“You need to call Richard and come clean about the pills. If you don’t, I will. Then you need to get some help, counseling. I’ll help you find the right person to help you get off those pills and stay off.”
“I don’t need help. I rarely took them. I’m not addicted.”
And to prove it she’d dump them out as soon as she got home.
Chapter Nine
Richard’s brand new one ton truck was parked in front of Maggie’s rental house when Diane pulled into the driveway to drop her off. Richard was hunched under the front end of her car. He stood up and waved when Diane parked.
“What’s he doing here?” Maggie gripped the armrest and squeezed and glanced at Diane to see a rosy telltale flush on her cheeks.
“You called him? When…?”
“When you went to the bathroom. I’m sorry, but I realized you’ll put it off and avoid talking to him. So to make it easier for you, I took charge. And I know I eliminated and took away your power. But you need to tell him, and this way I know you’re going to talk to him.” Diane’s face reflected a subtle sternness when her compassionate gaze lingered on Maggie. At this moment, Diane had an inner strength Maggie would have killed to have just a fraction of.
Maggie’s hand trembled on the flat handle when she pushed open the door and climbed out. Richard gripped the top of the door forcing Maggie to skirt around him.
“Hey Diane, good to see you.”
“You too, Richard. And she knows I called you, and she’s got something to tell you.”
Maggie’s face burned when Richard swung his deep gaze like a spotlight down on her. And his eyes flared for a moment, just as they used to when he knew she was hiding something. He never blinked or looked away, even when Diane left.
“Okay. Shall we talk here, or in the house?” He crossed his arms.
“She shouldn’t have called you.” Maggie tried to walk past him, but he moved and blocked her escape. “Richard, please.”
“After you, Maggie.”
He didn’t touch her, but jammed his hands in his jeans’ pockets as she scooted around him. Her stomach ached, and she felt her chest burn as her heart kicked up a beat. Richard dogged her heels, and she could feel the burning heat of his gaze in her back. Daisy yipped and scratched at the door while Maggie fumbled with her keys. When she popped open the door, the gray weather stripping around the door frame slipped out again, and whacked her on the back of the head. “Shit.”
Richard pressed the thin rubber strip back in its slot along the doorframe. Daisy whined and demanded all of Maggie’s attention, so she ruffled the top of her dog’s head and then limped to the backdoor letting Daisy into the backyard.
“Did you hurt yourself?”
Her shins, her ankles, her arms ached. But she’d rather focus on that, talk about that, than why he was really here. “Diane took me to her cop club for a game of paintball war. Two of the SWAT guys Diane works with took offense to me nailing them, which I did fair and square, but being the bad sports they are, had a temper tantrum and unloaded all their paint rounds at close range, thus the limp.” Maggie swished her hand at her legs.
“Why didn’t you tell me your car broke down? The transaxle snapped. And that old heap of junk is not worth fixing. You could’ve been hurt or even killed if it broke on the highway.”
Had he even listened to her? “What the hell does my car have to do with the SWAT guys?”
He said nothing, but his eyes and his face took on that hard dark look of his when he got a hold of something and wouldn’t let go, and he waited.
“What are you going to do about it? We’re divorced, remember? I’m not you’re responsibility anymore.” Maggie paced in front of him.
“Well, let’s talk about that. For one, we’re not divorced. We’re not even close to being divorced. And get this straight Maggie, you are my responsibility.”
She didn’t expect that, not from Richard. After Lily was killed, he’d turned his back on her when she needed him most.
“It’s amazing how you remember that now. You seemed to forget that when Lily—” A lump jammed up her throat and the never ending tears glazed her eyes.
“Let’s say it all, have it out.” Richard jammed his finger in Maggie’s face. “I was grieving too. She was my little girl, and I’m sorry, but you weren’t there for me either. It’s a two way street, baby, and you holed up in her room for days and didn’t come out. We both said terrible, cruel things to each other. But Ryley… my boy didn’t have either one of us. We lost Lily. And it’s tragic. And I’ll always grieve for her loss. But life goes on Maggie, it’s been a year, and you need to get past this. Ryley needs his mother and father. Don’t you think he deserves that much?”
