Any Sunday, page 13
“All right,” he said, struggling not to respond to the anger in her voice. “That’s true, but I was looking for a way to see you again, and buying the car seemed a perfect solution.”
“It was an expensive one, too, don’t you think?”
“I didn’t care.”
“This may surprise you, Sam Bretton, but I care. In fact, I care a great deal. I don’t want your charity. The next time you want to throw money away, give it to cancer research.”
“It wasn’t charity!” he shouted.
Marjorie ignored him, clenching her hands into tight fists at her sides. “What was it about me that attracted you in the first place?” She didn’t give him a chance to respond as she hurried on. “There’s nothing that makes me any different than a thousand other women who parade through your office.”
Drawing a calming breath, Sam waited a moment before answering. “This conversation isn’t getting us anywhere. I suggest—”
“You can’t answer me, can you, Sam?”
“I think it would be best if I left and gave you a chance to calm down.”
“I don’t need any time!” she shouted, and to her horror, her voice cracked.
Unable to see her cry and not do something to ease the pain, Sam took a step toward her and held out his arms. “Kitten, listen…”
“Don’t call me that!” she cried, pointing at him and retreating several steps. “Or I’ll…I’ll…” She couldn’t think of anything to threaten him with. “Or I’ll scream,” she said finally.
“Or worse yet, you might cook for me.”
Marjorie’s eyes widened with the pain his words inflicted. “Just leave, Sam. The next time I need someone to rescue me, I’ll give you a call. But don’t wait around for me to phone. It might astonish you to learn that I’m a capable human being.”
His frustration was nearly overwhelming, and Sam paused to rub his hand along the back of his neck. “I didn’t mean that wisecrack about your cooking.”
Her back stiffened with resolve. “No? Well, I meant every word I said,” she responded coolly, struggling to maintain her crumbling composure.
“No, you don’t. You love me. You need me.”
He was so confident, so sure of himself, that Marjorie wanted to kick herself for being so gullible. The signs had been there from the beginning, and she’d refused to see them, refused to believe them. Her love for Sam had blinded her to the truth. She was a charity case to him in the same way that kitten had been all those years ago. He might believe he felt something for her now, but time would prove him wrong. He honestly believed she couldn’t get by without him.
“Marjorie, I’m not exactly sure what’s going on in that wonderfully crazy mind of yours, but if you want me to tell you that I associated you with that lost kitten, then I’ll admit as much—but only in the beginning.”
The room swayed, and she reached out a hand in an effort to maintain her balance. Briefly she closed her eyes. “You admit it?”
“Yes. But only in the beginning,” he repeated softly. “You were so fragile, so afraid, and there was no one there for you when you were ill.”
“Do I hear violin music in the background?” she taunted. It dented her considerable pride to hear Sam refer to her in those terms, though, to be fair, she remembered how she’d clung to him, begging him to stay with her. That had been a low point in her life, and now he was using it against her. Worse, he hadn’t an inkling of why she was so offended, and she’d thought he knew her so well.
“Later I was attracted to your courage,” he added, ignoring her gibe. “And your pride and your candor. I discovered that I spent half my time thinking about you. When you were discharged, I racked my brain for days trying to think of a way to see you again. I wanted to help you—and I finally came up with the idea of buying the car. By then I knew you were special.”
“As I explained before, I don’t need your charity.”
“It wasn’t charity, not in the way you think!” Sam shouted, losing his patience. “The only thing I did was help you, and you make it sound as if I’ve committed some terrible crime.”
As far as Marjorie was concerned, he had.
“I was in love with you then—only I didn’t know it. And now I know I love you. More than I thought it was possible to love another human being. If you don’t want me to call you Kitten again, then fine, I won’t.”
A tense silence wrapped itself around them. She couldn’t believe that she was having the most important discussion of her life while standing in her kitchen waiting for the kettle to boil.
Sam’s level gaze trapped hers from across the room. His anger had vanished as quickly as it had come, leaving his face an impassive mask of pride. Abruptly, he spun away, his impatient strides carrying him to the door. He paused and turned toward her.
“There’s a diamond ring in my pocket, Marjorie. I’d planned to ask you to be my wife.”
Calmly she met his gaze. She wanted Sam. The temptation to swallow her doubts and dismiss her pride nearly overwhelmed her. She would have, too, if she hadn’t remembered what his mother had said about him losing interest in the kitten after a while. He had his friends, his mother had said. There was nothing to guarantee that anything would be different when it came to her, that within a few months he would regret having married her.
“I think you already know my answer to that,” she said, looking everywhere but at the huge diamond he now held in his hand.
“You’re right—I do know.” With that, he slipped the ring back inside his pocket. Then he turned and walked away from her in lightning-quick strides.
The door slammed. Feeling incredibly weak, Marjorie cupped her hands over her face and sagged against the counter.
Ten
Confounded, Marjorie stepped out of her manager’s office and paused, her hand lingering on the doorknob. Her mind was racing with the details of her conversation with Bud.
“Well, what happened?” Lydia wanted to know. She walked around the customer-service counter and stood expectantly in front of her friend. When Marjorie didn’t immediately respond, Lydia waved her hand in front of her bemused face.
