The Guilt of a Sparrow

by Jess B. Moore

  “I'll go start coffee.” I kissed her forehead, not daring to taste her lips. We would not leave the bed if I let myself start kissing her in earnest. She let me move away from her, and stayed there curled up in my bed. In my sheets. Where she was mine. “Come out whenever you're ready.”

  She nodded, and her wide eyes followed me as I pulled on a clean shirt and left the room.

  I saw Beau was out on the deck with a steaming mug. I checked the pot and found it mostly full. Good.

  “Morning, Cotton.” And there was Beau joining me in the kitchen.

  “Morning.” I pulled mugs from the cabinet, taking time to pick one for Maggie I thought she'd like best.

  “What are you two doing today?” I liked his assumption I would spend the day with my girl.

  “Hiking up to Raven Falls. It's her favorite spot.”

  “Good.” He nodded and smiled into his coffee. “I'm happy for you. She's a sweet girl.”

  “Yes. She is.” She was so much more than that, but I got the feeling my brother knew and I didn't need to explain. I also got the feeling he had more to say on the matter.

  “Are you worried?”

  “About?”

  “Mrs. Porter.”

  I looked past where Beau stood, and made sure Maggie wasn't on her way down to the kitchen yet. Just in case, I leaned across the island on my elbows before I voiced my answer.

  “Honestly? Yes.” I pulled in a breath, tried to sort my thoughts, then shook off my worry. “She hates me. I never cared before, but now, it matters.”

  “She will always hate you. And I suspect she will always have a strong hold on Maggie.”

  “You're not telling me anything I don't already know.”

  “I think that girl has been waiting all her life to step out of the role she's played.” Beau's lips curled into a sad smile as he shared his thoughts. “All she's ever been was Luke's little sister, the good one of the Porter kids. She wants to be more than that. Needs; she needs to be more.”

  I gave a stiff nod. He was right. Everyone knew that Luke was the bad one, and Maggie was the good one. After Luke died, and it was just Maggie, I thought she could shrug off those expectations. Then I realized it was too late because she'd already spent too many years being that girl - the one that put everyone else first, that always worked to keep the peace, the girl that shied away and people forgot about. I saw all of those things in her. I saw that they weren't bad qualities. But she needed to know also how to think for herself, to make decisions based on what she wanted rather than what was expected of her. I could stand with her, and I could help her. I loved Magnolia Porter, and I wanted what was best for her, and I was more than happy to put her first.

  “You're right.” I stood and checked again for Maggie's arrival. If she didn't come down soon, I'd bring coffee up to her. “We're stopping by her place this morning. I imagine there will be an opportunity for her to stand up for herself. If she can't do it, I will.”

  I remembered her words the night before, that she liked it when I stepped in with her mama. She liked it because no one had ever done that for her. I didn't know the whole story with her daddy, just that he'd been gone since we were little kids. I knew that what was left of her family, between her mama and her brother, neither of them would be putting Maggie first. It was a wretched feeling all over my body, a sickness, when I thought about her growing up that way. It was that whole squeaky wheel gets the grease thing. Where her brother was the squeaky wheel. There was nothing left for Maggie - no time or energy or grease. It was time she was seen, that her wants were made important, and that someone put her first. That was a role I was happy to step into.

  “Good morning, Beau.”

  “Ah, good morning, darling girl.” Beau patted Maggie's shoulder and looked at her with wonder. She blushed and looked all around the kitchen.

  God damn, she was a sight. She still wore my t-shirt, but she'd rolled the sleeves up to her shoulders, and knotted it at her ribs. She'd pulled those short shorts back on, the ones that cinched up her waist and showed off her figure. Her hair was messy, falling out of a halfhearted ponytail, and she looked more amused than afraid, and I counted that a victory.

  “I'm going to cut right to the chase.” My brother got down right serious with my girl, while I poured the coffee. “First, I'm real happy for you and Cotton. I think you'll be good for each other.”

  He paused. She smiled and ducked her head down. I placed her mug of coffee, cream, sugar, and a spoon in front of her.

  “Is there a second? To follow that first?”

