9 Ways to Fall in Love

by Caroline Clemmons

  Inside the house, Maggie dropped the load she carried on the floor just inside the door. She heard Dinah in her room at the back talking on the phone. Grabbing a Dr Pepper from the fridge, she sat down at the kitchen island to cool off from the one hundred degrees-plus outside temperature.

  Dinah sailed into the kitchen carrying her ever-present tall glass of ice water and sat on the other bar stool. "I assume the munchkin is safely on his way to Florida?"

  "Yes, I think he was airborne before he boarded the plane," Maggie answered shaking her head in amusement. "Mother and Ed are going to have their hands full."

  "That's no lie. I thought he was supposed to settle down as he got older. When does that happen?" Dinah got up and rummaged through the refrigerator.

  "Shows what you know about little boys." Maggie chided. "His accelerator's stuck on go and he's leaving us in his dust. What are you looking for?"

  "Something to eat. What are we having for supper?"

  Maggie took a swig from the frosty can, belching from the carbonation before she spoke. "Preferably something cool that we don't have to fix."

  "What the heck was that?" Dinah asked trying but failing miserably to take on an air of superiority.

  "Not bad manners just good beer."

  "More room on the outside?" Dinah quipped. Taking a slug from Maggie's can, she then let out a belch of her own.

  Maggie sat up straight, looked down her nose and shot back, "Better to burp and bear the shame than never to burp and bear the pain."

  They giggled like schoolgirls until Maggie leaned to one side grabbing her ribs. "Oh, crap, that felt good. We haven't laughed like that in a long time."

  "I know, right?" Dinah wiped at the tears running down her cheeks. "It's a drag having to be a parent all the time."

  Maggie knew her friend hadn't meant her statement to hurt, but it stung none the less. Moving in with Dinah ten months ago had been a godsend to her and Andy, but having a roommate with a child would impact anyone's life. Especially a beautiful, socially active, single woman. She knew Dinah would never complain out loud about their arrangement and for that Maggie was grateful, but the time was nearing for the fledglings to leave the nest. This coming weekend, Maggie would move back into the house she'd shared with Wyatt to officially start her so-called new life.

  Suddenly, Maggie realized Dinah was speaking to her from somewhere outside. She blinked and asked, "Where are you?"

  "On the back porch, and I said, dinner's ready."

  When she stepped outside the back door, Dinah sat at the patio table with a half gallon of ice cream, a roll of paper towels and two spoons. Maggie sat, took one of the spoons and started to eat the already melting creamy concoction.

  They ate in silence, both enjoying the sinfully delicious treat. Dinah looked up, speaking with her usual directness, "You're going to miss me, you know."

  "I know."

  "You don't have to leave if you don't want to go."

  "It's time."

  "I know."

  At that moment, Maggie realized, as sad as she'd be to leave the safety and security of living with someone else, it was time for her to go home. Time for her to take her life in a new direction. Wherever that might be.

  * * *

  Junebug turned the Chevrolet Suburban onto the long tree-lined drive that led to the Benning home at the top of the hill. Dusk had settled in and, with all the lights on, the pristine white façade of the mansion beckoned him with a warm glow. As the car slowed, Graeme pulled the handle to open the door but held on to it until Junebug brought the car to a full stop..

  "Slow down, boy," Junebug growled. "You don't go jumping out of a moving automobile. That's one of the first things I taught you."

  Again, Graeme zapped back to his teenage years so fast he nearly had whiplash. "Yes, sir. Guess I'm a little excited to be home."

  "Place has been here in some form or fashion for a hundred and forty years, ain't likely to change in the next five minutes."

  "No, sir." He opened the door and grabbed his bags from the back. Grinning, he stuck his head in the passenger side window. "Thanks for the ride. I'll see you in the morning."

  "Yep, I can't wait to see what else you've forgotten."

  Graeme chuckled as the older man drove the car around to the garage behind the main house and made his way to the front door. Feisty old coot. He liked knowing some things stayed the same. He reached for the door knob planning to go right in, since Bridey had never locked a door in the years he'd known her, but the knob slipped from his grasp.

