, then try again. There’s someone else waiting and wondering if the right woman is out there for him. I comfort myself with that whenever I think about giving all this up. Next time you’ll find someone who wants the same things you want. I’m sure of it.”

  “You know what I�
�m going to do?” Donnalee said, feeling better already.

  “Tell me.”

  “I’ve got two weeks’ vacation scheduled, and I’m going to take one of them, call my mom and book us a trip to Hawaii. I’ve never been there and we could both use a break.”

  “That sounds like a great idea.” Hallie stood and refilled their cups. “I know how difficult this is for you. I want you to know how much I respect you for refusing to compromise your dreams. You will find the right man.”

  Donnalee wanted with all her heart to believe that. In the beginning Sanford had seemed to be that man. But now… She looked at Hallie, grateful for the friendship they shared.

  A good friendship—like this one with Hallie—endured. It sustained you during times of crisis. It was there for you during the good times and the bad.

  The same thing, Donnalee reflected, couldn’t always be said of romance.

  Fifteen

  What Friends Are For

  “Hey, Dad, do you know what tomorrow is?” Meagan asked Steve as he led the way from the soccer field to the parking lot. He’d played on an adult league for a couple of years, and both kids participated in the children’s fall league. Steve enjoyed helping them hone their skills. It was good for killing a Sunday afternoon, like today, when the kids were restless and ready to go back to their mother and their friends. Their weekday lives. It hurt to know they were sometimes eager to leave him, but he swallowed that pain along with everything else the divorce had brought.

  “Dad, I asked if you know what tomorrow is,” Meagan said impatiently.

  Other than the fact that tomorrow was the twenty-eighth of April, Steve had no idea. He’d never been much good at remembering important dates. Valentine’s Day had come and gone, St. Patrick’s Day, as well as April Fools’ Day. Mary Lynn’s birthday… no, that couldn’t be it. That was last month and he’d actually remembered it. What the hell was so important about April?

  “Hallie’s birthday,” Meagan announced. “She’s turning thirty. Her friend sent her flowers, and when I asked her, she said they were for her birthday. She said it was the big three-O.”

  “Really?” Steve hadn’t seen much of his neighbor lately. He got a kick out of her reaction to his husband-hunting advice—he’d heard from the kids that she’d signed up for cooking classes. He knew he’d offended her by mentioning a woman’s bustline, but what he’d said was the truth. He wasn’t talking about himself, of course. He didn’t spend a lot of time looking at a woman’s chest. Oh hell, he’d own up to it. He did look now and then. What man didn’t?

  “She isn’t dating anyone,” Kenny added, climbing into the car behind his sister. The kids preferred him to take his car rather than his work truck. More room.

  “How come?” he asked. His kids saw far more of Hallie than he did.

  “She’s regrouping,” Meagan explained.

  “Yeah, she’s baking cookies and stuff.” Kenny bounced the soccer ball on his knee. “When I asked her why, do you know what she said? She said men needed help knowing they wanted to get married. Is that true, Dad?”

  “Ah… I guess so.”

  “Do you like Hallie?” The question came from his daughter.

  “Like her? Sure.”

  “I mean like her.”

  “You mean romantically?” Steve knew that was exactly what Meagan meant. He could tell by his daughter’s tone that his answer was important to her. Wouldn’t his kids be more interested in seeing him back with their mother? Most children were. Maybe they knew something he didn’t.

  “Hallie’s a wonderful person,” Steve answered carefully. “I like her a lot, but she isn’t the woman for me.” It didn’t seem necessary to remind his children that the only woman he’d ever loved was their mother.

  “Why isn’t she the woman for you?” Kenny asked.

  “Well, because… she just isn’t. Don’t get me wrong, Hallie’s great, but—”

  “She isn’t Mom,” Meagan finished for him, and he thought he heard a note of sadness in her voice.

  “Yeah,” he said. “She isn’t your mother.”

  “But Mom’s dating Kip,” Kenny threw in.

  The sound of the man’s name made Steve clench his teeth. He didn’t know where Mary Lynn was going with this relationship or how serious it was. Every time he asked her she got defensive.

  “So she’s still seeing the ol’ Kiperroo,” Steve joked, trying to disguise his concern.

  “A lot.” Kenny sighed deeply.

  This was the last thing Steve wanted to hear, but he’d rather know the truth so he could deal with it. Clearly it was time to change tactics if he wanted to win back his ex-wife. This hands-off wait-and-see-what-happens-with-Kip approach hadn’t worked. He’d call Mary Lynn, he decided, and talk to her again. Soon.

  “I think you should ask Hallie out,” Meagan said, studying him intently.

