Love in Maine (15 page)

It was like Maddie was drunk.

On life.

That’s probably why Janet had come to love her. Because that’s what had happened.
It wasn’t some misdirected mother-daughter thing. Janet just adored the way Maddie
looked at life and found it all so exciting and promising. That was the way Janet
had probably always wanted to look at the world—through clear-eyed, rosy glasses—but
the only way Janet could achieve that was in a bottle. To see someone who did it on
the air? That had captured Janet in a way that a bottle of Jack never could.

Hank turned away quickly, pretending that he wanted to pay close attention to one
of the vintage fire trucks that had driven over from New Hampshire for the festivities.

“Do you like it, Hank?” Maddie asked in a near whisper.

She wasn’t even overly close to his ear. But he felt her close. He felt her voice
as if she were breathing hot and tight against him, even when she was a few feet away.

“It’s all right, I guess.” Remaining ambivalent was becoming more and more difficult.
Maybe that was progress. Maybe that meant he was getting better. But he didn’t feel
better. He felt like he was coming apart at the seams, in slow rips that were going
to make all of his insides slip out. And he resented that Maddie was the one who was
making him feel that way. He resented that it was so easy for her to be jubilant and
connected. To be a part of life.

When he wasn’t.

Janet’s library friend left and a little while later Phil showed up and sat down next
to Janet. At one point he looked past Hank and Janet to make eye contact with Maddie.
She smiled, and he winked. Maddie was so happy for Janet, who had obviously been trying
to keep their burgeoning relationship under wraps until she knew how far it would
go.

From the way the two of them were holding hands in front of the entire town, it looked
like things were very unwrapped. And going far.

Maddie had a little shudder as she realized how much she wished Hank would hold her
hand like that, to tell the world that they were together (which they weren’t), to
take possession of her (which he never would), or just to feel the warmth of his skin
against hers (which would feel lovely).

She must have sighed aloud. Hank turned to look at her again. She knew her freewheeling,
emotional outbursts drove him crazy, but it wasn’t like she could change who she was.
And he hadn’t even seen the half of it.

“You okay?” he asked.

“Sure, fine. Just enjoying the festivities.” She smiled quickly and then set her face
back to a stony mask, taking in the fire trucks. Concentrating. Watch me be a reliable,
unemotional, normal person watching a parade, she thought.

“You want to go out tonight?” he asked.

“What do you mean? We are out—”

He shook his head. “Never mind.”

“No.” She reached for his forearm—digging her fingers into his skin too hard and too
quickly—and then pulled her hand away. “Please. Yes. I would love to go out with you
tonight—” Jesus. Why did he have to make her feel so desperate? Maddie wondered. She
was going to make him pay for that in bed one day, if she ever got the chance. She
would make him beg or cry out or grab at the nape of her neck and demand things of
her, things that only she could provide in that moment of wanting. Because right now
he was making her feel so needy, and she didn’t want to be alone in that.

She knew she’d be alone after. She had spent much of the past few weeks making all
sorts of deals with the devil about what she would be compromising if she actually
slept with him. The risks were pretty vast. If he bolted emotionally the way he did
after the canoe trip, well, she argued with herself, at least she could know that
it was all about him and his screwed-up isolation issues. Not about her.

Because that always worked. Knowing it wasn’t about her. Yeah, that was so comforting.

Not.

She shook her head and whispered, “Oh, never mind.”

He reached over, like a thirteen-year-old boy might reach for a girl’s hand the first
time he went to the movies without his mom there. Tentatively and so sweetly. So cautious.

He held her hand like that, fingers intertwined, both of their hands resting on his
strong thigh, as the fire trucks passed by in a dreamy blur. Maddie had a brief vision
of being so unwilling to remove her fingers from his that the parade would finish
and the people would disperse and night would descend and the bits of stray garbage
would be floating down the middle of the dark street like a tumbleweed in a ghost
town, and there the two of them would be sitting, still quietly holding hands on the
side of the road. Content.

“I’ll pick you up at eight,” he said.

