Soon To Be Brides: The Marrying Macallister / That Blackhawk Bride

“Her first smile,” Caitlin said wistfully, then shook her head. “Don’t get me started again. I think the tissue box is empty.” She got to her feet. “I’ll give you my address and I’ll see you tomorrow night at six. Thank you again, Matt.”

Matt stood. “I’m looking forward to it…very much, Caitlin.”

After Matt had gotten Caitlin’s address, he watched as she collected the dish she’d brought her contribution to the potluck in, hugged Carolyn, tucked the precious pictures of the baby in her purse, then bid Marsha and Bud good-night at the door. Carolyn said her goodbyes, then Matt wandered toward the front door himself.

“Need any help cleaning up?” he asked Marsha and Bud.

“No, we’re fine,” Bud said. “It’s nice of you to give Caitlin a hand with the baby furniture, Matt.”

Matt shrugged. “No biggie.”

“Taking her out for pizza before you go shopping is a nice touch,” Marsha said, beaming. “You’re such a thoughtful guy, Matt MacAllister.”

“No,” he said, frowning. “I just happen to like pizza and haven’t had any in a while.”

“Mmm,” Marsha said, batting her eyelashes at him.

“Don’t start with me, Marsha. There is no room for matchmaking in the middle of a baby boom, which is what this trip will be, so just forget it. Bud, control your wife.”

“Fat chance of that, chum,” Bud said, laughing. “Wow. It just hit me. I’m going to have a wife and a daughter. Talk about being ganged up on by females in my own home.”

“It makes my heart go pitter-patter,” Marsha said. “Women rule.”

“I’m outta here,” Matt said, chuckling. “Thanks for a great evening. I really enjoyed it. Ah, life is full of challenges. Good night, new mommy and daddy.”

“Oh-h-h, listen to that,” Marsha said. “I’m going to go find a fresh box of tissues.”

Caitlin propped the two pictures of the baby against the lamp on the nightstand, then wiggled into a comfortable position in the bed where she could gaze at the photographs.

“Hello, my daughter,” she said, unable to curb her smile. “Are you Mackenzie, or are you Madison, Miss M.? I just don’t know yet, but I will when I see you, hold you, for the first time. Will you smile then? Or make me wait for that special moment?”

She kissed the tip of one finger, then gently touched each picture.

“I wish you knew that I’ll be there very soon to get you. Maybe an angel will whisper in your ear that your mommy is coming. You won’t have a daddy, sweetheart, but we’ll be fine, just the two of us, you’ll see.”

Caitlin turned off the light, sighed in contentment and drifted off to sleep within minutes.

Hours later Matt was still awake, staring up at the ceiling. No matter how many lectures he gave himself to knock it off, he fumed, his mind kept replaying the entire evening at Marsha and Bud’s over and over. He saw the beautiful expression of pure love on Caitlin’s face when she’d looked at her daughter’s photographs, and remembered the tears that had glistened in both Marsha and Bud’s eyes as they’d gazed at the picture of Grace.

What an unbelievable night it had been for the people in that room. Dreams were coming true for those who had waited so long to have them fulfilled. Incredible.

Matt sighed and slid both hands beneath his head. He had been included in everything that had happened this evening but…not quite. Circumstances dictated that he stand on the edge of the circle of sunshine those match pictures had created, congratulate the new parents, wish them well.

But none of those photographs declared him to be a daddy because that wasn’t his dream, his heartfelt desire, and he hadn’t completed the tons of paperwork and waited the seemingly endless months as the others had.

He was grateful to have witnessed such happiness, such joy, was very honored to know he was to be Grace’s godfather, was pleased he would be helping Caitlin, the lovely Caitlin, put the finishing touches on the nursery that would be waiting for Mackenzie or Madison when she arrived in her new home.

But… yeah, so okay, he was willing to admit that there had been flickers of chilling emptiness that had consumed him earlier. He’d been so aware of his… his aloneness, of the narrow focus of his life, had been forced to wonder if perhaps, just maybe, he was not only alone but might also be lonely.

