Marriage On The Cards: Marry Me, Mackenzie! / A Proposal Worth Millions / Heart Surgeon, Hero...Husband?

After a pause, Rayna said in her “let’s meditate” voice, “I was just going to say—don’t forget that we’re always here for you, anytime, no matter what.”

“Oh. Sorry. Thank you,” Mackenzie said. “I’ll be by to pick up Hope after I’m done.”

Mackenzie hung up with her friends and then got out of the car. She stood by her car for several minutes, staring at Dylan’s condo, before she forced herself to get the show on the road. Stalling wouldn’t help. She needed to face this conversation with Dylan head-on and get it out of the way.

Mackenzie took a deep breath in and knocked on the door. This time, unlike the last time she stood in this spot, Dylan opened the door seconds after she knocked.

“Come on in.” Dylan stepped back and opened the door wider.

Mackenzie walked, with crossed arms, through the door and into Dylan’s world. She noticed, more so than she had the first time she was here, how neat and organized Dylan’s home was. His home was sleek, expensive and masculine: the ultimate bachelor pad. It was a sharp contrast to her 1930s Spanish-style Balboa Park rental with an interior decor that was cobbled together with flea-market finds and garage-sale bargains. The lives they lived, the lives they had built for themselves, couldn’t be more different.

“Can I get you something to drink?” Dylan stood several feet away from her, hands hidden in his front pockets. He looked different today. The boyish spark was gone from his eyes. The features of his face were hardened, his mouth unsmiling. Today, he seemed more like a man to her than he ever had before.

“No. Thank you.” Mackenzie shook her head, wishing she were already on the back end of this conversation.

“Let’s talk in the den.” Dylan slipped his left hand out of his pocket and gestured for her to walk in front of him. “After you.”

Mackenzie waited for Dylan to sit down before she said, “I’m not sure where to begin...”

“Why don’t we start with an answer to my question.” Dylan was determined not to let this conversation spiral out of control. He had always been known for his cool head and he wanted to keep it that way.

“I think you’ve already figured out the answer to your question, Dylan. But if you need to hear me say it, then I’ll say it,” Mackenzie said in a measured, even voice. “Hope is your daughter.”

Instead of responding right away, Dylan stood up and walked over to the large window that overlooked the ocean. He stared out at the waves and rubbed his hand hard over his freshly shaven jawline. With a shake of his head, he turned his back to the window.

“I’m just trying to wrap my mind around this, Mackenzie. It’s not every day that my friend’s sister turns up with my kid.”

“I understand.” Mackenzie wished that she could stop the sick feeling of nerves brewing in her stomach.

“How long have you known that she’s mine, Mackenzie?” Dylan asked pointedly. “Have you always known...or did you think that she was your ex-boyfriend’s child?”

Mackenzie’s stomach gurgled loudly. Embarrassed, she pressed her hands tightly into her belly. “I’ve always known.”

“How?” Dylan asked quietly, his face pale. “How did you know?”

“You were the only one I’d slept with in months, Dylan. It couldn’t’ve been anyone else but you.”

Dylan leaned back against the window; he felt off balance. “That’s not what I expected you to say.”

“It’s the truth....” Mackenzie said.

Dylan didn’t respond; he didn’t move. He didn’t trust himself to speak, so he didn’t.

“I have a question for you.” Mackenzie turned her body toward him. “What made you think she was yours?”

“The bump...on her ear. It matches mine.”

“Oh...” Mackenzie said faintly. Dylan had always worn his hair long when they were kids—she never noticed that birthmark before.

“And then there was this.” Dylan retrieved the photo album, opened it and held it out for Mackenzie to take.

“Look familiar?” Dylan pointed to the picture of his aunt Gerri.

Mackenzie nodded, stared closely at the picture.

“Who needs a DNA test, right?” Dylan nodded toward the picture.

Mackenzie stared at the old black-and-white photograph. “This little girl...she’s the spitting image of Hope.” Mackenzie looked up. “Who is she?”

“That’s my aunt Gerri when she was nine.”

“I remember your aunt Gerri. We went to their horse farm a couple of times. She played the organ for us.”

Dylan’s jaw set. “Hope should be able to remember my aunt Gerri, too. Uncle Bill’s the closest thing to a father I’ve ever had. He deserved the chance to know my daughter.”

