by Marie Force
“Malcolm John McCarthy, known as Mac, wants to know. Do you?”
“Not at the moment.”
“Are you waiting for someone to come home from Vietnam?”
“Only my brother.”
Mac had never known relief so profound or so pervasive. “How’s it possible a girl like you doesn’t have twenty boyfriends vying for her attention?”
She smiled up at him, and he lost what was left of his heart. “You’re a charmer, Malcolm John McCarthy, known as Mac.”
“Never been before. Must be you.”
“Must be.”
Walking backward in front of her, he said, “What’s your last name?”
“Rudolph.”
“Tell me the truth, Linda Rudolph—have you ever harbored a secret burning desire to live on an island?”
“An island? Can’t say I’ve ever entertained that particular burning desire.”
The implication that she’d entertained others had his full attention, and he had to remind himself they were in public, and he wasn’t allowed to let his mind go there—at least not yet.
“Why do you ask?”
“Well, so, it’s kind of like this… Tomorrow, I’m signing papers that will make me the proud owner of a ramshackle marina on Gansett Island that I plan to turn into a gold mine. I was wondering if you might like to help me do that.”
“Didn’t I just meet you an hour ago?”
“Uh-huh.”
“And you’re asking me to come live with you on your island and help you turn your ramshackle marina into a gold mine. Is that right?”
“That’s about it, yep.”
“Are you always this forward when you meet someone new?”
“Nope. I’ve never asked a girl to come live with me anywhere, let alone on my island.”
“I’m flattered to be the first, but you’ll understand my reluctance, being as I’m in school and all that.”
“What year?”
“Going into my junior year.”
“I won’t be able to wait two years to marry you. There’s just no way that’ll work for me.”
“Mac! Are you out of your mind? Do you have some sort of condition that makes you delusional?”
“Do you believe in love at first sight?”
“No! That only happens in the movies.”
“And on front porches in Providence.”
“You… I…” She pursed her lips, seeming to choose her words carefully. “Are you being serious right now?”
“Dead serious. You ever feel something right here?” He pushed his fist into his gut. “And you know? You just know?”
“That hasn’t happened to me before.”
“It’s happened to me only one other time.”
“Were you in love with her?”
He smiled at the catty tone to her voice. “As much as you can be in love with a dilapidated group of buildings, a sagging dock and a parking lot full of potholes. I took one look at that mess and felt like I’d come home. And I took one look at you, the most beautiful girl I’ve ever laid eyes on, and felt like I’d found the other half of me.”
Her hand came up to her chest, as if she were trying to remember how to breathe. Maybe he had that thought because he was feeling sort of breathless himself.
“How old are you, Mac?”
“Just turned twenty.”
“And you expect me to believe you can take one look at me—at age twenty—and think you’re going to want me forever?”
“Yes, I expect you to believe that. How old are you?”
“Nineteen.”
“Where’d you grow up?”
“In Massachusetts, outside of Boston.”
“Ahh, a city girl.”
“You’re from here, right? Doesn’t that make you a city boy?”
“Providence is small potatoes next to Boston.” It occurred to him that a girl from Boston might find Gansett Island incredibly boring. “You’re on summer vacation, right?”
“I am.”
“Are you working?”
“I was supposed to be a nanny for a young family, but the dad’s job transferred him unexpectedly, so I’m still looking for something. I’m staying with Josie and Kathy for the summer.”
“Come to Gansett with me for the day tomorrow. Take a look at what I’m doing there. I want to know what you think of it.” At this point, he was running on pure adrenaline fueled by the gut feeling that she was intended for him. How he knew that, he couldn’t say. He just knew.
“You’re a very intense young man, Mac.”
“I’ve been told that before, but I don’t see any point in doing things halfway,” he said, borrowing Frank’s words from earlier. “Tomorrow, I’m gambling my future on a marina that may or may not pay off. I want you with me when I go there for the first time as the rightful owner. Will you come?”
Her lips moved to the side as she thought about his offer. After a long moment in which Mac died a thousand deaths waiting for her to reply, she said, “I won’t stay there overnight.”
“I’ll bring you back on the last boat tomorrow night. You have my word.”
“Okay. I’ll go, then.”
Mac blew out a deep breath. Two round trips to the island weren’t in the budget, but he’d find the money if it meant he got to show her his dream. “Thank you. Will you do one other thing for me?”
“Depends on what it is.”
“Don’t go out with anyone else.”
“You mean between now and tomorrow when I’m going to Gansett Island with you?”
“I mean ever. Don’t go out with anyone but me ever again.”
She started to laugh, but it died on her lips when she seemed to get that he meant it.
Because he couldn’t wait another second to touch her, he raised his hand to her face and laid it flat against her cheek. Then he ran his thumb over her full bottom lip, loving the sound of her breath catching in her throat. “You’re so incredibly beautiful, Linda.”
“You’re a rather handsome devil yourself, but of course you know that.”
“As long as you think so, that’s all that matters.”’
