by Donna Fasano
Maggie hesitated, and for a moment, Reece was certain she'd decline. But finally she nodded her head.
"Okay," she said. "Thanks for inviting me."
Jeff fairly beamed when he turned back to Reece.
"Go in and wash up," Reece told his son. "I need a few minutes to talk with Maggie."
The boy scampered off into the house.
Reece saw Maggie's eyes reflect an emotion something akin to panic, but she stifled it quickly. He walked toward her.
"I should get cleaned up," she said, her tone stiff and self-conscious, and she turned to the house.
"Maggie, wait. Can we talk?"
* * *
She lifted her eyes to his. This was not something she wanted to do. She didn't mind going to dinner with Reece; Jeff would be present to ease the rigid wall that she and Reece had built.
"Come on," he said quietly. "We're adults. Can't we just put everything aside and talk like adults?"
Maggie heaved a sigh. "You're right," she finally told him. "Okay, let's talk."
Without another word, Reece began to walk, and she followed. He unfastened the top button of his shirt. Inexorably, they were drawn to the water's edge.
"Sit down, Maggie," he offered, indicating the wooden bench that she and Jeff had used while fishing several times this week.
The feelings that slowly rolled inside her couldn't be described as nervousness or anxiety exactly; they were just plain awkward. And from the way Reece's eyes kept darting to her face and then away again, she could tell he was experiencing the same discomfort.
"So, ah, how are things going with Jeff?" he asked.
"Just fine." And she had to smile. "I've got him thinking. And I'm happy about that."
Maggie went into detail about how she'd told Jeff about several women from history who were creative, intelligent, and known for their contributions to society or their bravery during difficult circumstances. She named the women, told their stories. And then she expressed to Reece her exasperation when Jeff continued to try to credit each woman's success to the man she had chosen to marry.
"It was Molly Pitcher who actually impressed him." She grinned remembering the light that had shone in Jeff's eyes. "Finally." Then her smile widened. "Jeff became so wrapped up in Molly's adventures that he didn't even think to ask about her husband."
His mouth was cocked up on one side. "She was commissioned a sergeant in the army, huh?"
"Yep," Maggie said. Then, imitating Jeff, she added, "Way back in the olden days."
Reece chuckled.
"Of course," she went on, "she only received half pay. But she received it for the rest of her life."
Huge, puffy cumulus clouds piled high in the late-afternoon sky. The sun felt warm on her skin; however, the heat from Reece's gaze burned hotter than a sunbeam. Like a silent beacon that refused to be ignored, his eyes called to her.
She lifted her gaze to his, absently tucking her bottom lip between her teeth. How could it be, she wondered, that she could feel claustrophobic here in the wide-open outdoors? The broad expanse of Chesapeake Bay looming in front of them did nothing to quell the sensation of closeness she felt sitting here next to this man. The summery breeze seemed to die into nothingness, giving the atmosphere a profound sense of confinement and restriction. She had to work hard to suppress the strong impetus to launch herself from the bench and hurry away from him.
She studied him, his dark eyes glittering with a mysterious emotion she simply couldn't put a name to.
Finally, Reece sighed. "God, Maggie, you have been so great. I simply can't find the words to express how huge my gratitude is."
And then he did the most extraordinary thing—he leaned over and kissed her.
His mouth was warm and moist, his lips closed as he bestowed on her the most tender kiss imaginable. The kiss lasted the barest of moments, but it was long enough for her to feel shaken to the bones.
She blinked and gingerly reached up to touch her lips. "Why on earth did you do that?" The question slipped off her tongue like a satin nightgown sliding off silky shoulders.
"I'm... I'm not sure." His corded throat worked with a swallow. "I, ah, I wanted to… thank you. It was impulsive, I know. I'm sorry."
Her brows drew together. He was apologizing. This man unsettled her. He rattled her. He bedeviled her.
He was tender. He was… nice. He was like no other man she'd ever known. She found him so damned bewildering.
