Crossed Hearts (Matchmaker Trilogy)

by Barbara Delinsky

  “I have to talk to you for a minute, Mr. Reynolds,” she said quickly and a little nervously as she fell into step beside him. “I was serious about what I said the other day. It would mean the world to all of us if you would agree to speak.”

  He kept walking at the same even pace. “I have nothing to say.”

  “But you do. You’ve had experiences we’ve only dreamed of having.”

  “I’m not who you think I am.”

  “You are. After we talked the other day, I went to the library and pored through the microfilms. The last anyone heard from or saw of Greg Reynolds was shortly before an automobile accident. The accident was reported in the papers. Greg Reynolds survived it, then disappeared. With your face and body, it would be too much of a coincidence to think that you’re not him.”

  He sliced her a glance, but she went on, clearly proud of herself.

  “I researched further. Greg Reynolds’s real name is Garrick Rodenhiser. That’s the name you’ve enrolled under here.”

  Garrick stopped then. “I’m a private citizen, Miss—”

  “Schumacher. Liza Schumacher.”

  “I don’t give talks, Miss Schumacher—”

  “Liza. We could keep it to a small group, if that’s what you’d prefer.”

  “I’d prefer,” he said quietly, almost beseechingly, “to have my privacy respected.”

  “We’d pay you—”

  “No, thanks.” He started off again.

  “An hour. A half-hour. That’s all we’d ask—”

  But he simply shook his head and kept going. Fortunately she didn’t follow.

  Again he told Leah about the encounter. Again she explored his feelings about it. “Are you sure you don’t want to do it?”

  “Speak? Are you kidding?”

  “She’s right, in a way. You have had the kind of experience that many of them want. It’s not unusual for representatives of different careers to talk to groups of students.”

  “Whose side are you on, Leah?”

  “Yours. You know that.”

  Thrusting his legs from the bed, he landed on his feet and stalked off to the window. “Well, I don’t want to speak—before students or any other group. For one thing, I don’t think much of the kind of experience I had. For another, I don’t relish the idea of confessing my sins to an audience.”

  “There was a positive side to what you did.”

  “Mmm. Somewhere. I can’t seem to see it, though. I suppose I could make up a good story. …”

  “Garrick …”

  He continued to stare out the window.

  “Why—really—won’t you speak?”

  He was silent for several more minutes, but he knew that Leah suspected the truth. It remained to be seen whether he had the courage to confirm it.

  “Ah, hell,” he muttered at last. “The truth of it is that deep down inside, I’m afraid I’ll like the feeling of power that comes when you’ve got an audience in your thrall—the rapt faces, the adulation, the applause. If I do it once, I may want to do it again, and if I do it a second time, a third could follow, and by that time I could be hooked on how wonderful I am.”

  “You are wonderful.”

  He bent his head and smiled, then turned and retraced his steps to the bed. Stretching out on his stomach before Leah, he grabbed her hand and pressed it to his lips. “You’re the only one I want to hear saying that, because you’re the only one who knows the real me. I’ve never talked to anyone the way I have to you. You’re better than an analyst any day.”

  Leah wasn’t sure if she liked the idea of being an analyst, because knowing another person’s thoughts meant knowing his fears, and Garrick still had many. She thought he’d made progress since he’d been in Concord, and perhaps, to some extent, he had—but he still didn’t trust himself. And that frightened her. She knew that she’d need his strength in the coming weeks and she didn’t want anything to dilute it.

  “I’ll settle for being your soul mate,” she said, and offered her lips for a kiss.

  THE SUDDEN SNOWSTORM THAT HIT during the first week of December did nothing for Leah’s peace of mind. True, Garrick’s classes were canceled, so he stayed home with her. But she had visions of going into premature labor while they were snowbound, in which case everything they’d gone through might have been in vain.

  They weren’t truly snowbound, as it happened. Nor did she go into premature labor. Day by day, though, she felt the baby move lower, and though Gregory had made arrangements to do the section on the fifteenth of December, she wondered if Garrick’s monster would wait that long.

