The Mona Lucy

by Peggy Webb

  “That’s great. Dolly loves the stage.”

  “In Washington, D.C.”

  Taking a handful of chips, Lucy passed the bag to Kitty. “We need these.”

  The two of them sat cross-legged on the floor, passing the bag back and forth until it was empty.

  Vivid, erotic dreams and his own urgent need roused Matt from a deep sleep. “Sandi?” He reached across the bed and found it empty.

  Naked and throbbing, he crashed back against the pillows and closed his eyes. What kind of fool was he? Not only had he wallowed all night long with a woman he’d had no business touching in the first place, but he’d been about to do the same thing all over again.

  Groaning, Matt went into the bathroom and climbed into a shower so cold he got goose bumps. Shivering and scrubbing, he played mind games with himself.

  Why would she leave his bed?

  Fool. Why wouldn’t she?

  Was he that bad?

  Arrogant fool.

  After all he’d done, who could blame Sandi Wentworth if she sued him.

  Even thinking her name opened a floodgate of emotions so unfamiliar to Matt that he cut himself shaving. He stanched the flow of blood with toilet paper, then dressed quickly and strode toward the connecting door.

  His hand was already lifted to knock when he remembered the toilet paper. By the time he’d removed that badge of stupidity, he’d thought twice about what he was fixing to do.

  If he barged into her room and found her, there would be no way on heaven or earth he could prevent a repeat of last night’s sorry performance. Not sorry in terms of sex, but sorry in terms of his motives.

  What they’d done to and with and for each other had been phenomenal, magical, deserving of an award. But his reasons had been purely selfish and carnal.

  Now he understood the phrase “the devil made me do it”. It was man’s way of refusing to take responsibility for his own actions.

  Matt Coltrane was fixing to take responsibility. Right now. First he would find Sandi and apologize, then he would find his mother and tell her the game was over.

  Sandi was driving and talking on her cell phone while C.J. kept saying, “Sandi? Honey, where are you? I can hardly hear you.”

  “I’m…” In a panic, Sandi realized she didn’t even know where she was. “On the road.”

  “Where?”

  “I don’t know.”

  “Pull over. Sandi, honey, can you hear me? Pull over and stop somewhere until you quit crying. It’s dangerous to drive in your condition.”

  Her condition. Sandi pulled off at a mom-and-pop store with a sign that said Eat. What was her condition?

  “Sandi, did you pull over?”

  “Yes.”

  “Okay. Take some deep breaths. Good. Now tell me what’s wrong.”

  “I can’t. I don’t know. C.J., I need a place to stay for a few days and I don’t want to go to my empty house.”

  “Come on. I’ll get a supply of chocolate and popcorn.”

  “Clint won’t mind?”

  “Of course not. He’s the most wonderful man in the world.”

  No, he’s not. She’d just left the most wonderful man in the world asleep at O’Banyon Manor.

  But Sandi didn’t say so. Instead, she told C.J., “I’m on my way.”

  Chapter Nine

  “You look awful,” Lucy said.

  She lowered her sunglasses and studied her son over the top. The last thing he’d expected was to find his mother by the pool in a bikini.

  “Good God, Mother.”

  “Would you hand me the oil, dear? I think my belly’s beginning to burn.”

  “What are you doing?”

  “Sunbathing. What does it look like?” He handed her the oil then slumped into a lounge chair. “I figured this was as good a way as any to tell you I’m not dying.”

  “I know.”

  “You know?” He nodded. “When you and Josh were planning that dreadful funeral, you already knew, didn’t you?”

  “Yes.”

  “I don’t know whether to laugh or cry.”

  Matt stared out over the pool while Lucy rubbed oil on her legs.

  “I guess you know the rest of it, too?” she finally said.

  “About how you tried to set me up with Sandi?”

  “Oh, dear…what a terrible thing I’ve done to that lovely young woman.”

