Maggie (Tales Behind the Veils)

by Violet Howe

  “Why didn’t you tell me?” he whispered.

  My tears overflowed, and I struggled to wipe them before they fell on the sleeping baby in my arms.

  “Can I hold him?” he asked, his own tears slowly rolling down his face.

  I hesitated, unsure if I should let him.

  My mind was filled with anger. At him, at the situation, and everything I’d gone through. But at the same time, the baby was his child.

  Our child. A child we’d created together in what I had thought was love.

  When I cut Gerry off the day my parents dropped the bombshell on me, it was like someone had died. One day he was there, and the next he was gone. As I’d experienced the pregnancy alone with all the complications of my career, my finances, and my living situation, there were so many nights that I’d wished for the way I thought things were. For his love. For his touch.

  I dreamed of him. Dreamed of him coming back to tell me it was all a big mistake. In my dreams, he’d be ecstatic about the pregnancy, and he’d take me away from the crowded little house and help me make a proper nursery for our baby. Sometimes when I dreamed, we were married, and there was a young boy there, playing in a fenced-in yard. My heart would swell with happiness and contentment, and then I’d wake and remember that it had all been a lie.

  So, when he stood by my hospital bed and tearfully asked to hold his son, I was torn between wanting to punish him and wanting to share with him what only the two of us could feel for that child.

  He sat on the edge of my bed and when I placed my baby in his arms, he wept.

  “This is my son, Willow. My firstborn son. I’ve missed it. I missed him kicking inside you. I missed seeing your belly filled with him. I missed it all. I’ve made such a huge mess of everything, and now it’s all too late.”

  His words woke the baby, and as he stirred in his father’s arms, Gerry smiled through his tears.

  “Oh God, he’s beautiful. He’s the most incredible thing I’ve ever seen,” he whispered as he gazed into the baby’s eyes. He turned and looked at me, reaching to take my hand, but I curled it into a fist so he simply placed his hand over mine.

  “I’m going to make this up to you, Willow. I swear on my life. I will fix this. I will make it up to you. And to him. This baby deserves to have a family. He deserves to have a mother and a father who love him. Who love each other. And I do love you, Willow. Oh, God, how I love you. I’m sorry. I know I didn’t handle things well. I thought I could…fix it. I never meant to hurt you. I fell in love with you and I didn’t know how to tell you the truth. I didn’t know how to get out of it.”

  My tears poured in a steady stream as he said everything I’d wanted to hear for months, and yet, in the back of my mind, I knew none of it mattered. I knew I couldn’t go back to the way I’d felt before.

  The baby started to cry, and my body reacted immediately. I reached for him, and Gerry placed him back in my arms, his hand lingering on my elbow as he passed our child to me.

  “Does he have a name?” he asked as he watched me nurse.

  I shook my head, unwilling to share with him the ideas I’d come up with around the table with Sandy and Alberto.

  “My brother’s name was Cable,” he said, wiping at his tears. “He was my hero. He died in Vietnam, and I always swore if I ever had a son, I’d name him after my brother. I know I don’t have a right to ask anything of you, but this is my son. Would you consider giving him my brother’s name?”

  “I don’t know, Gerry,” I said, completely overwhelmed by the whole situation.

  He paused, staring at the baby. “Will he have my last name at least?”

  “I don’t know that either. It’s complicated.”

  He nodded. “I know. That’s my fault. I swear to you I’m going to figure out how to fix this. Somehow. Some way. I’m going to make this right. I’m going to be the best damned father that you’ve ever seen. You just wait. I’ll make it all up to you both.”

  A nurse came in to check my condition, and she asked Gerry to step out of the room for my examination.

  When she left, my parents had returned, and I have no idea where Gerry went. I didn’t tell my mom and dad he’d been there.

  It messed with my head. My heart was conflicted. I knew I could never forgive Gerry. I knew I could never allow him back into my life, but the fact remained that he was the baby’s father. Whether we were together or not—whether he was married or not—the baby was his son.

