“Did you read this?” he asked.
“Yes,” I answered. Then I hoped there wouldn’t be a quiz.
“You don’t want to keep it?”
I shook my head. “No.” I paused, waiting for that familiar pang of loss that Beckett had left me with, but it didn’t come. “I really don’t.” I watched his face. His brown eyes were solemn, his temples grayer. “Are you mad?” I asked.
Beckett put the journal back in the box and closed the lid. “No, Maggie, I’m not mad.”
A wave of relief lightened the heaviness I felt in my chest. “Just thought you might want it back. It’s pretty personal.” And it wasn’t mine to keep. Keeping the relic would be an unyielding weight on my conscience each and every time I saw it on the shelf.
My treasures needed to fill the space and no one else’s. There was a long life ahead of me. What was in the past was going to stay in the past. Bradley reminded me of the important things, things that mattered, and times that’d shaped us into family. “You need it more than I do,” I said.
Beckett’s eyes glistened, and I knew I had made the right decision to give it back.
“Thanks, Maggie,” Beckett said, lifting the top two boxes. “I’m going to take these to the car then I’ll come back and get the last box.”
His tall, lanky body seemed trim as ever as he walked down the driveway. I moved the third box from the corner then decided I’d carry it to the car for him. I handed the ragged box to Beckett when he finished rearranging the back seat.
“You didn’t have to do that, Maggie. I said I was coming back.”
I didn’t appreciate his tone. My mouth curled downward. “I know. I was just trying to help,” I said quickly.
“I was coming back to get it.”
“What’s the big deal?” I asked.
“That’s just like you. You’re always a step ahead. Sometimes you should just let people do what they’re going to do. I told you I was going to get the box.”
The jab deflated me. I wasn’t going to apologize. Why should I? “I was just trying to help,” I repeated, unsure what he wanted from me. “Surely, you understand the concept.”
Beckett sighed. “Never mind.” He took his keys out of his pocket. “Paul said he thinks you have a thing for your neighbor.”
I glared at Beckett. “How is that any of your business?”
“It’s not, but you should consider the ramifications.”
“Are you serious?” I quipped. “Would you like me to give you dating advice?” Obviously, he’d forgotten the scene at the restaurant when he told me I’d find someone as I sobbed out of control in public.
Beckett narrowed his eyes and glared at me. “You’re hilarious.”
“Just sayin’.”
“Not sure you know much more than I do,” Beckett shot back. He got into his little eco-friendly hybrid, started the engine, and rolled down the window.
“I think we should both keep our personal lives to ourselves,” I scolded, leering into his car.
Beckett smiled. “You’re probably right. I just know being alone isn’t your thing.”
I rolled my eyes. I didn’t need anyone. “Right now, I just need myself. Thank you very much. I’ll figure it out.” I took a breath. “I’m gonna take one day at a time, my way,” I lectured.
“Point taken. You can stop now. And so will I.” Beckett put the car into gear. It drifted in reverse toward the street. He leaned his head out the window making sure the coast was clear then glanced my way one last time.
I waved goodbye, not sure of when I‘d see him again.
That was like Beckett, he had to have the last word. I closed the garage door then strolled toward the house. There was a world of quiet waiting for me just inside the creaky screen door that had been the threshold of many nuances. I peered over to John and Chloe’s house. All was quiet there, too.
Chapter 26
My left temple throbbed, as if Chloe had knocked me in the head all over again. I put the phone down and started to paint an orange moon in my photograph. I’d taken the photo on a field trip last fall, a congregation of black-and-white heifers adjacent the perfect barn, more interesting than the pumpkin patch where my class trudged along paths harvesting perfect pumpkins to carve jack-o-lanterns. I colored in the spots on the cows with a rainbow of colors. One cow graced pink spots, another lime green, another turquoise, and another lavender. I would tribute the color scheme to Easter eggs. Each brush stroke calmed my nerves as I processed the cancer lab’s words. I didn’t want another week of radiation. I thought we were on the straight and narrow. She said it was precaution. I thought it was overkill. But then again, what did I know? I put my paintbrush down, scrutinizing my color palate. The cows captured my attention sparking an idea to make multiple black-and-white copies for further artistic endeavors. I envisioned a Christmas tribute with green-and-red cows, a Fourth of July tribute, a Valentine’s Day tribute with pink-and-red cows, a Saint Patrick’s Day tribute; my mind wouldn’t stop. It was a children’s book in the making. I never thought about writing a children’s book, until now. I made a note to make reprints. I wouldn’t know if I didn’t try.