  You’re not the only one, Matt wanted to say. But he didn’t. He couldn’t bear to think about just how hurtful his actions toward Sandi had been. And he couldn’t even absolve himself with an apology.

  He’d looked all over the house and grounds. Instead of finding the woman he’d sought, he’d stumbled upon his mother.

  “Where is she?”

  “Gone,” Lucy said.

  “What do you mean, gone?”

  “She came early this morning to tell me that she was leaving.”

  “Leaving? She went into Shady Grove for the day?” Hopeful. That’s what he was. Foolishly hopeful.

  “No, dear, I’m afraid not. She came by to tell me she’d completed her sketching and didn’t have to be here to finish the portrait.”

  He’d scared her off. And no wonder. What he’d done last night was unforgivable. Heady, mind-boggling, remarkable and unforgivable.

  “Did she say where she was going?”

  “No.”

  Naturally she wouldn’t. It would be easy enough to find out where she lived. Without asking his mother. He would drive over and…

  What? He couldn’t seem to keep his hands off her, no matter how hard he tried.

  “She’ll be bringing the finished portrait back, I suppose.” He tried to sound offhand, like a man whose heart was not in his throat.

  “We didn’t get into that. I imagine she’ll call when it’s finished and we’ll go from there.”

  We’ll go from there.

  His mother and Sandi would, but what about him? What about Matt Coltrane who had sworn never to lose his heart? Where would he go now that Sandi Wentworth was under his skin and in his blood?

  “I suppose she’ll finish in a few days.” Still hopeful. His mother saw right through him.

  “You did fall in love with her.”

  “I don’t believe in love.”

  “Darling, sometime or other everybody believes in love.”

  Matt stood up. This was not a discussion he wanted to have. Not now. Not with his heart raw and his nerves jangled. What he needed was sleep. He would pack his bag and head back to Jackson where his law practice waited and his life made sense.

  “I have to be going, Mother.”

  “Matt, wait. There’s something I have to tell you.”

  He was not up to any more true confessions. “We’ve said all we need to say today.”

  “It’s about Sandi.”

  “What about her?”

  “She left a message for you. She said to tell you she was sorry.”

  “Anything else?”

  “No, that was all.”

  “You’re sure?”

  “Don’t frown, dear. It makes you look old.”

  “Mother!”

  “Yes, I’m positive. That’s all she said.” Lucy held out her hand. “Forgive me, Matt.”

  He bent down and kissed her cheek. “It’s okay, Mother. I needed a break anyway.”

  “You’re sure?”

  “Positive. No harm done.”

  He hoped he was telling the truth. He hoped he had not done irreparable damage to the heart, mind or soul of the loveliest woman he’d ever met. The kindest, most generous woman he ever hoped to meet. The woman whose parting message was I’m sorry.

  Sorry for what? Leaving? Staying too long? Sleeping with him? Not staying in his bed?

  He had to find out.

  On the long drive to Starkville, Sandi made up her mind that she wouldn’t spoil her visit with her best friend by whining and crying. How many times had she running crying to C.J. with dashed hopes and romance gone aw
ry?

  “Too many,” she said, talking to herself. It was time to grow up, shape up, face her problems like a grown woman.

  Sandi pulled over at a gas station, filled up, washed her face and bought a chocolate bar for comfort. On the road again, she did some serious thinking. The bottom line was that once again she had reached out like a starved child to a man who didn’t want her. She had to quit that. She had to love her life, love herself and let some worthy man reach out to her.

  But who? Who would seek out a woman her own mother couldn’t love?

  Certainly not Matt Coltrane. And he was the only man who counted, the only one she wanted.

  Funny how you can go for years believing you know all about love, and then the real thing comes along and knocks you off your feet.

  Well, she wasn’t about to just lie there with her heart aching and her ego bruised. She was going to get up, brush herself off and get on with her life. She was going to quit attaching herself to other people’s families and start a family of her own.

  But not with a man. She was through with that, too. She was through searching for a man with father potential, when the world was filled with homeless babies just waiting for someone to love.

