Maggie's Way (Montana Bound Series Book 1)

by Bradley, Linda

  “In the backyard.”

  “What’s he doing back there?” she asked, squinting into the sunlight.

  I shrugged. “Hanging out. Exploring his new home, I suppose.”

  Chloe teetered back and forth. “Man, if I had a new dog, I’d play with him every second. I’d take him for a walk and teach him tricks.” She kicked off her high heels.

  Guilt sizzled in my gut like the Cherry Pop Rocks exploding in Chloe’s mouth as she talked. “Gee, thanks,” I muttered as I put the magazine down on the swing next to me.

  Chloe got up and came toward me. Her face softened.

  “Sorry, Maggie. I didn’t mean to make you feel bad.”

  Her sticky fingers touched mine. She sprinkled a few pieces of candy in the palm of my hand. I popped them into my mouth. The sweetly sour treat crackled on my tongue like firecrackers. I’d forgotten how childhood tasted.

  “I just meant that you are so lucky to have a dog. And I want one soooo bad,” she whined.

  Crap. “It’s okay. So, what’s all the excitement about?” I asked, licking cherry residue off my hand.

  Chloe scratched her head. “Oh, yeah. We just got my mom’s call. She hardly ever calls on account she’s so busy with her career.”

  I pushed my foot against the floor after Chloe settled in next to me on the swing. Her father had been so damn handsome last night standing in my kitchen. I touched my forehead where his lips had been. I could still smell his cologne on my sweater as I drew it tight across my chest wishing for John’s arms around me.

  “You okay?” Chloe said, poking me.

  I focused on the freckles dotting the bridge of her nose. “Yeah,” I replied softly, although I wasn’t sure I was entirely all that okay. “That’s good that your mom called. I know how much you miss her.” I wondered if she was stunning. After all, she was in Hollywood chasing the dream and Chloe really was the spitting image of John.

  “That’s not the half of it. She’s coming here to see me. I can’t wait.” Chloe shook the rest of the candy in her mouth.

  My heart sank, a little bit for Chloe and a lot for me. I stopped the swing with my foot. “Let’s go check on the dog, shall we?” I smiled through clenched teeth.

  The swing bobbed as Chloe jumped off, landing with a thud on the wooden floor of the porch.

  The last bit of sugar dissolved on my tongue as I pushed myself up from the wooden seat.

  “Can I come in with no shoes?” Chloe chortled as she held the door open.

  I didn’t look back to see if her feet were dripping or caked with dirt. I walked ahead. “Sure,” I answered with a smile. “Thanks for asking.”

  We went to the kitchen and sat at the counter.

  Chloe inspected the teacup with the pink ribbons that my mom had sent. I held my breath.

  “What’s this?” Chloe asked, steadying herself as she climbed into the tall chair. “It’s pretty. I like the pink ribbons.”

  I blew out my angst with a sigh. “Me, too.”

  Chloe touched the rim gently.

  I watched her fingertips caress the edge of the cup with tender loving care. Lost in my own thoughts, I almost didn’t hear her words. I tucked my hair behind my ears. This simple gesture made me a better listener. Maybe, that was part of the problem, I just wasn’t listening. I wasn’t listening to Beckett, Mom, or myself. I pulled out the stool next to hers. My sweater fell from my shoulders, stretched out from years of wear, but I refused to give it up. Beckett and Bradley had given it to me on Mother’s Day when Bradley was nine.

  Chloe closed her eyes momentarily before taking a gulp of air. Her stormy eyes illuminated wisdom beyond her years. I didn’t pull my hand away when she held it.

  “I’m sorry,” Chloe said.

  Pretending she didn’t acknowledge my secret, I held her hand. “Sorry for what?”

  “Sorry that you have cancer.”

  My chest rose and fell as I shook my head. “Thanks.” I blinked away the wetness. “How did you know?” I whispered.

  Chloe leaned in my direction and her hair brushed my shoulder. The tips of her fingers on my collarbone felt like butterfly wings.

  “See that dot. I told my dad I thought you had a tumor. You know kids. We notice everything.”

  “Apparently,” I said with a nod.

  “So, I said something to my dad because I know he really likes you, even if you don’t know it. He’s weird that way, always being tough.”

  “And?” I prompted.

  “I told him I saw a dot on your shoulder and on your chest. I begged him to tell me, so don’t get mad at him, you know how I can be.”

