The Only Solution(35)

The determination to look at it that way gave her new energy, and she  flew through the day, stopping only to warm up a can of soup for lunch  and to take her few houseplants to a neighbor. It wasn't much of a gift,  Wendy admitted, as the poor things needed to be nursed back to health  after their long period of neglect. But the woman seemed happy to see  her, and Wendy enjoyed the break and a cup of coffee while they chatted.

Then the charity people started coming to pick up donations. The couch,  chairs, and kitchen table were hauled away. Then the boxes and bags of  clothes and food were picked up. Finally the only furniture left  –   besides her bed, which was a family heirloom, and the rocker she wanted  to take home for Rory's new nursery  –  was the baby's crib and changing  table.

She had called a nearby church about the baby things. The other stuff  didn't matter so much, but Rory's crib and changing table held special  memories, and she didn't want to ship them off to an anonymous agency.  She'd hardly begun to explain her feelings to the pastor when he stopped  her. "There's a young couple I know," he said. "They've got almost  nothing, and their baby's due in a few weeks." He brought them over  himself, in a borrowed pickup truck, to get the furniture.                       
       
           



       

The young mother's face glowed when she saw the crib, and she reached  out to touch it with one finger as if it might disappear like a soap  bubble before her eyes. Then, her eyes full of consternation, she turned  to Wendy. "Did you lose your baby? I'm so sorry..."

"No," Wendy said hastily. "Oh, no. We just moved so far away that it doesn't make sense to ship these things."

That obviously made no sense to the woman, but she didn't press, and Wendy saw no need to explain.

"We can't afford very much, of course, but we'd like to pay you," the young man said.

Wendy started to shake her head, and then saw the pride in his eyes and  smiled. "All right. I'll charge you one picture of your baby. And I  won't negotiate, so don't try to talk the price down."

Just thinking about babies made her long for Rory. She'd called at least  once every day, of course, but though Mrs. Morgan said the baby grew  wide-eyed and stared at the telephone while Wendy talked to her, she  wouldn't make a sound at all. But in a day or two they'd be home.

And things would be different after this homecoming. Wendy hugged the  memories of last night close to her heart and waved goodbye from the  front steps as Rory's crib disappeared down the street.

She was packing the last of the Christmas ornaments when Mack came, and  automatically she looked at her watch. It was only mid-afternoon, and  the instant rush of happiness she felt at seeing him was mixed with  surprise.

He looked just as startled. "What happened to all the furniture?"

"There isn't any sense in hanging onto a half-worn-out couch and two  creaky chairs," Wendy said briskly, "so I gave them away before I had  time to get sentimental and talk myself out of it. Honestly, Mack, I've  been so efficient today I can hardly stand it."

He didn't smile at her joking tone.

"Did something go wrong with your meetings?" she asked quietly.

Mack shook his head. "We've done everything we can for now."

"Then it's a good thing I've been efficient. I think I can finish today, if you want to book a flight for tomorrow."

"I came to talk to you about that."

His tone frightened her. Wendy laid a delicate glass ornament carefully  into a nest of tissue paper. Her fingers were trembling too much to  trust herself to pick up another, and her stomach had twisted into  knots. "All right," she said, trying to keep the nervous edge from  creeping into her voice. "I'd ask you to sit down, but..."

Mack waved a hand at the almost-empty room. "I should have said something before you did all this. I'm sorry, Wendy."

"Sorry about what?" Her fear was filtering away, replaced by frustration.

"If you don't come back to Chicago with me, it's all right. I understand."

What was left of Wendy's fear burned up in a flash of fury. "Meaning, of  course, that you don't want me to come! Damn it, Mack, I just got rid  of everything I own and you  –  you do this to me?" Her voice was high and  tight, and her throat ached. It wasn't the material things that  mattered. But for him to reject her  –

"Of course I want you to come." The words were flat.

For Rory's sake, she reminded herself. But he didn't want Wendy. That was painfully clear.

She wanted to scream, What about last night?

The answer was instantly and painfully obvious. Last night he had  hesitated as if torn between his physical desires and the knowledge that  acting on those desires would be foolish, but Wendy had pushed him past  the point of common sense. He must have realized from her abandoned  responses that she loved him  –  and the prospect terrified him.

She shook her head. It was bad enough to know those things; she didn't want to hear him list them.

"Until we were at dinner last night," Mack said, "I'd never even  considered that you had a life here. A perfectly normal, attractive life  that you didn't want to give up. A life I manipulated you into  sacrificing."

His answer startled Wendy so much that her throat went dry. Was Mack  such a gentleman that even now he was willing to take the blame to save  her embarrassment? Or did he really believe what he was saying? "I  didn't even have a job, Mack. The life I gave up wasn't all that  alluring."                       
       
           



       

"But that state of affairs wouldn't have lasted long, would it?" Mack  said quietly. "You practically got a job offer last night, and there was  another one waiting in the mail."

She frowned and remembered Jed's letter. Mack had obviously seen it  –   she'd left it lying on the coffee table, so she wouldn't forget to call  her old boss today. But to make so much of it...

"A very good offer," he mused. "But in the meantime you'd committed  yourself to me, and when you came back and saw what was waiting for you,  it was too late." His voice was very gentle. "Marketing isn't just a  job for you, is it, Wendy? It's a gift  –  one you can't turn your back on  so easily."

She shook her head. Something wasn't right, but she couldn't clear her  head enough to think straight. "My gift  –  if that's what it is  –  didn't  bother you much a few weeks ago."

"I didn't know how important it was to you, then. I should have made it  my business to know, but I didn't. I thought it would be enough for you  to have Rory."

"Don't you think I should decide that for myself?" She took a deep breath. "At least be honest, Mack. What's really going on?"

He hesitated for so long that she didn't think he was going to answer at  all. Finally he said, "We can give this all we've got, but if we aren't  both contented, it's still not enough."

What a diplomatic way to say he was miserable. And how very like Mack to  be a gentleman about it. "Then that's all there is to say." She managed  to keep her voice level. "Thank you for being honest."

He nodded.

"What about Rory?"

"I hadn't thought that far yet. But better a breakup now than in a few years, don't you think?"

"I suppose so. But won't this mess up the adoption?" How desperate he  was to be free, she thought, to have put the baby's future at risk.

"I don't know." He cleared his throat. "I suppose we could share joint custody."

It would kill her, Wendy thought, to see him regularly and be reminded  each and every time that he didn't care for her. And yet she couldn't  turn her back on Rory. "Or you could let me bring her here, and you  could forget the whole episode."

"Wendy … "

"I know. We're right back where we started. Except that I'm a more  formidable opponent now, if it ends up in court. I can use your own  resources against you. Not very good judgment on your part."

"Not good at all, I'm afraid." There was no challenge in his voice, only sadness.

Still, it hurt her more than she was willing to admit. Wendy turned  away. "I'll have to think about it. What's best for Rory, I mean."

"I'm sorry, Wendy."

She heard him moving toward the door.

"Wait, Mack!" She pulled off her rings, Elinor's elaborate marquise  diamond and the matching wedding band, and held them for an instant,  clenched so tightly in her palm that the stones cut grooves in her skin.  She had put them on with hope, and worn them with growing confidence  –   but now those feelings were nothing more than dust.