Dylan’s well-crafted barb hit its intended mark. And it hurt. Because Mackenzie knew that he was right. Silently, she carefully closed the photo album and handed it back to Dylan.

Dylan put the photo album on the coffee table and sunk down on the couch a cushion away from Mackenzie. He leaned forward, rested his elbows on his legs and cradled his head in his hands.

“So...” Dylan said quietly. “We both know she’s mine. The next question I’d like answered is...why did you know ten years ago and I’m only finding out now?”

Mackenzie leaned away from Dylan. “I found out I was pregnant really early on. I’m regular...like clockwork. So when I didn’t get my period after the wedding...I knew.”

“And you didn’t think it was important to share this information with me, because...?”

“I was going to tell you. It never occurred to me not to tell you.”

“But you didn’t...” Dylan lifted his head, looked at her. “Why not?”

“Jett told me that you were back with Christa...”

“Jett knew?”

“No. Not back then. And not until long after the two of you had already lost touch.”

Dylan nodded and Mackenzie continued her story.

“After I found out that your engagement was back on, I thought it was the best thing for both of us if I didn’t tell you...”

“No.” Dylan shook his head. “You should have told me. I had the right to know.”

“You forget, Dylan. I knew how much you loved Christa. That’s all you talked about the night Jett got married. And you and I both know what would’ve happened if she found out you’d gotten someone pregnant at the wedding! She would’ve broken off the engagement and you would have lost the love of your life because of me! I couldn’t see any reason to screw up your life, Dylan...not when I didn’t even know if I wanted to keep the baby.”

“I didn’t marry Christa,” Dylan challenged her. “But, you did keep the baby.”

“Yes. I did. I thought about adoption. I thought about...abortion. In the end, I decided to keep her.”

Dylan stabbed his leg with his finger. “That’s a decision we should have made together.”

“I admit that I may have called it wrong...”

“Called it wrong...?” he repeated incredulously.

“But I was young and I thought I was doing the right thing for all of us.” Mackenzie touched her finger to her chest. “I got Hope and you got to marry the woman you loved.”

“I didn’t even know what love was back then...” Dylan shook his head. “At least now I know why you were so anxious to get rid of me at the barn the other day. You didn’t want me to meet my own daughter.”

“Not like that I didn’t.” Mackenzie set the record straight. “I didn’t want that for Hope...and I didn’t want that for you.”

In a rough voice, Dylan asked, “Were you ever going to tell me, Mackenzie? Or were you just going to let me go the rest of my life not knowing?”

“No.” Mackenzie clasped her hands together. “I was going to tell you. I had decided to start looking for you this year...”

Dylan’s eyes were glassy with emotion. “You’re telling me...that if we hadn’t run into each other at Ian’s party, you were going to track me down? Why? Why now?”

Mackenzie took a deep breath in and when she let it out, her shoulders sagged.

“It’s what Hope wanted. When we were filling out her Make-A-Wish application, she wrote—I wish I could meet my dad.”

“Wait a minute...” What she had just said didn’t sink into his head right away. “Make-A-Wish? Isn’t that for sick kids?”

“Yes.” Mackenzie waited for Dylan to ask the next logical question.

“Are you trying to tell me that Hope is sick?”

“Hope has been battling leukemia for the last two years.” Mackenzie managed to say those words without tearing up.

As Dylan often did, he went silent. He stared at her for a long time with puzzled, narrowed eyes.

“Do you need a drink?” he finally asked. “I need a drink.”

Dylan stood up suddenly and walked toward the kitchen. He stopped when he realized that she was still sitting on the couch. “Are you coming?”

Wordlessly, Mackenzie stood up on shaky legs and followed Dylan into the kitchen.

“Can I interest you in a cold malt beverage?” Dylan pulled a bottle of beer from the side door.

“Sure. Why not?”

“Why not, indeed,” Dylan said cryptically as he popped the tops off the beers and handed her one. “We’re both consenting adults here.”

“Thank you,” Mackenzie said. She brought the bottle up to her mouth but Dylan stopped her.

“What should we toast to?” He held out his bottle to her.

“Anything you’d like,” Mackenzie said tiredly. She was exhausted. She was exhausted all the time, and had been for years. The stress of Hope’s illness and the stress of trying to run a business had been catching up with her for a long time. And now she had a sinking feeling that dealing with Dylan was only going to add to her exhaustion.

Dylan tapped her bottle with his. “To Hope.”

“To Hope,” Mackenzie seconded.

