Chapter 8
Winston and Trout excused themselves when the fire died down. It’d been an evening of ranching stories and stories about John’s childhood. The crackling flames licked the Montana air and sprinkled glowing ashes over the ground as the wood popped and burned.
“You ready to head back?” John asked as Winston and Trout headed toward Trout’s house. John’s gaze followed the two men as they walked in stride, conversing about running the horses at the crack of dawn.
“Yeah, my eyelids are getting kind of heavy.” As much as I wanted to stay up with John, my body wouldn’t allow me. The porch light glowed in the distance. “If you want to go with your dad, I can find my way back.” I pushed myself out of the Adirondack chair that anchored me. John’s proximity made my heart beat faster in the darkness, making the night air alive with prospect. I dropped my empty beer can into the cooler, and then peered to the heavens, found a faint star, and contemplated making a wish. Unsure of what to wish for, I hesitated. Tired of hesitating, I mulled over how much of life I’d missed in those moments of introspection.
John wrapped his arm around my shoulder. “What did you wish for?” He turned on the flashlight and we meandered toward the house, our boot heels clicking against the wooden walkway, echoing in the night.
“First of all, you’re not supposed to tell your wish or it doesn’t come true. Second of all, I couldn’t decide. I didn’t quite get that far.”
John stopped in his tracks and switched off his flashlight. “Close your eyes.”
I narrowed my gaze as I peered over to him. “Why?”
“Because that’s where you start. Just close your eyes.”
My legs wobbled as the darkness beneath my eyelids felt ominous compared to the Montana night sky. I took a deep breath, trying to steady myself, trying to loosen the threads that held me tight against the breast of the unknown like that of a fly upon a spider’s web.
“Think about the stars. Picture the sky above you,” John said.
It was hard not to think about his seductive voice. What guy would hold a woman beneath a blanket of stars and teach her how to make a wish?
“Focus, Maggie.”
I peeked at him from under my eyelashes.
He smiled. “I know it’s hard, but just focus. Don’t tell me what you see, but think about the first thing that pops into your mind. Picture it in the stars and make your wish.”
Pinpricks of light appeared behind my eyelids and I felt a grin pass over my lips. I settled into John’s body and found my balance. Taking a deep breath, I opened my eyes and made a wish.
John whispered into the darkness, “You can make a thousand wishes in a thousand nights. One of them is bound to come true.”
“I suppose you’re right about that.”
John faced me. “My mom used to say that to me when I was a boy.”
A chill ran down my spine as the words left his lips and I felt her presence like wispy strands of hair that stroke your face in the summer breeze. “Tell me her name again.”
“Ida May.” The sorrow behind his eyes cut deep. “Her name was Ida May.”
Touching his cheek, I couldn’t ignore the feeling that she drifted through the Montana sky like the scent of pine and leather that lulled me. “She’s with you. You know that, right?”
John wrapped his fingers around my hand, the one that caressed his cheek. “Montana may have whispered to my dad, but she was the one that drew me back home. This is the place I feel closest to her.”
“I know.” I thought about Mom, back home. I thought about how Chloe said I was lucky to have Glad, and she was right. I couldn’t imagine my life without her. I couldn’t imagine not having her by my side for major milestones and monumental heartbreaks. She’d been my beacon, but my heart ached for John’s world.
“She would have liked you, Maggie. I think you would’ve made each other laugh, mostly at me, but nonetheless, she would have liked you.”
“I would’ve liked to have known her.” I squeezed John’s hand.
“Yeah, I think my mom and your mom could have hatched some pretty good plots.”
My mouth curled toward the heavens. Another chill danced across the nape of my neck. “Yeah, I bet you’re right.”
John’s smile disappeared. His expression grew serious, and for the first time, I wasn’t afraid. He wrapped his arms around me, our gazes focused upon the other, our breathing in sync. His words were seductive and warm. “See, it doesn’t hurt so far, does it?”
I shook my head no, then John kissed my forehead. Feeling unsure of my footing, I rested my hands on his shoulders to steady myself. I stood on the balls of my feet, my boot heels not touching the wooden walkway as John held me close.
“It’s all about balance, Maggie.”