  She would adopt. Single mothers did it all the time. She would go to China if necessary. Though she wasn’t wealthy by any stretch of the imagination, she had the rest of her inheritance from her father. Somehow it seemed appropriate that the only family member who had ever loved her should be the means of giving her a family of her own.

  She couldn’t wait to tell C.J. the good news.

  Sandi was not home. Either that, or she’d seen his car and wasn’t coming to the door. Still, Matt stood on the empty front porch for five minutes knocking and calling her name. He hadn’t earned the nickname Bulldog Coltrane for nothing.

  He even went around to the back, never mind that somebody might mistake him for a burglar and call the police. The house was locked tight, no light showing underneath the windowsills, no sounds drifting out into the early evening.

  Through the hedge he saw the little yellow cottage next door ablaze with lights. Neighbors that close would surely know her. They might even know where she was.

  Matt took a shortcut through the hedge and was about to knock on the door, when he saw a sight that gave him pause—a woman dancing near-naked with a man wearing nothing but a top hat. As they twirled, the red scarves she held flew every which way and laughter drifted onto the front porch.

  As Matt was backing off the front porch, he realized it was the couple who had been married by his mother’s swimming pool. Sam Maxey and Ellie Jones.

  Wouldn’t you know?

  But wait…wasn’t it Sam’s first wife, Phoebe, who had been like a mother to Sandi? It was his mother who’d told him. He’d been furious with her at the time, certain he already knew everything he needed to know about Sandi Wentworth, but now he vowed he would send his mother roses.

  Sneaking like a thief in the night, he left the front porch, went back through the hedge, climbed into his car, then drove next door. He parked under Sam Maxey’s magnolia tree and made a big to-do of slamming the car door and banging up the front-porch steps. All in slow motion.

  Sam came to the door with his shirt buttoned wrong and no shoes. Ellie stood behind him in a robe with red scarves dripping out of the pockets.

  “Why, it’s Matt Coltrane.” Ellie turned to her husband. “Darling, you remember Lucy’s son?”

  “Yes.” Sam opened the door wide. “Won’t you come in?”

  “I’m sorry to barge in like this without calling, but I was looking for Sandi Wentworth.”

  “Oh, yes, Sandi,” Sam said, beaming. “A lovely girl.”

  “Do you know where she is?”

  Sam rubbed his chin. “We thought she was over at O’Banyon Manor.”

  Matt felt like a fool, an all-too-familiar state for him lately. If he didn’t resolve this problem with Sandi soon, he might as well pull in his shingle and take up a job that required a lot of sweat and no brain.

  “She left this morning,” he said, “and she’s not at home.”

  He was beginning to lose hope for his mission, then Ellie said, “She’s probably at C.J.’s.”

  After he got the address, Matt struck out for Starkville like a teenager, without regard to time or planning. He was a man on a mission.

  “Sweetheart, are you expecting anyone?” C.J. called toward the kitchen, and when her husband said, “No,” Sandi got off the sofa as if she’d been pulled by strings and went to the front window.

  Matt Coltrane was parked outside the small apartment, as big as life and twice as enticing. Her heart flew to her throat and her hand pressed there, hoping to keep it trapped inside.

  C.J. came up behind her. “Sandi, what’s the matter?”

  “Do you want to see him?”

  “No. Yes. I don’t know.”

  “Make up your mind, quick. He’s coming up the sidewalk. I’ll get rid of him if you want me to.”

  “No, let him in. I’ve never run from anybody and I don’t intend to start now.” She smoothed her wrinkled shorts, wishing she’d changed out of her traveling clothes. She hadn’t even combed her hair. It was flying every which way and she wasn’t wearing a bit of lipstick. Not that it mattered. Why should it?

  Matt Coltrane was nothing to her except the man she’d loved before she decided to quit giving her heart to men who didn’t love her back. After a while a girl learns from unrequited love, if she’ll let herself.

