by Teresa Hill
Mary let out a long, slow breath. “Maybe I should drive down there tonight.”
That would work. Especially if it meant Cathie didn’t end up in his arms again. That had been sheer impulse, one that came from his time with the Baldwins. They were a family of touchers. Bear hugs. Kisses. Arms around each other’s shoulders. It was as natural to them as it was for Matt to hold himself apart from everyone. They seemed to have latched on to him in a way he just didn’t understand, and they’d never truly let go. They’d take care of Cathie now.
Still, she’d asked for his help, and he’d promised to try to stall.
“Mary, it’s late,” he reasoned. “Cathie said she’d call you tomorrow, and I told her if she needs anything from me, all she has to do is call.”
“Thank you, dear. If she had to be so far away from home, I feel better knowing you’re close by.”
Not close enough, he thought, feeling guilty that he’d kept his distance while some jerk was taking advantage of her. “She’s special, Mary.”
“I know, dear. She’s a wonderful girl, and I’m very proud of her. Still, I can’t help but worry. She’s always been too trusting for her own good.”
“Yes, she is.” That had to be the problem. She’d trusted the wrong man.
“Matt, we miss you, too. Christmas is coming. All the boys are going to be home this year, and we’d love to have you. And don’t tell me you’re too busy. You have to take some time off every now and then.”
Matt shook his head. No surprise here that Mary would go from mothering Cathie to trying to mother him. No one had ever really done that for him, except Mary. His own mother and father had gotten together when they were far too young, a quick, stormy relationship that had burned out long before Matt had come along. His father liked to go out and have a good time. He drank too much and got into arguments he tended to settle with his fists, or something worse. His mother drank to forget everything, including Matt. He’d been more of a hassle to her than anything else. By the time he was eight, he was roaming the streets, taking care of himself. By the time he was thirteen, he was living on those same streets after his mother kicked him out.
Not that any of that mattered anymore.
“I am planning some time away from the office,” he admitted. Honestly, he couldn’t remember where he decided to go. He recalled pointing to something from an array of brochures and leaving the details to his travel agent.
“Christmas is a time for family,” Mary argued. “Promise me you’ll think about coming here?”
“All right.” He’d think about it. He just wouldn’t go.
“You can’t run from us forever. Sooner or later you’re going to come home.”
“Mary—” he began.
“I’ll be waiting for your call. Bye, Matt.”
With that, she was gone, still able to outmaneuver him as neatly as always. He remembered standing in her kitchen his first morning there, cussing like a sailor, thinking to shock her, to make her turn her back on him, as everyone else had.
He soon learned that Mary didn’t shock easily, and she didn’t get flustered, no matter how filthy his language was. She’d used the same tone with him fifteen years ago, kindhearted, a bit bossy, but polite, as if he’d shown her the same courtesy she showed him. Then she’d smiled and proceeded to steamroll right over him, quietly making her wishes known, until somehow he’d decided he’d be better off doing what she suggested in the first place.
If that tactic didn’t work, shame did. She could make him feel like dirt without so much as lifting a finger. It was all in her eyes and the tone of her voice. No matter what he did wrong, she’d find out eventually. And she’d be hurt, as if she’d somehow failed him and not the other way around. She’d look at him and he could all but hear the words going through her head. What am I going to do with you, Matt? What have I done wrong that I can’t reach you?
Before long, she’d become his conscience. Even if he didn’t care what happened to himself, Mary did. Matt didn’t want to disappoint her. It became a litmus test for him. If I do this, what’s Mary going to think? What’s she going to say?
For the first time, he stopped to think before he shot off his mouth or let fly with his fists. With Mary on one side of him and Cathie on the other, he hadn’t stood a chance. Before they were done, he’d taken a long, hard look at himself and his life, figured out that there comes a time when it doesn’t really matter how screwed up anyone’s parents were. Maybe the world had dealt him a lousy hand, but lots of kids grew up without anyone who gave a damn about them. In the end, it was what he chose to do with his life that counted. Once he realized that, Matt had done surprisingly well for himself. He had a gift for numbers, something Cathie’s father had picked up on right away, and they’d no doubt called in some favors to get him admitted to the university here and to help get him a scholarship.
He had more money than he knew what to do with now, a company of his own that specialized in providing security for financial transactions over the Internet, a huge house, a car that positively reeked of money. He worked hard, and played just as hard when the notion struck him, which it seldom did.
He still couldn’t lie to himself well enough to say he was happy. It had all failed to satisfy him for some reason.
Matt eased back into the soft leather seat of his car and stared into the night.
As always, when he arrived at home, the place was dark and silent. He didn’t really want to go inside, which was ridiculous given what he’d paid for the place. It was too big for him and had never felt like a home. Tonight, it seemed worse than usual. Because his mind was on another house, an old one in the mountains, crammed to the rafters with people and laughter. With a sense of permanence. Of family.
Matt still remembered how it felt, living in the midst of the Baldwin clan. Their house had never been quiet or empty.
