From the Heart: Romance, Mystery and Suspense a collection for everyone (26 page)

Chapter Three

Her breath fogged on this cold and unusually clear day in early December. The icy chill barely penetrated past an ache that felt as if it shredded her insides. Maggie squeezed her eyes shut as a single tear fell.
Breathe in and out.
She really tried but nothing would ease the hurt. With her shoulders pulled inward, she hurried to her rusted blue Topaz. Her eyes hurt, swollen from the tears she thought had long since passed. All that unreconciled agony she’d shoved and locked away flooded her senses—all because of Jacob’s kind words.

Maggie slammed her door. “No, No.” She hit the steering wheel with the palm of her hand, to change the hurt to a physical one—a real one she could deal with. Then she fought to bottle back the agony. Today was not the day she’d face it.

Jacob was a kind man. His gentle eyes never left hers, and she’d be a fool to miss how her feelings mattered to him. The meeting was swift, and even Maggie was aware Jacob could see through the charade and her new motto—just do it.

In the end, she listened quietly as he reminded her to watch her P’s and Q’s, especially when dealing with district personnel. Then he did it. The reminder she hadn’t wanted. “So how are you really doing, Maggie?”

A jagged knife ripped open the tender wound. Except from Jacob, it wasn’t pity. And with him there was no avoidance. She knew he genuinely cared.

The first day of this school year for Ryley and the days following, Jacob had simply touched her shoulder. “If you need anything, I’m just a phone call away.” Jacob was a passionate school principal, her friend, and a children’s advocate--and he’d been there the day they’d buried Lily.

Holding onto the wheel of the car, she slumped as the overwhelming grief tore with viscous claws through her chest. She struggled and gasped for breath while hammering those walls back up, pushing the pain back where it needed to go. How, in one single genuine moment, had he managed to knock those barriers down?

“How could he?”
I am stronger than this,
she chanted to herself as she quickly shoved on her dark sunglasses, hiding her tear-stained eyes. “Suck it up, come on, come on, come on. You can do it.” Her determined pep talk helped to refocus her thoughts. And maybe one day soon, she’d experience the day her heart would break just a little bit less.

Chapter Four

The old Topaz spurted and shuttered as Maggie drove home. The rusted out muffler, held on by wires, vibrated and shook the floor inside the car. Her ears were buzzing from the loud rumbling, which she supposed announced her arrival from blocks away. “Sorry.” She winced and waved to her elderly neighbors who frowned as she passed before pulling into her driveway. Necessary repairs were fast approaching critical, but on Maggie’s budget, not even an oil change would happen right now.

She blinked as she stood outside her average box style house and stared at the front door. She turned and looked back at the faded blue car, realizing she couldn’t remember the route she’d driven home. How many times over this last year had she done this?

A familiar scratch and whine yanked Maggie from her funk. She fumbled in her bag for keys while Daisy barked and scratched at the door. Maggie’s best friend and companion, who shared her deepest pain without judgment, unconditionally and always there, was a black and white dog with golden highlights—a sheepdog, lab, retriever, and a few other unmentionable mixes thrown in. The all-American mutt. Not much of a watch dog, but for what she lacked, she made up in spades with comfort, trust, and loyalty. Ten months ago, Maggie drove to the SPCA. At the time, she didn’t know why she’d stopped. But when she saw Daisy lying quiet, rejected, and unresponsive in that tiny cage, she knew she couldn’t leave without her. Even the girl at the counter was shocked when Maggie specifically asked for the old dog. And the lady asked her three times if she was sure she wanted a geriatric dog—one slated to be put down the end of the week. Maggie was convinced the dog was sent to her. From the first day when those blue days hit, when she couldn’t get out of bed, Daisy stayed with her.

Maggie opened the door. “You need to go outside?” Daisy barked and pranced in front of Maggie and then raced to the back door, which opened into a small fenced yard. Daisy was quick in her old age, the way she darted out into the cold, and then rushed back in. “It’s too cold for you, sweetheart?” The dog yipped in agreement. She patted the dog’s head and wandered into the open kitchen to brew a hot coffee. The message light flashed on her cordless phone.

She didn’t plan on returning anyone’s call, but she replayed the messages.

“Just checking to see how you’re doing Maggie, call me.” Her mom, at times, was irritating with how she kept calling, and when she was in town, dropping by unannounced. But that was in the beginning, after Lily died, and thankfully over the last few months, was decreasing.

The second message was from Richard, her soon-to-be ex. “I’m picking up Ryley from school today and keeping him through the weekend.”

Maggie shut her eyes and pressed her fingers to her forehead when a heavy fog of confusion muddled her thoughts. Then finally, her memory clicked, today was Tuesday. She blinked again. Or had she lost another week? She shuffled through the stack of papers, bills, overdue notices for her calendar.

