The little boy across the room from him ducked his head and scuffed his shoe along the floor. “Nobody's comin', huh?"
“They'll come,” Gabe said, silently vowing to get people into the restaurant if he had to go to each of their houses and drag them out by the hair.
Maggie stepped up behind her son, and Gabe's breath caught in his chest. She looked beautiful, her long hair curled and pulled back from her face only to fall in a thick wave down her back and across her shoulders. Her simple green calico dress hugged her body enough so that his palms itched to hold her. And even from across the room, he could see the shine of imminent tears glimmering in her brown eyes.
The last two weeks had been the longest of his life. To be so close to her and unable to touch her. To hear her speak to him as politely as she would a stranger. To lie in his bed at night, remembering the peace he'd found in her arms. To know that his time with her was nearly at an end. And that he would spend eternity missing her as he would a part of himself. Because that's what she'd become. A part of him. The best part of him.
She laid one hand on Jake's shoulder and guided him into the room. When they were just a few feet from Gabe, she stopped and looked around at the beautifully appointed and completely empty restaurant.
"It seems there are lots of things neither of us can change," she said and he heard the hurt in her voice.
Back teeth grinding together, Gabe stiffened and met her gaze when she looked at him. He wouldn't let these people ignore her. By damn, he'd bring her in customers. 'They'll come. It's early yet."
She shook her head and he tried not to notice the lamplight shining on her hair, gilding it. "No they won't."
“Why not, Mama?" Jake asked, tipping his head back to look up at her.
“Because, honey, some things can't be changed." She never took her eyes off Gabe. "No matter how much you try, or how much you wish it were different.”
"That don't make sense," Jake muttered.
"Doesn't," she corrected.
"Doesn't," the boy muttered, then a moment later snapped, "But it don't Gabe says it's never too late to change things. Gabe says if you want something bad enough, you can get it. Gabe says you gotta keep tryin' even when it looks like you ain't never gonna get it."
Maggie flinched at the boy's words and Gabe felt that flinch as he would have a slap. Everything he'd told the boy came back to haunt him now. He'd only tried to instill in the child a sense of hope. A sense that no matter what happened in his life, he shouldn't quit trying to succeed.
But hearing those words quoted back at him only made him feel like a heel. How she must want to shout at him, to tell Jake that Gabe was a liar and that trying only brought pain. Still, being the amazing woman she was, she didn't do it. Instead, she patted Jake's shoulder, pasted a smile on her face and said, “He's right, Jake. It's just that sometimes changing things takes time. It doesn't happen overnight.”
“Don't see why not,” the boy muttered.
And neither did Gabe. Damn it, he didn't have time. He couldn't sit around waiting for Regret to come to its senses and accept Maggie and her business. They had to do it now. Mind racing, searching for a way to bring in customers, he finally hit on an idea and smiled to himself.
"You two wait here," he said and turned for the front door. "I'll be back."
"Where you goin'?" Jake called.
"To make some overnight changes," he told him. Gabe threw the front door open and almost ran smack into the preacher and his wife. "Reverend," he said, smiling.
"'Evening, Gabe," the little minister said and slid a glance toward Maggie before whispering, "A bargain's a bargain. We're here, as promised."
And his wife didn't look very happy about it. Her face was three shades of pale and she clung to her husband's arm with a grip that told everyone she'd rather be anywhere else than where she was.
Well, two customers were a start, Gabe thought and shook the minister's hand. "I'm pleased to see you, reverend," he said. “I was beginning to wonder if you remembered our little deal."
"Oh,” he said and ran one finger around the inside of his collar. "It would have been hard to forget."
Gabe chuckled at the man's obvious nervousness. "Relax, Preacher," he said, "we haven't poisoned anybody in nearly a month."
"You've been closed," the other man pointed out.
"A man of the cloth? With so little faith?"
“Let's just say I believe in heaven, but I'm in no hurry to visit."
