Changes of Heart (23 page)

It started as a giggle but soon escalated to the free and joyful laughter Maggie had enjoyed a short time earlier. This time, however, there was no one to share it with, and she keenly felt that difference.

Ian crunched and slid up the driveway in his little car just before dark that Christmas Day. Maggie wasn’t surprised; she’d expected him earlier, given how she’d fled his service at church that morning. She walked from the couch in the living room to the kitchen door to greet the minister and grinned when, instead of his smile, all she saw through the kitchen window was his back as he walked toward the barn. She flipped on the outdoor light switch and went back to her couch, knowing it would be awhile before Ian appeared at her door.

Love at first sight
, Maggie mused.
A minister and a quarter horse colt
.

Maggie sat for a few moments and then rose and tugged her coat from the closet. Snow squeaked under her soles
as she walked to the barn, the pristine, arctic air a tonic that awakened her senses. She stopped for a moment and looked up at the sky. The profound and inestimable depth of the darkness would have been frightening if not for the stars in boundless clusters.

A shooting star darted from east to west, its tail glinting like the trail of a Fourth of July sparkler. Maggie watched it, took another deep draught of air, and entered the barn.

Dancer stood outside his stall, quite proudly wearing a white leather halter with brass fittings. Ian, standing next to the colt with his back to Maggie, rested both hands on Dancer’s back. Maggie heard the final words of the man’s prayer.

“... your creatures—your creations, Lord. Again I thank you for giving us Dancer, and I pray that you continue his recovery and mend his leg so that he’s once again as close to perfect as an animal can be. Thank you, Lord. Amen.”

“Amen,” Maggie echoed. She moved to him and hugged him lightly. “Good to see you,” she said. “I’m sorry about this morning. Things just kind of caught up to me. I shouldn’t have...”

The young minister held Maggie for a moment or so longer than was necessary. “I understand, Maggie,” he said into her hair. “I’m glad you showed up at all.” She felt his lips touch the side of her head in a gentle kiss. When they separated, Maggie’s hand trailed down Ian’s arm, ending with their two hands together.

Maggie nodded to the halter and lead. “Show tack? You
shouldn’t have, Ian—he’ll outgrow the halter in six months. But it’s beautiful.”

“I suppose he will. But he’ll have it for six months anyway, right? And look, I think he really likes it.”

“Of course he does! How could he not?” She eased her hand out of Ian’s and crouched at Dancer’s left rear leg, running her fingers up and down its length, checking for cracks. She noticed that only the toe of his hoof was touching the barn floor. “Still not putting much weight on it,” she said.

“Yeah,” Ian agreed. “But I caught him sleeping when I came in, and he was standing on all four, comfortable as can be.”

Maggie stood and took a step to the front of the colt. “Danny says it shouldn’t be hurting him much at this point. Those bones begin to knit quickly. Part of Dancer not putting full weight on the leg is ghost pain. It hurt him a whole lot once, and in his mind, nothing’s changed. When he forgets about it—like when he’s sleeping—is when he puts weight on it. He’ll be less and less conscious of it as time goes on.”

“I... suppose,” Ian said dubiously.

“No?”

“Well, I read this article in
Western Horseman
about a fellow with an Appy colt about Dancer’s age. The writer said—”

Maggie couldn’t stop a quick laugh of amazement. “
Western Horseman
? Appy? Ian, you’re becoming a cowboy!”

“Shucks, ma’am,” Ian drawled. “I reckon I am. Ain’t nothin’ wrong with that, is there?”

Maggie laughed again. “
Western Horseman
is the best hard-core horse magazine in the world. I had no idea you read it.”

“Yup. Got me one of them there subscriptions,” he continued in his acutely phony drawl.

“Oh, cut it out!” Maggie laughed. “You’ll never sound like a saddle tramp, Ian. But you’ve really gotten interested in this stuff, haven’t you?”

“I have.” He stroked Dancer’s muzzle. “Look at his eyes. How could a person not love a creature with eyes like that?”

At that moment, Maggie was more interested in Ian’s eyes than those of the colt. A quick shiver ran through her—a tiny electrical buzz—that at least for the moment chased away the sad and lonely parts of the day.

How in the world can this be? A little while ago I was kissing another man, and at this moment, my cute minister is making me feel like a fourteen-year-old high school girl infatuated with her teacher
.

Ian stopped speaking in midsentence, the moment capturing him just as it had Maggie. They moved together as inevitably as morning dew appears on pasture grass, and their kiss was warm and long. Dancer snorted wetly, demanding to be the center of attention again, and Maggie and Ian stepped back from one another without embarrassment or self-consciousness.

“Well,” Maggie breathed.

“Indeed.” Ian’s voice was raspy, quiet, almost a whisper. Maggie couldn’t control her smile. “Cowboys don’t say ‘indeed,’ Ian.”

“Umm... shucks all git-out?”

Although they were a stride apart, their eyes remained together, peering inside one another’s hearts. Maggie moved to him again, as if eased into the step by a gentle hand at her back.

“Say ‘indeed’ whenever you want,” she murmured. Dancer snorted more insistently this time. The couple ignored him for a long, wonderful moment.

