Man of Her Dreams

by Patt Marr

  She looked up at him expectantly.

  “Limo. My girl deserves the best.”

  She frowned again, and he pulled her paper over to see what she’d written. Ha! Another match. This was working out very well.

  “Lucky guess,” she said. “Next is ‘favorite music preference.’”

  He knew they both had praise-and-worship CDs in their cars, but he’d heard her playing romantic ballads. Chick songs weren’t his favorite, but he knew them well enough. He might forget to buy basics like milk and bread, but once he heard something, even a chick song, it stayed in his head. He answered with a couple of popular titles.

  “I can’t believe it,” she said, staring at her paper. “You do not like those songs.”

  “Do, too. I think you’re reading my mind,” he said, pretending offense.

  “I am not. But if you’re a match on this next one, you might have Mr. Right potential.”

  Great! He always played well under pressure. “What’s the category?”

  “‘Describe your favorite dream date, start to finish.’”

  He’d always hated essay questions. What would she say? Shopping…most women loved to shop. He’d start with that, then go with the Mexican food. Then they could take a drive down to Big Sur in that limo. Since he wouldn’t have to concentrate on driving, it would be a perfect time to discuss important things…like the date of their wedding and how many children she wanted to have.

  “What’s your answer, Mr. Right?” she asked, grinning like she knew she’d won this round.

  “No, you first this time.”

  “No way. You’ll cheat and copy my answers.”

  “I promise not to.” They weren’t going to match on this, but he would remember what she said. She’d have her dream date with him, down to the last detail.

  “My dream date would start in church,” she said, “so we could worship together. Are you with me?”

  He’d like to be. He nodded, loving her so.

  “After church, we would take a boat to Catalina.”

  Oh, not so good. He got seasick before a boat left the wharf, and the pills to prevent it put him to sleep.

  “My date and I would stroll past the little shops, but we wouldn’t actually shop since I hate to shop.”

  He didn’t know that. A woman who didn’t like to shop? Talk about a gift. Meg was a jewel.

  “We’d eat ice-cream cones, and later we’d have dinner at a beachfront restaurant.”

  He could do that, once he was over being seasick.

  “We would listen to the waves, watch the stars and take the last boat back.”

  “Sounds like a great date,” he said, imagining it all, right down to the image of himself at the rail, seasick once more.

  “I would love that,” she said with a dreamy expression.

  “Better take a jacket,” he said for want of anything better to say. “It gets chilly on the water, especially at night.”

  She laughed softly. “How funny. Ry, you sound just like somebody’s mother.”

  He’d been called many things since he discovered girls. A charmer, a cheat, a two-timer and, one time, a skunk. But never somebody’s mother.

  Meg fastened her seat belt in Ry’s SUV and wondered if she’d just given herself away. It wasn’t easy to disguise how thrilled she’d been to have Ry suggest he might be Mr. Right. Of course, he was teasing, but it was pretty remarkable that he would even tease about that.

  Could he see the two of them together? Could he be ready to settle down? It wasn’t likely. She would have to be very careful. If he thought she took that seriously, he could disappear from her life like early-morning dew under the hot California sun.

  She didn’t want that—for either of their sakes. He needed her, both as a Christian friend and as an ally against his family. And she needed him because…

  She couldn’t name it, but she just did, for now at least. It would go away when she met somebody wonderful, someone who was clearly Mr. Right instead of Mr. Right Now.

  Even though Ry had not liked it, she was glad that she’d pushed him to go on Dream Date. She’d given him a clear signal that he didn’t have to hang around with her all the time just because they were old friends and new neighbors. It was up to him. He could go back to his old habit of dating a different woman every day anytime he wanted.

  Liar. Big fat liar. The butterfly troop stomped on her stomach with heavy lead feet. And they were right. She loved being with Ry, and she would hate it when he moved on.

  She glanced over at him behind the wheel of his SUV, trying to gauge his mood. “Where are we going?” she asked as he exited the freeway.

  “It’s a surprise,” he said in that drawl she loved, giving her a glimpse of his deep-dimpled smile.

