Without flinching, Ed ran a finger around the rim of the shot glass. Long moments dragged by while his mind resembled a blank slate. He knew if he drank enough he could make those blank periods last longer. Blackouts—they enticed him and terrorized him. He would be able to function, but not remember. Was that bliss, or a coward’s way out? It wouldn’t take long, if he only had the courage to take that first drink.
Hah. So many people in those meetings he’d been attending talked about the courage necessary to avoid next drink. Here he was asking himself if he had the guts to lift a single glass to his lips and let the stinging, hot whisky glide down his throat. He could practically feel the familiar burning. So why didn’t he just gulp the damn stuff down and get on with it?
He could leave them all behind. No Maggie harping at him, wanting more than he could give. No worrying about which kid was going to get injured next. No wondering when they’d all figure out he didn’t measure up—that he was some kind of fake, a figment of their imagination.
Ed glanced furtively around with renewed awareness. His senses sharpened. How long had he been sitting like that, gawking at his future? The waitress and bartender stared at him as if he were an alien. He scratched the two-day growth of beard. He swore inwardly at the booze. He swore at the memories.
Why couldn’t he just walk away from her? He didn’t owe her anything. Not anymore. He’d paid his debt. But she wanted more, much more.
The bouncy, buxom waitress stood in front of him. “Listen, Bud, if you’re gonna drink, drink up. We’re gonna be closing soon. And don’t forget my tip.” Leaning over, jiggling huge breasts, she whispered, “Or maybe you’ve got something else in mind. You’ve got possibilities. I can see that.”
She withered under his icy glare. “Okay, I get the message, Bud. Why don’t you just get out of here? You give me the willies. Any man who buys whiskey and beer and then just stares at them for more than an hour can’t be much of a man in my book.” The waitress brushed back curly brown hair and then flounced off to serve other customers.
Ed hardly knew she’d left. He wet his lips. Trying to steady his hand, he reached for the whiskey glass. Lifting it, he paused, and then slammed it down, splashing its contents over the scarred table.
He might be able to run from all of them, but he knew he’d never be able to run from himself.
Pushing his chair back, Ed stumbled getting up. He threw some coins on the table and rushed toward the exit.
Outside, Ed gulped for air. His hand shook like some ancient reminder of what used to be and could so easily have been again. He placed a hand in his pocket and curled his fingers around the ninety day chip.
Sobriety was a daily battle. Everybody said it. He knew it. And this day, he had been victorious—so far. He had not been that close to a drink since he was accosted by the tiny blonde woman in Des Moines. Dangerously close. Wiping his mouth with the back of his hand, he staggered, bone tired, down the alley toward his truck.
“Not so fast, Mister,” thundered a stocky man dressed in dark clothing. Grabbing Ed by his open collar, the stranger jerked him nearly off his feet.
Ed kept his mouth shut. His senses went into overdrive. He was keenly aware of a second man standing behind him ready to pounce.
“Rushing back to take care of the little babe?” The man laughed derisively, pushing and pulling Ed back and forth as if he were a rag doll.
Ed went limp; he’d been rolled before. It didn’t pay to put up a fight. Let them take his money. Wasn’t much anyway.
“We just want to help you on your way, friend. But we want to make sure you’re going in the right direction. Crawl back to Chicago, to New Orleans, to California. Anywhere but back to her farm. You don’t want to get caught up in Maggie Anderson’s battles.” The burly man jerked him again. “Nothing good can come to you from that. Just in case you have a short memory from all the booze you drank, we’re gonna tattoo the message clear…on your body.”
Ed felt himself being pushed backwards into the waiting arms of the second stranger who stretched him out like a helpless scarecrow. And then the fists started pelting his body. First the solar plexus. Then the rib cage. The man holding him managed to do damage to Ed’s kidneys.
“You won’t go near that farm again, if you know what’s good for you.” The only man to speak pounded until Ed could no longer see through bruised eyes. A blow to the jaw loosened some teeth.
