This Matter of Marriage

by Debbie Macomber

  Steve felt fortunate to have a neighbor like Hallie McCarthy. When he counted his blessings, she was among them. He sure hoped she found a man worthy of her.

  Todd struck out at bat. He’d been in a hitting slump during their recent practice sessions, and now he returned to the dugout muttering curses.

  “Don’t worry about it,” Steve said. “This is only the first game of the season.”

  Todd looked as if he wanted to say something, but instead, he found himself a quiet corner and sat there scowling. If it had been one of his kids, Steve would have called it pouting.

  After the game several of the team members, including Todd, decided to stop off at the local watering hole for a few cold beers. Steve declined, not wanting to answer uncomfortable questions about Mary Lynn. He’d said everything there was to say and didn’t care to elaborate.

  It was still daylight when he arrived home. He noted that Hallie’s car had been parked in the same spot for the past two days. It wasn’t the kind of thing he normally paid much attention to, but she was just shy of being ticketed for parking too close to a fire hydrant.

  He glanced at her condo as he started walking toward his own. It probably wouldn’t hurt to check on her, he decided. Yeah, that was the neighborly thing to do.

  She responded to his knock by calling faintly for him to come inside. Steve opened the front door to discover her sprawled on the sofa amid a conglomeration of pillows and blankets. Dressed in an old robe, she lay facedown, her arm dangling over the edge, knuckles brushing the carpet. A variety of medicines lined the coffee table, along with three or four dirty cups, a box of tissues and a thermometer. An empty wash bucket was positioned close by.

  “You look like hell,” he said. “Are you sick or something?”

  “You don’t miss much, do you?” She didn’t lift her head.

  “My, my, are we a little testy? And what, by the way, is your front door doing open? This isn’t ‘Little House on the Prairie,’ you know.”

  “Don’t come any closer,” she called, raising her arm to stop him. “Believe me, you don’t want whatever brand of flu I’ve got.” She frowned. “Oh, the door. Donnalee’s supposed to come over later, and I wasn’t sure I’d have the energy to get up and let her in.”

  “Have you seen a doctor?” he asked.

  “I’m too sick to see a doctor. Do Hook like I’m in any condition to drive?” she returned crankily.

  “No,” Steve admitted. “Do you need someone to take you?”

  She appeared to consider his question. “Thanks, but no thanks. The worst of it’s passed.” Then she added, “I appreciate the offer, though.”

  He walked into her kitchen, which was, to put it mildly, a mess. Used mugs and glasses littered every surface. An empty orange-juice container had toppled and the last dregs of juice had dried on the counter. A package of soda crackers lay open, crumbs scattered about.

  “When was the last time you ate?” he asked, poking his head around the living-room corner.

  “Please,” she whispered miserably, “don’t talk about food. I haven’t been able to keep anything down for two days.”

  “I hope you’re drinking plenty of liquids.”

  “I must be, otherwise there wouldn’t be anything to vomit.”

  She had his sympathy there; he knew what it was like to be sick and alone. He stuck the dirty dishes in the dishwasher and wiped off the counter.

  “Thank you,” she said when he brought her a cup of tea.

  “Anything else I can do for you?”

  “Would you mind helping me into the bathroom?” she asked weakly. “I tried to get up earlier, but I felt light-headed.”

  “Of course.”

  She sat up, and he saw that her skin was pale, her hair on one side had gone completely flat, and the upholstery of her sofa had left a floral imprint on her cheek. She wrapped the housecoat around her and tied the sash.

  She swayed when she stood upright, and he slid his arm around her waist to steady her. Once he was confident that she could maintain her balance, he guided her down the hallway. He turned on the bathroom light.

  “Would you move the scale away from the wall for me?” she asked in the same weak voice.

  “The scale?” he asked incredulously.

  “I want to weigh myself.”

  Steve was certain he’d misunderstood. “Why in the name of heaven would you want to do that?”