Well, that was a slap in the face. The same words she’d heard from Diane earlier today, but Diane was kinder. She shook her head, and covered her ears. Deep inside, she felt herself slipping back into that dark hole. Her chest ached, her palms were sweating, and she started to gasp for breath.
Richard gripped her arms and rubbed both hands up and down her arms before resting them on her shoulders. “Maggie, you’re shaking.”
“I don’t want to talk about this right now. Please Richard, just go.”
“No, I’m not leaving yet. Diane said there’s something you need to tell me. I’m not leaving until you’ve told me what it is.”
Maggie sighed and peered into his steely blue eyes, wondering if maybe he already knew.
“I’ve been taking sleeping pills. Sometimes. When I have trouble sleeping.”
“I see. And?” He said nothing else, and his hands stayed right where they were, as if holding her in place.
“I accidentally took one yesterday before meeting you at your lawyer’s office.”
“I don’t understand how you accidentally take a sleeping pill? Unless you’re taking something else too, and you mixed up the pills.”
Maggie blinked and swallowed the lump that jammed her throat again. Richard’s fingers gripped her shoulders, and his eyes widened as if he could read her every thought.
“Maggie? What else are you taking?”
Okay, he really did know. “Ativan for anxiety.”
“Oh God, Maggie!” He stepped back and pressed both hands on top of his head. “Ahh. What are you doing? How often are you taking them?” He was getting louder, more demanding, as he firmed his lips into a fine white line. “Where are they?”
She couldn’t speak and stood frozen when he stormed down the hall to the bathroom. It wasn’t until she heard him rummaging in the bathroom that she could move.
“Richard! What are you doing?”
He dumped toiletries, bottles, and makeup all over the counter. And he lined up five prescription bottles. Lifting each up, he read each one. “Dr. Martin is who prescribed these?” He glared in such a way, that at another time, she’d have taken a step back from the doorway she stood.
“Richard, I want you to leave. Those are mine. Put them back.” Whose voice was that? It was so weak it cracked when she spoke.
But he didn’t put them back. He lifted the toilet seat and emptied the first bottle into the toilet. She didn’t realize it was her screaming as she grabbed his arm trying to reach around him to rescue the remaining pill bottles beside the sink.
Richard blocked her and emptied all the pill bottles into the toilet and flushed. He threw the empty bottles into the trash. She felt every ounce of energy leave her. She leaned against the doorframe and wept as she slid to the floor. Then he was on the floor sitting beside her, and he scooped her onto his lap as if she were a child and held her.
She pushed against his shoulder—his arms. But this time he didn’t let go. Why hadn’t he done this before?
“Shhh, I won’t let you take these. And this doctor who prescribed these? I swear I’ll have his medical license revoked.”
Sitting on his lap, she gave in and allowed him to hold her, to rub her back, but none of it eased the knots twisting up her insides. W
hen she jerked upright, she wondered if she’d dozed off. She’d lost track of time. Her heart was pounding in her ribcage, her hands sweaty as if she’d had too much caffeine. Only today she’d had none, just a glass of white wine with Diane. She knew the demon had returned. All the signs were there, the familiar anxiety, which soon would give way to panic. He must have sensed what was going on inside of her. After all, he’d know the signs on someone more than she.
“Maggie, you need to tell me. How often you were taking those pills?”
His chin rested atop her head. She could feel his warm breath feathering her hair as he spoke. Could he feel how fast her heart pounded? At one time, he used to know what she was thinking. But things changed, life changed with all its damn tests. And their foundation was not the solid storybook she once thought. But he was here now. Her breath caught in her throat. If she told him the truth, he’d use it against her to keep Ryley away from her. She pushed his arm down and scrambled to her feet.
“I rarely took them.” She wouldn’t meet his brutal gaze when he stood.
“Look at yourself, you’re already agitated, sweating…” He grasped her chin and tilted it up so she was forced to look at him. “Don’t ever forget you can’t hide your lying eyes. Not from me.” He pointed a finger so close to her nose she’d swear he touched her. He narrowed his eyes, and she was sure a flash of lightning passed between them.
