Getting Lucky

by Marilyn Pappano

  He prayed Alanna wasn’t another.

  Chapter Sixteen

  At the age of eighteen, Lynda had gone away to college and, effectively, left home for good. In all those years, little had changed. The dark gold carpeting was now beige, and the walnut cabinets in the kitchen had been painted, but her old bedroom was still done in pink with white furniture, including a canopy bed that had been too short for her by her fourteenth birthday. The room had been decorated by her mother, and Lynda had gone through stages with it, loving it, hating it, not even noticing it. Late on a warm Saturday afternoon, as she gazed at herself in the mirror atop the pink-skirted makeup table, she decided it was comforting. She had changed, but the safe haven this room represented hadn’t.

  Janice knocked at the door, then came in. “He’s here— Oh, honey, you’re more beautiful than the bride ever dreamed of being.”

  Lynda smiled faintly. In a moment of insanity, she’d asked her mother to set up that date for her with Travis Colton, the pediatric cardiovascular surgeon to die for. She wasn’t sure exactly why—whether she was being a good daughter, trying to prove that Ben wasn’t so important, or merely looking for someone to take her mind off him.

  Unfortunately, though Dr. Gorgeous didn’t mind the last-minute setup, there was just one small thing he had to take care of first—attending the wedding of one of his fellow physicians. And since Lynda had gone to school with both bride and groom, Janice and Travis had decided she should go to the wedding with him, and then they could go straight to dinner.

  Great. Trying to forget the man she’d dreamed of marrying by going to someone else’s wedding with a handsome stranger. It made tons of sense.

  Lynda adjusted the deep vee of her new crimson-colored dress for the last time, then held up two pairs of shoes. “How tall is Dr. Gorgeous?”

  “About five eleven. Maybe six feet if he stretched.”

  She laid the three-and-a-half-inch heels aside and started to put on the one-and-a-half-inch ones instead, but Janice pulled them from her. “You like the others better. Wear them. Let the good doctor get a crick in his neck.”

  That wasn’t a good sign. Lynda couldn’t recall Janice ever saying it was all right for her to tower over a date, especially one she’d handpicked. She didn’t argue, though. She didn’t have the energy.

  “I’ll wait up for you, dear. We’ll have ice cream and talk.”

  “What if I get an overnight invitation too tempting to resist?”

  “You’ll turn it down.” Janice sounded sure of herself, but didn’t say why. Lynda didn’t have the energy to ask that, either.

  They went downstairs together, where Phil was supposed to be entertaining the doctor. With his newspaper folded in his lap and his baseball game going unwatched on the television, he looked befuddled and unsure why this stranger was in his house.

  Travis Colton was everything Janice had promised—black-haired, blue-eyed, dimpled, and breathtakingly handsome. He looked like an actor who played a doctor on TV … and he left Lynda cold. His accent—the one she’d grown up with, the same as hers and her parents’—sounded harsh and blunt, and his smile struck her as so much more practiced and less charming than a simple grin. And although he was impeccably polite, once the door closed behind them and they were settled in his BMW, she couldn’t think of anything to say to him.

  The uncomfortable stiffness between them made her grateful for the wedding. At least there, once the ceremony started, they wouldn’t be expected to actually speak to each other. Unfortunately, there were those few minutes before the ceremony started.

  “Your mother was rather vague,” Travis remarked after they’d been seated at the end of a pew. “You do something in business?”

  “I work for McKinney Industries. Ross McKinney, Tom Flynn, and I run the company.”

  “Huh. So you’re like … their secretary.”

  Handsome, a medical whiz, but otherwise dumber than dirt. “No, no more than you’re like … a nurse’s aide.”

  “No, hon, I’m a pediatric cardiovascular surgeon. I heal sick babies.” He carefully enunciated his response, as if speaking slowly might enable her feeble brain to understand. When she didn’t respond, he fell silent, though not for long enough. “You’re a tall one.”

  Lynda was suddenly glad her mother had pushed the high heels. “I’d say that depends on your perspective. From where I sit, you’re rather short.”

