Some Kind of Wonderful

by Barbara Freethy

  "You really love kids, don't you?"

  He didn't know the half of it. "Yeah," was all she said.

  "You've been great with Emily." He turned her around to face him. "I will promise you one thing. I won't hand Emily over without having a discussion about why Sarah left her with me."

  "You have to do that, Matt, even though I know you're dying to see Sarah. You can't let your feelings from the past overrule your common sense. You can't let your reunion with Sarah be more important than Emily's welfare."

  "That won't happen," he replied, his face as serious as her own. "Emily is my primary concern. I know what it's like to be raised by a mother who shouldn't be a mother. I won't let Emily grow up in that situation. But I want to give Sarah a chance to explain, because if they can be together, they should be."

  Before she could reply, the phone rang again. "You should get that," Caitlyn said, moving away from him. "It could be Blake."

  The phone had awakened Emily, who began to whimper and stretch. While Matt took the call, Caitlyn picked up the baby. Changing Emily's diaper and getting a bottle ready gave Caitlyn a chance to put matters back into perspective. By the time Matt hung up the phone, she was convinced she could keep everything on an even keel. With her emotions safely locked away once again, she sat down on the couch and placed a bottle in Emily's mouth.

  "Was that the investigator?" she asked.

  "No, my editor, David Stern." Matt kicked the teddy bear out of the armchair and sat down, watching them both for a long minute. "You've got a natural touch with babies."

  "It's easy when you have a bottle in your hand."

  "It's more than that, and you know it. You have..." His voice trailed away, and she wondered what he was thinking.

  "I have what?"

  "A lot to give," he said somewhat cryptically. "Most people are more comfortable with taking than with giving."

  "Which are you? A giver or a taker?"

  "That's easy, a taker."

  "I don't think so."

  "Why not?"

  "Well, for one thing, if you were a taker, I think you'd have more furniture."

  He smiled at that and tipped his head. "Point taken. Speaking of taking, do you want me to take Emily?"

  "No, I'm fine." She'd cuddle with Emily for a few minutes, then say good-night and go home. Tomorrow, she would get her life back to normal. "You can get me a fortune cookie, though."

  "Deal." Matt got up and retrieved the bag of fortune cookies from the table. He handed her one and sat down next to her.

  She cracked the cookie with one hand, careful not to jostle the bottle out of Emily's mouth. Then she pulled out the slip of white paper and laughed out loud.

  "What?" Matt asked.

  " 'When fortune knocks, you should answer.' "

  "Words to live by." He surprised her by leaning over and giving her a quick kiss on the lips.

  "What was that for?"

  "I told you I was a taker. Your hands were full. I figured that was fortune knocking for me."

  "Oh." She paused, her mouth still tingling. "My hands are still full."

  Matt's eyes darkened as he answered her unspoken wish with a kiss. This kiss was warm, tender, satisfying, like a long, cool drink after a long, hot day. Caitlyn could feel the passion checked carefully between them as only their mouths met in the promise of more -- someday, but not this day.

  When Matt pulled away, he brushed the hair from her face with a gentle caress. "You know those moments you were talking about, when everything seems perfect? I think this might be one of those."

  "I think you might be right." She only wished the moment could last forever.

  Chapter Eleven

  Sarah glanced out the window of the church minivan as Jonathan pulled up in front of yet another apartment building. It was the tenth one they'd gone to since they'd started delivering dinners just after four o'clock. She'd begun to lose track. She had to admit that bringing food to people who couldn't get out of the house had taken her mind off her own problems for a while. She was still somewhat surprised that there were people like Jonathan who actually did this stuff. Certainly no one had ever cared enough to bring her and Mattie a meal, not even when they'd been really, really hungry.

  Sarah didn't want Emily to ever know the kind of hunger pains that gnawed at you until you'd actually consider catching and eating one of the cockroaches that ran through your apartment. If she could protect her from that kind of life, wouldn't that be something? Wouldn't that mean that giving her up was the right thing to do?