  The corner of my mouth lifted. “Yes. I am aware of how persuasive you can be.”

  “Well, he caved. He swore me to secrecy.”

  “Well, that didn’t happen,” I said, not feeling distressed one bit. I caressed Chloe’s hand. “Well, now, that wouldn’t do any of us any good, would it?” I mumbled, trying to hold back the heave of emotion tickling the back of my throat. I crossed my arms, then put my head down on the cool granite top, staring at the china cup that would remind me of the sickness I hated. “It’s okay.”

  Chloe mimicked my actions by crossing her arms and putting her head down, too. We were two sorry souls just staring at a piece of porcelain painted with some pink ribbons. We sighed in unison.

  “Maggie.”

  “What?”

  “Does it hurt?” Chloe asked.

  “No. Not anymore,” I said.

  “Good.”

  I thought about the cane at the clinic with my father’s name on it that I wanted to bring home and would ask for, if it was still there on my last day of radiation. My dad’s spirit filled me up. I felt him stroking my hair, whispering silent words of assurance. You’re a tough girl. It’s not your time. I’ll be with you every step of the way.

  “Maggie,” Chloe mumbled.

  “Yeah.” I moved my head so I could see her better.

  “Are you going to die?”

  “No,” I said without hesitation. The realization that dying could even be a prognosis gave me goose bumps. It took a scrappy seven-year-old to bring the possibility of death to my attention.

  “Good,” Chloe said. “It just wouldn’t be the same without you.”

  “Thanks,” I said, sitting up in my chair.

  Chloe wiggled down from her seat. “I think we should get this pity party outside to see Bones.”

  Chloe stood next to me and her shallow breaths filled the stillness between us. She inspected my bare shoulder then touched the black tattooed dot. “You could turn that into a real tattoo.”

  “Don’t think so, kiddo.”

  “Why not?” she asked.

  “Because—” I stopped myself. People in my family don’t do that sort of thing. “Getting this one really, really hurt.”

  “More than those stitches in your head?” Chloe’s voice squeaked.

  I touched the side of my head carefully. “Yes, way more.”

  “My dad has a tattoo, you know.”

  I did know. I pictured him walking on the beach with the horseshoe tattoo on his left shoulder. A tingle ran across my shoulders and down my spine. I slid my stool back, stood up, and stretched. “Now, shall we see about that dog?”

  Chloe tugged at my hand. “Please don’t tell my dad I told you I know about your cancer. I wasn’t supposed tell you I knew.”

  I pretended to lock my lips.

  “Lock it, zip it, throw away the key,” she sang.

  Chloe’s hand slipped out of mine and decided to ditch my sweater. I winced as the door banged against the wall in Chloe’s excitement to get outside. With the screeching sounds of a seven-year-old tainting the air, I hurried outside to find Chloe in my lounging chair with Bones who lowered his head as if trying to hide his guilt. My heart sank as I scurried over to my tomato garden. “You are a bad dog, a very, very bad dog,” I huffed as I surveyed the damage. I began picking up green tomatoes, ripe t
omatoes, big tomatoes, all the ruined tomatoes that littered the ground. I sneered at Bones. “Bad dog, bad, bad, dog,” I hissed, glaring at Chloe, who was covering his ears.

  “They’ll grow back,” Chloe shouted in my direction.

  “No they won’t. He ruined my garden.” I held up a red ripe tomato, bigger than one regulation-sized softball. “And he took bites out of most of them,” I huffed. “Stupid dog.” I shook the ruined tomato in their direction.

  Chloe sauntered over. “You still got some green stuff left and maybe some berries.”

  Bones followed in her footsteps.

  I stacked the tomatoes in a neat pile at the edge of the garden, my garden, my ruined garden.

  Chloe crossed her arms over her chest. “I’d say you handled that whole cancer thing a lot better than this.”

  I narrowed my gaze even more in her direction.

  “Just sayin’,” she added.

  “Crap. Crap. Crap,” I muttered.

  “Maggie—”

  “I don’t care. Crap,” I huffed as I kneeled next to broken stalks.

  Bones hopped in my lap. His tail wagged so hard his hindquarters swayed from side to side. I stared into his dark-brown eyes. He cocked his head briefly before licking my ear. I wiggled as his slobbery tongue lapped at the side of my face.