  The dimple disappeared and the blue eyes narrowed. “Most tall women would never wear heels that high.”

  “Really?” She crossed one leg over the other and extended her foot to display the shoe. “I had these made in Italy—stopped off to get measured on a business trip to Athens, then picked them up the next time the company jet was free for a few days. I’m really very fond of them, and so are most of the men I go out with.” It wasn’t exactly a lie. If she’d gone out with many men, she was sure they would have loved the heels … as long as they were taller than five-eleven or as self-confident as Ben. “Of course, most of them aren’t … short.”

  His eyes narrowed even more. “I’m six foot one.”

  She looked him over, from head to toe. “In your dreams.”

  After another silence, he tried again to impress her. “Your mother may have mentioned that I just bought a place at the beach.”

  “No, I don’t believe she did.” Or maybe she had. Lynda hadn’t had the easiest time concentrating the last few days.

  “I’m having my house remodeled and needed someplace to stay for the first few weeks, while the heavy-duty work is being done. Since I hadn’t had a vacation in nearly a year, I decided to stay at the beach, and after looking at a few rentals, it obviously made more sense to just buy my own. So I cashed in some investments, and took the plunge.” He shrugged. “It was a little pricey, but it was worth it to not have one of those tacky houses you always find near the beach. And, of course, it is oceanfront property.”

  “Good hurricane target, huh?”

  This time not only did his eyes narrow, but tiny lines formed at the corners of his mouth and a nerve in his jaw started to twitch.

  Lynda turned her attention to the church. It was relatively new and, according to Janice, attended mostly by hypocrites. Barones might not show up in church often, but when they did, it was because they needed prayer, a little saving grace, or just a quiet time of worship—and they didn’t come to this church. Here the message seemed to be See and be seen. In one look around the large, incredibly ugly modern room, she’d recognized a number of faces, and all of them fitted Janice’s description perfectly.

  If she was going to spend an hour or two in a church this evening, she’d much rather be in the First Church of Bethlehem, where Agatha Winchester and Bud Grayson were being married tonight. There were none of these odd angles and massive expanses of brightly colored walls, no bright patterns or trendy color schemes in the two-hundred-year-old church. It looked exactly the way …

  … a church should look, Ben thought as he claimed a space at the back in the standing-room-only crowd. Solid. Enduring. The stained-glass windows depicted Bible verses familiar to him in spite of the long years that had passed since he’d regularly attended Sunday school, and the hymnals most likely were filled with familiar songs.

  “When’s it gonna start?” the restless kid beside him asked.

  “Soon,” the boy’s mother replied.

  “Why can’t we sit down?”

  “Because all the seats are taken.”

  “What’s it the First Church of?”

  “Bethlehem.”

  “But what’s it of? Is it the First Baptist Church?”

  “No, babe.”

  “First Christian?”

  “No.”

  “First—”

  “It’s just the First Church. Years ago, when Bethlehem became a town, this was the very first church the people built, and that’s how it got its name.” The mother gave Ben a harried smile. “Aren’t kids fun?”

 
; Not feeling exactly qualified to give an opinion, he shrugged instead.

  The boy looked up. “Miss Agatha’s my Sunday school teacher. Was she your Sunday school teacher, too?”

  “No. I just moved here.”

  “From where?”

  “Atlanta.”

  “Where’s that?”

  “Georgia.”

  “Is that why you talk funny?”

  “Kyle!” his mother admonished.

  Ben crouched beside him. “Down in Georgia, everyone talks like me. We’d think you talk funny.”

  “My name’s Kyle.”

  “Mine’s Ben.” He accepted the hand the boy stuck out and shook it. Feeling a steady gaze on his back, he glanced over his shoulder and saw Nathan Bishop watching him. Feeling guilty, he released the boy’s hand and stood up.

  By the time the heat that had risen on his neck had gone away, the ceremony had started. Ben couldn’t remember the last wedding he’d gone to. Most of his friends back home were single, and the few who married were more likely to do it in front of a judge than in a church with all the formalities. Like them, he’d figured why fuss?

