by Mary Davis
“Turn around, turn around,” Mom was staring out the window raptly.
“What is it?”
Bruce checked for traffic and made a U-turn.
“You’ll see.” Her mother’s eyes were bright with excitement. “Turn, turn right here.”
Bruce made the turn onto the dirt driveway and slowed to a stop.
“Ohhh, it’s perfect!”
Meghann turned from her excited, cooing mother to study the sprawling Victorian-style house laid out before her. Though the house itself was settled in the middle of a large clearing, the forest circled it like a cozy blanket. The house was older but had a beauty, character, and charm all its own. The porch stretched across the entire front and wrapped around the length of one side. The roof, windows, and porch awning were edged with delicate gingerbread cutout. But it was the surrounding acreage that intrigued her most. Plenty of land for Lucky to run and play in, trees, and even a small stream. It was like being far out in the country yet close to town.
Her mother was right; it was perfect. Perfect for a couple in love, for newlyweds looking for a place to call their own.
Neither of which applied to her and Bruce.
“Mom, we aren’t ready to buy a house.”
“You will be soon enough. We can at least look and get some ideas. This is just like those houses you used to cut out of magazines when you were a kid. Look! Someone’s even here.”
There was indeed a grungy old white pickup truck parked out front with tools and lumber in the bed. Before she could object, her mother was out of the car. Meghann turned to Bruce for help, and all she got was a helpless shrug. The sight of this beautiful dream house made her mother happy, exhilarated, even robust. What could it hurt to have a quick look around?
Daffodils and tulips sprang forth from the still cold ground, among the evergreen bushes and stick bushes awaiting spring’s kiss to bud and bare their leafy fruit. This yard would explode with life over the next few weeks, energizing everything around it. It had a life all its own, just needing someone to prune and pluck it lovingly.
There were a few poplar trees at the edge of the woods—she could tell by their distinctive white bark. A willow tree rested next to the rushing stream, the pine trees made an effective fence, and some scrub oak that could make anyplace look haunted. She’d have to wait until the leaves came out to figure out what the other trees were.
Wait? What are you talking about? You’ll never see this yard in its spring or summer splendor.
There were no leaves yet for the gentle breeze to rustle, but she could feel it on her sun-warmed face as she closed her eyes and listened. The rushing of water and birds returning from their winter vacation filled the air. But no traffic noise.
Hands settled down on her shoulders, causing her to jump. She felt silly for starting at Bruce’s touch, but she hadn’t expected him. She was in her own world.
“I’m sorry for scaring you.”
“You didn’t scare me; I was just surprised. I forgot I wasn’t here alone.”
“You like it here, don’t you?”
Meghann nodded, inspired by her surroundings. “Who wouldn’t? It’s perfect. Lucky would love to have all this room to run.”
“You want to have a look inside?” he asked. “Your mom talked the repairman into letting us in.”
She shouldn’t, she knew she shouldn’t. What was the point? But her answer jumped past her lips: “I’d love to!”
Once inside the kitchen where Meghann’s mother was waiting while examining the cabinets and appliances, the house took on a new charm. She wondered who the original occupants had been.
“I like this house,” her mother said, closing the dishwasher. “They don’t make houses like this anymore. This is just what you have always wanted.”
“I like it, too.” Bruce reached out to take Meghann’s hand. Once again his touch warmed her. If only it were real…if only he wanted to hold her hand, to be close to her…if only his affection and smiles weren’t all a part of the act.
She nonchalantly disengaged her hand from his and admired the kitchen cabinet’s workmanship. If she were going to survive the next three weeks with her heart intact, she needed to keep as much distance between them as possible.
“It’s nice,” she said cautiously.
Bruce scrutinized her. “Nice? Just nice? What could you possibly find at fault? Not enough bedrooms? Kitchen too small? What do you want in a house, Meg?”
He was siding with her mother. Why would he push for her opinion on a house? This house or any house?
“It’s just so big. We don’t need a house this large.” A quiet voice inside her was nudging her to tell the truth. “In fact…we don’t need a house at all.” With that said, she bit her bottom lip.
“But you said neither one of your current places was adequate to accommodate both your lives,” her mother said.
“What is it you are proposing, dear?” Bruce said with great interest.
“I’m just trying to be honest here.” She swallowed nervously, drilling him with a steely glare.
“Now is probably not the best time.”
Meg’s eyes widened at the pointed comment. “There is no time like the present,” she shot back.
“Then, by all means, go on.” Bruce crossed his arms over his chest and leaned back on the counter in resignation.
“Maybe you two could decide later,” her mother said and took hold of the counter for balance. “I suddenly feel spent, like someone pulled the drain plug and all my energy swooshed out.” She moved her hands in sweeping motion.
Meghann turned a startled look at her mother. She did look exhausted. Guilt swept Meg at the sight of her mother’s white face. She’d been so caught up in her subtle debate with Bruce that she hadn’t noticed how weary her mother was—and she’d missed her opportunity to tell the truth yet again.
She wondered why that last part didn’t bother her as much as it should. “I’m sorry, Mom. Let’s get you home.”