  "Ready for one more?" Jonathan asked, interrupting her thoughts.

  She nodded. "Sure."

  "You've been a big help today," he said.

  "I haven't done much more than unwrap some plates."

  "Some people never do that much."

  She sent him a thoughtful look. "You're a good man. I guess you're blessed or something, huh?"

  He smiled at her. "We're all blessed, Sarah. Even you."

  "I don't know about that."

  "I do. I wish I could find the words to make you believe. That's always been my biggest problem, finding the right words."

  Sarah glanced at him, struck by the weariness in his voice.

  "What good is a preacher who can't find the right words to preach?" he asked.

  She didn't know what he wanted her to say. But then she'd never been that good with words, either.

  "I thought somewhere along the way I'd find the words, that God would send them to me, not to help me, but to help the people around me, the ones I was meant to serve. But it hasn't happened, and it may soon be too late."

  "What do you mean?"

  "There's a possibility that the church may close if I can't increase the attendance at Sunday services. Real estate in this area has skyrocketed, and the land the church sits on is very valuable. The church could sell it and use that money to fund other programs, ones they think would reach more people than the empty church is reaching."

  "But they can't tear down the church," Sarah cried, not even hearing the rest of his explanation. All she knew was that they couldn't close down her church. She grabbed his shirtsleeve and twisted it with her fingers. "You have to stop them."

  He stared at her in surprise. "It's just a possibility. And I am trying to do something about it. Are you all right?"

  She looked down at her hand and immediately let go.

  "Why do you care if they tear down the church?" he asked, sending her a thoughtful glance.

  "I don't care," she said, but he didn't believe her. And why should he after her reaction? It was just that the church, the steeple, it was one of the few things in her life that was still around, that meant something.

  "You care. Look at you, there's a flush in your cheeks and a fire in your eyes. I like it."

  Sarah turned away from him. She couldn't believe she'd shown she cared about something. It was a lesson she'd learned early on. Never let anyone know that you want something, because that's the thing they'll take away when they want to hurt you. Just like her mother had taken away the candles …

  She looked out the window at the nearby apartment building, so similar to the one she'd grown up in, which was just a few blocks away. Was there a little girl somewhere inside, on one of the top floors, who looked out her window at night and saw a steeple and felt hope? What would she see if they tore down the church? How would she feel then?

  "Sarah? Tell me what's bothering you."

  "I used to live around here."

  Jonathan waited patiently for her to go on. That was something she liked about him. He didn't jump into a reply or an argument. Gary always said she was slow, but Jonathan didn't make her feel that way. He made her feel calm.

  "I used to kneel next to my bedroom window at night, and I could see the steeple of the church. Sometimes the moon would light it up, and I thought God or the angels were sending me a sign that it would be all right. The only times I couldn't see the steeple was when it rained or when t
he fog came in. Then I'd just crawl under the covers and wait for the morning to come so I could see it again, so everything would be all right."

  "I'm glad the church called to you when you needed it the most."

  "But if you tear the steeple down, what happens to the little girl or the little boy who lives up there?" She pointed to the building. "What will they see when they look out their window?"

  She saw in Jonathan's eyes the same worry, the same fear. "I don't know if I'm good enough to save it, Sarah."

  "But you are good." She knew that with a certainty that she couldn't explain. "Look at what you did today, bringing food to all these people who can't get out."

  "I need to do more. I need to fill my church every Sunday with people who want to praise the Lord."

  "Folks around here probably don't think they got much to praise. No offense."

  "None taken. I know it's hard to see God in places like this." He sighed. "Maybe it's impossible. I could be beating my head against a wall. I hope if I keep showing up here, offering a helping hand, maybe they won't just see me when I come, maybe they'll see God, too. That sounds idealistic, I know."

  "It sounds nice."

  "Well, nice won't deliver the last of our Sunday suppers. Can you stand one more trip?"

