But I did love him, and not only did I love him, I needed him. And I've never needed anyone before. I needed him to help me somehow mend the shredded soul my mother had taken such delight in destroying. I needed to feel his arms around me. I needed—
The door flew open and Seth’s eyes met mine in complete surprise. “Maggie, what are—” He grabbed me, pulling me inside.
I threw myself into his arms. “Kiss me,” I said, shocked by my own bluntness. He held me back, staring into my eyes for several moments.
“Maggie, what’s wrong? Did something happen to your mom?” His brows were knit tight with concern, but not desire.
“No! Please, kiss me.” I was begging him. How utterly pathetic. I tried to reach for his face, but he held my hands firmly down at my sides.
“Are those men after you?”
“No.” Defeated, I dropped my head onto his chest. I was totally alone. All his flirting was just that, flirting. I had allowed myself to fall in love with someone who didn’t return my feelings, who would never return my feelings. My mother was right. I am unlovable. I am nothing.
“Maggie, please,” he said, stroking my wet hair. “Tell me what’s wrong.”
For some reason he began shaking me. “Stop it, why are you shaking me?” My teeth chattered as I spoke.
“I’m not shaking you, you’re trembling.” My entire body was trembling. Seth scooped me up in his arms and carried me to a bench located next to the door. Pulling a blanket from off the edge of the bench, he wrapped it around my body and set me down on his lap. His hand vigorously rubbed my back in an effort to warm me up.
“What happened? Please, Maggie, you must know you can trust me by now.” I couldn’t stop shaking, and now felt as if I were in a dream. Everything began spinning, and I lowered my head onto his shoulder.
“Maggie!” He sounded frustrated. Could I trust him? I did feel safe here with him, even if he didn’t love, he was still my friend, if nothing else. My heart was about to explode with sorrow, and I began to cry again. He pulled me in closer. “Please,” he pleaded softly in my ear, “you can trust me.”
I couldn’t hold it in any longer, the hurt was too big. The bitter ugliness poured out of my mouth. I told him every horrible thing my mother had said, every horrible name she had called me, including that I was unlovable. Crying harder now, my breath began jerking painfully in my chest.
“It’s not true, Maggie.” The anger in his voice was unmistakable. He gently wiped the tears from my face, caressing my cheek in the act.
“Mmmm, your hand… hah… is … hah… really warm.” While pressing my face into his hand, I tried to steady my breathing.
“No, Maggie, you’re really cold.”
He leapt up and carried me up the stairs, rushing me through a bedroom and into a huge bathroom. He set me down in a chair next to the biggest bathtub I had ever seen. He started filling it with hot water as billowy white steam clouds danced through the air.
“What are you... hah... doing?” I was feeling disoriented and closed my eyes.
“You’re going to take a hot bath. Your body temperature is dropping, and we have to get it back up. Do you like bubble baths?”
“I don’t know, I’ve... hah… never had a bath, at least not that... hah... I can remember. We have a shower… hah… in the trailer.” My teeth were chattering, and my stupid breath was still catching. Seth’s brows pulled together in a frown once more.
“Bubbles. Girls like bubble baths.”
I wanted to ask how he knew that, and maybe suggest it was a sexist thing to say, but my energy level was rapidly depleting. I was also curious to know why he had bubble bath in the house except the image of Hillary in this tub was more than I could handle at the moment. I shoved it out of my head.
He knelt in front of me, unwrapping the blanket, and removing my ragged sweater. He tossed both next to the door. “Where’s the coat and new shoes we bought for you?”
We bought? “I left in a… hah… hurry.” His jaw tightened as he removed my shoes. Still dizzy, I leaned back against the counter for balance. He unbuttoned my shirt and pulled me next to him to slide it down and off, setting me back against the counter again.
“I’m going to go outside the door. Take off your jeans and tank top and hand them out to me. Can you get into the tub by yourself?”
“Yes,” I said, standing up and immediately falling over. He caught me around the waist.
“Are you sure?”