"Who am I kidding?" The words burst from him in a fit of frustration. "I kissed you because... well, because I wanted to try and smooth things over between us. The air gets so darned tight when we're together, I can't even breathe."
The honesty in his voice was so plain, so simple, it startled her, and she felt the frustration emanating off him like invisible waves.
Now it was her turn to swallow. The frown on her forehead deepened as she found the courage to admit, "I know."
A graceful crane flew low over the water, its snowy wings long and delicate.
"Maggie," he said after a moment of quiet, "do you think we could talk for once, without the crap, without this wall of awkwardness we keep hiding behind? I want to know what's going on inside you."
Keeping her eyes on the horizon, she tamped down the panic that threatened her like a huge, ugly sea monster rising from the depths. Reece had done so much for her. Offered her sanctuary when she'd had nowhere else to go. A strong shoulder when she'd needed it. Maggie had to admit that she'd needed it more than once, even though the independent woman in her didn't want to even entertain the idea. And he'd given her more than these things.... She pushed the sensuous memories aside, unwilling to face them at this moment.
And how had she repaid his generosity? By babysitting his son? How could she call spending time with Jeff any kind of payback when she had enjoyed being with him so much? Maybe not at first, but in the end the job had become an exciting adventure. So she really didn't feel she'd done nearly enough. Yet Reece had never once made her feel that she'd shortchanged him in any way. He'd never once said one word that made her feel beholden to him.
Peter had never missed a single opportunity to remind her of her obligations. That's why she'd finally left the man.
She shoved the dark thoughts aside.
Reece Newton confounded her; kept her off-kilter. He caused overwhelming emotions and urges to well up within her—emotions she didn't want to experience. And now he was asking her to reveal everything that she was feeling.
Give-and-take. The idea marched through her mind like a chant. He'd given. He'd given a lot. Now it was her turn to do the same. And there was no better place to begin, she silently surmised, than the honest-to-God truth.
She swiveled on the bench so that she could look him square in the face. "I can't figure you out."
A spontaneous ghost of a smile gently curved one corner of his mouth. Maggie found it quite captivating.
"I take it you feel that's a bad thing," he said.
The teasing glint in his eyes made her insides go all giddy, but she ignored it as best she could, and rather than react, she tipped one shoulder up. "I haven't been able to figure that one out, either. Isn't it, though? A bad thing, I mean? When you're around someone who always makes you feel like your world is topsy-turvy?"
His tiny smile dissolved. "I don't know, Maggie. I can't answer that." He cocked his head a fraction. "But I can tell you that—" his brows rose "—I've been struggling with the same questions."
She searched his gaze for only a second or two. He looked to be in as much of a quandary as she. Maggie looked out at the vast expanse of water. Pondering his turmoil wasn't something she could do at the moment—not when she was so preoccupied with her own.
"So—" Reece's silky voice called her attention "—what is it about me that has you so baffled?"
In spite of herself, she smiled at the hint of flirtation in his tone.
"I," she said, then hesitated a moment, wanting to get the words right. "
I guess I really haven't been able to figure out just why you've helped me so much."
He frowned. "But I already told you. I did it because I wanted to."
"I know that's what you said," she told him. "And it was nice of you to say that. But everybody knows people don't reach out to others unless there's something in it for them."
Especially men, she wanted to add but didn't.
Several things happened at that moment. First, she got the distinct impression that what she'd just espoused was profound for some reason and that her words deserved a bit of reflection. However, the strange expression that crossed Reece's face snagged every ounce of her attention. She only had a brief moment to wonder what he was thinking before her brain was flooded with an overwhelming urge to explain herself further.
"Reece," she began, "I'm not an innocent where relationships are concerned. You see, I know what takes place between a man and a woman." She looked away for only a second, then she rushed on. "What I mean is, I'm trying to tell you that, like you, I have some... personal experience relationship-wise."
He didn't react to her statement at all… well, besides intense interest that sparked in his dark eyes.