She swatted his hand away. “I want you to leave, now.”
Richard shook his head and looked away. Then held his hands up in what appeared to be surrender, backing up. And he left.
She heard the door close, his truck start, and his tires squeal as he drove away.
Maggie stood in her dimly lit hallway, alone for what felt like an eternity, trying to steady her racing heart. Then she slowly crept to the kitchen, but she wasn’t hungry. Regret and loneliness were her bitter companion, and so were the tears and piles of misery that burdened and weighed her down. Why wouldn’t it leave?
She felt a gentle nudge against her thigh. Daisy, so patient, filled with unconditional love, stared lovingly up at her with what appeared to be worry filling her murky brown eyes. Maggie glanced at the open back door. “I’m so sorry, my girl. I forgot about you.” She hugged her dog and then followed Daisy out the open door, this time not wanting to see anyone.
Chapter Ten
“I’m sorry, Maggie. I’ll not renew this prescription.”
If he’d sucker punched her, it would’ve been kinder. She felt her face heat, and her back broke out in a cold sweat. A lock of hair dangled in her face, she scooped it back, feeling tangles in her windblown hair. She must look a wreck. She’d tossed and turned all night, unable to sleep, and at this moment, as she sat stooped in the plastic chair shoved in a corner of the doctor’s sterile examination room, she felt old and haggard. It wasn’t the pills—it couldn’t be. This was Richard’s fault and his emotional roller coaster. Why wouldn’t he leave her alone?
“I don’t understand. You prescribed these for me.” She knew her face had to be two shades of red.
“Maggie, I suspect you may be having withdrawals. That’s why you’re not sleeping. I told you when I prescribed these, they were temporary to get you through a bad time and help you cope with an unbearable situation.”
Dr. Martin’s aging round face resembled an inscrutable poker face. Gone were the kind eyes and gentle caring bedside manner. And she realized this was the first time he didn’t ask, “So how are you really doing, Maggie?” Leaning against the door with his arms crossed, this short hefty man darted his eyes across the room, he seemed to look everywhere, just not at her. He pulled out a pen shoved in the pocket of his long white doctor’s coat and bent over his desk, scribbling something in her file.
“It was Richard wasn’t it? He called you. Didn’t he?”
Dr. Martin let out a heavy sigh and clicked his pen, popping it back in his coat pocket before facing her, and this time staring at her with a hardness she’d never seen before.
“Maggie, look at you. If I’d known you were going to abuse those pills, I never would have prescribed them.”
“What?” She gripped the edge of her chair.
He scribbled something on a piece of paper and handed it to her. She ripped it from his hands and stared at the unusually neat handwriting with a name, Dr. Sheila Murphy, and phone number. Maggie blinked and gazed up at him.
“Call her and make an appointment. She’s a psychologist, and she can help you.” He wasn’t looking at her again. “Okay. I think that’s all.” He gripped the door handle, opened the door, and paused. His cheeks colored a bright pink when he glanced at her, and for a second she was positive she saw something—pity or regret—before he left, closing the door to the examination room behind him.
Maggie opened her mouth, took a deep breath, and stood on shaky legs. She couldn’t bear to walk out into the crowded waiting room, past the reception area—past his nurses, because they’d know what he’d said, and she knew they’d think her an awful person. Was there a back door? She wanted to find a way to slink out of here unseen, go home and hide. Even though the doctor was the liar, not her. He made her feel as if she was someone of no importance. He’d never, not once, told her to be careful with those pills. In fact, he was the one who pushed them on her. She remembered now, she didn’t want to take them. He told her she needed to, because her health was more important. She clenched her fists. Damn him to hell. She wanted to make him tell the truth, share the blame.
She swiped at the tears streaming down her cheek, tucked her purse under her arm, and hurried out past the nurse whose eyes widened before looking away. Maggie scooted out the door of the clinic, and reached in her purse for her keys before stopping in the middle of the gravel lot. She blinked and gazed at the half dozen cars parked. Hers wasn’t there.
