The Wedding Gift

by Sandra Steffen

  It hadn’t been meaningless to her.

  That hurt. She was getting real tired of feeling hurt.

  From now on she was taking charge of her life. Moving from the safety of the quiet attic apartment in Summer’s inn had been an important step. She’d accepted a job with Emily Richmond, the new midwife in town. And she was going out with her friends more. One of these days, she might even ride the mechanical bull everyone was talking about.

  She wasn’t sure about bungee jumping, but scuba diving sounded like fun. She and her friends were saving for a vacation in Hawaii. She might try surfing, too.

  She wasn’t going to play it safe all the time anymore.

  It was difficult for anybody to imagine themselves old, but she’d had a vague sense that she would own a large sleepy cat and would take up quiet activities like quilting and knitting and puzzles. Now, she was thinking she’d like a dog. She was going to live a noisy, messy life. If she made mistakes, at least she would have interesting stories to tell in her old age.

  All she had to do now was stop thinking about Riley morning, noon and night. Yesterday she thought she saw his dog chasing a squirrel in a little park on Village Street. Twice she thought she’d glimpsed a silver Porsche disappearing around a corner.

  Chalking it up to her imagination running wild, she looked at the boxes waiting to be unpacked. She had plenty to do today to settle into her little bungalow. She was going to enjoy living here. From now on, if she wanted to play her music loud, she could. If she wanted to walk around naked, she would.

  Like someone she used to know.

  That was what Riley was now, someone she used to know. In time he would be part fond memory, part figment of her imagination.

  Perhaps in a hundred years.

  If Madeline hurried, she would have time to return the casserole dish to her new neighbor before Summer arrived to pick her up for a girls’ night at the movies. It wasn’t exactly girls gone wild, but she was looking forward to the Friday evening with her friends.

  She locked the door behind her and turned around, only to stop. Instantly. In her tracks.

  It wasn’t her imagination.

  A brown dog stood in her driveway, his knobby tail wagging excitedly. Riley stood next to him, feet apart, hands on his hips, his eyes hidden behind dark glasses.

  While she was recovering her equilibrium, the friendly dog pattered over to say hello. She bent down, and for the first time in three weeks she laughed aloud at the wet tongue tickling her cheek and neck.

  “Heel, Gulliver,” Riley said.

  Wiping dog kisses off her face, tears stung Madeline’s eyes. He’d named his dog, she thought. He’d called him Gulliver, like the traveler. It suited him.

  Refusing to let Riley see what his unannounced visit was doing to her, she straightened her spine. What a relief, she still had a spine. Fighting the urge to fidget, she said, “What are you doing here?”

  “You cut your hair.”

  She supposed she couldn’t blame her hand for going unbidden to her hair. What else was her hand supposed to do when her brain refused to function properly?

  His hair had been cut recently, too. It didn’t make him look any more civilized. Although he probably paid more for the clothes and sunglasses he was wearing than she had for her first month’s rent, he’d projected the same air of in-your-face confidence in jogging pants and a faded T-shirt. Apparently he wasn’t shaving every day anymore. It made him seem more rugged, more dangerous.

  “How did you know where to find me? I’ve only lived in this house for twenty-four hours.”

  “I saw you moving in yesterday.”

  So his car hadn’t been a figment of her imagination, either. “You’ve been following me?”

  “It isn’t as if I parked down the street and spied on you through binoculars.”

  She felt the needle poke of a guilty conscience as she marched down her driveway, her nose in the air. She almost made it past him before his hand snagged her arm.

  Her heart lurched; her body remembered his touch. She couldn’t see his eyes through his dark glasses, but she could see a vein pulsing in his neck, could sense the change in his breathing, too.

  “What are you doing here, Riley?” she asked again.

  “You left before those five days were up.”

  She bristled and shook his arm off. “The time has expired.”

  She could have kissed Summer when she pulled up just then. Head held high, Madeline walked the remaining distance to the curb and got in the waiting car.