  "Graeme!" Bridey squealed throwing her arms around his waist. "Oh, I can't believe it's been so long. You feel so good."

  He dropped his bags to return her hug, thinking her smaller than he remembered.

  Keeping one arm at his waist, she drew him into the entryway and called out, "Andrew come on down, Graeme's home." To Graeme, she said, "Leave your bags right here, I'll have Hampton take them up to your room in a little while. I just want time to look at you." They walked toward the family room and Bridey called out again, "Andrew?"

  Graeme sat down on the large leather couch, while Bridey perched on the edge beside him. She looked ready to spring at any moment. "Thanks for having Junebug come after me at the airport. I know it took time away from his ranch duties."

  "Well, we don't have him do as much as he used to, besides, he insisted. The ranch hands let him think he runs things out of respect. He's going to be eighty his next birthday, you know. So far he's refused to use the room I fixed for him upstairs. Still sleeps in the bunkhouse. I guess he can't quite give up the bossing yet."

  "Speaking of bossing, how's Andrew doing since he temporarily stepped away from the helm at Southern Star?"

  "It's part of the reason I asked you to come." Bridey looked over her shoulder at the sound of Andrew coming down the stairs. "I'm worried about him. He hasn't been the same since Wyatt died and his recovery since the heart attack is taking longer than he'd like. He's become depressed these last few months with his semi-retirement, and more than a little angry."

  "I know it's difficult dealing with the death of your only son – for both of you," he commiserated. "I've had trouble accepting the NTSB and coroners reports myself. I'm sure it weighs heavily on Andrew that anyone working for the airlines could be involved in drugs or try to destroy Southern Star. Let alone his own son." He didn't tell her about Wyatt's message left on the recorder or about the contents of the file Joe gave him. Instead, he waited for Bridey to pick up her end of their conversation, knowing she had a specific direction she wanted to take.

  With another quick glance toward the stairs, she continued in a whisper, "I'd like you to go to the office and check things out. See what's going on down there."

  "What makes you think something's going on? What's Andrew said?"

  "He doesn't talk about Southern Star to me. He puts on a good front, but I can tell he's worried."

  "Who's in charge until Andrew gets back?"

  "Nelson is acting CEO. He's promoted Trevor Riordan to a position in the office. You haven't met him, but he and Wyatt were good friends and often flew together."

  "Widmore's a good guy," Graeme offered in reassurance. "I remember, he and Andrew were in the same unit in Viet Nam. Since they started Southern Star together, he should be able to keep it running smoothly. I'll nose around if it'll make you feel better, see if anything stands out."

  "Thank you, dear, I feel better already." She squeezed his hand and gave her head a negligible shake to let him know he shouldn't mention their conversation as Andrew came into the room.

  "Well, hell's bells, boy, high time you showed up. Now maybe this old woman'll stay off my ass." Andrew's hearty laugh popped the air like a sonic boom, giving Graeme the immediate impression that nothing had changed.

  He wondered, though, as he stood to shake hands, what the older man might be hiding under his gruff exterior. Andrew had been a decent provider to all who'd grown up under his roof, but in truth,
he remained a mystery to most. He hadn't been around all that much with the airline taking most of his attention while the ranch absorbed what was left.

  "It's good to be back, sir," Graeme said pointedly to Andrew, but looking at Bridey. "I've missed having my best girl keep up with me, it'll be like old times."

  "That's right," the older man grumbled. "Take her side. You boys always did."

  Graeme listened to Andrew grouse. He had a good idea the impossible situation caused his foster father's attitude. Ambling over to the bar, Andrew held up a decanter and asked, "Join me?"

  "Drew, put that down." Bridey calmly took the liquor from his hand and replaced the glass stopper. "No bourbon and you know it."

  "See?" He motioned toward his wife of nearly fifty years. "She acts like she's doing it for your own good, then sucks the life right out of you. She won't even let me smoke a cigar." He picked up a fresh cigar, sniffed along the length of rolled tobacco leaves and placed it, unlit, between his lips. "Will you, at least, bring us some of that swill you call coffee?"

