by Jill Behe
“Well, if my mother ever treated Lancy the way Wyatt’s mom just treated you, I’d punch her lights out.”
“Rick! What an awful thing to say.” Even though I agreed with him.
“That woman, was awful. There’s no excuse for bad manners.”
“She thinks she’s protecting her only begotten son.”
“My left foot!”
I spewed a laugh. “Well, he is.”
“Okay, but damn, he’s in his 40s, for God’s sake. Sound to me like she’s jealous, and cranky, and, and—”
“I think you need to quit before you swallow that hip-wader boot.”
“Maggie, it ain’t right.”
“We’re on the same wave-length, bud, but she is his mother, and my soon-to-be mother-in-law. I need to be nice.”
“There’s regular nice, and then there’s the welcome mat nice. You need to be careful you’re not the latter.”
“It’s a fine line, kid.”
“You know what they say about mothers-in-laws.”
“I’ve heard stories.”
“So?”
“She’s not a wicked step-mother, er, in-law. She’s just—”
“Yeah, you said.”
Calmer now, I sat on the edge of his desk. “I need to find a way to make her like me, Ricky.”
“No, you don’t.” He leaned back, hands folded over his chest. “You don’t need to be anything other than Maggie, and she won’t be able to help herself. But even if she doesn’t come around, you’ll be the better person.”
“Aw, that’s really sweet, Rick. How’d you get to be so smart?”
“I’m serious.”
“I know that. And thanks, but I think it might take a little more elbow grease than that.”
“I’ll help in any way I can.” He shoved back and stood. “If you need me to shoot her, let me know.”
I whacked his arm as he passed. “Very funny.”
“How old is this coffee?”
I glanced at the clock, and wrinkled my nose. “You know I just made it. You had some … crap, an hour ago.”
“Oh, yeah. Huh. Time sure flies when you least expect it.” He went back to his desk. “Wyatt’s coming back?”
“Yeah.”
I squinted.
“I’ll stay ’til he gets here.” His chair creaked as he leaned back. “Besides, I need to kill some time before I have to go pick up Lancy. Might as well do it here, as anywhere.”
“Thank you, Rick. You’re a good surrogate son.”
“And you’re the best second mom a guy could ask for. Your sons are really lucky.”
“You have a wonderful mother.”
“I do. And as I said, you’re the best second. I wouldn’t trade our … whatever it is, for anything in the world.”
“Neither would I.”
The front door opened.
Oh, good, Wyatt was back.
“Rick, when did you get here?”
“Been here all afternoon.”
Wyatt looked at me.
I nodded.
Ricky pointed. “Don’t you dare apologize. For anything.”
“Um, okay. I won’t. You ready to go, Maggie?”
“He was keeping me company. I’ll get my coat.”
“I appreciate you staying, Rick.”
The boy-man stood. “I told her I count her as my second mom.”
“I know you do. That’s a fine thing.”
“So that makes you, my second dad.”
That flummoxed my sexy he-man, I could tell by the way he was shifting from one foot to the other and couldn’t decide what to do with his hands. “Well, I, um—”
Rick gave him a good-natured slap on the back. “Just saying.”
“Uh, thanks. I, um, appreciate that.”
Rick adjusted his hat, then tipped it in salute. “I’ll say good night.”
“Same to ya.”
“Tell Lancy hello from me.” I brushed my hand down the coat sleeve of my proxy son. “See you in the morning, Rick. Drive safe.”
He nodded and went out.
“I should have said something back to him.” Wyatt threw his arms wide. “God, he blindsided me with that. I mean, I’m flattered, but— I just never…. How am I supposed to react to something like that?”
I watched him with a full heart. “You reacted just right.”
He stood in the middle of the room, staring at the floor for several seconds. “It’s so weird, ya know?”
I buttoned my coat. “What is?”
“I never thought about having kids, especially not with Carolyn. But now, even though they’re all grown, I’m going to be a father. And not just to yours, but a sort of adopted one, too. It’s so….” He huffed out a big breath. “I don’t even know how to explain it.”