“No, no, no. I don’t think so, Richard.” Fury pushed the blood through her veins while she looked at the date on the coffee stained Day-Timer. She punched in the numbers to his cell phone knowing he’d be somewhere on the forty acre property and not in the beautiful large two story cedar home he built after Ryley was born.

“This is Richard leave one.”

“Voicemail, you jerk? You’re screening your calls. You knew I’d call back.” Maggie didn’t think as she threw the phone down on the counter. She grabbed her purse and keys and tore out the front door, slamming it so hard the front window shook. She gunned the engine and backed out of her narrow paved driveway. A horn blasted behind her, but she didn’t stop to look. And somehow, she made the twenty minute drive out of town to the Gardiner acreage in just under ten minutes.

Traces of snow scattered the sides of the long driveway, and a big pile of snow had been dumped close to the barn. She jammed on her brakes, and for a second, doubt cut through her anger. Before thinking it to death, she hit the gas and drove past the double paddock barn, and parked outside the west coast cedar home—her home—their home—the home she once loved.

Maggie stared at the brown grass where her babies played. Half an acre she’d dug and seeded alongside Richard. Old growth trees surrounded the perimeter with a crop of Douglas Fir hiding a small tree house—the one Richard built for Ryley. And across the front yard, past the whispering Willow, was the road that had killed her Lily.

Her cheeks were wet from the tears that wouldn’t leave. She roughly wiped her chapped cheeks and shut her eyes as she leaned back wishing she could fall into sleep and oblivion, the only place she could forget for a while. But she didn’t. Instead, Maggie crawled out of her car as if she’d aged twenty years. And there stood Richard.

The gray blue of his all-seeing eyes now held an edge of hardness. His dark hair had lightened to a sandy gray. He wore his hair longer, and the unruly waves whipped around in the wind. Maggie couldn’t put her finger on it, but there was something different about him. Something solid, like a survivor, that wasn’t there before. He was tall and broad shouldered, and even wearing his old, torn barn jacket, she knew he could still turn every lady’s head.

How long had it been since she was here? With effort, she remembered: she hadn’t been back since the day she loaded Ryley up with their suitcases and drove away.

But watching Richard stare at her in his frigid unforgiving way, all she could remember was how much she missed the strength of his arms when he enfolded her in them. There was a time he could protect her from anything. But not that. Blame had been passed around, the agony—grief. At thirty-seven, the weather-etched lines around his eyes had deepened. His solid jaw now held a bitter edge. And the tiny scar down his left cheek had been her parting gift.

She was rocked by all of it. The regrets, and why was she here? She closed her eyes to blank out his image, but it was too late. She felt the link, the connection to him, and no matter how she tried, she couldn’t sever it. However, she’d made her choice--or maybe it had been made for her?

“Richard, I…”

He said nothing. He left her standing there as he climbed the steps and went inside. The door clattered when it smacked the wood frame, dragging Maggie out of her hypnotic stupor and shocking the fury back into her. She marched after him. Passion or hate, she didn’t know which drove her until she stood in the center of the open kitchen, facing the brickwork of the stovetop island in the center of this once inviting room.

“Maggie, what do you want? I left you a message.” Richard stood at the kitchen sink. He kept his back to her, and from what she could tell, stared out the window at the old growth forest dotting the perimeter of their property.

“It’s Tuesday. You can’t pick up Ryley and keep him through the weekend. We have an arrangement. You get him on the weekends, not before. He has school and a routine, and it’s important--”

“I don’t give a crap about your perception of routine. The boy belongs here. He’s my son. And it’s time he came home for good.”

He cut her off in a way that was unbending, and she knew it was meant to overpower. But she wouldn’t cave, not this time. Because now, she felt something vital being yanked away. “You can’t do that, you agreed—we both agreed. Ryley would be better off with me in town. I’m his mother. You can’t take him away from me.”

Richard pushed away from the sink and stalked toward her. As he moved closer, his face softened. Panic expanded in her chest. There was something different about this man she’d once loved so deeply. It was as if he had peace, or was it resolve? Whatever it was changed her scattered focus—her determination. Her belly ached because she realized he’d healed and left her behind. How could he? His strong hands surrounded her shoulders. Tears clouded her clear vision when she looked up and tried to speak. But nothing would come.

“Oh Maggie, you have to get past it.” His words were soft. But she sensed they were merely his shield.

“I can’t. I still see her running around. If I could have just gotten there sooner. Why did you let her go out? I should have gone with her.”

