“Not sure. Must be something inside that governs our actions. Human beings are strange creatures,” I said.
“They’re not so strange. They are creatures of habit. People are driven by emotion.” Paul ran his hand across the mantle shelf.
“I suppose so, but what makes emotion live, breathe, drive us to rule our actions?”
“Desire.”
I sat in the middle of the room with my legs crossed like the children at school when they listen to a story on the carpet. I stared up at the exposed beams imagining myself in a cathedral. The sun flickered in the empty space as it bounced off the trees outside. Paul scuffled across the floor to where I sat. He sat down behind me mirroring my pose with his warm back pressed against mine.
“Maggie, what do you desire?” Paul asked.
“I’m not sure,” I answered, not minding that our conversation drifted into the personal lane.
“Everyone wants something. What do you want?” he persisted.
“I used to think I wanted Beckett back. I’m not sure why, but I don’t anymore.” I picked at my thumb.
“That’s probably good,” Paul said.
“Definitely good. This is a pretty deep conversation. Am I getting charged extra for this?”
“No. You’re easy to talk to,” Paul said.
I chuckled, knowing I had been anything but easy lately.
“Beckett’s a good man,” Paul stated.
“Fine, take his side,” I scoffed.
“I’m not taking sides. He talks about you a lot.”
My heart hurt, the edges pinched. I stretched my legs out trying to get comfortable with yet another turn in the conversation. I sat silent.
“Maggie, he’s really a good guy.”
I inhaled deeply, taking in Paul’s words. I knew he was right, but part of me still wanted to be mad at Beckett. I touched the scar on the side of my head and cleared my throat. “I know. And I know it wasn’t all him. There, I said it. Did my mother tell you to come over and get me to confess?”
“No, I didn’t, young lady,” my mother’s voice boomed. “But it’s about time.”
I glared at her. “What is it with people around here? You just come in. Is Chloe teaching you how to sneak in without making a sound?”
“Now, now, don’t be mad at her. She’s just a little girl going through more than you think. We all have our burdens. Don’t take yours out on her.”
Paul stood up, walked around, and offered me a hand. “She’s right, you know. Don’t take it out on someone littler than you.”
“Fine, gang up on me.” Paul and my mom shared a smile.
Paul put his hand on my shoulder. “Painters, tomorrow.”
I smiled. “Radiation, tomorrow. Week four. Can’t wait for the painters. Can they go to radiation for me and I’ll stay here and paint?”
“Nice try,” Paul said, squeezing my shoulder.
“I have twenty-five hats made and counting,” Mom sang as she strolled toward the library.
“She’s making hats for the babies at the hospital. Noble woman, there.”
“Noble woman, here,” Paul said, giving me a wink.
“Not sure about that, I peeked inside the diary of a seven-year-old.”
Paul came closer.
“Like I said before, a very short read.”
He smiled. “That’s okay. Let me know when you change your mind about more furniture.” He meandered toward the front door.
“I told you, I’m not changing my mind. And don’t forget your coffee. You left it on the kitchen table.” I sat back down in the middle of the empty room to imagine the future. I touched the back of my hand where Paul had touched it earlier. I wasn’t accustomed to having others touch me unless they were students in my class. And in that case, seven-and eight-year-olds who gave hugs unconditionally. I thought hard. I remembered a time when Beckett’s touch moved me. With a heavy sigh, I realized my time with him seemed like a blur. How could he have kept such a big secret? An unimaginable secret? Beckett was my best friend. My enabler. I sat in the quiet room assessing my part of the relationship. Time had shackled us. We’d spent so much of it appeasing the other, avoiding conflict. I’d spent so much energy trying to accomplish a higher degree, a more prestigious job, that I lost sight of me, trying to impress him for the wrong reasons.
I thought about the interview for the position as principal and bam, for the first time I didn’t fume with disappointment over the whole situation. Jenny McBride could have the position as principal. It didn’t matter anymore. I’d finish out my years teaching then retire, to a different life, a less-taxing life. One without phone calls to upset parents, one that didn’t require evaluations because I’d judge my own success, one without report cards, and one where I could enjoy Sunday nights and not detest Monday mornings because beginnings were meant to excite us.