The action captured Marjorie’s attention. “I got a promotion,” she said, shaking her head, still befuddled. Starting the first of the month, her Sundays would be free. For weeks her schedule had conflicted with Sam’s. Now, when it didn’t matter if she had the day off, her Sundays were open. Life was filled with such ironies.
“A promotion!” Lydia cried. “Cool!”
“I can’t believe it myself,” Marjorie returned, and shook her head in an attempt to dispel her pensive mood. She’d been numb for days; nothing seemed to penetrate the dull ache that had ruled her thoughts and actions since she’d last seen Sam. Not even this promotion, which would have given her plenty of reason to celebrate a week earlier, could penetrate the fog of her sadness.
“What did Bud say to Al Swanson?” Lydia asked next, her eyes wide with curiosity.
“I’m not sure…He’s still in there.” Marjorie had noted how disgruntled he’d looked when Bud announced her promotion. That alone had been worth the apprehension she’d suffered all morning before the meeting.
“And you thought you were going to get fired.” Lydia flashed her a triumphant smile and shook her head knowingly. “What did I tell you?”
“Not to worry,” Marjorie quoted back to her friend in a monotone, and rolled her eyes toward the ceiling.
Lydia was obviously pleased that her words had proven to be prophetic. “Now all I have to do is straighten out this mess between you and Dr. Sam.”
Marjorie stiffened at the mention of his name. “Don’t even try,” she said forcefully. “As far as I’m concerned, the subject of Sam Bretton is off-limits.”
“What did he do, for heaven’s sake?”
“Lydia, I already told you, I refuse to discuss the matter!” Purposeful strides carried her across the showroom floor. Once again she was running away, doing anything she could to escape the emotional pain that blossomed when anyone asked her about Sam. Before she’d met him, she had prided herself on her ability to confront unpleasantness. Since her last evening with him, she found it easier to hide than to deal with her feelings.
Undeterred, Lydia followed her friend. “Hey, we’re talking about the man who had you waltzing around here with your head in the clouds not more than a week ago. Something happened, and I want to know what it was.”
“Lydia, please, just drop it.” The pain was so fresh that even hearing someone casually mention him produced an ache that came all the way from her soul.
She walked into her office and braced her hands against the side of her desk, inhaling deeply, praying the action would alleviate the surge of emotional pain. She’d done a great deal of thinking since the last time she’d seen Sam. As much as she hated to admit it, she needed him. The realization that she depended on him hadn’t been easy to swallow. She loved him, but she hated to think she was nothing but the subject of his charity.
Following close on Marjorie’s heels, Lydia came into the office and shut the door. “Listen, I’ve tried to be a good friend and—”
“I know,” Marjorie said, cutting her off. “And I appreciate that, but there are some things that are better left alone.” She couldn’t deal with Lydia’s questions and answer her own. She whirled around to confront her friend. “And this is one of them.”
Lydia hesitated then. “If you’d just tell me what he did that was so terrible, then I could hate him, too.”
Marjorie could deal with any multitude of problems—irate customers, unreasonable loan officers, cheating salesmen—but her friend’s persistent inquisitiveness had finally worn her down.
She crossed her arms over her chest and exhaled a slow, laborious breath. “He called me Kitten.”
Before she could go on, Lydia’s mouth fell open in astonished disbelief. “That was it?”
“No. He asked me to marry him, too.”
A pregnant pause followed as Lydia’s eyes narrowed in speculative scorn. “You’re right,” she finally said in mock disgust. “The man should be sent before a firing squad. He wanted to marry you. Well, of all the nerve!”
All Marjorie could manage was a sharp nod.
Lydia ran her fingertips over the top of the desk, avoiding eye contact. “Marjorie…when was the last time you had a decent vacation?”
“About ten years ago. Listen, I can see what you’re getting at. You think I’ve gone off the deep end, and maybe I have. I don’t know anymore. I…turned Sam down, but my reasons are my own. Just accept that I know what I’m doing, and it’s for the best, and kindly leave it at that.”
“I can’t believe you turned Dr. Sam down.” Lydia glared at her as though Marjorie should be psychoanalyzed that very minute. “The most marvelous man I’ve ever known, and he wanted to marry you and…”
“And I refused him,” Marjorie said flatly.
“You’re not going to see him again?”
“No…I don’t think so.”
“And that’s the way you want it?” The incredulousness was back in Lydia’s voice, raising it half an octave.
Marjorie couldn’t answer. Lying by saying “yes” to Lydia was one thing, but trying to fool herself was another. She was slowly shriveling up without Sam. Her days felt like empty, wasted years. The hours dragged, especially when she was home alone. The walls seemed to close in around her, suffocating her. Normally she enjoyed her own company, but since she’d been without Sam, even the everyday routines seemed useless. The happy expectancy was missing from her life, as was the excitement. Without him, her future looked astonishingly bleak.
It would have been far better, she decided, if she’d never met the man. Again and again she’d gone over the events of that last evening with his family, seeking a solution that would salvage both his pride and her own, some misunderstanding about the way he saw her. But he had made that impossible. He’d admitted openly that he pitied her, and she was scared to death of the fact that she needed him. What a mess this had turned out to be.
