by Patt Marr
Meg had no problem with that. She’d been trying to think of her work that way ever since she heard that sermon.
“The way Pete builds houses at modest prices for families is his ministry. My church work with the teens and taking care of Shay and Meggy are my ministries now. I don’t expect Pete to be interested in the tiny details of my life any more than I’m all that interested in the tiny details of his, and I don’t count on him to meet my every need. I have my best friends for that, and my best friends are you, my neighbor Bev and Cathy from church.”
As much as Meg loved hearing herself named as one of Sunny’s best friends, she couldn’t help feeling bad that her brother was left out. “But what about Pete?”
Sunny’s face softened with love. “My darling husband is more than my best friend. He’s my best love and the constant in my life. He’s my champion and comfort when life seems too hard. I couldn’t love him more.”
Meg’s concern melted. She was so glad her brother had Sunny to love him.
“If our ministries overlapped,” Sunny said reflectively, “or if we shared more interests, I suppose we might be true ‘best friends.’ Some couples are, but I can’t imagine them being any happier than Pete and I are.”
Meg couldn’t argue with that. Their home was filled with love.
“When I think of the military couples who are often forced to spend much of their lives apart, I’m grateful that Pete is at home as much as he is.”
Meg got the point. Sunny wasn’t terribly subtle. The military couple analogy was a good one. That was the kind of marriage she would have with Ry if he was in medical school.
“Some couples work different shifts,” Sunny added, again not very subtle, “and others have to hold down multiple jobs to make ends meet. Don’t you think it’s the quality of the time you share that’s important, more than the quantity?”
“Why wouldn’t a person want both?” Meg asked, not meaning to argue, but that was what she wanted.
“It gets down to what God wants. Sometimes He uses a couple as a pair for His purpose, and they are more powerful together than if they each worked alone. But some couples are so wrapped up in themselves, that they have no ministry. They leave others out, even their children.”
Meg’s heart turned over, knowing that Sunny was speaking from personal experience about that. Her parents’ political ambitions had left Sunny out.
“Then there are couples like Pete and me who have separate giftings and separate ministries. Separately, we touch more lives than if one of us gave up his life to devote to the other’s work. God seems to use couples both ways, according to His need.”
More than anything, Meg wanted God’s will. Could her ideal of marriage be wrong? It had been formed before she’d become a Christian. She’d surrendered many old ideas as she’d realized they were not God’s way. Was this one more thing to surrender?
God’s plan might not be what she thought she wanted, but she would never know unless she let faith take over.
“You and Ry could work this out, Meg. It’s not too late for you to have your wedding day.”
Hope flared in Meg’s heart, but fear crowded it out. Choices. She’d never been good about making them, and here she was, faced with one of the biggest in her life.
They sat there quietly, as the waves came and went, an unending testimony to God’s control of the universe. Meg thought of the strength of Pete and Sunny’s marriage and the happy home her own parents had given her. Did she have to have her way about her future or could she find the faith to build a new dream?
“Should I call Ry?” she wondered out loud.
“What could it hurt?” Sunny answered encouragingly.
“It could hurt a lot if he said again that we weren’t ‘meant to be.’”
“But Ry said that right after you’d given his ring back. You’d broken his heart, Meg. Those words came from wounded pride. Are you going to let them rob you of your wedding day?”
It was almost midnight on Monday, and Ry had nothing to do but lay on his bunk at Field Medics, waiting for a call to come in. He listened to Hector snore and wondered if Meg’s day had been happy. Was she counting off the days to their wedding date as he was, or had she gone on with her life? Maybe she’d even resumed her search for Mr. Right.
How could she do that? He couldn’t imagine himself with anyone but her. When he wasn’t at work, he hung around his apartment, soaking up memories of her, and listened for any sound that she might have returned. He would never move, not when the place held memories of Meg giving him all the sass he could handle and loving him more than he was worth.
He took her picture from his shirt pocket and held it in his hands. In the darkened room, he couldn’t see it, but he didn’t need to. Her image was burned into his mind. Holding the picture was just a pitiful way to hold on.
This Saturday, five days from now, his loneliness would have been over. Some guys weren’t all that keen about wearing a wedding ring, but Ry had looked forward to it. He’d wanted that symbol of belonging, and he’d loved the idea of taking care of Meg for the rest of his life.
He regretted so many things, like taking so long to tell Meg he loved her—especially when she admitted the Mr. Right search had just been a ruse to hide her feelings for him. He regretted that he would miss the chance to see her walk down the aisle on their wedding day. The dream of that day had kept him going for the month they were engaged. And he felt really bad that he would miss the joy of surprising her with their honeymoon destination.
Surprises were not Meg’s thing, but he’d known she would love this one. She’d described the five-star Hawaiian resort where Stan and Tami had their dream date as the most romantic place she’d ever seen—and that was saying something, for Meg had been on plenty of other couples’ dream dates.
She’d even shared her daydream of the two of them there, and he’d planned for the whole thing to come true. There would have been moonlight, roses and candlelight on that terrace overlooking the Pacific. He’d bought a tux for himself and a floaty white dress with a scarf for her, just as she’d described, laughing at herself for having such a daydream.
