Magnolia Storms

by Janet W. Ferguson

  Shrimp boil at my place tonight.

  All he had to do was see if she answered. No stress.

  A couple squeezed past him to get near the front cooler. Boy, business was hopping. Apparently plenty of residents were staying in town despite the possible storm. So far. Josh held out his card to the cashier when it was his turn. Once he took this food home, he’d go by the bakery. Maybe he’d pick up some beignets and take them to the antique store with some good coffee. That might sweeten the deal about the dinner assignment. Pastries and helping with the store so Maggie could make the lunch visit with Cammie.

  When he finished the transaction, he scooped J.D. up to his hip, propped the bag of food on the other arm, and headed out to the car. “Let’s get underway.”

  “Aye, aye, captain.” J.D. squeezed both of Josh’s cheeks. “It’s going to be so good. We’ll make ’em spicy, right?”

  “So hot, it’ll burn their nose hair.”

  “That’s gross, Daddy. No.”

  They reached the truck, and Josh strapped J.D. into the seat.

  “Okay. We won’t burn their noses, but hot enough to make their eyes water, at least, right?” He tweaked J.D.’s chin and waited for an answer.

  “Yeah. A little bit of burning is good.” His son’s lips poked out as they curved upward. He couldn’t get much cuter if he tried.

  “Joshua David Bergeron, you know what?”

  “What, Daddy?”

  Josh pressed a kiss on J.D.’s forehead. “I’ll love you longer than the Mississippi River and wider than the Gulf of Mexico.”

  “I love you bigger than the world.” His small hand, which had that little bit of baby plumpness still filling out his fingers, rubbed the place Josh had kissed. “You have scratchy kisses, Daddy.”

  “I can’t help being manly.” Nuzzling close again, Josh mussed J.D’s hair. “You complaining?”

  “No.” Another giggle rolled out. “But, Miss Maggie’s kisses are soft.”

  A memory of her breached the walled-off places in his mind. Sharp and explosive, the pain hit.

  He’d held her in his arms, saying goodbye to her before he’d left for Kings Point, New York. She’d kissed him at least a hundred times—sweet, soft, and breathless, promising she’d wait for him. If only he’d known the monster lurking in the deep, he might’ve made other plans. He might’ve waited a year to start the maritime academy. But a couple of months changed everything. Maggie’d been okay with his plans to become a pilot until...August twenty-ninth, 2005.

  He sucked in a gulp of air and moved to the driver’s seat. His knuckles whitened on the steering wheel. Maybe he should’ve come back, given up the appointment and helped Maggie and her mother. But Mr. Marovich had been so proud of Josh’s acceptance to the academy. Said he loved him like his own son, and that love had spurred Josh with the determination he needed to follow in the man’s footsteps.

  “Are you crying, Daddy? Your eyes are wet.” J.D. called from the backseat.

  Sniffing, Josh smeared his hand across his face, sweeping away any trace of moisture. “I’m thinking about those spicy shrimp tonight.” He pressed on a smile for his son and slipped on his sunglasses. He’d wash his face and shave before going to Cammie’s store. No sense letting Maggie see that he’d been blubbering like a baby.

  Josh checked his phone once more before turning the key. No text from Maggie yet, but she might still be busy with customers. Or she might be ignoring his messages like she’d done years ago.

  Except that one time. That one time, she’d emailed. You know what I’ve asked. Don’t call again if nothing’s changed.

  THE POWDERED SUGAR of the beignet melted on Maggie’s tongue, no doubt before going straight to her hips. Oh, how that man knew her preferences. There was nothing like the sweetened fried nuggets of dough and a cup of stout coffee.

  “So you’re okay with me making dinner? Angie said you were open to accepting the help.” Josh interrupted her confectionary bliss of sugar and fat. He reached toward her cheek, but hesitated. “You got some right there.”

  Maggie swiped at her face, feeling for what was probably a mess there. Beignets were impossible to eat without getting doused in the white sugar.

  His blue eyes twinkled with mischief. “That made it worse.” He grabbed a stack of napkins off the checkout counter and stepped closer. Too close. “Let me.”

  Though her heart thrummed in her chest at his proximity, she held still. If she ate another one, she’d do so in the back room like the kids and Aunt Ruth had. Out of sight.