“You’ll be fine. You get along great with all three of them already. That shouldn’t change.”
“And,” he gave me a crooked grin, “I won’t even have to change diapers.”
“Not for a few more years, anyway.”
His face blanched. “Wha—?”
I had to laugh. “Grandkids, sweetheart. Grandkids.”
“Good God, lady! I thought you meant—” He pointed at my … flat belly.
“I’d love that, but I’m too old, and one of my essential parts is missing.” Chuckling, I linked arms with him. “Let’s go home, Pa.”
He bumped me sideways. “Horses are all warmed up; wagon’s hitched and ready to go, Ma.”
We locked arms and went out.
I buckled in. “Why does your mother hate me?”
There was a pause. I didn’t have to look to know he was frowning. “She doesn’t hate you.”
“Oh?”
“She doesn’t know you.”
“I mentioned that earlier and you said—”
“Yeah, I know what I said. It’s not hate, okay? She doesn’t trust you.”
“What have I ever done—?”
“If you’d let me finish. Carolyn—”
“Oh. That explains a lot.”
A brief hesitation. “What?”
“Sorry, I interrupted you again. But to answer your ‘what?’ I remember her. She was a spiteful uppity … bitch, among other things.” Um, oops. “Your mom’s contempt is justified, in my opinion. But I don’t get the transference of all that disdain onto me. I’m not anything like your ex. And we’re just….” I bit my lip.
“We’re what?”
Okay, so he wasn’t upset that I’d called his ex a bitch, or maybe he was and we’d get into it later. “Well, I was going to say ‘dating,’ but we’re more than that, especially now.”
“We’ve always been more than that. And my mother doesn’t see it because she’s not around us all that much. On top of that, yes, you are way way different than my ex.”
I sighed. “All the more reason for your mom not to be so judgmental.”
He was right, but that didn’t really help the current situation. Something needed to be done to remedy it, and it looked like I was the one who would have to do the remedying.
But what? And how?
And yes, it would have to be me, because she never would, didn’t want to, was probably—at this very moment—plotting every way possible to break us up.
Not that that would ever happen.
At least not if I had anything to say about it.
“Maggie?”
“Yeah?” Uh oh. Here it comes.
“I love you. Carolyn and I were never, ever, right for each other. I saw it then, but fought hard to keep it together because I thought it was the right thing to do. But there came a point where too much ugly was going on with her. There was a last straw that killed every good feeling I ever had for her. You know where I stand. You’ve heard me say it a few times.”
“Um, yes. That’s why she’s actually in a different state.”
“Absolutely. And just so you know, bitch is too mild a word for what she is.”
Well, okay, then.
I smiled. “I know. Thanks. I love you, too.”
We pulled into my driveway and he put the vehicle in park.
“My mother has issues, yes, but down deep, she is only concerned about me. Please, take that into consideration whenever she’s around.”
“I’d already decided to do that.”
“That’s my Magdalena.”
Oh, yeah. It still has the power to render me into a puddle of mush. The kiss was pretty spectacular, too.
He unbuckled and opened his door.
“Uh, Wyatt?”
“Yeah, babe?”
“We need to go to Corsair’s. I need spaghetti sauce, cheese, ground beef, and bread, so I can make lasagna for your parents tonight.”
“Shit. I forgot that was tonight.” He re-buckled, and started the Jeep. “My mother can be a giant pain in the ass.”
“Hmm. Tell me about it.”
CHAPTER 37
SATURDAY MORNING
IT HAD TURNED glacial again after SUNDOWN, which coincided perfectly with the weather inside my house during the evening meal last night. What a contrast to the one I’d prepared for my parents only a few days ago.
Geez, it seemed so much longer than that.
Fortunately we hadn’t gotten waylaid by too many well-wishers and were able to get through Corsair’s Market fairly quick. For dessert, we’d picked up some tapioca pudding from the deli department, as I – again – wouldn’t have time to make Jell-O. The lasagna had gone together without a splatter, and was in the oven and bubbly by the time Wyatt returned with his parents.