Chicken! That’s what she was. A big, fat chicken. She hated confrontations and avoided them if at all possible, and when her mother finally did hear the truth, sparks were bound to fly. She could count on it. It would be Fourth of July in April.
When Bruce came home midafternoon the next day, Gayle sat reading on the couch. Meg had left him a note on the entry table saying she went to check up on Lucky while her mother slept. If he had known, he would have stopped by just to be with her.
“I’m glad you came by while Meg is out. It gives us a chance to talk.” Gayle put her book aside as he slipped the paper in his pocket.
“Something special on your mind?” He sat on the couch near her. The air around him filled with the faint scent of fine leather as the cushion settled. He hoped she didn’t want to ask him something he couldn’t answer. Now he really wished he had stopped by Meghann’s cottage.
Gayle remained silent for a moment, staring across the room, gathering her thoughts.
“What can I do for you, Mom?” he asked, hoping to lighten her serious mood. She seemed to like it when he called her that. He wasn’t disappointed. A smile spread across her face. She liked having a son-in-law to call her Mom. She seemed to like having him in particular as a son-in-law. Hopefully that affection ran in the family.
She took a deep breath. “I want to apologize.”
Bruce could see she was honestly concerned about some breech she believed she caused. “For what?”
She turned toward him before she began. “For pushing Meg. For pressing her. For wanting to see her happily married before I died. For wanting to hold my grandkids.”
“Is that all?” he teased. “You should be ashamed of yourself.”
“I mean it. I can see the strain between you and Meg. You two are trying to cover it up, but I can see that things are not as well and fine as you want me to believe.”
Very perceptive. “Meg and I will be fine. All couples have to adjust to married life.”
She gave
a sorrowful sigh. “But if the wedding hadn’t been so rushed, it would be different.”
If there had been a wedding at all, it would be different.
“I know this must be hard on you, but I’m so glad my Meg found a man like you to marry. I know you’ll take good care of her. It means a lot to me.”
“It’s nothing.” Literally. “But I’m not sure what you mean by hard.”
“I can tell her feelings for you aren’t as deep as yours are for her. I’m afraid to say that she may have accepted your proposal and married you for my sake. Maybe you sensed that and took advantage of the opportunity. I don’t know. I don’t really want to know. It can’t be easy being in a one-sided love relationship.”
A moment of silence stretched between them. “Don’t get me wrong, Bruce. I have nothing against you. I couldn’t have picked a better son-in-law. I just wish I had been patient and not pushed. Let you two come together in your own time, that’s all.”
She was being so candid with him, painfully so. What could he say to ease her conscience?
“The truth will set you free…”
He wanted to tell the truth but didn’t quite know how to go about it. Blurt it out or ease into it? The last thing he wanted to do was cause some sort of setback in the woman’s recovery…or to damage the relationship Meg had with her mom.
No, Gayle was Meghann’s mom, and it wasn’t his place to say anything. But he wanted to. Oh, how he wanted to. Instead, he settled for giving as much as he could.
“I would never take advantage of Meg.” He almost added that he loved Meg too much to ever do anything to hurt her, but he stopped himself just in time. He wasn’t sure if what he felt was the beginning of love or not. He did know he would do almost anything to make Meghann happy.
Drawing a deep breath, he went on. “I’ve waited my whole life for Meghann. I’m not about to lose her now.” The words came out without forethought, but he realized they had a ring of truth to them. A loud ring, the more he listened.
Nine
MEGHANN WAS GOING TO DO IT. SHE WOULD TELL HER mother the truth. She had psyched herself up all morning and spent the afternoon practicing on Lucky, gathering her courage. She was ready. It was now or never.
She walked into the nook off the kitchen. “You, come with me.”
Bruce looked up from his computer screen and grinned. “Me?”
“Yes, you.”
“Just let me finish this one last e-mail, then I’m all yours, darling,” he said with a wink.
Though his fingers flew over the keys, she wished he would go faster. Her courage was ebbing. If he didn’t hurry, she would have none left.
“All done.” He rose in one fluid motion and came toward her.
Already?
“What can I do for you?” His smile was warm and open, and she nearly forgot her purpose in coming. She forced herself to focus. “Help me tell my mom the truth.”
His smile faded to uncertainty. “Of course.”
“I’m really going to do it this time.”
He bent his head forward slightly. “Okay. Let’s go.”
She didn’t move. “I mean, she looked really good this morning, full of energy. I think she’s ready to hear the truth.”
Bruce leaned closer. “But are you ready to tell it?”
She could smell his spicy cologne. Stay focused, Meghann. She took a deep breath to clear her mind. It was the wrong thing to do. She only succeeded in getting a stronger whiff of his cologne. “Yes, of course I am. That’s what this is all about. I wouldn’t be asking you to help me if I wasn’t ready.”
“Okay then.” He cocked his head to one side.
“Okay then, what?”
“Are you just going to stand around talking about it, or are you going to do it?” An easy smile played at the corners of his mouth.
“I’m going.” But she didn’t. She just stood there, staring up at him, motionless. It was just that her feet didn’t seem to want to move.
He put his hands on her shoulders, turned her around, and gave her a little push. He followed close behind to the living room where her mother sat.