Shoving the memories aside, he pulled the car into the garage and walked into the kitchen, losing his keys, his wallet and his tie as he went. Upstairs in his bedroom, he kicked off his shoes and started working on the buttons of his shirt, the eerie quiet getting louder and louder with every passing minute.
Maybe what he needed was a woman. Someone to come home to, to fill the empty rooms and chase away the silence.
Glancing across the room at the big, wide bed, he imagined her waiting there for him on the nights when he came home really late. She’d have pillows propped against the headboard, one small light burning on the bedside table, a book in her lap.
Her hair would be long and loose, the light from the lamp glinting off of it. In his mind’s eye, he could see it so clearly, the image as enticing as any dream he’d ever had.
The woman lifted her head, smiled at him and held out her arms to him.
Cathie, he realized.
He was thinking of Cathie in his bed.
Matt knew what he had to do. He had to help her and then forget about her. He sure wasn’t letting her anywhere near his bed, even in his imagination.
There had to be a way to help.
It turned out to be so simple, he couldn’t believe it took him so long.
Money.
He had plenty, and she didn’t. She’d have doctor bills, tuition, child care, rent, utilities, diapers, all kinds of stuff. He wanted her out of that lousy neighborhood, too. Matt could do all that. She wouldn’t like it, but he simply wouldn’t take no for an answer this time. If her father hadn’t refused his help when Jim Baldwin had been so ill, Cathie would have finished college by now and maybe even been married. A baby wouldn’t have been a problem.
Matt was back on her doorstep shortly after eight the next morning, telling himself money was the answer. It was easy, too. He could write a check. He wouldn’t even have to see her again. Money. He was excited for the first time in years that he had so much of it.
Cathie opened the door wearing a pair of pale yellow, cottony pajamas. “Hi.”
She looked soft and rumpled, cold and dangerously
touchable. Her hair was loose and falling around her shoulders, her eyes puffy and red and sad, and it seemed she’d come straight from her bed. He stared. She folded her arms across her breasts, as if to hide herself as best she could. He really had to stop thinking about her this way.
“When I heard the knock, I was sure my mother was here,” she said, stepping back to let him inside.
“I stalled as best I could, but it’s not going to work for long.”
“So, she’s on her way? Or is she waiting for you to report back to her?”
“She’s supposed to wait for you to call, but you know your mother.”
Matt wanted to know what her boyfriend said when she’d told him the news, wanted to know if she’d come to any decisions. But she looked like a stiff breeze could knock her over this morning, and he didn’t want to push.
“Have you had anything to eat?”
“No,” she admitted, wrapping herself up in a sweater that was thrown over the back of the sofa.
Good, he thought. Cover up.
“We could go get some breakfast,” he suggested. Get out of this apartment. Go somewhere they wouldn’t be alone.
“Matt, you don’t have to do this,” she said, a hurt look in her eyes that always managed to cut him to pieces. “I mean, I know my mother harasses you until you show up here.”
“She has. But she’s not the reason I’m here right now.”
Cathie frowned. He thought they were probably going to argue some more about his motives, when all he wanted was to keep her from kicking him out and to find out what that idiot who’d gotten her pregnant had said.
“Come on. I’m here. I’m hungry. You’re awake now. You’ve got to eat. I could cook something while you grab a shower and get dressed.”
Please, he thought, seeing bare feet and delicate pink-tinted toenails, get dressed.
She didn’t move. He could hear the faint sound of her breathing. Finally, she said, “You don’t even like me anymore.”
“Cathie.” He closed his eyes, simply unable to take the hurt he saw in her face. “I have never disliked you. Never even come close.”
Tears were glistening in her eyes the next time he looked up, and he wasn’t sure she believed him. “You thought I was a pest. You always did.”
“You were a pest.” He laughed, couldn’t hold it in. The memories were too strong. “You absolutely baffled me. Why in the world would a little girl like you give a damn about me? If you had any sense at all, you would have been scared of me and stayed away. Hell, if your whole family had any sense, they would have never let me inside your house.”
“You didn’t turn out so bad,” she said softly.
“Neither did you, Cath. Honestly, I never disliked you. Can you trust me about that, at least?” She considered him warily from across the room. “Humor me, okay? Get dressed. Let me feed you. Then, if you still want me out of here, I’ll go.”
“Promise?”
He frowned. “Do I have to promise?”
“Matt!”
“Okay.” That was a lie. He felt absolutely no guilt in telling it, not now that she needed him. It had always been her and her family doing so much for him, and him thinking he had nothing to give them in return.
Not that he’d ever have wished a situation like this on her. But still, the situation was what it was. She needed help, and he could give it to her.
“I know it’s hard,” he said. “To be in trouble and let someone help you. I’ve always wondered—why’d you do that for me? Why didn’t you give up on me and leave me alone?”
“I just couldn’t.”
He nodded, understanding exactly. “Do me a favor, Cath. Don’t make it as hard for me to help you as I made it for you to help me.”
She was quiet for a long time. It left him feeling edgy, like he might just do something crazy before he got out of here. She’d always made him a little crazy.