“Could you go for some fresh air?” Dylan asked.

Mackenzie nodded and Dylan opened the French door leading out to the deck. “After you.”

Mackenzie stepped onto the large deck and was immediately drawn to the edge of the railing that overlooked the beach. She stared at the sun setting over the small, rolling waves and tried to relax her shoulders. Dylan, who used to be so simple to read, wasn’t so easy for her to read tonight. She had no idea what type of emotional shift she might encounter. Next to her, but not too close, Dylan rested his forearms on the railing, bottle loosely held in one hand.

“So...” Dylan said in a calm, almost contemplative tone. “Hope has cancer.”

“Yes...” Mackenzie nodded. “She has acute lymphoblastic leukemia. ALL. She was diagnosed when she was eight.”

“Leukemia. What is that? Blood cancer?”

Mackenzie nodded. “At first I just thought that she was pushing herself too hard between school and the barn. She was tired all the time, losing weight. She just wasn’t herself. When she started to complain about an ache in her bones and a sore throat...” Mackenzie lifted one shoulder. “I thought she was coming down with the flu. I mean...who would immediately jump to cancer?”

Dylan sat down in one of the chairs encircling a fire pit. Mackenzie joined him.

“I remember being really stressed out that day...the day we found out. I had to rearrange my entire morning so I could get Hope to the doctor. Traffic was ridiculous, I was on the phone with the bakery...on the phone with clients...I remember thinking that it was the worst possible time for Hope to be catching something on top of everything else.” Mackenzie pushed strands of hair out of her face. “And all I could do was start adding things to do to my already gigantic to-do list—stop by the pharmacy, arrange for someone to stay with Hope...blah, blah, blah...”

Mackenzie stopped to take a swig from her beer. She shook her head as she swallowed the liquid down. “I had no idea how frivolous everything I’d just been obsessing over was about to become.”

Dylan listened intently, while Mackenzie talked. “The doctor sent us to the hospital, tests were run and she was diagnosed that day. And just like that...literally in what seemed like the blink of an eye...our world imploded. No parent is ever prepared to hear the words your child has cancer.” Mackenzie rubbed fresh tears out of her eyes. “But even more than that, I’ll never forget the look on Hope’s face when she asked me—ʽDid she just say that I have cancer?’ I’ve never been that scared in my life. Hope was admitted to the hospital, and ever since then, our lives just became this never-ending revolving door of chemo and steroids and tests and checkups and hospital stays...”

When Mackenzie realized that she was the only one talking and that she had said much more than she had ever intended, she stopped herself from blurting out more by taking a swig of her now-tepid beer. She picked at the label on the bottle, wishing that Dylan would do something other than sit in his designer lounge chair and stare at her.

“I don’t know why I just told you all of that,” Mackenzie said to fill the silence.

At first, Dylan really didn’t know what to say. He had been dragged from one emotional spectrum to the next in the span of an hour. At the beginning of their meeting, all he felt for Mackenzie was anger. But while Mackenzie was telling her story, and with the ocean wind blowing the wispy tendrils of her hair across her pretty face, she reminded him of the girl she had once been. The girl he remembered so vividly from his childhood—the chubby bookworm with thick glasses who used to read her books in the backseat of one of her father’s vintage cars. All the boys in the neighborhood ignored Jett’s sister, but he never did. Maybe it was because he liked how different she was than the rest of the girls. Or maybe it was because he had only seen her smile once after her mom died. He had never thought to analyze it. He had always just liked Mackenzie.

“Because we used to be friends,” Dylan said.

“Were we?” Mackenzie asked.

“I always thought so.” Dylan caught her gaze and held it. “And I tell you this, Mackenzie. If I had known that you were pregnant...if you had just trusted me enough to give me a chance, I never would’ve let you or Hope go through any of this stuff alone. I would have been there for you...both of you...every step of the way.”

Chapter Five

It took Dylan a couple of weeks to make a decision about Hope. He had gone about his daily life trying to focus on business. He hadn’t told anyone about Hope, not his girlfriend, his aunt or his best friend. He needed to get right with it in his own head before he could open up to other people. And after many distracted days and restless nights, he had an epiphany of sorts: Didn’t he have a moral obligation to Hope? Yes, the idea of becoming an “instant parent” terrified him. But if he was brutally honest with himself, the idea of repeating his father’s mistakes scared him even more. Once he came to a decision, he took the only next logical step: he called Mackenzie.