She smiled so broadly. It was only half past two in the afternoon. And he was still
holding her hand in that public, possessive way that told the world they were
more than friends
. And she could relax into the
now
because he had just offered a beautiful
later
. It didn’t get much better than—

“Guess who!” Two strong male hands covered her eyes from behind. She could hear immature
masculine laughter and recognized the sound of Zander’s voice right away. Hank’s hand
shook free, and Maddie thought she might burst into tears at the loss of those strong
fingers in hers. Then the rage of Zander Dalgliesh spoiling her perfect moment overrode
every other feeling.

Maddie pushed the jerk’s hands away from her face and jumped up with a spring that
years of squats had given her.

“What is your problem, Zander?”

He was looking down at Hank, who was looking at the fire trucks and ignoring . . .
everyone and everything.

“Zander!” Maddie barked.

“Hey, beautiful!” Zander reached up to caress Maddie’s cheek, and she swatted him
away before he could make contact.

“Cut it out!”

“Aren’t you going to introduce us to your friends?” He said “friends” in a way that
made Maddie despise him. Unforgivably. For the rest of his life. Because he said it
in a challenging, collusive way that made it seem like Zander and Maddie were cut
from the same cloth and—even though Maddie might pretend to be friends with
those people
—that Zander and everyone else knew that she was always going to end up behind the
wheel of a late-model BMW that her husband had bought her for Valentine’s Day. Different
cloth.

“Yes!” Maddie beamed. “Zander Dalgliesh, this is Henry Gilbertson and his mother Janet.
And this is Phil Campbell, who owns the diner here in town.”

The other three looked up from the curb, Janet smiling widely and reaching up awkwardly
to shake hands with Zander.

“Nice to meet you,” Zander said to Janet. He was almost sincere. He turned back to
face Maddie with that fake, doe-eyed, I’ve-missed-you-baby look in his eyes. Maddie
could feel Hank’s stiff back like a physical thing weighted against her.

“Thanks for saying hi, Zan. Have a good summer—” Maddie tried to fob him off with
a quick good-bye, beginning to turn away before she finished speaking.

“Hey! Wait a minute! It’s me, baby! Get over here—”

He reached for her waist and tried to pull her into a quick hug. She smelled the beer
on his breath and felt Hank rise up behind her and saw Janet’s eyes cloud and all
sorts of ragged bits of information were pelting her senses and she couldn’t process
what was actually happening.

“Zander! Stop!” Maddie pushed herself away from him, and then almost fell backward
as Hank doubled the momentum of the movement, pulling her flush against him with his
strong hands at her hips.

Zander stared at Maddie with a disbelieving look on his arrogant, handsome face. “Who
is this guy?” Zander jutted his chin at Hank without ever looking at him.

“Zander,” Maddie said, proud of how steady her voice was, and feeling slightly guilty
for how good it felt to have Hank’s strong, thick fingers digging into the waist of
her shorts and his thumbs pressed into the skin at her lower back. “This is my
really good
friend Henry Gilbertson. Get it?”

Zander’s expression was incredulous. “You’re fucking this guy?!”

Hank’s fist flew so fast and so close to Maddie’s ear before it slammed into Zander’s
face that she didn’t even understand what had happened. They’d all been standing there
and then—
poof!
—Zander Dalgliesh was lights-out on the sidewalk. Denny and two other guys from their
frat whose names Maddie couldn’t remember stared down at their friend’s limp body.

“Whoa,” Denny commented. “Nice hit, dude.” Then he took a sip of his beer.
What a pal
, Maddie thought. The other two were equally disinclined to bend down and check on
their friend’s well-being.

Phil and Janet had also stood up, physically and emotionally backing up Hank. Maddie
could feel his breath against her neck.

“You okay?” he asked Maddie.

A policeman was making his way over. He’d been standing about ten feet away, talking
to Sharon and her in-laws who’d come to town for the holiday weekend. The cop was
named Steve, and Maddie had served him coffee a bunch of times.

“Hey, Maddie, what happened?”

“Hey, Steve. This guy kind of grabbed me, and I tried to push him away, and then he
said something really rude . . . so . . . Hank punched him.”

Steve stared at Hank and Janet and Phil.

“Hank?”

“Yes, sir.”

“It’s me, Steve. Cut it out with the yessir stuff. What happened? You okay?”

