Getting Lucky

by Marilyn Pappano

  “So he can safely assume that you don’t love him, either. After all, you haven’t told him so.” Janice sighed. “I do hate to use old clichés, but you know what they say about assuming things.”

  “That it makes an ass of you and me,” Lynda said sarcastically.

  “Leave me out of it. I’m not the one being unreasonable. I have to say, though, I’m tickled pink to see that you are, Lyn. You’re the smartest, most capable and perceptive woman I’ve ever met. But toss in a little emotion like love, and you become as fallible and insecure as the rest of us. I’m glad.”

  “I’m miserable, and you’re glad?”

  “Yes. Because it proves you’re human. Sometimes I wonder about that.” Janice spoke naturally, calmly, in a way that was difficult to take offense with. Ben’s tone had been similar, though regretful, when he’d made a like comment. Now you can find somebody more suitable, and I can find someone less perfect and more human.

  “I’m human.” If she weren’t, she wouldn’t have gone out with Dr. Gorgeous. She wouldn’t have run away from home. She wouldn’t be hurting so.

  Janice patted the swing beside her. “Come sit down, Lynnie.”

  Though she hated the old childhood nickname, she obeyed.

  “We’ve already established that you’re smart. Prove it now. Look into your heart and tell me you honestly think less of Ben because the girlfriend he walked out on was this Berry person and not someone bright and capable like you.”

  Lynda’s automatic response was yes, but when she opened her mouth to say so, Janice raised one hand. “You can’t look into your heart that quickly.”

  Clamping her mouth shut again, Lynda gazed off into the distance. She thought abandoning your pregnant girlfriend, no matter how well suited she was for being a single mother, was terribly selfish, juvenile, and immature … but wasn’t that pretty much the definition of a young man? And wasn’t a person entitled to make a mistake or two? Didn’t everyone deserve a second chance? If not, why would anyone ever change? Why make any effort at redemption if you couldn’t be forgiven past sins?

  By his own account, by Gloria’s account, he hadn’t abandoned the sad, pathetic woman Berry Dalton was today. She’d had problems, everyone agreed, but didn’t a lot of young women? And didn’t a lot of them, when faced with impending motherhood, often grow up, find help, and straighten out themselves as well as their priorities?

  Did she ever ask him for help? Did she ever contact Ben and say, I need money, a place to stay, someone to watch our daughter for a while? She was the one who’d moved, not him. It took his private detective weeks to find her, but she always knew where to find him. She knew where to go for help, and if she had he would have given it. He wouldn’t have turned away from her a second time.

  The voice was a murmur inside Lynda’s head, solid, real, yet lacking substance. It sounded like the gentlest breeze rustling through the leaves. Like the delicate tinkle of glass chimes far away or the distant echo of some long-forgotten memory.

  Actually, she amended, it sounded an awful lot like Gloria.

  She gave a shake of her head to clear it, listened, and heard nothing out of the ordinary—traffic a few blocks away, crickets in the darkness, the muted sound of her father’s TV.

  And her mother’s subdued prodding. “Well?”

  “I can’t say what he did was all right.”

  “No one’s asking you to.”

  “But … it’s not fair to blame him for everything that went wrong in Alanna’s and Berry’s lives. She was the primary caregiver for those kids, and she screwed up. And he does regret it.”

  “And he deserves a second chance, just like everyone else who’s ever made a mistake. Just like you.”

  Lynda’s eyes grew misty. “He’s already given me a second chance, and I blew it. He doesn’t give third chances. He said so.”

  “If he loves you, he’ll give you three hundred chances if that’s what it takes to get it right … though I’m hoping you’re more competent than that.”

  If he loves you … That was part of the problem. He’d never said he loved her, never talked about their future, had never seemed to be in it for more than a little fun and a little sex—which was all he’d ever wanted from Berry Dalton, too.

  A little fun? the whispering, tinkling Gloria-voice mocked. You’re hardly the logical choice for any man looking for a little fun.

  Lynda scowled. Gloria’s voice. Melina’s sentiments.

  “I feel like such an idiot, Mom.”