  I didn’t know what that would look like as it played out in reality, but I never dreamed as I signed the birth certificate that Gerry would end up playing no further role in his child’s life.

  Despite my father’s insistence that it was insanity, I named him Cable Tucker Shaw. Cable to honor Gerry’s request for his brother’s memory. Tucker because it was Gerry’s last name, and whether any of us liked it or not, the baby was his. But Shaw because I had carried him alone, and I had delivered him alone. His last name would be mine.

  38 CLEAN-UP CREW

  I had flung the phone across the counter when I hung up on Gerry, balling my fists at my sides. The rage inside me was too much to restrain. I screamed at the top of my lungs and swiped the smoothie ingredients off the counter onto the floor.

  The almond milk carton exploded in a liquid eruption on impact, followed almost immediately by the splatter of the strawberries, carrots, and kale. The destructive release of energy gave me such satisfaction that I grabbed my mug tree and sent it crashing to the floor as well. The shattering sound of the ceramic splintering on the tile was exhilarating, but the feeling of triumph dissipated when I stared at my favorite mugs in jagged pieces amid the milky puddle of produce.

  The dam inside me broke, and my tears flowed as I knelt to pick up the pieces.

  The chime of the doorbell reminded me of what my night should have been, and my tears turned to anger. I clutched too tightly to the sharp edge in my hand, feeling the sting as my skin ripped and the nerve endings were exposed to air.

  I stood and tossed the broken piece in the trash can, wrapping a paper towel around my hand as the blood oozed and dripped.

  The doorbell rang again, and I had no choice but to answer it. I caught a glimpse of my appearance in the foyer mirror and stopped short. Black streams of mascara striped my face, and the front of my pretty new dress was wet with splatters of the wreckage as well as blueberry stains pressed into the skirt from where I’d knelt on the floor.

  I took the paper towel from my hand and scrubbed at my cheeks, smearing the mascara and turning my face an ashy gray.

  Screw it, I thought. There was no way I was going to be presentable, and I couldn’t leave Dax standing outside ringing the doorbell all night.

  His face held a huge smile when I swung the door open, but as the word hello faded from his lips, the smile fell, and his brow creased with worry.

  “Maggie, what happened? Are you okay?”

  He rushed to put his arms around me, and I took a step back, holding up my hands for space.

  “What happened? You’re bleeding,” he said as he reached to take my hand. I pulled it away and tucked the black-smeared paper towel against the cut.

  “It’s nothing. It’s superficial. Look, I, uh, I’m not really up for dancing and dinner, okay? I’m sorry, but I can’t do this tonight.”

  “That’s okay.” His voice was hesitant as he continued to take in my appearance. “We’ll stay here. That’s fine. Tell me what’s wrong.”

  I shook my head and started closing the door, eager to get rid of him before I lost my tenuous grip on my emotions.

  “I’m fine, really. It’s family stuff. I want…I have to be alone.”

  He put his hand on the door. “Maggie, please. Tell me what happened. I can’t leave you like this. Knowing you’re not okay.”

  “Please, Dax. I don’t want you to see me like this. I’m sorry I ruined our night and that you drove over here for nothing. Maybe if you go to the lesson, she’ll let you follow along
so you don’t get behind. Hey, maybe you can dance with Betty.” I attempted a smile, but it faltered, and the tears seeped past my defenses.

  “Maggie—”

  “Dax, please go. Please. I want you to go. I need to be by myself right now. I’ll call you later.”

  I closed the door and leaned against it, sliding down to the floor and hugging my knees to my chest as the tears poured down my face.

  There was nothing I wanted more than to fall into his arms. To pour my heart out and tell him everything. To feel like I had nothing to hide and nothing to be ashamed of.

  But I didn’t want to see disapproval in his eyes. I didn’t want to see pity, either. I didn’t want him to look at me with any less adoration or appreciation than he ever had.

  No. I had to deal with my pain alone. It was my bad choices that had gotten me there, and it wasn’t fair to Dax to include him in my sorrow.