  But as the Grayson men filed in at the front, Ben thought all the fuss wasn’t so bad. Getting married was a big step, and it deserved better than a hurried trip to the courthouse. Like any other special occasion, it deserved to be special. If a man couldn’t put a little effort into marrying the woman he loved, how much effort could he be counted on to put into the marriage?

  With a grand swell, the organ music seemed to fill the cavernous room …

  … but it lacked the great flourish it should have had. That, Lynda noticed, was because it wasn’t a real organ, but rather an electronic one that anybody—or nobody at all, in fact—could play. All the money the congregation had spent on soaring ceilings and odd architectural details, a person would think they would have invested in a real organ and a real person to play it.

  Not that it was any of her concern as, with everyone around her leading the way, she stood up for the bridal party’s grand entrance. Craning his neck to give her a look that was rather disdainful, Travis leaned close. “Did I mention I’ve got a new Porsche on order?” he murmured. “The first bridesmaid there—her father owns the local dealership.”

  Lynda debated answering. If she pretended interest, she was in for a boring evening. If she said what she wanted, at least it would be a short evening. The second bridesmaid, the third, then three more did a slow step down the aisle before she finally decided. Leaning close, she murmured her response in his ear, then watched him blanch with some satisfaction.

  The ceremony was touching, even if she didn’t belong there. It made her wish for a white gown of her own, for a handsome groom in a tux— She glanced sideways at Travis in his custom-tailored suit and corrected that thought. For Ben, in a tux, a suit, or jeans and a T-shirt. What he wore wouldn’t matter. How sincere he was would.

  She’d never known him to be insincere about anything.

  When the ceremony ended and the wedding party started passing by, Lynda caught a glimpse as Travis slid his hand in his jacket pocket. An instant later, his pager started beeping. With a look of incredible relief tempered only slightly by feigned regret, he pulled it out, then pretended to look at the number that wasn’t there.

  She waited until he opened his mouth, then said, “Emergency call?”

  “Yes, as a matter of fact it is.”

  “Don’t worry about me. I’ll catch a cab home.”

  “Would you? I’d appreciate it.”

  As soon as the exit was clear, Lynda left the church. The western sky was shades of pink, blue, and purple, the eastern sky deep velvety blue. It was a warm evening, and she wasn’t far from her parents’ house. Instead of calling for a cab, she set off for a leisurely stroll.

  For the first few blocks, all she could feel was relief at leaving Travis behind. She forgot him soon enough, though, in favor of thoughts about what a lovely evening it was, and how much more she would have enjoyed Agatha Winchester’s wedding than this one. Of course, Ben would have been there, and that would have been difficult … or maybe not. Maybe, even with the entire town there, she would have found the courage to approach him and tell him how much she missed him, how much she loved him, and how sorry she was for judging him. It all would have been true.

  But it had been true Wednesday night, too. It just hadn’t changed anything.

  She was home before she realized it. No, not home. It still felt dear and familiar, but her home was in Bethlehem, in her needy old house on the hill. She was halfway up the sidewalk when her mother spoke from the front porch.

  “Lyn? Darling, is that you?”

  “In the flesh.” After climbing the stairs, she sat down on the swing next to Janice. “What are you doing?”

  “I sit out here every evening. It’s a nice way to wind up the day. Where is that rat Travis?”

  Lynda gave her a brief rundown of the disastrous date, ending with the faked page and the false emergency. Janice shook her head in disgust. “As if my daughter wouldn’t know that old trick? Does he think you’re beautiful but dumb?”

  “No telling. I thought he was.” Lynda raised her hands to her face for a moment, as if she could rub away the weariness, then leaned back.

  “You want to talk about him?”

  “Travis? There’s nothing else to say.”

  Her mother’s look was reproving. “Ben. You’ve been here two days, and you haven’t mentioned his name. What happened?”

