I gulped down a mouthful of frozen drink then winced at the instant headache from the sugary cold. I pressed my eyes shut and rubbed my forehead, begging for relief. A shiver of childhood ran down my spine.
“Maggie, are you okay?”
I opened one eye. “God, that hurts,” I said, clenching my teeth. My eyes blurred from the pain, but I did my best to focus on Brook. A soft gentleness lingered in her eyes like warm blue seas I hadn’t noticed before.
“What’s the matter?” she asked.
I pointed to the frozen drink on the bench. “Too much cold.” I massaged my forehead with hopes of rubbing the pain away. “You ready to go?” I asked. Brook had on a different suit today. It was a nude-colored crocheted bikini. The design filtered through her opaque flowing cover-up. Did she ever not look fabulous? Did John still think she looked fabulous? I glanced over at Chloe who was standing on top of a mound of sand, probably someone else’s sand castle no doubt. “She seems like she was having fun.”
Brook peered over the top of her sunglasses. “Yeah, I sure will miss her. It’s rough being so far away.”
I picked up my Icy, then my camera bag, and scouted for the perfect place to shoot Brook’s photo. “Then why do you live so far away?” I asked, remembering Mom saying that curiosity killed the cat, but I threw it out there, risking backlash.
Brook stepped into the sunshine then put her hand on her forehead to shade her eyes. “I like that spot over there.” She pointed to a big rock with tall wild grass in the background.
I waited for her answer. It was less rude than some of the other things I had said to her since her arrival. I padded toward the rock, digging my toes into the sand, and repositioning the strap of my bag as it pulled my top from my shoulder. I prodded a bit more. “Hollywood is far away.”
“Not that it’s any of your business, but since you won’t let it go, that’s where the jobs are. If I want to model and act, I have to be in Hollywood. Chloe understands, if that’s what you’re worried about.” Brook kicked up sand as she walked along side me.
I wasn’t so sure I believed her. She didn’t seem too attached to her daughter. “Does she ever come and visit you?”
Brook shrugged off my question at first. Then she stopped. With the sun behind her head, glowing like a halo, I couldn’t see her eyes behind her shades. I don’t think I would have wanted to either. By the creases in her forehead, I considered I had crossed the line.
Water lapped the shore keeping a steady rhythm. A white foamy layer bubbled on the sand as the water returned home to the lake. Brook pushed her Ray Bans up on top of her head. The breeze swept loose locks of blond hair across her sharp cheekbones. I marveled at her reaction. A heavy warm feeling held my feet planted in the sand as I watched Chloe out of the corner of my eye.
“It’s not that easy,” Brook said. “I never wanted a baby.”
Chloe’s laughter drifted through the air. Gravity tugged at the corners of my mouth with sadness. How was that possible? Beckett and I had such great problems getting pregnant and all I ever wanted was a child. No words came. The quiet rift stabilized.
“There, I said it. Are you happy?” Brook snapped quietly.
I chose my words carefully as I tilted my head into the sun for warmth and strength. “I’m not trying to get under your skin. I’m trying to understand.” I peered toward the rock then pointed. “Let’s head over there, the sun is in the perfect place.”
Brook gathered her lose hair and twisted it into a spindle to one side of her head and let it fall over her collarbone.
“Snapping an impeccable photograph would make me happy.”
Brook sighed. “How do you do it?”
I put my face to the breeze, watching the horizon thinking it was my responsibility to define life, not let missed opportunities seed regret. Brook strolled, dangling her sandals from her fingertips. I kicked off my flip-flops, bent down, picked them up, and caught her staring at me. Her serious gaze solely focused on me, and I asked, “Do what?”
“Keep on going. There aren’t many people like you,” she said. “You poke, you jab, but you always come back for more regardless.”
“I guess I don’t see things the same way you do.” The rush of cool lake water washed over my feet.
“I never meant to get pregnant. John seemed excited, and I pretended.” She paused. “I bet you think I am a terrible mother.”
