Liam’s arms swallowed her in a protective embrace. “Rachel, what’s wrong? You had Maggie come over?” She could tell his head was trying to process what she had said, and he was more than a little confused.
“Liam, I’m pregnant.”
Finally the words fell out of her dry mouth, and her throat hurt as she tried to swallow the uncontrollable sobs. She watched as shock replaced the confusion on Liam’s face.
“I mean, how? We’ve been careful,” he asked, running his hands through his overgrown hair.
“Not the first time, apparently. I wasn’t on the pill then, and you didn’t use anything.”
“Wow, so are you okay? I mean…” Liam grabbed Rachel and held her tight, his tenderness and concern for her outweighing anything he was feeling.
Rachel shook her head. “Yes, I’m fine, just pregnant.” She laughed uncomfortably.
He stared at her for a long while. It felt as though time was suspended, hanging over them as she waited for him to say something.
“Rachel, I want you to know that I plan to marry you,” he announced finally.
She tried to catch her breath. Marry?
“Liam, I don’t need you to make an honest woman out of me.”
“Are you serious? Rachel, you’re having my baby,” Liam protested loudly.
She rolled her eyes. “I realize that, but we don’t live in the Stone Age, and we don’t have to get married just because I’m pregnant. I want you to ask me to marry you someday when we both are ready. I want it to be because of our love, not because of what is growing inside of me.”
“No, Rachel, I have a certain responsibility to you and to our child. I want to marry you because I do love you.”
Rachel absorbed what he was saying, but her brain only heard the part about his responsibility. She refused to get married based off of whatever obligation he felt.
“Can’t we just wait and see how things play out with us first? I mean, Liam, we haven’t even been a couple for more than two months. I take marriage very seriously, and don’t want to rush into something like that.”
“I take it seriously too.”
“Then let’s not worry about it right now, okay?” she pleaded as she reached for him.
“I’m sorry, I disagree. If we are going to have a child together, then we need to be together, simple as that. We need to be a family for that baby you are carrying. I want to be your husband, I want to take care of you.” Liam scooped Rachel toward his lap. “I can’t help but feel we were taken in this direction for a reason. I didn’t expect to fall in love with you when I first laid eyes on you, God knows that, but here I am, hopelessly in love with you and our baby.” Liam put his enormous hand over Rachel’s flat belly.
“Liam, I don’t want to rush into anything, maybe eventually we can get married,” Rachel said, remembering her thoughts yesterday during her argument with Chelsea, when she was so quick to want to run away with him. Now that reality had set in, she wasn’t just imagining some fairy-tale, and now Liam wanted to get married, and she wasn’t quite ready for that. “It isn’t something we even have to do. No one is telling us we have to get married.”
“I don’t want the town thinking I just knocked you up, I want them to know that you’re my wife, Rachel.”
“Liam, I don’t want to fight with you about this. You can’t make me marry you.” Rachel leaped off the couch and out of his arms.
“I’m not forcing you, but it’s the right thing to do.”
“Liam, just go home please,” Rachel begged. She didn’t need him guiding them with his moral compass right now.
“Rachel—” Liam tried to speak, but she raised her hand and stopped him.
“Please just go.”
He left, and Rachel sank back down on the couch. She hadn’t intended for things to get so out of hand. Part of her knew that he was going to suggest they get married, of course he would, Liam was as traditional as they came. He was a loyal man who stood by his promises and beliefs. But Rachel lived more of modern life and wasn’t so sure she wanted to be captured and slung over some caveman’s shoulder. She had already been asked before to become a domesticated housewife for her ex, and that hadn’t ended so well. Whatever fantasy Rachel had before was long forgotten as she realized she wasn’t cut out to be little Miss Betty Crocker, let alone a mother. What had she gotten herself into? Maybe Chelsea was right.
Chapter Ten
Michael
The bar was quiet. He could hear the clinking of heavy glasses in the background, but he was able to drown that out. Michael worked on his third drink, the amber colored liquid burned his throat as it slid down. He just hoped it would make him forget.
His life had been turned completely upside down, all of his work thrown away and dismissed. His brain couldn’t erase the misery of the day’s events. He had arrived at the firm, anxious, knowing that today was the day he would learn if he had made partner at one of the most elite firms in Seattle. He had been busting his back for them for several years now, he was at the prime age for the position he was drooling over. At thirty-five years old, he had goals and plans, all of which had fallen through.
More than a month ago his wife, Maggie, took their daughter, Melanie, and left for her old hometown, leaving him in their empty downtown condo. He hardly even slept there anymore, he would go there to shower and grab fresh clothes, but otherwise it was just a shell that held the contents of his life, their life. If learning that his wife was finally pregnant with their second child and leaving him wasn’t bad enough, his father had died as well. He had to give the old man some credit; his father had left everything in perfect order, and Michael, as his parents’ old child, inherited everything.
Since Michael was alone in the world, both parents dead, his wife and child, soon to be children, gone, he threw himself into work; it was all he had left. When that came crashing down, Michael found himself in an upscale bar that was home to many of the neighborhood attorneys. The expensive place could wet the palate of a lawyer who just won his first case, or lost it. The little bar was tucked in amongst the large skyscraping firms, with its overpriced drinks and pretentious customers, and it cradled Michael as he mourned everything that had gone wrong in his life.
