The Man You'll Marry

by Debbie Macomber

  “What did you think?”

  “That married people should occasionally be willing to change their plans,” she managed to say.

  Jordan chuckled, and lifting her gently into his arms, carried her to the bed. “I’m beginning to think married life is going to agree with me.” His mouth found hers and gentleness gave way to urgency.

  Five days later, when Jordan and Jill returned to the mainland, their honeymoon over, Jill was so deeply in love with her husband she wondered why she’d ever hesitated, why she’d fought so hard against marrying him.

  The first person she called when they arrived at the penthouse was Shelly. Jordan had arranged to have her things moved there while they were away. Ralph lived at her previous apartment now and was elated with the extra space.

  “Have you got time to meet an old friend for lunch?” Jill asked without preamble.

  “Jill!” Shelly cried. “When did you get back?”

  “About an hour ago.” Although he hadn’t said as much, she knew Jordan was dying to get to his office. “I thought I’d steal away for a few minutes and meet you.”

  “I’d love to see you. Just name the time and place.”

  Jill did, then kissed Jordan on the cheek while he was talking to his assistant on the phone in his study. He broke away, covered the mouthpiece with his hand and gave her a surprised look. “Where are you headed?”

  “Out for lunch. You don’t mind, do you?”

  “No.” But he didn’t sound all that sure.

  “I thought you’d want to go to the office,” she said.

  “I do.” He wrapped his arm around her waist, bringing her close to his side.

  “I know, so I thought I’d meet Shelly.”

  He grinned, kissed her lightly and resumed his telephone conversation as though she’d already left. Jill lingered at the door, waiting for the elevator. Part of her longed to stay with him, to hold on to the happiness before it escaped, before it was dispersed by everyday tensions and demands.

  “Well,” Shelly said a half hour later as she slid into the restaurant booth across from Jill, “how are the newly weds?”

  “Wonderful.”

  “I thought you’d be more tanned.”

  Jill blushed; Shelly laughed and reached for her napkin. “It was the same with Mark and me. I swear, we didn’t leave that hotel room for three days.”

  “We made several short trips,” Jill said, but she didn’t elaborate on exactly how short their sightseeing ventures had been.

  “Married life certainly seems to agree with you.”

  “It’s only been a week,” Jill reminded her friend. “That’s hardly time enough to tell.”

  “I knew after the first week,” Shelly said confidently, her face animated by a smile. “I figured if Mark and I survived the honeymoon, our marriage had a chance. Mark wanted to honeymoon at Niagara Falls, remember?”

  “And you suggested a rafting trip through the Grand Canyon.” Jill smiled at the memory. Mark preferred tradition, while Shelly craved adventure, but in the end, they’d learned what she and Jordan had already discovered. All that mattered was their marriage, their love for each other.

  “We couldn’t agree,” Shelly continued. “I was seriously worried about it. If we were at odds over a honeymoon site, then what on earth would happen when it came to dealing with the really important issues?”

  Jill understood what Shelly meant. She loved Jordan; of that there could be no doubt. Now she had to place her trust in their love, hope it was strong enough to withstand day-to-day reality. She was still fearful, but ready to fight for her marriage, to keep it safe.

  Suddenly Shelly set aside the menu, pressed her hand against her stomach and slowly exhaled.

  “Shell, what’s wrong?”

  Shelly briefly closed her eyes. “Nothing bad. I just can’t stand to read about food.”

  “About food?” That made no sense to Jill.

  “I’m two months pregnant.”

  “Shelly!” Jill was so excited she nearly toppled her water glass. “Why didn’t you say something sooner? Good grief, I’m your best friend—I’d think you’d want me to know.”

  “I do, but I couldn’t tell you until I knew for sure, could I?”

  “You just found out?”

  “Not exactly.” Shelly reached for a small packet of soda crackers, tore away the cellophane wrapper and munched on one. “I found out before your wedding, but I didn’t want to say anything then.”