“What would make you think that?” I responded, trying to hide judging thoughts as I put my head down, and continued to put one foot in front of the other.
“You stayed married until your boy left,” Brook said.
He wasn’t just a boy. “His name is Bradley.”
“You wanted him, right?” she asked.
“With all my heart and more,” I answered. A thick warm chill filled me. My heart swelled, prompting me take a breath. “I love him so much. Sometimes, he’s all that keeps me going.”
“It’s not that I don’t love Chloe. I do, but there’s this invisible yearning to go do all these other things. All I ever wanted was to be a model. I can’t do that here,” Brook explained.
The rock grew bigger as we neared it, and the scent of wild grass tickled my nose. I glanced back over my shoulder. Chloe skipped behind us, kicking water, her arms swinging like she didn’t have a care in the world. And there we were, Brook and myself, leading the way. “I’d like to believe that all mommas love their babies. It would just be too sad if they didn’t. And if they don’t, I hope they get love from someone else. Mommas come in all shapes, sizes, and ages. Sometimes you don’t even have to search for them, they’re just there,” I said, thinking about my students, kids, Chloe, and Bradley. “Everybody chooses their own path whether you are seven or seventy,” I continued. Chloe’s singing grew louder. “Do you come to see Chloe because you ache to see her or do you just come when your schedule allows?”
Brook stopped.
I stopped. A strange calmness floated between us. I waited for Brook’s fiery words. Shame clouded her blue eyes. She chose her path. I chose mine. And Chloe danced behind in our footsteps.
“The ache hurts. I know it well,” I said, trying to console her.
Brook swiped at the corners of her eyes. “I just want to know she is okay from time to time,” Brook whispered, glancing back over her shoulder at Chloe, who was chasing the boys.
Chloe waved and skipped toward us.
I nodded. She did love Chloe, but in her own way.
“You are so irritating,” Brook mumbled. “I really don’t like you,” she said, sliding her sunglasses back to the bridge of her nose. “Sometimes—”
“I know.” I moved over, allowing Chloe room to scoot in-between us. The aroma of hot dogs and Hawaiian Tropic drifted through the air.
Chloe grabbed her mom’s hand. “Where you guys going?”
I pointed to the big rock at the end of the beach. “Up there to take some pictures.”
“Cool, can I come, too?” she asked, seeking her mom’s approval.
Brook pushed Chloe’s damp hair away from her face. “Sure,” she said, putting her sunglasses on top of her head so she could see her daughter’s glow. Brook smile softened her chiseled features.
“I’ll stay down here and shoot up, then work my way up to where you are.” Brook climbed up the rock and Chloe shimmied behind. Chloe’s hips mirrored Brook’s. I set my camera and waited for Brook to get ready. She ran her fingers through her hair. Her glamour faded and I smiled to myself. “Chloe,” I yelled. “Wait over there.” I motioned to a grassy spot behind Brook.
Brook wrapped her fingers around Chloe’s hand. “No, I think the pictures would be much better with her in them.”
Chloe’s smile grew. She hugged her momma from behind.
I snapped the first photo.
Chapter 31
Mom came into the library with a tall glass of lemonade. “You’ve been in here for hours.”
“Yup,” I said, distraction not an
option.
“I took Bones for a walk,” she said, making herself comfortable on the worn sofa from out West. She put her feet up on the ottoman and sipped at her drink.
“Thanks. Was he good?” I asked.
“Depends on your definition of good. He’s back in one piece.”
I peered up from the photograph I was painting. Her arched eyebrow cautioned me. Don’t ask, don’t ask, don’t ask, I told myself. Mom dug her knitting out of her tote next to the chair. “How many hats do you have now?” I asked.
She shrugged. “I stopped counting.”
“I should be done here in a minute. Do you want me to cook you dinner?”
“That would be nice. I invited the neighbors over.”
