Sam stood in the kitchen, as still as a man could holding a baby, and stared at her as if he too knew what was really going on.
Maggie wanted to cry, and her face heated with shame. She pulled her hands free from Marcie and shoved them in the pockets of her down coat. When she glanced up, she didn’t miss the uneasy look that passed between Sam and Marcie. She fisted her hands to stop the trembling. Her heart was hammering so hard she wondered if they could hear.
“I’ll get you some tea. Maggie come and sit here.” Marcie pulled out the kitchen chair and patted the back.
“I’m okay… I don’t need any tea.”
“My granny used to say there’s nothing better to soothe away your worries than a steamy cup of tea.” Marcie filled a teapot from the black kettle on the wood stove. She reached for two mugs on the narrow shelf by the sink and placed them on the kitchen table. She poured the hot tea and placed a mug in front of Maggie, scooting a chair up beside her.
The wood stove heated the kitchen, and love filled this cabin. But it did little to alleviate her overwhelming emptiness. She placed her hands on the table, but couldn’t bring herself to touch the hot mug.
“It’s so good to see you, Maggie. I was just saying to Sam the other day how much I miss you guys. When you called and said you were coming, well… I’m happy to hear from you, but Maggie…” She stopped.
A few seconds of silence passed before Maggie realized Marcie wasn’t talking. She glanced at Marcie, and when she saw her brows furrowed and how her light blue eyes took on a seriousness she’d not seen before, she wondered if they’d ask her to leave.
“We’re worried about you.” Sam rubbed his daughters back and stood behind Marcie.
Something squeezed her chest, making it hard to breathe, and her sound reasoning slipped away, and she wanted to scream. They were judging her. She could feel their disdain. She scraped her chair back and stood. “Richard called you, didn’t he?” She couldn’t keep the bitterness from blurting out.
Marcie started to say something, stopped, and glanced at Sam.
“Maggie, you’re in trouble. I don’t know what you came looking for. But what you’re going to get is help.” Sam placed Kyla in Marcie’s arms, his hand lingering on her shoulder for just a bit, before stepping around the table toward Maggie. As he moved, the way he watched the mother of his child had Maggie envying Marcie for what she had with Sam. He was a good man. He touched Maggie’s arm as if she was wild horse ready to spook. “Maggie—”
She heard footsteps clambering up the steps. Someone knocked, the door opened, and Richard stepped in. His steel blue gaze latched onto Maggie, and she knew without a doubt, the shaky tower she’d constructed around her heart had just crumbled.
Chapter Twelve
“You called him. How could you do that to me?”
Marcie flushed and rested a sleeping Kyla against her shoulder. “Maggie sit back down, you need some help. Look at you, you’re shaking. Your forehead’s covered with beads of sweat. I bet right now your muscles ache. You haven’t eaten anything have you? You’re nauseous right? Your eyes…” Marcie eased back her chair and stood up beside Sam.
Maggie clutched at her chest through her bulky coat and stepped back until she bumped into the small framed archway that lead into the front room. She needed to get out of here. But Richard blocked the only exit. The way they were watching her was freaking her out. So she shut her eyes. Her ears were buzzing.
“Maggie,” Richard called out to her.
She opened her eyes, but her vision blurred from tears she didn’t even know she’d shed. She staggered when the room swayed, and her heart thumped harder against her ribs.
“Maggie, you’re not getting any more of those damn pills or anything else. You were taking them more than what you told me. Every day. Weren’t you?” Richard sounded so angry.
She covered her face, unable to speak past the dryness in her throat. She couldn’t fight him anymore. “Please don’t take Ryley away from me,” she begged and let her arms fall to her side. She didn’t have the energy to fight. Her skin felt so irritated, she rubbed her arm, and the nausea and sweating worsened. She shoved her hands in her coat pockets hoping she had an Ativan stashed, even though she’d searched every pocket and purse twice already. She hoped to find a sleeping pill, too. She needed one to take her out of this world to a dreamless void of non-existence. To erase the pain she still refused to face.
Richard stepped in front of her, blocking Sam and Marcie, and pulled her into his arms. Just like yesterday, but this time, they just stood together while he rubbed her back, and then her arms, in slow even circles up and down. This time when she leaned into him, something cracked the shaky layer around her heart as a whimper escaped, and she crammed her fist in her mouth to stifle her sob.