“Can I talk to you for a minute, Mom?” Her stomach flipped end over end. She was finally going to put things right.
“Sure, honey.” Her mother’s gaze flickered from Meghann to Bruce and back again. Curiosity—and then concern—etched her features.
“Well, Mom—” she twisted her hands in her lap—“I’m not sure where to start.”
“The beginning is usually best.” Her mother’s tone was quiet, but calm.
I was born in—no, that’s too far back. It started when—no, no. Where exactly did this story begin?
“Mom, you remember back just before Christmas.” This was embarrassing. She should have done it without Bruce. She took a slow, deep breath. “… when I first told you about Bruce?”
Her mother looked worried. “Yes, dear, I remember. I was so happy for you. For both of you.” Her mom smiled up at Bruce, then leaned forward with her coffee mug outstretched, to set it on the table in front of her.
Meg nodded and started to speak again, but just then the bottom of her mother’s mug caught on the edge of the coffee table. A startled “Oh!” escaped her mother as half the dark brown liquid erupted from the mug, splashing on the table, the expensive leather of the couch, and the equally expensive rug.
“Oh no!” Meg jumped up, looking at Bruce. Bad enough she was ruining his month with these shenanigans, did she have to be responsible for ruining his apartment as well?
Her mother looked up at them, her eyes wide with distress. “I am such a clumsy old fool. I’m terribly sorry.”
“It’s okay,” Bruce reassured her.
“I’ll go get something to clean that up.” Meghann ran to the kitchen and seized several yards of paper towels. She hurried back into the room and knelt down, doing her best to mop up the mess. But the tremor in her hands made the task more difficult than it should be.
This wasn’t turning out right at all! She should have been almost finished with her tale of woe by now, almost free from this whole mess.
“I’m not normally so ungainly,” her mom said as she reached for a paper towel. “Let me help.”
“No, Mom. You just sit back on the couch. I’ll get it.”
“It’s my mess.”
“I said no!” Meg’s words came out angry, and she hung her head. She took a moment to calm herself, then looked back up at her mother. “Just take it easy and rest.”
“Meghann Rachel Livingston! I’m not an invalid. I am perfectly capable of cleaning up a little spill.” Her mother hadn’t spoken to her in that firm tone in years.
“You’re supposed to rest. Doctor’s orders.”
“You act as though I have one foot in the grave.”
Her mother’s flip remark stirred her turbulent emotions even more. “Must I remind you that a little more than a month ago you had? You almost died.” Her voice began to shake. “The doctor said you might not—” She swallowed hard. “They don’t even know what was really wrong with you. It could happen again at any time.”
The image of her mother on the precipice of death, balanced precariously, ready at any moment to fall in, terrified her. “I don’t want to lose you. You’re all I have.” She grabbed up the wad of paper towels and rushed back to the kitchen.
Why couldn’t things work out once in a while? Why couldn’t she get the truth out? And how long would it be before she was able to stop worrying about and being afraid for her mother?
She threw the mass of soggy towels into the sink with more force than she’d intended, watching with dismay when coffee splattered all over the counter.
“What a mess!”
“Are you okay?” Bruce said from behind her.
She spun around and nodded her head. Another lie.
He studied her, and the understanding in his gaze made Meghann want to weep. “Your mom is stronger than you think.”
Meghann
shook her head.
“I was ready. I really was. You saw that I was starting to tell her.”
He nodded. “I saw that, yes. And I saw your concern for your mother as well.”
She rubbed a hand over her aching temples. “I just wish I could get it out, get it over with. She needs to know.” She dropped her hand and met his gaze. “You deserve to be released from this whole, sorry affair.”
The smile that tugged at his lips, the odd longing she saw in his eyes, warmed her, even as they broke through her defenses. She felt a tear sneak down her cheek, and he reached out to take hold of her arms and pull her toward him. She was too weary to resist. She let him fold her against his chest, resting there in silence.
When he spoke, his voice was tender, almost a murmur, “Meg, don’t worry about me. I’m fine. Just relax. When the time is right, you’ll know it. And the time will be right. You’ll see.”
She hoped so. Because she didn’t think she could take much more.
Gayle went in her room and closed the door. She stared down at her hands and closed them into tight fists to stop their uncontrollable movement, then looked up at her reflection in the mirror. She had tried so hard to keep the trembling in her hands from Meg. The doctor said the shaking in her hands could worsen over time. But she didn’t want Meg to know. She didn’t want to taint her happiness with having her worry over her mother.
No, there was no reason to tell Meg what was happening. She had enough to deal with. Though neither Meg nor Bruce had said so, she could tell things weren’t right. The last thing she wanted to do was add to Meg’s struggles. She couldn’t do much about Meg’s marriage, but she could protect her daughter from worrying about her health.
Later that evening after dinner, Meg was relieved to see that her mother’s coloring was almost back to what it had been before her illness. She seemed cheerful and talkative—both good signs.
Bruce, on the other hand, was acting decidedly odd. His scrutiny of Meg had not wavered since she got back from playing with Lucky earlier. He’d been watching her, studying her. She wasn’t sure she liked the extra attention.