“Ah, hell, come on, MacAllister, knock it off,” he said, pulling his hands from beneath his head and dragging them down his face. “That’s nuts.”

The structure of his existence was of his making, his choice. He was centered on a challenging and rewarding career at Mercy Hospital that gave him a great deal of satisfaction. Granted, it was a tad rough on his physical well-being, but he’d get a handle on that, take control of that aspect of it.

Sure, he wanted a family someday, a wife, kids, a home bursting at the seams with love and laughter. He’d take part in the whole program…change diapers, teach each munchkin in turn to ride a bike, mow the lawn, take out the trash, help with home-workand housework and read stories to sleepy bundles tucked safely on his lap. Yeah, he wanted all of that, plus a wife he’d love beyond measure and who would love him in kind.

Someday…but not now.

Hell, he was only thirty-two years old. He had plenty of time to join the rank and file of the MacAllisters who toted diaper bags to family gatherings. Plenty of time.

What had happened tonight at the Mathises’ house was perfectly understandable. He’d been caught up in the emotions of the people there. He’d felt a momentary sense of aloneness and…okay…loneliness simply because he was odd man out in what had been a rather unusual situation.

There. He’d figured it all out. It had just taken a bit of logical thinking to get his head on straight again. He could now go on the trip to China, enjoy the entire thing, spend time with the very lovely Caitlin Cunningham, then return home and shortly afterward return to the hospital and the career that gave him everything he needed in his life now.

His reputation for being one of the best public-relations directors of a large hospital was rock solid across the country, and he had several awards framed and hanging on his office wall. The name Matt MacAllister meant something in his field and he would continue to maintain that level of expertise.

Matt rolled onto his stomach, closed his eyes, mentally patted himself on the back for his rather genius-level thinking that had solved the jumbled maze in his mind, then drifted off to sleep.

But through the night he dreamed of Caitlin. He was standing next to her in a room where they were surrounded by babies, each holding up little arms toward them, wanting to be held, comforted, loved. Wanting to be taken home.

Chapter Three

The next day was another long stretch of hours at the hospital as Matt once again dealt with Homer Holmes, the note-taking attorney. Matt finally glanced at his watch and inwardly cheered.

“Time to wrap it up, Homer,” Matt said. “I have an important appointment to keep. In fact, we’ve covered everything that is pending. Starting tomorrow you’re on your own.”

“Listen, Matt,” Homer said. “I’ve been admiring that miniature antique scale you have on the corner of your desk.”

“The scale?” Matt said. “My grandfather gave that to me months ago. The workmanship is exquisite,don’t you think? The chains holding the two small trays have the exact number of links, you can see the intricate scrollwork on the base…even the two gold coins in that one tray are antiques. It was a very special gift from a remarkable man, and I treasure it.”

“That’s what I was getting at. It’s obviously worth a great deal of money, and I’m afraid I might bump it, send it toppling to the floor, harm it in some way. Don’t you think it would be a good idea to take it home during this time you’ll be away from the hospital?”

Matt shrugged. “I suppose I could but… No, I’ll just move it to the bookshelves against the wall. I like to be able to see it, and this is where I spend the majority of my time.”

Matt picked up the scale, crossed the room and set it carefully on a shelf on the bookcase.

“There,” he said. “Feel better?”

“Much,” Homer said, nodding. “Is it a family heirloom?”

“No.” Matt stared at the scale. “My grandfather chose it especially for me. He selected special gifts for each of his grandchildren. I’ve heard the story behind some of the presents, the fact that our grandfather was delivering an important message to the recipient with the gift.

“In my case, there’s no hidden message as far as I can figure out. It’s just an extremely rare and terrific present.” He looked at his watch again. “I’m out of here. Take good care of my baby while I’m gone.”

“Your…what?”

“The hospital. It’s where I direct all my energies, like a parent would toward a child and… Never mind. Bye.”

Matt strode from the room, leaving a rather bemused Homer behind.