Moments In Time (14 page)

She stopped in the pharmacy on the first floor, bought eye shadow, mascara, blush, a lipstick. She headed for the counter with her selections and wondered if they sold condoms. One look at the ste
rn
-faced cashier, a woman of about sixty, and she knew she didn’t have the nerve to ask. She’d just have to remind J.D. She just hoped it wasn’t already too late.

She walked into the coffee shop, looking around for a table, and was surprised to see Rick sitting alone in a booth. She hesitated momentarily, then walked over.

“Is this seat reserved?” she asked. “Do you mind if I join you?”

“Maggie.” She’d startled him. He’d appeared to be deep in thought.

“If you’d rather be alone, it’s okay.” She hesitated, not wanting to intrude if he was not in the mood for some company.

“No, no. Please. Sit down.” H
e motioned to her. “Actually, I
was just thinking about you.”

“About me? Why?” She slid into the booth opposite him.

“Well, about last
night, in the dressing room…”

The waitress stopped at t
he table, took Maggie’s order,
and returned in seco
nds with the requested coffee.

“It’s okay.” She shrugged, recalling the scene with Peter.

“It’s not okay. I should have used my head before I open
ed my big mouth,” he told her.

“I got over it,” she assured him, signaling
the waitress for some cream.

“That’s not good enough.
My words were poorly chosen,
and I’m sorry. I was afraid
that maybe you’d take it the
wrong way, that maybe what I
’d said to Pete caused you to
be unnecessarily
worried, maybe, about J.D.…” He
paused, the ground bec
oming more unstable with every
word.

“It did strike a nerve,” she admitted as she tended to her coffee.

“Maggie, J.D. doesn’t fool around anymore. I’m sure he’s told you that.”

“You’d lie for him even if he did.” Given their longstanding friendship, Maggie knew this was an indisputable fact.

“Yes, I probably would,” he admitted, “but I’m not.”

“Do you encourage him, too, like you did Peter last night?” There was an edge to her voice now.

“Ah, Maggie, it’s all in fun.” He replaced his cup into the saucer and missed, sloshing
some of the brown liquid onto
the table. She handed him a napkin.

“Fun for whom?” she asked with some sarcasm.

“Maggie, I respect you a lot, so don’t take this the wrong way. As long as it doesn’t directly affect you, I don’t see where you get off making a judgment.” Rick put his cup down again, more carefully this time, and locked eyes with her.

“Well, we’ll see just how casual you are some day when one of these young ladies rings your doorbell with a tiny bundle in her hands and you’re burdened with a responsibility you may wish you didn’t have
to deal with.”
I
should bite my tongue for that,
she thought,
I hardly behaved more responsibly last night. Or this morning. Jesus, what a hypocrite I am.

“Well, since abortion is legal in this country now, there doesn’t have to be too many little burdens on anyone,” he said offhandedly.

Their food had been served, and Rick was busy picking tomatoes off his sandwich when he realized she was glaring at him. “What?” he asked.

“Don’t you think that’s a pretty cavalier attitude?” she said stonily.

“It’s better than having a child nobody wants.”

“Having an abortion is nothing you do blithely, Rick. It’s not like having a tooth removed.”

He looked up at her, wondering if she was speaking from firsthand experience. It was none of his business and he knew it. He asked her anyway. “Did you ever have one?”

“No, but two of my friends have. It was not an easy decision for either of them. They both found the experience devastating.”

“Then why’d they do it?”

“It was simply a necessity for each of them at that particular time in their lives. Both have regretted it. And I get a little upset when I hear self-centered, irresponsible men, who can simply walk away from the situation, say things like, Hey, no big deal, just get rid of it.” As she spoke, she wondered what J.D. would do.

“Well, Maggie, all I can say is that I do think sometimes it’s better for people to not be born at all than to be unwanted, unloved, and, yes, a burden for everyone involved. Trust me, Maggie, I’m on much more familiar ground than you are.”

Maggie watched his eyes as he spoke, saw a shadow pass over his face, heard the emotion in his voice.