The corners of his lips rose. John cradled my face in his hands as his soft lips mingled with mine. Sweet “somethings” passed between us. His hands moved from my face to the nape of my neck, and then down to the small of my back. Our kiss lasted until my feet were planted back on the ground.
“We’d better go in. The morning will be here before you know it and kids show no mercy,” John said.
We strolled hand-in-hand back to the house.
I crept into the bedroom trying not to wake Chloe. She had one leg out of the covers and she held Voodoo close to her chest as she slept. She mumbled something in her sleep as I folded the covers back on my bed. The clock shone in the dark and I closed my eyes. My usual list of prayers scrolled through my head, asking Him to show me the way, and then I silently said “The Lord’s Prayer” as I pictured the Montana stars sparkling overhead.
Chloe mumbled something in her sleep again. Ignoring her, I rolled over. She was rearranging the covers, her slurred speech inaudible. She cleared her throat and said my name. I froze when she said my name again.
Reluctant to answer, I finally answered, “Yeah?”
“It’s okay if you like my dad.”
“Okay.” I closed my eyes deliberating unlikely scenarios.
“Maggie?” Chloe said.
“Yeah,” I answered, not knowing if she was sleep talking.
“If you want to kiss him, you can,” she said in her slow, sleepy speech.
Hoping she wouldn’t remember this conversation in the morning, I concentrated on moon shadows drifting across the ceiling. I fluffed my pillow before shutting my eyes.
“Maybe you can be my mom.”
My eyes popped open and there it was, hanging in the air between us. Be her mom, what? I was Maggie Abernathy, annoying neighbor lady, woman of indecision, and queen of treats when thwarted. My mouth ran dry and I wiped my sweaty palms on the sheet. Nowhere in my plan did I foresee being a mother to someone else’s child, let alone an eight-year-old. Bradley was my charge and he was happily in Boston getting over the trauma that Beckett and I caused throughout his childhood. I thought about sending him a text and explaining my offer of reimbursement should he need a therapist.
Voodoo fell from Chloe’s bed with a thud, but she held tight to his leash. This time, when John and I had held each other, Chloe hadn’t entered my mind. It was about him and me. Chloe’d just thrown me a curveball and I didn’t know which way to duck. “Crap,” I said under my breath.
“I heard that. You shouldn’t swear,” Chloe said. She exhaled, yanked Voodoo up from the floor by his purple cord, turned her back on me, and then curled up like a purring, barn cat.
I asked God to please not let her remember our sleepy conversation in the morning. Arranging my pillow, I assumed the fetal position and closed my eyes. John’s kiss was fresh on my lips. Chloe’s words even fresher. She was like a mute button on the remote control. She rendered me speechless.
Shutting my eyes, I was pretty sure sleep wouldn’t be my friend, so I pictured the stars in the sky like John told me to. I focused hard until I thought they were all present. John’s mom would have loved Chloe to pieces, just as I did, just as my mom did, but proba
bly more. It was easy for me to believe that the love in this family ran deeper than veins of Montana gold.
Chapter 9
Rubbing sleep from my eyes, I wondered what time it was. The sheets rumpled beneath me as I rolled over and noticed Chloe wasn’t in her bed. Craning my neck to read the clock on the nightstand, I saw it was past nine o’clock. Eleven o’clock Michigan time. Unexpectedly, I’d slept through the night … a feat I hadn’t accomplished in months. I stretched out, my legs preparing for sharp cramps in my calves, something new my aging body did on a regular basis now that I was in menopause thanks to the cancer medication. When the cramps didn’t come, I stretched my arms over my head then cupped my hands behind my head and stared at the ceiling.
There were no voices in the hallway. No Walter and Harry jibing at each other. No sweet Judy shushing them and no Chloe to jar me into reality. I touched my left temple. I couldn’t feel the scar any more from bumping heads with her last summer. Chloe hadn’t quoted Cesar, The Dog Whisperer, since my arrival, but then again, Bones wasn’t here. He was back home, probably eating table scraps and sleeping on the bed. Chloe didn’t have classmates picking on her either. Her content demeanor trumped rolling tumbleweeds that left her unsettled.
