From the Heart: Romance, Mystery and Suspense a collection for everyone (30 page)

Chapter Fourteen

Rattle, rattle, clank.
Maggie blinked, needing a moment to wake up. She sniffed the spicy aroma of lamb curry. Her favorite. A moment passed before she remembered where she was, as she lolled her head back against the overstuffed cushion. She clutched the patchwork quilt now nestled over her. When did she cover herself? How long had she been asleep? Her eyes widened and took in the shadows of the brilliant sunset filling the room.

Maggie’s stomach grumbled, and for the first time in a really long time, she was hungry.

She tossed back the blanket and crept across the room wearing her fuzzy pink slippers. She stopped in front of the wall mirror with the Beechwood frame just outside her sunroom. Her eyes looked glassy, and the skin under them was tinted gray, but at least she had some color in her cheeks. Her shoulder length curly hair was tangled and stuck up at the roots on one side. And for the first time in many years, she worried about how she looked to Richard. Even though he’d seen her at her worst.

She ran her fingers through her hair trying to work out the tangles and stepped into the kitchen where Richard stirred something in a pot. Steam rose from another. He glanced up, frowning with what appeared to be concern as he studied her. “You’re better.”

Maggie felt her cheeks warm and nodded. She shoved her hands in the deep pockets of her brown sweater. Uneasy, she pulled her hands out and tucked her hair behind her ears.

Richard smiled in a teasing way. “You look fine, Maggie.” And then he glanced away distracted again.

“Did your meeting go okay?”

“I didn’t say I had a meeting.” He opened the refrigerator, grabbed a bowl, and then set it on the counter.

“Okay. No, you didn’t. But you said you needed to go out, and you left in a hurry. I know you’re bothered by something. We were married. I know when something’s going on with you.”

“We’re still married, so get that straight.”

“I realize the divorce isn’t final…” She stopped, unsure where to go, and then paused, surprised by the intensity that flared to life in his eyes. He abandoned stirring whatever was in the pot and crossed his arms as he stepped toward her.

“You don’t even remember the meeting at my lawyer’s, do you? Did you
think I didn’t know you were on something that day?” His voice climbed with each step he took toward her until she could feel the heat of his body. She opened her mouth to say something. But he didn’t let her respond. Instead, he spoke right over her. “You think I’m going to let you go? No divorce. Ever!”

She was stunned by his passion, and his caveman “I’m the boss, you’ll do what I say” attitude raised her hackles. However, she was still mad at herself for the screw-up with the pills that turned the entire day into one big blur. She let out a heavy sigh and wiped her palms down the sides of her face.

“What did you do?”

“Let’s just say all the cards are exposed on the table. And I advised the lawyers, yours and mine, of our rekindled relationship.”

He was leaning into her, and her jaw slackened as she sputtered, trying to respond with something intelligent.

“We didn’t rekindle anything. You fucked me against a wall; it was sex… just sex.” Although, and she knew it, the laws of the state were clear in divorce proceedings—no personal relations for a year before divorce can be filed. What a bastard! He used it.

“How could you?”

“Don’t look at me like that. I told you the divorce isn’t going to happen.” He relaxed a bit as he rested his hands on his slim hips, a package that looked darn good in the dark jeans he always wore.

“That is underhanded even for you, Richard.”

“Knock it off and drop this nonsense. You’re back here now where you belong, so put it behind you. What does it matter now anyway?”

This was incredible. She blinked at his arrogance. A side he didn’t show often, but one she knew existed. She stomped upstairs, muttering “arrogant asshole” under her breath. Her hair and disheveled appearance forgotten as she flung open the closet door in their bedroom, where they lay together every night and had since she returned.

She grabbed her overnight bag from the closet floor and tossed it on the neatly made bed. She pulled open the drawers where Richard had put away her clothes, and she yanked them out, stuffing what she could in the small bag.

She froze when she realized what he’d done. How could she forget Richard was a master at deflection? She nearly laughed, after all, she was no longer pursuing his mysterious meeting. So he did have something to hide. She knew it. There was a meeting. The question was with who and where? And what was it about?

Richard was a man of mystery, one of the qualities that drew her to him. But facts were facts. He no longer had the right to tell her what to do. She zipped up the black bag and hefted it over her shoulder. “Who the hell does he think he is…” She jumped as Richard loomed in the doorway, his eyes narrowed as he pushed away from the doorframe, taking slow predatory steps toward her.

“You’re not leaving so put the bag down.”

Her heart pounded, but it wasn’t from fear. There was something possessive about him that hadn’t been there when she’d needed it most. “You can’t tell me what to do.”