“Maggie, you gonna stay in there all day?”
“Maybe,” I called to my mother.
I took one last look around. New paint would cover faded walls. A new sofa would be my haven for reading books by firelight, while Bones rested by my side. I put my face into the sun as it streamed through the window then pushed myself to get up and move.
Mom was in the kitchen assessing the contents of my refrigerator. “Glad to see you’re eating. I want you healthy. Are you sleeping enough?” She asked, tapping her fingers on the steely door. “When my friend, Jan, went through this, it knocked her off her feet.”
“How old was she?”
“About sixty, I guess. Do you want anything at the store?”
“No. Did she live?” I asked.
Mom shut the refrigerator then walked over to where I stood leaning against the doorjamb to the hallway leading to the front foyer.
“I mean, everyone keeps saying, you’re going to be fine. How do they know? Truth is, nobody knows.”
“Would you rather they say, ‘It must suck to be you. What are your chances of surviving?’”
“Nice.” But she was right. “I know it’s good to be around positive energy.” I wasn’t so sure it was good to be around myself. “What’s on your agenda today?”
“You,” she replied.
“Me?”
“Yeah, you. Thought you could use a day out. We’re going to the beach. We’re meeting Chloe and Brook there for lunch.”
“What?” I didn’t want to face Chloe. I didn’t want to spend time with Brook. Perfection had its boundaries and that boundary was the edge of John’s driveway that touched my front lawn. What could Brook and I possibly have in common?
“It’ll be fun. You don’t have to be in the sun. I know the rules.”
I laughed at her. “What’s in it for me? I don’t want to go. I really don’t want to go,” I whined. Shit. Double Shit. What could she possibly be thinking? “I think I have plans.”
“No you don’t. You haven’t had plans all summer except to lie around this place and feel sorry for yourself. We’ll go to the park. The fresh air will do you good. Then I’ll take you to radiation.”
“I don’t need fresh air. I just need to read my novel in peace and quiet.” I held up my new novel by Tracy Chevalier.
Bones barked.
I shushed him.
He barked louder and spun in a circle.
“Shhh.”
“That’s like telling a crack addict to put the crack down. You’re just taunting him. Put the book down. He thinks it’s a toy.”
I put the book back on the counter.
Bones sat at my feet glaring up at me. He yawned then tugged at the hem of my skirt. “Oh, for crying out loud.” I pulled my skirt free. “Bad dog.”
“Quit telling him he’s a bad dog. He’s not a bad dog. You wouldn’t tell Bradley or any other child they were bad.” Mom stopped talking then whistled and clapped her hands. Bones rushed to her side. Mom got down on all fours to rub his belly when he rolled over.
“I still don’t want to go.” I crossed my arms. “
And you can’t make me.”
She narrowed her gaze at me.
“What are you, seven?”
“You don’t understand.”
“Maybe not, but it’s already set. Don’t be rude. Boy, are you a moody Judy. It just might be fun.”
“No,” I said.
“Yes,” she retorted.
I stood silently, turned on my heels, and walked away. I couldn’t possibly face Chloe and Brook. Chloe had seen me kiss her father. Brook was no doubt on the receiving end of that trauma. I went into my library and shut the doors. Maybe Mom’ll leave if I ignore her. I shook my head at my poor behavior. “I am a bad daughter,” I mumbled to myself. I turned on the music and sat at my desk trying to finish painting another photo. The muted colors drew me in. The photo of John and Chloe walking down the beach caught my attention. I didn’t need to be the third wheel. John needed to be there for his daughter. I scolded myself for getting in the middle.
“How could you be so dumb?” I chided. Chloe peered through the French doors. She held up her diary. I swallowed hard. I should have returned it as soon as Bones dropped it in my lap. She opened the door. She tugged. The doors always stuck in the summer. They jerked open and she screamed bloody murder.
I jumped out of my seat.