“Hello?” Mackenzie answered the phone.

“Hi, Mackenzie. It’s Dylan. How are you?”

“I’m fine. Busy. But fine,” Mackenzie said. “Hope’s doing really well. Her recent blood tests came back clear. She’s still in remission.”

“That’s good to hear.”

When he didn’t add anything more, Mackenzie asked, “How are you doing, Dylan?”

“I’m okay. Still sorting through this thing, I think.” Dylan rested his forehead in his hand. “Look, Mackenzie, I’ve been thinking a lot about Hope...are you sure that getting to know me is what your daughter wants?”

Mackenzie hated that she hesitated before she said, “I’m sure.”

“Then, let’s set it up.” Dylan stared out the window at the calm ocean in the distance. His tone was steady but his heart was pounding.

“Um...” Mackenzie rubbed her temples to prevent a migraine from flaring up. “I haven’t told Hope that I found you yet. I was waiting to hear from you. I didn’t want to get her excited and then...well, you know...”

“Understood.” Dylan sounded as if he was arranging a business meeting rather than a meeting with his newly discovered daughter. It was his comfort zone and it helped him stay sane. “When can you get that done?”

“Not tonight,” Mackenzie said distractedly. “She has chemo tomorrow and she’ll be sick all weekend...but maybe next week sometime when she’s feeling better...”

“That’s fine.” Dylan nodded his head. “Once that’s done, give me a call and we’ll figure out the next step. Does that work for you?”

“Yes,” Mackenzie said after she cleared her throat. “I’ll call you once I’ve spoken with my daughter.”

After they ended the call, Mackenzie stared at the phone for several seconds.

“Well?” Rayna was staring at her like a cat gearing up to pounce on a catnip toy. “That had to be Dylan, right? What did he say?”

“He wants to meet Hope.”

Rayna turned the burner on the stove down. “See? Look at that! Prayers in action! This is great news!”

“What’s great news?” Charlie walked through the front door wearing mint-green scrubs. She hung her keys on the hook just inside the door.

“Hi, honey.” Rayna smiled at her wife, Charlotte. “Dylan finally came to his senses and called. He’s agreed to meet Hope!”

Rayna was the yin to Charlotte’s yang. Rayna had shoulder-length wispy blond hair, pretty, Slavic features and alabaster skin. Charlotte, who preferred to be called Charlie, was an attractive mix of Irish and Mexican heritage with light brown eyes, golden-chestnut skin and thick black wavy hair worn loose and long. At first, Rayna and Charlie were just her landlords, but they had become family after Hope was diagnosed. Rayna and Charlie had been in the trenches with them right from the start—cooking meals, running errands and pulling all-nighters watching Hope while Mackenzie caught a few hours of sleep. And Rayna’s church had held fundraisers to help raise money to help pay for Hope’s burgeoning medical bills. It was hard to imagine how she would have gotten through the first year of Hope’s treatment without them.

“Huh...” Charlie kissed Rayna on the lips. “How come you’re happy and Mackenzie’s not?”

“You know Mackenzie resists change.” Ray held out a wooden spoon to Charlie. “Here. Taste this.”

Charlie tasted the sauce. “That’s really good.”

“I don’t think I resist change,” Mackenzie said.

A sleepy-eyed, rotund gray tabby cat named Max appeared. Charlie scooped him up, kissed him on the head. “I thought this was the call you’ve been waiting for all week...?”

“It’s not that I’m not glad that he called. I am. It’s just a lot to take in, that’s all. It’s always just been Hope and me.” Mackenzie rested her chin on her hand. “I like how things are between us now...”

“Resistant to change,” Rayna said in a singsong voice.

Charlie got some water and then joined Mackenzie at the kitchen table. “But maybe this will turn out to be a great thing. You yourself already said that he’s a good guy. What could it hurt to have another person share the load? Between the bakery and managing Hope’s leukemia treatments, let’s face it...you’ve got your hands full.”

At Mackenzie’s feet, Max was preparing for a leap onto her lap. Mackenzie patted her legs for encouragement.

“Oh, my dear lord, what have you been feeding this cat, Ray?” Max landed on her leg with a grunt. “I thought he was on a diet.”

Charlie sent Rayna an “I told you so” look. Rayna was immediately defensive. “He is on a diet! Don’t listen to them, Max-a-million. You’re just big boned!” Rayna pointed a spatula at her. “And don’t change the subject. What’s really scaring you?”