  "I think so."

  Sarah followed Jonathan into the apartment building, down the dimly lit hallways that smelled like cigarette smoke and beer, a scent with which she was intensely familiar. A small child, barely two, played alone outside a half-open door. Inside, Sarah could hear the sounds of an argument. She wondered if anyone knew the little girl with the dirty face was outside the apartment.

  She was suddenly assailed by the old feelings of fear, uncertainty, and loneliness. She didn't want to raise Emily in a place like this. She didn't want to see her child crawling around on a dirty carpet in a place where no one cared about anything or anyone.

  Matt's hallway had smelled clean. The carpeting had felt soft under her feet, and there had been no graffiti on the walls, only pretty pictures. That's the kind of place where Emily belonged. Suddenly, the confusion of the past few days was gone. Sarah knew exactly what she had to do.

  * * *

  "I know what I have to do," Brian told Caitlyn as she answered her door early Monday morning.

  Barely awake, Caitlyn blinked rapidly, trying to clear her head. Brian was the last person she'd expected to find in her hallway. She'd assumed the pounding on her door was Matt. She drew her terry cloth bathrobe more closely around her, distinctly aware of the less-than-sexy gray T-shirt underneath, not to mention her tangled mess of hair that she instinctively tried to pat down.

  "I know what I have to do, what we have to do," Brian repeated, looking far too awake in his tan Dockers and white polo shirt.

  "What time is it?" she asked in confusion.

  "It's seven-thirty. But that's not important. I have a proposition for you."

  "Maybe you could come back later, when I'm awake."

  "I don't think so. You've opened your door, and I consider that a victory. This is the perfect time."

  "Perfect time for what?"

  "Getting reacquainted. I'd like to take you to breakfast. How about Nini's? I know you love their vegetable omelets, and I promise not to say a word if you order the greasy potatoes."

  Nini's? Caitlyn suddenly realized how long it had been since she'd gone to the coffee shop near the university. In fact, she couldn't remember...

  "I haven't been to Nini's since before the accident," she said slowly.

  Brian appeared surprised. "Really? But you love that place."

  Did she? Or was he the one who loved it? Or was it her mother? She'd been going there forever. Yet, once she'd broken away from her parents and Brian, she hadn't once thought of going there. It was an odd revelation but it seemed to mean something; she just couldn't quite figure out what.

  "What do you say?" Brian persisted. "Your mother told me you don't usually go into the shop before ten on Mondays."

  Caitlyn silently cursed her mother's helpfulness. "That's true, but--”

  "You can't avoid me forever."

  Maybe not forever, but she'd been hoping for at least one more day.

  "We need to talk this out, Caitlyn, clear the air, so we can move forward. My mother gave me a book on male/female relationships, and I can see that we've had a communication problem in the past."

  "You think you can figure me out by reading a book?" she asked him. She was both touched and amused by his plan.

  "I think the book has already helped me. I have to admit you've been somewhat of a mystery to me at times."

  A mystery he'd never tried that hard to solve, she thought cynically. Still, he was trying now, and she supposed she should be flattered by the effort.

  "Why now, Brian? Why the sudden interest in figuring out what makes me tick?"

  "Because I want you back in my life."

  "Why? What did you miss about us?"

  "A lot of things."

  "Like what?"

  "Well, I missed this." He placed his hands on her waist and pulled her against him, planting a determined and firm kiss on her lips.

  Caitlyn was so amazed and dazed by the sudden action she didn't immediately pull away. Her brain was trying to register Brian, kiss, feeling... feeling what? It had been a long time between kisses. But there was a familiarity to the embrace that made her wonder deep down inside if there could still be something left to save.

  Then a door slammed, and Caitlyn broke away from Brian like a guilty teenager.

  Matt's face was grim and accusing as he stared at them both. "Maybe you should find a bedroom," he said tersely.

