I swallowed tightly, instinctively knowing this involved Macy.
"If you'll excuse me a moment?" I said to my friends. I set my linen napkin beside my plate and stood.
Sure enough, it was Macy. She stood at the entrance to the ballroom, arguing with one of the security guards. I blinked when I saw her. The dress she'd previewed for me the night before was nowhere in sight. Instead, she had on a housedress that resembled something my grandmother might have worn. She clutched a large purse to her chest as though it held every valuable she possessed.
"Macy," I said. "Is there a problem?" I directed the question to the guard.
"Michael! Oh, thank goodness you're here. Would you kindly inform this...this man," she said in righteous tones, "that I am not a street person trying to crash this dinner and that I'm your invited guest?"
The man employed by the hotel regarded me skeptically. "Is she with you?"
"She is." I placed my arm protectively around Macy's shoulders. "Do you have your dinner ticket?"
"I...I couldn't find it." She draped the oversize purse over her arm and let it dangle.
"Not to worry," I said, frowning at the security guard. "If need be, I'll purchase another."
"That won't be necessary," he said and walked off.
Seeing how upset Macy was and because the two of us had become the focus of attention--I gently eased her into the lobby and away from the ballroom.
"Oh, Michael, I'm so sorry."
"What happened?" I asked as I hugged her close.
She trembled in my arms. "The taping went much later than I expected," she whispered.
That much I'd figured out.
"I guess you didn't have time to change clothes." She must've been wearing what she'd had on for the commercial shoot.
Macy nodded, her face against my shoulder. "I didn't know I was doing two scenes. The first was the modernday grocery store and the second was from the 1960s. If I'd gone home and changed, I would've missed the dinner entirely."
"It's all right."
"No, it isn't," she said, sounding close to tears. "All I've done is embarrass you. I can't stay."
"Of course you can. I want you to meet my friends. I'm not embarrassed--I'm proud of you."
She shook her head. "I can't...I'm sorry. I've ruined everything."
Clasping her shoulders, I held her back from me and looked down into her face. "Don't be silly," I said, reaching for her hands. "Come inside with me and have some dinner. You'll feel better once you do."
"I can't.... I shouldn't have come, but I couldn't let you down...I just couldn't." She buried her face in her hands, and, seeing how distraught she was, I realized it would be even more upsetting for her to walk through the ballroom in full view of everyone.
"Do you want to go home?" I asked.
"Yes," she said in a high-pitched squeak.
Reluctantly, I nodded. I put my arms around her again, hoping to comfort and reassure her.
We stood entwined that way for perhaps a minute-- until we were interrupted by Ritchie, rushing out of the ballroom. "Michael! They're getting ready to announce the awards."
"Okay. I'll be there."
Macy broke the embrace and smiled up at me. "I'm fine. Go back inside."
Ritchie looked at Macy and then at me, then back at Macy. He pulled me aside. "This is Macy?" he asked as though he couldn't believe his eyes.
"She came directly from the commercial shoot," I told him.
"Oh." He regarded me thoughtfully. Then in a lower voice, he asked, "Hannah's Macy?"
"No," I said, "my Macy."
"Oh."
I'd rarely seen my brother-in-law at a loss for words, but Ritchie clearly wasn't sure what to say. He opened his mouth, closed it again, then turned away, disappearing inside the ballroom.
"That was my brother-in-law," I said. "I didn't think you wanted me to introduce you just yet."
She nodded mutely.
"I'll stop by the house when I'm finished here," I promised her. My proposal could wait for another time.
Macy stared up at me, her eyes bright with unshed tears, then flung her arms around my neck and kissed me hard. The tears were flowing in earnest when she released me. Before I could say anything she fled down the hallway.
Her tears, and the desperate way she'd kissed me, alerted me to the fact that something was wrong. I would have followed her if I hadn't heard my name over the speakers. When I stepped back into the ballroom, I saw people glancing in my direction and discovered I'd won the award.
The rest of the evening was like a bad dream. I kept looking for an excuse to leave, but I was thwarted at every turn. Because I was the winner, I had to remain after the banquet for a short interview with the Seattle Times. Then the photographer showed up. When I left the hotel, it was almost eleven.
But I didn't care how late it was. I was going to Macy's house.
Despite the positive events of the evening, I had an anxious feeling about Macy. As soon as I pulled up in front of her fairy-tale house, I noticed that all the lights were off. Only the porch was illuminated.
Undaunted, I climbed out of the car and hurried up the sidewalk. As I neared the front door, I saw an envelope taped to the screen door, addressed to me.
I couldn't forget that my relationship with Macy had begun with another letter. The one from Hannah.
Standing directly under the porch light, I ripped open the envelope and withdrew the single sheet of paper. July 2
Michael,
I can't do it. I'm so sorry.
Can't do what? I wondered.
