Meghan's Wish (Love and Danger) (2 page)

She drove to the discount store and bought chocolate milk for Fiona,
such a beautiful name
, imagining the girl might come over for a visit. On a whim, she filled her cart with Christmas ornaments, then she drove to where the boy scout troop was selling real Christmas trees, and bought a beauty for Meghan's apartment.

Like a child who finds someone else's puppy, she selfishly ignored whatever had brought them to her. Meghan and Fiona gave her the first sunshine, the first taste of love, since her Bill passed away.

But she would give it all up in an instant, if it meant Fiona could be well again.

“What are you talking about?” asked Meghan.

 “I'm talking about the two of you. You and your daughter. Where you came from, what happened that brought you here.”

Meghan stared at her hands as she fiddled with something small. “Why are you asking me now, Rhea?”

“Because it's time. Where is that baby's father?”

Meghan gazed at the tree. “I don't know. We left him in Connecticut.”

“Did he hurt you?”

“No, but I was afraid of him.” She uncrossed her legs, stretching them out before her on the soft rug. “He was burning down buildings—the grocery where he used to work, his parents’ house. The building where we first made love.”

Rhea shook her head, shocked by what she was hearing.

“The first fire was before we left Largo. Liam was implicated, but I thought he was being set up by someone else.” She scoffed. “Turns out, that was just what I wanted to believe.”

“They say love is blind.”

“And foolish. I walked away from my family to start a life with a boy who was lying to me and running from the law.”

“You must have loved him very much.”

The corner of Meghan’s lip turned down. “I did.”

“I wondered why you sometimes seem so sad,” said Rhea quietly. “Is it because of him?”

Meghan nodded as she wiped at the tears on her cheeks. “And I miss my family.”

“Why didn’t you go home when you left him?”

“Honestly? I told myself it was because he’d be able to find us there. But I think that was only part of the reason.” She took a shaky breath in, exhaling loudly. “I don’t think my family can forgive me.”

Rhea knew a thing or two about forgiveness, and knew it would be difficult for anyone to turn these lovely women away. “I think it’s time you find out.”

Meghan shook her head, looking at Rhea like she was crazy. “I'm not going back there.”

“You have to.  Fiona can stay with me.”

“They hate me.”

“I doubt that very much, but regardless, you have no choice.”

“I'm going to hold a donor drive. I’ll contact the radio and TV stations, and the newspaper. The community will support her. We’ll get people tested.”

Rhea leaned forward. “You’re looking for a needle in a haystack, instead of going to the sewing store. Does Liam have brothers and sisters?”

“His family doesn't even know Fiona exists!”

“So you'll need to tell them. How many brothers and sisters?”

Meghan stood, taking Rhea's empty glass into the kitchen. “Three brothers and a sister.”

Rhea closed her eyes and sighed. “That’s someplace to start. They might even have kids by now, too, which would mean cousins who could be tested for Fiona.”

“The odds still aren’t good. You know that.” Meghan cursed under her breath. “I don't want to go to those people. What if they tell Liam?”

“Then you will deal with him face-to-face. It's time to stop running from the past, Meghan. That baby needs her family more than she needs you right now.”

~~~

Liam bent at the waist, driving his shovel beneath eighteen inches of heavy, wet snow. He was sweating and hot despite the frigid weather, the hard work compensating for his lightweight jacket.

He’d been at it for more than an hour, his muscles aching from the punishing task. It was the numbness in his mind that Liam was after, a trance-like calm that he couldn’t get from the snow blower parked in the garage.

God knows he needed to be numb right now.

It was just after dark, his breath making little clouds in the triangle of light that shined on his driveway. Up and down the street, neighbors’ Christmas lights heralded a season that Liam found difficult to tolerate.

Eight years they’ve been gone, almost to the day.

In that time, he had learned to breathe in and out, despite having no desire to do so. He had been beaten down, paid a debt to society that he never even owed. Created a life for himself that included a thriving business and a beautiful home, neither of which meant a damn thing without them.

Liam couldn’t look at a tree or a candy cane without feeling the crush of longing and regret. They were gone, his wife and his little girl, and they were not coming back. His shovel scraped the pavement, the rhythm of the sound marching forward like time itself.

He was worse today than usual, having dreamed about Meghan last night. His unconscious mind held no grudges against his traitorous wife, remembering only the tangle of their bodies, the fevered pitch of their lovemaking, the touch of her soul against his own.

The dream had left him aching, desperate and angry, knowing full well that no other woman could satisfy this desire. He stopped shoveling and straightened his back, allowing his tightened muscles to stretch. A full moon graced the night sky, illuminating the world below.

“Damn you, Meghan O’Connor. Damn you straight to hell.”