He stood so close she could feel his heartbeat as he cupped her face and then spliced his fingers through her messy hair. He lowered his head, the tension, the heat filling the space between them. His breath so warm and sweet, mixed with hers. He leaned closer, watching her, yet their lips barely touched. Her lips trembled wantonly until he touched hers. His message was clear, and she couldn’t help herself for leaning into his mind-blowing kiss. His hands slid down her back to her waist, skimming over her derriere, and then he lifted her. As she wrapped her legs around his waist, he walked to the bed. Their clothes disappeared in a frenzy. Richard’s possessive hands explored every inch of her in a fast hurried fury. Then he was inside of her, and it was hot, hard and fast. She urged him on, begging between their deepening kisses. They came together, both crying out the other’s name. His weight collapsed on top of her before he rolled to the side pulling her tight against him, sated, their legs tangled together, her muscles and her bones limp. She shut her eyes and floated away into the darkness, and slept.

Chapter Fifteen

Maggie rolled over in bed and blinked at the empty spot beside her. She smoothed her hand over the rumpled sheets and stretched as the bright morning sun filled Richard’s large master bedroom—their bedroom. A sense of peace filled her belly when she remembered last night. Richard woke her once when he slid inside her, tender and gentle—a slow ride full of love. He kissed her long and deep and explored every inch of her. This time a deeper connection linked them together and opened a hole she sealed long ago in her heart.

She wiped away the tear that slid down her cheek when fear licked at the hope she had for something good and strong with Richard. Maggie had buried her pain behind a wall of nothingness for so long, she didn’t know if she was strong enough to take a chance. Where was this going, anyway? She wiped the front of her face with her hands, feeling anger at these cowardly thoughts. But then she knew her heart would never survive another tragedy or Richard turning his back on her again.

She loved Richard—she knew it in her bones. In fact, through all of this, she’d always loved him. But the ghost of Lily remained here in this house, on this land, and forever between them. How was it possible to get past all the cruel and hurtful accusations, the blame—an obstacle between them. At least it was in Maggie’s mind. After merely surviving for fourteen months, she wondered if she was strong enough to expel the desolate emptiness that filled her heart and head. She knew she thought too much—always had. Her stomach rumbled while she lay naked, curled up under the warm duvet. After all, she hadn’t eaten anything last night.

Maggie showered and dressed in a peach sweatshirt and blue jeans and then wandered into the kitchen to find it clean and restored to its original show home condition. Richard was a stickler for keeping everything organized and tidy.

The coffeepot beside the sink was full. Her favorite pink and white mug was sitting beside the pot. She filled her mug with the dark roast blend. The aroma was intoxicating. She took a heady sip and gazed out the kitchen window at the empty spot where Richard’s truck should be, and then out over the acres of land and forest on this property. She really loved this place.

Maggie was sitting at the kitchen table chewing a piece of toast when she heard Richard’s truck pull up. Her heart hammered a little harder when she heard both doors open and close and Ryley’s incessant chatter. She flattened her hands on the table and scooted her chair back when they strode through the back door together. Richard searched her out, and for a heated minute, his bright eyes connected with hers, and she was positive he sensed her need to run. Ryley hesitated only a second before hugging her where she perched on the edge of her chair. And when her little boy—big boy—pulled away, he was grinning ear to ear as he glanced back at his father.

Richard dumped his keys on the kitchen counter.

When Ryley glanced down at her, his innocent eyes darted in a hesitant way as if he remembered something that bothered him. “Dad said you weren’t feeling well. You okay now, Mom?”

Richard and she never discussed the pills, and she didn’t know what he told Ryley. She’d never taken them around him. And she kept them stashed in the medicine cabinet with all her toiletries. He was only eleven years old; he couldn’t know.

“Your mom’s still a little tired. So don’t push her, Ryley. Okay?” Richard tossed his tan jacket over the back of the chair and gripped Ryley’s shoulders.

Ryley leaned into his dad, an exchange and bond they shared without her that tripped a deeper loss inside Maggie’s heart. When had this strong-welded change happened? Ryley had always been
her
boy. They used to share dreams, have long talks. But then she realized she couldn’t remember the last time they sat together as she listened to what he said. Her heart tore at the growing gulf between her and her child—because she didn’t know how to fix it.

“Maggie?”

“Huh?” She blinked and gazed up at Richard.

“I asked if you ate. You okay?”

Ryley peeked around his dad watching her, so she forced a smile for his benefit.

“Dad said he’s going to make a big breakfast, I’m starving.” Ryley rattled on, and Richard glowed as Ryley wrapped his arms around his waist and hugged him again, and the entire time Richard’s eyes were fixed on Maggie.

She picked at her fingernail and then reached for her empty mug on the table. Ryley dumped his red and black jacket over an empty chair and tore out of the kitchen, bounding up the stairs to his room while shouting, “Call me when the sausages are ready.”

He never acted that off the wall with her. He was quiet, watched TV, played his Gameboy, read, and went to bed.

“What’s going on in that head of yours?” Richard placed a frying pan on the burner.

She stood up with her mug and walked the long way around the kitchen island to the coffeepot.