  Chloe snickered. “You are so lucky,” she rambled.

  “Uh-huh,” I grunted, swatting at Bones’ rear-end as he trotted away.

  “I’ll help you clean up. Maybe, that will make it better,” Chloe suggested.

  “Doubt it.” My body drooped. Something welled inside me. The rush of self-pity gnawed in my gut. I pushed back the tears. “Maybe you should head home,” I suggested. “Maybe Nora is looking for you.”

  “Fat chance, sister. She quit, remember?” Chloe snickered.

  “Oh yeah, I forgot.” I swiped at my eyes trying to conceal my emotions. I jumped when I heard John’s booming voice.

  “What the heck happened back here?” he asked as he latched the gate behind him. “Chloe?”

  “No, Bones,” I interrupted, clapping at the dog digging in the flowerbed. I watched as Chloe calmly approached the beast.

  She snapped her fingers. “Come on, Bones,” she commanded.

  Bones focused on her tone. Chloe motioned for him to follow her to the patio. “Stay.” She pointed to a spot next to the lounge chair. Bones sat. “Down.” She knelt beside him and patted the ground. When he settled, she scratched his head. “Good dog,” she praised.

  “Impressive,” I said. “Obviously, I don’t have that talent.”

  John smiled. “Dog whisperer,” he joked. “She wants a dog so bad.”

  “You can have Bones,” I suggested.

  “Nope,” John said firmly. “Taking care of Chloe is more work than you know.”

  I challenged his words in my stare.

  “On second thought, maybe you do know.”

  John held out his hand. I grabbed hold as he pulled me up from the littered ground. He squeezed it tight. His green eyes gleamed as they connected with my stare. I glanced toward Chloe then back to John. As much as I wanted to hang on to him, I let go. Nothing good could come from leading him on. It wouldn’t be fair to Chloe. I’d seen it all too many times across the conference table on the faces of divorced parents trying out new partners like it was no big deal. “Thanks. Any leads on a nanny?”

  “I have a call into an agency. I’ll have to warn the next one about you,” he jested.

  “Ha, ha.” Could he have really liked Nora? Doubt it. No one did. “Chloe’s better off without Nora.” John narrowed his eyes in my direction. “Oh, come on.”

  He shrugged.

  I huffed. “Please.” John stuffed his hands into the pockets of his blue jeans that hugged his muscular thighs. I noticed his crisp white T-shirt. “No suit today?”

  “Got home early. Had to get the munchkin from her friend’s house. No thanks to you.”

  His words didn’t match the glint in his eye. I’d seen that look in Chloe’s eyes earlier. Their similar spark for life glowed like mossy embers. Damn, he was handsome. And he wanted to kiss me. “Give it up, doctor,” I said. “You couldn’t stand Nanny Nora either. I did you a favor.”

  John stepped closer. The scent of his cologne tickled my nose. I brushed aside the attraction. No one would come out a winner. I glanced over to Chloe, who had Bones rolling over on command.

  “Maybe you did, Maggie Abernathy, just maybe you did,” John replied.

  Chapter 16

  Mom didn’t pick up so I left her a message on voicemail, again. This was the third time I had called in three days. Maybe she had disowned me as her daughter. Had I really been that rotten? Probably. I hadn’t been truly rotten since I was sixteen and snuck out of the house. If I wouldn’t have backed into a stupid pole and put a dent in her convertible, she would have never known.

  With my back against the refrigerator, I slid down to sit on the floor. I shook away the possibility that I could have offended her that much. She was up to something. My intuition pinched. Bones sat next to me. Between the hot flashes and the humidity, I wanted to be down there rolling around with him on the cool white tile.

  I scratched at my armpit. The persistent, nagging itch consumed me. My red skin bothered me constantly. I dragged my purse down from the counter. I bit my lip, trying to ignore the annoying sensation. I dug into the outside pocket for the lotion that Bobbi gave me today after the last session.

  I unscrewed the cap. It flipped out of my hand and landed next to Bones. He picked up the tube in his teeth and showed it to me. “Fine. Keep your new toy.” I got up and raised my eyebrow in his direction. The sound of plastic echoed behind me as I walked away. His nails clicked against the hard floor. Bones brushed up against my ankle as he trotted alongside me. His pink tongue waggled as he ran ahead, down the hallway, and stopped at the library.

