Chloe raised her hand. “I happened. We bumped heads. She got stitches, I didn’t,” she mumbled, trying to hold juice in her mouth and talk at the same time.
Mom slurped her coffee.
I ignored the smirk on her face as I rewound the conversation in my head. Words were pinging from person to person. My eyes went from Beckett to John. A bolt of guilt jarred me for misjudging Beckett and Paul’s relationship earlier. I watched the men interact.
“Chloe, you come home after you eat.” John’s voice was stern. “Nora is cleaning. She’s going to take you to the park today.”
Chloe frowned. “I’d rather stay here. Glad is way more fun and Maggie will come around.”
Waves of heat washed over my body and I rolled my eyes.
“That’s not nice,” Chloe said. “I’m not allowed to roll my eyes at home or at school.”
My mother grinned as she raised her mug to her lips. She slurped her coffee again. I watched her gaze move from Beckett, to Paul, to John, and then to me. The twinkle in her eyes scared me as she scanned the table of misfits. I was getting the feeling that she and Chloe had a lot in common.
Chloe pulled Voodoo up by his string, patted his nubby fur, then moved his head all around her plate. “He likes to eat the crumbs.” She grabbed his limp, matted purple paw and made him rub his stomach.
Chapter 9
After breakfast, Beckett followed me into the library.
“You can take the rug. I don’t want it. It doesn’t go with my teacups.” I crossed my arms then glanced at his journal tucked away on the shelf.
“Are you sure?” he questioned. “You picked it out.”
“I picked it out for you.” I could feel my tongue sharpen and I leaned against the windowsill where my new drafting table would go. The light was perfect for shading in my photographs. “Why didn’t you just say something earlier? You could have saved us a lot of time.” I wanted to hear the words, not read them.
Beckett rubbed his temples. “I just—”
I waited.
I waited some more.
I slid my back down the wall and sat on the floor, eyeballing him.
He kneeled in front of me. “I just didn’t have the courage. I couldn’t leave you and Bradley.”
Sadness rimmed his eyes. I wouldn’t let myself cry in front of him, so I blinked away the wetness. I pushed at his hands when he tried to comfort me. I knew he needed consoling as much as I did, but I couldn’t let him touch me. “I’m sorry this happened,” I whispered. “Out of all our friends, I thought we were the couple that would last forever.”
Beckett stood then left of the room.
I lagged behind him.
He paced back and forth in the great room.
“You can take the plants in here. I don’t want them either.”
“I thought you liked them,” he said.
“I’m tired of taking care of them.” I picked at my thumbnail. “I told you that because I knew you liked them. I said lots of things I thought you wanted to hear, needed to hear.” My voice trailed off. “I thought it was called compromising.”
He came closer. “What?”
The longer I stared at him, the more he felt like a stranger. I didn’t know him anymore. I doubted I knew myself. “It’s what wives do, right?”
Beckett took a deep breath. He ran his hands through his salt-and-pepper hair. “What?” he asked, raising his voice. “I’m trying to make this as easy as possible and now, you’re going to be a bitch.” He rubbed his chin and glared at me with a raging stare. “Not once, did I ever say that to you, and do you know why?” He sucked in a pocket of air. “Because you were never one to balk, you were never difficult. What the hell?”
I moved away. Beckett’s rare display of anger scared me. His seething tone sent chills up my spine.
“If you weren’t happy, you should have said something,” he muttered, walking away from me. “I’m not the only one that could have saved us some time.”
“I thought I was happy, Beckett. I thought we had everything,” I retorted. “You’re the one who changed everything. I would have stayed with you forever. Regardless.”
Beckett plopped down on the sofa with a thud. “I didn’t want to. I had to. The truth was killing me. It was killing you. Didn’t you feel it?”
I felt my eyes narrow as I fumed. “No, I didn’t.” I wanted to hear him say it was his fault again. I wanted to make my burden less cumbersome. We rarely fought when we were married and now there were no consequences for not getting along. I pulled my wedding band from my pocket and put it on the mantle. It was going to take more than a hefty gulp of air to control myself.
