Three Brides, No Groom

by Debbie Macomber

  Although he was getting on in years, Uncle Alfie had insisted on attending her graduation. She wished now that she’d worked harder, earned better grades. Uncle Alfie was a sweetheart, and she owed him more than she could ever repay.

  After practice she couldn’t escape the school gymnasium fast enough. The last hour had dragged like a dredge scraping the ocean bottom. Sitting though the interminable practice had been pure torture, so great was her need to talk to John. And all the while she’d waited, she’d prayed that he’d cleared up whatever had plagued him the day before.

  After rushing across the campus, she found him alone in his classroom, reading a technical journal. When he saw her, he quickly closed the magazine and stuffed it into his briefcase.

  She relaxed. All was well.

  Then his eyes hardened, and her heart went still.

  “John?”

  “Get out.”

  “What?” She couldn’t believe what she was hearing. This was the man she loved, the man she planned to marry!

  He stood, and his face darkened in a scowl. “You heard me. Out.”

  It was almost comical that he believed he could intimidate her with a few angry words. She’d stood up to bigger men than John Theda. Ignoring his command, she marched into the classroom, then stood her ground, refusing to move until she discovered what was wrong. “You owe me an explanation,” she said. “What’s going on?”

  He stood and snapped his briefcase closed. “I’ve had a change of heart.”

  “Just like that?” She snapped her fingers.

  “Just like that,” he agreed. “I can’t trust you.”

  “But…that’s ridiculous!”

  “I relied on you to keep our relationship private, and you blew it.”

  “But surely—”

  “That isn’t all.” He looked as if the mere sight of her was enough to make him sick to his stomach. “Do you seriously think I don’t know what’s going on between you and Steve Malcom?”

  “Steve Malcom!” That was ridiculous.

  “I understand the two of you were kissing in full view of the entire student body.”

  She opened her mouth to defend herself, then promptly closed it. The kissing incident had happened following the ugly confrontation with John, and now he was using it as an excuse to give credibility to his behavior. What nerve!

  “It’s over,” he announced, as if they were talking about something as mundane as a television movie, instead of their lives together.

  Her knees felt as if they would no longer support her. “I don’t understand,” she said, and her voice, faint as a summer breeze, wavered with shock and dismay.

  “I don’t expect you to. Now leave, and don’t try to contact me again. Goodbye.” With his spine ramrod stiff, John Theda stalked out of the classroom.

  Maddie couldn’t remember ever being more hurt in all her life. For almost twenty minutes she sat and waited for the worst of the pain to pass.

  Uncle Alfie, so kind and wise, had told her that a person’s maturity could be gauged by how quickly they bounced back from disappointment. John’s rejection was more than a disappointment. A numbness that refused to go away settled in the area of her heart.

  She’d learned her lesson, though, and it would take a long time for her to risk her heart again.

  A very long time.

  * * *

  Graduation was a blur. The one thing Maddie remembered was walking across the stage and being required to pose briefly for the camera. Knowing John was sitting somewhere in the front three rows with the other faculty members gave her the necessary incentive to act as though she hadn’t a care in the world. She dazzled Dean Williams with the brilliance of her smile, accepted her diploma and walked down the stairs.

  Following the ceremony, Uncle Alfie and her mother met her on the lawn outside. The glorious sunshine made her squint as she stepped out of the gymnasium. Ellie Coolidge hugged her and wiped a tear from the corner of her eye, then turned to speak with a friend.

  Uncle Alfie hugged Maddie next. “Your father would have been so proud of you,” he whispered close to her ear.

  Humbled, she pressed her head to his shoulder. It was then that she saw Brent Holliday with his family. His gaze, dark and full of disapproval, lingered on her. Nuts to him. She refused to allow him or John Theda or anyone else to destroy her enjoyment of this day.

  Uncle Alfie insisted on taking her and her mother to dinner at one of his private clubs. They sat at a corner table in an elegant dining room, where the walls were made of dark polished wood and the distinguished gold-framed portraits resembled the waiters in their starched black tie.

  “I can’t tell you how pleased I am,” her mother said as she set aside her menu. The prices were outrageous, but Maddie knew Uncle Alfie wanted them to ignore the cost.

  Ellie Coolidge had never remarried. In many ways Maddie felt as if she’d lost both parents the day her father died. Her mother had withdrawn from life, shriveled up and surrendered to her grief. Maddie’s world was forever changed.

  “I’m pleased you chose Queen Anne University,” Uncle Alfie said, breaking into her thoughts.

  She smiled, seeing as her sweetheart of an uncle had helped her make that choice. “I am, too,” she said, pushing all thoughts of John from her mind and heart. After four years on campus, she would miss the school, miss shaking up a few sensibilities, miss the few friends she’d made.

  “It’s a good school,” her mother inserted.

  Maddie agreed with a nod.

  “From what I understand, one of your mathematics professors recently made a name for himself in the history books.”

  “Really.” She hadn’t heard anything about that. She reached for a dinner roll and a pat of butter shaped like a tiny rosebud.

  “John Theda’s his name, if I recall correctly,” Uncle Alfie continued.

