Their orders arrived and they silently stared down at their food before looking up at each other. Then, as if by some invisible cue, they quickly exchanged plates.
With a grateful sigh, Sally dived her fork into the salad and Rick bit down into the thick meat sandwich with obvious relish.
After leaving the deli they stood in the town square beneath the soft falling snow. Neither one of them seemed willing or even able to say good-bye.
“Good luck with your new job,” Rick said at last, his face dark.
“Good luck with yours,” she replied, her mouth dry.
They stood staring at each other for a moment before shaking hands. She cried at the end of Annie Hall. Alvy and Annie said their final good-bye with a shake of the hands just as she and Rick were doing now. Just don’t let me cry now.
“You okay?” he asked.
Aware that her hand was still in his, she nodded.
“Will I see you again before you leave?”
She wanted to say yes, but she knew that would be a big mistake. Better to end things while she still could. “I don’t think so. I’m leaving town the day after Christmas and I want to spend as much time as I can with Nana.”
He nodded. “I guess this really is good-bye, then.”
She forced herself to breathe. Why saying good-bye to him this time was so much harder than when she’d left at eighteen to attend art school, she couldn’t say.
They backed away from each other as if neither wanted to let the other out of sight. When she finally turned and walked in the opposite direction, she felt like Rose on that raft in Titanic floating away from Jack. That’s when the tears came.
* * *
Rick was sitting at his desk watching a movie on his laptop when PB entered the office.
PB slid a plan for thinning the woods onto Rick’s desk and craned his neck for a look at the screen. A character named Mike was mutely expressing his feelings by holding up placards to the woman he loved.
PB frowned and folded his dark, thick arms across his chest. “What are you watching?”
“Love Actually.”
PB scoffed. “You’re sitting in your office watching a chick flick?”
Rick closed his laptop. “Thought I’d get some pointers on how to . . . you know . . . talk to women.”
“Do you have a particular woman in mind or just women in general?” PB shook his head and answered his own question. “Don’t tell me. Only one woman I know can make you desperate enough to watch a chick flick.”
Rick drew in his breath. How could Sally make him feel so good one moment and so utterly miserable the next? “She has a job in Southern California.”
“Did you ask her not to go?”
Rick raised his eyebrows. “I thought you told me to stay away from her.”
“That was before she convinced her tree-hugging friends to work with us. So did you or didn’t you ask her to stay?”
“’Course I did. I told her we needed to sort this thing out between us.”
“Thing? That’s the word you used. Thing?”
“Well . . . yeah. But she knew what I meant.”
“I wouldn’t bet on it.” PB tossed a nod at Rick’s computer. “That movie is called Love Actually. Love, not thing.”
Rick sat back in his chair. “I said nothing about love.”
“Yeah, you did. You just didn’t hear yourself. And if you didn’t hear it, neither did she.”
Chapter 16
Saturday, December 17
Angel opened the door to Rick’s knock.
“Why, Mr. Talbot. It’s nice to see you, again. Come in, come in. Brr, it’s cold outside.”
After wiping his feet on the doormat, Rick stepped into the warm reception area and inhaled the smell of freshly baked cinnamon cookies.
“I hope you’re not here for a room,” Angel said. “I’m completely booked.”
“I came to see Sally.”
“Oh. I’m sorry. She already left.”
He felt his spirits drop. “What do you mean left?”
“She has an afternoon flight back to Los Angeles.”
The news hit him like a falling tree. “She told me she wasn’t leaving until after Christmas.”
Angel’s knowing look seemed to see right through him. “Guess she changed her mind.”
“Hi, Mr. Talbot.”
The child’s voice made Rick look up to the second floor. “Hi, Toby.”
Toby leaned over the balcony. “Do you want to hear me say my part again?”
Angel folded her arms across her chest. “Oh, I think Mr. Talbot has heard your part and knows all about the miracle of Christmas,” she said with a meaningful nod. In a softer voice she added, “So what are you waiting for?”
He blinked. “Waiting for?”
“As your Sally would say, ‘Every couple needs a gate expectations scene.’”
“You mean great expectations.”
“Oh, no!” she assured him. “I mean gate as in airport. Before she left Sally told me about some of her favorite airport scenes. So if you want to get her heart racing, you’d better come up with a Hollywood scene that’ll grab her attention before her plane takes off with her on it.”
Rick’s brow creased. Airports always reminded him of his favorite James Bond movies. “You mean like the runaway gas tanker scene in Casino Royale?”
Angel laughed and shook her head. “Actually, I was thinking more along the lines of Casablanca, though that one was a bit depressing.” She glanced at the grandfather clock in the corner. “Whether you plan to kiss her senseless or hang from a wing to keep her from leaving, you’d better get a move on or you’ll need the help of the entire heavenly host.”