Maggie sat at her kitchen table listening to Ian’s car pull down the drive and onto the road. She fingered the Christmas gift he had given her—a delicate silver bracelet—and turned it in the light so that the segments of turquoise shimmered and gleamed.

Everything is different now, and everything is so complicated and confusing, and instead of my husband I have two very good men wanting me, and I don’t know if I want either of them—or maybe I want them both
.

Maggie set the bracelet on top of the manure spreader pages and walked into the living room, not bothering with a light. She sat on the couch and put her head back, suddenly weary. Moonlight filtered through high, wispy clouds and created stark shadows in the room. The fireplace needed another log, but Maggie was too tired to attend to it. She swung her legs up onto the couch and settled into it.

She felt herself drift off to that strange aspect of sleep in which she knew she was dreaming but yet felt a reality,
an immediacy to the dream that made it seem as if it was really happening.

I miss you terribly, Richie.

“I know that, honey. But you’re doing the right things. I’m proud of you. I mean that.”

I thought I’d die after you...

“After I died? Don’t be afraid to say it, honey. My life on earth ended a year ago. I’m in heaven now, and I’ll be here forever. But you still have a life to live on earth.”

Why haven’t you come to me before, Richie? I’ve needed you so much. If you’d come to me earlier—like this—things would be different.

“I can’t meddle in your life, honey. But I want you to know that I don’t want you to spend the rest of your years on earth alone. Your heart is too big not to share, Maggie. You shared it with me when I was with you, and now you need to share it with another.”

It’s so soon, Richie—only a year.

“Time is nothing. It means nothing. Let your heart guide you. I love you, Maggie, and I want very much to see you happy again. I know it seems strange to you, but that’s the truth and that’s what’s in my heart for you.”

Richie... please...

“Danny and Ian are both fine men. Follow your heart, honey
.”

The ring of the telephone sawed through the dream, chasing it from Maggie’s now-awake mind. The phone rang three times more, and then the
click-clunk
of Maggie’s answering machine picked up.

“Hi, this is Maggie Locke. I can’t come to the phone right now, but if you’ll leave your name and number I’ll get back to you as soon as I can. Thanks.” There was another click, a beep, and then Maggie heard her mother’s voice.

“Hi, sweetie. You’re probably out in the barn, so Dad and I will call again. We tried earlier, but you were out, and you know how your father is about talking to machines. We’re having a quiet day. The three of us will celebrate Christmas later in the year, maybe on Dad’s birthday, just like we discussed. It’s difficult not seeing you, honey, but maybe for right now, we did the right thing. Our hearts are together, anyway. Well, the reason why I’m calling is I want to tell you this: I was half asleep a moment ago, and I had the strangest dream. And somehow, I woke up with the conviction that you’re OK, that you will be OK. Mother’s intuition? The Lord’s intercession? I don’t pretend to know. It doesn’t really matter, though—because I know what I know. OK, I’m babbling here. We’ll try you a little later. We love you, Maggie.”

New Year’s Eve wasn’t a big deal to Maggie, Sarah, Danny, Ian, or even Tessa. The gathering at the Morrisons’ home that night was casual—good food, lots of conversation and laughter, and good friends.

“Sorry, Maggie,” Tessa said as she scooped up the paltry house Maggie had on Ventnor Avenue on the Monopoly board.

“You’re insufferable, you little brat,” Maggie pointed out.

“Yep,” Tessa agreed.

Maggie felt Danny’s hand tapping against her knee under Sarah’s kitchen table. She looked down and saw that he was offering her a five hundred dollar bill. She reached down casually and accepted it. “Although I think you forgot that I had this behind me, hidden away right here for an emergency.”

“Mom,” Tessa said. “Maggie’s cheating with Danny. He’s passing her money again.”

“Danny?” Sarah asked.

Danny blushed. “It’s not what it seems, Sarah. Don’t listen to Tessa. Maggie and I had an agreement—what’s called a depository note in lieu of something or other. We just—”

“Sure, Doctor,” Sarah grinned. “One thousand dollar fine. And, you collect nothing if this innocent little kid lands on your properties for the next two turns.”

“Innocent?” Danny cried. “Tessa bought up all the junk property and used it to leverage—”

“Hush,” Sarah interrupted. “Apparently you’ve forgotten that I’m the banker and the official arbitrator. Maybe you’d like another thousand tacked on to your fine?”

Ian, the first to be bankrupted by Tessa, shoved his chair back and stood. “I can’t be a party to this any longer,” he said grimly. “That... that twerp drove me to the poorhouse.”

“I offered you a loan, Ian,” Tessa said sweetly.

“Sure. Just like a great white shark offers a tuna an invitation to dinner. Anyway,” he added, “I want to see the crowd in Times Square.”

“I’d pay not to be there tonight,” Sarah said. “Really. The
racket, the drunks, the pickpockets, the hookers—I don’t understand the attraction.”

“I was there once,” Ian said. “I was a kid—maybe twenty or so, still an undergrad. What I remember of Times Square the most is the smell—the stink. A lady in a fancy ball gown tripped and fell right in front of me, and I grabbed her arm to help her up.
She
was a man in a dress, and another guy in a dress whacked me, and... well... that was it for me and New Year’s Eve in Times Square.”