Hannah made a mistake. I'm not the right kind of woman for you. I'll embarrass and humiliate you the way I did tonight. She hadn't embarrassed me. When I discovered I'd fallen in love with Macy, I'd accepted that she was herself, her quirky, madcap, independent self. Those were the very qualities I now found so attractive, so appealing. So different from me.
Best for whom? Not me. My initial reaction was to argue, except that I didn't have anyone to argue with. I don't want to see you again. I know you probably think I'm being emotional and that this is an impulsive decision on my part. It isn't. I'm taking the cats and leaving for a while. This is for the best.
I don't know when I'll be back but I can assure you it won't be soon. Put me out of your mind and look for a woman more suited to your world. And thank you, oh, thank you for loving me. I just wish I could be different. Macy
P.S. Sammy's with Harvey. I hope you'll keep an eye on them both. I read the letter a second time, crumpled it and dropped it on the porch before I turned and walked away.
Macy wanted to get out of my life. It was what I suspected she'd do after disappearing from my office that day--was it only two weeks ago? This was a pattern of hers. Uncompleted paintings and unfinished relationships.
Hannah had gotten it all wrong.
Chapter Thirty-Three
M ark's sister sat across from Leanne in the Lancasters' kitchen. It was after midnight and, while his parents had gone to their bedroom, Leanne doubted that either of them slept.
Mark had been missing in Afghanistan for a week--the longest week of Leanne's life. A day earlier, the country had celebrated the Fourth of July and the fireworks display had lit up the evening sky. The Lancaster family felt they had little to celebrate, and yet they'd stood with Denise's daughters and made a small display of patriotism for the sake of the children, who didn't fully understand what had taken place.
So far, the disappearance of two Americans in Afghanistan had been kept out of the news. For that Leanne was grateful, although she wasn't sure whether McPherson would be able to keep the incident under wraps much longer. She feared that in short order the information would be uncovered by the press. Then any privacy would be destroyed and the men's safety might well be compromised.
In contrast to last evening's loud fireworks, now there was only silence in the darkness of the summer night. The kitchen seemed to vibrate with stress as the two women sat there.
Denise had come to Spokane the Friday before the holiday. She and her daughters slept in the spare bedroom. Until they'd arrived, Leanne had slept there, but she'd given it up for her sister-in-law and nieces. For the past three nights she'd bunked down on the living room sofa.
She needed to go back to Seattle. She couldn't continue putting her life on hold. Although the company had been good about updating the family, there was no real news. Her sense of hope escalated with each phone call and then plummeted just as quickly. No one slept for more than a few hours at a time. The only positive note was that while they were together, they could buoy one another's spirits.
"I suppose we should talk about...you know," Denise said reluctantly, cradling her coffee mug with both hands.
"I suppose," Leanne said, although she'd rather not. Still, everything that had happened was directly connected to Denise. The two women had never discussed it, and Leanne didn't see how talking about it now would serve any useful purpose, but she couldn't refuse.
Denise squirmed in her chair, not meeting Leanne's eyes. After several uncomfortable seconds, she blurted out, "I didn't know what Mark had done!"
"I realize that," Leanne assured her calmly.
"I knew if I didn't get away, Darrin would do something terrible, that he'd hurt us. He...he had before. No one knew besides Mark. I couldn't tell Mom and Dad, couldn't ask them for help. I had nowhere else to turn. My parents had pleaded with me not to marry Darrin and they were right."
Leanne saw that Denise's hands were clenched and her knuckles had gone white. "I've wanted to kick myself a thousand times for my rebellious attitude. I thought they were just being overprotective. Daddy disliked Darrin the moment they met."
So had Leanne. The man was manipulative, selfabsorbed, domineering and irrational. She'd only met Denise's husband once, and she'd immediately assessed his personality. Mark's sister had been blinded by infatuation--or, as she'd hinted, by immaturity. Mark hadn't liked Darrin any more than Leanne had, but in his unswerving loyalty to Denise he'd defended her choice.
"At the time," Denise was saying, "I figured no man would ever be good enough for daddy's little girl, so I ignored his advice." She hung her head, and her long, straight, brown hair fell forward. "I've paid dearly for that."
Mark had, too, but Leanne prevented herself from saying so. The one concrete thing Denise had done to help her brother had been to plead for a lesser sentence. Because of that, Mark had gotten a year in prison instead of five. Still, the price had been far too high and, even now, Mark continued to pay.
"You have every right to be angry with me," Denise said. "I am," Leanne told her frankly, "but I'm trying to forgive you." It wasn't easy, though, and Denise obviously understood that.
"I haven't forgiven myself. Trust me, if there was a way to relive the past I'd do it." She shook her head. "If Mark's--"
"Don't say it," Leanne insisted.
"Okay," Denise said. "But I believe he's alive. I can feel it--can't you?"
Unfortunately, Leanne couldn't. All she felt was terror and fear, pressing on her chest like bricks.
Denise darted her a look. "I'm not sure if anyone told you, but Darrin's in prison now for assaulting a woman he dated after our divorce."