  “You should. But you swallow your pride and you explain it to Ben the best you can. And then you tell him the truth—that you have a history of irrational behavior when it comes to men.”

  “That’s not true,” Lynda said, her defensiveness only partly feigned.

  “It most certainly is. Remember Doug? Did you tell Ben about him?”

  “Yes, I did.” And a short time later, he’d kissed her for the first time—the sweetest kiss she’d ever been given. And then he’d kissed her again and curled her toes.

  “I’ve heard you tell it several times, and you always say it the same way. You and Doug had scheduled a meeting with the goal of setting a wedding date, but he had to cancel due to an emergency involving one of his clients.”

  “Yes? And your point?”

  “Doug didn’t have to cancel. You urged him to. You sent him to that empty little town out west, where you knew he would run into that granddaughter whom he’d met before, whom he’d admitted an attraction to before. You sent him, Lynda. At worst, you’d get a temporary reprieve from planning a wedding. At best, you’d get out of having to have a wedding at all.”

  Lynda wanted to say, No, you’re wrong, that’s not the way it happened. But that was exactly the way it had happened. “So you’re saying I sent Ben away because I didn’t want to be involved with him?”

  “No. I’m saying you got scared, just like you got scared with Doug, except there wasn’t another woman handy into whose arms you could push him and hope for nature to take its course, and so you developed this fixation on his past behavior.”

  “If it were true, that would be ridiculous.”

  Janice smiled affectionately. “That’s my point, darling. You’re not exactly rational in your dealings with men.”

  “And you are? You hated Ben on sight. You were shoving law-boy into my arms, and if that didn’t work, you were perfectly willing to marry me off to Anton or Darnell or Raphael, who doesn’t even have a job … but not Ben, because he’s a carpenter, because he didn’t go to Harvard.”

  “I never expected you to marry any of the men in that magazine. I would have been appalled if you’d shown even the slightest interest. I just wanted to get your hormones stirred up a bit—remind you of the differences between men and women and why they’re so good. And who knows? Maybe it worked. Your hormones certainly got stirred up.”

  “I believe that was thanks to Ben, not the men in the magazine.”

  “Maybe. Maybe not.” Janice got to her feet. “Time to head inside and dish up your father’s nightly ice cream. Want some?”

  “No, thanks, Mom.”

  From the other side of the screen door, Janice looked back. “What did you say to the rat Travis to shut him up?”

  Lynda had to think for a moment, to shift gears from the disaster of her relationship with Ben to the disaster of her date with Travis. “Nothing much. I just leaned close and whispered, ‘Depending on my stock options and the current quarter’s earnings, I’m going to make between two-point-one and three-point-eight million dollars this year.’ ”

  Janice laughed, then sobered. “I love you, Lyn, and if you love Ben, then I will, too. By the way, do you suppose he could fix that window over the kitchen sink? It’s always sticking, you know, and your father—Well, don’t get me started on your father.”

  “What about her father?” Phil called from the living room.

  “Nothing, dear. I was just telling her you’d be happy to give her away at t
he wedding. Two-point-one to three-point-eight million dollars.… Is that true?”

  Lynda merely shrugged. Actually, it should be a bit more.

  And she would give up every penny of it for another chance with Ben.

  By the time Miss Agatha and Bud had exchanged vows, the air in the old church had grown warm. Ben remembered hot summer evenings in church as a kid, when Emmaline had kept them both cool with paper fans, printed on one side with a Bible picture, on the other with a verse. He hadn’t minded church then, when he’d been too young to feel guilty setting foot through the doors.

  He’d paid little attention to the service this evening, and had hardly noticed the music. Instead, he’d watched Alanna, studying her intently as if he might commit every detail to memory. She stood on the bride’s left, wearing a formal-length gown of deep green and her long blonde hair done up on her head. Caleb’s jaw had practically hit the floor when she’d come down the aisle, and Ben’s reaction hadn’t been much more subtle. She was amazingly, incredibly beautiful. It was hard to believe he and Berry had turned out a child so perfect.