Earlier that day, he was called into the firm’s enormous conference room, the partners seated around the sleek mahogany table, with their steel faces, cold and unforgiving, staring at him. There were a couple in the group that eyed him with unspoken apology and sympathy, and he knew right then there was no making partner that day. Sudden anger, which had blended with his grief, erupted. He didn’t bow down and accept their dismissal of his hard work and hours that he sacrificed, times he sacrificed with Maggie and Melanie. He hated that Maggie was right, but it didn’t matter. He went to his office, gathering all of the possessions he had from practically living there for the last eight years, and then he had left.
He tapped his drink and signaled the bartender he needed another. He needed to forget that everything was crumbling around him. The world he had put his blood, sweat, and even sometimes tears, into was shattered.
***
Michael’s back was stiff, he had been sleeping on the couch for the last couple of nights. The house was eerily quiet and felt empty. He didn’t know what to do with himself now that he had quit the firm, there was no place to escape the loneliness he felt at home. For the past several days Michael would wander into Melanie’s bedroom, her bed neatly made as if it was waiting for her to come home. Her toys were still scattered about the floor, he was tempted to clean them up, but seeing them almost looked like she had just played with them and would return to finish. Michael felt lost inside his own home, his own life. Nothing made sense to him anymore.
He tried to orient himself, as the room was fairly dark and his head spun as he eyed the partially empty bottle of whiskey. He rubbed his face, and he could feel the growth of stubble transforming into a beard. He hadn’t shaved in days. Michael thought about calling Maggie
, he would kill to hear her voice. He missed her more than he ever thought possible. Things were so screwed up between them, he realized that it was his fault. She never pushed him, never asked for anything, she only wanted him. He was the one that forced his tastes and way of living on her. He could feel his heart, bruised and broken, when he thought about how far away his wife was. He needed her. He wanted his family back. Michael rose off the couch and stared out into the traffic infused abyss, there was nothing left for him in Seattle. Through the fog that had settled in his brain, he found a lighthouse which illuminated the only possibility. Michael needed to go to Birch Valley. He needed to go to Maggie.
***
The span of highway that separated Michael from Birch Valley was quiet and nearly vacant at this time of night. Sober and showered, Michael had thrown together a duffel bag with some essentials and fled Seattle. He felt his body and mind work together on auto pilot, his thoughts free to roam as he cruised his black, sleek car through mountain passes and valleys. Michael worked out various scenarios, wondering if he could convince Maggie to come back home. Doubt plagued him, she had been more than firm that there was no going back, but at the same time he knew she loved him. He hoped that maybe he could convince her to return to their life together, especially since he had left the firm, things would be greatly different. His brain tried to wrestle with how he was going to handle that; it wasn’t that he needed the money, especially after everything that was left to him by his father. He contemplated opening his own practice. He loved law, he liked the fight and the challenges of working his mind around the cases and jumping through hidden loopholes. As a defense attorney in corporate law, he loved the strategy, the virtual chess game of the courtroom. It got his blood flowing; he loved swimming with all those sharks.
His brain reminded him of where he was headed as he saw the thick tree line of Birch Valley come into sight. He eyed the clock on the dash; it was a little after midnight. There was one place he knew he would be accepted that late at night with no notice: Liam’s. Maybe he could get some inside info on Maggie from him as well, see how things were going with her. She always told Liam everything, and why not, he was laid back and not the least bit judgmental. Michael was closer to Liam than the rest of the O’Brien siblings. Patrick and Daniel were great guys, but they didn’t share the same connection that Michael felt with Liam. So Michael veered his car in Liam’s direction. He just hoped Liam didn’t mind him showing up. Who knew what ill feelings Liam might harbor? Only one way to find out. Michael pushed the gas down and raced into the dark, shadowy night.
***
Michael’s tires crunched over the gravel driveway as he steered his car slowly up Liam’s driveway. He could spot the cabin and Liam’s old pick-up truck. As he parked and got out of his car, he couldn’t help but feel like he was surrounded in complete wilderness. There were no traffic lights, no street lights, no lights cast from neighboring houses, it was solid darkness. Michael wondered how someone could live so removed from everything, but a part of him was thankful to be so far away from the sounds and illumination of Seattle.
A low, golden light emitted off of a single light fixture guided him as he carefully walked up to the door. Knocking gently, he waited. He could hear movement and the sound of footsteps nearing the entrance.
As Liam opened the door, the sudden look of surprise on his face was priceless, “Hey, buddy,” Michael said, standing there with his hands burrowed deep into his pockets.
“Michael, how’s it going, man?” Liam stepped aside and invited Michael inside.
Michael instantly could feel the warmth generated from the fireplace that was burning a charred log. Liam added another piece of wood, stoking the fire, bringing it back to life.
“Want a drink or something? I’m going to get a refill.” Liam waved his small glass that had some remains of what looked like whiskey or spiced rum.
Michael figured he had been sober long enough. “What are you drinking?”