  “This feels familiar. You were always a bit untidy with these. Remember our trips to New Orleans?” Josh’s mouth twitched as if he were holding back a smile. He tossed the napkins in the trash can under the register.

  Of course she remembered riding over to Louisiana, sitting close to him in his truck. Warmth flooded her chest. They thought they were so grown up walking on the river front, listening to jazz, stopping in at Café Du Monde for coffee.

  Finally, clear of food and Josh, Maggie pressed sanitizer into her hands and wiped them with another napkin before returning to her open laptop next to the cash register. “Are you going to make fun of my untidiness if we eat with you tonight? I mean boiled shrimp have to be peeled.”

  “Probably. I’ll make sure I have a lot of paper towels. Or I can peel them for you, ma’am.”

  He still loved toying with her. And she wanted to love it, too, still. Angie’s assessment of long-held bitterness came to mind. Could she let that go? Her mom used to say to take a step in obedience, and the emotions would follow eventually. Would that work for all the hurt she’d pent up? “That won’t be necessary.”

  “But you’re okay with the idea. Angie said—”

  “I forgive you.” Blurting and getting it over with seemed easiest. Now to see if her mother’s advice would ring true.

  Blinking, Josh cocked his head, his features softened. “What?” His voice was barely a whisper.

  “I forgive you.” Her nose stung. Her eyelids, too. She wouldn’t cry. She’d done too much of that lately. “For not coming back to help. Angie said I hadn’t...that I was bitter.” She swallowed past the tightening in her throat. “She was right, I guess... We can be sort of friends, like adults, Christian adults, should do.”

  Moisture welled up near Josh’s lower lashes, breaking a wide crack in Maggie’s defenses. She pressed her thumb into her palm.

  “I’m so sorry, Maggie.” His hand rested over both of hers. “I hurt you. I didn’t know how much back then. I was young, and you’re right, I was stubborn, and I didn’t realize what you were going through. I’m really sorry.”

  The words seeped in and covered some of the old wounds like a salve, smoothing a bit of the jagged edges of the scars. She would let him help, and she would try to be friends. Until this mess sorted out. The anger she’d been clinging to had been using up emotional energy. She could see that now. And they were supposed to be grown up Christian adults.

  The intensity of the moment overwhelming her, she stepped toward her computer and moved the mouse, awakening the screen.

  Josh stepped next to her to look over her shoulder. “Not looking at the weather?”

  “Already checked.” The variabilities crowded her mind. “The storm strengthened to a category two but made a turn toward Texas. Who knows?” She sure didn’t, but she kept praying the beast away. Not that she wanted the western state to be hit either. “I started looking at business plans for antique stores and other ways to increase Cammie’s income. I’m working on a list of ideas to run by her.”

  Leaning closer, Josh squinted at the screen. “Sell more volume of smaller, lower priced items. Local pottery. Working with a decorator and a local artist.” Smiling, he bumped her shoulder with his. “Look at you. Not just a weather girl. I like it.”

  “Thanks.” His praise shot heat to her cheeks. Why did everything Josh do bring about such intense reactions? “We’ll see what Cammie thinks about my ideas to raise
the profits.”

  “She’ll love that you’re taking an interest. Like I love that you’re taking an interest in J.D.”

  His kindness floated over her, soaked her with sweetness. She wished it could last. Yes, she forgave him, but it didn’t mean she could give her heart to a pilot.

  Chapter 14

  NOW SHE’D PRETTY MUCH have to invite Josh to Thanksgiving lunch, with him fixing dinner and helping at the store. Maggie grabbed her purse and shut off the lights behind the cash register.

  The key stuck in the deadbolt, so she gave it a good jerk. Finally it clanked into the lock, and she walked quickly to the car to join Dahlia and Aunt Ruth.

  “All done.” Maggie slid her seatbelt on and clicked it into position. “I don’t know about y’all, but I’m ready to get home.”

  “Me, too. Can I see your phone?” Dahlia held her hand over the seat.

  A small chuckle slipped out. “Yeah, but no texting pretending to be me.”