  As the recessional started, he tracked Alanna’s progress, feeling a twinge when she met Caleb in the center aisle and accepted the arm he offered. She looked older than her age, and so incredible. She was practically grown, and he’d missed it all.

  “Isn’t she beautiful?” a voice murmured in his ear.

  Glancing over his shoulder, he found Holly Flynn. “They all are,” he agreed. He let his gaze settle on Miss Agatha, wearing a pale green dress with a floppy-brimmed hat of the sort Emmaline had always favored, then Emilie, Alanna, Josie, and Gracie.

  “Miss Agatha asked me to tell you to be sure to come to the reception. It’s at the inn. Do you need directions?”

  He shook his head. Lynda had told him how to find it for their failed dinner date. He didn’t have much interest in going when she wasn’t there, but no point telling Holly that. It wasn’t as if anyone would miss him in this crowd.

  “Good,” Holly said with a smile. “Then we’ll see you there.”

  Once the wedding party was out of the sanctuary, most people stood around chatting. Feeling more like an outsider than ever, Ben left and headed down the block to his car.

  “Hey, Ben.”

  He turned to see Sophy hurrying to catch up. In her pale dress and with her blonde curls, she looked as young and lovely as Alanna. “I didn’t know you were coming to the wedding,” he remarked, pausing for her.

  “I wouldn’t have missed it for anything. Didn’t Miss Agatha look radiant? And Bud … They both looked so happy and so much in love.”

  “Bully for them,” Ben muttered.

  She gave him a measuring look. “I take it Lynda’s not back yet from visiting her parents.”

  “I didn’t know she had gone. Want a ride somewhere?”

  “Yes, to the inn, please. That was a quick change of subject there. Is Lynda a sore topic with you?”

  She’d definitely made his heart sore. “Yes, so don’t mention her again.”

  “Okay. Can we talk about Alanna?”

  He glanced at her before opening the car door for her. What did she know about Alanna? He’d mentioned his daughter to her as they were leaving the hospital, but she hadn’t picked up on it, or so he’d thought. Was she guessing, or had she heard some gossip?

  “Truthfully, Soph, I’m not much in the mood for talking at all. I’m just going to drop you off, then go on home.”

  “Oh, you can’t do that. In fact, you might say my job is to make sure you show up.”

  And who’d given her this job? he wanted to know as he slid behind the wheel. Had Agatha thought her request wouldn’t be enough? Had Holly decided his agreement had been less enthusiastic than she’d wanted, so she’d sent Sophy along as insurance?

  “Turn left at the first intersection,” she directed, and he obeyed. She sat quietly, her arm half out the open window, a serene look on her face. When was the last time he’d known such utter contentment? Probably never … until last Saturday, when he’d fallen asleep holding Lynda in his arms. That had been pretty damned peaceful.

  He should have known it wouldn’t last.

  To change the subject, he dredged up an old memory. “Emmaline had an angel she put on top of the Christmas tree every year that had a smile just like that. She wore a dress that color, and had curly blonde hair and—heck, put a pair of feathery wings on you, and you’d look just like her.”

  “Angels don’t need wings.”

  “Sure they do. How would they get around if they didn’t have wings?”

  “Well, feet work just fine most of the time.” She wiggled her feet on the floorboard, then smiled as if speaking to a child or a dim-witted adult. “They’re heavenly beings, Ben. They have heavenly powers.”

  “All the angels I’ve seen have wings.”

  “All the representations you’ve seen,” she corrected him. “None of the real angels you’ve run into have had them.”

  “Real angels,” he scoffed. As if such things existed.

  “They do.” When he gave her a sharp look, she smiled and shrugged. “They do exist. Trust me. I know. Turn left at the next intersection.”

  He did so, following the street to its end, then drove through a gate and along a narrow wooded lane. The inn sat at the end of the lane—a simple old farmhouse that had been expanded to several times its original size, but without losing its simplicity.

  When Ben would have pulled up to the porte cochere at the main entrance, Sophy gestured. “There’s a parking space over there.”

  “I’m dropping you off, remember?”