The only voices I heard were the voices in my memory from last night. I tried to sort out what really happened, but found myself in that state of mind that’s foggy like the early morning, and I wasn’t really sure what transpired. Rubbing my eyes, the veil lifted, leaving me capable of seeing the landscape hidden beneath mystical haze. I searched the corners of my mind, trying to remember my dreams, but nothing surfaced. I’d been here two nights and slept for two nights without having one of my Stephen King dreams, as I referred to them.
There was a knock at the door. “Come in,” I said, hoisting myself up so I could rest my back against the hefty wooden headboard.
Chloe peeked in. “Are you awake?”
“I guess so. Is Judy still asleep?” I asked as Chloe entered the room with a tray of food.
“No, everyone is up, except you. I thought you might need some food. Dad is cleaning up the kitchen.” Chloe stepped carefully toward me, a breakfast tray in hand. The juice teetered and sloshed over the edge of the glass. She stopped in her tracks and worry creased at the corners of her mouth. “Walter’s mom carried this up the stairs and I made it this far. Maybe you should take it from here.”
I kicked off the covers, got up, and took the morning’s offerings from her. “This is really nice, but you guys could have gotten me up.”
Chloe sat on the bed next to me. “You were sawing logs as my grandpa says.”
“I guess I was pretty tired.”
“That’s what you get for staying late with J.P.”
She sounded more like a girlfriend at a slumber party than an eight-year-old with missing teeth when she smiled. I inspected the plate.
“Don’t worry, Trout helped make the eggs, Dad made the bacon, and Walter’s mom helped with the toast.”
“Did you help?” I asked.
“Yeah, I stayed out of the way.” Chloe giggled. “Me, Harry, and Walter watched cartoons while the grown-ups cooked.”
Chloe gestured for me to eat. “Go ahead, you deserve a break.”
Balancing the tray on my legs, I scooted closer to the headboard. I nibbled at a slice of bacon as Chloe sat Indian style at the foot of my bed. My stomach rumbled. Suddenly, I was painfully aware that she was inspecting me. The muscles in my belly pinched as I bit into the toast.
“Try the huckleberry jam. It’s delish.” She pointed to the jar of preserves next to my plate.
Chloe smiled, her eyes wild with curiosity.
After smearing jam on my toast, I gobbled up the rest of my breakfast. “There. All done.” I put the tray in front of her and got out of bed. Her stare followed me as I moved through the room to gather my clothes for the day. My nerves prickled. I bent over to retrieve my socks next to the bed and when I glanced up, she was standing right beside me grinning. When I turned my head to see her better, my hair fell across my face. Chloe tucked it behind my ear. Her proximity unraveled the threads of uncertainty I’d neatly stored away deep inside myself, the way Mom stored her yarn in her knitting bag, smashed and pushed to the bottom.
“What?” I closed my eyes and swallowed when I heard my harsh tone.
“Sorry. I didn’t mean to be in your space.” A slight frown nipped at the corners of Chloe’s innocent pink lips.
“So, we might as well get this out in the open if we’re going to have any sort of day, today.”
Chloe’s brow furrowed as I spoke.
Prepared to talk about her dad and me, I sat at the edge of the bed searching for words.
“I’m not sure what you mean, but can I tell you my news first?” she asked.
“Sure. Go for it.”
“I just wanted to tell you that Cocoa had her kittens. That’s why the house is so quiet. Harry and Walter are in the barn now. I only brought up breakfast so you could get moving a little quicker and get out there to see them.”
I felt like a schmuck. “Oh.”
Chloe’s eyes twitched as she investigated the lines on my forehead. She leaned closer to scrutinize my face. “I know those lines. What are you worried about?” she asked. “You get them every time Bones goes near the garden or runs loose on the front yard.” Stray strands of blonde hair brushed against Chloe’s cheeks as she tilted her head.
“Nothing, just a little upset that I missed the morning festivities.” A shred of relief passed over me when I realized I wouldn’t have to explain anything to Chloe about her father and me. I hadn’t even fathomed that John and I might form an alliance, and a romantic one at that. A to-do list in Michigan flashed before me. Finish my career was at the top. Being an Abernathy meant I was expected to finish what I started. “Why don’t I get cleaned up and I’ll meet you in the barn? I promise I won’t be long.”