“Some good Irish whiskey, you interested?”
“Absolutely,” Michael said as he followed Liam into the kitchen.
Liam grabbed a heavy, small glass out of one of the hickory cupboards. He reached into his freezer and grabbed a little ice. “You want to mix this with anything?”
“Straight is fine, it’s been that kind of week. Hell, it’s been miserable for the last two months.”
“I can imagine, and Michael, don’t take this the wrong way, but you look like crap. What’s with the beard?” Liam asked as he handed the freshly made drink to Michael.
Michael accepted the glass, and with his other hand felt the thick stubble. He had meant to shave when he showered earlier, but he didn’t have the patience, and honestly didn’t have the motivation or really cared. Usually he took excellent care with his appearance; he had to in his line of work. The prettier you were, the more likely the jury would trust you.
“Yeah, like I said, I’ve been having a rough time lately.”
Liam ushered Michael back into the living room. He took the recliner, and Michael found a spot on the couch facing the crackling blaze. They sipped their beverages in silence, deep in their own troubled thoughts, each trying to drown the problems and find a solution at the bottom of their glasses.
“How’s Maggie been?” Michael finally asked, shattering the quiet they were both so enveloped in.
Liam swallowed another sip. “Well, that depends, she is doing okay, I guess. She is working at the shop, as you know. Melanie is doing great at school, I see her all the time.”
Michael nodded. “She ever talk about me?”
“I know she misses you and wishes things were different between you guys.”
“Well, I’m here, and I’m hoping we can work on some things.”
“That’s good,” Liam said, taking another swig of his drink, swirling the amber liquid, ice cubes clinking softly against each other.
“So, hey, why are you up and drinking?” Michael asked, realizing that Liam did seem a little different than his easy-going self. He was a little wound up, but appeared to be trying to fix that with the rich whiskey. He sure wasn’t drunk yet, but who knew how much Liam had drunk already? The man could hold his drink as good as any Irishman.
“I don’t even know where to begin,” Liam replied, his eyes staring vacantly into the fire.
***
Michael woke up the next morning, his body sore, and his head pounding. One thing was for sure, Liam’s couch was much more comfortable than his. He slowly tried to move into a sitting position, but the whiskey sloshed in his belly and his brain felt as parched as his mouth. They had stayed up and polished off that fantastic Irish whiskey as they shared their troubles. Michael was shocked to learn that Rachel was pregnant, even more surprised that Rachel didn’t want to get married. Granted, they had only been dating for a couple of months, but Liam saw things the way Michael had when he got Maggie pregnant. The thought of a woman carrying his child and not being his wife bothered him. He knew he wanted Maggie when he first set eyes on her. She was young, much younger than him, almost a ten year difference in age. The firm had hired her as one of the new receptionists, and Michael had been instantly attracted to her. After charming her, it took only a short time before he was able to lure her to his bedroom. But it was Maggie who had the hold on him, with her magical eyes and gorgeous smile, and the tenderness and sweetness that seem to radiate from her. God, he missed her. His brain squeezed hard against his skull; he needed Aspirin and water. He heard heavy footsteps behind him as Liam shuffled into the kitchen.
“Ugh, my head hurts. You need any Aspirin, man?” Liam offered.
“Yeah, please.”
Liam quietly grabbed two bottles of water out of his stainless steel fridge and carried a bottle of pain relief medicine as he rounded the couch and plopped down. Passing Michael the bottle after shaking out a couple of pills for himself, he groaned. “I haven’t had a hangover like this in years.”
“Thanks,” said
Michael as he accepted the Aspirin pills and downed them quickly. “I hear you.”
“So what’s the game plan for today?” Liam asked, his eyes closed as he rubbed his temples.
“Well, once we feel human, or as soon as I do, I need to go and see Maggie.”
“I think I know the best hangover cure.”
Michael looked at Liam. “What would that be?”
“Breakfast at Herrick’s. Works every time.”
Michael’s stomach was a little unsure, but at the same time it growled and gurgled, completely empty of food. He hadn’t really been eating since he quit the firm, instead filling his hunger with liquid. It clouded the reality he found himself stuck in. But he was ready to face the day. Well, maybe after breakfast.
***
Maggie
Maggie washed the last remaining dishes from Sunday breakfast while the rest of the family had went to church. She stayed behind, as she needed the quiet time. The home was always so full of noise and distraction, it was nice to hear the thoughts in her head clearly. She was grateful to be living at her mother’s, but the itching desire to find her own place was growing. Maggie scrubbed an oatmeal-encrusted pot that she had let soak for the last twenty minutes. Her mind wandered as she used a scouring pad to work the hardened oats off the rim of the pot. She felt the bubbly sensation of movement inside of her, which reminded Maggie she was far from alone. A sudden sadness washed over her as the image of Michael cropped up in her mind. She missed him terribly. They hadn’t spoken at all the last week, and it had her a little worried. This was not the norm, granted, as she usually just passed the phone off to Melanie because it was too hard to hear his voice, but the fact he hadn’t called bothered her.
Maggies Marriage (Cloverleaf #2) Page 13