But Ry loved that about her, and he’d loved hearing her talk about watching the paramedics save Stan’s life and how proud she was of Ry for doing important work like that.
What would have happened if he had told her right then that he hoped to do work just as important, working as an ER doc? Would he have lost the approval and admiration in her eyes? Or would he be marrying Meg five days from now?
“Ry,” Hector murmured sleepily. “Go to sleep, man. You’re so sleep deprived you’re gonna kill somebody.”
“At least I’ll have an excuse,” Ry said, trying to joke and prove he wasn’t as bad off as Hector thought. “What’s going to be yours?”
“That I was blinded by the beauty of the woman in the picture my partner holds in his hand like a little girl holds on to her baby doll.”
Ry slipped the picture back into his pocket.
“I saw that. Good for you, little buddy.”
Ry threw his pillow at his partner as hard as he’d thrown a football in his quarterback days.
“Oof,” his partner uttered. Hector rolled over, turned on a table lamp and lobbed the pillow back.
Ry caught it with one hand and tucked it under his head.
“So, how long are you gonna mope?” Hector asked, looking at him with disgust.
“As long as it takes.”
“For what?”
“I don’t know.” If he knew how to pull himself out of this, he would.
“Have you called her yet?”
Ry looked away. Every day Hector asked that. Every day the answer was the same. There wasn’t any reason to call. Meg didn’t want him, not on his terms, not on hers.
“You’re just a sorry case,” Hector said with no pity at all for Ry’s pain.
That was good. Ry couldn’t have taken pity.
“We’re off in a couple
of hours. How about we get some breakfast or go to the beach or something?”
“Not today.”
“You always say that! And then we come back to work, and I ask you what you did, and every time, it’s the same thing. ‘Nothing.’ You’re wallowing, man. Like a big old hog, you’re just wallowing, and it is not pretty. You’ve got to move on.”
Ry sighed. He would when he could. Grief was a process. Hector ought to know that.
Since it looked like it was up to him to save his partner’s love life, Hector went to the TV studio on Tuesday morning.
“I’m here to see Meg Maguire,” he said to the receptionist, striking a pose, one thumb tucked at the waist of his black leather pants. Hopefully, he looked like a suave Dream Date contestant.
“Is she expecting you?” the young woman asked, her gorgeous Latin eyes appreciating the trouble he’d taken to look this good.
“Tell her I’m Ry Brennan’s partner.” He spoke with more bravado than confidence. He’d taken a chance, showing up like this, but he had to do something. His partner was a mess.
The little cutie talked softly into her phone. The name on her desk said she was Vanessa. He wondered if Vanessa was seeing anyone. Maybe he’d ask her out after he did what he’d come here to do.
Vanessa smiled at him brightly. “You’re in. Meg says to send you on back.”
He gave her a flirty wink and followed her directions to Meg’s office, rehearsing again what he planned to say. He had to get this just right…for his own sake as well as his partner’s. Working with Ry wasn’t fun anymore.
Meg could hardly believe it. Ry’s partner was on the way to her office? Vanessa said that Hector Gonzales looked like a perfect Dream Date candidate, but Meg was more interested in what he could tell her about Ry.
Hurriedly, she slicked on a fresh coat of lip gloss and fluffed up her hair. If Hector took a report back to Ry on how she was handling their breakup, she had just enough pride to care about what he would say.
She ought to look knee-deep in work. That shouldn’t be hard, not with the tall stack of contestant applications on her desk. She’s never been so behind in her work, but her heart wasn’t into matching couples. She needed a new job, something that didn’t focus on people looking for love. When she’d made such a botch of her own love life, what right did she have, interfering with others’?
She’d taken Sunny’s advice and called Ry, twice each on his home phone and his cell. Each time, she’d gotten his voice mail and hung up without leaving a message. What kind of message could she have left?
“Hi, just calling to ask if I can have my ring back.”
That would have been brilliant.
“Hey, Ry! The wedding’s still on. See you there.”
That would have been just as bad.
Four more days until Saturday. Unless a miracle happened, it would be the worst day of her life. But Monday would roll around, and she would look for a new job and a new apartment, too.
She couldn’t live at Los Palmas where she risked running into Ry any time, any day. Even if he moved away, there were too many memories for her to stay.
Maybe he’d already moved. He wasn’t as slow to move on as she was. He would probably go on their honeymoon and call it a celebration from his narrow escape from the marriage that wasn’t “meant to be.”
The sting of those words hurt every time and brought on a fresh batch of tears. She really had to stop looping that phrase. Grabbing a tissue, she dabbed at her eyes.
“Meg?” Hector walked through the open door and held out his hand. “Thanks for seeing me.”
“No problem,” she said brightly, hiding the tissue. “Ry said you would be a perfect Dream Date contestant. I thought he’d be perfect, too, and tried to get him on the show, but—”
“Why would you do that?” Hector interrupted, frowning. “He was in love with you.”
That took her breath. “But that was back in February. I didn’t know then.”
“You didn’t? I knew the first week we were partners.”
“He told you?”
“He didn’t have to. It was written all over his face.”