“Why did you come here this morning?” she asked finally.
Neatly trapped and unwilling to lie about this, he confessed. “I came to offer you money.”
She looked hurt. “It’s not that simple.”
“I know.” Too late, he saw that writing a check just wasn’t going to cut it.
Chapter Three
Cathie hid in her bathroom for what had to be the longest shower on record, finally emerging in a cloud of steam. In her tiny bedroom, she tugged on a pair of jeans and a white blouse. While she was buttoning her blouse, she found herself staring at the Box, which now sat on her dresser.
What is he doing here?
She’d slept with her arms wrapped around that Box, filled with so many little slips of paper with his name on them. Maybe someone had gotten confused again. Cathie’s handwriting had always been atrocious. Maybe she had a guardian angel who needed glasses or something.
The Matt notes are old notes. I don’t worry about him that much anymore. I try not to even think about him.
The Box remained stoically silent, reverently housing all her secret hopes and dreams, including one, new, desperate plea she’d written that morning, right before he’d shown up, again.
I asked for help. Not him. He’s fine now. Okay, maybe not fine. I’m afraid he’s lonely, and that he’ll never really let anyone love him. But he’s not miserable. He always wanted money and a nice house of his own. I know all that really means to him is a sense of security, which he never had before, but he’s got all that now.
Of course, she didn’t think those things made a person particularly happy. They would help her, in the shape she was in, but she didn’t think happiness was found in a big bank account and a nice house. Matt loved his work. She knew he was well-respected and keenly intelligent, and having people recognize those things meant something to him. If she ever asked for anything else for Matt, it would be that he let down his guard enough to let someone love him, but she wasn’t sure if he had it in him to love someone back. He’d always held himself apart from everyone else. Those were walls she feared would never come down.
She glanced back at the box, because there wasn’t anyone else to talk to at the moment. What do I do now?
If she’d expected a lightning bolt or a booming voice coming out of nowhere, it didn’t happen.
She just kept getting Matt at her door.
She supposed she had to go out there and let him make whatever offer he wanted, while she tried not to argue. He was right—he had made it terribly hard for her to help him, fighting all the way and nearly frustrating her to death. So, she would try not to do that to him. She’d try to just take what he offered, if her pride would let her.
Cathie found him in the kitchen wielding a knife covered with peanut butter. He’d made toast with peanut butter and jam.
“Wasn’t much to choose from,” he said. “And I knew you liked this.”
She’d made it for him ages ago. It had been one of her favorite treats as a child, and it sounded pretty good to her now. Bland, but filling.
“Thanks,” she said, having learned the hard way that she did not want to let her stomach stay empty for long, even if she didn’t feel like eating.
She sat down and nibbled gingerly. Matt sat and watched her.
“Better?” he asked, when she pushed her plate away.
“Yes.”
“So, you saw the guy?”
“Talked to him. He’s, uh…away for the weekend.” That’s what she’d believed. She’d never even doubted it. Was he such a good liar? Or was she just a fool? “Let’s just say I can’t believe I was that stupid.”
“Oh, Cathie. I’m sorry. He’s an ass. Lots of men are.”
She nodded, still having trouble believing how wrong she was. “He seemed so charming, and he was good-looking and all grown-up and sounded so sincere, and I fell for it completely. I believed everything he said, and he didn’t mean any of it.”
“And the baby? Is this boy—”
“He’s not a boy, Matt. He’s a grown man. One of my professors, actually.
”
He swore roundly.
“It gets worse.” Cathie turned away, as angry at herself as she was at Tim. “He’s, uh…he’s married. I didn’t know. I swear. I never would have had anything to do with him, if I’d known. I guess they’ve been having some problems and were separated. Or maybe that was a lie, too. I don’t know. It doesn’t matter, anyway. She’s been away, but she’s back now and wants to get back together. He offered me money, Matt. To have an abortion. I couldn’t do that.”
“Okay. Forget about him. The guy doesn’t deserve you or your baby.”
“I know.”
None of which changed the fact that she was going to have the man’s baby.
Cathie cleared the table and started cleaning the tiny kitchen, just to have something to do. It was so horrible. She was so ashamed.
“So, what are you going to do?” Matt asked finally, when she couldn’t find anything else to do to keep her from facing him.
“Have a baby, I guess.”
“And then what, Cathie?”
“I don’t know.”
A part of her wanted to run home to her mother and father, but she was about to become a mother herself. Surely that meant she couldn’t go running home to her own mom and dad, expecting them to fix everything.
“I’m really worried about my father,” she admitted. “He’s had a lot of medical tests lately, and no one’s saying why. But I know that means something’s up. With transplants, there are so many things that can go wrong, even after all this time. We’re not supposed to worry him, and he’s going to be so worried. I love him so much, and I’m afraid of what this might do to him, Matt.”
“Yeah, he’s going to worry. What about school? How much do you have left?”
“Year and a half. If I’m lucky, I might make it through spring semester, which would only leave a year, but still…” A whole year left, with a brand-new baby. “I think I really should consider giving this baby up for adoption.”