  She gave him a look that suggested the answer couldn’t be more obvious. “To see how much weight I’ve lost,” she explained, enunciating each word with painstaking clarity. “I haven’t had anything but juice and crackers for two days.”

  It made no sense to him, but Steve knew better than to argue. He crouched down to pull the scale away from the wall.

  “There,” he said, patiently waiting for her to step forward.

  She hesitated. “You can’t look.”

  “I beg your pardon?”

  “Turn around.”

  “For the love of…” But Steve did as she requested and turned his back. He heard Hallie step on the scale, and then a pathetically feeble cry of triumph.

  “I take it you’ve lost?”

  “Yes,” she answered in a whisper. “Isn’t that wonderful?”

  “If you say so.” He’d never understood why Hallie was so obsessed about her weight. He thought she looked just fine. Yet the entire time he’d known her, she’d analyzed everything she put in her mouth. Well, other than that one episode with the double-fudge macadamia-nut ice cream.

  He helped her back to the living room and fluffed up the pillows. “Where’s Nerdman when you need him?” It seemed to Steve that professor friend of hers should be the one checking up on her.

  “We decided not to see each other anymore,” she replied. Steve couldn’t detect any deep regret.

  “Oh.”

  “I couldn’t imagine him naked.”

  Steve did a poor job of hiding a grin. “Do you do that often? Imagine men naked?” He made a show of clutching the neck of his uniform in a false display of modesty.

  “Hardly. Just some men. You don’t qualify.”

  “Glad to hear it.”

  “The only thing I ever saw him get excited about was a program on the public channel about mold.”

  If there was a hidden message in that statement, Steve wasn’t sure he wanted to dig for it. “So you called it quits?”

  “I’m back to square one—again.”

  “There’s a man for you out there, Hallie. Don’t lose heart.”

  “That’s what Donnalee keeps saying. I don’t understand it. I thrive on challenges. I write out my goals and plan to succeed, and so far all I’ve done is fall flat on my face.”

  “Don’t be so hard on yourself.”

  Hallie sighed dramatically. “I never thought I’d be this thin and without a man in my life.”

  Steve didn’t know how to respond to that.

  “Thanks for coming by.”

  “No problem. You sure I can’t get you anything else?”

  “I’m fine now. Thanks for asking.”

  Steve left, and as he crossed the lawn to his own condo he realized he was smiling. He did that a lot when he thought about Hallie. She seemed to find the humor in life; at any rate, he tended to find it when he was with her.

  He showered, changed clothes and checked out the contents of his kitchen cupboards. He found a can of chicken-noodle soup and heated it. Pouring it into two bowls, he left one on the table for himself and brought the other to Hallie.

  She looked surprised to see him again.

  “Here,” he said, setting it down on the coffee table for her and grabbing the soda crackers from the kitchen. “Eat this and you’ll feel better.”

  “You’re so thoughtful,” she told him, her dark eyes wide with gratitude.

  “That’s what friends are for,” he said, and leaning over, kissed the top of her head.

  Twenty-One

  Back In The Saddle Again<
br />
  June 22

  Well, Larry’s out of my life, not that I’m gnashing my teeth or anything. But I do admit to being disappointed. It seems I take one step forward, stumble back and fall into a ravine. Tom Chedders and Mark Freelander disgusted me, but Larry McDonald discouraged me. Is he the best I can do? How depressing.

  On a brighter note. Donnalee accepted a date with a real-estate broker she’s known for a number of years. It’d be a hoot if Donnalee ended up marrying someone she’s known and worked with for years. But even if she doesn’t, I don’t imagine it’ll take her long to find the right man. She’s smart, attractive and, according to Steve, she’s got what it takes. Physically, for sure. And she’s a wonderful, loving, compassionate person. If she wasn’t my best friend, I might even hate her!

  Speaking of Steve, he’s been really great, dropping by when I was sick, cleaning up for me—even moving my car. I sometimes toy with the Idea of the two of us, but I’m afraid he’s still hooked on his ex-wife. He claims otherwise, but I can’t help wondering.