“I don’t really have many… hah… options, do I?” I steadied myself with the counter. Seth picked up the things he had already taken off me, closing the door behind him as he went out.
I started peeling off my wet jeans. Since I was shivering, and the jeans were drenched from the heavy snow, the task wasn’t easy. Seth’s knocking on the door every ten seconds to ask if I was all right didn’t help much either. I finally managed to remove the rest of my clothing, handed them discreetly out the door, and climbed into the bubble bath. I sighed aloud as I sunk down into the mountain of bubbles. I couldn’t remember ever experiencing anything so enjoyable. Seth had to be right about girls liking bubble baths, this girl certainly did.
Slowly, very slowly, the shivering stopped as my body warmed, though my toes and fingers stung painfully in the process.
“Maggie, how are you doing?”
“Better thanks.” I was also grateful my breathing had returned to normal.
“I have some warm broth I want to bring in. Are there enough bubbles to keep you covered?”
“Yes.” I sank down deep into the tub until only my face peaked through. He entered with his eyes closed and walked over, never once peeking, and handed me the cup of broth.
“Thanks, for everything,” I said, taking the broth from him.
“You’re welcome.” He started to leave, and without looking back added, “Your mother is wrong, Maggie, you know that, right?” I didn’t say anything. I couldn’t out of fear I’d start crying again. “I’ll be downstairs when you’re done. If the bath gets cold, just add more hot water, and don’t fall asleep in the tub. I don’t think you’d like it much if I had to drag your naked body out of there and give you mouth to mouth resuscitation.” There was a definite twist of humor in his voice as he shut the door.
I added hot water twice and caught myself falling asleep twice. I decided to get out before Seth did indeed have to come in and rescue me.
Even though the bathroom was well heated, the air was much colder than the hot water, and I immediately started shivering again. Having no clothes, I wrapped myself up in a huge towel. I also couldn’t stop yawning. I timidly opened the door that led into the bedroom he had carried me through earlier.
The room was lovely. Along one wall was a magnificent antique armoire with beveled-mirrored doors. The far wall had a huge bay window with a built in bench-seat beneath it. A long slit of daylight peaked through the oatmeal colored, lace curtains ranging in the window. A huge antique brass bed sat centered along the inside wall. It was quite tall and had a small wooden step next to it, presumably for help getting up into it. A silky, deep green quilt laid spread across the length. I gave way to another yawn just looking at it.
“I’ll lie down for a few minutes until Seth comes back with my clothes. I doubt he’ll mind.” I climbed up onto the big bed, dropping the towel onto a chair next to the bed so as not to get the bedding wet, and crawled beneath the soft quilt. The bed felt every bit as soft as it looked, and I sank into it, tugging the quilt around me, cocoon like. It felt wonderful. Suddenly remembering why I was in this big wonderful bed, I curled up on my side, shut my eyes tight, and refused to let my mother’s voice enter my head.
***
“Maggie. Maggie.” I felt someone rubbing my arm and calling my name, only the voice didn’t sound like my mom’s voice. I forced my eyes open.
“Seth!” I sat up quickly, and the quilt slid down my shoulder, my bare shoulder. I quickly tugged it back up.
“I’m na
ked!”
“Yes, you are.” Seth smiled mischievously. He was sitting on the edge of the bed.
“Why, how—” Confused, I looked around the room and it came back to me, all of it. I sank back down onto the bed, pulling the quilt over my head.
“How are you feeling?” He pulled the quilt away from my face, exposing my eyes.
“I’m feeling naked.” I pulled the quilt around me tighter. “Is this is your bed?”
“Yup, I know it’s not a four poster mahogany bed, but I like it.” He smiled softly. The rumors about him and Hillary were a lie. “When was the last time you ate something?”
“Yesterday. I finished the last of the leftover rice dish for lunch.” I watched as his face clouded in anger.
“Can I ask why? What about the two lunches I gave you earlier?”
“My mom, when she was talking to me, she was upset. She thought I used her money to buy them, and she tossed them across the room.”
