“Not hungry. Thirsty.” Lisa sipped from her glass.
“If I make dinner, you're eating it.”
~~~
Maggie's cell phone finally rang at 8:52. It was the same number she had called Jarrett at. She was ready. She had planned what she would say. She was going to stay calm and in control of this conversation.
The phone rang once. Twice. Three times.
Lisa glanced up from the fashion magazine on her lap. “So are you going to answer it?” She lifted one bleached eyebrow. “It's going to go to message.”
Maggie answered the phone. “Hello.”
“I wondered how long it would take you to pop up,” Jarrett said.
No “Hello, Maggie, how are you?” No “How have you been these last fifteen years?” Just anger.
Maggie was surprised by the trip in her heart at the first sound of his voice after all this time. She remembered it as if only yesterday he had held her close in the front seat of his red Mustang and whispered that he’d love her forever.
“I hoped you’d have the good sense to stay away,” he continued, making no attempt to hide his bitterness. “I hoped. I prayed. But I guess I should have known better.”
“Jarrett,” she said, trying to keep her voice steady as her heart pounded, “we need to talk.”
“Nothing to talk about.”
She gripped the phone. “Jarrett, she’s my daughter, too.”
“You should have thought about that fifteen years ago when you put her up for adoption without telling me.”
His comment stung, but she refused to be baited. They weren’t teenagers anymore. She was an adult now and this was her daughter. “Jarrett, I didn’t know you had her.”
“Because I didn't want you to know. Because I didn't want this phone call.”
He wasn’t making this easy for her—not that she’d expected him to. But his anger was intimidating. He was intimidating. He was Taylor’s father. He had raised her from a newborn. He’d fed her, changed her diapers, bought her first bra. Jarrett was everything to Taylor and Maggie was nothing. No one.
Maggie paced the floor; the doors were open to let the breeze off the ocean in. “Jarrett, I think we should talk in person.”
“I told you, I don’t want to talk to you. I don’t want you to talk to Taylor. I don’t want you near her.”
Somewhere in the depths of the anger in his voice, Maggie heard fear. Did she blame him? If someone was trying to take her Jordan, she’d be petrified. Of course, that didn’t make sense. He had been taken from her.
Maggie forced herself to focus on her conversation with Jarrett. “I want to see just you,” she said carefully. “At least for now.”
“Maybe I should call my lawyer.”
“I’ve already called mine.”
There was silence on the phone.
Maggie hated to use legal threats, but she wouldn’t be brushed aside. This was too important, too vital to resurrecting her shattered life.
“When do you want to meet?”
“Now,” Maggie heard herself say. “If that’s all right. I’m only a few blocks from your parents’ old place.”
He paused. “Taylor’s at a movie with a friend, but I have to pick them up at the theater in an hour.”
“Give me five minutes,” she said quickly. “Just five minutes of your time.”
“Meet me at Boat Drinks off the boardwalk in fifteen minutes.”
Before she could reply, he hung up.
Maggie carefully set down the phone.
“So?” Lisa said as if she hadn’t heard the entire conversation from two feet away.
“He’s going to meet me in fifteen minutes. A bar.”
“Oh, no!” Lisa leaped out of the chair. “Fifteen minutes?” She grabbed Maggie’s hand and pulled her off the couch. “You’re going to have to hurry.”
“Hurry for what?” Maggie dragged her feet. “It’s just down off the boardwalk. A five-minute drive, even with finding a place to park.”
“You’ve got to hurry and change and get rid of that cheerleader ponytail.”
Maggie glanced down at her khaki cord beach shorts and brushed her hand over her short ponytail. “What’s wrong with the way I’m dressed?”
Lisa pushed Maggie into the master bath and reached for the rubber band that held back the offending ponytail. “What’s wrong with it? You look like a teenage beach bum. I wouldn’t return a lost puppy to a woman looking like you do right now.”
Maggie lifted her gaze to the mirror to meet Lisa’s.
Return a lost puppy.
Her words hung in the cool, evening air.
Is that what this is about? Maggie asked herself. I want my lost baby returned and anyone will do? How pathetic.
But no. That wasn’t it. Jordan was gone. She knew that. Nothing and no one could bring him back. She couldn’t change the past. She couldn’t bring him back to life or return her infant daughter to her arms. But maybe, just maybe, she could alter the future. Maybe she could hold Taylor in her arms now.
~~~
Maggie recognized Jarrett immediately, yet he looked so different from she anticipated that she stopped inside the doorway. She had expected a businessman/lawyer type like the guy in the photo: short-cropped blond hair, khaki walking shorts, a polo shirt, loafers—a man who shopped in stores like Kyle’s. The man in the photo on the Internet.
Instead he was dressed in an old pair of corduroy beach shorts similar to the ones she’d just shed. He was wearing a faded T-shirt with the name of a surfing company emblazoned across the front. His sun-bleached hair was shaggy and sorely in need of good cut. He looked older than in the photo, too. Had raising their daughter aged him so?