  It was harder to see Garrick off to class now. She was physically uncomfortable and emotionally strung out. Only when he was with her could she begin to relax, knowing that he’d take over if something happened. But she did send him off. She felt he needed it, in more respects than the obvious one of taking his mind off the baby and her.

  On the eleventh of December she wished she’d been more selfish.

  10

  GARRICK LEFT CLASS and walked to his car, but he’d barely reached for the door, when a loud call echoed across the parking lot.

  “Mr. Reynolds!”

  His grip tightened on the handle. Only one person would call him that, and the last thing he wanted to do was to talk with her now. He wanted to be home with Leah.

  “Mr. Reynolds! Wait! Please!”

  He opened the door and fleetingly contemplated jumping inside, slamming down the locks and wheeling off. But he wasn’t a coward. Not anymore.

  Propping one arm above the window, he turned his head toward the young woman approaching. “Yes, Miss Schumacher?”

  Breathing hard from the run, she skidded to a halt by his side. “Thank you for waiting … I wanted to get here earlier … my class ran late.”

  “I’m running late myself. Was there something you wanted?” His breath was a white cloud in the cold air, though not quite large enough for him to vanish into as he wished he could do.

  “Since you didn’t feel comfortable speaking, I had another idea.” She darted a quick glance behind her. To Garrick’s dismay, a young man was trotting up to join them. “Darryl’s with the town newspaper. I thought—we thought—that it would be super to have an article. …”

  Garrick frowned. “I thought you said this would be our secret.”

  “I did. But then I started thinking.” She was slowly catching her breath. “It didn’t seem fair to be selfish—”

  “About what?”

  “About knowing who you are. It seemed unfair that I should keep everything to myself—”

  “Unfair to you?”

  “No, no. To the people around here who would find your story interesting.”

  Garrick studied her steadily. “What about me? What about what’s fair and unfair where I’m concerned?”

  If anything, she grew bolder. “You’re a star, Mr. Reynolds. Doesn’t that bring with it certain responsibilities?”

  “I’m not a star anymore,” he stated unequivocably and with an odd kind of pride. “I’m a private citizen. I have many responsibilities, but as far as I can see, none of them have to do with you, or your fellow students, or your professors, or your friends.” He cocked his head toward the reporter. “Is he your boyfriend?”

  She exchanged an awkward look with Darryl. “We’ve gone out a few times, but that doesn’t have anything—”

  “Are you lovers?”

  “That’s not—”

  “Is she good?” Garrick asked Darryl.

  Liza went red in the face. “That’s none of your business. I don’t see what my private life has to do with—”

  “My private life?” Garrick finished. “Nothing, Miss Schumacher. My questions are as much an invasion of your privacy as anything you—or Darryl—would ask me. I’ve already told you that I’m not interested in appearing publicly. That goes for big talks, small talks, newspaper articles and whatever else you come up with.”

  While he’d
been speaking, Liza’s expression had gone from embarrassment to dismay. In the silent minute that followed, it moved to anger. “The papers I read were right,” she decided, abandoning all pretense of deference. “You are arrogant.”

  “Not really,” Garrick said, surprised by the feeling of peace that was settling over him. “I’m simply trying to explain my feelings.” And not only to her. Suddenly things were falling into place. His vision of who he was and what he wanted in life was becoming crystal clear.

  Liza drew herself straighter. “I think you’re a has-been. You disappeared from the acting scene. I think it was because you couldn’t land any good parts after Pagen. I think you’re afraid to stand before a group, knowing that.”