  “Okay.” The word drew out into two long syllables. “It was one time.” Dahlia produced headphones and plugged them in her ears.

  “That I know of,” Maggie mumbled. Dahlia had heard the text inviting them to the shrimp boil earlier and had been about to answer Josh’s message before asking for permission. Note to self, number thirty-one, never leave cell phone unattended with a ten-year-old girl in the room. She’d have a whole book of anecdotes by the time this mess cleared up.

  If it cleared up.

  It had to.

  After she made the night deposit at the bank, the darkness deepened, causing the hour to feel more like midnight. Maybe she could fix a plate and bring it back to the house, claiming fatigue. Which would be true. Having dinner provided for a while would be nice. She wouldn’t have to think about what to feed Dahlia and Aunt Ruth, could rest a bit, then go to the hospital for a visit. As long as Josh wasn’t the one to deliver every time. Just because they were trying to be friends didn’t mean they had to be around each other constantly.

  Along the short drive, white lights sparkled from branches of the live oaks and swayed in the wind. The business district glittered with the illuminations year round, but a few residents must’ve gotten into the Christmas spirit early. Good grief. It was still the Saturday before Thanksgiving. Why did people get in such a hurry? Plus, it seemed silly to decorate when the storm would likely rip off both branches and trimming.

  Cars lined the curbs on Aunt Ruth’s street. Families visiting loved ones already. No one seemed to be evacuating at all. Of course, hurricanes this late in the season were rare, and the new trajectory aimed the storm westward. But still.

  Usually Cammie, Dahlia, and Aunt Ruth spent Thanksgiving Day at Maggie’s house in Jackson. Then they’d rush home to work at the store on Black Friday. Not this time. She’d be the one manning the shop.

  Lord, I wish things were back to normal.

  An unwanted vision came to mind. The lonely Thanksgiving evenings after her family left. Watching old movies or reading. Volunteering to work the rest of the holiday so other Weather Service employees could spend time with their families.

  Aunt Ruth’s driveway came into view. Next door, the front porch lights shone at Josh’s as if he were welcoming them home. Her stomach growled. A hot supper waiting for her after work was a nice treat. And rare in her world, except for an occasional invite from a coworker or church family. Most of the time, she ate out with a friend or had a bowl of cereal at home. Alone.

  “Here we are.” Ignoring her seesawing emotions, Maggie pressed on a smile as she slowed to a stop and put the car in park in Aunt Ruth’s drive. “Want to go get the food at Josh’s before we go home?” Speaking his name so casually still stung, even with her new determination to move past all the negativity.

  “Sure,” Dahlia said, “I’m starving.”

  “My phone.” Maggie held her hand out.

  Dahlia took off across the yards as if she hadn’t heard a word.

  Wind caught Maggie’s car door, tore it from her grasp, and swung it open wide. Springing out, she slammed the thing and hurried around to help her elderly aunt on the passenger side. They didn’t need two people laid up. Maggie grabbed the handle and made sure the door opened slowly. She’d get the phone later.

  “Take my arm, Aunt Ruth. A gale is ablowin’.” Without thinking, she’d mimicked her father’s playful banter again. This place was taking over her brain. No telling how bad the habit would be by the time she left.

  Aunt Ruth patted Maggie’s hand. “Isn’t it sweet how little Josh and his son are making us dinner?”

  “He’s not little. He’s over six feet.” Even taller than when they’d been in high school.

  “I love a spicy shrimp boil. He’s a fine man. A good daddy.”

  Oh, yeah. Sink the dull knife deeper into her heart. Maggie carefully led her aunt over the wet grass.

  “That darling J.D. needs a good, loving mama to be there for him. A small child needs a maternal figure in his life.” Aunt Ruth stopped and gave Maggie a pointed look.

  One that split her in two. “I don’t know what to say to that.”

  “Actions speak louder than words, dear. Listen to your heart.”

  This conversation was quickly becoming a greeting card commercial. A clichéd one at that. She led her aunt forward and onto the steps.

  The door swung open, and J.D. ran onto the porch, his bare feet patting the concrete. “Miss Maggie! Come eat the strimp I made you.”

  How precious. “I can’t wait to try it. Thank you for cooking dinner for us.” A mother might tell him he shouldn’t come outside barefoot in November, though it was still in the upper sixties. But she wasn’t his mother.