  She was going to be cool about it. They had some irreconcilable differences. It happened all the time. She smiled breezily in the dusky light and said, “It’s no big deal. You tried to warn me that he wasn’t my type, and you were right,” but her voice was less than steady.

  Janice made a dismissive gesture. “Who’s foolish enough to believe in types? If a man makes you happy, that’s all that matters.” She hesitated, then delicately said, “He did make you happy, didn’t he?”

  “I’m thirty-four years old. I have a great job, a great house, the best friend in the world, and the best family. I don’t need a man to be happy.”

  The sound her mother made was rude and expressed a world of doubt. “All those ‘great’ things are pretty cold comfort when you’re all alone. You know, you can be so independent, intelligent, and capable it’s scary, and still need a loving, giving, sharing relationship with a man. It’s human nature. Look at Adam and Eve, Romeo and Juliet, Rhett and Scarlett. People need people. It’s a fact of life.”

  “No, people used to need people. Now all we’re supposed to want is success—the jobs, the promotions, the big bucks. We’re not supposed to settle for a person until we’ve achieved everything there is to achieve.”

  “First problem.” Janice stabbed one finger in her direction. “You haven’t let anyone tell you what you want or need since you were about three years old—and seeing as I was usually the one trying to do the telling, believe me, I know. Second—who says success applies only to careers? Do you know how hard it is to find the right man? And even once you’ve found him, it doesn’t get easier. You have to compromise and learn and fight and give in, and that’s fine, as long as you don’t give up. And if you have children—God forgive me, I mean when you have children—you have a lifetime of worrying about them. A successful career is a snap compared to a successful marriage and family.” After a moment’s silence, she went on. “What’s the real problem with Ben?”

  Lynda knew she couldn’t outwait Janice. Her mother was the most incredibly patient person in the world. So, after staring off into the distance for a time, she fortified herself with a deep breath, then told her all about Alanna, Ben, and Berry. She used the simplest, bluntest terms—didn’t sugarcoat it, didn’t try to make it better or worse. There was no need. Janice was a reasonable woman. She would listen to the details and be as appalled as Lynda had been. She certainly wouldn’t want Ben for the father of her grandchildren.

  She finis
hed the story and waited for a response. When it came, she nearly fell off the swing.

  “For heaven’s sake, Lyn, he was a boy. Yes, what he did was wrong, but Lord help us if people start judging us now by things we did when we were teenagers. We’re all in big trouble—well, except you. What’s the real problem here?”

  “That is the problem.”

  “Are you afraid of being hurt? Did you get in deeper than you’d intended and risk more than you’d decided was safe?”

  “Mom, he walked away from his own baby! He left her with a woman who couldn’t be a decent mother to save her life!”

  “Yes, and it was wrong, and you say he regrets it and feels guilty for it. But has he done it again lately? Does he make a habit of walking away from his children? Has he turned his back on someone who was counting on him in recent years?”

  “No.” He’d promised there were no more secrets, and she believed him.

  “So he made a mistake, he regrets it, and he’s atoning for it. Now … What’s your problem? Why are you being so unreasonable about this? Are you jealous?”

  “Of his affair with Berry? Of course not. That ended years ago.”

  “Are you jealous of his daughter? Are you afraid you can’t love another woman’s child?”

  “No!” Lynda kicked off her shoes and drew her feet onto the swing, but getting more comfortable didn’t ease her scowl. “This isn’t about me, Mom. I don’t have a problem. I’m not jealous. I’m not afraid.”

  “Have you told him you love him?”

  The sudden knot in Lynda’s stomach made a lie of her last words. It certainly felt like fear. Tasted like it. Hurt like it. “N-no.”

  “Has he told you he loves you?”

  “No.” The answer slipped out, even though she hadn’t wanted to give it, and that one small word was overflowing with a wealth of emotion that she couldn’t stem.

  “Why do you think that is?”

  The irrational urge to cry swept over Lynda and propelled her to her feet to pace the length of the porch. She found a safe place in the shadows, folded her arms across her chest, and tried for a careless response. “I assume it’s because he doesn’t love me.”