  Jill appreciated Shelly’s considerateness, her wish not to compete with Jill’s important day.

  “Actually, it was Mark who told me. Imagine a husband explaining the facts of life to his wife. I’m such a scatterbrain, I made a mistake. I miscalculated and didn’t even know it.”

  As far as Jill was concerned, this baby certainly wasn’t a mistake, and from Shelly’s happy glow, her friend felt the same way.

  “I was afraid Mark might be upset. Naturally we’d talked about starting a family, but neither of us planned to have it happen so soon.”

  “He wasn’t upset, though, was he?” Jill would’ve been shocked if Mark had been anything but thrilled.

  “Not in the least. When he first told me what he suspected, I just laughed.” She shook her head in mock consternation. “You’d think I’d know better than to question a man who sleeps with his daily planner by his side!”

  “I’m thrilled for you.”

  “Now that I’ve adjusted to it, I can’t wait. I’m looking forward to decorating the nursery and wearing maternity clothes and everything.”

  After the waitress had taken their order, Jill leaned back against the banquette cushion. “It happened just like you said it would,” she said.

  “What did?”

  “Loving Jordan.” Jill felt a little shy talking so openly about something so intimate. Although she and Jordan were married and deeply in love with each other, they never spoke of their feelings. Jordan was still uncomfortable with expressing emotion. But he didn’t need to tell Jill he loved her, not when he went about proving it every way he knew how. She’d never pressured him, never demanded the words.

  “The day we were married you told me love makes the difficult things seem effortless. Remember?”

  Ever confident, Shelly grinned. “You’re going to be so happy…” She paused, swallowed and reached for her napkin, dabbing her eyes. “I get so emotional these days, I can’t believe it. The other night I found myself crying at a stupid television commercial.”

  “You? Seattle’s drama queen? Impossible,” Jill teased.

  Shelly shook her head ruefully. “Yes, me.” She began to laugh, and Jill joined in.

  Laughter came easily since her marriage; it was all the happiness in her heart brimming over, spilling out. She’d never felt so carefree or laughed at so many silly things before.

  When Jill returned from lunch two hours later, Jordan was gone. Exhausted from the flight and the excitement of the past week, she crawled into bed and slept, not waking until it was dark.

  Rolling onto her back, she stretched luxuriously under the weight of the blanket and smiled, musing how thoughtful it was of Jordan to let her sleep.

  She kicked aside the blanket and searched blindly for her shoes. Yawning, she walked into the living room, surprised to find it dark.

  “Jordan?” she called.

  She was greeted by silence.

  Turning on the lights, Jill was shocked to discover it was after nine. Jordan must still be at the office, she supposed, her stomach knotting. Could it be happening so soon? Could he have grown tired of her already?

  No sooner had the thought formed than the elevator doors opened and Jordan appeared. She didn’t fly into his arms, although that was her first instinct.

  “Hello,” she greeted him, a bit coolly.

  He was loosening his tie. “What time is it?”

  “Nine-fifteen. Are you hungry?”

  He paused, as though he needed to think about it. “Yea
h, I guess I am. Sorry I didn’t call. I didn’t have a clue it was this late.”

  “That’s okay,” she muttered, although it really wasn’t.

  He followed her into the kitchen and slid his arms around her waist while she investigated the contents of the refrigerator.

  “It won’t be like this every night,” he said, his words sounding very much like a promise her father had once made to her mother.

  “I know,” Jill said, desperately hoping that was true.

  She couldn’t sleep that night. Perhaps it was the long nap she’d taken in the middle of the afternoon; at least that was what she tried to tell herself. More likely, though, it was the gnawing fear that Jordan’s love for her was already faltering. She tried to push the doubts aside, tried to convince herself she was overreacting. He’d been away from his office for a week. There must have been all kinds of important issues that required his attention. Was she expecting too much?

  In the morning, she promised herself, she’d talk to him about it. But when she awoke, Jordan had left for the office.