  She dropped her butter knife. It hit the edge of the gold-rimmed plate with a clang. Hastily she apologized and stared at her uncle. “Say that again?”

  “I read about it in the Journal of Higher Mathematics.”

  She continued to stare at her uncle blankly. “I don’t understand.”

  “The quadratic quandary,” Uncle Alfie said. “He solved it. It’s gone unsolved for fifty years, maybe longer. It’s been years since I wrestled with it myself. Every high-level math student does, you know.”

  “When did this happen?” she asked. One thing Maddie had learned about John in the months they’d dated was that he was basically lazy. He did exactly what was required of him to teach class and nothing beyond that. If he’d worked on solving the quadratic quandary, it was news to her.

  “This April,” her uncle explained. “It’s big news.”

  “What is the quadratic quandary?” Maddie asked.

  Uncle Alfie, an engineer by trade, removed a pad and pen from his inside jacket pocket and wrote out the equation. He stared at it for a couple of moments more, shook his head and scribbled a note, then handed it to her.

  She studied the equation and then looked up. “This isn’t it.”

  Uncle Alfie frowned. “It is, as I recall.”

  She scowled. “I had this problem on a midterm test.”

  “Yes, that’s quite common. I told you that almost every mathematical student is given the opportunity to solve it. So many people trying, but it’s never been done. That’s why that professor from Queen Anne is making a name for himself.”

  “But…” The room started to swim, and she gripped the edge of the table.

  “Maddie—” her mother gently touched her arm “—is everything all right, sweetheart?”

  She couldn’t answer, the anger bubbling up inside her until it threatened to explode. John Theda hadn’t solved the quadratic quandary. She had. And he was taking the credit.

  Chapter 2

  Maddie hadn’t meant to stop in the church. Eaten up with anger and frustration, she had started walking aimlessly, with no real destination in mind. Two months h
ad passed since graduation. She’d found a decent apartment and a good job with an insurance company, and had tried to make a life for herself. Outwardly she was doing well, but inwardly the turmoil brewed like malted beer. Nights were the worst. Try as she might, she couldn’t get John out of her mind. The love she felt for him had festered like an infected sore. Bitterness ate at her. Anger. Frustration. She had no peace, no sleep, no comfort.

  He had used her, and she’d been too blind and stupid to realize it. Used her, and while he was busy taking credit for her accomplishment, he’d made sure she hadn’t a clue what he was doing. No one would believe her if she had the audacity to claim she’d solved the quadratic quandary. And that was exactly what he was counting on her doing. Nothing.

  It had taken her almost a week to realize how it had happened. She remembered how she’d arrived for the exam late and therefore hadn’t been there to hear him explain that the problem on the final sheet had never been solved, so the students shouldn’t make themselves crazy over it. If ever there was a testament to positive thinking, this was it. She’d believed it was just one more problem on an already difficult test, and so she’d raced, full steam ahead, thinking the others had worked out the solution, so she could, too.

  Later, when he handed back the tests, he had called her to his desk and apologized for having lost hers, though he’d assured her that he’d graded it first and she’d done well. He’d smiled, and because she’d been so infatuated with him, she’d accepted him at his word. As a means of making it up to her, he’d invited her to have coffee with him. She’d practically fallen all over herself in her eagerness to accept. Thinking about it now made her feel ill.

  Everything would have gone smoothly for him if she hadn’t blown the whistle and announced their engagement before graduation. His plan was to be long gone before she learned what he’d done and how he’d done it. From what she understood, he would be living in Seattle for what remained of the summer, but he would be leaving in the fall because he’d accepted a position at a prestigious university elsewhere and been granted a full professorship.

  The bitterness, anger and frustration made it impossible for her to hold still, and so she walked, often late into the night, until she was too exhausted to do anything but fall into bed and sleep.

  This evening she stopped at the church. The door was unlocked, an unexpected surprise. She wasn’t sure what had led her to this particular church or why she felt drawn inside. What she sought, she suspected, was peace.

  Slipping into the last pew in the darkened sanctuary, she bowed her head and closed her eyes. She hadn’t done a whole lot of praying in her life, but she did now, silently pouring out her heart, grateful that the church was deserted. She wasn’t sure how long she sat there in solitude. Perhaps she even dozed. The next thing she knew, someone said her name.

  “Maddie?” The voice held evident surprise.

  Flustered, she glanced up, her heart pounding. Brent Holliday. He was the last person she wanted to see. How amused he must be to find her in a church.

  Without waiting for a sarcastic comment, she grabbed her purse and leaped to her feet. She was half out the door when he said, “Don’t go.”

  She stopped midstride, her back to him. She said nothing, didn’t turn around, but she didn’t start walking again, either. Not sure what had prompted her to obey his command, she closed her eyes, willing this to be over quickly. What John had done to her was humiliating enough.

  “Church was the last place I expected to find you.” Although the words cut, they lacked his usual biting sarcasm.

  “I bet. Well, don’t worry, I won’t make attendance a habit. Nice seeing you again, Brent,” she said, her tone giving the lie to the words, and then stepped into the night, unwilling to linger. Unwilling to invite his further disapproval.

  “Maddie.”