"Go on in, reverend," Gabe said. "Maggie will take care of you. I'll be back directly."
"Into the lion's den," the minister mutter then swallowed bravely, nodded, and took a step inside, dragging his reluctant wife behind him. But as Gabe closed the door, he heard the woman's gasp of delighted surprise.
"Why," she said on a breath, “it's beautiful."
Smiling to himself, Gabe sprinted toward the saloon. With any luck, Maggie would soon be hearing more of those compliments.
#
Two customers weren't enough to build a restaurant on, Maggie told herself, but listening to the reverend's wife chattering on and on about the dining room's beauty was certainly a balm to a wounded heart.
“Why, now I see why the reverend asked you to paint the church," the tiny woman was saying, her head still turning this way and that, taking time to admire even the smallest details of the paintings decorating the walls. "At first, I thought…" She stopped herself and smiled at Maggie. "Well, it doesn't matter what I thought. The point is, I just love this. Oh, my dear!" She poked her husband's upper arm. "Look, there are even butterflies hovering above the rose vine on the trellis."
"I see," her husband said, reaching up to rub his arm.
“You've done wonders here, Maggie."
Jake flashed her a proud grin and Maggie felt a flash of happiness for the first time in two weeks.
"You know," the other woman was saying thoughtfully, "if it wouldn't be too much trouble, perhaps when you've finished painting the church, I might hire you to spruce up our home?"
Maggie simply stared at her. "I beg your pardon?"
The minister smiled as his wife kept talking. "I would love a flower garden on our bedroom walls," she said dreamily. "I can't imagine waking up to something this beautiful every morning. Oh! And perhaps something simple and lovely in the parlor. Perhaps a twine of ivy around the windows and doors?"
Maggie opened her mouth then closed it again. She didn't know what to say. She'd never expected this.
"What do you think, dear?" the woman asked her husband.
"I leave the house to you, my dear," he said with a smile and a wink for Maggie. "Just remember, I asked first so the church has priority on Maggie's talents."
"Oh, naturally, but I would love to make plans with you, Maggie, when you're not too busy?"
"Of course, but I—“ Whatever she might have said was lost in the sudden burst of piano music that seemed to leap into existence out of nowhere. "What in heaven . .?"
Maggie hurried across the room, her customers and son right behind her. Flinging open the front door, she stepped out onto the boardwalk to find the piano player from the saloon seated at his instrument in the middle of Main Street. An oil lamp on top of the piano spilled light across the old man's features and the keys his talented fingers flew across.
As she watched, a stream of men flowed from the saloon, carrying tables, chairs, and oil lamps, which they scattered across the street in random fashion.
"What are they doing?” she asked no one in particular.
Just then the sound of a well-played fiddle joined the piano and music soared up into the night sky.
“Well, my goodness," the preacher's wife said as her toe started tapping against the boardwalk.
“This looks like a party," the reverend muttered.
"It certainly does," Maggie agreed, noting that one by one, her friends and neighbors were leaving their houses and wandering out onto the street. Called by the music and the lights,
the citizens of Regret were being wooed to Maggie's grand opening whether they liked it or not. And only one man could have come up with such an outrageous plan. Her gaze raked the familiar faces crowding the street. Finally, she spotted him, rearranging a row of chairs into a semicircle facing the piano player and the fiddler.
He laughed at something someone said and Maggie's heart lurched in her chest. How could she let go, knowing that nothing in her life would ever be the same once he'd left her?
As if he sensed her gaze on him, he straightened up and looked at her. Slowly, deliberately, he shrugged and smiled. Maggie's toes curled. Despite the crowd of people and the distance separating them—despite their harsh words and the emptiness of the last two weeks—she stared into his eyes and felt an invisible cord bind them together. And she vowed to do everything she could to keep it from being broken.
Chapter Eighteen
"Just look at her,” Sugar muttered, eyes narrowing as she stared through the crowd at the woman of the hour. "Smiling and carrying on as though she was the belle of the ball."