  I talked to the people at Dateline and they’re reviewing their files. The woman I spoke to said they’d have another name for me by the end of the week. I told them to take their time. I’m in no hurry to meet someone new just yet. I want to take a week or two to revive my enthusiasm. Maybe I should do what Donnalee’s doing (and what I started out doing!) and be willing to date someone I haven’t met through the agency. The new man from the office-supply store is cute. I wonder how old he is, or if he’s married.

  I’m feeling ambitious now that I’m over the flu and bought myself some Martha Washington geraniums, lovely deep red ones. I’m going to plant them this afternoon.

  Steve was washing his company truck when Hallie went outside to plant the geraniums. She’d never known a man who took having a clean truck so seriously. He was wielding the long green garden hose, which snaked across the lawn, but he paused when he saw her.

  “You seem a lot better,” he said.

  He looked darn good, Hallie noted, with his shirt unbuttoned all the way down, revealing a strong muscular chest. The bronze sheen of his skin invited investigation—not hers of course, she was quick to add. After living next door to him all these months, she found herself oddly surprised to realize how physically attractive Steve was.

  “I’m feeling much better,” she told him. She adjusted her large straw hat and wished she’d applied sunscreen to her bare arms. Kneeling on the soft moist grass, she cleared a space between the tulips and daffodils that had bloomed earlier in the spring.

  “What are you planting now?” he asked.

  She replied in far more detail than he’d wanted to know, Hallie suspected; she’d even explained about leaving the stalk and leaves of her tulips and daffodils so the bulbs could absorb the nutrients. She’d seen his eyes glaze over, but he’d listened politely. Hallie wasn’t sure why she was being so talkative. It probably had to do with the weather, which was glorious, and the fact that she’d spent the week cooped up inside, sick as a dog. Then, too, it might have to do with his open shirt.

  When she’d finished transplanting the geraniums from the plastic containers to the flower bed, she strung her hose across the yard.

  “I’ve never understood what a woman sees in flowers,” Steve said. “If it was up to me, I’d stick a couple of plastic tulips in the ground and let it go at that.”

  Hallie rolled her eyes. “Well, it’s men and their he-man trucks that get me.”

  “Women and their romance novels.”

  Hallie wasn’t going to stand still for that. “Men and their remote controls.”

  Later Hallie couldn’t remember if she’d intentionally doused Steve. She’d laughed while holding the hose, which had jerked and splashed water on the legs of his jeans.

  When it happened, Steve’s eyes slowly met hers. She opened her mouth to apologize, but then realized she wasn’t sorry. Not at all. He was so smug and self-righteous.

  “Do you have anything to say for yourself?” he asked, advancing toward her, a menacing look on his face.

  Hallie retreated one small step for each giant step he took. The water dribbling out of her hose was no match for the power sprayer he’d been using on the truck.

  “I stand by my convictions,” she announced with melodramatic fervor.

  “Do you, now?” He sprayed the legs of her jeans the same way she’d sprayed his, only the water pressure in his hose was much stronger and she was soaked to her knees.

  “I’d like to remind you that I’ve been ill. I probably shouldn’t be outside at all.” She feigned a cough.

  “You should’ve thought about that before you started this water war.”

  “Water war?” she repeated. “You wouldn’t, would you? Seeing that I’ve been so terribly ill.” She coughed again for effect.

  He turned away as if the guilt factor had worked, giving her ample time to cross to the outdoor faucet and increase the water pressure. If she’d stopped to think about what she was initiating, Hallie might have resisted—but the temptation was too strong. Without giving him any warning, she liberally sprayed his backside.

  Steve’s reaction was quick as lightning. Soon an all-out water fight had erupted, complete with threats and shouts of retribution. In seconds they were both drenched to the skin. Wet tendrils of hair dripped onto Hallie’s neck and shoulders. Her hat had long since disappeared, and her blouse was plastered to her front.

  “You’re a wicked, wicked man,” she declared after being forced to plead for mercy.

  “And you’re not to be trusted,” he returned.