“What?” I rolled my eyes. “Is that why you cleaned out the refrigerator and brought a cake?” Mom’s eyebrow twitched as she focused on her knit one, pearl two even more intensely. “You always have an ulterior motive.” Mom’s familiar smirk appeared in the seam of her aging lips. I always thought of her and saw her as middle-aged. Sometime when I wasn’t looking, I took her middle-aged place, which made me ache knowing she was growing older.
“Must be where you get it from.”
Her knitting needles clicked.
“Touché,” I answered, not making eye contact. “What are we having? What time are they coming?” I asked dabbing at the puddle of paint. “Exactly who is they?” I asked, stroking the midnight-blue paint across the sky of my photo.
“I don’t know what we’re having. That’s up to you. They’ll be here at seven, and they would be Chloe, John, and Brook. Chloe is bringing a friend. I believe her name is Bella.”
I thought I’d heard Chloe mention Bella before. “Great.” I had two hours. “That’s one way to get me out of the library. You’re interrupting my creative swerve.”
“Sometimes interruptions add brilliancy to the madness,” Mom said.
“So you say,” I mumbled.
“It’s a matter of fact. I’m sure your dinner will be lovely, now quit fretting,” she ordered. “I finished Chloe’s hat. I’ll give it to her tonight.” She held it up.
I peered over and squinted. Adorable. “When did you get so fashion savvy?”
“Brook helped me.”
I sighed. “Of course she did. I like the sequins on the band and the pearls in the center of the flower. Chloe will love it.”
“Hope so, what are you giving her?”
I stopped painting. “What do you mean, what am I giving her?”
“Didn’t she tell you?” Mom asked.
“Didn’t she tell me what? I don’t think it’s her birthday,” I said, washing out my brush and putting my paints away.
Concern washed over Mom’s expression, and my chest tightened.
“She’s going to Hollywood with her mother.”
My heart skipped a beat in the sting of disbelief. “For a visit?”
Mom was quiet. The corner of her mouth sagged.
I slid my chair back, glancing over the photos of Chloe and her mother that were sprayed across the floor next to my bookshelf. “I don’t believe it.” I grabbed my keys, my purse, and a gulp of fresh air as I left the house. The screen door slammed behind me and I drove away with tears in my eyes.
Mom was gone when I got back from the store. I found the quiet house a bit unsettling. I dug out the biggest sauté pan from the cupboard and arranged my ingredients on the counter. I’d splurged and bought jumbo shrimp. I reached back in the cupboard to get a large pot for orzo then filled it with steaming water and put it over a high flame. I drizzled in some olive oil and salt. The fresh spinach was hearty and beautiful against the store-bought cherry tomatoes that I had to buy, no thanks to Bones. I squeezed the lemons and waited for the water to boil.
I set the table in the dining room, but then changed my mind. I needed to be outside without a ceiling, confining walls, a place with plenty of air. The doorbell rang as I carried the stack of plates to the patio. “Come in,” I yelled.
Determined to be ready before the guests arrived, I continued straightening up my house. I couldn’t lie to myself. It was not going to be easy to sit across from Chloe thinking she was going away with her mother.
“Let me help you with that,” John said.
He took the heavy stack of plates from me. “Is it seven, yet?”
“No, I figured this wasn’t your doing and thought you might need a hand. You have to be exhausted.”
A knot filled my throat, and my heart. John understood. For the first time in a long time, I didn’t mask the truth. “I am.” I opened the French doors for John, and the rush of warm, summer air washed over me. I arranged the placemats on the table outside as John arranged the place settings.
“Thanks for having us over,” he said.
“No problem. You really should thank my mother,” I said over my shoulder as I went back inside.
“I will.”
John followed me. He put his hand on mine as I reached for the tray that held the silverware and napkins. A rush of heat ran through me. It wasn’t a hot flash. His emerald-green eyes held my attention. “What?”
“I came over early because I wanted to tell you something.”