  "Matt, I--” Caitlyn didn't know what to say, nor did she know why she felt like a guilty lover. It was none of Matt's business who she kissed or where she kissed. "What do you want anyway?"

  "I heard a noise. I thought maybe Sarah..."

  "She's not here."

  "Well, don't let me interrupt." He stepped back into his apartment and slammed the door again.

  "What the hell is his problem?" Brian asked, an unusual anger in his normally calm eyes. "You keep saying you're just neighbors, but that looked like more than neighbors to me."

  "You're imagining things," she said, still staring at Matt's door. Or was he? There had been a look in Matt's eyes, a look she'd never expected to see -- possessiveness. Why? He barely wanted to be neighbors, much less anything more.

  "Let me take you to breakfast, or at least let me come inside," Brian said. "We could use some privacy."

  The last thing she wanted was privacy, not when she was feeling confused and unsure of what she wanted to do next. She needed coffee and a shower and her clothes on. Then she could deal with Brian -- and Matt, too, for that matter.

  "I can't do this now," she replied decisively. "You have to give me some time."

  "We've had too much time as it is," he complained.

  "Another day won't make a difference. I turned everything off when you walked out of that hospital room, Brian, and whether I told you to go or wanted you to go doesn't change the fact that you went, and I was alone, and it hurt." Her voice shook as she remembered in vivid detail the pain of that long, lonely day. "It hurt a lot. I know that things look better to you now. I'm walking. I'm healthy. You're back in town. So you think why not get back together -- take two, as they say. But this isn't a movie. We can't just go for another shot and get the same emotion we had before."

  "We can try." Brian took her hand in his. "Maybe it won't be like it was before. Maybe it will be better."

  "What would make it better?"

  He seemed confused by her question. "What do you mean?"

  "What do you think you want out of a relationship with me?"

  "I just want you. That's what I want." He paused, a frown settling across his features as he looked into her eyes. "That's not the right answer, is it?"

  "There is no right answer--”

  "I should have bro
ught that damn book with me."

  "So you can use it like a dictionary, translating my words for you?"

  "If you'd speak in plain English, it would be easier for me. I'll admit that I'm a numbers man. Words are far more complicated." He squeezed her hand. "Why don't you tell me what you want? Why don't we start there?"

  "I want you to already know what I want," she said, silently admitting that wasn't particularly reasonable, but it was the way she felt.

  He sighed. "That's what I was afraid of. Look, I'm going to go read chapter seven again, but I will be back, because one thing I have learned is that go does not always mean go. So even though you've said no to breakfast, I won't assume that means you don't want another invitation. That's right, isn't it?"

  This time it was Caitlyn who sighed.

  "Never mind," he said. 'I'll be back."

  Caitlyn watched him walk down the hall. Somehow she didn't think relationships were supposed to be this hard.

  * * *

  "That's it," Matt told Emily as he wrestled her kicking foot into a new yellow sleeper. "We are out of here. I will not continue to sit around waiting for something to happen. I'm going to make it happen."

  The waiting was driving him up the wall. Not to mention the crying. Emily had kept him up half the night. If he didn't find a way to muzzle the midnight crying, he would probably be evicted. His downstairs neighbor had leveled a three-o'clock-in-the-morning complaint about the music.

  He'd tried taking Emily up to the roof after that, but it hadn't been the same without Caitlyn whispering stories about star-crossed lovers in his ear. Not that he needed that nonsense, he told himself. But Emily had seemed less enchanted with the night sky as well. Finally, he'd put her in the car and driven her around for an hour until she'd finally fallen asleep sometime around five, which made him tired and grumpy.

  Not jealous, he decided. Definitely not jealous. That scene in the hallway had not bothered him one little bit.

  Matt closed the last snap on Emily's sleeper and held her up to face him. She offered him a crooked smile, and he felt his anger slowly seep away. At least this female didn't have a hidden agenda. He couldn't say the same for Caitlyn -- kissing him last night, kissing Brian this morning... talk about being fickle.