A Wedding for Maggie

by ALLISON LEIGH,

  “What on earth for?”

  Maggie frowned, studying her hands. She had a splinter in her palm that she hadn’t noticed before. “Coming here under false pretenses. I just...I just wanted to do what was right. Give Daniel some breathing—”

  “Whoa. Back up here. What false pretenses? Maggie, how many times have Matthew and I told you that you have a home here? It wouldn’t matter what reason you used. You’re here. Where you belong.”

  “But—”

  Jaimie wasn’t finished, though. “All I want is for you to be happy. My brother gave you a raw deal, and you stuck by him longer than a reasonable person should have been expected to. But this isn’t even about him. It’s about you being my best friend. You were the one who supported me emotionally. Remember? Who told me to find my place in the world, and damn anybody who didn’t like it. When I broke off my engagement to Tony Dayton, everyone thought I was out of my tree, including my own brother, but you understood completely. Tony was all wrong for me; he never would have tried to stop molding me into a suitable wife.” She smiled, her eyes glowing. “If it hadn’t been for you talking me into visiting and then moving to Wyoming in the first place, I’d have never met Matthew. I think it’s wonderful if you find happiness like that with Daniel.” She shrugged, laughing softly. “We’ll be sisters all over again.”

  “I didn’t say we’re—”

  “Getting married? Of course you are. I know Daniel. He wouldn’t have it any other way.”

  “Jaimie,” Maggie had to stop Jaimie from getting too carried away. “I have agreed to marry him, but—” She broke off, closing her eyes and expelling a long breath. “I’ve been married once to a man who didn’t love me.” She looked at Jaimie through a sheen of tears. “I don’t know if I can do it again,” she admitted huskily.

  Jaimie sobered. “I know you as well as anyone on this earth. Except maybe my husband. You wouldn’t be carrying Daniel’s child if you didn’t have very deep feelings for him. And Daniel is not Joe. Maybe you think he doesn’t love you, but he—well, he’s not Joe,” Jaimie finished. “Give him a chance. Give yourself a chance.”

  “But people...what will they say?”

  “Who cares?” Jaimie caught her hands, shaking them gently. “Mags, how could you be so supportive of me—when I know for a fact that people considered me a flighty nut—I mean, I never stuck with one thing in my life for more than a few months until I came to the Double-C and filled in for you as housekeeper. How on earth can you be so hard on yourself?”

  “I ... slept with him in August,” Maggie whispered. “I’d only just told you about your brother. What kind of person does that make me?”

  “Human.” Jaimie glanced toward the mudroom, but the children were oblivious to the discussion going on in the next room between their mothers. “The first time Matthew and I were together was when you were in the hospital, and we didn’t know whether you were going to lose J.D. or not What kind of person does that make me? Mags, you’re not your mother. You’re not going to walk out on your family ten years down the road. So stop living your life as if you have to make up for her failures. Things work out if you give them a chance. Let yourself love Daniel. There is no shame in that.”

  Maggie choked back a watery laugh. “I should’ve talked to you a long time ago.”

  Jaimie smiled faintly. “True,” she agreed. “But then you always did give the Clay men a run for their money in the stubborn department. And really, Daniel is the one you should be talking this stuff over with.” She dashed her fingers across her own damp cheeks. “Now. Tell me. How many weeks along are you? And when is the wedding?”

  Feeling lighter after her talk—her confession—with Jaimie, Maggie visited her worktable for a long while, then borrowed one of the trucks and drove out to the building site. The exterior had been painted, and the shingles were in place. No more special work crews were coming in to work. Electrical. Plumbing. It was all in place. What remained of the interior, Daniel planned to finish off himself.

  Considering the job he’d done on the guest suite in the big house, she doubted it would take him very long.

  She was glad that there weren’t a half dozen men working on the house. She wanted to talk to only one man. And she wanted some privacy in which to do it.