Then she hadn’t imagined that look.
“He’s still crazy in love with you, Meg. I don’t know what he said or did to make you so mad—”
“I’m not mad.”
“You aren’t?” His eyes widened. “Then why aren’t you two together?”
It was embarrassing to explain, but maybe God had given her this chance to let Ry know she hadn’t factored in faith when she clung to her dream. “I was upset when I found out Ry planned to go to med school, and—”
“Ry’s not going to med school!” Hector said as if he knew it for sure.
Had Ry kept his secret from Hector, too? “He didn’t tell you about it?”
“No, he told me. But he’s not going. It’s like he’s trying to prove something.”
Meg’s heart sank. It would be just like Ry to sabotage his own dream.
“I sure wish somebody could talk to him about that,” Hector said meaningfully.
For the first time in ages, the butterfly troop stirred.
“Though it probably wouldn’t do any good.” He shook his head sadly.
“Why not?” She touched her stomach, quieting the troop.
“Well, you know the guy better than me, but I’ve never seen Ry get talked into anything he didn’t want to do.”
That was so true.
“I’ve got an idea!” Hector said with such a sly look that she almost smiled. He’d come here with that idea.
“Why don’t you give me a Dream Date application? I’ll get Ry to help me fill it out. I’ll say I saw you, and that you said… What should I tell him, Meg?” His eyes dared her to be open and honest.
She took a deep breath. “Tell him I said I was wrong.”
Hector rolled his eyes. “Can’t you make it something else? Ry won’t believe that. Women never admit they’re wrong.”
“This woman does.”
It was a dreary Wednesday morning, perfect weather for Ry’s mood. He sat in the Field Medics kitchen, drinking yet another cup of black coffee, so tired he could hardly think. It felt as if his heart wasn’t even there in his chest anymore, just a heavy stone that took all the space.
Hector came bouncing into the kitchen and slapped a paper down on the lunch table. “There you go, man. That’s your ticket back into your girl’s heart.”
Ry was in no mood for this kid’s nonsense. He picked up the paper and slid it into the waste can.
“Man! You are one self-destructive dude!” Hector fished the application out of the can and slapped it back on the table. “Look at it, Ry! It’s a Dream Date application. Meg Maguire personally initialed this form to be directed to her attention. It’s for me, not you, but I’m going to let you use it. You fill it out nice, take it to the studio yourself and she’ll see you.”
Ry sighed. “Now, why would I want to do that?”
“Because she said to tell you she was wrong.”
“Sure, she did.” Ry would believe that when they invented a cure for the common cold.
“Ry, I’m not kidding. I asked her if she wanted me to tell you anything, and that’s what she said.”
“That she was wrong,” Ry repeated, considering it for a moment. No, Meg wouldn’t have said that.
“Would I lie? This is a way for you to save face, man. Fill the form out. Pretend that you want to go on her show. If she seems glad about that, you can find an excuse not to actually go on the show. But if she’s upset that you want to go on that show, you’ll know she wants you herself. What do you have to lose?”
Actually, not much. His pride was all gone.
Wednesday had been a very long day, and this morning had dragged by, as well. Of course it was only two days ago that Hector had shown up here at her office, but she’d believed he would take her message to Ry right away. If Ry still loved her, wouldn’t he have called?
; Maybe Sunny was right, and Ry wouldn’t risk rejection again.
Her phone rang, and she couldn’t grab it fast enough. But it was only Vanessa, the receptionist.
“Meg, one of your adorable hunks just dropped off a completed application form for Dream Date.”
There was nothing unusual about that. “Just drop it in my mailbox, Vanessa.”
“It has your initials in the upper left-hand corner of the envelope. You always want those right away.”
She’d initialed the application Hector had taken to Ry. “Is the guy still there?”
“No, he seemed in a hurry when he dropped it off.”
“Was it the guy who was here Tuesday?”
“Meg, there were lots of guys here Tuesday.”
“I’m talking about Hector Gonzales.”
“What did he look like?”
“Dark hair, dark eyes, about five foot nine?”
“Hmm, I don’t remember him, but the guy that dropped off the envelope has dark blond hair. He was about six feet tall, lean but muscular and he had great dimples when he smiled. He was really cute, Meg.”
That was Ry. It had to be. Had he brought Hector’s application, hoping he would see her? “I’ll come get the form,” she said, eager to see if Hector had included a message about Ry. Racing to reception, she wished Ry had waited.
“Wow, you got here fast,” Vanessa said, handing over the envelope.
It didn’t seem like it. Meg’s hands trembled as she tore open the envelope and began reading the application on her way back to her office.
It wasn’t what she expected. Ry had used Hector’s application, supplying his own name, pertinent data and list of favorites, which matched hers exactly, just as they had in that Mexican restaurant the night his nephew was born.
On the second page, where he was asked to describe his idea of a perfect date, he’d written the one she’d talked about. It was all there—worshiping at church, taking the boat to Catalina, strolling past shops, eating ice-cream cones, dinner at a beachfront restaurant, listening to the waves, watching the stars and taking the last boat back—every last detail. Ry Brennan did indeed have the best memory of anyone she knew.