“Damn it, Maggie, I couldn’t live with myself if I robbed you of the rest of your life.”
Beckett got up, came over to me, then put his arm around my shoulder. “I’m sorry, Maggie. I want to make this up to you.”
Tears brimmed. “You hired Paul and the lawn service, which I’d like you to cancel. Let’s call it even. I’m not sure there is anything else you could possibly do. I think you’ve done enough.”
Beckett lowered his gaze to mask his own tears. He never could hide his sensitivity.
“You can’t change who you are. All I ever wanted was you,” I whimpered.
“Oh, Maggie.” He sighed. “I’ll always be here for you.”
“I know, but it will never be the same.” My throat constricted as my heart withered.
“Bradley’s grown. It’s time for us to move on. Can’t you see it? We’ll all be fine.”
“Will we?” I snickered, wiping away the stream of tears with the back of my hand. “Just tell me, tell me one thing. Did you ever cheat? What is Paul Mitchell to you?” I wished I could take back the words the minute I said them. I knew Paul and Beckett were only acquaintances.
Beckett fingers slid down my arm, his eyes like tiny slits. “Paul and I met for the first time today. Lois gave me his number and he seemed nice on the phone,” he said, catching his breath. “Maggie, I couldn’t even admit to myself what was happening. I stayed with you the whole time knowing I’d made a commitment, to you, to Bradley. Never, ever did I cheat,” he whispered earnestly.
A spasm bolted through my chest as if I were feeling his pain. I’d caused the hurt in his voice. “Damn it, Beckett.”
“What? Would you feel better if I had gone behind your back, made this ugly? I had a family to consider. Believe it or not, I loved you every minute. I still do.” His voice trailed off into the electric air between us. “We never fought about this before. Why now?”
“It would make it a whole lot easier to hate you because hating is what happens when couple’s split. They don’t get along. They fight over things. They make the other person feel tiny. And you have done none of those things,” I cried. “You are such a saint.”
“Maggie, I could never hurt you that way.”
“Damn it, Beckett, will you just stop it?” I shouted. “You’re helping with everything. How am I ever going to learn to live alone if you’re always taking care of me? Just because you feel bad about leaving me doesn’t mean you can smother me with kindness.” The words rolled off my tongue with ease. By the look in his eyes, I knew his hurt matched mine. Now, we were even.
“I’d better go. We’ll talk later,” Beckett said.
I slid the ponytail holder out of my hair then gingerly shook out my tresses trying to ease the tension without making the gash throb. “Maybe that’s a good idea.” I touched the stitches in my left temple making sure I hadn’t opened the wound. The stiff edges of the string poked my fingertips like miniature barbs.
I leaned against the doorjamb. What had I done? My sharp words had wounded Beckett. My heart sank as he loaded his rug into the car and drove away without waving goodbye. He always waved goodbye, tradition. “Damn it.” I pulled my hair back, combed it with my fingers, then secured it with my ponytail holder before turning my attention to the soft footsteps approaching.
; “You really shouldn’t swear, even if you’re mad at someone,” Chloe said.
I crossed my arms. Her twang of sincerity warmed me. “I know.”
“What did he do that was so bad?” Chloe picked up Voodoo. “I still love Voodoo when he does bad things. I know my dad still loves me even when I don’t do my chores, trick Nanny Nora, or even break things. Did Beckett break something?”
I sighed. “Yeah, Beckett broke something.” My sarcasm tasted sour. I swallowed away the lump in my throat.
“You could glue it or get a repairman.”
Chloe handed me Voodoo. He had crumbs in his purple fur and a black smudge around his only eye.
“What happened here?” I asked, pointing to the dark circle.
“He ran into Nanny Nora and got a black eye. Dad wrote him a scription for pain.”
I smiled. “You mean prescription?” I handed Voodoo back to her.
Chloe scrunched up her nose. “That’s what I said, scription.” She cuddled Voodoo and kissed his nose then dropped him on the floor. “You really should try not to practice those teacher habits on summer vacation.” She put Voodoo’s leash around her wrist.