The phone rang and John’s number flashed on the screen. “Hello,” I said.
“This is Chloe. My dad’s on his way over. Be prepared,” she said in a hurry.
The abrupt disconnection pierced my ear. “What was that all about?” I said to myself. The doorbell rang as soon as I put the phone down on my desk. Bones skidded to the front door, barked twice, then sat down and snapped at a fly that buzzed by his nose. “Get it, Bones,” I said.
He barked again in my direction and snorted as I yanked on the heavy oak door. John had his hands buried in his pockets.
“That’s some face,” I said, opening the screen door to join him on the porch. “With all the rain, the lawn needs to be mowed,” I noted. “The bushes need to be trimmed, too.” I peeked over the railing for tiny feet or prying eyes in the hedge. “What’s going on?” I asked, watching John rub his temples. I knew the feeling. My breast ached today. Must have been the weather.
“So, Chloe is all jazzed up for dog school,” he began to say.
“Great. Bones needs some manners. And I need some help.” I knew I could brave the experience alone, but didn’t want to. Chloe already had a better rapport with Bones and besides if I thought about it, there wasn’t anyone else who’d want to go with me. Maybe Mom, but then I wasn’t so sure I would want to go.
“Don’t get too excited yet. There are some conditions,” John said.
I backed onto the porch swing and gave it a nudge to get a slow sway going. “Must be Brook. Why does she hate me?”
John grunted. “She doesn’t hate you.”
I rolled my eyes. “So you’ve said. And yes, she does,” I declared.
John sat on the porch half-wall. “She wants to go with you two, to dog school.” He lowered his voice. “I think she’s jealous. In some weird way she doesn’t want to lose her daughter to you.”
“What?” The squeal in my tone surprised me. “You can’t be serious.”
“I am. And Chloe is all torqued up about going. Brook said yes, then she said no. Then she said yes, as long as she could go, too.”
“Great.” I forced a smile. I thought about Chloe and then pondered her manipulative mother. This was a bad idea. “What’s wrong with her?”
A shadow drifted over John’s steely gaze.
“Sorry, don’t answer that. Now, what am I supposed to do?” The sway of the swing slowed.
“It’s up to you,” John said. “I’ll understand. Chloe is a different story, but she’ll bounce back if you don’t want to go. Disappointment is a big part of life.”
“Don’t I know it,” I stated.
John’s lips curled upward with the hint of a mischievous smile as he moved to the other end of the swing. It swayed like a lazy summer breeze. The quiet between us seemed like a long-lost friend.
“
Your skin looks really irritated,” John whispered. “Does it hurt?”
I touched the red, flaking area beneath my arm. I’d forgotten I was wearing a little tank. The fresh air felt refreshing against my raw skin. “Not really. It’s itchy. And ugly.”
“I’m sorry, Maggie.”
I wasn’t sure what he was apologizing for. At this point it could be anything. I wished I had chosen a different shirt or had something covering my peeling skin.
“I’m sorry you’re sick. It’s not fair,” he added. “You don’t deserve this. Nobody does.”
“You’re right about that. Cancer sucks the big one,” I replied, making eye contact. “I love summer. I shouldn’t have to spend it going to treatment everyday wondering what the outcome will be. And now, I have five extra sessions.” I held up five fingers. “The doctor called today.” John’s caring eyes warmed my heart. Raw, bruised, hurt, I swiped at the corner of my eye. His tenderness surfaced at the least expected moments.
He scooted closer to me.
After a hard swallow, I allowed myself to face him. “It’s okay. It’s what I have to do.”