  She was tall, but Garrick was taller. Setting his shoulders back, he took a deep breath. “You know something, Miss Schumacher? I don’t care what you think. The fact of the matter is that I’m not afraid to stand before anyone. I’m simply … not … interested. I chose to give up acting because it did nothing good for my life. You could offer me top billing in your next production and I’d refuse. You could offer to let me direct and I’d refuse. You could offer me headlines in the paper and I’d refuse. I live quietly now. I have a life that is much richer than anything I’ve known before. If you’d like to do an article, I’d be happy to tell you about trapping, or studying Latin, or whittling chess sets. As for acting, it’s not me anymore. I’ve been away from it for nearly five years now, and I don’t miss it.”

  “I find that hard to believe,” Liza said.

  “I’m sorry.”

  “You’re satisfied being a … a trapper?”

  “That’s only one of the things I do, but, yes, I’m satisfied. Very satisfied.”

  “But the publicity—”

  “Means nothing to me. I don’t need it, and I don’t want it.” His tone was a mellow one, but it held undisputable conviction, just as the glance he sent Darryl held more sympathy than apology. “I’m sorry you won’t get your story, but I really have nothing more to say.”

  “Mr. Rodenhiser? Mr. Rodenhiser!”

  His head shot up in response to the alarmed cry, eyes flying in the direction of the voice. It came from a woman he recognized as being a secretary in the language department. She was clutching a coat around her with one hand, waving a small piece of paper in the other as she speed-walked toward the car.

  “Thank goodness you haven’t left,” she panted.

  The sense of peace Garrick had experienced earlier was gone. His blood ran cold.

  “You just received a call from a Susan Walsh. She said that you were to meet Leah at the hospital.”

  “Oh, God,” he whispered hoarsely, but the words hadn’t left his mouth before he was in the car, leaving Liza Schumacher to jump out of the way of the slamming door. She and her boyfriend, the secretary, the school, the newspaper—all were forgotten. The only things he could think of were Leah and their baby. What had happened?

  Over and over he asked the question, sometimes silently, sometimes aloud. He drove as fast as he could, swerving after what seemed an eternity into a space outside the hospital’s emergency entrance. After being directed from one desk to the next, he finally connected with Gregory, who quickly put a reassuring arm around his shoulder.

  “Her water broke. We’re prepping her now. Come on. We’ll both scrub up.”

  “How is she?”

  “Terrified.”

  “And the baby?”

  “So far, so good. I want to take it as quickly as possible.”

  Garrick didn’t ask any more questions. He was too busy praying. Besides, he knew that Gregory didn’t have the answer to the one question he most wanted to ask. Only time would give that, and time was precious. He matched his step to the doctor’s as they hurried down the hall.

  Leah’s eyes were on the door when Garrick entered the delivery room. She held out a shaking hand and clutched his fingers fiercely. “They said you were on your way. Thank God you’re here.”

  “What happened?”

  “My water broke. I was lying in bed and it just broke. I hadn’t moved, I hadn’t done anything—”

  “Shhhh.” He was bending over her, pressing his mouth to her matted bangs. “You’ve done everything right, Leah. You’ve followed doctor’s orders to the letter. Tell me, how did you get here?”

  “I called Susan. Wasn’t that stupid? I should have called Gregory directly, but I remember thinking that Susan was closer and that I was glad we had a phone so I wouldn’t have to walk from the apartment to the house.”

  “It was smart of you to call Susan. She’s cool under fire.”

  “She called Gregory, and Gregory called the ambulance while I just sat there, trembling.”

  “It’s okay, honey.” He had a hand on her hair but was looking around the room in bewilderment, trying to interpret every nuance of the bustling activity. “Everything’s going to be okay.” A cloth barrier was being lifted into place to shield the operation from their view. He knew that it was standard procedure for a cesarean section, but then it struck him that, since her water had broken, she had to be in labor. His eyes shot to hers. “Are you in pain?”

  She gave a rapid little shake of her head. “I felt a few contractions before, but the spinal’s taken effect. I don’t feel a thing.” Her eyes widened and her fingers tightened around his. “I don’t feel anything, Garrick. Maybe something’s happened—”

  Gregory came up at that moment. “The baby’s fine, Leah. We’re monitoring the heartbeat, and it’s fine.” His gaze swung from her face to Garrick’s, then back. “All set to go?”