  She found him upstairs, sweating and stripped down to his sleeveless T-shirt despite the cold air. Working on the window seat he was building in J.D.’s bedroom. She watched for a while, her presence unknown to him, from the doorway. He set one nail after another, and thwack drove it home with one heavy swing of his hammer. Again and again, until she wondered why his muscles didn’t rebel against the unrelenting effort.

  She drew in a slow breath and smoothed her hair behind her ears. It was freezing in here. “Daniel.”

  He stiffened, cranking his head around. Then blinked as if he were surprised to see her. He probably was. Lord knew she’d given him no reason to expect otherwise. In the days past she’d only come to the house because it would have raised too many questions for her not to.

  Daniel focused on Maggie standing in the doorway, looking pretty as an angel in white atop a Christmas tree. Looking at her, he managed to push away the memories he’d been unsuccessfully trying to banish. He wiped his forearm across his sweaty forehead and sat back on his haunches. “Thought you were gonna work on your Christmas ornament order today,” he said.

  “I was.”

  He waited.

  “I...wanted to talk to you.”

  He glanced around, his jaw tight. “Nobody keeping you from it, Maggie.”

  She needlessly smoothed her hair again, wishing he would put on his shirt. She walked across the room, her footsteps echoing hollowly, and stopped near the sawhorses he’d been using. She balanced the plain-paper-wrapped package she’d brought with her on the sawhorse and tucked her hands up into the sleeves of her sweater, wishing also that she’d not left her coat downstairs in the kitchen. “I told Jaimie about the baby this morning.”

  “I see.”

  She couldn’t tell whether he was pleased or displeased. His very lack of reaction unnerved her. She knew he didn’t love her. But some type of response would be nice. “She said to tell you she thinks a winter wedding will be perfect.”

  He hefted his hammer and sent another nail driving into wood. “And what do you think,” he asked evenly.

  “I think marrying you is probably one of the biggest mistakes I could ever make,” she admitted frankly. Her hands twisted together and she swallowed, remembering her bone-deep relief when his clothes had still been in his closet. Then she also admitted the truth. “And I think not marrying you is probably an even bigger mistake.”

  “Well, hallelujah for that,” he muttered, driving another nail.

  “Look, Daniel. I know I haven’t been easy....”

  That earned her a quicksilver look.

  “But I’m making an effort here.”

  He nodded and sat back again. “All right.” He grabbed a handful of nails from the box on the floor beside him. “Anything else?”

  Maggie’s words dried up. She wondered at that moment what kind of fool she was, because Daniel seemed about as interested in their marriage plans as he would be over boiling an egg. She shook her head. “No. Not a thing. Except this.” She handed him the package.

  He took it slowly. “What is it?”

  “Open it.”

  But he already was untying the string and folding back the brown paper. Then he just sat there, looking at the plaque held in his big hands. “You made this.”

  She swallowed. “Yes. But if you don’t like it, just say so. I mean it’s really nothing but a...”

  “I like it.”

  “...welcome si—you do?”

  “Did you think I wouldn’t?”

  “Well, I did make it for your home without cons—”

  “Our home.” He stood and set the welcome sign on the window seat. Late-afternoon sunlight glinted through the windows, shining upon th
e sign. “That’s what the plaque says. Or are they just words?” He stepped closer.

  She’d spent the better part of that day making a new welcome sign to replace the one she’d originally planned. “They’re not just words,” she admitted. Not words. A dream.

  His fingers touched her jaw. Tilted it toward him. “Everything’ ll work out, Maggie Mae.” His voice was as quiet and soft and gentle as the thumb he smoothed over her lip.

  She couldn’t have stepped away from him just then to save her soul. And it had nothing to do with the sawhorses behind her. It was him. Drawing her into the misty gray of his eyes.

  Hardly breathing, she put her hands on his shoulders. Slid along the hard curve of sinew and muscle to his neck. “Promise?” She stretched up on her toes.

  He met her halfway. “I promise,” he said in the breath before their lips met.

  Then he circled her with his strong arms and held her against him for a long while.

  And for the first time in forever, she began to believe.