  “Hallie and me on a date?” Steve tried to keep it light. “No way.”

  “But she’s a lot of fun, Dad,” Kenny insisted. “And her chocolate-chip cookies are real good. She let me take some to the guys last week and everyone liked ’em.” He paused. “She’s funny, too. She bakes all these cookies and then gives them away. I asked her why she doesn’t eat some, and she said it’s because she’s come to hate her treadmill.”

  Steve grinned.

  “Will you think about going out with Hallie sometime?” Meagan asked.

  He should have known his daughter wouldn’t let this drop. “I’ll think about it,” he promised.

  “Which means no,” Meagan muttered.

  Steve felt he had to justify his hesitation. “Not so,” he argued. “I will think about it.” The last thing he wanted was to disappoint his kids, but he couldn’t allow them to dictate his love life.

  Steve didn’t give his conversation with Meagan and Kenny another thought until the following evening. He’d never been keen on yard work, but the lawn badly needed to be mowed. Monday afternoon he returned home from work and decided he couldn’t delay that chore any longer. If he did, the condo association might come pounding on his door.

  At least the weather was beautiful, unseasonably warm and summer-bright. Perfect for outdoor tasks.

  Steve made sure he had a couple of bottles of cold beer in the refrigerator before he started. It took three tugs to get the old mower going, but it finally kicked in.

  Being a generous kind-hearted soul, or so he told himself, he tossed aside his shirt and mowed Hallie’s half of the shared yard when he’d finished his own. She’d done more than one favor for him, and he appreciated knowing that Meagan and Kenny could stay at her place if he was late on Friday afternoons.

  It was when he turned off the lawn mower that he heard the music. A blues number. The wail of a solitary saxophone that seemed to speak of sadness and trouble. He thought the music was coming from Hallie’s place.

  He stood quietly, listening to be sure. When he glanced through her sliding glass door, he caught a glimpse of her lying on the living-room carpet, arms spread out. Her eyes were closed and she wore the woeful look of a woman done wrong. He paused and wondered what that was all about. Then he remembered what Meagan had told him.

  This was the day Hallie turned thirty.

  Steve had spent his last two birthdays alone. He’d tried to tell himself he didn’t care, that birthday celebrations were for kids. But he remembered the empty feeling in the pit of his stomach when he’d climbed into bed those nights, regretting that there hadn’t been anyone around to make a fuss over him.

  Was anyone making a fuss over Hallie? Like him, she’d probably heard from her family and a few friends—one of them had sent her flowers. But she was alone now and obviously miserable. Poor thing. His heart went out to her.

  Steve showered and changed clothes, but couldn’t forget how depressed and lonely Hallie had looked. Hell, he’d been there himself.

  Before he could change his mind he stuck a candle in a snack cake, grabbed the two bottles of beer and kno
cked on her front door.

  He listened as the mournful music abruptly ended. A moment later he heard the lock turn as she opened the front door.

  “Happy birthday to you,” he sang, and handed her the chocolate-flavored cupcake.

  “Who told you?” she asked, wide-eyed with surprise and what he hoped was delight.

  “The kids. Hey, it isn’t every day you celebrate your thirtieth birthday.”

  “Come on in,” she said, leading the way into her living room. “Although I don’t know that I’m fit company.”

  “Because you’ve turned the dreaded three-O?” He’d heard some women saw thirty as the end of their youth, which struck him as ridiculous. Besides, if the kids hadn’t told him, he wouldn’t have guessed Hallie was a day over twenty-five. All right, twenty-eight.

  “Thirty,” she muttered, collapsing onto the sofa, “and not a marriage prospect in sight.”

  Steve uncapped one of the beers and passed it to her. “Tell Uncle Stevie all about it.”

  “Uncle Stevie?”

  “Hey, I’m five years your senior. I’ve spit in the eye of middle age—spreading middle, weak knees, failing eyesight and everything.”

  A smile twitched at the corners of her mouth.

  “Thirty’s not so bad,” he assured her, “once you get used to it.”

  “That isn’t all. I have other reasons for being depressed.”

  “You owe the IRS?” Since they both owned their own businesses, he knew what a killer tax time could be.

  “Yes,” she said with a groan, as if he’d reminded her of something else to be depressed about. “But that’s the bad news with the good. I made more money than I did last year, so I can’t really complain too much.” She tipped back the bottle and took a respectable swig of beer.

  Some women sipped beer like they were tasting fine single-malt Scotch. Not Hallie, and he liked her the better for it.

  “I gained back five of the ten pounds I lost,” she said plaintively. “I suffered to lose those five pounds. One little slip with the double-fudge macadamia-nut ice cream and they’re back.”