Hannah's List (Blossom Street #7)(81)

family. He'd stood by Mark, hired a good attorney for his

son, helped his daughter settle into a new life and remained

the bulwark of strength they all relied on. But this--the

thought of losing Mark, his only son--was more than

even he could bear.

"I'm on my way," Leanne whispered.

After a long pause, he whispered back. "Thank you."

Chapter Thirty

Macy and I never really got a chance to talk in any detail about why she'd suddenly disappeared from my office or where she'd gone the previous Friday. I thought it had something to do with one of her many au

ditions. But then the pizza arrived and the two of us joined Harvey and chatted happily over dinner and beer. When we'd finished, I helped clean up and then we went to Macy's to feed the animals. I'd never considered myself a cat person, but I realized it was because I hadn't been around them very often. I was becoming fond of Macy's three, and they seemed to reciprocate the sentiment. Sammy had accepted me, too, so I was friends with all the furry denizens of 255 Jackson Avenue, all the creatures who seemed to understand that I loved Macy as much as they did.

Once they were fed, Macy and I cuddled on her sofa and watched television. Instead of talking about her insecurities, trying to deal with the differences between us, we kissed. Soon coherent thought vanished. Soon all I could think about was how good it felt to have this woman in my arms. This warm, whimsical, vibrant woman.

My feelings for Macy had intensified since her accident. In the past few days, I'd found that my thoughts constantly turned toward her: what she was doing, who she was rescuing--even what she was humming. She's such a natural with people; kids and animals love her. Macy's impulsive and nonconformist, yet that's all part of her appeal.

Unlike Macy, I rarely act on impulse, but I did the next Tuesday morning. Macy had a radio spot she was recording today; yesterday she'd had another audition--a callback, she'd told me proudly. I wanted to give her a gift; I wanted her to know how glad I was that she'd come into my life. The idea of replacing her bicycle occurred to me, and I remembered the small shop where I'd purchased the bikes for Hannah and me.

As I'd hoped, they were still in business. I called the store and described Macy's unique personality; Mel Wellborn, the owner, laughed and said he had just the bike for her. I looked at the picture on his Web site and had to agree. It was pink with orange tassels on the handlebars and limegreen pedals. Apparently, a clown had special-ordered it and then changed his mind. Mel quoted a price that made my head spin, but I couldn't refuse. The picture on the Internet proclaimed that this was the perfect bike for Macy, so I bought it and was told I could pick it up that evening.

I called her during my lunch break. Fortunately--since, predictably, she didn't have a cell phone--she hadn't left for the studio yet. "Are you going to be home tonight?" I asked.

"Yes..." The hesitation in her voice gave me pause. "I'd like to stop by."

"Okay."

"Are you sure you aren't too busy?" I asked.

"Michael, I want to see you."

"I can come another night if you prefer."

"No...no. I have something I'm dying to tell you." Her voice bubbled with excitement.

"Tell me now," I urged.

"I want to wait until I see you. This is just the most wonderful thing that's happened to me since...since I met you."

Her words brought me a sense of contentment. "Meeting you has been wonderful for me, too, Macy."

Macy went from effusive to silent. "Do you mean that, Michael?" she asked after a moment.

"With all my heart."

She was quiet again.

"What time will you be home?" I asked.

"The earliest I can make it is six--make that six-thirty in case I'm late leaving the studio. I really am trying to be on time, you know."

"I do know," I assured her.

After a few words of farewell, I hung up the phone, but my hand stayed on the receiver, as though I could hold on to that connection with Macy.

After more than a year of lonely grief, of self-imposed isolation, I found that I craved the company of others. Craved evenings with Macy and her menagerie of people and pets, playing poker with my friends, laughing again. Because of Macy I'd stepped out of the shadows.

At the end of the day I left the office as early as possible, then drove straight to the bicycle shop to get Macy's gift. Mel was an older guy who, like many small-business owners, offered great personal service. I hadn't considered how I'd transport the bike, so I had to purchase a bike carrier for the car, which I hoped Macy and I would put to good use.

Mel installed the carrier, and I loaded up the bike, driving first to the wine boutique, then to Macy's house. I could hardly wait to see her face suffused with delight when she saw this crazy bike.

Her car was parked outside, so I knew she was home. I pulled in behind her. These days I smiled when I saw her house with the bright red shutters and the white picket fence. Even now, it looked like something out of a fairy tale to me. I could believe that one day I'd find Sleeping Beauty inside having tea with Cinderella--and Macy.

Before I'd climbed out of the car, Macy opened her front door and dashed down the steps. By the time I made it through the gate, she'd launched herself into my embrace, twining her arms around my neck. I grabbed her by the waist and swung her around.