He silently rose off the bed, pulled out a sweatshirt and some sweatpants from the armoire, laying them on the foot of the bed. “Your clothes are almost dry. Put these on, they should keep you warm. You can change into your things after dinner.”
“If those sweats fit, I’m never eating again.” I smiled, hoping the grave expression would leave his face.
He tossed a thick pair of white socks onto the bed next to the sweats. “The pants have a draw string waist, so you should be able to tighten them enough to stay up.” His face softened. “Do you want chicken, chicken, or chicken to eat?”
“Darn, I was hoping for chicken.” I slumped down on the bed, feigning disappointed.
“You must be feeling better.”
16
Seth
Walking down the stairs to prepare dinner, I thought about Maggie standing at my door just over three hours ago. It took all I had not to pull her into my arms and kiss her. There she stood with her wet, snow-packed clothes plastered to her malnourished frame and those hapless blues eyes driving tears down her waxy hollowed cheeks, begging me to kiss her. Everything inside me screamed, ’Hurry, before she changes her mind!’ Nevertheless, I didn’t!
“Yup, I deserved a medal.”
But the last thing she needed was to have me slobbering all over her, not that I was a bad kisser. Well, I didn’t think I was, I mean, I’d never had any complaints. Anyway, it wasn’t what she needed. She needed a refuge from the storm, a place to feel secure, and someone to reassure her she wasn’t an unlovable nothing.
Those brutal words rode roughshod over me. How could a mother be so heartless? Coming from a loving home, I struggled to understand that kind of cruelty from a parent. My mom and dad would have done anything for me. We certainly weren’t the perfect family, but I knew I was loved. Always. No matter what.
I gathered Maggie’s clothes from the dryer and started to take them up to her before deciding against it. My gut told me she was regretting her decision to come here, and even more so she was lamenting having shared what her mother had said. If I took her clothes up to her now, she’d make up some lame excuse about why she had to leave, and I wasn’t about to let her leave until she had some food. Until she had a lot of food.
I set the clothes down on the end of the counter, picking up the phone as it rang.
“Hey, Seth, how’s she doing?”
“Hello, Cole.” I called him after getting Maggie situated in the tub. When she started shivering, I knew I had to act fast before hypothermia kicked in.
“Better. My nerves wouldn’t settle down until I went in and found her sound asleep. I’m happy to report her ashy colored cheeks are now a soft rosy pink.”
“Good, let her sleep for a while.”
“She’s up now. I’m going to feed her some dinner.” I debated whether to wake her, and if it not for the purple shadows under her eyes, I wouldn’t have. She was half-starved. I had no idea how she’d managed to keep going on what little she ate. I’d spent hours trying to figure out a way to get more food into her, but couldn’t come up with anything short of embarrassing her. She’s the most guarded person I’ve ever met.
“Great. Make it something high in protein and fattening. The poor kid’s nothing but skin and bones,” Cole said, echoing my thoughts.
“I’m making my chicken stir fry. It was what we ate on New Year’s Eve, sound good?” I decided to make it because of the sauce. Not only did it call for an entire cube of butter, it also had a cup each of cream and coconut milk and some sesame oil. It was undeniably high in calories. Booker and Cole complained every time I’d made it. They’d gorge themselves, then blame me because they’d have to up their workout route for the next week.
“It certainly should put some meat on her,” he laughed. “And remember, the next time someone has hypothermia, you shouldn’t dump them in a tub of hot water. Warm them up slowly, preferably with your own body heat.”
“I don’t know, Cole. I can’t imagine she’d’ve liked it if I were to try and strip her naked so we could crawl under a blanket together.”
He laughed. “Point taken, though you could’ve used heating pads and hot water bottles.” I hadn’t thought of that. “Hate to cut you off, but I’m being paged. If you need me, call my cell.”
“Alright. Thanks.”
“Oh, one more thing. If you have any leftovers, save some for me.”
I removed the chicken breasts from the marinade they’d been basting in and arranged the strips neatly on a plate. Placing some fresh ginger on the cutting board, I began shaving off a few thin slices of the yellow root.