  Chapter Twelve

  With word of their engagement out, it seemed as if the big house went into chaos. Daniel supposed that it was no different than a hundred other households when news of a wedding hit, but he wasn’t entirely sure. Before a single day passed his whole family had known a wedding was in the works. As well as a baby.

  Not that he was entirely averse to the notion of a good old wedding. Even if Maggie did turn three shades of red whenever Jaimie started talking flowers and gowns and such. But that didn’t mean that all the twittering and chattering going on wasn’t getting sorely on his nerves.

  So the next afternoon he found himself accepting the refuge Jefferson offered. Only there was no refuge there. Not when he walked into his brother’s kitchen to find Coleman Black sitting, comfortable as you please, at their kitchen table. And Jefferson was nowhere to be found. Damn him, anyway.

  “I should’ve known my brother was up to something when he called me over here.” As a greeting, it left a lot to be desired.

  Coleman Black’s smile was noncommittal. “He’s concerned about you, Dan. So is the agency. Since you haven’t bothered to call lately, and I was in the area...” He leisurely tamped the tobacco in his pipe, then tucked it between his teeth, but made no attempt to light it. “You’re close to being, well, released, shall we say? Why let one incident derail an otherwise promising career?”

  “Incident?” Daniel felt like choking the man, that he could reduce the tragedy in Santo Marguerite to such an insignincant word. If he needed any more proof than he already had that he wasn’t cut out for the murky world that Hollins-Winword and Coleman Black operated in, he’d just gotten it. “I told you I wouldn’t be back.”

  “But your suspension is nearly over.”

  Daniel shook his head. “You could’ve suspended me for a week or five years or not at all. I’m out of it,” he stated flatly.

  Coleman shrugged faintly. “You’ve certainly told us that often enough. Pardon me if I’d hoped you’d reconsider. Your skills—”

  Daniel cut him off with a sharp movement of his hand. “No.”

  The other man studied his pipe for a moment again. “Jefferson says you’re getting married. Is it the same woman you mentioned this summer?”

  Seeing nothing but casual interest in Coleman’s eyes, Daniel felt some of his impatience drain away and nodded. The quicker he got Coleman out of Wyoming, the better he’d feel. But that didn’t mean he planned to bare his soul to his former boss. It was nobody’s business what he’d done in the summer. Nobody’s except his and Maggie’s.

  Only he’d excused his actions long enough. He’d left Maggie after the most incredible night he’d ever had, using the excuse of checking in with Coleman to salve his conscience about avoiding morning-afters. When the fact was, he’d been too cowardly to face Maggie the next day. Too cowardly to face himself.

  “Have you told her about what happened in Santo Marguerite?”

  Daniel didn’t fool himself that Cole was asking because of personal reasons. Hoilins-Winword operated in the shadows. In the agency’s opinion it was fine for the agency to know everything about its operatives, from the number of fillings in their teeth to the occupations and sleep habits of their family members. But turn the tables? Not acceptable.

  Nevertheless, if Daniel had thought it would have served one single good purpose, he’d tell Maggie whatever the hell he wanted to and damn the consequences. But he hadn’t told Maggie. What would have been the point? It would only turn her away from him. Make her doubt more than ever his ability to provide for them. To protect J.D. and the baby. So he gave Coleman the answer the man wanted, whatever the motives. “No.”

  Coleman sat forward, cradling his pipe. “What does Jefferson say about all this?”

  Daniel snorted. “Like he ever talks about his gig with Hollins-Winword? He was right. I shouldn’t have gotten involved with you guys. But I did. It was a mistake.”

  “I think you’re overreacting.”

  He pushed out of the chair and went to the windows, staring out at the drifting, blowing snow. “Angeline’s entire family... hell the entire village ..are dead, Cole.” He stared out at the drifting white. But in his mind he saw only destruction. Of roughly built homes burned to the ground and once-lush vegetation withered and dead. “And it’s my fault. Somehow I tipped my hand, and Arturo took it out on a lot of innocent people. That’s hardly overreacting.”

  Cole finally exhibited some impatience. “If you want to blame someone, blame Arturo and his bloody army. He wanted to control their land. They were expendable.”