"I lived with a man for nearly a year," she told him. Maggie glanced downward at her hands. She sighed, aligning her thumbnails as she steeled herself to deal with her disturbing memories. "I learned a lot from Peter. I learned what a man expects from a woman. That love comes with a price. Everything is give-and-take."
She studied the knuckles of her fingers, and without realizing it, her verb tenses changed. "Every action had its price. Even the smallest favor turned into a loan that was certain to be called in."
Suddenly, Maggie felt swamped with terrible yet familiar rancor she'd thought she'd put to rest long ago, and they all centered around the humiliation and resentment of doing things for someone, not because you wanted to, but because that person felt he deserved it.
As she spoke, her voice took on a faraway quality that even she heard, but could do nothing about, so caught up was she in the past. "If Peter prepared my breakfast, I was expected to pack his lunch. He filled my car with gas, so I had to do his laundry for a week. If he took me out to dinner—" The thought was cut off with a sharp, humorless laugh. "Well, let's just say that dessert was always served in the bedroom. God," she whispered, "sex turned into something nightmarish for me."
Abruptly, she started, remembering that she was not alone but telling this story to Reece.
"I'm terribly sorry," she said, her face hot with disconcertion when she cast him a sidelong look. "I shouldn't be telling you this. It's just that I wanted you to know that I do have some experience with what normally happens between a man and a woman." She stopped long enough to moisten her lips. "I didn't mind the give-and-take. It's just that I didn't like the expectation that seemed to always hover over my head. It became very smothering. So smothering that I felt it would be best to live on my own and not worry about meeting anyone's demands."
She gave a quavery sigh. "What I'm trying to explain, is that you have given and given to me. You've provided me with a roof over my head. You saw to it that my car is being fixed. You've given me a shoulder to cry on, an ear to bend. Not to mention the wonderful emotions and… physical sensations you..." She couldn't bring herself to say another word about what had happened between them in his laundry room. She'd never look at a clothes dryer the same again.
Maggie reached up and tugged at the short lock of hair behind her ear. "And all I gave in return was—" she lifted her eyes to his "—a week's worth of babysitting your son."
Reece shook his head as he murmured her name under his breath several times. The intimacy of his rich, whispery voice made her self-consciously look off toward the watery horizon.
"You know darned well," he said, "that what you've been doing this week is much more than mere babysitting. However, I did not—and I repeat, did not—offer you a place to stay so that you could spend the week watching Jeff. I did not call the garage about your car, or offer you a... a shoulder to cry on, so that you, in turn, would talk to my son about his attitude regarding women."
He reached out and turned her to face him. "Look at me, Maggie. When I told you before that I offered to help you because I want to, I meant it. I wanted to help you. I was not looking for anything, anything in return."
His eyes were so intense, so open and honest, yet the confusion bombarding Maggie's brain made her feel suddenly agitated and nervous.
Men don't reach out to others unless there's something in it for themselves. The words rained down on her head like an unexpected summer squall. Those words formed an idea she'd embraced ever since her awful experience with Peter. However, since living in Reece's home, Maggie had found herself perplexed by the fact that Reece didn't seem to fit the mold she made for men.
Could it be that she was living and thinking under the same kind of generalizations as Reece and his son? Only her generalizations were against men rather than women?
The questions were startling, and they threw her thoughts into a panic. But she'd had good reason behind the mottoes she lived by. She'd suffered long and hard at the hands of Peter. And she'd seen so many other women suffer, too.
"There's something between you and me, Maggie...."
The mysteriously magnetic quality of his voice only served to increase the chaos that had taken over her thoughts. A part of her wanted desperately to focus on his face, on what he had to say, yet another part of her wanted to get up from this bench and run like hell.
"You can't deny it," he went on. "And neither can I. Maggie, I was hoping that we could—that you and I—"
Full-fledged hysteria forced her to stop him with an upraised hand. She closed her eyes, fighting for some control.