“Are you always so insistent when it comes to women?”
“I’m never insistent, because I’ve never cared enough to be. You’re different.”
“How do you know that?” she asked in a small voice that had his heart doing that leaping thing again.
“Do you believe in fate? In things that are meant to be?”
“I never have before.”
He leaned in to replace his thumb with his lips, a soft fleeting caress that only confirmed what he already knew—she was his. “It might be time to start believing.”
With the hindsight of four decades, Big Mac had to acknowledge that he was damned lucky she hadn’t run from him, screaming for the police.
His low chuckle had her stirring next to him.
“What’re you laughing about first thing in the morning?” she asked in the husky, sleepy morning voice he adored.
“I’m thinking about the day we met and how lucky I was that you didn’t call the police on me with the way I came on so strong with you.”
“You are lucky. The thought crossed my mind. You were awfully forward.”
“It was the seventies, babe. Forward was in vogue.”
“You took it to a whole other level.”
Big Mac turned over, put his arm around her and drew her in snug against him, loving how she fit so perfectly in his arms. “Happy anniversary, my love. I’m so glad you didn’t call the cops.”
“Me, too, and happy anniversary to you as well.”
“Forty years,” he said with a sigh. “How’s that possible?”
“Went by in the blink of an eye.”
“You ever wish you’d called the cops on me that day at Frankie’s?”
“Not for one second, as you well know.”
“Ever wish you’d finished college?”
“Nope. I would’ve been so
distracted thinking about you that I would’ve flunked out anyway.”
“Sometimes I feel bad about talking you into dropping out to come live with me on my island. I thought your folks would never forgive me for that.”
“They loved you as much as I did.”
“Not at first. They thought you were shackling yourself to a lunatic.”
“They never used that word,” she said, making him laugh. “They admired your ambition.”
“But they wished I’d been ambitious on the mainland rather than out here.”
“They understood why we wanted to be here. They loved coming out in the summers to spend a few weeks every year.”
“I miss that.”
“Me too.”
“And now here we are, the grandparents all of a sudden,” he said.
“It wasn’t all of a sudden, but it did happen fast when they started dropping like flies, one after the other. And Laura and Shane, too.”
“They all found their ideal mates. I couldn’t be any happier with how it worked out for them.”
“Not to mention, they all came home.”
“Thank goodness for that.” Big Mac reached for the small wrapped package he’d stashed under his pillow before bed and plopped it down in front of her.
“What’s that?”
“The first of your anniversary gifts.”
“Mac! We said we weren’t doing gifts!”
“We say that every year, and every year we do gifts. And besides, this year is extra special.”
“Every year is extra special.”
“Open your present.”
Looking over her shoulder, he noted the slight tremble in her hands as she pulled the ribbon and paper off the blue velvet box.
“Mac,” she said with a gasp, recognizing the distinctive Tiffany blue. “What’ve you done?”
“Open it.” He’d been anticipating this moment for months as he went back and forth with the folks at Tiffany to get it just right. And judging by her gasp of shock, he’d gotten it just right.
“Mac… Oh my God, are you kidding me?” Holding the velvet box, she sat up in bed, her hand over her mouth as tears filled her gorgeous eyes.
He sat up, too, took the box from her, retrieved the ring and slid it onto her finger.
Her hand trembled as she held it out in front of her for a better look. “It’s too much! My God!”
“It’s four carats, one for every decade we’ve spent together, and it’s the least of what you deserve for putting up with me that long.”
“Putting up with you? Is that what you think I’ve done?”
“Sometimes,” he said with a smile.
“Mac…all these years later, you still think you lured me away from some grandiose life for something lesser here, and that’s not the case at all. I’ve been exactly where I wanted to be every day that I lived here with you.”
“You could’ve had anyone.”
“You could’ve had anyone.”
“I chose you. My heart chose you. I’ll never forget the first time I laid eyes on you and knew it was you. I just knew.”
She took his hand and brought it to rest over her heart. “My heart chose you, too. It still does. Every day.”
Smiling, he used their joined hands to tug her closer to him. “We’ve got a lot of celebrating to do today. What do you say we get this party started?”
“What do you have in mind?”
“What do I always have in mind when you’re in bed with me?”
She laughed and reached for him. “At least you’re predictable.”
Overwhelmed by love for her, he pressed his lips against her neck. “Thanks for spending forty years with me, Lin. You’ve made my whole life just by being here.”
“Same goes, my love.”
Chapter 3
Mac McCarthy Junior woke on that cold winter day to the distinctive sound of retching coming from the master bathroom. He was up and out of bed before his brain had time to catch up with his body. Maddie was sick again, and he couldn’t bear to listen to her suffer.
Though she’d told him before she didn’t want him anywhere near her when she was puking, he defied her orders and went in to hold her hair back while she dry heaved, flushing the toilet for her when she was done.
“Mac,” she said between waves of nausea, “go away.”
“Not happening. It’s my fault you’re sick, so you have to let me help you.”