  "I will." Bridey smiled and patted Andrew on the shoulder. "Graeme, will you join us?"

  "Yes, thanks." As soon as she left the room, he turned to face Andrew. "You should be nicer, you know. God only knows why, but she's trying to keep you around here longer."

  Andrew smiled. "Don't ever let 'em get the upper hand, son."

  "So basically, you're just being a shit?"

  "At this point in our marriage, she'd be disappointed if I wasn't."

  Graeme chuckled, pretty sure that statement wouldn't hold water. "Don't expect Dr. Phil to call you for relationship advice."

  Andrew sat on the couch opposite Graeme, leaned back into the corner and rolled the cigar back and forth between his thumb and fingers. Finally, he looked up and said, "I'm glad you were able to adjust your schedule."

  "There were no immediate conflicts."

  "I might as well get to the point." Andrew leaned forward bracing his elbows on his thighs. "I know Bridey talked to you about troubles at the office."

  "Yes, sir."

  "Well, I am worried. Nelly's making changes in the day-to-day operations and with personnel without consulting me, and I'm not feeling this way out of sour grapes. Some of our oldest employees are being let go.

  "I'm not sure how to approach it, maybe request an audit, maybe not. Maybe we could find out what's going on without an in-depth investigation."

  "I promise to do what I can, sir."

  "And you'll tell me first so as not to worry Bridey?"

  "I will."

  As Bridey came into the room carrying the tray with coffee and cups, Graeme's mind leapt ahead in planning how to proceed in this so called non-investigation. For a family and business with stellar reputations, red flags and questions were multiplying.

  ***

  Graeme awoke with a start, not from any specific noise, he realized, but because it was so quiet. He'd grown used to traffic noise outside his apartment in D.C. and had forgotten how still life could be here at the ranch. Sitting up, he swung his feet to the side of the bed and reached for his watch. Nine o'clock. He hadn't slept this late since the morning after high school graduation.

  Downstairs he found his breakfast on a warming tray with a note laying next to it on the counter. Bridey wrote that she and Andrew had gone to Dallas for the day, Vidalia and Hampton had gone grocery shopping and that he should relax and enjoy himself.

  Relax and enjoy. Had anyone asked him on the spot, to quickly name the last time he'd actually heard those two words used in the same sentence, he would've been at a loss for an answer. Many were the times he'd been satisfied, but relaxed? Bridey's simple statement placed a world of opportunity at his fingertips.

  Out of all the choices before him, Maggie topped the list. He had no idea where she and her son were living since she'd moved away from her house last year, but he had a pretty good idea where to go to find out. All ranches had their rumor mills and usually one person acted as the director of gossip. On Ben McTiernan, that person was none other than Junebug, the foreman.

  Dressed in casual jeans, tee shirt and worn boots, Graeme's first stop of the day was to find Junebug. He planned to help him work in the barn, haul hay, or mend the corral gate that almost always needed fixing. Whatever he could do to get the foreman talking.

  He found Junebug in the main barn repairing a stall. "Morning, need some help?"

  "Afternoon, sleepin' beauty." The man stopped the claw hammer mid-swing and looked over his shoulder beneath shaggy gray eyebrows. "Hope I didn't wake you with my hammerin'."

  "No, sir, slept like a baby." Graeme resisted the urge to salute as he and his brothers had done as boys.

  An hour later, the stall door repaired and readied for its occupant to return in the evening, Graeme met Junebug by the old water pump. Leaning over, he placed his head under the ample flow, then turned his head for a long drink. When he stood, the older man had a bemused look on his face. Graeme waited for him to say his peace.

  "Well, I guess now you're ready for a nap."

  Graeme laughed. "No, sir, I thought I'd walk around the ranch for a while, sort of get a feel for the place again."

  "Boy, livin' up north has made you soft in the head. It's a hundred and five in the shade down here." Junebug pumped water into his hat and placed it on his head, the water flooding his face and neck down the front of his shirt. "Why don't you saddle up ol' Buddy and head up to the old homestead. I been meanin' to check on it for a while, but I never have time, what with makin' sure the hands do their jobs."