“You’re a strong woman, Maggie. I haven’t met many people like you.”
“Some days, I’m not sure I’ll make it,” I said softly.
“You will,” John said, playing with the strand of hair that had fallen across my cheek. “You will.” He chuckled, putting his hand on my shoulder with a tender squeeze. “If you can do this, and survive your crazy neighbors and their antics, you can do anything.”
The warm weight of John’s hand grounded me. It felt good to have someone besides my mother care. I needed her because my world was small and her antiquated presence was essential, but I longed for someone else, something else. I was becoming fonder of her quirky habits as we began growing older together. Funny, how time and a little serious illness can change a person’s perspective. Now, I had the attention of someone else, a man, reaching out to me. John challenged me, made my nerves bristle, but he was kind, compassionate. Something about him beckoned me to explore the possibility that he just might be somebody, even if he had a seven-year-old child, and an ex-wife. Were the planets going to align bringing peace and harmony or was I in the path of destruction and heartbreak? Only time would tell.
“So, you have a motorcycle. How come I’ve never seen you ride it?” I asked, changing the subject to something that didn’t involve feelings. I hoped John wasn’t the kind of guy who was going to call his chopper by a woman’s name or suggest it was an extension of his manhood. That would be a deal-breaker.
“Well—” John made a clicking noise with his tongue against the roof of his mouth. “I don’t actually know how to ride that well.”
I laughed. “Then why do you have a Harley? That’s a serious bike.”
“I’m really not a motorcycle guy,” he said.
“Yet.” I shifted my weight and put my arm on the back of the swing. My skirt fluttered as we moved back and forth.
“Not sure, I ever will be. Truth is, I bought it thinking I could just ride, get away, tune out the world on bad days, and feel the wind in—” He touched his head, letting out a guttural chuckle.
I laughed then touched his head without thinking. His extra-short haircut on the side of his head was stubbly. “You kind of look like a biker, not a pediatrician.” I thought about his left shoulder. “I saw the tattoo at the beach. What’s that all about?”
“Reminds me of growing up on the ranch. My dad collected horseshoes. You should see them sometime. He has hundreds, tacked up inside the stable, in the house, even has some in his truck. He’s the one who urged me to be something other than a Montana rancher. Now, I’m here.” His voice trailed off.
“You don’t want to be here?”
He shook his head. “Not sure. I thought it was the right thing to do for Chloe. She needs neighbors and a school.”
Bones nudged the screen door open with his nose and joined us on the swing. His weight jerked us closer together and he nuzzled in-between us.
“Here’s the beast that stole my little girl’s heart,” John said, scratching the dog’s head.
“Better a dog than a boy,” I interjected.
John made a face. “I guess so. What’s your story, Maggie?”
I cringed. “Well, you know I’m divorced. I have a son named Bradley. He’s twenty-two and lives in Boston.”
“Yeah, I get that, but why are you here?”
“I grew up here. My job. I only have a few more years until I retire.”
“You look too young to retire,” John scoffed.
I snickered. “Nice try, doctor, or is it cowboy now that I know you’re really from Montana?” I ran my fingers through my hair then continued. “I bought years through the school district I work in. That purchase, one of the good decisions I made, will help me get out early. And I am looking forward to it.”
“What about your mother?”
I smirked. “She’s funny. She’s got so many things going on, so many friends, sometimes I rarely see her. She’s the opposite of me. I like my solitude.”
“Maybe you would like my dad’s ranch.” John rubbed his chin. “What do you do in your spare time, the time when Chloe’s not bugging you?”
I fingered the wood of the swing. “I love to read and I just started hand coloring photographs. I really enjoy my camera and this summer I’ve had time to work with it. Would you like to see what I’m working on?”
John stopped the swing, and Bones’ creased forehead showed his loathing reply to our decision to go inside.
I stood up, my legs a little shaky.
John held the door for me.
“You coming, Bones?” I asked.
He put his head back down between his paws and shut his eyes. Soft whimpers escaped his jowls before I even stepped inside the house.
