The Only Man for Maggie

by Leigh Michaels

  "My hand hurts," she grumbled, and held it up.

  "Can you move your fingers?"

  She wriggled them obediently and tried to look at him again. This time nothing was revolving, but she could see a blizzard of white around her. She turned her head a little and regarded the mess. There were papers scattered down the stairs and across the landing; the box he'd been carrying was upside down on the bottom step. "Dammit, Elliot, I told you to be careful with that box," she said spitefully.

  Karr didn't answer. "Your hand's okay, Maggie. I'm more worried about your leg."

  "Oh, just help me up. I'll be fine once I get my breath back. And I'll be even better as soon as you've picked up all my stuff." She managed to roll onto her side and tried to raise herself up on her hands. The one she'd cracked against the stairs ached like fury, but she thought it would hold her weight.

  Karr pushed her gently back to the floor. "Nope," he said. "At a minimum, you've wrenched your knee, and it needs attention. Put your arms around my neck."

  "If you think you get a hug for this—"

  He gathered her up bodily, cradling her in his arms. "Pick up all this paper," he ordered one of the workmen. "I don't want to slip on it and drop her down another flight of steps."

  "That's what you say," Maggie grumbled. "I wouldn't put it past you, myself. You'd do anything to get me out of here, wouldn't you, Karr?" She knew even as she said it how unfair it was, but the shock had dislodged her tongue somehow and she couldn't seem to get it under control. "How long was I out, anyway?"

  She thought he wasn't going to answer, but finally he said quietly, "The longest twenty seconds of my life."

  "Thought you'd killed me, hmm?" But the tone of his voice had reassured her, in an odd sort of way. Maggie put her head down against his shoulder and sighed. Being carried like this really wasn't bad at all. She felt as light as a feather.

  His grip tightened a little, and his breath stirred the hair at her temple. "Maggie, I'm sorry I lost my temper."

  She perked up at that and opened her eyes. "Sorry enough to let me stay, I hope."

  "Rawlings, you're incorrigible."

  "Well, you can't kick me out now," she argued. "I'm wounded. If I'm too stiff even to move myself around, how can you expect me to pack up everything I own? And after what you did to that box, you can't believe I'll let you touch anything more."

  He didn't even bother to answer that. Two points for me, Maggie thought.

  The leather seat of the Mercedes didn't feel as soft as she remembered it, and she howled when he put her down.

  "What is it?" Karr said.

  "I must have bumped my hip too." Maggie tried rubbing the sore spot, but her hand hurt too much. She gave it up as impossible.

  She half-expected that the moment he'd handed her over to the emergency room personnel, he'd be history. But periodically through the next hour, while she was poked and prodded and X-rayed, Karr would appear at the door of the treatment room, looking concerned.

  No doubt he was worried about the way this little episode would look to a judge, Maggie thought.

  She finally told him to stop standing around in the hall because he was making her nervous. She didn't really intend it as an invitation to make himself at home, but he obviously did; he was sitting next to her bed when the doctor came in to tell her the only major damage was that she'd fractured one of the bones in her lower leg.

  Maggie looked at the doctor in disbelief. "You've got to be kidding. That's the spot that hurts least!"

  "You're quite lucky as it is, Miss Rawlings," the doctor said firmly. "With the fall you took, it could easily have been a compound fracture that would have required surgery. Or you could have a severe concussion, or a broken hip. Beside those possibilities, six weeks in a leg cast will be—"

  "Six weeks?" Maggie howled. "I have to hobble around in a cast for six weeks?"

  "Well, if you want to be technical," the doctor said, "it won't be the kind of cast you can put your weight on, so you won't be hobbling exactly. You'll be using crutches. Don't worry; our physical therapists will come in tomorrow to teach you how to use them." He smiled cheerfully and departed to arrange for the cast to be applied.

  "What did he mean, tomorrow?" Maggie asked warily.

  "They'll no doubt want to keep you overnight for observation, just to be sure everything's all right."