  Frowning, she dressed and wandered into the kitchen for a cup of coffee.

  “Morning.” Jordan’s cook, Mrs. Murphy, a middle-aged woman with lively blue eyes and a wide smile, greeted her. Jill smiled back, although her cheerfulness felt a little strained.

  “Hello, Mrs. Murphy, it’s nice to see you again,” she said, helping herself to coffee. “Uh, what time did Jordan leave this morning?”

  “Early,” the cook said with a disappointed sigh. “I was thinking Mr. Wilcox would stop working so hard once he was married. He hasn’t even been home from his honeymoon twenty-four hours and he’s already at the office at the crack of dawn.”

  Jill hated to disillusion the woman, but this wasn’t Jordan’s first trip to the office. “I’ll see what I can do about giving him some incentive to stay home,” Jill said, savoring her coffee.

  Mrs. Murphy chuckled. “I’m glad to hear it. That man works too many hours. I’ve been telling my George that Mr. Wilcox needs a wife to keep him home at night.”

  “I’ll do my best,” Jill said, but she had the distinct feeling her efforts would make little difference. Checking her watch, she quickly drank the rest of her coffee and hurried into the bedroom to shower.

  Within half an hour she was dressed and ready for work.

  “Mrs. Murphy,” she told the cook, “I’ll be at work—PayRite Pharmacy—if Jordan happens to call. Tell him I’ll be home shortly after five.” Jill wished she’d had the chance to talk to him herself; she knew he was going to be tied up in meetings and conference calls, so she was reluctant to interrupt. Still, she was more than a little distressed that within a week of their wedding she was communicating with her husband through a third party.

  Despite everything, Jill enjoyed her day, which was busier than usual. The pharmacy staff took her out for a celebration lunch, and dozens of customers came by to wish her well. Many of the people whose prescriptions she filled regularly had become friends. In light of how her married life was working out, Jill was thankful she’d decided to keep her job.

  By five she was eager to get home, eager to share her day with Jordan and hear about his. She was met by the aroma of cheese, tomato sauce and garlic, and followed it into the kitchen, where she found Mrs. Murphy untying her apron.

  “Whatever you’re cooking smells absolutely delicious.”

  “It’s my lasagna. Mr. Wilcox’s favorite.”

  Jill opened the oven door and peeked inside. She was famished. “Did Jordan phone?” she asked, her voice rising on a note of longing.

  “About fifteen minutes ago. I told him you’d be home a bit after five.”

  No sooner were the words out than the phone rang. Jill saw Jordan’s office number on call display and answered immediately.

  “This is Brian Macauley, Mr. Wilcox’s assistant,” a crisp male voice informed her. “He’s asked that I let you know he won’t be home for dinner.”

  Nine

  “Jill.”

  Her name seemed to come from a long way off. Someone was calling her, but she could barely hear.

  “Sweetheart.” The voice was louder now.

  She snuggled into the warmth, ignoring the persistent sound. After hours and hours of forcing herself to stay awake, she’d finally given up and succumbed to the sweet seduction of sleep.

  “Honey, if you don’t wake up, you’ll get a crick in your neck.”

  “Jordan?” Her eyes instantly flew open, and she saw her husband kneeling on the carpet beside her chair. She straightened, throwing her arms around his neck. “Oh, Jordan,” she whispered, “I’m so glad you’re home.”

  “With this kind of reception, I’ll have to stay away more often.”

  Jill decided to ignore that comment. “What time is it?”

  “Late” was all he said.

  She kissed him, needing him, savoring the feel of his arms around her. He looked dreadful. He hadn’t been home for dinner in well over a week and spent all hours of the day and night at his office.

  Although she’d asked him several times, Jordan’s only explanation was that a project he’d been working on had developed problems. A project. For this he was willing to send both their lives into tumult; for this he was willing to place their marriage at risk. The upheaval had all but ruined the memory of their brief idyllic honeymoon. They’d been back in Seattle for two weeks now, and Jill hadn’t been allotted a single uninterrupted hour of Jordan’s time.