“It’s not your fault, and I don’t want you seeing me like this.”
“Aren’t we past that by now? Don’t ask me to pretend I can’t hear you throwing up.”
She moaned and rested her face on the arm she had propped on the toilet.
Mac released her hair and went to wet a washcloth with cool water. Her eyes remained closed while he got her to lift her head so he could wipe her face and mouth. Then he encouraged her to lean on him rather than the toilet.
“It’s so gross. Who wants to see his wife like this?”
“I do. I want to see my wife every minute of every day, and I don’t care what she looks like.”
“Or what she smells like?”
He nuzzled her neck. “She always smells delicious.”
That drew a grunt of laughter from her. “Sure she does.”
“Is it over for now?”
“I think so.”
“Let’s get you back to bed for a while.” He helped her up and kept his hands on her hips while she brushed her teeth and rinsed her mouth. Then he lifted her into his arms and carried her back to bed. That she rested her head on his shoulder rather than protesting him carrying her indicated how lousy she felt.
He laid her gently on the bed, pulled the comforter up and over her and then got back into bed with her.
She shivered violently. “Freezing.”
“Let me warm you up.”
Maddie curled up to him, and Mac wrapped his arms around her, tucking her in as close to him as he could get her. “I’m sorry you’re suffering so much this time around.”
“It’s fine. Whatever I have to do.”
Mac rubbed small circles on her back. “How’re the boobs feeling?”
“Awful. They’re so sore.”
He kissed her forehead. “My poor baby.”
“I refuse to think of myself as anything other than a lucky mommy who’s getting another chance.”
“Still, it sucks that you feel so crappy.”
“This too shall pass, and at the end of it, we’ll have a healthy, beautiful baby. I hope.”
He hated that she felt the need to add those two little words at the end. “Victoria said there’s no reason to believe we have anything to worry about this time.”
“We didn’t think we had anything to worry about last time, and I went around telling everyone how I didn’t really want to be pregnant, how it was all a big comic accident.”
“It was a comic accident, and no one thought you wanted to lose him, Maddie. Not for one second did anyone think that.”
“I like to think I’ve learned my lesson just the same.”
They were quiet for a long time, with only the pinging of icy snow against the windows marking the silence.
“Do you think you’ll feel up to going tonight?”
“Even if I don’t, I’m going. Wouldn’t miss it. Besides, we don’t need everyone speculating as to why I’m sick all the time.”
In light of what’d happened the last time, they’d agreed to keep the news to themselves for a few months. However, with Maddie so sick, the people closest to them were beginning to wonder what was up. “Let them speculate. We’ll tell them when we’re ready to.”
“The day he’s born?” she asked with a laugh.
It was good to hear her laugh, even if she was being sarcastic. “Maybe a little before then.”
“What’ll we name him?”
She’d been reluctant to talk too much about the baby that was due next summer, so he took it as a good sign when she asked about a nam
e.
“I’m thinking Malcolm John the Third has a nice ring to it.”
“We can’t call him Mac. We’ve got too many Macs as it is.”
“A family can never have too many Macs,” he said.
She rolled her eyes. “That’s what you think.”
“We’ll call him Malcolm. Why not? It’s a good name. His friends will call him Mal. I like that.”
“I like it, too. What if he is a she?”
“Since there’s no way in hell she’s going to be born during a tropical storm the way Hailey was, we’ll have to come up with something for a girl that isn’t the name of a storm.”
“We’ve got plenty of time.”
“Go back to sleep for a while, hon. I’ll get up with the kids.”
“You’re the best husband I’ve ever had,” she murmured.
“I’d better be the only husband you ever have, Mrs. McCarthy.”
“Mmm, no one else but you.”
That was all he needed to hear. Someday they’d be celebrating their fortieth anniversary. He had absolutely no doubt about that.
In Providence, Adam McCarthy woke to the sound of sobs coming from the bathroom in the hotel room he’d shared with his fiancée, Abby Callahan. Hearing her heartbroken sounds reminded him of the disastrous day they’d endured yesterday when Abby had been diagnosed with something neither of them had ever heard of—polycystic ovary syndrome.
At least they now knew why, despite a year of nearly constant effort, they had yet to conceive the child they both wanted so badly. And now it was quite possible they never would, thanks to a silent but virulent disorder that would require lifelong management.
Abby had been despondent since hearing the devastating news, and Adam was still trying to process what it meant. After she cried herself to sleep the night before, he’d spent hours on the Internet and had come away terrified for both of them. Conceiving a baby was now the least of their concerns, with the possibility of diabetes, cancer, heart disease and other life-threatening illnesses looming over her.
He got up to knock on the bathroom door. “Abs? Let me in, honey.”
“No.”
“Abby…please. I need you.” After more than a year together, he knew what to say to get her attention, and she was a sucker for him when he needed her. Today was no different. The lock on the door popped open, and he had to suppress a gasp when he saw the ravages of grief and despair etched into her gorgeous face. He put his arms around her. “Come here, honey.”
