Some Kind of Wonderful

by Barbara Freethy

  "This is where it all started," Matt said.

  "Right here."

  "I don't want it to end."

  She wasn't sure she'd heard him correctly. "What did you say?"

  "I don't want it to end, you and me, Caitlyn. That's what I don't want to end."

  "There is no you and me without Emily," she argued, feeling she had to point it out to him one last time.

  "There could be." He moved closer to her, putting his hands on her waist, burning her with his touch. "We were good together even when we weren't changing diapers. I know you know that, even though you're not willing to admit it. We clicked on a lot of levels. I've never known a woman like you. I never knew I could feel the way I feel when I'm with you."

  She swayed slightly, torn between pushing him away and pulling him closer. "How do you feel?"

  "I love you, Caitlyn," he said slowly, deliberately, purposefully.

  Her breath caught in her chest. "You do?"

  "Yes. I love the way you smile at the silliest little things, the way you light up a room when you walk into it, the way you insist on seeing the good things in life and in people and in me. I don't know if I deserve to have you, but I sure as hell want you. Now, tell me how you feel, and remember that you can't lie to me. I'll see right through you."

  She looked into his eyes and saw a man who spoke only the truth. How could she do anything but the same? "I love the way you can read my mind, the way you don't need a book to figure me out, the way you boost my confidence and make me feel stronger and braver than I've ever felt in my life. I love the way you accept me for who I am without trying to change me. I love you, Matt, with all my heart."

  "Thank God," he muttered, pressing his mouth against hers.

  She took him in, all the way in, into her mouth, into her heart, into her soul. He was everywhere, in every molecule of air that she breathed. Love had never been so all consuming. And she knew without a doubt that this was meant to be.

  "We'll figure out the kid thing," Matt muttered against her mouth as he continued to press kisses along her lips, her cheek, and the sensitive spot behind her ear. "We can adopt. There are hundreds of kids out there who need the kind of love we can give them."

  She pulled slightly away so she could look into his face. "Are you sure, Matt? It's all so fast. I don't want you to make any promises now. It's enough to know that you love me. The rest I want you to think about. If you want children of your own, you should have them."

  "I don't have to think about it, Caitlyn. I know what I want, and it's you."

  "Think about it anyway," she said, placing her finger against his lips as he started to interrupt. "I don't want either of us to have any doubts. I want to take it slow."

  "How slow?" he asked with a sexy smile. "Because, believe me, I can go as slow as you want."

  "Well, not that slow," she said with a laugh. "You'll drive me crazy."

  "That would be my pleasure. Now, as for our next date..."

  "We're going to date?"

  "If we're going slow, we are. Our next official date will be Sunday morning."

  Her eyes narrowed suspiciously. "Sunday morning? What happens then?"

  "You'll see.”

  * * *

  Caitlyn couldn't believe Matt was taking her to church. She was still in shock when they stepped through the doors of Jonathan's church two days later.

  "This is where you wanted to go for a date?" she whispered.

  He smiled lovingly at her. "We're not just here to date, we're on a mission. I figured the church saved Sarah, so we need to save the church."

  Caitlyn nodded, having heard both Jonathan and Sarah talk about the problems at the church over the weekend. But Matt had never mentioned any mission to her until now.

  "I hope you don't mind, but I invited your parents and Jolie, too."

  Caitlyn's mouth fell open again as she saw her parents chatting with Jolie. "What on earth are you up to?"

  "You'd know, Caitlyn, if you ever read the newspaper," he replied with a smug smile.

  "Caitlyn!" Her mother came rushing over to her, giving her a hug of delight, followed by her father and Jolie, who were all muttering congratulations.

  Caitlyn turned to Jolie when her parents were finally distracted. "Did you see the paper this morning?"

  "Of course I did," Jolie said with a laugh. "Didn't you?"

  "No, I did not. You know I don't read the paper."

  "And you're in love with a newspaperman -- shame on you." Jolie slid away to talk to more and more friends, people Caitlyn hadn't seen in years.