* * *
Sally paid the taxi driver and wheeled her luggage into the terminal. Had she known she’d have to fly home, she would have traveled lighter so as not to pay for two suitcases.
The Heywood Regional Airport was small and she probably didn’t need to get there as early as she had. It was crowded with travelers all anxious to get home for Christmas. Some flights had been canceled due to bad weather. Fortunately, she wasn’t flying east and her flight hadn’t been affected.
After checking her suitcases at the ticket counter, she followed the signs to security. At the bottom of the stairs leading to the second floor, she watched a man and woman embrace. The couple reminded Sally of how it felt to be in Rick’s arms, and with a moan of distress she turned away.
In an effort to stop thinking of Rick, she stopped at the newsstand and flipped through a copy of People magazine. An advertisement for a slasher movie caught her eye. It was made by the same studio that hired her. The ad was dismal black except for the red blood dripping off a raised knife. She tried to think how the ad could have been made more perfect or at least more appealing, but all that came to mind was a field of daisies.
Shaking away the disturbing vision of the dripping knife, she stuffed the magazine back on the rack. Turning abruptly, she bumped into someone.
“Oh, I’m sorry I—” She blinked and her mouth dropped. “Rick? What . . . what are you doing here?”
For answer, he took her by the arm and led her through the crowded airport and out the glass doors. Only when he found a spot in the parking lot away from the busy terminal did he release her.
“What are you doing here?” she asked again.
He rubbed the back of his neck and flashed a sheepish grin “Angel said something that reminded me of a movie you and I saw years ago. You got all choked up when the fella sang on the plane.”
Sally frowned. “Are you talking about The Wedding Singer? When Adam Sandler sang to Drew Barrymore?”
“Yeah, that’s the one. Only we both know I can’t sing. I’m not sure airline security would let me sing even if I wanted to.”
“Rick, you aren’t making any sense.”
“I know.” He rubbed his chin and took a deep breath. “I grew up in a family that wasn’t very good at expressing themsel
ves emotionally, so don’t expect any heroic speeches.” He pulled a stack of index cards from his coat pocket and cleared his throat. He held up the first card.
Frowning, she read it aloud. “One hundred ruled index cards?”
Rick glanced at the card. “Oops, sorry.” He moved the top card to the back of the pack. The next card read, STAY AND I’LL PLANT YOU A KALE GARDEN. She stared at the card in bewilderment. When she didn’t respond, he explained, “What’s-his-name in Love Actually used placards to tell a woman how he felt.”
She was surprised Rick even knew about that movie. “Are you talking about Mike? The only man in the movie who didn’t get the girl?”
Rick grimaced. “I guess I missed that part.” He tossed the remaining stack of cards into a trash barrel, unread. “Okay, this is me talking and I meant what the card said. About the kale garden, I mean.”
She stared at him in confusion. “I . . . I don’t know what to say, Rick.” She wasn’t even sure what he was trying to say. A kale garden? With her brown thumb she couldn’t even keep a cactus alive.
He shoved his hands in his pockets. “I know that asking you to stay is like jumping out of a plane without a parachute. It’s also nothing short of selfish on my part. You with a new job and all. No hero in a movie would be so selfish. But there you have it.”
“I don’t think you’re selfish. It’s just . . . There doesn’t seem to be any point in prolonging the inevitable.”
A probing query filled his eyes and he hushed her with a finger to his lips. “Do you hear what I hear?”
Not sure how to answer him, she gazed at the distant runway. “I hear a plane taking off,” she said. The roar of the jet engine momentarily drowned out all other sounds; the very asphalt vibrated beneath her feet.
Rick waited for the jet to rise above their heads. “What I hear whenever we are together is two hearts beating as one. If you don’t hear that . . .” His voice broke.
Sally’s breath caught in her lungs. Never had she heard him speak with such urgency. Or look at her with such intent. This wasn’t Rick ordering a double-bacon Big Mac. This was Rick opening his heart.
Oh, God. If only she weren’t so afraid to follow her own heart. The first time they’d broken up almost killed her. To open herself up the possibility of being hurt again was more than she could bear. She blinked back tears. Of all the men she could have fallen for, why did it have to be the one man with whom she had so little in common?
When she failed to respond, he continued, his voice thick with meaning. “If you don’t hear what I hear, then I guess you’re right. This thing isn’t going to work. If it’s perfection you want, then I’m most definitely the wrong man for you.”
Torn by conflicting emotions, she drew in a breath and prayed for strength. “I’m sorry, Rick.” It wasn’t what he wanted to hear. That much was clear by the tight look on his face.
A muscle quivered at his jaw. “So am I.” He turned and stalked away.
Had he reached in and squeezed her heart in a vise, it couldn’t have hurt more. “Wait, Rick,” she called after him, but he kept going.