“What are you saying, that you think your parents didn’t want you?” she heard herself ask.

“I know they didn’t, Maggie.” His voice was very low. She looked up curiously.

“My mother walked out of the h
ospital—alone—three days after I
was bo
rn
and never came back. I haven’t the faintest idea of who she was, who my father was. And quite frankly, I’ve no desire to find out at this point.” He did not
look at her and continued
to pour ketchup on his french
fries as he spoke, as if what he was
saying had little importance.

Maggie sat speechless, unable to even look at him after what must have been a painful admission on his part, for all his attempts to be
blasé
. Finally, she said, “Rick, I’m so sorry. I had no idea.”

“It’s okay, Maggie, you had no way of knowing.” He waved a hand as if t
he whole topic was irrelevant.

“Were you adopted?”

“It was right after the war, Maggie. There were many of us, children without parents
, and life was more than a bit
disrupted in England afte
r the war ended. Not too many
people were looking for stray babies to take in. I grew up in a home with about thirty other boys also without families. We had each other, you know, but none
of us really had anyone…
”

She fought hard to find something to say to him, sensing that he needed comfort and had probably needed comfort for many years in spite of his attitude to the contrary. She found herself at a loss and so said nothing.

Finally, to break the silence, he looked up and said, “And that’s why I think abortion isn’t such a bad idea sometimes.”

“You can’t really believe it would have been better if you’d never been born, Rick. You
couldn’t possibly think that.”

He didn’t answer her.

“Rick, your boorish behavior aside”—they both smiled —“you’re a very gifted musician and, I suspect, a very good person underneath that role you play. I’m sorry there wasn’t anyone there for you when you were growing up. And while I know there’s no consolation in it, for
what it’s worth you should know
that there are people who care about you and who are there for you now. J.D. Me.”

“Thank you, Maggie,” he heard himself say softly, and at that moment, her warm sincerity and genuine sweetness left him no doubt as to why J.D.’s love for her was so deep. Rick
ached for such a woman, one whose heart would never falter, in good times or in bad, through success or failure. Secretly he despaired that he neither deserved nor would ever find such a partner in this life.

J.D. strolled up to the table.

“Well,” said Rick, forcing self-pity aside, “here’s the sleepy old man now.”

“Is there room for one more body in this booth?”

“Always.” Maggie moved over to make room for him.

J.D. draped an arm over her shoulder, telling her, “I missed you being there when I woke up.”

The love that shone in his face was so blatant that Rick had to look away, busying himself pushing french fries around on his plate.

“So tell me, what did you eat?” J.D. asked her.

“Hamburger.”

“Any good?”

“So-so.”

The waitress returned and handed J.D. a menu. He made a quick choice and ate the remaining chips from Maggie’s plate while he and Rick discussed a new guitar arrangement Rick had wanted to try that night. They agreed to work on it after lunch, along with a new song J.D. mentioned he was anxious to perform that night.

“Do you mind, Mags? Would you rather sightsee or something?”

“
Actually, I don’t mind at all. I
brought my running shoes with me and I think I’d like to jog for a while. As a matter of fact, I could run now if you’d give me the key.”

He handed it over and kissed her cheek. “Be careful, please. And don’t get lost.”

She went back to the room and changed, then took the elevator back down to the lobby. Out on the street, she decided to head toward the right, toward a park she could see in the distance. It was a lovely May afternoon, and she found Atlanta much to her liking. She reflected as she ran on how happy she felt at this minute, feeling the concrete under her feet, sniffing the warm breeze, lightly scented with a
hint of floral and new grass. Few things made her feel better than running. She ran what felt to be her normal distance and walked through the park to cool down on her way back to the hotel. She was in a mild lather and felt great.

The lobby was all but deserted when she strolled through to the elevator. She walked into the empty room and stripped off her sweaty clothes, took a shower, dried her hair, and lay down for a short nap. When J.D. got back to the room at 6:45, he woke her from a sound sleep.