  "Matt is amazing," Jonathan told her, as he joined her at the back of the church. "He did what I couldn't do. He filled this church to the rafters. We may have a chance at saving it."

  "How did he do that?" Caitlyn asked.

  "Didn't you read the paper this morning?"

  "Okay, that's it. I'm going to get one right now."

  "You don't have to," Sarah said, sidling up with Emily. She handed Caitlyn the front page of the paper.

  Caitlyn was almost afraid to look, but she saw Matt watching her and knew that this was one paper she'd have to read.

  And there it was... down in the right-hand corner, where Matt usually wrote about politicians and corruption... a story about a church that needed saving, a community that needed to pull together. And at the bottom of the short article, in large bold print, were the words, "Will you marry me, Caitlyn? Because I love you, and if you read it here, you know it must be true."

  Her eyes blurred with tears of joy. A year and a half ago she'd thought her life was over, but now she realized it was the new beginning she'd needed. She'd come full circle, happier now than she'd ever been in her life.

  "Yes," she said, shouting across the crowded vestibule, as she waved the paper in her hand. "Yes, I'll marry you."

  Matt had her in his arms before the last word crossed her lips. "You won't be sorry, Caitlyn. I'll make you happy. I swear it."

  "I thought we were going to take things slow," she said with a teary smile.

  "I've been waiting my whole life for you. I don't want to wait another second. Do you?"

  "No, I'm sure. You know me better than I know myself."

  "I feel the same way. I won't try to fix you, Caitlyn. I won't even make you read the newspaper."

  "Now I know you love me."

  He cupped her face with his hands and looked deep into her eyes. "We'll make up the rest as we go along. Don't say it," he said, putting a finger against her lips. "If we decide to open our lives up to another small soul, we'll decide together how and when and all the rest. But the truth is, I don't need anyone else, Caitlyn. I found my other half in you."

  Her eyes welled up with tears. "That's the nicest thing anyone has ever said to me."

  "Hey, I'm just getting started. I've got a way with words, you know."

  "A way with me," she said. "And you're my other half, too, the half that is bold and filled with attitude. You make me want to spread my wings and fly."

  "And you make me want to put down some roots. We'll be good together, Caitlyn. We may not have the storybook ending." He smiled at her with love and joy in his eyes. "But we will have some kind of wonderful. I promise you that."

  Reader’s Guide

  If you enjoyed this book and would like to talk about it in your book club, I've enclosed some questions to hopefully inspire some great discussion! (Following the Reader's Guide are several excerpts from some of my other books.)

  1.Many of the characters in SOME KIND OF WONDERFUL grow up to be different from their parents. Caitlyn doesn't share her parents' academic natures. Jonathan doesn't have his father's gift for the pulpit. Matt is nothing like his crazy, wastrel mother and neither is Sarah.

  In what ways are you different from your parents and in what ways are your children different from you? Are there certain traits you do or don't want to share with your family members?

  2.Caitlyn can't image what kind of mother could abandon
her baby, and Caitlyn and Matt argue over Emily belongs with the mother who abandoned her. Even Sarah wonders whether she would be the better choice to raise Emily than Matt or someone else.

  Do you think Sarah did the right thing in leaving Emily with Matt? What would you have counseled Sarah to do or what would you have done in her place? Should Emily have been given back to Sarah?

  3.Pauline, the church secretary, says to Jonathan, "You can help a lot more people if you stay on top of the cliff throwing down ropes, rather than climbing down into a hole to save one soul and maybe never coming back." The church board considers shutting down the church because of low attendance although Jonathan argues that even saving one soul is worth the price.

  Do you think it's better to throw a lifeline to many or to personally help one person in need? Does either do more good? How have you helped someone? Have you ever helped someone at the expense of yourself? Is there a cost trade-off to be placed on saving a human soul?

  4.Caitlyn's fiancé Brian left her to pursue a job opportunity, which she encouraged him to take even though it took him across the country while she was recovering from an injury.

