Mail-Order Matty. Emilie Richards

they had done with the letter. Felicity had been as horrified as she was, but Liza had been philosophical. “He’ll see it was done in good fun,” she’d said. “He’ll have a good laugh and toss it right out.”

      But Matty hadn’t been so easygoing about something that had, in its own excessive way, revealed too much of her heart. She had felt wounded and vulnerable, and she had sat down that night to write Damon a real letter apologizing and explaining. “It was my twenty-seventh birthday,” she’d written, “a time to look backward and forward. My friends and I were talking about what I wanted from life by the time I was thirty, then we started in on the first of too many bottles of champagne. I almost never drink, Damon. I shouldn’t have had so much that night. I’m afraid I acted like an idiot. Please forgive me, and if you remember me at all, please try not to include this with the rest of your memories.”

      She had wished him the best of luck, sealed the envelope and driven it right down to the post office. Writing the letter had helped a little. At least Damon would know the first one had been a prank and a mistake. She had hated the fact that he would probably think she was immature and featherbrained, with too much time on her hands, but she had realized there was nothing more she could do.

      His birthday card had arrived two weeks later, and his first telephone call a week after that. “I wasn’t advertising for a wife, and you weren’t really applying to be one,” he’d said, just minutes into the conversation. “But, Matty, I’m in a desperate situation here, and I don’t know where else to turn.”

      And then he had proceeded to outline his dilemma.

      “That looks like the right carousel up ahead.” Damon gestured to a baggage carousel that was slowly circulating, although by now there were only a few pieces left on it. “Point out which are yours when they come around and I’ll get them off.”

      Matty glanced at him from the corner of her eye. He was wearing dark slacks and an ivory dress shirt unbuttoned at the neck. His sports jacket was loose and casual, a natural open-weave fabric that seemed perfectly suited to tropical living.

      “Your hands seem to be full, Damon.”

      He looked down at the bouquet of carnations he had been choking since she’d first turned around to face him. Then he looked up at her and grinned. “They’re for you. I’d completely forgotten I had them.” He held them out.

      “They’re lovely.” Actually, they might have been lovely once, but the white paper stapled around them was crumpled now from fingers that had gripped it too tightly, and Matty suspected the stems were mangled.

      “I’m sorry,” he said. “Maybe I’m not as calm as I thought.”

      “I’m sure if there was a handbook on mail-order marriages that would be on the first page. I guess our palms are supposed to sweat and our hearts are supposed to beat double time.”

      “Is yours beating double time?”

      “Triple.” She heard her voice waver. She had talked herself into coming here with a bravado she hadn’t even known she possessed. She had marched in to her supervisor at Carrollton Community Hospital to give her resignation, and she hadn’t even considered the immediate promise of a pay raise if she would just rethink her decision. Without a backward glance she had rented her house to Liza and Felicity and said her goodbyes.

      And somewhere along that path she had used up all her stores of courage.

      Damon took her hand. The gesture so surprised her that she froze. She knew her eyes gave her away. She excelled at warm good cheer, at encouragement and empathy, but right now she needed someone to give all those things back to her.

      “Matty…” His voice was kind, even kinder than she remembered. “I’m not going to pressure you. I know I’m asking too much. Let’s just get to know each other today. One step at a time. Okay?”

      “Damon, look at you. There have to be a dozen women who would have said yes to marrying you, women you know well, women you’re attracted to. I’m nearly a stranger. Why me?”

      He had answered that question before, but he seemed to sense her need to watch his face as he explained once again. He linked his fingers with hers, and her heart skipped erratically.

      “Not a dozen. But I do know some women who might have said yes. None of them could offer what I really need. The only question is whether you need Heidi and me enough to take this step. Do you?”

      The answer was yes, of course. Perhaps there had been a thousand possibilities for her future, but somehow, after Damon reentered her life, she had only glimpsed two. She could continue at Carrollton Community taking care of other people’s beautiful babies, continue living in the house and town she had lived in all her life, continue wondering what the world was like outside that small frozen speck on the map. Or she could accept Damon’s astounding offer of marriage and motherhood and a new life on a distant tropical island.

      In the end the choice had been easy, because the second possibility had come attached to Damon Quinn, a man she had once loved with unrestrained passion. And this gift of Damon in her life once more, even under these strange and unromantic circumstances, had been too tempting to reject.

      “I’m here,” she said. She would not reveal more of her heart than that.

      He seemed to think it was answer enough. “Let’s get your suitcases, then we’ll go somewhere for lunch.” He squeezed her hand before he dropped it. She felt absolutely alone when he was no longer touching her, but she lifted her chin and managed a smile.

      * * *

      Matty Stewart was not what Damon had expected. He had done his research, probing, in-depth research that should have distilled the essence of the woman. He knew how she had sacrificed a normal youth to care for her father. He knew that Frank Stewart’s illness had been long and difficult, an illness that had taken his strength and finally his mind, and that Matty had given him tender, unremitting care until his death two years ago.

      And he knew that she was regarded by hospital supervisors and colleagues alike as one of the finest nurses ever to walk through Carrollton Community’s doors. If she had faults they tended toward the most admirable. She was too accepting of others’ faults, too giving, too undemanding. Everyone seemed to like and trust Matty, from the man-eating head nurse in maternity to the lowliest emergency-room clerk. They all went to Matty if something special needed to be done, and most of the time she was able to satisfy them.

      Her personal life was just as flawless. To make ends meet she had shared her home with two of Carrollton’s most eligible women, and the three seemed to be close and loyal friends. The other two were well liked, but everyone seemed to think it was Matty who glued their friendship together. There were no hints of competition for men or prestige. At home, as at the hospital, Matty seemed determined to believe the best and give her best.

      Knowing all that and more, Damon had expected someone subtly different from the woman who had been waiting at the information booth. First, he had been surprised to feel such an instant tug of attraction toward her. She wasn’t really pretty, not in any classical sense of the word, but she had a vibrant, natural smile and smoky hazel eyes that never looked away when she spoke. Her creamy skin was flawless, and her hair was fine and silky. Her best points were subtle but undeniable. She was not a woman a man might pick out in a crowd, but once exposed to her, she would nibble away at his concentration until she had his undivided attention.

      Damon knew there was no man in Matty’s life. Caring for her father had made that impossible, and then there had been months of readjustment and, naturally, grief after his death. By the time fate had allowed her to seek a relationship, the pool of eligible men in Carrollton had been small. But now that he’d seen her, no excuses seemed good enough. Why hadn’t some man noticed her anyway? Had she been so busy taking care of everyone around her that no one had seen she could be more, much more, if she was just given the chance?

      “All this sunlight!” Matty spread her hands as if to catch sunbeams to store away. “Damon, I’ve never seen light like this. It’s like liquid gold.”