Lydia’s steady gaze lacked any sign of sympathy. “It’s your decision.”
Marjorie’s eyes held her friend’s. “I know.”
Lydia headed out of the office. “Be miserable, then. See if I care.”
With Lydia gone, the emptiness inside the small office was oppressive. Dejected, Marjorie sat at her desk and read over some paperwork she’d been putting off. However, nothing held her attention for long, and within moments she was silently staring at the walls, her thoughts focused on Sam.
Suddenly Lydia burst into her office and excitedly clapped her hands. She marched around Marjorie’s desk to confront her face-to-face.
“Lydia! What’s going on?”
“You’re going to love this. I certainly do.”
Sam. Marjorie’s heart rocketed into space. He’d come for her. He’d decided that his life would be an empty wasteland without her. He’d realized he honestly needed her.
“Sam?” Marjorie asked expectantly, half rising from her chair. “He’s here?” Oh please, God, she prayed, let him be here.
“Sam? Heavens no.” Lydia gave her an odd look and shook her head. “It’s Al Swanson. Bud just gave him the ax.”
“Bud fired Al Swanson? You mean…he’s leaving?”
“From the way he’s packing up his things, I’d say he can’t wait to get out of here. He’ll be gone in five minutes.”
“Oh.” Marjorie was surprised by how little elation she felt at the news. A week ago, her behavior would have rivaled her friend’s. Now all she felt was a cloying sense of disappointment that Sam hadn’t come for her. Discouraged, she reclaimed her seat.
“Apparently,” Lydia went on to explain, “one of Al’s schemes backfired on him. Bud found out about it, and Al’s out of here.”
Marjorie had known from the first that Al was his own worst enemy, and that, given enough rope, he would do himself in without any help from anyone else.
Crossing her arms, a subdued Lydia paused to study her friend. “You thought Sam had come to talk to you?”
Marjorie’s fingers tightened around the pencil she was holding; it was a miracle it didn’t snap in two. “It wouldn’t have done any good.”
“Hey, he could have withdrawn his marriage proposal. That might have settled things, don’t you think?”
Marjorie shook her head. “Lydia, please. I don’t want to talk about him.”
“Hurt too much?” her friend asked, lowering her voice into a soft, coaxing tone.
The answer was so obvious that the question didn’t require a response. Marjorie was lost without Sam, but she would get over him in time. The only question that remained was how long it would take. A lifetime, her heart told her, but she refused to listen.
* * *
—
Two days later, a cocky smile curving her lips, Lydia sauntered into Marjorie’s office, her hands clasped behind her back.
Pretending she’d been interrupted, Marjorie glanced up from the report she’d been trying to read. “You look like the cat that just swallowed the canary.”
“Really?” Lydia swayed back and forth on the balls of her feet. “I have a tasty tidbit of information, if you’re interested.”
“About Al Swanson?” The details of what had happened between the salesperson and the manager had been the favorite topic of conversation with the other staff members ever since his firing. The rumors had been flying around the dealership like combat planes, dropping bombs of speculation.
Lydia shook her head. “What I have to tell you involves a certain doctor, but according to you, I’m not supposed to mention his name.”
“Sam?” Marjorie’s heart stopped, then pounded frantically against her ribs.
“The one and only.”
The temptation to strangle Lydia was powerful. Marjorie returned her gaze to the report. “I refuse to play your games.”
“Okay,” Lydia announced with typical nonchalance. “If you don’t care, then far be it from me to announce that the very doctor in question happens to be in this building at this precise minute.”
Marjorie’s gaze froze. “Here?”
“Not more than twenty yards from this office door, if you must know.”
The papers Marjorie had been holding slipped from her fingers and fell to the top of her desk. Uncaring, she left the scattered sheets there.
“But you are apparently over Dr. Sam,” Lydia commented, studying the ends of her polished nails, “so it would be best if you stayed holed up in here and did your best to pretend he isn’t anywhere around.”
Without realizing what she was doing, Marjorie stood, her knees barely strong enough to keep her upright.
“I don’t mind telling you,” Lydia said, grinning, “I’m having a difficult time not giving Dr. Sam a piece of my mind. The man is obviously a pervert.”
Marjorie blinked, sure she’d misunderstood her friend. “Sam’s nothing of the sort.”
“Imagine Dr. Sam wanting to get married,” Lydia continued with a sigh. “Doesn’t he realize how old-fashioned that is? A woman should live with a man fifty, maybe sixty, years before making that kind of commitment. Dr. Sam expects too much.”
As best she could, Marjorie ignored her friend’s sarcasm. “Sam’s here?”
Smiling unabashedly, Lydia nodded. “You’ll see him the minute you walk out of this office.”
Nothing could have kept Marjorie where she was.
As Lydia had claimed, Sam was in the dealership, standing at the service counter. For a solid minute Marjorie was unable to breathe. He looked tired, overworked, hassled. He wasn’t taking care of himself, and he looked as though he’d lost weight. As if drawn by a magnet, she walked to his side.