  Do you blame Brian for leaving Caitlyn? Do you think Caitlyn has a right to be angry at Brian given she told him it was okay to go? Have you ever told someone to do something you didn't want them to? Were you angry if they took you at your word? If so, why? Is this a justified reaction?

  5.Sarah's psychiatrist says, "Sometimes the monsters we create in our mind are far more powerful than the ones that actually exist." Matt and Sarah's mother was a very sick woman who didn't receive the help she needed for her problem, and the specter of her illness has left an unshakable impression on her children.

  What "monsters" from your childhood still affect you today? As an adult, do they seem more or less scary than they did to you as a child?

  I hope you all enjoyed SOME KIND OF WONDERFUL. If you would like to print out this Reader's Guide, please visit my website.

  RYAN'S RETURN

  Excerpt @ Copyright 2011 Barbara Freethy

  All Rights Reserved

  Chapter One

  His bed was on the sidewalk!

  Ryan Hunter slammed the door of the cab, tossed a twenty-dollar bill at the driver, and ran across the busy Los Angeles intersection, dodging cars and honking horns. As he reached the sidewalk, two men emerged from his three-story apartment building with a bookcase.

  "What the hell is going on here?" Ryan dropped his overnight bag on the ground, taking more care with his saxophone case and camera bag.

  The moving men set the bookcase down on the sidewalk. The younger man, who wore white coveralls with the name Craig embroidered on the pocket, grinned. "Oh, hi, Mr. Hunter. Your lady's moving out. Third one in a row, isn't that right?"

  "Yeah? Who's counting?" Ryan grumbled.

  The older man, Walt, reached into his pocket and pulled out a bill. "I do believe you're our best account, Mr. Hunter. Shall we put this on your tab?"

  Walt and Craig laughed in unison as they picked up the bookcase and set it in the truck.

  Ryan surveyed the furniture strewn around the sidewalk and the steps leading up to his apartment building with a weary sigh. He had spent the past thirty-six hours on three different planes, traveling through three different time zones. All he wanted to do was sleep -- in his own bed. Only his own bed was now in a moving van.

  The men loaded the easy chair next, the one perfect for stretching out with a beer. Behind the chair was the big-screen television.

  "Not the TV." Ryan groaned. He gave it a loving pat as the men walked by him.

  Craig laughed. "You don't have much left up there, Mr. Hunter, just that old sofa with the springs sticking out, a couple of crates, and a fan. Maybe instead of getting a new woman, you should buy yourself some furniture."

  "Thanks for the tip, Mack."

  "The name is Craig, and you're welcome."

  Ryan stalked up the steps. He met Melanie on the landing just inside the front door. She wore her usual aerobics gear, a pair of hot pink Lycra shorts, a midriff tank top, and tennis shoes. Her blond hair bounced around her head in a ponytail. She was the perfect southern California woman, tan and fit -- great body, great in bed, and great furniture. Sometimes life sucked.

  Melanie stopped abruptly, her bright pink lips curving downward in dismay.

  "Oh, dear," she said. "I thought I'd be gone before you got home."

  "Where are you going?" he demanded.

  "I'm moving out, Ryan."

  "That's obvious. Without saying good-bye, without offering a word of explanation?"

  "Ryan, honey, you've been gone seven weeks."

  "I was working."

  "You're always working."

  "Did you see my photographs from Israel?"

  "Yes, they were on the cover of Time. Very impressive. Excuse me, but I have to go."

  "Melanie, wait."

  She shook her head. "Ryan, we've been living together for three months, and you've only spent ten nights in that apartment with me."

  "It has to be more than that," Ryan said, truly surprised by the number.

  "It's not. I should know. I had plenty of time to count." Melanie sighed wistfully. "You're a great guy when you're around, but you don't love me."

  "I don't?"

  "Seven weeks, Ryan." She poked her fingertip into his chest. "No phone calls, no letter, not even a postcard."

  Melanie was right. She was a nice woman and fun to be with, but he didn't love her. He didn't love anyone. It was not an emotion that he wanted in his life. Love was too complicated, too messy.

  Ryan touched Melanie's cheek, feeling genuinely sad at her departure. "I'm sorry. I hope I didn't hurt you."