But he was still handsome, still the boy/man she had fallen in love with so many years ago.
Maggie felt foolish. Surely she didn’t still harbor feelings for him after all this time—not after what he’d done to her.
She walked up to the booth where he waited. “Jarrett.”
He didn’t look up. “Maggie.”
He didn’t offer her a seat, either. He had a beer; a local brew, Dogfish Head.
She slid onto the bench across from him and set her keys on the narrow table between them. “Thanks for seeing me tonight.”
He lifted his head, his blue eyes meeting hers—the same eyes she’d lost herself in years ago. “Let’s just cut the friendly chitchat, shall we? What do you want?”
He had been angry on the phone, but now he was downright hostile.
“What do I want?” She tried to collect her disengaged thoughts, remember her rehearsed speech.
“Yes, what do you want? You called me. You obviously want something.”
Okay, so this was how it was going to be—no small talk, no sense of old friendship. He wasn’t going to cut her a break.
She looked him straight in the eyes. “I want to see my daughter.”
He slapped his hand on the table. “Absolutely not.”
Instinctively she drew back at the loud smack. He was angry? So was she. “She’s my daughter.”
“You gave her up. You gave her away.” He gripped the beer bottle so tightly she thought he might break the glass.
“No, I didn’t.”
He glanced up at her again, his voice thick with sarcasm. “You didn’t?”
“No. I didn’t,” she said firmly. “That baby was taken from me. The adoption was illegal. I never signed any adoption papers.”
He gave a snort. “That’s what they all say.”
“Well, they all may say it,” she countered, “but in this case it’s true. Your adoption of my daughter was illegal. And should I be able to prove it—which I can— that would mean you took my child from me illegally. That would mean I have a right to file for custody myself.”
He looked like he was holding his breath. “You wouldn’t dare.”
She held his gaze. She didn’t want to take Taylor from her father; she really didn’t. She only wanted a little pie
ce of her. She just wanted to get to know her, to have her get to know her own mother. But Jarrett didn’t have to know that—not yet, at least. If he wanted to play hardball, she could play hardball.
She reached for her keys, as if the discussion was over. “If you won’t be reasonable, I don’t have any other choice.”
Chapter 9
“Maggie, wait.”
Maggie couldn’t really take Taylor from him, could she? He wanted to believe she couldn’t. Their daughter had been with him for the first fifteen years of her life. The thought that her birth mother could step in now was ludicrous.
But he read the newspapers, watched news reports. Children were returned to birth parents, even birth parents who were homeless or had drug addictions. Nothing in today’s legal system was considered ludicrous any longer. In a world where common sense no longer prevailed, anything was possible.
“You wouldn’t really try to take her away from me, would you?” Jarrett met her gaze and saw a flash of the Maggie he had known. He was certain that, at least for an instant, she understood his fear. “I’m the only parent she’s ever known.”
“And I want to rectify that.” She withdrew her hand from her keys and sat down again.
Jarrett heaved a silent sigh of relief. She hadn’t said she wouldn‘t sue for custody, but it sounded as if she wanted to be reasonable. Maybe she was just threatening him because she felt he’d backed her into a corner. For Taylor, he’d do the same thing in a minute.
Jarrett took a sip of his beer and tried to rein in his emotions. Over the years he’d planned what he would do, what he would say, if Maggie ever showed up on his doorstep. But when he’d gone over the possibilities in his mind, he hadn’t taken into account the feelings that would accompany her arrival.
Seeing Maggie like this after all these years brought a flood of feelings he didn’t want to deal with right now—ever, if he could help it. He had expected to be angry with her. What he hadn’t expected was the strange tightening in his chest.
No woman had ever touched his heart the way Maggie had, not in all these years. Over the years, he had told himself it was like that for everyone; there never was a love like the first. But what if she had been different? Maybe their love had been different, too. He didn’t know. He never would.
“Tell me what you want,” he said, not looking at her this time. She was still so damned beautiful, with her pale red hair and freckles across her nose and cheeks. Older, certainly more mature-looking, but maybe more beautiful than he remembered.
“I want to see Taylor. I want to get to know her and let her get to know me.”
“Why?” He rested both hands on the table. He tasted his bitterness again. “Why now, after all these years?”
She took so long to answer that he glanced up at her and then wished he hadn’t. Her face was taut, her eyes bright and wide. For a moment he thought she might start to cry. He didn’t want to share whatever pain was reflected in her eyes—didn’t want to know, didn’t want to care.
She held it together; she didn’t cry.
“Why do I want to see her? Lots of reasons. The biggest, though”—she paused and swallowed—“is that I’ve gotten to a point in my life where I want to make changes. Things didn’t go the way I’d thought they would.” There was a catch in her voice. “I know I can’t change the past with Taylor, but I’d like to think I can change the future.”