From the moment they walked in the door, the chill wasn’t just outside.
Gage and Dawson kept glancing at me with questioning eyes. All I could do was shrug.
Wyatt’s mother outdid herself with rudeness. The only acknowledgement she gave, when introduced to my sons, was a nod and a sniff; and never spoke a word directly to me.
She complained about the cold, and her husband pointed out, “It is the middle of winter in Pennsylvania. What do you expect?”
Since he jumped and hissed afterwards, I’m thinking she kicked him under the table.
Oh, and the lasagna was too dry. The bread, too much garlic. Red wine should have been served instead of sweet tea. Dessert? “I can’t abide tapioca pudding.”
I didn’t know what else to do, and my Christian upbringing forbade me to reciprocate in kind. But boy did my thoughts retaliate. I’d definitely have to do some repenting when next I said my prayers.
Wyatt, after his mother’s rebuff of my boys, ignored her.
His father, on the other hand, made a point to get to know Gage and Dawson. Exclaimed repeatedly about how excellent the food was. And interacted with Wyatt and me throughout the meal. I hoped he wasn’t just compensating for his wife’s lack of manners. There was such a marked difference between the two of them, I wondered how they’d stayed married.
Once the meal was over, the boys helped me clear up while Warren and Wyatt adjourned to the living room. At the table, Harriet sat like a stone, mouth set in a pinch, eyes straight ahead, purse on her lap.
I offered her coffee.
She ignored me, at first. Then, as I was wiping off the table cloth, she cleared her throat.
“I believe I will have some coffee.”
I clamped down on my lips, so surprised I almost gasped out loud. “I have a piece of coconut cream pie left, if you’d care for that.” It was Wyatt’s pie, though I had been the one to buy it. I’d just have to get a replacement to make up for it. Besides, I didn’t think he’d mind.
She blinked. “C-coconut cream?”
“Yes, ma’am.”
I waited. The thread spun so thin, any misstep or wrong word and it would surely snap.
“That’s…. That’s Wyatt’s favorite.”
“Yes, I know. I don’t care for it much, myself. But since he likes it, I make sure there’s one in the fridge from time to time.” I paused, not sure what else to say. “As I mentioned, there’s a piece left. You weren’t keen on the pudding, so….” I shrugged and waited, watching her.
“He gets that from me, that he likes coconut cream.” To my astonishment, her eyes watered up and overflowed. “Can you ever forgive me?” Instantly, I was seated next to her as she dabbed at the tears with her napkin. “I’ve been such a fool. I knew you were different than … she was. My stubborn vindictiveness has had a long time to grow. You’ve been nothing but kind, and I’ve treated you like a jealous selfish shrew.”
I patted her arm. “Let me get that coffee and pie for you, shall I?”
She nodded, and a fresh wave slid down her cheeks.
In the kitchen, Gage and Dawson were grinning and giving me the thumbs up. Obviously, they’d been eavesdropping.
“I knew you’d wear her down, Mom.”
“That’s sweet, Dawson.” I grabbed two mugs. “Why don’t you go see if Wyatt and his father would like coffee, too.”
“I can do that.”
Gage laid a hand on my shoulder as I set the pie on a plate. “Seriously, Mom. She was being a witch. You always taught us that heaping hot coals of kindness on an enemy’s head would win them over. If there was ever any doubt, you proved it true tonight.”
I gave him a hug. “Thanks, Gage. All those years of trying to bash that stuff into your brain finally paid off.”
“Ahahahaha!”
Gage grinned. “Shut up, Dawson.”
“Dude. You’re both right.” He joined us for a group hug.
“Okay, that’s enough or the waterworks are going to start flowing in here, too.” We broke apart.
I was contemplating how to carry three things with two hands when Dawson came to the rescue.
“I’ll get the pie.”
“You’re such a good kid. So mannerly.”