  "Oh, that's just great. You put them up to this, didn't you, Elliot?"

  "Why would I—" Karr began, and abruptly stopped, as if he remembered all too clearly why he'd like to have her safely out of the way.

  Maggie smiled grimly. "I know—you'd rather not admit it."

  "I didn't organize this, Maggie." He stood up as an aide bustled in with a cart, and before Maggie could say another word, he was gone.

  Not for long, however; as soon as she was settled in a room with her cast propped on a pillow, he reappeared. "I'll leave you to rest, and I'll pick you up tomorrow when you're released. Do you want me to bring you anything in the meantime? Or call anybody? I've already talked to Libby, but is there anyone else?"

  "No." Maggie tried to think. "There's nothing I can think of… except Tripp. Oh, no, what am I going to do about him? Maybe Libby will go get him—"

  "I'll take care of the toupee."

  Maggie gave him a baleful look. "Is that offer supposed to comfort me?"

  "Of course. As long as he behaves himself, I won't deep-fat-fry him." He was gone before Maggie could find an answer.

  The cast weighed a ton, and it kept Maggie from sleeping. Or perhaps it was her sore muscles which kept her awake; every time she moved she was reminded of her fall.

  And when she did doze off, she recalled that helpless, hopeless, weightless moment when she first knew she was going down the stairs and nothing could stop her—and instantly she'd jerk awake again.

  As a result, she was heavy-eyed and in a particularly glum mood the next morning.

  Breakfast was long over, the doctor had given his approval for her to go home as soon as the therapist had been in, and the nurse's aide who helped her get dressed had slit the leg of her jeans all the way to the hip to get them on over the cast.

  Maggie was sitting in a chair with her foot propped up on a hassock, gloomily surveying the cast and the ruin of an expensive pair of jeans and waiting for Chad Buckley to return her phone call, when a bubbly physical therapist popped in.

  "You're looking on top of the world today," the therapist chirped.

  "Personally, I think I look like a beached white whale," Maggie muttered.

  "Oh, you'll soon get used to the cast, and the six weeks will be gone before you know it. There are some tricks to using crutches, of course…"

  "I hate to waste your time, but I used to play with crutches as a kid. It must be like riding a bike—you never forget how."

  "You may find it a little different as an adult," the therapist warned. "Let me show you a few tricks."

  Half an hour later she was still going strong. There was a knock on the half-open door, and Chad Buckley stuck his head in. His eyes widened in shock at the sight of her cast.

  Maggie sank into her chair, relieved at the interruption. Every muscle ached, and she was ready to concede that it might take a while to get back into shape. "You got my message."

  "I could hardly believe it when my secretary told me you were in the hospital. What did you do to yourself?"

  The therapist said, "Would you like me to come back later, Miss Rawlings?"

  "Oh—I think I've had enough for one session."

  Chad started to back out of the room. "If you're busy—"

  "Just finishing up." Maggie smiled at the therapist. "Thanks, I think I've got it now."

  The therapist went out, and Maggie leaned back in her chair with a sigh of relief and smiled at Chad.

  He grinned. "It's certainly nice to be so welcome. So how did you do all the damage?"

  "I fell down a flight of stairs while in hot pursuit of my stolen property
."

  "I don't think I like the sound of this."

  "Oh? I was sure you'd love it. It was my landlord who'd stolen the property."

  "All right. It has some possibilities. Tell me more."

  Maggie glanced at the clock. It was almost noon; Karr had said he'd pick her up this morning, but he hadn't shown up yet, and there was no predicting when he'd come. She supposed he might have said it only to keep her confined while he packed up the rest of her belongings.

  "I'll be happy to tell you what happened," she said briskly. "But as long as you're here, would you spring me out of this place and take me home?"

  Chad frowned. "Are you sure that's a good idea? Are you even allowed to leave, with that thing on?"

  "Of course. Would I be dressed otherwise? I could be gone now if it wasn't for the therapist taking so long." Maggie pushed herself up from her chair and balanced on one foot while she fumbled with her crutches.