  She couldn’t help glancing out the window as they drove away. Riley had removed his dark glasses and was looking at her, the leash in his right hand, an expression of dark intensity on his lean face.

  “Who was that?” Summer Matthews had a deep sultry voice that could make ordering a sandwich sound like a dark secret.

  “Gulliver.” Madeline sniffled at the poignancy of it all.

  Madeline and Summer were the same size, from their rings, to their clothes, even their shoes. They understood one another better than any sister could have, but even Summer was having trouble following Madeline’s train of thought. “Is Gulliver his first name or last?”

  “Gulliver is the dog,” Madeline explained. “The man is Riley Merrick.”

  Summer’s eyebrows rose in two perfect arches above her large hazel eyes. “What’s he doing here?”

  When she’d first arrived home three weeks ago, Madeline had described Riley’s house, his car, his dog, his friend, even his mother to Summer in great detail, but all she’d said about sex was that she’d had it. Sometimes what a person didn’t say said the most.

  “I’m not sure,” Madeline said thoughtfully. His mention of their five days had alluded to sex, but he’d probably done that to gage her reaction. What was he doing in Orchard Hill?

  “Aren’t you curious?” Summer asked.

  “Are you kidding? It was all I could do to get in this car and let you drive away.”

  The former Madeline, the one living the safe, orderly life would have stayed in the driveway making understanding noises with her tongue. She would have made this easy for Riley. But the Madeline just beginning to emerge, the one destined to live a noisy, messy and full life was going to wait to see what he was going to do next.

  She put the empty casserole dish on her lap so she could rub her hands together. Her new messy life was already getting interesting.

  Word traveled fast. The man who’d received Aaron Andrews’s heart was in Orchard Hill.

  It was Riley Merrick this and Riley Merrick that.

  At first everyone spoke his name in a whisper, as if to soften the imminent pain the mention of him and how he pertained to Aaron’s heart would undoubtedly incur. They didn’t know that Madeline had known his identity since the night Aaron died.

  It started with the clerk at the window in the post office where she went to change her mailing address on Saturday morning. “Now Madeline,” Celia Bundy said, her double chin quivering above the collar of her postal uniform, “I don’t know how to tell you this, so I’ll just come out and say it. There’s a man in town. Asking questions.”

  “What kind of questions?” Madeline asked.

  “About Aaron.” This was delivered with a gentle pat on Madeline’s shoulder. “It’s the man who got his heart, dear. His name is Riley Merrick.”

  “What did you tell him?”

  Luckily nobody was behind her in line, because Celia, whose husband, Raymond, had been the chief of police until his retirement last year, launched into the tale she’d shared with Riley about the time somebody had painted the f-word and signed Madeline’s name on the rusted old water tower the city had deserted years earlier. Aaron had gotten caught with white paint on his hands. Nobody could believe it, but evidence was evidence.

  “To this day Raymond remembers how you rode your bicycle to the police station and dragged him outside and asked him to take you to the old water tower. Of course, we all felt bad for yo
u, having lost your mom and dad like you did. Not even that tough old bird could deny your tearful request. Imagine Ray’s surprise when he got there and saw that the profanity had been painted over with white paint.” With a sniffle, Celia said, “You and Aaron always did watch out for each other.”

  Madeline felt a shiver go up her spine, but she smiled gently and said, “Yes, we did.”

  Bonnie, the checker at the IGA store, patted Madeline’s shoulder, too, only she’d shared a different story about Aaron, this one about the winning curve ball he’d pitched in the final game their senior year. By the time Madeline walked into The Hill, the restaurant where she was meeting Summer and two other friends for lunch, she’d heard Riley Merrick’s name a dozen times.

  The Hill was nothing like Fiona’s Bistro in Gale. If a person wanted finer dining in Orchard Hill, they drove across the river to the college side of town. The Hill’s décor was Americana Diner. The tables were square, the food was fresh and hot, and the service was good. As usual, the place was packed today.