  Daniel shook his head, unsurprised at Cole’s answer. Cole’s animosity for Arturo Sandoval was practically legendary. It was that very animosity that had no doubt led to the assignment in Santo Marguerite. “I should’ve known better than to fall for his tricks. You know it. I know it. That’s why you suspended me.”

  “Forget the suspension. I did it because it was the only way we could get you to take a break,” Cole corrected bluntly. “Which you did. The agency never said your return to active wasn’t desirable.”

  “It’s not desirable to me. So your visit was a wasted trip. We’re expanding the Double-C. I’m not going anywhere.”

  “I expect that willingness to stay here has a lot to do with your young woman.”

  Daniel snorted. “You going romantic on me, Cole? What’ll the guys at the office say?”

  Coleman smiled faintly at that. Hollins-Winword possessed nothing so mundane as an office. “I believe it’s written somewhere that weddings are supposed to be romantic. Not that I’m speaking from experience. I’ll leave love and all that to the rest of you.”

  Daniel didn’t want to think about love.

  “How do you feel about the progress in locating Angeline?”

  “There is no progress,” Daniel stated coldly. Coleman knew that. The man was just trying to get under his skin. Not necessarily because Daniel wasn’t going along with the request to stay with the agency, but because it was something Coleman Black enjoyed. Needling people. But Daniel wasn’t going along for that ride.

  Angeline was gone. End of story. He’d finally accepted the truth.

  They heard the slam of a door, then light footsteps. Emily and Maggie appeared in the doorway, Jefferson following them, his arms loaded with shopping bags.

  Emily breezed into her kitchen, greeting Coleman as if he was a regular visitor. Jefferson dumped the bags on the table, his eyes meeting Daniel’s silently. Without apology. Coleman rose, his attention on Maggie.

  Daniel stifled an oath. He didn’t need these two meeting. He really didn’t. But there wasn’t anything he could do about the situation, because Emily did the introducing before the silence had a remote chance of becoming awkward.

  Maggie smiled at the man and shook his hand, trying not to let her concern show. She could sense Daniel’s tension rolling off him in thick waves.

  Then Leandra and J.D. scrambled into the kitch
en adding to the contusion as they darted here and there, bouncing a small ball between them.

  Maggie smiled and glanced at Daniel. His hands were clenched around a half-empty cigarette pack. Coleman Black was watching the lively little girls thoughtfully, casting a look Daniel’s way now and then.

  Then the man smiled easily at Maggie. “This is your daughter, then.”

  Maggie nodded, not sure why she felt wary. She just did. Perhaps it had to do with the way Daniel’s knuckles were white around the cigarette pack. Finally she could stand it no more, and she touched his shoulder. He jerked and stepped away from the table as if she’d sprouted fangs and a tail. “I’m expecting a delivery at the house,” he announced abruptly. ”I’ll get you and J.D. later,” he told Maggie.

  Maggie stared after him. She would have blamed Daniel’s sudden departure on the girls bouncing around like jumping beans. But Daniel had been uptight even before they’d entered the kitchen. She looked up at Emily and Jefferson’s guest but J.D. and Leandra chose that moment to dash out of the kitchen, talking about needing “makeup like mama.”

  “I’d better put a lid on that idea,” she said, and hurried after the girls. She caught them down the hallway and managed after some concerted effort to redirect their exuberance into the relative safety of Leandra’s bedroom. Then Maggie headed back to the kitchen. She stopped before reaching the doorway, though, as she heard Coleman Black speak.

  “This J.D. is how old? Three? Four?”

  “Nearly four.” That was Jefferson.

  “Ahh,” the other man said softly. “Angeline was four, too.”

  Angeline. Maggie stepped into the kitchen, drawing three sets of eyes. “Jefferson, could you give me a ride out to the house?”

  His dark blue eyes narrowed. Then he nodded. “Let’s go.”

  When Jefferson dropped her off at the house, he offered to come in with her, but she declined. She felt certain Daniel didn’t want any company.

  Not even hers.