  “Oh, come on in and have a glass of champagne. At least give your best wishes to the happy couple. Miss Agatha would be hurt if you didn’t.”

  Miss Agatha would be surrounded by so many well-wishers that she couldn’t possibly notice he wasn’t among them. Still, since being alone in a crowd sounded less painful than being alone alone, he pulled into a space at the end of the gravel lot, and he and Sophy strolled toward the door.

  “Isn’t it romantic?” she asked, practically swooning over the lights, the flowers, the quiet music barely audible in the night. “Your dinner here with Lynda would have been so perfect if you hadn’t gotten arrested instead.”

  “Not arrested. Picked up for questioning. Trust me, there’s a difference.” The dinner would have been perfect, he was forced to admit. The terrace, where dozens of candles burned and the wedding cake presided from its own table, was just the place for an intimate dinner. From there they would have gone to her house for an intimate feast of another sort.

  “Hi, Ben.” Bree Aiken, from the motel, greeted him as they entered the lobby. “Wasn’t the wedding wonderful?”

  “Yeah,” he agreed. “Wonderful.” He turned to introduce Sophy and saw that she’d made a beeline for the far side of the sweeping staircase, where she was studying portraits on the wall by the time he caught up with her. “Don’t take off like that.”

  “Like what?” she asked innocently, but before he could respond, the first wave of guests came through the doors.

  He spent the next hour wishing he were elsewhere, wondering what had persuaded Lynda to go home, curious whether Janice had taken advantage of the opportunity to set up as many dates as she could with suitable men. Binghamton was full of candidates, since he was pretty sure Janice’s new definition of suitable was men who weren’t Ben Foster. Standing on the terrace, apart from the other guests, he wondered when Lynda would come home, and how much trouble she would go to to avoid him, and—

  “Hello, Ben.”

  Turning, he found himself face-to-face with Emilie Bishop. She offered her hand, and he accepted it with a wary glance around for her husband.

  “I was hoping to catch you before you left, but I was afraid I’d already missed you. Will you come inside so we can talk in private?”

  His mouth went dry. He wanted to say, sorry, but this wasn’t a good time. Too many people, to
o much noise, better wait until next week, next month, next year. But all he really said was, “All right.” He set his punch cup on the nearest table and followed her inside the inn and into the library. It opened off the lobby, and looked like every rich person’s library he’d ever seen, with the exception that the books in this one looked as if they’d actually been read. He didn’t care about the books, though, or the amazingly detailed woodwork, or the furniture. He just wanted to hear what Emilie had to say.

  She sat in a wingback chair, and he took a seat on the sofa. He couldn’t get comfortable, though. But why should he be comfortable when she was about to either give him some bit of hope, or take away what little had survived Lynda?

  “I realize this isn’t the ideal time or place to discuss this, but I also understand that you must be anxious to hear J.D.’s recommendation.” She smiled faintly. “I’ve lived with Berry’s kids for more than four years and have had custody of them most of that time. Sometimes I worry about Berry getting better, convincing a judge to return the children to her, and taking them off to another city, another state. Sometimes I don’t think I could bear it if that happened. I couldn’t love them more if I’d given birth to them, and I don’t think I could live without them.

  “But I never considered the possibility that you might show up. I just assumed that because you had no interest in being a father thirteen years ago, you never would. I didn’t consider that in those years, you would grow up and realize what’s important in life.”

  His fingers were knotted so tightly that the muscles began to cramp. He wanted to jump to his feet and pace, wanted to demand a blunt answer—yes, he could see Alanna, or no, he couldn’t. No explanations or rationalization. Just yes or no.

  “J.D. and I have spent much of the past few days talking. So have Nathan and I. It seems like an easy decision. A parent has a right to see his child. But when he abandons that child, he gives up his rights. We all make mistakes and deserve second chances, but do we deserve those second chances at our children’s expense?” She smiled faintly. “There are good arguments on both sides, and believe me, we’ve covered every one of them. Nathan’s not too happy with the idea of giving you access to Alanna. He’s not … um, impressed with your background. J.D. is a big believer in second chances. Family and forgiveness are important to him.”