  Once she and Aunt Ruth made it off the top stair and onto the porch, J.D.’s fingers caught hers. “You sit by me.”

  So much for taking the food back to Aunt Ruth’s. Garlic and cloves and red pepper mingled with the aroma of the seafood, filling the house with that delicious scent she’d grown up with. Inside, the table had been set for five, including place mats and folded napkins. A sort of paper turkey served as a centerpiece, made from what looked like a toilet paper tube and cutouts of J.D.’s handprint. They’d gone all out.

  “Did you do that?” Pointing at the lopsided bird, Maggie smiled at the adorable child.

  His head bobbed. “I made it at school. My hands make the feathers.” He held up and wiggled his fingers.

  “It’s very good. I like turkey, and it makes me want to gobble, gobble.” She pretended to nibble his hand.

  Giggles filled the air as she nuzzled him close. “No. Miss Maggie. My fingers aren’t turkey, silly.”

  “What’s going on in here?” Josh entered, grinning and carrying a bowl of steaming shrimp, potatoes, and corn. “Sounds like a flock of seagulls fighting over a piece of bread.”

  “Miss Maggie tried to eat my fingers, Daddy.” Giggles still laced J.D.’s voice.

  “I better hurry up and feed her then.” He set the bowl right in front of her and winked. “She’s pretty scary when she’s hungry.”

  Why’d he have to act so familiar? As if nothing about her had changed in over a decade.

  “Y’all have a seat.” Once everyone complied, his gaze traveled around the table. “Looks like the gang’s all here. I’ll say the blessing.”

  “Can I say it, Daddy?” J.D.’s little hands were already folded.

  “Of course.” Pride and love shone in Josh’s gaze when he looked at his son. That much was obvious. He’d achieved his goals—a pilot and a good father.

  Though bowing her head, Maggie couldn’t help but turn J.D.’s way. His earnest expression along with the way his eyes were squeezed shut made her want to snuggle him in another embrace.

  “Thank you, God, for the strimp and botatoes and corn. Help it make us big and strong. God bless Daddy and Dahlia and Aunt Ruth. Please help Miss Cammie get well. Thank you for Miss Maggie. She makes really good boats. And hugs. In Jesus’ name, Amen.”

&nbs
p; “Amen,” the others echoed.

  Except Maggie. Her throat had constricted too tightly to speak, and her eyes stung. She reached for the empty glass in front of her and stood.

  Josh noticed and motioned for her to sit. “I forgot the ice and the tea. I’ll get it.”

  “I can.” The words squeezed out, and she hustled past him.

  But he followed her into the small kitchen. She stared at the ice bucket and pitcher.

  “You okay?” The slight touch of his hand on her shoulder only added to her churning emotions.

  She nodded, hoping he’d drop the subject. “A lot on my mind.”

  “You want to talk about it?”

  About as much as she wanted to launch a boat in a storm.

  “I’m good.”

  If only that were true.

  JOSH FORCED HIS HAND back to his side. If Maggie didn’t want to talk now, fine. But at some point, she needed to hash out some of the enormous issues going on in her family’s life. Her heart, too. They both did. A private moment with the woman without her stomping off would be nice.

  “I’m thirsty. The strimp’s spicy, Daddy.”

  But that moment would have to be later. He picked up the ice bucket, and Maggie grabbed the tea. “Coming, son.”

  He dropped a few cubes in J.D.’s glass while Maggie waited beside him to pour. Her watery brown eyes met his for a moment and flitted away.

  A private moment alone with her might be his undoing.

  J.D. guzzled the drink and started peeling more shrimp. The kid might not be able to say the word correctly, but he could peel as fast as any processor on the wharf. Josh finally sat down to his own plate and dug in. Enough cayenne pepper to clear his sinuses, but not enough to make him cry. Perfect.

  “These are delicious.” Ruth wiped her chin with her napkin. “I’ll have to fry y’all some oysters tomorrow after work, Joshua.”

  Dahlia paused her peeling and licked one finger. “Tomorrow’s Sunday.”

  “Perfect.” Her aunt held up one finger. “After worship service.”