“Maggie?” Richard dumped sausages in the hot frying pan and then pulled the eggs from the fridge and a loaf of bread from the freezer. Richard had always been good in the kitchen, and watching him now, she couldn’t figure out what to do. Where to be, where to stand.

“Richard, I don’t belong.”

“What are you talking about?” He popped two slices of bread in the toaster. He continued making breakfast, cracking eggs in a bowl and whipping them with a fork.

“I lost Ryley.”

He dropped the fork in the bowl and set it down. He stepped around the island toward her. “What are you talking about?”

She couldn’t stand still. Her throat burned, and those damn never-ending tears blurred her eyes. “He…with you there… never does that with me.”

Richard shook his head. “You lost me…?”

“Then you hugged and joked and talked, and the way he took off, excited, up the stairs shouting for breakfast… And even the other night when I left… the way you two were talking. He doesn’t do that with me.” She couldn’t stop the choked sob, but shoved a shaking fist to her mouth to try to silence it.
Don’t let Ryley hear.
The warning echoed in her head.

“Shit, Maggie, is that what this is about?” He pulled her roughly to him, and she pressed her face into his chest to stifle her sobs.

She clutched at his shirtfront and held tight even when she pulled back. The fresh air from the outdoors lingered with his scent; he smelled so good. She realized she depended on Richard, and he was fast becoming her crutch. And that may not be wise.

“Maggie. I didn’t want to get into this now. But you put a wall up with everyone… including Ryley. After Lily died, I wasn’t much use, but I pulled it together cause I saw how bad our boy hurt. I let you take him. But Maggie? You didn’t see him.”

Richard held her shoulders, and when she tried to interrupt, he squeezed her gently. “Let me finish. I think it’s time this was said. You don’t realize how bad he still hurts. Did you know he blames himself for Lily’s accident?”

“What! It’s not his fault. It was mine!” She covered her mouth with her shaky hand. “Was it me? Did I blame him?” She rested her palms on Richard’s biceps.

“Stop the blame. You’re going to have to talk to him. And if he says something that hurts, you’re going to have to deal with it. No more running away and hiding. You scare him.”

She blanched and stepped away. Richard didn’t try and stop her.

“What?”

“I didn’t say it to hurt you. You need to take a hard look at yourself. How long has it been since you stopped living? You popped pills to get through the day, then pills to sleep.” She felt the heat in her cheeks and knew her face must be bright red. She covered her ears with both hands and stepped back again, but this time he stepped closer and pulled her hands down.

“You were so whacked out, you didn’t know he gets night terrors, did you?”

Her stomach felt as if the bottom dropped out, like on one of those free falling rides at the fair.

“I won’t let you hide anymore. You’re off the pills. You need to start living again. You can’t keep hiding and pulling the covers over your head. It sucks big time. We got dealt a shitty hand in this life. And there are still days I curse God for the cruel joke he played on us. You know I even believed God was mad at me for all the sketchy things I did with Dan, and that was our punishment. We lost our little girl. It’s horrible. But life goes on. And do you know what?”

She was trembling and mesmerized by the tears glistening in his magnetic blue eyes.

“I hurt, too. Every day I see her, but I hold her inside me, and I’ve learned to go on. Ryley needs me. He needs you. But if you keep pushing him away and wallowing in self-pity and your pain, baby, you’re going to lose him for good. And he’ll hate you.”

The smoke detector beeped. Richard jumped back and hurried to the stove as smoke from the forgotten sausage billowed. He turned off the burner and moved the pan, and then disengaged the alarm on the ceiling behind Maggie.

“Dad, Dad!” Ryley shouted while racing into the kitchen. She didn’t miss the fear that pierced his voice as he reached for his dad.

“Whoa, it’s okay. I just burned the sausage.” Richard laughed while he held Ryley tight and rubbed his back. This time when Richard looked over at her, she saw the warning and how fragile her boy really was, and with it came self-recrimination. What a bad mother she was for turning on him. Why hadn’t she seen the signs? She couldn’t touch him now. He wanted Richard--not her. And she was afraid to find out if he’d push her away. So she stayed safely where she was.

“See? They’re perfect, just the way I like them. Why don’t you go wash up, and this time I’ll start the eggs. They’ll be ready to dish up by the time you get back down.”

Ryley didn’t spare her a passing glance, but she saw how shaken up he was. It wouldn’t take much to set him off. Her kid needed help. He carried an awful burden, and she now realized, in all her grief, she’d forgot about his.

Richard grabbed her arm. “Don’t. You’re not going to creep away, to take this on too, and hide out and lick your wounds. Suck it up, Maggie. Talk to him.”

She gazed longingly at the door as terror filled her and made her want to run outside and hide. Richard must have seen it too, because he raised his eyebrows in a way that sent a clear message: he meant what he said.

The toaster dinged, and Ryley raced back in the kitchen.

“Butter the toast, Maggie.”

She couldn’t speak, so she nodded. At least doing something helped her to stop thinking. She’d worked herself up so much, she’d become untouchable.