  She wasn’t all that keen on surprises, but she did love that smile. What did it matter where they went as long as they were together?

  He pulled into a new upscale shopping mall, one that she hadn’t visited before, not that she shopped anywhere often. This one had the lush look of a desert oasis. He parked in front of a huge store for children and babies.

  “I know you said you don’t like to shop, but I was here the other day on a call,” he said, putting the car keys in his jeans pocket. “It’s a nice store. I thought we might get something for baby Meggy and Shay.”

  How sweet that he would think of her precious niece and nephew. Her heart swelled. Could her crush on him get any bigger? This was definitely worse than when they were kids.

  “Shall we go in?”

  Meg was ready to follow him anywhere.

  They got out, and he took her hand. “I don’t want to lose you,” he said lightly. The way he held her hand, there wasn’t a chance.

  As long as they had known each other, Meg couldn’t remember them holding hands like this. It felt as if they were a couple, two people who belonged to each other, spending an evening, happy together.

  Such a mixture of contentment, elation and pride filled her mind that she couldn’t stop smiling. Here she was, walking beside this gorgeous guy, a guy who wanted to buy presents for Shay and Meggy, a guy who loved the Lord, a guy who hinted that he might see a future for the two of them. He could be Mr. Right. In his khaki sweater and blue jeans, he looked rugged and all man. Her man, if only for now.

  Inside the store, an awesome display of luxurious cribs stopped Meg in her tracks. “Wow,” she murmured. “Isn’t this great?”

  When Ry didn’t answer, she followed his gaze. Her most unfavorite couple, Trey and Isabel, were coming their way, laden with boxes and shopping bags, or at least Trey was. It looked as if it was all Isabel could do to carry her little purse and the baby inside her. The poor girl walked on puffy feet with that soon-to-deliver sideways sway.

  “It looks as if we’ve come along at the right time,” Ry said with a smile for Isabel. He took part of Trey’s load, but kept a free hand to steady Isabel.

  Isabel looked at him gratefully, though she seemed too miserable to summon up a smile.

  “I bet you’d like to get off your feet,” Meg said, motioning toward a bench just inside the door. “It looks like you’ve bought out the store.”

  “Blame that on Izzie,” Trey grumbled. “I don’t know why she waited until the baby’s due date to shop. After all the things Mom bought and all the baby shower gifts she received, I don’t know why we had to shop at all.”

  “But I wanted you to help pick out things for the baby’s room,” Isabel said, her lip quivering. “And you never had time. All you ever do is work.”

  Meg could believe that. Poor Isabel.

  “Don’t put this on me,” Trey said hatefully. “You’re the decorator. You do your job, and I’ll do mine.”

  Anger spiked through Meg’s body. How could a man talk to the mother of his baby that way? Couldn’t he see how miserable she was? Ry wanted to win Trey to the Lord, but Meg wanted something far different—something like slow, painful torture. Childbirth ought to be about right.<
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  Isabel sank heavily onto the bench.

  “Turn sideways, hon, and put your feet up,” Ry said, putting the packages down to help her get settled.

  “She’s all right,” Trey complained. “Come on, Izzie. I’m going home.” He headed for the door.

  Meg could not believe this guy. The least he could do was bring the car to the door for his wife.

  “Trey, wait,” Ry said. “Isabel, are you in labor?”

  “I don’t think so.” A tear streaked down her cheek. “But I do feel terrible. I’ve had a backache all day.”

  “What do you think, Trey?” Ry said, deferring to his brother. “You’re the doctor.”

  “I’m the neurologist,” Trey said nastily. “Izzie can see her ob-gyn tomorrow.”

  “Trey…” Ry’s calm voice had a warning tone. “You might want to take another look here.”

  “The day I take the advice of a paramedic is the day—”

  Trey stopped midsentence, for he had indeed taken another look. Meg followed his startled stare.

  Isabel’s face crumpled, and she started to cry. Her water had broken.

  Ry scooped her up in his arms. “It’s going to be fine, hon. You’re all right. Where’s your car, Trey?”

  Trey looked shaken. “Uh, why don’t we call an ambulance?”