  She raced down the stairs, her feet bouncing against the concrete steps in her rush to escape.

  That he hurried after her, his footsteps echoing hers, was a surprise of its own. Walking swiftly, she buried her hands in her pockets and forged ahead, pretending she hadn’t heard him.

  “Wait, Maddie. Please.”

  It was the “please” that did it. She paused beside a streetlight, exhaled sharply and lifted her chin. “What?” she demanded, giving the impression she had places to go, people to see.

  Brent was standing about four feet away. He didn’t say anything for a long time, but when she shifted her weight from one foot to the next in a silent hint of impatience, he finally spoke. “I owe you an apology.”

  “Several, I’d say.” She wasn’t going to make this easy for him, not that she was particularly angry with him. Any irritation with him paled next to what she felt toward John Theda.

  “All right, several,” he agreed. “I regret the things I said during graduation rehearsal—and other times too,” he added, lumping his offenses together in one fell swoop.

  She blinked twice, remembering how his attitude and his words had bitten into her ego and how she’d pretended otherwise. He had never made a secret of his contempt for her.

  “Don’t worry about it.” Her forgiveness came easily. It was unlikely they would meet up again, and she wasn’t one to hold grudges. Then again, maybe she was. She would like nothing better than to find a way to hurt John.

  Brent hesitated, and she wasn’t sure if he wanted to say more. She was about to leave when he asked gently, “Are you okay?”

  She bristled, embarrassed by being found praying in a church. By Brent. “Of course I am. Why wouldn’t I be?”

  “You tell me. You aren’t exactly the first person I’d expect to find in a church at night.” He sounded edgy himself, irritated, which was exactly what she wanted. If she made him angry enough, maybe he would leave her alone.

  Still she didn’t look at him. Not directly, anyway, for fear he would notice the shadows beneath her eyes or the weight she’d lost. Afraid he would ask questions she didn’t want to answer.

  The silence stretched tautly between them. Maddie was eager to be on her way, yet reluctant to leave, which made no sense. But she felt there was something more Brent longed to say and was holding back. Not that she’d encouraged him.

  “I…I’ve got to get home,” she blurted, although it was a small lie. No one awaited her return. No one worried if she was home or not.

  “Yeah, me too. Do you want a ride?”

  “No, but thanks.” She stepped away from the light and then hesitated, remembering he’d been a criminology major. It was only polite that she inquire how life was treating him. “Everything going okay at the police academy?”

  “Great.”

  She offered him a brief wobbly smile. “I’m pleased to hear it. Good to see you again, Brent.” Surprisingly, she meant that.

  “You too, Maddie.”

  For some inexplicable reason, she thought she heard a hint of sadness in his voice. Well, if he was suffering a few regrets, so was she, but her regrets were bogged down with self-recriminations for allowing herself to be used by someone who didn’t deserve or appreciate her love.

  “Good night,” she added, meaning the words. Brent wasn’t so bad, and she wished now that she’d made more of an effort to get to know him when she’d had the chance. She’d gone no more than a few steps when he called out to her once more.

  Hands in her pockets, she turned around, poised in the middle of the sidewalk.

  “If you ever need someone or something, call me.”

  “You?” She wasn’t sure she’d heard him correctly. Only a few months earlier he’d mocked her. Now he claimed he wanted to help her.

  He cocked a smile, one side of his mouth riding up with amusement. “Yes, me. You’re not doing my ego any good, you know.”

  She chuckled softly, and it felt good. The last time she’d had reason to laugh had been too long ago to remember. She’d buried herself in recrimination, doubts and regrets. It was a tight fit, leaving little room for humor or frivolity.
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  By the time she’d walked back to her apartment, it was well after midnight and she was exhausted. After a long hot shower, she climbed into bed and slept the night through, something she hadn’t done in weeks.

  She awoke refreshed and eager for a new day. It took her some time to realize why she felt better. Brent Holliday. What had happened to cause him to apologize she didn’t know. It didn’t matter. She was grateful to know she had at least one friend in Seattle.

  The idea didn’t come to her until the following afternoon. While she didn’t know Brent Holliday well, she felt strongly that he’d meant what he’d said. If she needed someone or something, all she had to do was give him a call. She wanted to believe his offer of friendship was sincere, so decided to test it.

  She hadn’t told anyone what John had done. What good would it do? she reasoned. No one was likely to believe her. No one would expect her to be capable of such an achievement. What irked her the most was that she’d done this to herself. She’d played a silly game, dressed and acted like a “bad girl,” a brainless twit. An aptitude for numbers didn’t fit in with her carefully constructed image.

  Her mistake had been that, in assuming the role she had chosen, she’d almost lost her true identity, forgotten who she really was. Well, no more. She’d packed away her thigh-high leather boots, tamed her hair and lengthened her skirts, then stared at the stranger in the mirror. The Maddie who’d been so hungry for attention was forever gone. The one who grieved over the loss of her emotional innocence had laid claim to her soul, and the real Maddie Coolidge had stepped forward.

  It’d taken her the better part of the summer to discover who the real Maddie actually was, and she’d learned that she liked this person. The woman without pretensions. The woman who had no need to impress others. The woman willing to take a chance on being herself.