  Summer, Chelsea Reynolds and Abby Fitzpatrick were already seated when Madeline arrived. Chelsea and Abby looked worriedly at her as she slid onto the bench seat next to Summer. “Have you heard?” Chelsea asked.

  Before Madeline could answer, the object of discussion appeared at their table. “Hello, Madeline,” Riley said.

  She looked up at him, for surely he’d been following her again. “There are laws against stalking,” she said.

  “I just finished my lunch.” He pointed to a table across the aisle set with a used place setting for one.

  Chelsea and Abby looked from the well-dressed Adonis to Madeline. They had no idea who he was. And yet they slid over to make room for him.

  Before taking the seat opposite Madeline, he slanted them both one of his devastating smiles, the one that showcased the shape of his wide mouth and called attention to the slight indentation in his chin. “It seems the cat’s got Madeline’s tongue. I’m Riley Merrick. I’m the guy who got Aaron’s heart.”

  Madeline could appreciate the way Abby’s and Chelsea’s mouths were hanging open. “You’re making quite an impact on the town,” she said.

  “It’s nice to know you’re still a fan.”

  “Do you two know each other?” Abby asked.

  He looked to Madeline to answer.

  “It’s a long story,” she said.

  Riley hadn’t intended to interrupt Madeline’s lunch with her friends, but he’d seen her saunter in. She wore black slacks that fit her like a pair of kid gloves, black sandals and a deep red shirt that hugged her torso and made her hair, which now just touched her shoulders, look like spun gold. His Neanderthal instincts had kicked in. He wanted everyone in Orchard Hill to know who he was. More importantly, he wanted everyone to know who he was to Madeline. He wanted to stake his claim right there in the restaurant. But he didn’t.

  Not yet.

  Yesterday he’d driven from one end of Orchard Hill to the other, getting a feel for the lay of the land. It wasn’t as small as he’d expected. According to the city map he’d picked up at the historical society, Orchard Hill had more than one hundred houses on the historic registry and more than twenty-thousand residents. College students accounted for almost half of that number, and lived near campus across the river. This side of town belonged to people with deep roots and long memories.

  This was Madeline’s side.

  He could hardly believe it had been three weeks since he’d seen her. His memories didn’t do her justice. He had a lot to make up for, and a lot to prove.

  He started with the truth. “I’m a changed man.” He could feel the other three looking at him, but he kept his gaze trained on Madeline. “I’ve done everything you suggested. I named my dog. I’m living in my house. And I can feel my heart beating.”

  “You can?” she asked.

  He got the distinct impression she’d meant to say, “That’s nice.” She wasn’t going to make this easy for him. He was glad about that, for nothing warmed him like a good challenge, nothing except her, that is.

  One of her friends, he was pretty sure her name was Abby, said, “Does it take time to regain feeling after a transplant?”

  “Not normally,” he answered. “In fact, I’ve never heard of another case like mine.”

  “So this sensation of being able to feel your organ is fairly recent. Ow.” The petite blonde with a pixie haircut and evidently a little pixie dust in her head rubbed her shin and glared at Summer, who was sitting across from her. “Kindly take your mind out of the gutter.”

  Summer Matthews was the only person Riley had encountered who’d refused to talk to him. When he told her his name at the Orchard Inn, she’d closed the registration book and said there were no vacancies. He smelled a lie, and where there was a lie, there was a reason. Summer wasn’t from Orchard Hill. She and Madeline looked nothing alike, and yet they were protective of one another. They reminded Riley of him and Kipp.

  Madeline could see Riley taking stock of her friends. She didn’t know what she would do without them, any of them. She understood Abby’s curiosity, because she couldn’t contain hers, either. Riley could feel his heart. Madeline wanted to know when, how, why. “How recent?” she asked him, drawing his attention.

  “Since shortly after my mother walked in on us. By the way, Mom says hello.”

  Madeline felt herself getting warm. It wasn’t embarrassment. It was surprise and the first stirring of desire.

  He was good at this. She’d known it the first day she’d met him.