“What are you doing? You took the bus. Remember?” She smacked her forehead with the palm of her hand. Her car was the broken heap in her driveway. She started walking to the bus stop around the corner. She dug in her purse for the change she needed when her fingers touched the piece of rose quartz she had tucked in the bottom. She pulled it out and clutched the treasured gift. “Why didn’t I think of that sooner?” Maggie smiled for the first time in days when she realized who she needed to see.
Chapter Eleven
Maggie spent the last of her spare cash on a cab to catch the two forty-five ferry over to Las Seta. She’d loved this crossing. At one time she’d loved a lot of things.
There were half a dozen people on the passenger-only ferry as it docked. Sam, a southern gentleman, tall, fit, and extremely handsome in his worn blue jeans and jean jacket, and one of the most caring men she’d ever met, was waiting.
Sam grabbed her hand as she climbed over the side of the small boat, and before she could pull back and step away, Sam pulled her close and hugged her. “Maggie. It’s good to see ya.”
The southern drawl remained the same thick musical lilt filling her with some measure of comfort. He didn’t question her. But when he pulled back, he gazed at her with soft blue eyes that reached inside her heart. Maybe he knew why she was really here.
“Marcie’s bathing the baby. I will be your chauffeur, m’lady” He secured his arm around her shoulders and led her up to his black jeep—the one he moved to this reclusive island on the barge. Sam’s jeep was most likely the only licensed vehicle on the island.
She wondered how he liked living off the grid on this island with no utilities, no modern conveniences. Love did strange things to people, and she knew Marcie would never live anywhere else except her granny’s cabin.
They’d come a long way from when Sam first met Marcie, when she was attacked and robbed in the New Orleans airport. Then while she was recovering from a head injury, Marcie, Sam, Maggie, Richard, and Diane came together, unlikely friends, to battle and outwit a cowardly predator and a threat to each of them. Dan McKenzie, Richard’s business partner, and at the time, Marcie’s lover. A man o
f deception—a man who preyed on the weak and vulnerable. God, how she hated him.
Maggie didn’t want to speak; she’d always hated small talk. Maybe that’s why Sam was so quiet. They bumped along over the rutted dirt road, thick trees surrounded each side of the road as they made their way inward to the west side, an isolated part of the island, to Marcie’s granny’s cabin.
Sam cleared his throat when he pulled down the long dirt driveway. The bushes scraped the side of the jeep. “You’ve no idea how surprised Marcie and I were to hear from you. Are you going to stay for a bit?” He parked in front of the cabin.
“No, I need to get back tonight, so I can only stay a few hours. I need to be on the last ferry.”
He didn’t reply, only nodded before climbing out of the Jeep. Wisps of smoke rose from the chimney. She followed him up the brand new wood steps and inside the quaint log cottage.
Marcie was sitting in an old rocker by the wood stove, humming a lullaby to her five-month-old baby girl. Kyla cooed and giggled as she reached up with tiny fingers to touch her mother’s lips. Maggie wiped her feet on the mat and stared at the boots and shoes crammed on the wood shoe rack by the door, to try and steady the unsettled confusion filling her. Sam gently gripped Maggie’s upper arms and then skirted around her. Maggie didn’t move, but she glanced at the door when the thought to bolt and make her own way back to the ferry appealed to her so strongly it frightened her.
“Maggie, how are you?” Marcie rose from the rocking chair and handed Kyla to Sam. Marcie didn’t hesitate as she strode in her long dark skirt to Maggie and hugged her in a way that made her want to weep. “Can you stay for dinner?”
Marcie stepped back holding both of her hands. Maggie didn’t answer. She couldn’t because Marcie was watching her as if she could read her every secret and knew why she was really here.
“You’re shaking. What’s going on? Come sit.” Marcie spoke so kindly. She didn’t deserve this welcome. Not from Marcie. Not after the cruel words she shouted at Marcie the day of the funeral, you don’t deserve a child after what you brought into our lives.
From the Heart: Romance, Mystery and Suspense a collection for everyone Page 27