The seam of Chloe’s lips curled toward the ceiling. She touched the ends of my hair as her eyes searched my face. “I like how you look when you get up.”
My cheeks flushed with embarrassment, thinking I’d look much better after a hairbrush and a skosh of makeup to cover the imperfections.
“I can see your freckles. They look like mine.”
I touched Chloe’s nose with my pointer finger. “I suppose they do.”
She played dot-to-dot on my forehead. “I think we have more in common than you think, even if you’re older. Maybe we were sisters in another life.”
I narrowed my eyes as our gazes connected.
“I know what you’re thinking,” Chloe said.
“You do? I think your dad and I played this game last night.” I wasn’t so sure about playing again.
Chloe giggled. “My mom explained it to me once when I heard her talking with her friend on the phone. She thinks I don’t get grown-up talk, but a lot of times I think I do. It’s a gift,” she boasted as she hooked her thumbs in her back pockets.
“So what else do we have in common?” Somehow Chloe had stifled my angst and sucked me back in with her precocious charm.
“Well, we both love Glad. We both like jeans and Tshirts.” Chloe scratched her head. “We both know my mom is a little kooky, but she’s still my mom.” She paused and fingered the heart on her Tiffany necklace Brook had given her. Chloe’s eyes rolled to the ceiling in thought and she tapped her lips with her finger. “We both love Bones. Um—” She took a deep breath. “We both love my dad, s’mores, and a good book.”
Her words charmingly innocent, Chloe patted my shoulder. “I could go on and on, but I’d really like to show you those kittens. They looked kind of gross at first, but now that they’re cleaned up, they’re really cute. Their eyes are still closed.” She stopped and the lines in her brow deepened. “Do you think my eyes were closed when I was born?”
I shook my head. “No, I think your eyes were wide open ready to see the world.” And she was seeing the worl
d through her own eyes unaware of the precise interpretation. Part of me missed being eight-years-old. Maybe I’d never really experienced the age of eight. Being born a serious soul, ready for business had its consequences.
Chloe had thrown “it” out there in a laundry list of comparison and not batted an eye once or smirked like an audacious teenager. She was right. We had a lot in common.
Chloe stood up and opened the dresser drawer, and then pulled out one of my white Tshirts. “It matches mine. I’d kind of like to be like you today, if that’s okay.”
I took the tee from her with a smile. “That’s definitely okay. Let me get cleaned up and I’ll be down.”
“I hate to be a pest, but I don’t trust myself with that tray.” Chloe pointed to the dirty breakfast dishes. “Can you carry that down to the kitchen?” She scrunched the bridge of her nose and her shoulders.
“No worries. I’ll get it.”
“Thanks, you’re the best.” Chloe faced the door then stopped to stare at me over her right shoulder. “Make sure you wear your boots. Oh, and the girls are fly-fishing today.”
John rinsed morning plates smudged with sticky jam at the kitchen sink. I admired the hanging rack of pots and pans over the butcher block island.
“Thanks for the breakfast,” I said, setting the tray on the counter. “I can finish up in here if you want.”
“You’re a bit of a sleepyhead this morning.” The dishes clanked together as John set them on the counter. He turned off the water then leaned against the counter.
His gaze washed over me. “What?” I asked, crossing my arms in front of me.
“You look like you belong,” he said. “You’ve got the jeans, the boots, the hat, the belt buckle, and the attitude of a rancher.”
I smiled. “I’m not sure I’ve ever belonged anywhere.” Truth was I only knew Grosse Pointe, hadn’t really lived anywhere else, and I always went back to it, because that’s where my family was.
“I think we all feel that way from time to time,” John said, arranging the dishes in the dishwasher. “You know when you’re on the highway cruising along, then all of a sudden panic strikes because you’ve lost track of the mile markers and you’re certain you’ve lost your way. Life is a highway. Exits come and exits go, but you really don’t know you’re home until you reach your destination, which most likely will turn into just a pit stop because you’ve got other places to be.”
Maggie's Montana (Montana Bound Book 3) Page 6