~~~

Meghan stopped for gas just outside of Stockbridge, the snow-covered ground reflecting the bright winter sun. She was close enough to Largo that the landscape reminded her of home, the Berkshires rising up from all sides like great, wholly arms. She followed the sign for gas from the interstate, up a meandering hill that was oddly familiar. It wasn't until she pulled in front of The Galaxy Diner and Gas Station that her mind snapped to attention.

She and Liam had stopped here the night they left Largo.

Suddenly, she missed him so acutely that she moaned aloud, her lips curling into a frown. Her heart was prone to forgetting that she didn’t love her husband anymore.

She shook her head and sat up straighter in her seat, turning the wheel to pull up to the pump. She opened her door just as a man in a heavy winter coat bent his head to her window.

“What can I get for ya?” he asked.

“Fill it up with regular, please.”

Meghan's gaze fixed at a point in the distance, the memory of her last day in Largo coming to life before her eyes.

It was glorious and sunny, the summer air humid and still. Becky had lied for Meghan, telling their parents they were going to the park, when really the girls met Liam at Hunter’s Point—a wide, grassy field where the creek ran shallow over a rocky bed.

Liam taught Becky how to catch crayfish in the cold water, while Meghan lounged on a boulder, soaking up the sun. When Becky climbed a tree across the creek, Liam joined Meghan.

“How was work?” she asked him.

He skipped a rock into the rushing creek. “Not so good.” He picked up another handful of rocks. “I got fired.”

She sat up, shading her eyes from the sun. “Why?”

“The police found my pocketknife at the old mill,” said Liam. “Officer Spaulding must have mentioned it to his wife, because she remembered I used it to open a crate of pears for her right at the end of my shift that day. They can prove I was there, Meghan.”

“Lots of people go to the old mill. That doesn’t mean anything.”

Liam nodded, throwing more rocks. “After Grimley fired me, I walked out to the parking lot and Spaulding was waiting for me. He took me to the stationhouse for questioning.”

“All because of a pocketknife?”

“No.” He stopped throwing rocks and turned to look at her. “Ricky Powell told Spaulding he saw me that night, walking down Main Street with a gas can.”

Fear seeped into Meghan’s brain, knowing that an accusation like that could mean serious trouble for Liam. “But that’s a lie. Why would he say that?”

Even as she said the words, she knew.

Ricky had been asking Meghan out for years, but recently he'd grown more insistent, calling on the phone, walking too close to her in the hallway. He even left a letter in her school bag, telling her she was beautiful.

Liam threw the last of his rocks and put his hands in the pockets of his shorts. “He wants you to himself, Meghan. He was standing right there when I showed up for work and Grimley fired me, like he wanted me to know he had something to do with it.”

“I’ll tell Sheriff Spaulding you were with me.”

He shook his head. “That will just ruin your reputation. I was still there when you left, remember?”

She reached out and laid her hand on his arm. “Then I’ll lie.”

He smiled a humorless smile. “It’s not going to come to that.”

“What do you mean?”

“If they arrest me, ain’t nobody in this town going to give a Wheaton a fair trial.”

She wanted to tell him he was wrong. She wanted to hold him forever, keep him safe from the people who couldn't see what she saw every time she looked into his eyes.

“I'm leaving town, Meghan.”

Her face fell. “No!”

“Yes. Tomorrow,” he swallowed, turning to look into her eyes.  “Don’t you see? I don’t have another choice. I lost my job, Ricky’s out to get me, and the sheriff’s just biding his time before he arrests me. I need a fresh start. Someplace I can just be me, not Chip Wheaton’s son.”