  “All right then,” C.J. said. “I’ll let him in. You don’t have to be in this room when he comes if you don’t want to.”

  “Well, I’ll just…” Sandi’s mind turned in circles.

  “Go.” C.J. gave her a little push toward the bathroom. “I’ll let him in, then Clint and I will vanish.”

  “You don’t have to.”

  Just then, Clint stuck his head around the kitchen door. “I want to take my wife for walk in the moonlight so we can smooch.”

  The bell pinged through the apartment, making Sandi jump.

  “Scoot.” C.J. gave her the sign for victory, then opened the door to the one man in the world Sandi didn’t want to see, the one man in the world she most wanted to see.

  She leaned against the bathroom door, her eyes closed and her heart racing. What would she do when she saw him? What would she say?

  Images of last night obscured everything else, and all she could think of was how he’d looked in the moonlight bending over her, smiling.

  She heard his voice and it was like new wine in her veins, rich and heady. Drunk on the sound, she clamped her mouth against the moan that would give her away.

  “I hate to barge in like this…”

  Oh, she didn’t hate it. She loved it. Loved that he’d cared enough to find out where she was, to follow her, to pound on the door of people who were virtual strangers to him. Could it mean that he cared? Did it mean that Matt Coltrane wasn’t as immune to love as he professed?

  Sandi forgot combs and lipstick and anything else that would keep her apart from this wonderful man any longer. She left her hiding place wearing wrinkled shorts and a smile.

  “Matt, what brings you here?”

  “Sandi…” That smile. That beautiful smile. She read a thousand things into it and every one of them wonderful. “I came to see you.”

  “Won’t you sit down?”

  She sat on the sofa and he sat on a blue chair across the room. Where was C.J.? Why wasn’t she taking up space in the blue chair, forcing Matt to sit beside Sandi on the sofa?

  She glanced around for her vanished friend, suddenly wishing she’d asked her to stay, suddenly wanting an ally, a buffer, anyone, anything to stand between her and the man whose face had changed from soft to forbidding.

  “You left without saying goodbye.”

  She imagined him in a courtroom intimidating opponents with that same stern look. Well, she wasn’t about to be intimidated.


  “Yes. It was time to go.”

  “Because of me?”

  “Yes.”

  Well, there, she’d said it. The truth. She was too old for word games. Hated them, as a matter of fact. She was in this mess because of a silly game. Wouldn’t the world be a better place if everybody just stopped pretending and said what they meant?

  In a nice way, of course. In Sandi’s book, there was no need to be unkind. Ever.

  “I’m sorry,” he said. “I didn’t mean to hurt you, and I certainly didn’t mean to scare you off.”

  “I didn’t leave because I’m scared of you.”

  “Why, then?”

  “I’m scared of me, of my own feelings.”

  Ask what they are. She sent him the silent message over and over, but he didn’t hear. Or maybe he heard and chose to ignore it.

  Sandi didn’t press the issue. She would never speak of love until she believed there was at least a ghost of a chance that he was ready to hear.

  “I see,” he said, but of course, he didn’t. She could tell by the puzzled look on his face.

  They studied each other until the silence between them became unbearable.

  “Can I get you something to drink?” she said. “Tea? Lemonade?”

  “No, thank you. I have to be going.”

  “Oh…”

  She knew how she sounded…like a little girl who has lost her favorite doll. She wished she were a better actress. She wished she could usher him out with the grace and style of a woman who, if she’s not secure in the bosom of a loving family, is at least secure in her own company.

  “Before I go…”

  “Yes?”

  Hope is a glorious thing, like a bird out of mating season who sings for no reason at all.

  “Sandi, I want you to know that if there are any unforeseen developments from our being together—”

  “Unforeseen developments!”

  “Yes. If you should become pregnant, I will assume full financial responsibility.”

  Too enraged to speak, she glared at him as if he’d grown two heads. He had the grace to look uncomfortable.

  “I should have thought of this earlier,” he said.