Rayna could read her like a book. “I don’t know. I suppose I am, a little scared. I mean...what if...

“What if...” Mackenzie hadn’t admitted this private thought aloud. “What if Dylan ends up wanting custody of Hope? What if Hope decides that she wants to live with him down the road?”

Charlie and Rayna both shook their heads in unison.

“Nope. Not gonna happen.” Charlie twisted her thick wavy hair into a bun.

Rayna came to the table. “Not a chance.”

“I feel stupid admitting that out loud...” Mackenzie scratched behind Max’s chops.

“It’s not stupid,” Rayna said. “It’s human.”

“I suppose so...” Mackenzie helped Max to the floor safely. “You know what, guys? If it’s all the same to you, I think I’m just gonna skip dinner.”

“Are you sure?” Rayna asked, disappointed. “I was going to try out a new recipe on you! And I have wine...”

“Yeah. I’m sure.” She stood up, glad that she lived next door. “I just need some time to...decompress before Hope gets back from the movies.”

“Bath salts, candles and a hot bath.” Rayna hugged her tightly at the door. “Everything always looks better after a bath.”

* * *

Dylan drove slowly up the winding, tree-lined private driveway that led to his aunt’s farm. When he was growing up, and Uncle Bill was still alive, the farm had been bustling with activity. Now the place felt lifeless. The horses were gone, the stable hands and horse trainers were gone. The only thing left were empty pastures, empty stables and Aunt Gerri’s sprawling two-story 1900s farmhouse with its wraparound porch and old tin roof. At one time, Forrest Hanoverians claimed over a hundred acres and were renowned for the quality of their Hanoverian breeding program. Over the years, Aunt Gerri had sold off much of the farm’s land until only the central twenty acres of the farm remained.

Dylan parked his car in the circle driveway in front of the house. Aunt Gerri swung open the front door and waved at him.

“I was just getting ready to play the organ, when I saw you coming up the driveway!” Aunt Gerri called to him from the door. Just shy of her eighty-third birthday, Geraldine Forrest was a petite woman with intelligent bright blue eyes, a steel-trap memory and a kind-hearted disposition. Dylan always marveled at her energy; she kept herself busy going to garage sales, playing the organ at her church and socializing with her long list of friends.

“How are you, Aunt Gerri?” Dylan walked up the porch steps.

“Well...I’ll tell you...I’m fit as a fiddle.” Aunt Gerri held out her arms to him. “Oh! I’m so happy to see you!”

“I’m glad to see you, too, Aunt Gerri.” Dylan hugged her and kissed her on the cheek.

“Okay...so let’s go inside.” Aunt Gerri turned to head back into the house. “You’ll have to shut the door real hard—it’s been sticking lately.”

Dylan ran his hand up the edge of the door. “I’ll fix it for you before I leave.”

“Oh! Would you?” Aunt Gerri beamed. “That would be such a big help. I was finally going to break down and call someone about it tomorrow. You’ll be saving me the trouble. Do you want coffee?”

“No, thanks. I’m good.” Dylan stopped to straighten a picture of Uncle Bill hanging in the foyer. After his mom died, this became his permanent home. Uncle Bill and Aunt Gerri took him and raised him. This house, with its creaky wide-planked wooden floors and thick crown molding, was his home. It was the one place that never really changed. The one thing he could always count on, especially when something significant happened in his life.

“Let’s go to the sitting room, then. I want to show you my brand-new organ.” Aunt Gerri headed into the large room to the left of the foyer.

“It’s a Lowrey Holiday Classic...” Aunt Gerri stood proudly by her organ. “I just traded my old one in. This is my seventh organ and this’ll probably be the last one I buy...”

Dylan sat down in his grandmother’s rocking chair. “It’s nice. I like it.”

“I’ll be sure to play it for you before you go.” Aunt Gerri settled herself in another rocking chair. “So...” Her sharp blue eyes were curious. “What’s the news?”

“Can’t I visit you without being accused of having an ulterior motive?”

“Oh, I think I know you pretty well,” Aunt Gerri said. “There’s gotta be something real important going on to bring you all the way out here on a business day.”

“You’ve always had my number ever since I was a kid.” Dylan fiddled with the loose rocking-chair arm before he looked back at his aunt. “And you’re right. There is something I need to tell you.”