“You’re gonna get this in your face.”
Smiling, I pushed through the door to the dining room. “Here we are.”
Dawson set the plate in front of Wyatt’s mother. “Your pie, Gran.”
I held my breath.
She stared up at my baby, and—miracle of miracles—a smile bloomed. “You’re such a handsome boy. I’m sorry, which one are you?”
He grinned. (What a ham!) “Dawson, the youngest.”
She reached out a hand. He clasped it. “A fine young man, indeed.”
Gage came through the connecting door, heading towards the living room, with two mugs. He paused.
Harriet looked at him, squeezing Dawson’s hand so hard the kid winced. “I may not be getting any grandsons through blood, but I couldn’t ask for a better pair than you two.”
Dawson broke free of her grip, shaking out his fingers. “Thanks. It’ll be really cool getting to know you and Grandpa Madison.”
Her laugh—so loud, long, and delighted—brought her husband and son into the room on the run.
Wyatt stared at her, then at me, then at each of my boys.
Warren was wary. “Harriet, have you gone mad? What’s wrong with you?”
She beamed. “Aren’t our grandsons just superb, Grandpa Madison?”
His jaw dropped.
Wyatt turned to me, hand over heart. “I bow to your superiority, Oh Great One.” His tone was solemn as he bent his head.
“You said that once before. Keep it up and it’ll go to my head.”
Warren was nodding, though he seemed to be stunned by his wife’s transformation. “Yes, Harriet, I agree. They are fine, strong, healthy young men.”
“Wyatt?”
“Mom?”
She reached for my hand, our eyes connected. “I couldn’t be happier with your choice of a wife if I’d picked her out myself.”
I was almost sad that they’d be leaving Sunday morning.
Warren came out of his trance, and started clapping. “Hallelujah!”
* * *
THE RINGING of the phone broke through my reminiscence, and for a moment I forgot I wasn’t at work. “Mossy Creek Police Department. This
is Maggie, how may I help you?”
Out of the corner of my eye, I saw Wyatt coming towards me from the kitchen.
“Are you alone, Beth? No, not yet. But you will be one of these days. Be careful.”
Click.
It was him. The phantom phone caller. I blinked dumbly at Wyatt.
“What?”
The useless phone dangled from my hand. “It was, it was him.” He grabbed the receiver, even as I was shaking my head. “He-he hung up.”
“What did he say?”
I closed my eyes and took a breath. “He asked me if I was alone. Called me Beth. Nobody calls me Beth.” As I said it, a memory slid through my mind, but faded just as quickly.
“What else? Was that it?” He did the *69, thing. “Nothing. Damn.”
“Um.” Lord, it was hard to concentrate. I repeated the caller’s words, verbatim.
Wyatt leaned against the door jam, staring. “Who calls you Beth?”
“I already told you, nobody calls me Beth.”
Someone had. Someone a long long time ago.
But who?
My fist pounded the wall.
Wyatt bent towards me. “If you remember—”
“Wyatt—”
“When you remember, I better be the first person you tell.”
“If I remember that there’s anything to remember, I’ll make sure you’re the first one to know.” I scrubbed my hands over my face. “I need to get out of here for a while. I’m going to see if I can find the three musketeers. I need the Jeep. Please.”
He handed over the keys.
“Thanks.” I stopped beside him. “I’m really glad you’re on my side.” I ran my fingers through his hair. His face turned and I took advantage of his mouth. “I love you, Wyatt Madison.”
He grabbed my hand. “I love you, too Magdalena Mercer.”
We kissed again.
I pulled on my coat.
“On second thought,” Wyatt was buttoning his, too. “Why don’t you drop me off at Mac’s?”
After Pansy’s call yesterday, I’d decided the boys and I needed to talk. Now was as good a time as any. I was sure they’d been observing and dodging our visitors for a while. Probably since the Cleveland boys had hit town.
The most obvious place to look for them was at Josh’s.
CHAPTER 38
BEARDING THE … PUPS IN THEIR TENT
