If Wishes Were Horses. Carolyn McSparren

Чтение книги онлайн.

СКАЧАТЬ who says I’d want to stay under those circumstances? I could always get another job.” She began to polish harder, making tight little whorls on the glass.

      Mike felt a jolt. Melba Hannaford had only been with them for a little over two years, but from the beginning he’d never thought of her as an employee. She’d seen too much of their lives, been too much a part of the bad times. He cleared his throat and moved to the window. His hands worked at his sides. When he spoke, his voice sounded colder than it had before. “No doubt you could. You are extremely competent.”

      “That nonsense won’t work with me,” she said. “I know you too well. But sooner or later Pat is not going to need either of us, you know.”

      “That won’t happen for years.” He felt much more relief than he would admit. “And I don’t plan to marry anyone until I am absolutely positive that it will be the right thing for all of us.”

      “I would never presume to tell you who to many,” she said. “But you should not remain celibate for the rest of your life.”

      “Who says I’m celibate? And how would you know?” He smiled as he turned and saw the color rise in her cheeks.

      “I did not say chaste, Mr. Whitten. Look up celibate in the dictionary. It merely means unmarried, whatever you young people think. All I’m saying is that once Pat goes off to college and starts making a life for herself, you are going to find yourself very much alone.”

      He walked over to the cabinet in the corner and pulled a bottle of light beer out of the small refrigerator. He leaned against the closed door, popped the top and took a deep swig. “The wrong woman would be a hell of a lot worse for Pat than celibacy.”

      “So find the right one. For both of you.” Mrs. Hannaford sat on the black leather chair and propped her feet in their shining white tennis shoes on the glass-topped coffee table. “Oh, that feels good.”

      Mike sat across from her and propped his Top-Siders on the other side. “You don’t think Rachelle is the right one?”

      “You’re the one who’s got to live with her if you marry her.”

      “True enough.” He took another long swig of his beer, then dropped his head back and closed his eyes. Pat’s exuberance wore him out.

      “Hmmph.” Mrs. Hannaford pulled herself to her feet and stalked off to the kitchen.

      “One more thing,” Mrs. Hannaford spoke from the kitchen doorway. “What on earth did you do to that blue suit you were wearing?”

      Mike laughed. “You do not want to know.”

      “Indeed.” Mrs. Hannaford slammed the door behind her.

      All his women seemed to be slamming doors on him tonight.

      Mike was alone with his thoughts. He tried to conjure up Rachelle’s elegant face. Instead, he found himself staring at a vision of Liz Matthews, dirty face, freckles, wild hair and all. He blinked and sat up.

      She was the last woman in the world for him. She was so different from Sandi. He turned so that he could see the vibrant portrait above the fireplace. The woman whose eyes met his was darkly sleek, almost fiercely beautiful. Even in a big blow on Puget Sound in their sailboat, she’d always managed to stay neat. Until that final afternoon. He sighed and closed his eyes against that terrible image.

      Every woman he’d ever dated since Sandi’s death had possessed that same elegance.

      So why should Liz Matthews with her crooked nose and her grubby jeans attract him? She was so damned sure of herself, so career oriented. She crashed into his life like a freight train.

      He set the empty beer bottle down on the coffee table as the realization hit him. Damn. All those qualities were exactly like Sandi. She’d spend all weekend designing one of her fancy Puget Sound houses and forget to eat or sleep. She dragged him to art galleries and theater and ballet and the opera—and taught him to love all of it. She’d exploded his miserable life like a rotten melon.

      Four years out of Yale he’d been bored with making money, fed up with the ruthless negotiation and cliffhanger days when ten minutes might make the difference between a million lost and a million won. He’d needed something—or someone—new in his life.

      He remembered the night he first saw her. He’d been alone, as usual, propping up the wall of the office reception room while a cocktail party raged around him, waiting until he could go home without seeming too rude.

      She wore a loose red silk dress and the highest heels he’d ever seen outside of a topless bar. She stood out like a peony among all those navy and gray suits. Her long black hair was pulled back tight in a heavy bun on the back of her head. She caught him gaping at her, worked her way through the crowd until she was close enough to lay her hand on his arm. She said, “Do you believe in love at first sight?”

      He stammered, “I do now.”

      He took her to bed two hours later, and six weeks later they were married. She was two years older than he, but that made no difference. They had six years of happiness. He bought her a forty-six-foot sailing sloop. Her career as an architect took off. He regained his pleasure in the money game. They seemed to live in a golden glow where everything they attempted turned out perfectly.

      It had ended in four hours on a rainy Friday afternoon. She’d gone into premature labor, had an emergency C-section and burst a blood vessel in her brain that killed her twenty minutes later and left him with a two-pound baby daughter that he never intended to see.

      He’d felt only rage. Rage at himself for giving in to her and getting her pregnant, rage at the child who had killed her, at Sandi for leaving him with this tiny little thing on his hands, at the doctors, the hospital, heaven itself.

      He sailed their sloop out into the Sound so that he could open the sea cocks, sink the boat and join his wife.

      He’d never doubted that it was Sandi who stopped him as he reached for the first plug. He turned the boat around, sailed back to the dock and drove at once to the hospital. He stood outside the neonatal intensive care unit looking at his blue-black stick figure of a daughter as she fought for her life. She was the ugliest small animal he’d ever seen.

      As he stood staring in at his child, Sandi gave him her final gift. She filled his heart with love for this child for whom she had died. He sat down with his back against the wall and howled so loudly that two interns tried to sedate him.

      He’d had his one great love. He couldn’t expect another. In the years since, he’d only sought to find a friend, a colleague, an ally to share his life and help raise Pat. Most marriages had considerably less going for them than friendship and collaboration.

      Liz Matthews wasn’t his ally or colleague, and she didn’t act as though she’d ever consider him a friend. Yet she stirred his blood. He felt a tremor of disloyalty to Sandi, then he seemed to hear Sandi’s laughter. She never let him get away with nonsense like that.

      Suddenly he had to get out of the apartment, drive. somewhere, anywhere. He told Mrs. Hannaford he’d be back in an hour or so and escaped from the apartment as though he were being chased by the devil himself.

      “TRAVELLER’S MY PONY,” Pat screamed and started up the ladder to the hayloft.

      “Get СКАЧАТЬ