Ghosts of the Past

by Cate Dean

  Spencer caught Maggie around the waist when her legs refused to hold her.

  “I’ve got you, Mags. I’ve got you.”

  He led her over to the sofa, sitting with her.

  “I want Kit here, Spence. I need him here with me.”

  “I’ll ring Lilli, have her bring him. She will want an update.” He kissed her forehead, brushed wild hair off her cheek. “He’s going to be fine, Mags.”

  She watched him walk out of the waiting room, pulling out his mobile as he headed to the main doors.

  “He will be,” she whispered. “As long as he’s here with us, we’ll all be fine.”

  Twenty One

  Kit and Lilli had joined them at the hospital by the time Martin was ready for visitors.

  Maggie kissed Kit’s cheek before handing him to Lilli, then followed the nurse down a long corridor. She twisted her hands together, remembering the nightmare—and let out a breath when the nurse turned into a room halfway down.

  “The doctor will be in to see you soon, Mrs. Martin.”

  “Thank you.” Maggie waited until she left, then turned to the bed.

  Martin had a cast covering his leg from his calf to the top of his thigh, and his leg propped up. He still looked pale, with more than one IV in his left arm. She was debating whether or not to sit next to him when he opened his eyes.

  “Maggie.” He held out his hand.

  She moved forward and took it, leaning down to kiss him. His lips were warm, solid. He was real, and here, and alive. Blinking back the tears that stung her eyes, she kissed him again, then lowered herself to the chair.

  “I didn’t want to disturb you if you were sleeping.”

  “The painkillers. I drift in and out.” Without his glasses, he looked younger. Vulnerable. “Did Sara—Dr. Chamberlain—tell you my condition?”

  “That you won’t be running after Kit for a little while? She did.” Maggie closed both hands over his. “I’ll be with you, whatever you need.”

  He shook his head. “The rehab she is talking about will cost too—”

  “It doesn’t matter. The money from Anthea is ours, Martin. Whatever needs to be done to help you get better, we’re doing it.”

  “Maggie.” He tugged at her hand. She moved to the edge of the bed, reached out to brush hair off his cheek. He’d missed a few appointments with the local barber. “I may not—” He cut himself off, staring at their joined hands. “I may not recover from this.”

  “And your point?”

  He blinked at her, opened and closed his mouth a few times before he finally shook his head. “You are a constant surprise, my beautiful wife.”

  Heat spread across her cheeks at the compliment. “I like to keep you on your toes.”

  He freed his hand to cradle her flushed cheek. “Keep doing it.”

  Tears blurred her vision. “I will,” she whispered.

  “Come here, love.” Martin tugged at her hand, pulling her forward.

  “I don’t want to hurt you.”

  He tapped his cast. “I am quite numb at the moment.”

  Maggie stretched out next to him, carefully wrapped her arm around his waist, and closed her eyes when he cradled the back of her head.

  “I was so scared, Martin,” she whispered. “When Geoffrey ran out of the house, swearing he would have the box, every worst case flashed through my head.”

  “Of course.” He kissed her temple, his fingers untangling her curls. “That busy mind of yours must have conjured several.”

  “At least. Who is Mary?”

  His fingers stilled. “Why do you ask?”

  “Geoffrey shouted that name at Anthea. I think he was confusing her with someone else.”

  “My mother. It was her middle name, and the name she used professionally, to avoid embarrassing my father.”

  Maggie lifted her head, hearing the pain in Martin’s voice. “Oh, Martin. Why would he think she was your mother?”

  “Because he drove the car the night my mother died.” Martin avoided her eyes, staring at the ceiling. “He caused the accident, then left her there, the bloody damn coward.”

  “Oh, God. She died here?” She sat, caught his chin when he tried to turn his head away. Tears slid down the sides of his face, into his hair. Gently, she wiped at them, then lowered her forehead to his. “Martin—I’m so sorry.”