“Her mother doesn’t deserve her!” I muttered angrily, shaving a much too large chunk off and nearly gashing my finger open.
Anger! It happened every time I thought of Barbara Brown. She was one very nasty woman. I kept telling myself she was sick and not in her right mind, but remembering Maggie standing in my doorway, brokenhearted and shivering, made it a little tough to remain objective.
I wondered if she knew Maggie had gotten a full ride scholarship to Stanford, or that she had turned it down to attend the local community college here in the area instead. I wasn’t the least bit surprised when Maggie’d told me about it. “How could I take care of my mother if I were clear across the country,” she’d said.
Maggie was the antithesis of her mother.
I snagged a slice of red pepper and slipped it into my mouth as Maggie descended the stairs dressed in my over-sized clothes, looking very self-conscious. The sleeves were rolled up on the gray sweatshirt and the waistband hit her mid-thigh.
The sweatpants were huge, and judging from the large bulge that was under the sweatshirt, I guessed that she’d cinched them up quite a bit. Despite the fact that she’d rolled up the legs, they still pooled around her ankles. She looked wonderful. I watched as she timidly came down the stairs, checking out her surroundings.
This part of the house was where Booker and I had done the most renovating. The dark cherry railing and intricate hand-carved spindles along the staircase were a real pain to install, but it was worth it, they looked terrific. The staircase curved around and was open on each side.
To the right lay the family room, one of Booker’s old girlfriends helped me decorate it. In the center of the room was an overstuffed deep green couch with several plush burgundy pillows and a gold microfiber throw angled across one corner. At first, I wasn’t too keen on having the blanket and a bunch of pillows lying around, but after she’d arranged everything, it looked pretty good.
A small round cherry table holding a phone and a brass reading lamp was positioned on the right side of the couch and a matching oversized man-chair, as I liked to call it, was angled inward on the other end.
A large, flat-screen TV clung to the wall above a glass-enclosed fireplace. I wanted a bigger TV except there wasn’t enough room. On the other side of the fireplace stood a cherry cabinet with ornate glass doors, filled with DVD’s. Gathered burgundy drapes hung in the bay window on the far wall. The family ro
om joined a huge kitchen at the bottom of the grand staircase.
The kitchen was my favorite room with black slate countertops and tall cherry cabinets Booker had built. I had numerous copper and silver pans, along with a large cast iron frying pan hanging from a baker’s rack suspended from the ceiling. It looked as if the area was set up for a chef, not a high school senior, which it was.
In the middle of the kitchen stood a huge island cabinet and four wooden bar stools with padded dark leather seats. Several inset lights spread liberally across the ceiling lit up the kitchen, as did the accent lights running across the cupboard tops.
“This is so beautiful,” she said quietly.
“Thanks.” I washed off the Portobello mushrooms and placed them on the cutting board. “I decided on chicken, I hope that’s okay with you.”
“Goofball.”
“I heard that, Mags.” I ran my eyes over her again. “Don’t you look like a sexy beast in those clothes?”
“Yeah, I’ve had at least ten proposals of marriage just walking down your stairs.”
“I hope you turned them all down. You’re mine.” I smiled and wagged my eyebrows, testing the waters. I was curious to see if she’d thrown the walls back up around her, something she was very good at.
“Give it a rest, Seth.” Yup, they were back up. “Sorry, I didn’t mean to snap. I’m just not in the mood for flirting.”
“Here.” I handed her a piece of French bread I’d bought earlier. She sat on a stool and devoured it with a look of euphoria on her face. I felt the anger once more licking at my insides as I watched her. I quickly handed her another piece when she’d finished, which she ate with the same zeal.
She walked over next to me and picked up a water chestnut. “What can I do to help?”
“Nothing, have a seat. Would you like more bread?”
She rolled her eyes. “Seth, I’m fine.” She curled her arms up into a flexing pose, showing off her muscles, or rather the pretend muscles, in her arms. “I’m a tough cookie.”
Unlovable Page 17