  "Well—all right, if you're sure." He reached, a little awkwardly, for her elbow.

  Maggie wondered what good he thought that kind of assistance would do. She shook her head at him and got the crutches properly centered under her arms.

  Nothing to it, she thought. Once she had some practice…

  Chad hovered all the way to the parking lot, so close that a couple of times Maggie almost bumped his foot with a crutch tip.

  He was driving a little red sports car, and Maggie looked at it doubtfully. The seats were so low and the space around them so tiny that she wasn't certain she could fit her cast in at all. It took three tries and a bit of maneuvering before she was finally settled, and by then she was breathless with the effort.

  "So what happened?" he asked as he started the engine.

  "Elliot the Great and I had a little disagreement about whether I was moving out, and I fell down the stairs."

  "You mean you fell, or he pushed you? We might be able to file charges for assault and battery, Margaret."

  "No," Maggie said with regret. "He didn't shove me. In fact, I seem to recall that he tried to catch me. I reached for a box of papers he was carrying, but I missed and—boom."

  "What papers?"

  "All the stuff for the special issue I'm working on. Can I file charges on him for assaulting my property?"

  "Not exactly."

  Maggie went on, almost to herself, "I'll be a month sorting out the damage—except I haven't got a month. And if I don't get that special section done on time, I won't have a job either."

  "That fact might present some possibilities."

  "Really? Take a left here and stay on this road all the way out of town."

  They were on the outskirts of Eagleton before Chad asked, "Have you got a formal eviction notice yet?"

  She shook her head. "Not unless it's posted on my door when I get home. He just walked in and started packing up my belongings."

  "Now that gives me something to work with. I'll have to think it over, but I'll let you know what we can do."

  Maggie said hesitantly, "Maybe I should warn you that I did a few things too." She told him about the plumber.

  Chad pursed his lips thoughtfully. "That doesn't help the case, Margaret. But I think in the end…" They were out in the country by then. He looked around and cast a speculative glance at Maggie. "Where are we going, anyway? Are you sure it's worth the kind of pitched battle we're talking about to stay out here in the back of beyond?"

  "Eagle's Landing is very peaceful." At least it had been till yesterday, she reflected.

  "So is a cemetery, but that doesn't mean it's a good place to live."

  Maggie directed him to the side door, and as he came around the car to help her out, Chad cast a curious look up at the house. "So this is what all the hubbub's about?"

  Everything was quiet. She couldn't see the parking area at the back of the house, so she didn't know if the Mercedes was there. But not a single workman's van was in sight, and there wasn't a screeching chainsaw to be heard anywhere. It was the lunch hour, Maggie noted; maybe the workers had all gone off to have their break together.

  She thought it more likely, however, that Karr had pulled them off the job—holding his troops in reserve, as it were, till she got home. After all, there was no sense in wasting all the noise and mess and dirt if the target of it wasn't there to be annoyed.

  It was every bit as difficult to maneuver herself out of the sports car as it had been to get in. "Thanks for the ride, Chad."

  "Sure you'll be all right? I wish I could stay a while and help you get settled, but I have appointments this afternoon." He smiled slyly. "I could bring dinner tonight, and come up with some ideas to take your mind off that leg—"

  "If I'm feeling sociable I'll let you know," Maggie said hastily. "But I really think I'll need to catch up on my sleep."

  He looked disappointed. "Well, I suppose you know best." He gave a cheerful wave, and the little red car zipped off down the drive.

  Maggie swung up the side steps and managed to pull the door open. From the hall, she could see into the kitchen. All the cabinets were gone, and part of the ceiling had been ripped down; there was a ragged hole in one corner, where a cabinet must have resisted and been pulled loose by brute force. The destruction took her breath away.

  She had to pick her way carefully across the parquet floor of the hallway to the stairs; the patterns in the wood were coated with sawdust, and debris was strewn everywhere. Even the tiniest bit of wood or dirt or broken glass could be hazardous to her crutches.