He didn’t push her away this time. He pulled her against him. Surrounded her with arms—strong arms. She breathed in the piney spice of the trees. He’d been chopping wood. She pressed her cheek against his chest; her head didn’t top his shoulders. She gazed up at him, and her fingers traced over each weather-worn line on his face. Her breath mixed with the warmth of his. And his head came down hard. The kiss was brutal, needy, as he backed her to the wall. He unzipped her coat, pulled open her shirt, scattering the buttons on the floor and lifted her bra, skimming his rough hands over both breasts.

Maggie unzipped his jeans, aroused and ready. Her own jeans loosened, and Richard pushed them down, but the pant legs stuck—her shoes, dammit. She struggled to kick them off, freeing one leg from her jeans. Richard lifted her and stepped between her legs, thrusting hard. She closed her eyes and wrapped her legs around his waist, caught up in the frenzy of need, life, and desperation to feel something, anything, again. He filled her over and over, her mouth on his, fast and hurried. There were no passionate or frilly love words, just a physical need followed by Richard’s muffled curse, and he was done.

Reality was a bitch. Her jeans dangled from one leg, and there he was, still buried inside of her. Both of them panted as if they’d just run a marathon. And the dark intruder of truth smashed through the illusion. His eyes closed, and he rested his forehead against hers, before gradually pulling out and setting her down.

Richard moved back and zipped up his pants. Awkwardness rushed in. Her jeans were inside out on one leg, her underwear bunched and twisted. It took her a minute, like a clumsy first timer to right her jeans and pull down her bra. The blue buttons on her cotton shirt were spread on the cream colored floor along with her jacket. Maggie pulled her shirt together and glanced away, an unbearable sense of strangeness lingered between them. She shut her eyes and took a breath. What’s the big deal? He’d been her husband for eleven years.

“Umm… sorry about the blouse.” He gestured to the lost buttons. “Some of your clothes are still upstairs.”

Avoiding his eyes, she held the tattered cloth closed over her breasts and hurried through the living room. The open wood beams gleamed as she looked up at the pitch of the high ceiling. The post and beam theme continued up the L-shape staircase. The solid planks at one time vibrated with their love and passion. Nine years ago, side by side, Richard built her this beautiful house. Eleven months and seven days of sweat, sore muscles, love, tears, joy, short tempers, and fierce lovemaking had created this house.

She froze at the top of the stairs. Clasping her hands in front of herself, she fought to hold back the ache that pitched from some place deep within. Her ribs, stomach, throat ached. Whoever said time healed all wounds lied. The solid wood door was a banishment. She turned the knob and pressed open the door, stepping in.

The twin bed with a pink Cinderella bedspread nearly brought her to her knees, as if someone rammed their fist into her stomach. The blond and dark-haired dolls and stuffed animals were assembled neatly on her pillow. The six drawer dresser with hand painted rosebuds on the drawer fronts hadn’t moved.

When Lily was six months old, Maggie painted each pink flower as a token of her love. She picked up the silver framed picture of Lily in her arms moments after she was born. She traced the outline of her baby’s head, her eyes wide open and filled with a spark of light. But even then, she gazed into shadows as if not entirely seeing. Maggie shut her eyes, pressed the picture frame against her chest, and tried to resurrect some remnant of her precious girl. Some piece of her now lost from that horrible fateful day.

“Oh God, how could you take her?” Her voice trembled. She ached just being here in this room. Except something was different. As if Lily was here with her now.

Maggie didn’t know how long she lay on Lily’s bed, her back pressed into the soft plush mattress, remembering all the nights she lay cuddled next to her tiny daughter, holding her through one of many night terrors.

How many nights after the accident had she lain here, never leaving this room, while the rift between her and Richard grew wider than the Great Divide? Add in the blame they heaped on each other. Richard spent weeks drunk, disappearing during the day. At night, he’d come and go. Until the memories and pain of this place became too much to bear.

The furnished house in Gardiner appeared in the local paper for rent. Maggie believed this was meant to be. She phoned, met with the property management company, and signed the lease. All in one day. Then she packed up her and Ryley’s belonging in two suitcases. And pulled away in their SUV while Richard was gone. She didn’t leave a note. Ryley at eight years old, screamed and cried as far as the main road, and then he sulked in the backseat. “It’s going to be better, I promise.” Maggie believed by leaving, she’d finally be able to breathe without the burning ache ripping her apart.

The eruption from Richard when he tracked her down through the school, and the ensuing fight were ugly. She clawed his cheek with her nails. He seized her SUV. He canceled her credit cards. She obtained a lawyer and filed for legal separation. He got his own lawyer too. Hers, as she looked back, was good. He wasn’t in it for the money, and he warned her from the beginning to play fair. They were both grieving from a terrible loss. His lawyer was dirty and only in it for the money.