Through a haze, Ed felt cartilage in his nose break. Then, mercifully, he was on the pavement. The smaller assailant kicked him in the groin repeatedly. Ed tried vainly to roll into a ball.
“That bitch is more than you can handle anyway, cowboy. You better heed our message,” the little man wheezed. “The next one won’t be near so gentle.”
Vaguely, Ed heard their footsteps retreating. There was a hysterical internal laugh when he realized that they didn’t get his money. Then there was blackness. Total blackness.
- o -
The kitchen phone rang at eight a.m., jangling Maggie’s already frayed nerves. She grabbed it on the second ring.
“Yes,” she said warily.
“Maggie, it’s me, Flo. How are you?
“I’m okay. What’s up?” Maggie knew her attempt at cheerfulness fell flat. Her throat was so dry it was a wonder she could talk.
“I’m not sure I should have called.” Flo hesitated. “Does that man, Harrington, still work for you?”
Maggie ran fingers through her hair wishing she knew the answer to that question, but she was no sphinx. “I don’t know. He stormed out of here a couple days ago.”
A deafening silence ensued. Finally, Maggie could wait no longer. “What have you heard, Flo? Why did you ask?”
“Well, Mel was just in for breakfast. Harrington is the talk of the town, but I don’t know how much is rumor.”
“Will you just spit it out?” Maggie struggled to control her rising temper. What could the bar owner possibly know about Ed? Oh, no!
“Ed was beaten up last night outside Mel’s place.”
Stunned, Maggie gasped, slumping against the wall.
“Maybe I shouldn’t have said anything,” came the weak whisper over the phone.
“No. No. You did right,” Maggie assured her friend. “I’ve just got to think, that’s all. I’ll get back to you later.”
After hanging up the phone, Maggie leaned against the sink. Acid gnawing on her stomach threatened to escape. She lowered her head onto the cool sink. What to do?
What to feel? Guilt for pushing him too far. No, he was already running before she ever suggested he move into the house. Anger. Damn right, she was angry. They’d had so much to look forward to. Now there was nothing but memories. Relief? Maybe eventually. Right now there was too much numbness to experience any relief.
Whatever she might feel, even if she did want to crawl under a rock and hide, she had to know what really happened. My God, who would stoop to beat him up, even if he was drunk? She had to determine if the idiot was okay. If he was, then she could give him a quick kick in the ass and send him packing.
First things first. She’d call Mel and find out what had really happened.
- o -
Ed sniffed lavender. God, it was such a lovely smell. He recognized her scent before he could force an eyelid open. Her touch on his fingers was warm and comforting.
“Where…” he managed to murmur.
“You’re in the hospital,” Maggie said. “Mel found you in the alley by the tavern when he left for home. You’ve been beaten badly, Ed.”
Behind closed eyes, Ed winced at the quiver in her voice and tremble in her fingers. He figured he didn’t look so good.
“Doc says no internal damage. But you’re going to hurt like hell for days.” Maggie picked up a paper cup of water with a bent straw. “Here, try to sip some water.”
With great effort, Ed swallowed twice and then pushed the cup away. He squinted his eyes open and sighed. It hurt like hell to even breathe. “You loo
k a mess,” he said at last. Actually, he’d never seen a more attractive sight in his entire life. With mussed up hair, no makeup, and a rapidly thrown together appearance, she looked more bewitching than ever. Nor did he fail to notice the worry lines marring her forehead.
“Well, you’re not going to win any beauty contest for awhile,” she countered, squeezing his fingers gently.
“No, don’t suppose,” he muttered, nodding off.
- o -
Maggie waited as he slept. She always seemed to be waiting for this man to do something: to come to work for her, to love her, to come back to her. Of all the possible men out there in the universe, she couldn’t fathom why her heart had been captured by a tumbleweed like Ed Harrington.
She had more confidence in the man than he had in himself. Was he wrong, or was she? Tearfully, she contemplated their bleak future. Would he come back and reclaim his job? He couldn’t really go anywhere else for a while, given the shape he was in.