  Riley stood and smiled around the table. “It was nice meeting all of you.” He looked at Madeline last. “I’ll be in touch.”

  Four pairs of eyes watched him saunter away. And then three pairs turned to stare at Madeline.

  “His mother walked in on you? You mean, during sex?” Chelsea asked.

  “You and Riley had sex? Oh my God,” Abby exclaimed. “Did Aaron know?”

  Since Madeline was blonde, too, she couldn’t blame Abby’s airheadedness on that. “Of course not. It was last month,” she said. “Remember when I went to the lakeshore? Well, I drove up to Gale. I had no intention of meeting Riley. I thought that once I saw the man in possession of Aaron’s beating heart I could start to believe in goodness again.”

  “But you met him, Riley Merrick, I mean,” Chelsea said.

  “How else could she have slept with him?” Abby pointed her finger in warning at Summer.

  “Out with it,” Chelsea said to Madeline.

  “Yes,” Abby agreed. “We want the story. Don’t even think about leaving out a single detail.”

  In a quiet voice, Madeline retold the entire tale. Even Summer, who’d already heard it, leaned forward to better hear.

  Madeline recalled driving out of Orchard Hill by the light of the waning moon, and how easily she’d discovered the hidden lane she’d been looking for near Gale, and how she’d felt the quiet chiming of something sweet and delicate sprinkling into the empty spaces inside her when she’d first come face-to-face with Riley. She told them about his dog and his house and his smiles. And she told them how he never pressured her, how he’d left the decision up to her, and how she knew that if she didn’t make love with him that night she would regret it for the rest of her life. She included Riley’s mother’s unexpected visit, and concluded with Riley’s reaction once the truth was out in the open.

  She sighed when she was finished. Her friends sighed, too.

  “You’re in love with him, aren’t you?” Chelsea asked.

  Summer met Madeline’s gaze.

  Abby nodded emphatically. “When you were at the lakeshore, you were worried he would think you only loved him because of Aaron’s heart. What’s he doing here?”

  “I don’t know,” Madeline said.

  She planned to find out. And she planned to do it soon.

  Chapter Eleven

  Madeline wasn’t watching where she was going when she left the restaurant. Luckily, sh
e somehow managed to avoid running into other diners and the frazzled waitress named Roxy, who’d worked the lunch crowd as long as Madeline could remember.

  As dazed as she was, she noticed Riley leaning against the building the second she stepped outside, though, the sun-warmed bricks at his back, Gulliver at his feet. His gaze never wavered from her as she neared.

  She saw Riley push away from the corner, a marvelous shifting of lean muscles and smoldering man. He started toward her, his sunglasses in his hand, Gulliver at his side. They took their half out of the middle of the sidewalk, purpose in Riley’s every step, and stopped directly in front of her.

  She saw everything, but honestly, she never saw the kiss coming. But kiss her he did, right there on Village Street in front of God and everyone.

  Her bag slipped off her shoulder and slid down her arm, landing on the sidewalk with a quiet plop. She left it there, and went up on tiptoe, diving into a frenzied kiss. Oh, she’d missed this.

  Her hands glided around his waist, her body straining against his. She felt his arms slip her around back, too, but she was most aware of his lips on hers. It was a hard kiss, a deep kiss, an I’ll-die-if-I-don’t-do-this-kiss that lit up the pair of them on the sidewalk better than any neon sign.

  They weren’t exactly living in the dark ages, and it wasn’t as if everybody watching hadn’t seen far more explicit embraces on the soaps or at the movies. But they didn’t normally see this sort of kissing on the streets of Orchard Hill in the middle of the day.

  Four heads appeared at the barbershop window, two others in curlers at the hair salon next door. Brett Avery at the hardware store stopped pricing out lawnmowers and looked, too. Edith Wilson, the sternest librarian to ever shake her finger at an errant third grader stopped on the library steps and stared, and so did anybody else who still had at least one decent eye. And every person who witnessed that red-hot kiss was going to tell somebody. It was the way of small towns. For better or for worse, news traveled fast.