As Chloe stared hard into my face, I knew I had rolled my eyes. “I know, I know. It’s a bad habit.”
“We all have our vices,” Chloe stated with conviction.
I raised my eyebrow in her direction wondering whom she learned that phrase from. I pushed myself away from the doorway. “Let’s go see what the others are doing.”
Chloe stopped me, her green eyes churning with wisdom. “My dad says you should forgive people.”
Her fingers grazed my arms. Her warm touch surprised me, her gentleness alarming. The seven-year-old was right, but I wasn’t ready to forgive Beckett, or myself.
“I’m trying to forgive my mom for leaving us. It’s really hard,” she whispered as she pulled her hand away.
A shadow drifted over Chloe’s stare, and my heart wilted. This time I kept my thoughts to myself. Shit. This was going to be a love-hate relationship. I followed in her footsteps as she headed for the kitchen. She stopped abruptly, and I bumped into her. Her belch belonged to a drunk, not a young girl.
I cringed, thinking about Bradley, who would have laughed his head off. I patted Chloe’s head. Her hair was soft and wispy.
“Excuse me,” she chimed. Pride laced her squeaky voice. “Thanks for not telling me to say that. A pat on the head works just fine and it’s a lot less nagging.”
I nudged her out of my way as we stepped into the kitchen. Mom was standing at the sink washing dishes.
“I have a dishwasher, you know. You don’t have to do that,” I said, wishing her habits were more similar to mine. My heart skipped a beat when I realized she’d overheard my conversation with Beckett and Chloe.
Mom turned her attention back to scrubbing the bacon pan. “Chloe’s right. Forgiveness goes a long way.”
I sat on a stool at the counter and folded the napkins trying to make the corners even. I like even. I liked uniform. I liked being married even if I realized we were growing apart, but we really weren’t growing apart. Beckett was finding his way and I was in denial.
Chloe pulled out the stool next to mine. I felt pint-sized and young in her company. She patted the top of my head gently like Beckett did at breakfast.
“Just a reminder,” she said with her jack-o-lantern smile. “Glad, can we have dessert?”
“Oh, that sounds good. Something chocolate?” I suggested, thinking about the leftover cake in the refrigerator. Chloe’s hopeful eyes glistened as she smacked her lips and rubbed her tummy.
Mom turned toward us. “It’s too early. Chloe, your dad will have a fit,” she said.
Chloe and I frowned at each other.
“I won’t tell,” she whined. “I promise. I promise, hope to die, stick a needle in my eye.” She made the sign of the cross on her chest. “Pinky swear,” she blurted out as she made a fist and stuck out her pinky in my direction.
I hooked my pinky finger with hers. Her wet finger made me flinch. “Gross.” I sighed and I wiped off my hand on my sundress.
“It’s nothing gross.”
Mom laughed. “No dessert, you two. Now get out of here so I can finish the dishes.”
I raised my eyebrows at Chloe.
Chloe’s green eyes held my stare. “We should go. She’ll make us do the dishes if we bug her.”
After standing up, I scooted my seat underneath the counter. “You’re right. Let’s get out of here.” I wondered where Paul went. Chloe fell from her chair. She rubbed her head then peered up at me with deer in the headlight eyes. I waited for the wailing to begin.
Chloe popped up, shook her body like a rag doll, and smiled. “Don’t worry, I’ll be fine.”
“Good. Now where did Paul go?” I asked.
“He left, darling.” Mom carefully washed the delicate juice glasses I inherited from my grandmother.
I was a bad hostess. Mom cooked and cleaned while I skulked around bickering with Beckett. Guilt taunted me like a pesky child pulling at my shirttail. Today, I hurt Beckett, I ignored Paul, and all he was doing was trying to help, but seeing them instantly connect had bothered me. Beckett and I hadn’t had that connection in years. Paul secretly understood Beckett. I saw it in his eyes. “I just want to understand,” I muttered, deciding what to plant next in the backyard. Jealousy rattled my nerves.