  “Yes, hon.” Beau waited for her to move, to start fixing her coffee. “Second, I don't know how it really is, only how it seems ... it won't be easy to put yourself first. But I think it's time.”

  She was quiet so long, I didn't think she'd answer. Beau waited patiently. I placed English muffins in the toaster to make a quick breakfast, and busied myself finding plates, cream cheese, and bananas.

  “I think so too. That it's time.” She was speaking softly. We stilled to hear her. I sensed a deluge coming. “I don't know how to put myself first. It isn't the way I'm programmed. In my head, I know what I want to do, and I know it's the right thing. When it comes down to it, I revert back to what I've always done.”

  Her eyes flashed to me. She wanted me to help her. I assured as well as I could with my face that I was in it with her and would be right there to remind her that she was important. She was worth standing up for.

  “Good girl.” Beau smirked. She rolled her eyes. “You need anything at all, and we're here for you. The whole lot of us, we're on your side.”

  I watched the pink crawl up her cheeks. She tried to hide behind her coffee mug. Beau gave her a wink before letting himself back outside to sit on the deck. I sighed and placed a plate of food in front of her.

  We ate, and we talked about anything other than her mama or what lay ahead of us. She told me she liked staying with me too much. I told her I'd like it if she made it a habit. Days ago, I was torn up over her. I knew that I was in love with her, but I held myself away from her. I knew that I was bad for her, and she deserved better than me. There we sat, together, after condensed time with each other, and longing for more. What I knew, what I thought I knew, changed. I saw that what she needed was someone to bolster her, to hold her hand and not let go, and to push her to take lead. I could do those things. There would never be a time I wouldn't put Maggie first, and it was the opposite of her whole life experience. She would still try to avoid confrontation, automatically trying to smooth the waters. I would teach her to be a skilled sailor; she couldn't change the water, only what she did with her ship.

  Chapter Twenty-Seven

  Magnolia

  Talking with Beau gave me an ounce of courage. Cotton looking at me like I was strong, and holding my hand like he would never let me go, gave me the rest of what I needed. What they gave me wasn't an easy way out. It wasn't that I gave my power to them or asked them to fight my battles for me. I was stronger for having them in my life.

  Going home, I was nervous. I couldn't be sure what my mama would say or do. I only knew it was time - long past time - to show her that I could stand on my own two feet. I steeled myself, aware that she was skilled at employing tears and twisting facts to be laden with guilt. I steeled myself so that I wouldn't fall prey to her.

  I loved my mama. For all her quirks, I loved her more. Some of the things that drove me crazy were also things that helped make me who I was. Growing up in my house, it wasn't all bad, and I knew that my mama wasn't either. She had done the best she could, and she did want what was best for me. It wasn't fair to think of her as the bad guy, or to think she manipulated me on purpose. She was trapped in a pattern, driven by her own grief and guilt, and I let her have too much control over my life.

  “You got this, Mags.” Cotton whispered in my ear, as he held my hand and stood at my side. A solid thing I could lean on if I needed.

  My head nodded and I sti
ll worked at securing the protection I was building up inside me. The walls I might need to shield myself. I paused at the door, the idea of knocking crossed my mind. Which was odd. It was my house. I lived there, and had always walked right in. Already, I was distancing myself from this part of myself that accepted the role I'd been handed, and I had become a visitor. Definitely time to move out, to find my own place and land on my own two feet. The knob turned, the door unlocked, and I entered my mama's house.

  “Mama!” I called out to her when I didn't find her in the living room.

  “Oh, thank goodness.” She came around the corner from her room, hands clutched at her chest. Her eyes were red rimmed. “Magnolia Jane, don't do that again. You said you'd be home last night. You didn't answer your phone. I've been worried sick.”

  I paled. I had to take time to think. I'd come in ready to defend myself, my walls fortified. But in this, she was right to have been worried. This wasn't her twisting things.

  “I'm so sorry. You're right. It was so late when we left the bonfire.” I looked at Cotton, and his lips held a secret and powerful smile just for me. I stayed strong, even knowing I was in the wrong. “I haven't even looked at my phone. The battery is probably drained.”