She held her big toe.
There was blood on my floor and on her hands.
Maybe I wouldn’t have to go to lunch after all. Maybe she was destined to spend the afternoon with some handsome doctor at the emergency room. Surely, her mother’s beauty would get her some extra attention.
“Let me see,” I prodded, as she howled louder when I inspected her foot.
Mom came running from the kitchen.
“What did you do to her?” she asked.
“I didn’t do anything!” I snapped. “She opened the door and it caught her toe.” I stood and rushed to the kitchen to get a towel to catch the blood that was dripping on my slate floor. Thank God, I didn’t let Beckett get the white carpet he wanted. The slate foyer was the tradeoff for the tile he’d insisted on in the kitchen.
“Now, now, let me see what this is all about,” Mom whispered.
Chloe’s face was wet with tears, and her hair stuck to her cheeks that were streaked with dirt.
“Where did you get this dirt on your face?” I asked.
My mom shot me a look.
I reciprocated the gesture. “Where have you been, Chloe?”
My gut wrenched as she held up her journal.
“How did you get my journal?” she asked.
“Bones had it. See the teeth marks?” I replied, pointing to the marred purple cover.
“You read it, I know you did.” Chloe’s voice quivered.
Mom’s eyes silently scorned me.
“I promise I did not look inside,” I lied. I hated myself, but I wanted her to believe me and forgive me.
“The tape is broken. The tape wouldn’t be broken if you didn’t open it,” she wailed, picking off tiny bits of transparent sticky residue.
“Now, now,” my mother said, rubbing Chloe’s back, trying to sooth her. Mom shot me a shamed look.
“Bones had it in his mouth.” When he brought it to me last night, I didn’t remember seeing the tape. I glanced into Chloe’s eyes trying to capture her complete attention, put her in a trance, and make her quit crying. “He slobbered all over it. I cleaned it up.”
“I don’t believe you,” she whimpered.
“Why wouldn’t you believe her?” my mom asked, prying Chloe’s hand off her foot trying to get a better look at her toe.
Chloe shrugged.
I prayed she’d keep her mouth shut about what she saw last night, but I knew she had no allegiance to me. I was just the kooky neighbor lady that she spied on, took advantage of, and spent much of her time shadowing.
Mom dabbed at Chloe’s foot. “This doesn’t seem that bad. I think you’ll be fine with a few bandages.”
Chloe cringed as she examined the gash herself. Her forehead touched my mother’s, two manipulators sending messages through osmosis.
I rolled my eyes at the drama.
Both my mom and Chloe responded in unison. “You shouldn’t do that.”
“I thought my dad talked to you about that bad habit last night,” Chloe reiterated.
My palms started to sweat. Sweet Jesus. The last thing I needed was an inquisition from my mother. I stared hard at Chloe. The glint in her eyes told me game on. I knew the look. I knew the game. I wasn’t accustomed to losing.
“Maggie, go get a bandage and a pair of scissors.”
“Scissors?” Chloe squealed.
“To cut the bandage so it will stay on your toe,” I grunted.
“Oh,” she said, sucking in air trying to catch her breath.
Afraid to leave Chloe alone with my mom, I put up my finger in front of her face. “I will be right back. You stay put.” I ran to the bathroom, grabbed the whole box of bandages, and a pair of children’s scissors with red handles. When I got back, the two were huddled together like Siamese twins. This didn’t bode well for me.
“The bleeding stopped,” Mom informed me, as if she were a registered nurse.
I set the bandages and the scissors next to her then took the cloth from her hand and wiped the blood from the floor. Bones went running by and slid into the screen door. “What a circus.”
Mom took a bandage out of the crumpled box. “These things look older than the hills,” she complained.
“I like the ones with Batman on them,” Chloe said.
“I’m sure you do, but I don’t have Batman bandages.”
“Why not?”
“Because I don’t have little kids anymore.”
“Maybe you should. Maybe it would help.”
I narrowed my gaze. I didn’t care if my mom witnessed the showdown. Game on.