Hank’s hold began to loosen on Maddie’s waist, and she quickly put her hands over
his to keep him attached to her. And to let him know that she was with him. Supporting
him.

“It’s like Maddie said,” Hank told Steve.

Zander was starting to come around. Denny squatted down.

“You got totally nailed, dude.”

Zander stared with vacant, disoriented eyes, first at Denny, then up to Maddie. He
looked at her with a combination of rage and shame. Then he caught the way Hank was
staring at him and he levered himself up to a standing position and dusted himself
off.

Denny stood up next to him.

Steve stared at Zander without asking him any questions or encouraging him in any
way.

Finally, Steve rested his right hand on the handle of his gun in that quintessential
that’s-right-I-am-the-one-with-the-gun-here gesture, and said, “You all right, son?”

Steve couldn’t have been much older than thirty, so the
son
had a little hint of aggression behind it. Kind of like,
You getting me, buddy?

Zander looked slightly cornered, and Maddie almost felt sorry for him. But not really.
It felt great to see the moment when he realized he was just a prick.

“Yeah, I’m fine. I must have just fallen down.”

Denny and the other two frat guys started laughing. “That’s for sure.” And “You always
were clumsy.” And “This old sidewalk is pretty uneven. Watch your step next time,
Dog-man!” The four of them regrouped and started to walk off.

Lifting his plastic cup in a salute, Denny turned back to Maddie and said, “Always
a pleasure bumping into you, Post.” Then he turned, and all four guys started laughing
again at his rapier wit.

She probably would have run after him and scratched him in the face if Hank hadn’t
been holding her in place.

“Let them go, babe.”

And nothing really mattered after that because he was leaning in close to her ear
when he said it, and it was so sweet, and he really cared about her. It didn’t matter
if he freaked out and ran off and never saw her again, she was going to get this man
in bed and make sure he knew how much she cared for him.

She turned out of his hold. “I hate to be a downer, but I think I want to go home
and chill out for a little while.”

Janet was still standing just beyond Hank, with Phil on her right. “Oh, I’ll walk
home with you, sweetie. The parade’s almost finished.”

“No it’s not!” Maddie smiled. “There are probably two more hours at least. You all
stay. I’ll be fine. I just want an iced tea and to be quiet for a little while. I’m
totally fine.”

Janet looked at Phil. Phil looked at Hank.

“I’m definitely walking home with you. No point in arguing.” Hank took her hand in
his and then turned to his mom. “Thanks.”

Janet tilted her head, and her mouth tightened as she held her emotions in check.
“You are a good man, Hank.”

He looked embarrassed. “Bye, Phil.”

“Bye, Hank. Bye, Maddie,” Phil said.

Hank guided Maddie through the crowd in the opposite direction from the one Zander
and his friends had taken. They took the first right onto Ash Street, and it was almost
immediately deserted. It felt strange to have been in the midst of all those humming
crowds and then to be suddenly dropped into this silence. Hank looked mad. He started
walking a little bit faster, and Maddie picked up her pace.

She had hoped they might duck behind one of the big oak trees that sprawled in some
of the yards on the sloped road that led back up to his place. She wanted to kiss
him so badly. It was terrible to admit how that punch had made her want to kiss him.
She felt like some vaporish medieval heroine who wanted to give her handkerchief to
her knight-errant to carry in battle.

Hank seemed like he just wanted to deliver her home as quickly as possible and be
done with the whole stupid fracas.

He was practically dragging her the last few feet up the driveway, and she assumed
he was going to lead her into his mother’s house, pour her the ameliorative glass
of iced tea, and leave her be. She started to let go of his hand and lean toward Janet’s
front door, but Hank’s hold on her only tightened and he pulled her along with even
more abrupt power.

Toward his place.

Up the steps.

Pounding.

He didn’t let go of her hand when he reached into his front pocket and pulled out
the single key to his front door. How he remained so steady, so focused, Maddie would
never know. She only knew that her heart was hammering so hard she was beginning to
lose some of her hearing. The blood was pounding in a way that made her eardrums throb.
He-wants-me-he-wants-me
, the beat seemed to hammer away. He pushed the door open, pulled Maddie in, kicked
the door shut, and tossed the single key into the small bowl on the table next to
the front door.