  He closed his eyes, let out a ragged sigh. “My father refused to talk about her, after. I have no idea how much he knew about her death, if anything. She went by her maiden name when she was on a dig, again because of my father. The local authorities may not have known who she really was.”

  “We’ll find her, I promise you.” She kissed him. “I promise.”

  “Thank you,” he whispered.

  Maggie shifted until Martin’s head rested on her shoulder. She held on, let him know he wasn’t alone as he mourned his mother, again.

  She would talk to Ian; if there wasn’t a statute of limitations, she wanted what Geoffrey had done to Martin’s mother tacked on to his current crimes. Even if there was, she wanted the coward to know that his dirty secret was not a secret anymore.

  A quiet throat clearing opened her eyes. Sara Chamberlain stood in the doorway, what looked a like a patient file in her hands.

  “Forgive the intrusion. I came to see how Martin was doing.”

  “Better,” he said, tightening his grip on Maggie when she tried to slip off the bed. “How am I doing long term?”

  “That is what I came to talk to you about. May I?” She waved to the empty chair.

  “Please.”

  Maggie shifted so she faced the doctor, though Martin refused to let go of her.

  Sara sat, studying the chart for a few minutes. Finally, she looked at Martin.

  “You are aware of the damage to your leg. We had to insert a pin, to keep the bone stable as it healed. Between the break and the muscle damage from the knife, your recovery will take some time. The wound in your side will delay any physio, until it has completely healed.”

  Maggie spoke before Martin had the chance to say something foolish—like he’d live with it. “Whatever he needs, Dr. Chamberlain. We have sufficient funds to pay for any length of rehab.”

  She smiled. “We can discuss the financial aspect of it later.” Her smile faded as she studied Martin. “First off, you will not be able to work for some time. Not at a dig site, at any rate. I am sorry about this, Martin, but the weather will be too much for your injuries.”

  “I understand. How long?”

  “An educated guess—eight to twelve months.”

  Maggie turned in time to see him flinch at the numbers. She took his hand. “Dr. Chamberlain, how much of that will be actual physical therapy?”

  “Please, call me Sara. We will start physio as soon as you have healed enough for it to help instead of harm. Once you’ve started, we can reassess.” She leaned forward and laid her hand on Martin’s arm. “Everyone is different, when it comes to healing. Your own path may be shorter, or longer.”

  After patting his arm, she let go and stood.

  “I will leave you to rest. Oh,” a smile tugged at her mouth, “you also have another visitor.”

  She strode to the doorway and leaned out, waving to whoever waited there. A second later, Spencer appeared, Kit bouncing in his arms.

  “There’s your mum, sport, just like I promised. Your dad’s awake as well.” He kept his voice light, but concern darkened his blue eyes. “Let’s go say hello.”

  Maggie slid off the bed and met him halfway, gathering Kit into her arms. “There’s my little man.” She nuzzled his neck, smiling when he giggled. Here was Martin’s best medicine. “Come and say hi to your dad.” Kit was already reaching for Martin, chattering at him. “Tell him all about your adventures, sweet boy.”

  She didn’t give Martin time to refuse, just settled Kit on his chest and stepped back. They looked at each other, Martin holding Kit with his right hand. When Kit braced both hands on Mar
tin’s chest and leaned down to kiss him, she covered her mouth, tears stinging her eyes.

  Spencer draped an arm across her shoulders. “He is quite the kid, Mags.”

  “He is.” She leaned against him, watched father and son get reacquainted. “It’s going to be a long road back for him, Spencer.”

  “The Professor will make it, Maggie.” He squeezed her shoulder. “He’s got you. And you all have me.”

  “Thank you,” she whispered.

  She wrapped her arms around his waist, grateful that he was part of her life. With his help, along with their friends, she knew that road was going to be easier.

  Twenty Two

  Martin spent more than two weeks in the hospital before Sara gave Maggie permission to take him on a road trip.

  She had spent that time with DI Chamberlain—Jamie—to find out what happened to Martin’s mother.

  They found her, and today, Maggie wanted to give Martin the chance to see her, to finally say goodbye.