Mom cut the bandage in half lengthwise and wrapped Chloe’s toe. “There, that should work nicely until you get your Batman bandage.”
“Thanks, Glad,” Chloe said, hanging on to my mother’s neck while giving me the evil eye over Mom’s shoulder.
“You’re welcome,” she replied.
“Are we still going to the beach this afternoon?” she asked.
Crap! Nothing good can come from kissing a man, especially when that man lives next door and has a conniving daughter, not to mention an ex-wife staying under the same roof.
“I’m still planning on it, but Maggie doesn’t feel up to it.” Mom glanced over to me.
Chloe swiped at her muddy cheeks. Dirt, she no doubt picked up hiding in my bushes.
“We can still go,” Mom said.
“I don’t want to go unless Maggie goes.” Chloe pouted. Tears dripped from the inside of her red eyes.
I sighed. Don’t roll your eyes, Maggie. Don’t roll your eyes. I bit my thumbnail, assessing the situation feeling the powers of sisterhood working against me.
“I won’t be happy unless Maggie is there, too. Please come with us,” Chloe begged.
“I really have other plans,” I said. My mom looked puzzled. I was not good at thinking on my feet. Who was I kidding?
“I thought you said you were tired and needed to rest,” Mom added.
I rubbed my temple. My head started to pound.
“Please, Maggie, please!” Chloe begged, tugging on my arm. “I won’t be happy unless you’re there.”
A thin smile crossed my mom’s lips. She seemed to be enjoying Chloe’s charade more than me. “Please,” Mom said, getting back up on her feet.
I let out an exasperated breath. “Fine. I’ll go. I can rest when I get home.” Mom left and I stood toe-to-toe with Chloe. “There wasn’t one single word in that diary and you know it.”
“You still shouldn’t have looked.”
Her eyes flickered as I held her stare. I rolled my eyes. “Sorry,” I said.
Chloe smiled then limped away, letting the screen door slam behind her.
Chapter 20
I soaked up the glorious Michigan shoreline as boats bobbed in the water that sparkled like a sea of diamonds. Sun flooded out from behind feathery clouds. My friend had painted this majestic scene before and called it, God. I loved the composition so much I bought it from him. I’d hang it above the fireplace once the great room was finished. The beach was the place my father would bring me to when I was young. I’d grown up on the rocky shore searching for tiny freshwater shells, fish carcasses, and dreams. Water lapped the land taking me back to a time when he’d held my hand as we walked the beach just like Chloe and John, Dad’s strong hand holding mine, letting me know he’d always be there. Because Dad liked to build and do projects around the house, his hands were strong, but so was his mind. There was no deficit of stubbornness or will. His dark hair and eyes burned brightly in my memory, his thick English brow wiser than the night. I know you’re with me.
I longed for the last day of radiation. That was the day I would allow myself to inquire about the cane at the cancer center. My mother and I watched Chloe splash at the edge of the sandy beach. Her smile stretched from ear-to-ear. Was Mom ever that happy to have a daughter? I was her spitting image.
Dad willed me his mind as my mother gave me her Scottish strawberry-blond hair, green eyes, snarky attitude, and probably an impossible disposition. I slid my sunglasses up on my nose then lifted my face toward the sun filtering through the tree branches overhead. I wanted to be on the beach in my swimsuit, but that wasn’t in the cards since my skin was already scorched.
I checked to make sure I was covered.
“You look so far away,” Mom said.
“Didn’t know you could see me through the Ray Bans.”
“See, it’s not so bad being here. Chloe’s doing her thing and you’re doing yours. Wanna tell me what that was back at the house. If I didn’t know better, you two need boxing gloves and a sparring ring.”
“You know, Dad’s been hanging around,” I said, changing the subject.
“Yeah, I know.” Mom’s voice was barely audible. She stared out to the water as she shaded her eyes. “That Brook sure does have long legs. Wow-wee-woo.” She fiddled with the knot of hair at the nape of her neck. “Your dad was always a sucker for great legs.”
Maggie's Way (Montana Bound Series Book 1) Page 14