  The doorbell rang, and the door vibrated against my back with the force of him pounding on it.

  “Maggie, open up. Open the door.”

  He rang the doorbell, and I scooted away from the door before he knocked again.

  “C’mon, Maggie. Let me in. I’m not leaving, and your neighbors are going to stare if I stand out here yelling. Open up.”

  I hesitated, but when he rang the bell a third time, I stood and pulled the door open. He stepped inside before I could say a word.

  “Hear me out,” he said, his hands raised. “Let me say my piece and if you still want me to go, I’ll respect your wishes.”

  I stood staring at him until I realized he was waiting for my acknowledgment, and I nodded for him to continue.

  “I tried to do what you asked of me. I went and got in the truck, and I turned the key in the ignition, but I couldn’t leave without saying this. I didn’t drive all this way for dinner and dancing. I couldn’t care less where we go and what we do. I want to spend time with you. And if that’s a good time, and we’re laughing, then great. But if that’s a shitty time, and life’s falling down around our ears, then that’s okay, too. I still want to be with you.”

  He took a step toward me and put his hands on my waist, his moves slow and tentative as he watched and waited for my reaction.

  “Look, Maggie, I learned the hard way. You don’t get a second chance to be there when someone needs you. It goes against everything in me to walk away when you’re in pain. Now, if you tell me that’s what you need, and you say you truly don’t want me here, then I’ll go. But I want to stay. I want to be here for you. I’ll listen if you need to talk, and I’ll hold you if you need to be held. And if you need to not talk and not be touched, well, then I can do that, too. Maybe. Maybe I can do that. I don’t know.”

  He flashed me a half-grin, and my heart melted.

  “I don’t want you to go,” I whispered.

  His arms closed around me, and Dax pulled me to his chest, his fingers in my hair.

  “Then don’t send me away,” he said. His voice rumbled against my ear as I pressed tight against him, wrapping my arms around his waist and holding on like my life depended on it.

  It had been so long since I’d felt safe in someone’s arms, and I clung to the feeling, even as my fears whispered that I could lose him if he knew the truth.

  “I don’t want you to think differently of me, Dax. I don’t want you to see me as someone I’m not.”

  “What do you mean?” he asked, pulling back just enough to look down at me. “What are you talking about? I’m not going to see you differently just because something’s wrong. We all have problems in our life.”

  I shook my head and released my grip on him, stepping back.

  “I’ve done things, Dax. I made decisions in my past that I’m not proud of. Far-reaching decisions that I can’t get away from.”

  He shrugged, his expression puzzled. “Okay, what is it? You were in prison? You killed someone? You were a spy? What?”

  “No, nothing like that.”

  “Okay, well if you didn’t kill anyone, it can’t be that bad. You’re dripping blood, by the way.”

  I looked down at the bloodied, mascara-smudged paper towel in my hand and walked toward the kitchen to rinse the wound, stopping when I saw the mess I’d forgotten.

  “What the hell happened here?” he asked, his eyes wide as he took in the splattered and shattered chaos and then looked to me with a renewed concern.

  “I was about to make a smoothie when all hell broke loose.” I stepped carefully over the wreckage and went to the sink to run my hand under the faucet.

  “How bad is it? Is it deep?” He leaned onto the counter and stared over my shoulder.

  “Not bad. It’s only a little cut but lots of blood. I just need to get a band-aid.”

  Dax was cleaning up the mess I’d made when I returned from the bathroom with my hand bandaged.

  “You don’t have to do that! I’ll get it.”

  I rushed forward, but he held up his hand.

  “I got it,” he said. “Do you have a dustpan?”

  Not even bothering to argue, I retrieved the dustpan from the laundry room and handed it to him.

  He pulled the trash can closer so he could dump the ruined produce and smashed coffee cups.

  “Any more paper towels?” he asked, throwing away the cardboard center of the empty roll.