Beside his wife, Redmond shifted and huffed out an exasperated breath.
The music and lights had drawn Sugar here, and for one brief moment, she'd been entranced with the oil lamps glittering in the street and the couples dancing and laughing. But as soon as she'd discovered that the impromptu party was all for Maggie's sake, the magic had gone out of the scene.
"It's not right,” she whispered viciously and threw a quick glance at her husband's stoic features. "It's just not right that she should have so much when her mother ruined my life."
Redmond inhaled sharply and Sugar thanked him silently for being so outraged on her behalf. A chill wind shot down the length of the street, tugging at the hem of Sugar's dress and whipping free a few graying blond strands of her hair. She lifted one hand to futilely smooth them back into place.
"You see it, don't you, Redmond?” she said, her voice so low, the piano and fiddle nearly drowned it out. "You understand."
"I do," he murmured, shaking his head.
"I can't let this go on," she continued. "I have to tell her what I think of her. I've tried to be a lady, Redmond, but sometimes, you simply must speak up. Or something inside you will burst.”
“I know just what you mean," he assured her.
Nodding, she said, “Then wait for me at home. I'll be there as soon as I get a few things off my chest."
She took a step toward Maggie, but Redmond's hand came down hard on her shoulder. Glaring up at him, she said, "Let me go."
"No."
She tried to yank free, but his grip was surprisingly strong. This was so unlike Redmond. He rarely spoke up and never tried to force his will on her. Now was not the time for him to start. Frustrated, she snapped, "You just said you understand. I have to face her. I have to tell her what I think of her and her fancy man."
"You've already said enough to Maggie," Redmond said quietly, locking his gaze with the woman he'd loved so long. How could she be so blind to everything but her own hatred?
"Redmond," she said, "you're hurting me.”
He winced and eased the pressure on her shoulder, but he didn't let her go. Not this time. He'd waited long enough. Some might say too long. Tonight he'd say what needed saying if he had to tie her in a chair to make her listen. "You're coming home with me."
"I am not."
A few people nearby turned to openly watch the confrontation going on. He paid them no mind.
“There are a few things I want to say to you, Sugar, before I burst," he said, not caring who was listening. "And I’m not doing it here.”
"Well, I'm not leaving," she snapped and folded her arms across her chest.
"Oh, yes you are," he murmured and bent down quickly. He tucked his shoulder into her middle and stood up, lifting her too thin body with no effort at all.
Gasping wildly in outrage, Sugar pounded on his back with her fists and whipped a furious glance at the men daring to laugh at her. "Put me down this instant, Redmond Harmon."
"Not this time, Sugar," he said and started off down the street for home. Absently, he noted that the music had stopped. Snatches of laughter rippled around them and he didn't care one whit.
"Blast you, Redmond, put me down!”
At least she was paying attention to him. Most days, they walked through their lives, each of them separately, polite strangers occupying the same house. And it was his fault, he knew. He should have told her long ago how he felt. Should have made her feel the same.
He walked faster and he heard her grunt as her breath shot from her lungs every time he took a step. As they neared home, the music behind them started up again. The townspeople went on about their business and that was just as it should be. This was between Sugar and him. No one else.
He set her on her feet as soon as he walked in the door and blocked her way when she would have pushed past him in an effort to escape.
"What has gotten into you?” she demanded, her usually pale face flushed with a deep pink color.
“Years of waiting,” he said tightly and took her hand to drag her into the main parlor. Once there, he pushed her into a chair, then turned around and poured himself a healthy drink of whiskey. Downing it in one gulp, he slammed the glass onto the tabletop and looked at his wife.
"You're being a fool," she said, but didn't make an attempt to get up.
"No, I've been a fool up until tonight."
"What's that supposed to mean?"
"It means, Sugar, that I've waited for you to wake up and see me." He crossed the room, grabbed her up from the chair, and pulled her close. "See me. The man who married you. The man who loves you."