  Besides, Maggie thought irritably, the floor ought to have a good sweeping before the workmen's feet ground the dirt and debris right through the finish and scarred the wood beyond repair.

  But of course that hardly mattered, did it? It was one thing to remove kitchen cabinets or French doors or mantels, but it would be impractical to disassemble and try to save the delicate inlay of a parquet floor. It would take far too much time to be profitable-and so the bits of wood and dirt and broken glass would probably stay exactly where they were now.

  She stopped at the bottom of the main stairs and took a deep breath. Never had the flight looked so long, so steep and so high. She balanced herself carefully on one foot, braced the crutches on the first step, and levered herself up.

  "One down, twenty-odd to go," she told herself. That was only this flight, of course; she wouldn't even think about the next set, leading up to her apartment, till she got there. "Slow and steady, Maggie—that's the way."

  Ever so slowly she climbed, eight inches at a time. Her arms were aching with the effort by the time she reached the next floor, and it was a relief to be back on flat territory for a few moments, till she got across the landing and to the attic stairs. They were narrower, and she had to be even more careful with the crutches. But finally she was at the top.

  Beyond the closed door of her apartment, Tripp was yelping in excitement. "It's okay, baby," Maggie soothed. "It's just going to take me longer than usual to get around, I'm afraid. You'll have to be patient. I'll be there in a minute."

  The door was locked. And, she remembered with dismay, her key was inside, safely tucked into her handbag.

  After her fall, locking her apartment had been the farthest thing from her thoughts.

  But Karr had obviously remembered.

  Of course, Maggie thought. He wouldn't want to be held responsible for any damage or loss while he was in charge. And she really couldn't blame him; she was the one who'd been threatening him with lawsuits right and left.

  But how had he done it? Had he gone looking for her key? She hoped he'd found the one in her handbag and not the spare she'd long ago hidden on the landing in case of emergency.

  Or had he perhaps changed the locks in order to keep her out? Surely not; he was planning to pick her up at the hospital himself, so he wouldn't expect her to be back yet.

  Under normal circumstances, she had to stand on her tiptoes to reach the ledge where she'd stowed the extra key; today, balancing on one foot, it was even mo
re of a challenge. But the key was there, and to her relief, it fit the lock.

  She let herself in and sank into the nearest chair, mopping perspiration from her brow. The therapist was right; this business of being on crutches was a lot more difficult that she remembered. It had seemed so much more an adventure when she was a child, playing with an old, discarded set.

  Tripp was bouncing around her like a ping-pong ball, jumping up in an effort to lick her, even leaping onto her lap and then off again, too excited to stay still. Maggie tried to pet him, but he was too impatient, so she sat back in her chair and tried to relax.

  She was half-afraid to look around.

  But everything seemed just the same as she'd left it. Even her papers had been returned, she was surprised to see; the box sat squarely in the center of the library table.

  The contents were a mess, of course—the box looked as if her notes and files had been picked up at random from the stairs and thrust in any old way.

  She sighed. It appeared she hadn't overestimated the effort of straightening them out. But she'd have nothing but work to occupy her time for the next few weeks—she certainly wasn't going to be doing any jogging.

  She'd half expected to see all her things packed up, but apparently nothing else had been touched. Perhaps Karr really was sorry for losing his temper, she thought. That possibility, coupled with the unarguable fact that he was partially responsible for her injury, probably put Maggie in the best bargaining position she'd occupied all along…

  Tripp sat at her feet, bright eyes focused on her face, and gave his I-want-to-go-out bark.

  "No," Maggie said firmly.

  Tripp tipped his head to one side and repeated the demand.

  Maggie groaned. There was no telling how long it had been since the dog had been walked. She didn't doubt that Karr had kept his word; after all, she hadn't forced him to volunteer his services as a dog-sitter.

  But what if Tripp had refused to have anything to do with him? The dog had a stubborn streak every inch as big as he was, and he cordially hated Elliot the Great. Why hadn't she thought of that yesterday, and insisted that Karr call Libby to take charge of the dog?