After her father’s desertion, she’d prayed she’d never have to watch another man walk out on her. It suddenly occurred to her that maybe that’s why she’d walked out on Rick at age eighteen, and had walked away from every relationship since. If that was true, it wasn’t something she was proud of. Walking away was a lousy way to protect your heart. In any case it didn’t work.
Maybe they just never took the time to figure out why that great matchmaker in the sky brought them together in the first place.
Just as she shook the thought away, something caught her eye. One of Rick’s index cards had missed the trash can and was now on the ground, faceup. She stooped to retrieve it and suddenly she couldn’t breathe. This card simply read I LOVE YOU, and they were the most beautiful, perfect words ever written. Now no amount of willpower could keep her from doing what she’d wanted to do along.
Suddenly she was walking . . . sprinting . . . running. Her feet hit the pavement as her heart hit her ribs. She raced through the airport parking lot like a desperate lovesick character in a movie, but didn’t care.
“Rick, wait!” she shouted, waving her hands frantically over her head.
Just as he turned, she stopped and held up the index card. “I love you, too,” she said. “I guess you could say I never stopped loving you. Maybe it will work this time and maybe it won’t. All I know is that I’m willing to try again if you are.”
His probing eyes met hers. “It’ll work, Sally. I know it will. I’ll even give you space at the mill for that design studio you always wanted, and—”
“Shut up, Rick,” she said, with a silent nod at Jerry Maguire. They’d wasted too much time in the past and she wasn’t about to waste another moment. “You had me at one hundred ruled index cards.”
With a loud whoop, he swung her in the circle of his arms before setting her down with a questioning look. “What about your job in LA?”
“What about that space you promised at the mill?”
“It’s all yours,” he said.
Joy unlike any she’d ever known bubbled up inside. Gazing up at him, she realized, all at once, why her life always seemed like such a mess. “I keep trying to design the perfect room, the perfect magazine cover. The perfect everything. Now I know that without you in the picture, perfection is not possible and never will be.” With every word she uttered, his grin grew wider. “Besides,” she said at last. “I finally realized I hate horror movies and haven’t the slightest idea how to design a scene around the living dead.”
His eyes filled with such tenderness, it took her breath away. “I think you’re perfect,” he said, wrapping a strand of her hair around his finger. “And I hate horror movies, too.”
“Really?”
“Yes, but I’ll tell you what I do like. I like that you can’t walk into a room without envisioning it on the cover of a magazine.” He cupped her face gently between his hands. “I also like the way you always have to rearrange the silverware.”
Her lips quirked in a self-conscious smile. “I like that you value old things and can’t carry a tune.”
“Oh, yeah? Well, I like that your fridge is ninety percent produce and you know a hundred ways to serve kale.”
“I like that you rescue cats . . .”
A flash of humor touched his eyes. “I like that the only thing you can grow are chia seeds. And you don’t even need a terra-cotta pet.”
She giggled. “I like that you can name every tree in the forest but can’t name more than three vegetables.”
On and on they went, listing the endless little things they liked and loved about each other. It was a scene straight out of When Harry Met Sally, only better.
Taking both her hands in his, he pressed his forehead against hers. “We have some problems to work out. What if you tire of the car chases I love to watch? Or gag at me stuffing my face with french fries?”
“I’ll just have to walk around with a barf bag,” she said.
“Is that supposed to be romantic?” he asked. It was the same line she had often used on him when they were going together, and she laughed.
“No, but this is,” she said, working her arms around his neck. The heated look in his eyes as he gazed down at her filled her with unspeakable joy. This time the voice in her head was from no movie. Instead it was from a very wise woman appropriately named Angel.
“There has to be a reason a certain heavenly matchmaker brought us together again, and I intend to find out what that reason is,” she said.
“Maybe He’s trying to teach us tolerance,” he said.
“Or maybe He’s trying to teach us the full meaning of love.”
His dimple deepened. “I like your version better.”
Working her fingers through his hair, she threw her head back to gaze at the cloudy sky. “It would be a very good time for it to rain about now,” she said.
�
��Are you sure you wouldn’t rather see a runaway tanker,” he asked, his voice filled with warm humor.
She laughed. “A runaway tanker in the rain. Now, that’s what I call a perfect picture!”
Though nature refused to cooperate, she rose on tiptoes to give him the most passionate of kisses. The Princess Bride had nothing on her. Nor, for that matter, did James Bond.
About the Author
Bestselling Author MARGARET BROWNLEY has penned more than forty stories including her Match Made in Texas series. Her books have won numerous awards, and she’s a former Romance Writers of America RITA finalist. She’s also written for a TV soap. Not bad for someone who flunked eighth-grade English. Just don’t ask her to diagram a sentence. Margaret loves to hear from readers. Contact her through her website: margaret-brownley.com.
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Table of Contents
Title Page
Copyright Notice
Dedication
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
About the Author
’Tis the season for second chances!
Copyright Page
Do You Hear What I Hear? Page 8