She clutched his shirt. “Richard I hurt… I’m so tired. I can’t stop shaking. I can’t fight you.”
“Shhh baby, I’ll get you through this.”
“Damn you, why are you doing this to me? Please just give me something to make this hurt stop.”
Unable to keep up the charade, Maggie sobbed and held onto Richard, and for the first time in a very long time, realized she wouldn’t be alone.
Chapter Thirteen
The late morning sun streamed through the cathedral window on this unusually warm winter day. Maggie sat cross-legged on the cushioned window seat in the sunroom Richard built as an addition onto their house. Maggie sighed as she stared out at the acres of thick forest and the Mount Olympus part of Olympic National Park.
Maggie couldn’t remember ever being so tired. She shut her eyes as she leaned against the stack of fluffy pillows. After bringing her home, after a rough first night at Sam and Marcie’s, it had been a week of night sweats, insomnia, vomiting, and cramping muscles—and Richard never left her side. She’d begged them, each one of them, for something to ease her ache. But each had been unbending as they got her through that hellish first night. Sam boiled her water to drink and explained the details of how she was dependent physically and psychologically on these drugs. And he told her over and over she needed to understand what her body was physically going through. And why the brain receptors become less sensitive to the drugs’ effects, and soon she needed more and more for the same effect. How her quality of sleep was reduced, and why the next day she’d experience drowsiness and cognitive slowing, like a hangover, which is even worse than sleep deprivation. Marcie rubbed her back and reminded her she’d be okay. She was strong, and she’d get through this. But it was Richard who never left; and sometimes he yelled. He was adamant, a steel wall of support, cutting through her foggy reasoning until she let go and leaned on him.
The next morning, Sam and Richard returned on the ferry, taking her home to the Gardiner acreage. Richard held her outside on the deck of the passenger ferry as she vomited over the side of the small ferry at least a half dozen times. Ryley had stayed overnight at a friend’s. Sam gathered a few of Ryley’s belongings and hopped on the first ferry back to Las Seta with Ryley. Diane picked up Daisy from Maggie’s house in town.
Maggie never would have believed she was addicted to a couple of simple medications many people take every day. But the withdrawals the second day—wow—she trembled just thinking back. Remembering so clearly in her delirium, she begged Richard to give her something, anything, to stop her insides from burning, aching. Her nausea had her hanging over the toilet and sleeping on the cool tile floor to relieve the pressure in her head that was so bad she’d swore her head would explode from the unrelenting pounding. And the shakes that racked her body. Richard remained firm as he held her, and swore to her at least a dozen times if he could get away with it, he’d kill the doctor for giving her the pills in the first place. Richard cleaned her up, bathed her, and rubbed her back while she cried and begged. After three days, the worst was behind her, leaving her so empty and sapped she only wanted to sleep.
Now after a miserable week, Richard had dared to leave
her side. Maggie watched him through the window as he paced back and forth in front of the barn, talking on his cell phone. After what they’d survived, it was hard to believe how he’d become her rock—in a way she’d never expected. Even after all the horrible hateful words of blame she spewed like venom, which shamed her now as she did her damnedest to avoid thinking and reliving.
Richard glanced up as he spoke on his cell phone and watched her as if he expected her to leave. She’d given him good reason, after all, wasn’t it the second night she’d snuck out? Barefoot with no coat, she’d taken his truck keys and had started the engine before he ripped open the driver’s door and yanked the keys from the ignition, pulling her from the truck, kicking and screaming, as he carried her back in the house. She knew he was tired, and he started hiding the keys. He installed deadbolts on both doors, the kind that need a key to open, and he hid those keys too.
But as she leaned back into the plump pillow of the window seat, she dozed and wondered when Richard had changed. There was something solid and older about him. Some wisdom and a nurturing side that never existed before.
When she opened her eyes, Maggie sat straight up. Richard appeared upset and yelled at whoever was on the phone. Then he shoved his cell phone in his pocket and raised a fist in the air. He stomped toward the woodshed and scooped up an armload of wood.