Tracing her fingertips across the hairs of his forearm, she wondered if he would ever come back to her. She didn’t think she could stand working next to him without also loving him. She could turn a clock back, but she couldn’t figure out how to do the same with her heart. Would he run away again? Would he run from anything that smacked of commitment?
Right now, all she wanted was for him to recover and to own the love that she knew they shared. She had to be in his arms. The rest could wait.
Maybe she was being foolish. She’d spent most of her life not being foolish. What was it her mother used to say when quoting the Bible? “There is a time for everything.” Maybe it was time for being foolish.
Maggie smiled, imagining some of the whimsical things she wanted to do with the man lying in the raised hospital bed. He looked so pale, and the room so sterile. The man who could work miracles with horses and with her kids and with her body looked so out of place lying bruised and battered against white hospital sheets.
- o -
An hour later, Ed wrenched himself into a half sitting position. “There,” he declared with a degree of satisfaction, “I’ll be out of here in no time.” He grimaced at the alarm darkening Maggie’s features. So she didn’t share his assessment of his physical well-being.
Ignoring his comment, Maggie said, “Cops are going to want to talk with you about what happened as soon as you’re able.”
“Nothing much to say,” he grunted.
“They know it wasn’t robbery. Your wallet was intact, even with cash in it.”
“Yeah, it wasn’t robbery,” he agreed grudgingly. Ed closed his eyes. How could he keep her from knowing why the guys beat him up? Should he? Was she in danger? The kids? He doubted that.
Maggie pre-empted him. “You were beat up because you helped me, weren’t you?”
Her words were like another blow to his solar plexus. He didn’t want to tell her, to add fuel to her fears. But she sat erect—so defiant—on the edge of the bed. Her face appeared frozen in worry. He’d never be able to elude her. She’d know immediately if he lied.
“You’re too smart for your own good at times, Maggie.” He closed his eyes seeking darkness. “Just let it lie. Let me get out of here, out of your life, and you’ll be all right.”
“No,” she said with a dry chuckle. “You’re not going to get away from me that easily. And whoever beat you up, or whoever paid to have you beaten, will not be satisfied until I go belly up. I have no intention of doing that. Magees don’t cave in while there’s an ounce of fight left in them.”
She placed her small hand on top of his large one.
“You are coming home with us. We’ll help you heal, Ed. You are a very good man, a decent man. Please don’t throw yourself on a garbage heap.”
The glitter in her eyes mesmerized him. He wanted to cry. What did this woman see in him? Over and over, he’d let her down, and she was still there goading and egging him on. She left him little choice. Had he ever really had a choice about her? At last he spoke. “Maggie, I didn’t drink.” A tear eased its way down his right cheek.
Maggie leaned over to brush it away with the tip of a finger. “I know you didn’t. Mel told me. If you had, I wouldn’t be here.” She gave him a weak smile. “Despite what you may think Ed, I didn’t save you. You saved yourself.”
Even with cracked ribs, he let out a huge sigh. Gazing up at the tear-streaked woman, he managed a trace of a grin. “You’re right, Maggie.”
He saw her lips thin. Then she took in large gulps of air. She squeezed his fingers too tight, but he wasn’t about to tell her stop. He knew she was measuring what to say next.
“You should know that I’ve done a lot of thinking—about us,” she said softly. “I love you, you battered oaf.” Her declaration sounded almost defiant.
She stopped speaking to pull the blanket up tighter over his chest. “You need to know that. I don’t know what you will do. But you gotta know. But maybe then you’re not ready for a strong woman in your life.”
Closing his eyes, Ed tried to feel nothing. He failed miserably. His lungs expanded and he felt a deep urge to cry. Why did she have to name it? Why couldn’t she let things be? No, not Maggie. She wouldn’t settle for anything less than the sun, the moon, and the stars. She wanted it all, including him.
“I want you to come back,” Maggie pressed on not waiting for a reply. “The kids and I will help you heal. You’ll continue to help me build a racing stable. And I promise…” Her voice rose, faltered and caught in her throat. “I promise,” she sobbed, “that I will not seduce you again. If we are to be together in that way, you’ll have to take the lead.”