“Maggie, it’s late. Wake up, Maggie, we have to leave soon.” He shook her shoulder insistently.

Her eyes opened slowly, obviously against their will. “What time is it?”

“Any chance you could get dressed and ready to go really quickly?”

“No, no chance,” she murmured sleepily.

“Come on, Mags, move the bones.”

“It was the run. I’m not used to running in the afternoon.” She yawned and sat up. "Did you get your song done?”

“Yes.”

“Is it good?”

“It’s a dandy,” he nodded, grinning mischievously as he buttoned his shirt. “You’ll hear it tonight.”

And a dandy it was. She’d sat on the steps that led to the st
age, off to the right side, thr
ee of the crew members seated in front of her to block the way of any errant fans. The closest speaker was twenty feet away, but even at that distance the noise level was unbelievable.
It’s a miracle more people don’t go deaf from this,
she’d been thinking as she heard for the first time the love song he’d written just for her.

“The thought comes to me, from someplace deep within my mind,

The wonder of it—can this be real?—this dream I never thought I’d find.

Lost in you, I’ve found it all, all that life can be.

Sweet, sweet Maggie, can’t believe you’re loving me.”

Maggie sat quietly on the step, attempting to maintain her composure, there in the cavernous room amid thousands of strangers, listening to his voice, watching his face. Memories of that night in Atlanta would return to her in the years to come, and she would always feel that same surge of love for him that she felt that night whenever she recalled it. It was the last city she would travel to that tour, and she would always remember Atlanta as the city where the course of her life had been set.

“That was so wonderful, so beautiful,” she told him as he exited the stage at the conclusion of the performance. “I can’t believe you did that for me. Hey,” she asked as he swept her into the dressing room, “where’s the fire?”

He pushed her through the door that led into the shower area.

“What are you doing?” She watched his face and, seeing both mirth and passion mingled there, protested, “You can’t be serious. For God’s sake, Jamey, what if someone wants to take a shower?”

“They’ll find the door locked and they’ll wait,” he said, grinning.

“Well, just where are you planning on
…”
She
looked around the room, which was devoid of furnishings.

“In the shower, of course,” he replied, smiling into h
er eyes as he unbuttoned his shirt.

“In the shower?” She raised a curious eyebrow. “How do you do it in the shower?”

“Take your clothes off and I’ll show you.”

M
aggie woke at dawn on Monday morning. Her sleep had been troubled, and she was not rested. She turned over and studied J.D.’s face as he slept, smiling as she took in the features she knew so well and loved so deeply. The dark hair tumbled onto his forehead always gave his face the appearance of a man much younger. She wanted to touch him, feel his skin, kiss his mouth. She hesitated, wondering if she
should wake him so early.
This time tomorrow I’ll be home in my own bed,
she reminded herself.
All alone.

She considered the loss of her pills, acutely aware that they’d been playing Russian roulette all weekend.
Oh, God,
she thought,
please let it be all right,
then stopped, knowing that prayer as a means of birth control was an exercise in futility. Love and desire were at war with logic and reason. She was smart enough to know which would win the battle for her will.

She leaned over him and with her fingers traced the lines in his face. He smiled slightly in his sleep. She leaned closer, kissed his cheek, hi
s chin, worked her way to his m
outh, and felt his response, slow at first, then slightly more intense as he began to emerge from his slumber. Her kisses became more insistent, and he answered her need. They took their time, as if they had all the time in the world, knowing it would have to last what would seem like an eternity before they could be together again. He kissed her face, tasted the salty tears, kissing away each one as it slid down her face, holding her as closely as he could. They each searched for something to say that could hold back the gloom that was creeping in around them like a dense fog.

“Come into the shower with me,” he said after they had lain in silence for what seemed to be a long time.

“You have got to be kidding,” she said with raised e
yebrows, “you couldn’t possibly
.”

He laughed. “You’re right. I couldn’t possibly. But I do need a shower. And besides,” his voice softened as he cuddled her, “I still need to be near you. I want to keep the closeness as long as I can. I love you so much, Maggie. I don’t have words to tell you what I feel for you.”