The screen door hinges squeaked, and Richard’s heavy footsteps creaked on the oak floor. Maggie listened to him fill the wood box, stuff more wood in the wood stove and close it up. Maggie gazed at her fluffy pink slippers just as she felt him appear in the archway. She looked up into those magnetic blue eyes and saw the familiar concern as he watched over her.
“I need to run into town, I won’t be long. Do you think you’ll be okay until I get back?” He hesitated as if holding his breath. Either he’d trust her or lock her in.
“I’m good.”
“Okay…” He hesitated again. She noticed the dark circles under his eyes, the day old beard, and his shaggy hair was a little more mussed than usual.
“Richard, is everything okay?” She slid around and started to get up. To go to him, but he shook his head.
“Don’t get up, Mags. Stay comfortable.”
“Richard, is something going on? I saw you out there on the phone. You look upset. And I know you’re tired.”
He flicked his fingers through his hair, spiking it up. He let out a heavy sigh and appeared impatient.
“Maggie, I got to go. I’ll call Diane and ask her to come over.” Well I guess he doesn’t trust me after all.
“No, Richard. I don’t need Diane to come and babysit me. Please don’t call her.” This time she did get up and walked straight toward him. She touched his arm, and she could feel him tighten. Maybe he’d had enough of her problems. “Why won’t you tell me what’s going on? I can feel it. I know I put you, everyone, through a lot. Is this about me? Do you want me to leave?”
“Maggie, you’re not leaving. Stop reading something into nothing. And stop asking questions. I don’t want to get into it now. I’ve got a lot on my plate,” he snapped, closing his eyes for a second as he let out another heavy sigh.
Why is he shutting me out?
“Richard, please.” She shook his arm gently. This time his face softened, and the way he watched her let her know love still lived there, but it was tinged by a lifetime of hurt and pain.
He cupped her cheek, caressing the pad of his thumb over her cheekbone. “I won’t be long Maggie, stay in the house. Will you promise me?”
“I won’t leave.” She placed her hand over his, the one touching her face. A second later he pulled away and left. Maggie stayed where she was as she listened to the door close and realized Richard paused a few seconds before hurrying down the stairs. She let out the breath she didn’t realize she was holding. He didn’t lock the door. Trust was a shaky thing to rebuild.
Maggie wandered into the kitchen, leaned against the kitchen sink, looked through the window, and watched as Richard drove his truck a little faster than usual down the long gravel driveway. Where was he going? Was he meeting someone? Would he tell her when he returned? She hoped so.
She shivered and rubbed her hands up and down her arms. Even though she wore a heavy sweatshirt, she had a hard time staying warm. She grabbed her bulky sweater off the hook by the door and pulled it on as she wandered back into her sunny sanctuary, this time curling up in an overstuffed chair and ottoman, shutting her eyes, and waiting for Richard’s return.
Chapter Fourteen
Rattle, rattle, clank. Maggie blinked, needing a moment to wake up. She sniffed the spicy aroma of lamb curry. Her favorite. A moment passed before she remembered where she was, as she lolled her head back against the overstuffed cushion. She clutched the patchwork quilt now nestled over her. When did she cover herself? How long had she been asleep? Her eyes widened and took in the shadows of the brilliant sunset filling the room.
Maggie’s stomach grumbled, and for the first time in a really long time, she was hungry.
She tossed back the blanket and crept across the room wearing her fuzzy pink slippers. She stopped in front of the wall mirror with the Beechwood frame just outside her sunroom. Her eyes looked glassy, and the skin under them was tinted gray, but at least she had some color in her cheeks. Her shoulder length curly hair was tangled and stuck up at the roots on one side. And for the first time in many years, she worried about how she looked to Richard. Even though he’d seen her at her worst.
She ran her fingers through her hair trying to work out the tangles and stepped into the kitchen where Richard stirred something in a pot. Steam rose from another. He glanced up, frowning with what appeared to be concern as he studied her. “You’re better.”
Maggie felt her cheeks warm and nodded. She shoved her hands in the deep pockets of her brown sweater. Uneasy, she pulled her hands out and tucked her hair behind her ears.
Richard smiled in a teasing way. “You look fine, Maggie.” And then he glanced away distracted again.