  "I'll live," she said with a regretful smile. "I just wish I knew what you were running from or running toward." She stood on tiptoe and kissed him on the lips. "Whatever it is, I hope someday you find it."

  Ryan watched her walk down the steps. The movers closed up the van, and within minutes a big part of his life disappeared -- again.

  He retrieved his bags and saxophone case from the sidewalk and walked slowly up the stairs to his apartment.

  The door stood halfway open. He walked inside and stared at the emptiness. His old sofa bed stood against one wall next to the lamp with the tilted, yellowed shade. The wooden crate with his antiquated record collection featuring jazz musicians Duke Ellington and Louis Armstrong, as well as an eclectic mix of rock and roll artists like Bruce Springsteen, Mick Jagger, and the Grateful Dead, spilled out onto the beige carpet.

  A card table had been opened up in one corner of the living room. On top of the table lay his mail, piles and piles of it. Ryan walked over to the table and spread the envelopes out so he could see what he had -- electric bills, telephone bills, and sales offers.

  Dismissing most of the mail as junk, Ryan's gaze came to rest on an ivory-colored oversize envelope with his name engraved on the top. The return address caught his attention. For twelve years he had hoped for a letter with that postmark. To get one now was unsettling.

  His hand shook as he reached for the card. He told himself not to be a fool, to throw it away. But he couldn't. Sliding open the seal with his finger, he pulled out the card.

  Serenity Springs invites you to attend its Centennial Celebration, February 20-23, a three-day festival of parties, games, and arts and crafts to celebrate 100 years of history. In tune with this theme, a special dinner will be held Thursday evening in honor of Serenity Springs' own Ryan Hunter, award-winning photojournalist.

  What the hell!

  Ryan picked up the accompanying letter. Ms. Kara Delaney, president of the Serenity Springs Chamber of Commerce, wanted him to be the guest of honor at their kickoff dinner. Because of his world-renowned photographs and reputation as a photojournalist, Serenity Springs considered him their hometown hero and hoped he would be able to participate in the festivities. Jesus! His father must be pissed. Either that or dead. Ryan couldn't
imagine Jonas Hunter allowing the town, Jonas's town, to honor his youngest son. And his brother, Andrew, was probably beside himself with jealous rage.

  Ryan shook his head as he read the letter again. There was no way he would go back to Serenity Springs, a small river town a hundred miles north of San Francisco. As a successful freelance photographer, he could choose his assignments. He didn't have to go anywhere he didn't want to go.

  Ryan tossed the invitation in the trash basket and pushed the button on the answering machine. Message after message came across. Two magazines wanted to send him on assignment, one to New York, the other to Hong Kong. His dry cleaning had been ready for three weeks, and he had just been named a finalist in the Holiday Travel Sweepstakes. Yeah, right.

  The last message was from Camilla Harper, a woman he had met on the plane from New York to L.A. She wanted to see him while she was in town.

  He didn't feel like calling her back. He was tired of the dating game, tired of women moving in and out of his life. Tired of long airplane flights, no furniture, and fast food. Most of all Ryan was tired of feeling so damned tired.

  He had a good life. He was thirty-three years old and had plenty of money, plenty of jobs, and plenty of hair. He smiled to himself as he ran a hand through his thick, dark brown hair. A few strands of gray maybe, but at least he wouldn't be going back to Serenity Springs as a balding, paunchy, overweight nothing. Not that he was going back.

  Walking into the kitchen, he opened the refrigerator. Melanie had cleaned him out there, too. The only things left were a jar of pickle relish, a carton of milk, and a bottle of Gatorade.

  Ryan closed the refrigerator door and returned to the living room. He sat down on the couch, wincing as one of the springs pinched his leg. He wanted to relax, soak up the silence. Only there wasn't silence. The couple next door had "Wheel of Fortune" blaring on the television set. The tenant upstairs was doing step aerobics, pounding the ceiling over his head with a relentless rhythm that matched the pounding in his head. And somewhere in the City of Angels a siren blared through the night.