  I took the cleaner out from under the sink and grabbed a fresh roll of paper towels from the pantry before kneeling beside him on the floor. Once he’d removed all the ceramic pieces, Dax mopped up the last of the almond milk, and then I sprayed the floor and wiped it down. We crawled in opposite directions picking up blueberries and searching beneath the cabinets for any strays.

  “Thank you,” I said when the floor was done. I couldn’t meet his eyes. It was bad enough that I had lost control of my emotions, and to have the results of that temper tantrum on display for Dax was embarrassing. But then to have him clean up after me without question or condemnation created an odd feeling, a mixture of gratitude and shame.

  “No problem. You’ve got stuff on your dress. You want to change?”

  I nodded, and he followed me down the hall to my room, leaning against the door frame and watching me with wary eyes. His expression was pensive, and I knew he had to be wondering what had transpired and what past deeds I’d referenced. He didn’t push it, though.

  When I came back out of my closet wearing a matching pair of velour pants and a short-sleeved hoodie, Dax was sitting in one of the plush chairs in the alcove of my bedroom that overlooked the pool. His gaze was intense as he stared out over the water, as I looked at him, my breath caught in my throat.

  I don’t know when I first realized that I’d fallen in love with Dax, and I still wasn’t comfortable acknowledging it, even to myself.

  In the three months since I’d met him, my life had taken on a renewed sense of wonder. While I was certainly content with my life before, I knew a happiness with him that I’d never had. I didn’t want anything to come between us or to change that.

  When he turned and looked at me, a faint smile played across his lips, though his eyes still looked apprehensive.

  I wanted things to go back to normal. I wanted our casual, laidback vibe to return, but the dark cloud of the past filled the space between us, dampening the mood and charging the air with questions and uncertainty.

  I went to the chair opposite of his and sat with my legs tucked underneath me.

  “I’m sorry. About earlier. About all that,” I said with a wave of my hand, trying to brush off the drama and minimize its effects.

  Dax shook his head slightly. “Nothing to be sorry about. Are you all right?”

  I lifted my hand and held out my bandaged palm. “I don’t know how long this will stick on the inside of my hand, but it should be fine once the bleeding stops. It really wasn’t that deep.”

  “I wasn’t talking about your hand.”

  A shudder rippled my spine, and I wrapped my arms around myself, tucking my l
egs in tighter as I looked out toward the pool. Memories of my kids filled my head. We’d had many good times in that pool. My children had gone through their teenage years and early adulthood in the house, and its walls had witnessed so much love, yet so much turmoil. Had I done the wrong thing in keeping them from Gerry? Would it ever be possible for me to know for sure?

  I exhaled and shut my eyes, laying back against the chair. We sat in silence for a few minutes, and finally, when I could wait no longer, I opened them again, ready to tell the awful, nasty truth and let the cards fall where they would.

  39 PORTRAIT OF A GIRL

  “You’ve asked me before about my past, and I haven’t really told you much. That’s because I made some choices that I’m not necessarily proud of, and those choices have caused a lot of pain. For me, my parents, my friends. My kids, most of all.”

  Dax nodded, leaning forward to put his elbows on his knees, clasping his hands together as he listened.

  “It wasn’t that I was trying to hide anything, but I didn’t want you to look at me any differently. I didn’t want you to see me as someone I’m not, based on decisions I made thirty years ago.”

  He tilted his head to one side, his brows coming together as he considered my words. “Obviously, I don’t know what you’re about to tell me, but I can’t think of anything you could say that would change how I look at you today. The Maggie I know now wouldn’t be here without the obstacles you’ve encountered, so I’d be hard-pressed to condemn whatever choices you’ve made.”

  I sat up in the chair, tugging a pillow from behind my back and hugging it to my chest as I brought one leg out from under me.

  “When I met Gerry, the kids’ dad, I had just been injured. Like, literally, the night I met him. Unfortunately, that meant that we had a lot of time to spend together. An amount of free time I’d never had before. I’d never dated anyone. I’d never been caught up in the partying scene of Miami. Suddenly, I was in this whole new world, and I didn’t really take the time to heed all the warning flags.”