I wanted off the hormonal rollercoaster holding me hostage. I held on to myself as sadness dimmed his beautiful eyes. I couldn’t take much more. “What is it?” I murmured. “Are you leaving, too? Are you going to Hollywood with Brook? And Chloe?” I couldn’t see him leaving his daughter.
He snickered. “No, I am not going anywhere. I told you before, I’m not with Brook. I could never survive out there. I’m having a hard enough time here in the Midwest. So you know Chloe’s leaving?”
“Mom kind of let the cat out of the bag. Why? What gives?” I asked, narrowing my eyes.
“Ever since you took her to the beach to do that shoot, Brook’s been different. She thinks Chloe should try it out there with her.”
I grimaced.
“I know what you’re thinking. I don’t want her to go, but if I don’t let her go, Chloe may never forgive me. Some things she’s going to have to learn on her own.”
“Who? Chloe or Brook?”
The corner of his lip curled toward the ceiling. “Both, I suppose.” John’s mountain twang rolled off his tongue as he rubbed his chin.
His stare brightened.
“What?” I said in my usual way.
“So,” he said with a snicker, “you really do care.”
I rolled my eyes and looked away.
“Admit it, you are attached to Chloe,” he said, touching my chin and redirecting my attention.
“I just don’t want to see her get hurt,” I said, my words teetered on the verge of tears. The rumble of the boiling water reminded me I had forgotten about the heat. I dumped the box of orzo into the pot. It bubbled and rolled.
John leaned against the counter.
“That’s all,” I said.
“That’s all, my foot,” he said.
“What if she decides she wants to stay with Brook?”
“You are full of questions,” he said, putting his hands on my hips.
“Sorry, this isn’t any of my business,” I whispered, staring into his soulful eyes. We were nose-to-nose. A hint of concern crossed his stare.
“We’ll cross that bridge if and when we get to it, and that’s a big if, Maggie.”
John slid his hands around my waist and clasped them behind my lower back. “You sure do have a way with people,” he said. “I’m not sure what you said to her, but you got her thinking, that’s more than I could ever do.”
“I’m sorry?” I said, not sure where we were going with the conversation.
“I’ll let you know later if an apology is in order,” John said with a twinkle of hope flashing in his eyes.
I smiled. “I sure as hell hope I don’t owe you one.”
John laughed. “Do I scare you that much?”
His breath synced with mine. “Sometime
s you do scare the hell out of me.” I closed my eyes and let him kiss me until the hiss of water kissing the burner tore me away. John took the potholders from me and slid the pot off the heat. “I’ll finish in here if you could finish the table,” I suggested.
He pulled me close again and held me, his words in my ear. “You can’t always control what happens around you, but you sure can pray like hell that it all turns out for the best.”
I wrapped my arms around his neck then leaned back to get one last look before mayhem arrived for dinner. “Thank you.”
“You’re welcome,” he replied.
“Kiss me again, before they get here.”
“So, you do like that, huh?” John joked and pulled away. “I think you just may have to wait for the next one.”
“So you’re admitting there’s going to be a next one?” My body quaked with uncertainty. I had never really played this game before. I stirred the pasta with anticipation.
John came from behind and drew me close. His lips brushed against my ear. He took the spoon out of my hand, moved me away from the stove, and up against the wall. My stomach rolled over with excitement as he lifted my chin.
“It’s sooner than you think,” he said in a deep seductive drawl.
I closed my eyes, and his lips brushed mine, teasing, taunting. I wrapped my arms around his waist and held him close. When he finished kissing me, he smoothed the hair back from my face. His fingers caressed my hot cheeks. His smile ignited my desire for more.
“If your cooking is as good as your kissing, well—” He paused then stepped back giving me a sexy smirk.
“Well, what?” I said.
“Let your imagination run wild, Maggie, just let it run wild,” he said, picking up the tray of silverware and napkins.
Maggie's Way (Montana Bound Series Book 1) Page 22