  Sara had arranged for one of the wheelchair accessible vans from the nearby rehab centre, along with a driver. Maggie could handle the Rover, but she wasn’t going to get behind the wheel of an unfamiliar car.

  Now, she waited while two male nurses helped settle Martin in the wheelchair she had bought for him. He would need one for a while, and she wanted him to be comfortable.

  “Ready, Professor.” One of the nurses wheeled him over to Maggie. “I can take him as far as the entrance, Mrs. Martin.”

  “Maggie, please. I’ll do that. Thank you both.” They waved and walked out. She leaned down and kissed Martin’s cheek. “Ready?”

  “As I will ever be.” He closed his hand over Maggie’s. “I do want to see her, love, but standing in front of her grave makes her death—final.”

  Maggie understood; she’d felt the same way when she visited Aunt Irene’s grave for the first time. “We can wait, Martin.”

  “No need. I have waited long enough.”

  She pushed him out of the room, down the corridor she had walked so many times she lost count, and out to the van waiting for them. Several of the nurses waved, and Maggie knew they were thrilled that Martin was up.

  His injuries had been challenging. One of the nurses told her that their usual patients were routine surgeries, locals coming in with injuries, or accident victims.

  The driver and his assistant took over once they reached the van, locking Martin’s wheelchair onto the lift at the side. Maggie stood back, hands shoved into her jacket pockets to keep from helping. After Martin was in and secured, the driver walked over to her.

  “I’m Campbell, Mrs. Martin. If you have any questions or concerns, please give a shout. You will be up front with me.”

  “It’s Maggie, and thank you, for taking the time to do this for us.”

  “No worries.” He smiled. “The Professor and I will be seeing our share of each other over the next few months.”

  He helped her climb into the tall van before he headed around to the driver’s seat. The trip out to the small church took them through rolling fields, dotted with sheep and grazing cows. Maggie kept glancing back at Martin, but he stared out the window, his hands gripping the arms of the wheelchair.

  Campbell pulled up next to the church, then hopped out to help Martin. “Ready for your first test drive, Professor?” Martin nodded, holding on as the lift lowered him to the paved road. “One latch, and you are free to roam about. I’ll be here if you need anything.”

  “Thank you, Campbell.”

  “My pleasure. Big fan, Professor. I look forward to seeing you back on the screen again.”

  “As do I.” He looked at Maggie as she approached; behind the smile, she saw the grief in his eyes. “Shall we?”

  She moved behind him and pushed his chair toward the open gate of the small graveyard. It had been well tended over the years, and even had a narrow, paved path that wound through. From the map she had found online, she knew that his mother’s grave was halfway down, just off the path, under a tree.

  They made their way through the graveyard, Maggie waiting for Martin to start any conversation. She would let him take the lead today; if he wanted to talk, he would let her know. The spot came into view, and she turned him so he could see the small, neat headstone.

  “This is her?” he whispered.

  “Yes. Did you want me to leave you alone?”

  “For a few minutes, if you don’t mind.”

  She squeezed his hand. “I’ll be just down the path.”

  “Thank you, love.” Grief scraped across his low voice.

  Maggie walked far enough away to give him some privacy, but still close enough to hear if he called her. She read the inscriptions on the headstones as she wandered, her heart aching at the final words to loved ones carved in stone.

  “Maggie.” Martin’s voice brought her head up.

  She ran over to him, not liking the way he sounded, and crouched next to his wheelchair. Tears streaked his face, the spare pair of glasses she had brought to him in the hospital sitting in his lap.

  “Oh, Martin.” She stood, and wrapped her arms around him from behind. “I’m so sorry.”

  “Thank you for finding her,” he whispered, wiping at his cheeks. “I would have been fine, if not for the inscription.”

  She leaned forward, found the lines under her name and the dates. It was the only other thing carved on the headstone. Tears threatened when she read it.

  “To my son, Martin, I give the world. My one regret is that I am not at your side to discover it with you.” She kissed his temple, tightened her grip. “She loved you.”