Ed slouched back on the pillows, deeply gratified by the effort Maggie was making to place all their lives back on some sort of even keel. How could he resist?
He nodded at her. “Okay,” he whispered, frowning. “I don’t know what to do with you.” He flashed her a feeble smile. “You deserve so much more.”
Maggie remained at his side, shook her head and tenderly stroked his hand.
He waited several moments, reveling in her touch, before asking, “But what about the bad guys?”
“Let’s just take it one step at a time. They may give up.”
“They won’t give up.”
“Well, neither will we. We’re survivors, Ed.” Maggie brushed the tips of her fingers across his cheek. “Somehow, we’ll make it.”
He’d never grow tired watching Maggie’s emotions skip so vividly across her bright blue eyes. He found her strength contagious; she gave him an emotional transfusion.
Still groggy, Ed drew in upon himself. He could no longer see her, but Maggie’s presence was no less powerful. Grudgingly, he acknowledged that love was a much more powerful force than drink. Love was demanding, requiring patience and much more than he ever thought was possible. In the long run, though, love endured. He had heard of such a truth, but never before had he experienced it.
So why did he still feel like a fake waiting for her to see through the illusion?
CHAPTER TWELVE
Johnny gawked at Ed lying on the bed in the loft apartment.
Ed squinted back at the boy and managed a lopsided grin. The fear and disappointment writ so clearly on Johnny’s crestfallen face troubled Ed. He regretted bringing more danger to the lad and to his family. But Maggie was probably right: they were in danger, with or without him.
“Gosh, you look terrible,” the boy mumbled, not able to take his eyes off Ed’s multicolored welts. “How did you let them beat you up so bad?”
Chagrined by the boy’s shaking faith, Ed understood Johnny’s disappointment. Clearly, his hero now had clay feet. “They surprised me, and they were huge,” Ed grunted in response. “Wait ‘til next time.”
“Okay.” Johnny grinned broadly and gave Ed a high five.
“You look sort of like a Picasso. Somber colors mixed with purple and yellow, lines sharp, bold even in defeat,” Carolyn said. A hint of a smile crossed her lips.
Appreciating the girl’s attempt at humor, Ed chuckled softly. Damn, the ribs still hurt when he laughed. “Don’t think anyone has described me better. How are you doing, girl? Are you keeping the horses exercised?”
“Of course. What did you expect?”
“Nothing less.” He grinned. She sure was plucky—she’d turned out to be a first rate hand. Good natural horse sense and patience could take her a long way in this business, if she wanted. Maybe she’d be a racetrack veterinarian.
“Hey,” he said, catching Maggie’s eye. “Looks like your daughter is trying to gain some weight.
Both mother and daughter frowned and looked at Ed as if his medicines were making him nutty.
“Sure, isn’t that a lot of new metal in the ear?”
“Oh,” Carolyn responded. “Do you like it?” She giggled, bending her ear closer for him to inspect. “Mom doesn’t. But then she’ll just have to get used to it.”
Ed scowled. “I’m not going to get in the middle of that one. I take it this is a cry for independence.”
Carolyn ignored him, jutting her chin out just like her mom did when she was upset with him. Maggie had mentioned that she thought a boy might be entering the girl’s life. Problems. Maybe. She might not have as much time for horses. But at least in the short run, a boy would help boost her confidence. Closing his eyes, he hoped she wasn’t as passionate as her mom, at least for another decade.
Finally, Ed said, “Guess the horses won’t be bothered by your new jewelry.”
“Thanks, Ed,” Carolyn murmured. She squeezed his fingers lightly. “Thanks for understanding.”
“Why don’t you and Johnny run along now and finish the evening chores?” Maggie instructed, getting up from a chair. “I’ll be along after I’ve had a chance to see how much of this chicken soup our patient can handle.”
As her kids hurried down the stairs two steps at a time, Maggie leaned over and plopped a wet kiss on Ed’s forehead.
Heat Wave (Riders Up) Page 16