  Graeme loved the original ranch house built by Dermot and Katie McTiernan. They'd come to Texas in 1875 to live out their dream. Each generation after that had adapted the house to fit that particular family. The last major remodel was the one Graeme liked the best. Donal and Ada McTiernan, Bridey's grandparents, updated the house to the Craftsman style, popular around 1920.

  As he swung the saddle up onto Buddy's back, Graeme's whole body hummed with renewed energy. He needed to be here and he was glad Bridey had called. This is exactly where he wanted to be.

  Chapter 3

  Maggie held her breath and turned the key in the lock. The intense heat of the brass did little to warm her chilled fingers as she closed her hand around the door knob. She slowly exhaled and rested her forehead against the solid oak door.

  "You can do this," she muttered under her breath. "Just turn clockwise, push, and enter."

  This morning started out relatively normal for a Saturday. She and Dinah left at the same time but went their separate ways with Dinah promising to catch up with her here after lunch. First, she'd stopped by the hospital to speak with the administrator about getting her job back after being placed on suspension during an investigation into missing morphine. Then, she'd gone by the bank to withdraw the last of her savings. Oh, and last, move back into the home she'd shared with Wyatt until his death.

  Normal? Who was she kidding?

  She focused on her breathing to slow the anxiety that threatened to overtake her, when her hand froze on the brass knob. Weird, since it was the middle of August in Texas and more than a hundred degrees here on the porch. She shivered slightly in spite of this knowledge, fighting for control. You're stronger than this.

  After what seemed like an eternity, her world slowly righted itself, her tingling fingers fell away from the doorknob, and she slowly lowered herself to the porch floor. Covering her eyes with both hands, she massaged her temple amid a sudden stabbing pain that felt like roughnecks drilling for oil. The sound of boots scraping on the steps diverted her attention away from the headache and she cringed.

  She'd come here today, in particular, because she thought she'd draw less of a crowd. The ranch hands were supposed to be out rounding up cattle in the north pastures. Bridey had mentioned she and Andrew had plans in Dallas for the day. The task before her was hard enough. She surely didn't need an audience.

  "Hey, Maggie, are you okay?" Graeme rested one
hand on her shoulder, while lifting her chin with the other. He looked deep into her eyes with concern.

  The silence hung between them for a few seconds, but she answered him before he asked again, "Yes, I'm fine. Must be the heat getting to me." He cupped his hand under her elbow helping her to stand.

  "Yeah, it's a scorcher." He led her over to the porch swing. Sitting beside her, he took her hand and gave her one of his trademark smiles that, if she were to venture a guess, made most women weak in the knees. Years ago, she'd been affected, too. But, she'd become immune to the abundant charms the men in this family possessed in spades.

  "Wow, two days in a row, I can usually hold it together better than this," Maggie said, embarrassed. Uncomfortable, she removed her hand from his and tried to deflect his attention. "Looks like I'm not the only crazy one. What in heaven's name are you doing walking around out here?"

  "First off, I didn't walk, I rode." He pointed toward the horse nibbling on the dry grass by the iron fence. "Second, Junebug sent me up here to check on the old place. I think he wanted me out from under foot."

  "Yeah, he never did want any of us hanging around." This was one of the things she'd thought about when she decided to move back out here. There was no privacy. Be it Junebug or Graeme, or the entire Benning family, she had to take control of her situation and the sooner the better.

  Standing, Maggie said quickly, "I really need to go on in the house. I have to get ready for the moving truck that'll be here this afternoon. You can report back to Junebug that the house is fine. I'm sure you have other things to do today."

  "No," Graeme said. "There's nothing else." He rested his forearms on his knees, laced his fingers together, and stared out into the small yard.

  "Well, I have a list a mile long and I…"

  "Listen, Maggie, I know it's been hard for you, and I want to say I'm sorry."

  His apology caught her off guard. Granted, a few months ago she'd been mad at him. Now she didn't have the energy, but he piqued her interest. "Just to be clear, what are you sorry for exactly?"