  “More than I deserved, at times.” He cleared his throat, closed his hand over hers. “I want to find out who knew to carve that into her headstone.”

  “We will, I promise.”

  “I am ready to go.”

  “Are you sure? We haven’t been here that long.”

  “I know where she is. That means more to me than I can ever express.” He reached up, brushed her cheek. “I love you, Maggie.”

  “I love you back, Martin.” She maneuvered until she could kiss him. He was smiling by the time she managed. “We need a better system.”

  “Unfortunately, we will have more than enough time to devise one.” He didn’t sound discouraged, like he had the last few days. “Thank you for putting up with me.”

  “You’ve been a delight compared to how I would have acted in your place.”

  His smile widened, and some of her constant worry eased. “So diplomatic.” He kissed her again, gentle, heartfelt. “Let’s go home, Maggie.”

  She leaned back. “Martin—we have to go back to the hospital.”

  “I managed to pry a temporary leave out of Sara. You didn’t notice our bags in the back of the van?” She shook her head, too stunned to think of anything to say. “Campbell is taking us back to Holmestead, staying there to help until I head to the rehabilitation centre.”

  “Why didn’t you tell me?”

  “I wanted it to be a surprise. Spencer will be waiting at the house with Kit.”

  “I—you—” she couldn’t think of a way to express how much he meant to her, so she kissed him.

  A loud throat clearing had him easing back. “Sorry to disturb, Professor, Maggie.”

  “Is it time, Campbell?”

  “If we want to see Holmestead before dark, yes.” He strode forward. “Shall I take him?”

  “Okay.” She moved to Martin’s right side and reached for his hand. “I’m ready to go home.”

  ***

  Spencer wasn’t the only one waiting for them at the house.

  Maggie’s jaw dropped when she saw that every window was lit up, and what looked like the entire population of Holmestead standing in the front yard, waving madly as they approached.

  She looked over her shoulder; Martin had the same surprise on his face. He obviously hadn’t planned this part of it.

  When they pulled into the driveway, Spencer hea
ded straight for Maggie, Kit in his arms. “Someone wants to say hello to his mum.”

  She opened the door and slid out, reaching for Kit. “Hey, little man.” As soon as she had him in her arms, the weight on her heart lifted. “I missed you so much.” She gave him a sloppy kiss, smiling when he giggled. “Your dad missed you just as much. Ready to see him?”

  Campbell had been busy while she reunited with Kit. The lift started up, bringing Martin’s wheelchair to the ground. The crowd behind them grew silent, telling Maggie that Spencer hadn’t shared details with the residents.

  She moved over to Martin, not surprised when Kit clung to her. Martin spoke before she prompted him.

  “Hello, Kit. I’ve missed you.”

  After studying the wheelchair, Kit tried to launch himself at Martin. Laughing, she carefully settled him on Martin’s good leg. He patted the cast on Martin’s leg, then peered up at him. Martin spread one hand across Kit’s back to keep him in place.

  “Not quite the dad who left, am I?” He smiled when Kit chattered at him, patting the cast, his cheek, and the wheelchair. “I expect you’ll have plenty of time to climb every inch of this contraption.”

  Kit grinned, as if he understood what Martin was saying. Maggie was afraid he did.

  She moved to Spencer as they got reacquainted and hugged him. “Thank you.”

  He wrapped his arms around her and returned the hug. “I figured you would want to answer questions all at once. I told certain people everything,” he nodded over at Lilliana and Enid. “The rest know more now than they did, after seeing Martin. How is he?”

  “Better.” She lowered her voice. “We went to see his mother’s grave before we came home.”

  He let out a low whistle. “How traumatic was that?”

  “Bittersweet, and painful for him. I’m guessing he’ll be going to visit her regularly, now that he knows.”

  “How are you, Mags?”

  “Tired, but better. He seems to be adjusting to the wheelchair.” Martin was wheeling around with Kit on his lap, stopping to talk to people. “Or at least resigned to it, for now.”