  Their nods were identically jerky. Gregory moved off. The anesthetist came to sit by Leah’s head, while a nurse slid a stool beneath Garrick.

  “Please, let it live,” Leah whispered to no one in the room.

  “It will,” Garrick whispered back, but his eyes were worried as they sought out Gregory.

  “We’re all thinking positive,” was Gregory’s response. He wasn’t making promises, but he appeared fully confident, which was as much as Leah could have asked.

  “Garrick?” she murmured.

  “Yes, love?”

  “How did everything go at school today?”

  He was momentarily startled. His thoughts weren’t on school. It was an unlikely subject to discuss given the time, place and circumstance. But he quickly understood what Leah was doing, so he forced himself to shift gears. “Not bad. I aced the exam.”

  “No kidding?”

  His smile was wobbly. “Would I kid you at a time like this? I got a ninety-seven.”

  “They say that older students do better.”

  “And I aced something else today.”

  “What?”

  “Liza Schumacher.”

  They were talking in hushed tones, eyes locked into each other’s with an urgency that acknowledged something momentous was taking place.

  “What happened with Liza Schumacher?” Leah asked.

  “She approached me with a local journalist in tow.”

  “Journalist!”

  “They wanted an interview.”

  “Oh, no.” Her fingers tightened around Garrick’s, but it didn’t have to do with the interview as much as the quiet talk coming from beyond the cloth barrier. She wanted to ask what was happening but didn’t dare.

  Garrick seemed in a similar quandary. He darted frantic eyes toward Gregory, who was concentrating on his work, his lower face covered by a mask. Garrick quickly calmed his expression when he looked down at Leah again.

  “I said that I wasn’t interested and it struck me that I wasn’t. I really wasn’t.”

  “Temptation—”

  “Isn’t temptation. I don’t want what’s being offered. There’s nothing to threaten me.”

  “But if she’s already told one reporter who you are—”

  “It doesn’t matter. She can tell ten reporters, and it still won’t matter.”

  “And if this one reporter
writes something—”

  “That’s fine. He can write about how I’ve found a better life. It’s not the kind of story that will sell papers, so one installment will be enough. He’ll lose interest. Other reporters will, too. And it won’t bother me at all.”

  “I’m glad,” she whispered, then added quickly, “What are they doing?”

  “Baby’s doing well, Leah,” came Gregory’s call. “You two keep talking. It sounds like a fascinating discussion.”

  “I want the baby, Garrick,” she whimpered.

  “Me, too, love. Me, too. Are you feeling anything?”

  “No.”

  “Any pain?”

  “No.”

  All too aware of the emotional pain she was undergoing, he sent a panicky glance toward the anesthesiologist. “Maybe you should have knocked her out.”

  “No!” Leah cried. “I want to know.”

  “We’re getting there, Leah,” came Gregory’s utterly calm voice.

  It settled Leah momentarily. Tipping her head farther toward Garrick, she pressed their twined hands to her warm cheek. “When … when are finals?” she asked in the same small whisper she’d used before.

  “Another week. I may skip them.”

  “Oh, no—after all the work you’ve done?”

  “I’m only taking the courses for fun.”

  “Then take the exams for fun.”

  “Exams aren’t fun.”

  “I’ll help you study.”

  “That might be fun. But then you might be—”

  A tiny cry cut off his words. His heart began to slam against his ribs, and he jerked up his head.

  Leah’s breath was catching in her throat. “Garrick?” She raised her voice. “Gregory?”

  Another, stronger cry echoed through the room, followed by Gregory’s satisfied, “Ahhh, she’s a lusty one.”

  “She,” Leah breathed, tear-filled eyes clinging to Garrick’s face.

  He was rising from the stool, tearing his gaze from Leah to focus on the small bundle Gregory held. A tiny arm flailed the air. Grinning through unchecked tears, he returned to Leah.