She held him in her arms, memorizing how it felt to hold him, then, knowing time would start to run short before they would have to leave for the airport, pushed him back a bit and said, “I get to set the water temperature this time, though. You damn near froze me out in the dressing room the other night.”

She got up and pulled him with her, pushing him toward the bathroom door.

“That water wasn’t cold, Maggie. It was temperate,” he said innocently.

“It was frigid. I’ll show you temperate. And I get to wash my hair first.”

“Bossy broad,” he murmured. “Jesus, Maggie, this water’s too damned hot.”

“Shut up and pass the shampoo.”

She laughed and pretended to take her time. Finally he reached over and turned the cold water faucet far enough to bring down a steady stream of cool water.

“God, that’s cold!” she protested.

He laughed, picked up the soap she’d dropped when the cool water first hit her, and laughed again as she opened the door and all but jumped into a towel.

She was drying her hair when he came out. She saw the melancholy in his eyes, saw the blues settle into his face. She put her arms around him and held him, smoothed the wet hair from his forehead.

“I’m not whole without you, Maggie,” he told her.

“I know, love. I’m not either.” She bit her lip and held him closer.

“I don’t want you to leave,” he whispered, and she watched the tears form in his eyes. “Stay with me. Please, Maggie.”

“I can’t, Jamey. Not this time.”

He pulled away from her and went into the bedroom. She finished dressing slowly, then followed him. He sat on the edge of the bed, depressed and desolate. She sat behind him and massaged his shoulders.

“Maggie, will you marry me?” she heard him say in a low voice.

She’d not anticipated the question and so sat silently.

“Maggie?”

“J
amey, that’s a big commitment…
”

“I know. And I’m more than willing to make it.” He turned around and took her face in her hands, his fingers tangling the still damp strands of hair around her temple. “Are you?”

“Yes,” she replied simply.

“When
?”

“I don’t know. What do you think?” she asked.

“Today would suit me just fine,” he offered, only half joking.

“Might take a few days to get a license.” She smiled, then suggested, “How about when the tour is over, when your travel’s done.”

“We’ll still have this long, lonely month ahead of us, Maggie.”

“I know, but it will take a while to get the paperwork together, my divorce papers, and I don’t know what you’ll need in the way of forms, since you’re not a citizen. And I want my family to meet you first. And I want to get mar
ried at home, with my family…”

He sighed. “Well, I guess I could last four weeks if I knew for certain I’d never have to be without you again. That we’ll always be together after that month’s over.”

“We will be.” She kissed his chin.

“The minute you get back home, find a calendar and decide on a date. And then call your parents.”

“Uh-uh. I want them to meet you first.” You just didn’t waltz into that house with a stranger and say, “This is Jamey. We’re getting married.”

“When can we do that? I’ll be away for the next four weeks.”

“I’ll see what we can work out. And once the tour is over and you don’t have to leave anymore, will it matter if we get married right away or if we wait a few weeks beyond that? If we’re together, will it matter if we’re married?”

“No, not for a little while. But keep in mind that I’ll need to be going back home before too long, Maggie. And when I do, I’ll be taking you with me, so you’d best get them prepared.”

“I’m not certain of the best way to do that,” she said as she pondered the possibilities.

“Tell them I’m a piano player,” he suggested, “that should break the ice.”

“No good. They’ll be expecting Van Clibum. Or Liberace.”

“Then just tell them I’m with a band.”

“Tommy Dorsey.” She shook her head playfully.

“How ’bout just saying that I sing?”

“Frank Sinatra or
Tony Bennett.”

“A visiting Brit?”

“Prince Philip.”

“Why don’t you just tell them the truth?” he asked pointedly.

“Jamey, my father hates rock music. He’s having a coronary because his only son has taken up the drums. When he finds out who you are, his mind will close like a steel trap.”

“Well, sooner or later, he’ll have to know. And it just seems to me the sooner you get it over with, the better it will be for everyone.”