  She laughed, enjoying their exchange. “I just lost control,” she said—which was true enough. His attitude had certainly inflamed her, not to mention his open shirt… well, no man had the right to look that sexy.

  “You better get inside and change clothes before you catch your death of cold,” he said.

  “You, too.” He might not be as wet as she was, but Hallie had done womanhood proud. Water dripped from Steve—just not as much of it.

  “Do you have any plans for later?” he called unexpectedly just as she was about to enter the house.

  “Apart from remaining dry? No, not really.”

  He smiled. “I thought I’d ride my bike along the Green River. Want to join me?”

  Hallie smiled back. The idea was appealing; she’d seen lots of folks on the trail and had always thought it seemed a great way to enjoy a sunny afternoon, biking along the paved road. Exercising, but with scenery. Minus the boredom.

  “I’d love to, but I can’t,” she said regretfully. “I don’t have a bike.” She didn’t mention that it’d been at least ten years since she’d ridden one.

  “You could use Meagan’s. I’m sure she wouldn’t mind.”

  Hallie’s spirits lifted. She knew Steve was at loose ends this weekend. Meagan and Kenny were at their mother’s parents for some family function. He didn’t seem to know what to do with himself without the kids there.

  “This shouldn’t be such a difficult decision, Hallie.”

  “I… don’t know if I remember how to ride a bike,” she admitted, a little embarrassed.

  “Sure you do.” He sounded very definite. “Haven’t you heard the expression ‘It’s like riding a bike’? Once you learn, you never forget. It’s like sex.”

  She tossed him a perturbed look. “Very funny, Marris.”

  “I’ll give you a refresher course. On the bike-riding, I mean.” He grinned. “It’ll take you ten minutes, I promise.”

  She didn’t hesitate. “You’ve got yourself a deal. I’ll change clothes and be right out.”

  She changed in short order and met Steve in front of his garage.

  “I’ll probably need to raise the seat a bit,” he said, looking at her legs and then the bike pedals. “Here, climb on and I’ll see how much I should adjust it.”

  “But…”

  “Don’t worry, I’ll hold on to the bike. You aren’t going to fall.”r />
  Doing as she was instructed, Hallie perched on the seat and placed her feet on the pedals. Since Meagan was considerably shorter than she was, her knees thrust up toward her face. Conscious of making a comical sight, she glanced at Steve to discover that his attention had left her and was riveted on a car down the street.

  Hallie’s gaze followed his to the dark blue vehicle.

  “It’s Mary Lynn,” he said. His voice had a breathless quality that spoke of surprise and delight. His ex-wife pulled to a stop and parked.

  Completely forgetting about Hallie, Steve released the handlebars and started walking toward Mary Lynn. Before Hallie could free her feet from the pedals, the bicycle toppled sideways onto the grass.

  Steve didn’t notice. Hallie lay sprawled on the wet grass, and for all intents and purposes she might have been invisible. Her backside was completely drenched before Steve looked back at her. He might not have even then if Mary Lynn hadn’t said something.

  “Are you all right?” Mary Lynn asked when Hallie awkwardly lifted the bike away from her and stood. They’d met briefly a few times, including the day Meagan had gone to work with Hallie. The conversations had always been a bit awkward. They’d waved to each other a couple of times since, when Mary Lynn was either dropping the kids off or picking them up.

  Hallie brushed the grass from her pants and noticed a trickle of blood on her elbow, where her arm had struck the concrete. She twisted her arm around to evaluate the damage. It wasn’t much, just a little scraped skin, but it fired her anger.

  She stared at Steve who was gazing longingly at Mary Lynn. It was pathetically obvious that he was hoping his ex-wife had come to announce she’d had a change of heart and wanted him back.

  “Can we talk for a moment?” Mary Lynn asked Steve in a voice that couldn’t have been sweeter.

  “Of course.” He nearly fell all over himself leading the way into the house.

  Mary Lynn had the grace to glance guiltily toward Hallie. “If now’s convenient?”

  “Why wouldn’t it be?” Steve asked.