“This is a big house for one person,” John commented. “Love the new living room. Gonna get more furniture?”
“Nope. I’ll fill it up as I go. Starting over, I want new memories,” I said. “This is my workplace.” John’s eyes scanned the wood paneling in the library.
“My dad would love this room. It reminds me of his ranch.” He went over to the window and rested his hand on the ledge. “Even the light in here feels like God’s country.”
I smiled. “There is something about this house that is like a sanctuary.” I showed John my photographs of Bones in the ruined garden, a photograph of Chloe, and the cows.
“You did the photographs on the wall?”
“Yes, I just finished them the other day and put them in frames. I love that photo of my mom,” I said.
“It’s great. And Bones, he’s something else, isn’t he?”
“Yeah, hence the need for obedience school.”
“You’re just an old softy. You think you’re all big and bad, but you’re really a marshmallow on the inside,” John said.
I sighed. “Like my dad,” I said, touching the photo of my mom. Dad was there, too. I wanted him to be alive. I wanted him to know me. I knew he did, but on a different plane. “I miss him. He passed away a while ago.”
“Sorry, my mom is gone, too. I know how that feels. It’s like a kick in the gut you never recover from. You have to force yourself to breathe,” John said softly.
“Yeah.” The sting of loss lingered as I blinked away sorrow. I hadn’t cried this much since Beckett and I separated. Even the words breast cancer hadn’t caused a meltdown. That was a kick in the gut, too, but I was able to recover. “Were you close to your mom?”
John faced me. His eyes gleamed in the deluge of afternoon light. “Yeah. I guess you could say I was somewhat of a momma’s boy. I think my dad thought I should have been tougher.”
“Maybe learning how to ride that Harley would change that.” I shifted my attention from the photographs back to John as he leaned over my desk. I liked how he chuckled. Wicked mystery waggled at the corners of his eyes, and I wondered what he wasn�
�t sharing.
“Maybe.” He hooked his thumbs in the pockets of his jeans. “So let me see what this is all about.”
He picked up the picture of Chloe and ran his finger over her face. “I hope you don’t mind. I couldn’t pass up the moment. You can have it, if you want,” I offered.
“She takes after me, poor kid.”
“Yes, she does, but I’m not so sure that’s a problem.”
“So you’re admitting I’m handsome?” John came around to my side of the desk.
“Maybe. You’ll just have to wait and see,” I whispered, meeting his warm green eyes.
He rested his arms on my shoulders. “You sure are one hard woman to read, Maggie Abernathy. First, you’re all surly like a tomcat on the prowl, then you’re all sweet like warm molasses on a summer day.”
“You should let that cowboy in you out more often.” My voice trailed off just like my mind. Who was this guy? I shut my eyes trying to collect my thoughts and resist his proximity. God, he smelled good.
“Maybe I will, only if you’re good.”
His soft lips kissed my forehead. Trickling heat warmed my blood from the top of my head to soles of my feet. The pain in my breast, gone, the irritation from Beckett, gone. My heart danced and the world seemed a little bit better. Actually, a whole hell of a lot better.
Chapter 27
Bones and I strolled along the pathway near the lake. I peeked over my left shoulder at the thundering footsteps behind me. Chloe was running at full speed. She yelled my name into the wind as our eyes met. I stopped. Bones danced on his hind legs then rolled onto his back as soon as she was upon us. Chloe panted and flipped the hair away from her face to see. Her injured toes seemed to no longer be a problem. Her neon-pink toenail polish gleamed even on a cloudy day.
“Hi, stranger,” I said.
With a heavy sigh Chloe kneeled down to rub Bones’ belly. She gulped for air then started to speak. “My dad says I can’t go to dog school.”
She delivered the disappointment through sad eyes, followed by a sigh. For a moment, I thought maybe Bones had been teaching her some of his tricks. Bones’ hind leg twitched as Chloe scratched his neck, his dog tags jingled beneath his wrinkly chin.
Maggie's Way (Montana Bound Series Book 1) Page 19