"I can't talk about this any more, Reece," she told him, her tone corroded with anxiety and raw fear—fear of him, fear of the feelings he conjured in her, fear that the confusion that had invaded her brain would tempt her to do something she might regret.
She needed time. Time to think.
"Maggie, I am not Peter."
She knew that. She did. However, memories of other men she'd dealt with hurtled at her like asteroids through freezing black space: Buster, who might not have run around with other women, but who had hit Sally just enough to "knock some sense into her"; the man who had betrayed his wife so often that she was just a shell of the person she'd once been; the man who had spent his and his wife's life savings to satisfy his hidden cocaine habit; the man who had become so enraged that his wife had hired Maggie that he'd beat her into a coma.
"Maggie... tell me what's on your mind."
Reece said her name ever so softly, and when she looked at him, she noticed that her upraised hand was shaking.
"I need time, Reece. I just need some time."
She rose from the bench and raced toward the house.
* * *
"Hey, Dad..."
The serious tone of Jeff's voice made Reece glance up from the workbench where the two of them had sorted all the boards from the make-it-yourself birdhouse kit. A serious discussion was the last thing he'd expected on this beautiful, sunny Saturday afternoon. His son was holding a section of the birdhouse roof, but didn't make a move to place it on the bench.
"Is Maggie okay?"
Reece leveled his gaze on Jeff. "Sure, son. She's okay. Why do you ask?"
The boy shrugged. "I don't know. She didn't come for pizza with us last night after she said she would, and... well..."
"I told you last night," Reece said, keeping his tone light so as not to worry Jeff, "that she got a headache and decided not to go."
"Yeah, I know, but she's been awful quiet today. Do you think it wasn't just a headache? Is she sick or somethin'?"
Reece shook his head. "She's fine. She's just got a lot on her mind." That certainly wasn't a lie. After all the things she'd revealed to him yesterday, he knew she had a lot to think about. He'd seen it in her green gaze. But if she
refused to talk, there really wasn't much he could do. Except feel worried and frustrated.
"I been thinkin'..." Jeff's voice faltered. He picked up the pack of small nails. "Do you think," he began again, "that it would be okay if I... if I like Maggie?"
The unexpected question started Reece. But Jeff stared at him, the question shadowing those big, innocent eyes of his.
Feeling a sudden fit of nerves, Reece placed the hammer on the workbench, looked at Jeff, then reached out and picked up the hammer. Finally, he absently ran his fingers through his hair, placed the hammer back on the bench and gazed at his son.
It was at times like these he wished parenting were a little more like a football game. He longed to call a timeout, rush to the sidelines and get some guidance and advice from the coach.
Reece would have loved to have the opportunity to talk about Jeff's question with Derrick and Jason. They would know what he should tell his son.
Yeah, a small voice intoned in his head, they would know what to tell him, all right. Derrick and Jason would advise you to tell Jeff that women were the best thing ever invented. Better even than... than the flippin' automatic transmission.
Derrick had Anna. And Jason had Katie. Both of his buddies were ecstatically happy with the women in their lives, so of course they would recommend a more positive answer to Jeff's question.
"Well, Jeffrey," he slowly and hesitantly began, "I think it's okay that you like Maggie." He shrugged one shoulder a fraction. "Maggie's a pretty likable person."
Jeff's expression held a huge measure of expectation, as though he wanted his dad to expound on the issue. However, Reece simply didn't know what else to say.
Finally, the boy said, "I know we don't need women messin' up our lives."
Reece's brows shot up.
"But Maggie is just..." Jeff scratched an itch on his cheek. "She's just like one of us guys."
The first part of his son's statement, the part about women messing up their lives, really needed to be addressed. Reece knew that Jeff truly believed this, and he believed it because Reece had said it all too often. Heck, Reece himself had believed it—
He went still. Now, why had that thought revealed itself in the past tense? Whatever the reason, he didn't have time to dwell on it, because the second part of Jeff's statement intrigued him too much.