  “We can do that,” Ry said calmly, “but while we’re waiting, Isabel will be more comfortable in the privacy of your car.”

  “Let’s, uh, wait for the ambulance. Why mess up my upholstery?”

  Meg could not believe it. Was there nothing noble about Trey Brennan? No kindness? No sense of decency?

  “I’ll take her to my car,” Ry said calmly. “Meg, call 911.”

  “I can call 911 myself,” Trey whined. “I don’t need your help.”

  “No, but your wife does,” Meg said with disgust, brushing past him to hold the door open for Ry. She already had her cell phone out and the emergency number punched in.

  “You handle the packages, Trey,” Ry said. “We’ll take care of Isabel.”

  “Put my wife down!” Trey’s face contorted angrily.

  Isabel clung to Ry and sobbed.

  Meg wanted to cry herself, she felt so sorry for Isabel. This little family really needed to know the Lord, or none of them would know a happy life.

  Chapter Eleven

  Isabel’s baby boy arrived just after dawn. Little J.T., as his parents were calling him—the birth certificate said James Thomas Brennan IV—weighed six pounds, six ounces and had dark hair like his mommy. Meg hoped that J.T. would grow up to be just like her. Isabel had shown a lot of character during the birth, and Meg decided she liked her after all.

  Trey, however, was still as unlikeable as ever. His behavior during Isabel’s labor had been a disgrace. The way he kept disappearing, it had been a good thing that Meg and Ry had been there for Isabel. Especially Ry.

  Ry had been nothing short of wonderful. He might not be a doctor like the rest of the Brennans, but he was the Brennan Meg would want to have with her if she ever went through this ordeal.

  But now Trey, the big phony, stood in the nursery hallway with his parents, acting as if he’d been the one to go through labor. It made Meg sick.

  Dr. Brennan got a good look at his grandson, then wandered off to see Isabel, which made Meg think better of him. But Deborah Brennan gushed over Trey, thanking him for this first grandchild, until Meg wanted to say, “Save that gratitude for Isabel. She’s the one who deserves it!”

  “Congratulations, Grandma,” Ry said gently, touching his mother’s shoulder.

  Wasn’t that just like Ry, trying again to build a bridge from their awful past to a happier future?

  But his mother flinched at Ry’s touch as if she’d been stung by a bee.

  White-hot anger seared Meg’s mind. How could Deborah do that? Was she mentally ill or just plain mean? Meg slid her arm around Ry’s waist, praying that he would know he wasn’t alone.

  Ry drew her close, so close she could feel his body tremble. If she hadn’t felt that, she might have given her prayer a chance to work. Instead, she went for a gibe that would put Deborah Brennan in her place.

  “Ry, maybe your mother doesn’t want to be called ‘Grandma.’ She doesn’t really look like a ‘Grandma’ to me.”

  Deborah looked pleased. “Yes, I prefer ‘Grandmother’ or even ‘Gran,’” she said imperially.

  “‘Gran,’” Meg repeated, gleeful that Deborah had given her something to work with. “That’s good, but how about ‘Granny’? My grandmother loved to be called Granny Sue.”

  Meg almost laughed at the way the regal Deborah recoiled.

  Meg leaned toward the nursery window and tapped lightly. “Hey, J.T., meet Granny Debbie.”

  Granny Debbie shot Meg a truly nasty look.

  Meg didn’t care, not at the moment.

  Ry squeezed her shoulder and bit back a smile. She saw it. His mother did, too. Rage glittered in her eyes as she dismissed them with an offended sniff and marched down the hall. Trey trailed behind her like a whipped dog.

  Ry gave Meg a rueful smile. “I don’t think Granny Debbie’s very happy with us.”

  She smiled up at him. “But we’re used to that. Ry Brennan, you are the best, and don’t forget it.”

  His mouth tilted, discounting the claim, but he leaned down and placed a kiss on her forehead. Longing to show Ry that he was a man worth loving, she rested her head on his chest and wrapped her arms around him. He cuddled her close as if she had made a good choice.

  “Hey, you two.” Beth came toward them, wearing scrubs and a stethoscope around her neck.