  “You’re a pill,” I said, reaching down to pat his head.

  He jumped on me, knocking me backward. My bottom hit the slate floor in the foyer with a thud. Bones grunted at me then licked my nose after sniffing the stitches on my head. The cold stone in the entryway felt more refreshing than the kitchen tile. I cinched up my skirt and pressed my legs against the earthy rock. Bones crawled into my arms. He sniffed my left breast where I had had the lumpectomy. He poked his wet snout under the edge of my T-shirt and his wet tongue licked the red rectangle on my chest. He sniffed at my other breast then licked my collarbone above my glowing skin. I held him close, appreciating his company. “Thanks, friend,” I whispered in his ear.

  Bones gazed into my eyes.

  His tail wagged to and fro with contentment.

  “Don’t get too excited, friend, I’m still not happy about my garden.”

  Bones groaned and gave a little woof.

  “Hey, regardless, you shouldn’t have done it.”

  Bones lowered his head, sniffed the floor, then looked back up. His pitiful wrinkly forehead twitched.

  “Nice try.”

  Bones nudged my shoulder. Then licked my face, again.

  “Enough of this gushy stuff, I have work to do.”

  Bones stood on my left thigh anchoring me to the floor. His piercing bark hurt my ears.

  “What?” I moaned. This dog stuff was a lot of work. It was worse than having a baby. “What now? I just fed you.”

  Bones ran into the kitchen.

  I got up and veered into the library. As I walked past the hall tree in the corner, I reached for my ratty sweater. Who was I kidding? It was my security blanket. I touched the frayed cotton on the cardigan’s hem. It held momentous memories. Memories I wrapped around me each day like a shroud, trying to keep myself alive. Linus had his blanket. I had my sweater. Pitiful. I left the sweater on the hook choosing to harbor the memories in my heart, not around my shoulders in an old sweater that weighed me down. Pressure built behind my eyes. How did I get this way? Control freak.

  W
ith a deep breath, I straightened my shoulders.

  I logged on to my computer and played Adele. Her voice pacified me as I contemplated which photo to color next. I stroked each one like a lover. I peeked under the eight-by-ten of my tomato garden photo prior to Bones’ invasion. It was side-by-side to another eight-by-ten of a photo I snapped after Chloe and John left that day. Bones sat next to a heaping pile of tomatoes in front of a plot of naked tomato plants. I tugged at the corner of the hidden photo. I hadn’t considered myself a stalker, but maybe the police would think otherwise. I pulled at the corner of the black-and-white photo a bit more. John’s feet peeked out at me as he walked in the sand. I yanked at it a little bit more. I reasoned with myself. It’s a public beach. I took photos of Chloe. I could explain this if I had to. I tugged until it was in full view.

  Matter of fact, it was the perfect composition. His Hawaiian print board shorts hung from his narrow hips. His muscles were toned, probably from lifting Chloe up all the time, and that horseshoe tattoo begged for my attention. I ran my fingers over it. My eyes lingered like a girl with an obsessive crush. “This is so silly.” I ran my fingers through my hair. “You can’t even think about that. He’s your neighbor. He’s Chloe’s dad.”

  Adele’s voice chimed in the background. I mouthed the words to her latest tune as I touched the tattoo on his shoulder. “Why are you so damn intriguing?” I carefully put the picture back beneath a photograph of his daughter then picked up the photo of Bones in all his glory next to his pile of fallen tomatoes. I rearranged my paints just as he dropped the leash at my feet. “You’re going to have to wait a few minutes.”

  Bones barked.

  “Lie down,” I said with conviction.

  Bones tested my stare with a playful growl.

  “I said in a few minutes.”

  Bones left the leash on the floor, waddled over to the corner, rearranged his bed, and plopped down with a sigh.

  I silenced my phone and got to work. I splashed muted colors onto the photos. The muddy hues reminded me of the twenties. The images seemed to levitate from the paper. Once intently focused, the image of John quit nagging at me, but the photo of him in his swim trunks soon found its way back out from underneath the pile. I moved Bones’ photo aside then started carefully painting in John’s Hawaiian trunks. The blurry background brought mystery to the composition. He held Chloe’s hand as she looked up into his eyes probably asking him why I was so sad. The flush of embarrassment warmed my cheeks. I wiped at my brow thinking that my stitches were due to come out.