“Did your meeting go okay?”
“I didn’t say I had a meeting.” He opened the refrigerator, grabbed a bowl, and then set it on the counter.
“Okay. No, you didn’t. But you said you needed to go out, and you left in a hurry. I know you’re bothered by something. We were married. I know when something’s going on with you.”
“We’re still married, so get that straight.”
“I realize the divorce isn’t final…” She stopped, unsure where to go, and then paused, surprised by the intensity that flared to life in his eyes. He abandoned stirring whatever was in the pot and crossed his arms as he stepped toward her.
“You don’t even remember the meeting at my lawyer’s, do you? Did you think I didn’t know you were on something that day?” His voice climbed with each step he took toward her until she could feel the heat of his body. She opened her mouth to say something. But he didn’t let her respond. Instead, he spoke right over her. “You think I’m going to let you go? No divorce. Ever!”
She was stunned by his passion, and his caveman “I’m the boss, you’ll do what I say” attitude raised her hackles. However, she was still mad at herself for the screw-up with the pills that turned the entire day into one big blur. She let out a heavy sigh and wiped her palms down the sides of her face.
“What did you do?”
“Let’s just say all the cards are exposed on the table. And I advised the lawyers, yours and mine, of our rekindled relationship.”
He was leaning into her, and her jaw slackened as she sputtered, trying to respond with something intelligent.
“We didn’t rekindle anything. You fucked me against a wall; it was sex… just sex.” Although, and she knew it, the laws of the state were clear in divorce proceedings—no personal relations for a year before divorce can be filed. What a bastard! He used it.
“How could you?”
“Don’t look at me like that. I told you the divorce isn’t going to h
appen.” He relaxed a bit as he rested his hands on his slim hips, a package that looked darn good in the dark jeans he always wore.
“That is underhanded even for you, Richard.”
“Knock it off and drop this nonsense. You’re back here now where you belong, so put it behind you. What does it matter now anyway?”
This was incredible. She blinked at his arrogance. A side he didn’t show often, but one she knew existed. She stomped upstairs, muttering “arrogant asshole” under her breath. Her hair and disheveled appearance forgotten as she flung open the closet door in their bedroom, where they lay together every night and had since she returned.
She grabbed her overnight bag from the closet floor and tossed it on the neatly made bed. She pulled open the drawers where Richard had put away her clothes, and she yanked them out, stuffing what she could in the small bag.
She froze when she realized what he’d done. How could she forget Richard was a master at deflection? She nearly laughed, after all, she was no longer pursuing his mysterious meeting. So he did have something to hide. She knew it. There was a meeting. The question was with who and where? And what was it about?
Richard was a man of mystery, one of the qualities that drew her to him. But facts were facts. He no longer had the right to tell her what to do. She zipped up the black bag and hefted it over her shoulder. “Who the hell does he think he is…” She jumped as Richard loomed in the doorway, his eyes narrowed as he pushed away from the doorframe, taking slow predatory steps toward her.
“You’re not leaving so put the bag down.”
Her heart pounded, but it wasn’t from fear. There was something possessive about him that hadn’t been there when she’d needed it most. “You can’t tell me what to do.”
He stood so close she could feel his heartbeat as he cupped her face and then spliced his fingers through her messy hair. He lowered his head, the tension, the heat filling the space between them. His breath so warm and sweet, mixed with hers. He leaned closer, watching her, yet their lips barely touched. Her lips trembled wantonly until he touched hers. His message was clear, and she couldn’t help herself for leaning into his mind-blowing kiss. His hands slid down her back to her waist, skimming over her derriere, and then he lifted her. As she wrapped her legs around his waist, he walked to the bed. Their clothes disappeared in a frenzy. Richard’s possessive hands explored every inch of her in a fast hurried fury. Then he was inside of her, and it was hot, hard and fast. She urged him on, begging between their deepening kisses. They came together, both crying out the other’s name. His weight collapsed on top of her before he rolled to the side pulling her tight against him, sated, their legs tangled together, her muscles and her bones limp. She shut her eyes and floated away into the darkness, and slept.
From the Heart: Romance, Mystery and Suspense a collection for everyone Page 28