  That would explain the lack of contact from Alyssa after she and Jacob didn't show up at the bonfire. Hmm.

  “Can I assume you spent the night with ...” She flicked her hand toward Cotton, standing sentinel at my side. “With this boy? Honestly, Magnolia, what will people think?”

  “They'll think I'm an adult and that I can spend the night with my boyfriend if I want.”

  It was not lost on me that was the first time I'd said that word. Boyfriend. Cotton squeezed my hand. My heart was lifting, choking me with its insistence I pay it due attention.

  “Your boyfriend?” My mama was legitimately shocked. Her face reflected a myriad of worries along with her surprise. “Yesterday he was taking you out, and I was under the impression it was your first date.”

  “Well, yes.” That was true. How could I explain the depth of our feelings? From her perspective Cotton came out of nowhere. “That was the first time we went out, and I know it seems sudden.”

  “Ma'am,” Cotton interrupted. “I wasn't exaggerating when I said I loved Maggie. I've loved her since the first time I stepped in to protect her.” He didn't say Luke's name. Still, it was there, blossoming into a mushroom cloud of poison. I chose to focus on the other L-word, the one that had nothing to do with my brother.

  “I love you, Mama. Don't doubt that.” I reached out my hand, which she took into both of hers. “I am sorry I worried you last night. I'm going to change clothes, then Cotton and I are hiking up to Raven Falls before it gets too hot.”

  “Will you come home after?”

  There was fear in her eyes. She was afraid I'd stay away again, without telling her where I was. It was past time for me to set my own schedule, to live my own life, but I knew her concern was real.

  “If you want me to.” I shrugged, though I was anything but blasé about the exchange. I would come home, but it might not be alone, and I needed to make that clear up front. “Cotton will be with me. Maybe we could have all have dinner together.”

  She dropped my hand, and I watched her throat move as she swallowed. I saw in her face that she knew she'd lose me, she knew if she threw a fit, I wouldn't come home. My mama had gotten up to speed fast, and she knew the way things would be. Perhaps my unintended worry in not showing up was the perfect catalyst to set us on the right path. I didn't like the fear I saw in her, and I'd do better keeping her in the loop. So long as she made an effort as well, to let me live my life, and to accept the changes coming. To her credit, she stood strong, even with the worry trying to bow her shoulders. She rallied, and it relieved some of the pressure that had squeezed my chest, that had been suffocating me for years.

  There was a shift in the way things were with us.

  “That sounds nice.” Her voice was falsely polite. I had to give her credit for trying. “I'll run to the store and get ingredients for lasagna. Yes.”

  “Thank you, Mrs. Porter.”

  My mama gave Cotton a curt nod. She held herself in check, and turned her back to me. She shut herself in her bedroom. I was flooded with relief, but also guilt. She was upset, whether she said so or not. I'd made her worry by not telling her I was staying out all night. I pulled together the pieces of the wall I was building, focused on the effort she was choosing to make in order to let me go. I focused on letting myself go.

  The hike was beautiful. It was a shady trail, which turned the glaring sunlight into streams of gold flickering through the leaves. We stood at the base of the falls and watched the water plummet. Water was a strange entity. I could rake my fingers through with no resistance, splash it and feel an unearned sense of control. Yet it was powerful enough to shape the earth, to carve stone, and to carry me away if I slipped into its hold.

  It wasn't weird being with Cotton. I kept thinking it should be more awkward. Spending so many hours in a row with Cotton should have been too much too soon. I should want to send him home so I could think and shower and be alone. I'd always loved alone time. Instead, I touched him every chance I got. I blatantly stared at him and marveled at how I was not at all tired of him.

  I loved him.

  That had to be it. Love was a strange and powerful thing, and I had been swept up into its hold.

  My mama wasn't home when we got back from the hike. I texted her to let her know we were there. She was at the grocery. I took a shower, hyper aware of being naked while Cotton was in the other room. Smarty-pants brought a change of clothes and showered off the hike in my bathroom. I was equally hyper aware of his being naked, in my shower, right on the other side of the wall. I thought I might combust. He came out smelling like my honey and gardenia shampoo.