“Then I'm coming with you.”

“No,” he said, shaking his head, and she thought she could see an extra shine in his eyes. “Your family and your life are here. I'm not going to let you give that up for me.”

She reached out and touched his face. “You are my family and my life now, Liam. I'm pregnant.”

His shocked expression held something else—a spark of wonder, a touch of joy. “
What?”

“Pregnant,” she said softly.

He pulled her against him in a fierce embrace.

“So now you have to take me with you,” she whispered.

He pulled back to look at her. “You're not just saying that so I'll take you?”

She shook her head. “I found out on Tuesday, I just didn't know how to tell you.”

“A baby...” he said, tears now clearly visible along his lashes. “I love you, Meghan O’Connor.”

“I love you, too, Liam.”

A sharp rap at her window made her jump, and Meghan fumbled for her purse. “Ancient history,” she said to herself. That was fifteen years earlier. She didn’t even recognize the naïve girl she had been. She drove down the hill and got back on the interstate toward Largo, less than an hour away from her parents’ house.

~~~

Becky O'Connor went all-out at Christmastime.

Her 1920s bungalow was covered in fat colored lights, their strands wound around the posts of her chunky front porch like gumdrops on a gingerbread house. The living room window showcased a glorious evergreen, the lawn graced with miniature Christmas trees that followed the meandering path of the walkway.

Inside, the smell of spicy chili permeated the air, along with the tang of wood smoke from a fire in the hearth. The table was set with fancy dishes and cloth napkins in preparation for the meal to come.

Becky opened a bottle of wine as she sang along to “Rockin’ Around the Christmas Tree”.  Her long red hair hung in two thick plaits on either side of her head, like a child. She wore a T-shirt that said “In your dreams” and a pair of jeans that hugged her feminine curves. Her feet were bare, her toenails painted bright pink.

Her parents’ flight should have gotten in almost an hour ago. Tom and Patty O'Connor bought a place in Florida when they retired, and they lived there most of the year. They returned to Massachusetts for the holidays and the high summer months, but didn't bother to open their house for the shorter of the two trips. Becky's home was the new home base for Christmas, and she loved every minute of it.

She’d just gotten back in town the day before, having spent several days in New York City for her best friend Julie’s wedding. Julie married Hank Jared, who she met last Christmas when he was a Navy officer investigating Julie’s father’s murder—or so it had seemed at the time. The wedding had been spectacular—a holiday themed wedding that included the entire bridal party ice skating in Central Park.

Wandering into the front room, Becky danced and twirled, her braids swinging from side to side as she remembered the DJ playing this same song at the wedding.  She had danced with a handsome groomsman named Pete, one of two she flirted with throughout the reception.

Meghan stood on the other side of Becky’s front window in an icy wind, tiny shards of freezing rain pelting her as she watched her baby sister, all grown up and beautiful, dancing.

It had taken Meghan forty-five minutes to get the courage to step out of her car, just as Becky appeared in the large picture window and stopped Meghan in her tracks.

Little sobs mixed with laughter as she watched Becky dance, making Meghan’s nose run and sniff. Her gut ached for every time she had missed Becky, the price of her exile never before so plain.

She might have stayed there on the sidewalk all night, but a car turned down the residential street, it’s headlights prodding her toward the door. She reached up and knocked before she could think better of it.

The high-pitched barking of a little dog cold be heard before the door opened and Becky appeared, her prominent green eyes widening at the apparition before her.

“Hi, Monkey.” Meghan said softly.  She knew she was a mess, her eyes red and teary. She hadn’t meant to use the old endearment, but the word wanted to be said more than she cared to keep it inside.

Becky slapped her hand over her mouth. “Meghan!” she screeched, opening her arms and pulling her sister to her. Then they were both crying, clutching each other.

“It’s freezing out here!” said Becky, flashing Meghan a brilliant smile. “Come in, come in.”  The women hugged for long moments before finally stepping back.

“I tried Mom and Dad’s house first, but no one was home,” Meghan said. “Do they still live on Becker?”

“Well…”

A knock sounded at the door.