  Last night Trey had directed the ambulance to Cedar Hills Memorial where the Brennans were known and where Beth worked, too. She’d popped in on them during the night.

  “How’s it going?” she asked.

  “The baby’s great,” Ry replied with a tired but satisfied smile. “Isabel’s fine, Mom’s happy, Dad’s proud, Trey’s…Trey.”

  Beth chuckled at his restraint.

  Meg didn’t feel as charitable. “Actually, Trey’s impossible. Beth, when we met them at that baby store last night, there was Isabel, about to give birth, and there was Trey, punching words in her face about how he did his job and she ought to do hers.”

  “He said that?” Beth asked, her lip curled.

  “Apparently Isabel’s ‘job’ is to live her life alone,” Meg said, still angry about it. “Who would want to marry a doctor, no matter how rich he was?”

  Beth glanced at Ry, and their eyes held for a second as if they were thinking about the same thing, probably about the life their mother had lived, their grandmother and Isabel, too. Meg pitied them all.

  “Who would want to marry a doctor?” Beth repeated. “As long as you asked, Meg, I’d say a woman who admires how much her man wants to make a difference and how serious he is about wanting to help people. Or maybe a woman who appreciates that her man is smart, incredibly dedicated—”

  “And rich,” Meg added. One of them ought to be realistic.

  “That’s not it, Meg,” Ry said quietly.

  Beth backed him up. “Most of the doctors I know didn’t go into it for the money. By the time they get through school and start earning any money, they have to pay off school bills, then deal with the HMOs and liability insurance. It’s not what people think.”

  It wasn’t like Beth to lecture. What had happened to make her unload this way? On New Year’s Eve, it was Beth herself who had ruled out doctors as Mr. Right candidates. Now she was changing her tune?

  Maybe Beth felt insulted, being a doctor herself. “I’m sure you’re right, Beth,” Meg said apologetically, wishing she hadn’t been so outspoken. As seldom as she saw Beth, Meg didn’t want to spend their time arguing.

  “Check out the baby,” Ry said, nodding toward the nursery window where tiny J.T. stretched in his sleep. “Look at those long fingers. I think he looks like a quarterback, don’t you?”

&nbs
p; Beth hooted. “Wouldn’t it be perfect if he turned out to be everything you are and Trey isn’t?”

  “Don’t wish that on the kid,” Ry muttered. “He’ll be looking for a new home.”

  Beth’s eyes found Meg’s. Ry had suffered more than they had known.

  “The last time I saw Isabel, she was one grateful mommy,” Beth claimed brightly, changing the mood. “She said you two were terrific.”

  “Ry was the one who was terrific,” Meg said, looking up at him with the approval he deserved.

  Beth smiled to herself, so glad that her brother had Meg to love him. And Ry was so in love with her that Beth felt positively teary. What she would give to be loved like that. Maybe there was a God. Her brother and her best friend did seem like a match made in heaven.

  She couldn’t resist teasing them. “It looks as if I was right,” she said with a meaningful glance at Meg.

  “About what?” Ry asked innocently.

  But alarm flared in Meg’s eyes. Beth almost laughed. It took so little to communicate with best friends who were on the same wavelength.

  “Beth, why don’t you go with me to the rest room?” Meg said, grabbing her arm.

  “Why do women always need another woman to go to the rest room?” Ry said, shaking his head as they left.

  Beth grinned back at him. “It’s just part of the pairing-up instinct. Right, Meggy?”

  “It’s ‘Meg!’” she snapped. “And you know that.”

  Beth did know, but if a scolding was coming, why not have a little fun first?

  In the rest room, Meg squared off, her hands on her hips, ready for battle. “Okay, Beth, let’s get this settled, once and for all. I know you’re only kidding but—”

  “Who said I was kidding?” Beth interrupted. She did so love to be right, and, boy, was she right this time.

  “Well, you have to be kidding,” Meg said emphatically.

  “Nope, you and Ry are perfect together.”

  Meg rolled her eyes. “Beth, no matter what it looked like back there—”

  “Like two people who are in love with each other.”