  “Are you hungry?” She doubted he’d eaten a decent meal in days.

  He shook his head, then rubbed his face wearily. “I’m more tired than anything.”

  “How much longer is this going to continue?” she asked, keeping her voice as steady as she could. She’d gone into this marriage with her eyes wide open. From the moment she’d met Jordan, she’d known how stiff the competition would be, how demanding his way of life was. She’d always known it would be difficult to keep their marriage intact. But she’d figured their love would hold the edge for at least the first couple of years.

  Unfortunately she’d figured wrong. If anything, she’d underestimated the strength of his obsession with business and success. Jordan loved her; he might rarely have told her that, but Jill didn’t need the words. What she did need was some of his time, his attention.

  “I’ve hardly seen you all week,” she reminded him. “You’re gone before I wake up in the mornings. Heaven only knows what time you get home at night.”

  “It won’t be much longer,” Jordan said stiffly, standing. “I promise.”

  “Would it be so terrible if this project folded?”

  “Yes,” he returned emphatically.

  “One failure isn’t the end of the world, you know.”

  Jordan smiled wryly, and his condescension angered her.

  “It’s true,” she said. “Did I ever tell you about trying out for the lead in the high-school play during my senior year?”

  Jordan frowned. “No, but is this another story like the one about your piano-playing?”

  Jill tucked her legs under her and rested one elbow on the chair arm. “A little.”

  Jordan sank down on the leather sofa across from her, leaned his head back and closed his eyes. “In that case, why don’t you move directly to the point and skip the story?”

  He wasn’t being rude, Jill told herself, only practical. He was exhausted and in desperate need of rest. He didn’t have the energy to wade through her mournful tale in search of a moral.

  “All right,” she agreed amicably enough. “You’ve probably already guessed I didn’t get the lead. But I’d been so sure I would. I’d played major roles in several plays. In fact, I’d gotten every part I’d ever tried out for. Not only didn’t I get this part, I wasn’t even in the play, and darn it all, even now I think I would’ve done a good job of playing Helen Keller.”

  He grinned. “I’m sure you would have, too.”

  “What I learned from that ex
perience was not to fear failure. I survived not playing Helen Keller, and later, in college, when I was awarded a wonderful role, it heightened my appreciation of that success.” When Jordan didn’t immediately respond, she added, “Do you understand what I’m saying or are you asleep?”

  His eyes were still closed but his mouth lifted in a gentle smile. “I was just mulling over the sad history of your musical and acting careers.”

  Jill smiled, too. “I know it sounds ludicrous, but failure liberated me. My heart and soul went into my audition for that role, and when I lost, I felt I could never act again. It took me a long time to regain my confidence, to be willing to hazard another rejection, but eventually I was the stronger for it. When I decided to try out for a play in my freshman year of college, I felt as though I was somehow protected, because failure wasn’t going to rock me the way it had earlier.”

  “So you wanted to be an actress?”

  “No, I’m not much good at waiting tables.”

  Jordan didn’t immediately catch her joke, but when he did, he laughed out loud.

  “You know what they say about hindsight being twenty-twenty? In this case it’s true. If failure hadn’t taught me to appreciate success when I got it, I might have fallen into a nasty trap.”

  “What was that?”

  “Thinking I deserved it, believing I was so talented, so gifted, so good that I’d never lose.”

  Jordan fell silent. Jill waited a moment, then said, “Mr. Howard told me something…about the shopping-mall project. I didn’t say anything to you at the time because…well, because I wasn’t sure he wanted me to.”

  She had Jordan’s full attention now.

  He straightened, his eyes searching hers. “What did he say?”

  “He hasn’t often gone in on construction projects with you, has he?”

  “Only a handful of times.”

  “There’s a reason for that.”

  “Oh?”

  “You’ve never failed.”

  Jordan’s head came up sharply. “I beg your pardon?”