She twisted in his grasp and the color on her cheeks brightened. "Of course I see you, you ninny."
"No you don't. When you look at me, you see the man I'm not. You see Maggie's father. The man who left you for another woman.”
She gasped as if he'd struck her.
"You've spent years mourning a man who wasn't worthy of you.”
"I wasn't mourning him," she snapped.
“Then what? Pining?"
“No, he… hurt me. Humiliated me."
"I know that, Sugar," Redmond said and pulled her even closer, wrapping his arms around her until they were so close that when she drew a breath, air filled his lungs. "But instead of seeing what we could have together, what we could build, you focus everything you have on the past.”
"Redmond—“
"No more, Sugar," he interrupted her. "I knew you didn’t love me when we married."
"I—“
"No lies tonight. Sugar. There've been enough lies and half-truths between us." He paused, took a breath, and admitted, "You didn't love me, and it didn't matter to me."
"It didn't?"
She stared up at him and Redmond saw the world in her eyes, as he always had. But in the years they'd been married, he hadn't pushed himself on her. He'd wanted her to come to care for him. Maybe even to love him. But maybe he shouldn't have been so damned patient. Maybe he should have taken her to bed every time she got spiteful or resentful. Maybe then they'd be happy today. Maybe they'd have a family.
"No, it didn't,” he said, "because I loved you so damn much."
"You never said—“
"I didn't want to push you."
“But—“
"But that's over. I’m through apologizing for being the wrong man."
"I never asked you to—“
"I love you, Sugar," he interrupted her again. "And we can still have those babies you always craved!”
"I’m too old,” she said softly, her voice filled with defeat.
"No you're not," he said and let one hand slide to the curve of her bottom.
"Redmond!"
He looked her dead in the eye. "Neither of us is too old. But if we wait much longer, we will be."
He sighed and shook his head. “Making babies requires us having sex more than once every couple of months."
/> "Redmond!" Her eyes widened, her mouth fell open.
"Sex, Sugar,” he went on, loving the embarrassed flush on her cheeks. "Hot, sweaty, wonderful sex. I've tried to be patient, hoping you'd come to care for me. But I need you, Sugar. I need to be inside you, filling you. I need to hear you crying out—“
"I did no such thing!"
"Oh, yes you did," he said, with a soft smile of remembrance. "One night a couple of years ago, you forgot about being a lady long enough to enjoy yourself." He sighed. "I still think about that night."
She bit her lip then ducked her head. "I do too."
"Thank God." Redmond smiled and tipped her chin up. "Enough of the past, Sugar. It's finally time to build a future."
"I don't know…"
“I do," he told her, bending his head lower. "I'm sure enough for both of us this time too."
Then he kissed her, hard and long and deep, with all of the passion and love he'd been holding back over the years. Seconds passed and then she melted against him, her body going limp in his arms. Finally, he broke the kiss long enough to shift his mouth to the line of her throat and when his lips closed over her pulse point, he felt the rapid rate of her heart and smiled inwardly.
"Oh, Redmond…" she murmured.
#
Maggie watched the faces of the people she'd known most of her life and smiled to herself as she had all evening. The fried chicken was too dark brown to be called golden. The biscuits were a bit underdone and the mashed potatoes and gravy both had enough lumps in them to pave Main Street, but her restaurant was a success in spite of it all.
Even Sugar hadn't been able to spoil this night, she thought and wondered just what had happened that had pushed Redmond Harmon into taking a firm hand with his wife.
Smiling to herself, Maggie walked to the shadowy end of the boardwalk and leaned tiredly back against a porch post. Her head was ringing with the compliments she'd received all night. Everyone loved what she had done to the place and the minister's wife wasn't the only woman who'd asked Maggie to help them decorate their own homes.
Gabe had been right, she thought, when he'd advised her to be different. To not be afraid to be herself.
Catch a Fallen Angel Page 21