Chapter 10
I beeped myself into the radiation center with my plastic card bearing a barcode especially designated for me. “Too bad this isn’t a prepaid Visa,” I joked to myself. I had been reduced to a bar code like a can of soup, a candy bar, a box of Cheerios, something to be swiped, and sent down the conveyor belt to the next station.
The vacant office reminded me it was dumb to take the last appointment of the day. Today was my first treatment and I still hadn’t shared my diagnosis with anyone.
The impromptu breakfast party, then the confrontation with Beckett had left me spent. This seemed like the easiest of the three scenarios. All I had to do was lay there. The glass window to the receptionist’s desk was open, but Debbie wasn’t waiting with a smile today. Debbie was blond, caring, perky, and young, all the ingredients for a much-needed cocktail.
I slipped my identification card back into my bag with the baby powder I used twice a day to reduce the redness, the burn, and the irritation from the treatment. Seriously, it was as simplistic as baby powder. It really wasn’t, but I was warned not to use lotions because it could cause far worse consequences. The machine would radiate my left breast, leaving me burned and internally scarred over time, but in the long run, probably save my life. I smiled at my own cliché. It felt as if I was robbing Peter to pay Paul. Let’s get this over with, I told myself.
Promptly after changing into my drab blue hospital gown, I was escorted to the radiation room. The narrow table felt cold and hard. Goosebumps covered my arms. The red stream of bright light on the ceiling caught my attention.
“Here we go, Maggie,” Rita said.
Her eyes were kind and offered strength, and I found her smile infectious. “Here we go,” I mumbled, careful not to move.
Rita guided my arm into the cradle above my head then exposed my body to the chilly room. She bound my feet with a fat rubber band. I tucked my arm under my side just like we practiced. Being in the exact spot was crucial.
“Today the treatment will be quite short. Over time, the increments of exposure will increase and by next Friday, we will be ready to take the first set of x-rays,” Rita instructed. “Bobbi is here to help.”
Bobbi leaned over. “You won’t be here long,” she reassured me.
I carefully moved my eyes from Rita to Bobbi not wanting to contaminate my position. I forced myself to be strong and swallow away the bitter taste at the back of my throat. I smiled, trying to emulate Rita and Bobbi’s positive energy.
“You okay?” Rita asked, touching my shoulder.
�
��Sure,” I answered, knowing she saw my angst clearly.
I saw them leave and the thick door shut as I stared at the reflection of the cold room in the plastic ceiling tiles. The shadows and the whirr of the machine were my only companions. Beckoning energy from the heavens, I stared at the decorative ceiling as the red light cut through the silence like a laser beam. Chills crept through my body.
The machine buzzed.
Clicked.
I swallowed, breathing cautiously not to disturb my position.
The machine rotated.
I noted the shadows on the ceiling, remembering the shapes so as to remember them for the future, making them my timetable, knowing when the session would end. Light from the hallway streamed into the dark room as the heavy door opened. I breathed in a sense of relief. Heavenly. Rita and Bobbi rejoined my little party, undid my feet, and set me free.
“Um, we have a silly question,” Rita said.
“Go ahead, it can’t be weirder than anything else I’ve heard today.” I grabbed Bobbi’s arm for support as I sat up and watched Rita shrug away doubt.
“You don’t walk with a cane, do you?” she asked, shaking her head. “You know, like a walking cane?”
“No, why?”
She shook her head. “This is so strange. You were the last one to check yourself in and no one else has been here. You sure, you didn’t bring a cane today?”
“Nope,” I replied, swinging my legs off the table, eager to leave. I stopped when my spine tingled. “Why?”
“You know we check the waiting room regularly. We checked the patient names with the doctors.”
“I knew she didn’t have a cane,” Bobbi interjected.
Rita glanced over to Bobbi then back to me. “Weird,” she said.
I shrugged then left to get dressed. I had no clue what their cryptic dialogue meant.
Debbie smiled at me as I walked past her desk on the way out. She held up the cane. “Sure you didn’t have a cane?”
I stopped. “Nope.”
She put the cane on the counter between us. It rolled to one side. My insides turned over as I touched the name etched into the black paint. Walter James.
Maggie's Way (Montana Bound Series Book 1) Page 7