  “Hmm. You smell good.”

  “I smell like you.” He didn't sound the least bit put out about it. I got lost in the amused light of his eyes.

  “You smell like me plus you. I like it.” I snuggled in close and breathed him in.

  He held me in his arms, strong and secure. The house was small around us, time ticking the seconds away, counting down until we faced my mama again.

  A thud rattled the back sliding-glass door. I jumped, and Cotton's hands smoothed over my back to calm me. We walked together to the door and looked. A little brown bird was on the concrete pad just outside the door. Tiny and frail, and looking so broken and amiss lying there on the patio.

  “It's a sparrow.” They nested above the light outside the backdoor. The little bird wasn't moving, and looked particularly tiny lying there.

  Cotton pulled me into his chest and turned my head away. He buried me in his strength.

  “I'll go out and check on it.”

  I nodded. I didn't want to see, but I couldn't help looking and hoping it would be okay. That it would fly away after hitting the glass door. We had talked about putting something on that door for years, because this wasn't the first bird to hit the glass.

  “Go grab my water bottle from the truck.”

  “What? Why?” I looked at his stoic face and knew in an instant he was trying to distract me. “That won't work. You're going to move it, then tell me it flew away. You're trying to protect me.”

  “Yes, Maggie.” He pulled me into his hold again; the full severity of his face aimed my way. “I will always try to protect you.”

  “It's too late this time.” I whispered the words that came out, and he leaned in closer to catch them. “I'll know it couldn't be saved, and it's my fault.”

  Cotton's face changed to reflect my own pain. He swiped the tears from my cheeks. I thought he would say, it's just a bird. He would surely think it was silly that I was so sad about the itty-bitty brown bird.

  “Don't blame yourself, Mags. This isn't your fault.”

  “But it is! I should have done something to prevent it from happening. They make stickers you can put
on your windows so the birds can see them better.”

  “I love your heart. You feel so deeply.” He still crushed me to him, and looked at me with such adoration my heart faltered, restarted, then beat stronger than before. “There's no use feeling guilty over something you have no control over. You don't know that stickers would've helped. Accidents happen, sweetheart, and this isn't your fault.”

  “I can't stop it. The guilt.”

  “Yes, you can. I'll help you.”

  I nodded and he pulled my head into his chest. I breathed in his warmth, and I let his hands tell me of his gentle strength. He held me, and I knew then that he wouldn't stop. The worries that he would leave me slipped away. The flimsy attempt I had made at holding back with him crumbled, and I fell instead into trusting him.

  “I've always liked sparrows.” He said, and I listened to his voice as it rumbled through his chest right into my ear. “They're said to symbolize good things coming in small packages, and that the loudest voice isn't always the most powerful.”

  I knew what he was saying to me. I had always been the quietest voice, especially in my own family. I went mostly unheard. Not with Cotton. Not with his brothers. They saw me and heard me, and I didn't need to raise my voice for it to happen.

  “I always heard they represent love and commitment.” I said, my heart swelling and pushing at my ribs.

  “It can be all of those things.” He petted my hair and I sank deeper into his embrace.

  When we turned back to the door, the patio was empty. The little sparrow had flown away on its own. I was flooded with relief. A sound caught between a laugh and a sob left my mouth. Cotton and I shared a secret smile, happy for the bird, but also the wave of assurance that rolled over us.

  “I'm home, kids.”

  My mama voiced her arrival as she came through the door laden with grocery bags. Far more than was necessary for lasagna. Cotton mouthed the word kids, questioning my mama's use of the word. I shrugged and giggled. I knew it meant she was accepting Cotton in my life, or at least making the attempt. It wouldn't be all smooth sailing. There were many old grudges to overcome where the two of them were concerned. My mama and I had our own issues to work through. But she smiled at us, and I saw in her a sense of intense relief when her eyes found me. Although I did feel bad about not coming home the night before, it had shown her that I wasn't always going to do the right thing. Instead of getting mad at me, she gained appreciation for when I did show up and try to be her good girl.