He drained his glass. He knew he shouldn’t speak to Maggie without first contacting his lawyer, but he was a simple man living a complicated life. He liked to keep things as easy as possible when he could. He noticed that she wasn't wearing a wedding ring.
“Maggie, this is going to be hard. Taylor . . .” He let his daughter’s name hang in the air between them. He didn't know quite what to say. A jukebox played in the background and the smell of cheeseburgers wafted from the swinging kitchen door near the bar.
“She what?”
He settled on the truth. “She doesn’t know you’re alive.”
“Doesn’t know I’m alive?”
He glanced at her over the rim of his empty beer mug, thinking maybe the truth wasn’t always best. His father had always told him it wasn’t always necessary to say the first thing that came to his mind.
“What would you have done if you’d been in my shoes? Would you tell your child that her mother gave her up for adoption because she didn’t want her, or would you tell her that her mother died? Which would be easier for both of you—certainly less painful?”
Maggie sat back, crossing her arms over her chest.
He was right and she knew he was right. He recognized the look on her face.
“You told her I was dead? How’d you kill me off?” There was a tone of sarcasm in her voice. “Childbirth, I suppose?”
“No.” He stayed cool, trying his damnedest to be distant. “I didn’t want her to blame herself. I told her you were killed in a car accident.”
Maggie gave a little laugh, but it caught in her throat and came out something like a sob.
Jarrett didn’t know what was going on with Maggie, but he knew there was more than she was saying. Coming here now after all this time wasn’t just a case of making amends.
He hesitated. “She’s going to be angry with me,” he told her.
“She should be.”
“At both of us. Very angry.”
“Maybe you should have thought of that when you chose not to tell her the truth.”
“I should have thought of that when she was three? When she was watching Sesame Street and learning to put her own shoes on?” He sat back on the bench and flicked a piece of wet napkin across the table. “Yeah, right.” He leaned forward again. “Clearly Maggie you don’t understand what it’s like raising a child. You do what you think is best at every moment, at every fork in the road, and it seems as if there’s one about every five minutes. You know, no one sent a care manual home with her from the hospital. I did what I thought was right at the time.”
“I do understand,” she said quietly.
She was looking at her hands. He noticed she wore no wedding ring, but she wore no rings at all. That didn’t mean she wasn’t married. The tone of her statement led him to believe she had children, but he wasn’t sure. “You do?”
She smiled a smile he remembered, one that had once made him warm inside. “I think all parents wish they’d come home with a manual.”
He glanced at her ring finger again. Not even the indentation of a ring. Maybe divorced? “You have children, too?”
He had told himself on the way over here he wouldn’t ask Maggie any personal questions. He was determined not to ask her any of the things he wanted to know, any of the things he’d thought about over the years. But he couldn’t help himself.
“I did.” She fiddled with her keys. “A son, Jordan. He was killed a few months ago in an automobile accident.”
“God, I’m sorry, Maggie.” Jarrett deflated, feeling like an ass. His respect for her swelled. If Taylor died, he would shrivel up and die, too. But not Maggie. She’d survived.
“His father?” he asked.
“My husband was killed, too.”
Silence hung between them for a moment, and then she glanced up. He was thankful she spoke so he wouldn’t have to. He didn’t know what to say. He felt like a complete jerk. Then he was angry that she was making him feel that way.
“Listen, I’m not telling you about that to make you feel sorry for me. My family’s death doesn’t really have anything to do with Taylor. I mean it does, but it doesn’t. Before the accident I wanted to find her, too. I just ... I guess I didn’t have the courage.”
Jarrett was torn emotionally. He wanted fiercely to hang on to Taylor, keep every bit of her for himself. He was angry with Maggie—no, furious with her—for abandoning Taylor at birth. For abandoning him. But somewhere deep inside he wondered if it would be better for Taylor if she knew Maggie, maybe just a little.
Jarrett ran his fingers through hi
s hair, which was still sticky with salt water. He hadn’t had time for a shower. “I’m not sure what the best way to handle this is. I’ll have to contact my lawyer.”
She nodded. “I understand. I was hoping I could just meet her.” She glanced up. “You wouldn’t even have to tell her who I am for now.”
He wanted to say “no”. He wanted to walk out the door and call his lawyer. But something made him hesitate. Something in him made him consider the proposal. He had to do what was best for Taylor—not for him, not for Maggie.
“What, you just want to show up for dinner?”
She shrugged. “If you like. You could tell her I’m an old friend—which would be true. It doesn’t have to be dinner, or your house. We could go to the boardwalk, play some games, eat some fries.” A faint smile played across her lips; lips he still remembered. “Don’t fifteen-year-old girls play Skee-ball and eat fries?”
“By the bucket.”
She picked up her keys and slid out of the booth. “Well, I’d better let you get going. You don’t want to leave Taylor waiting for you.”
“When do you want to do this?”
“You tell me. I work the next three evenings, but then I’m off for two. Would Wednesday night work for you?”
“I suppose.”
“Next to Thrasher's on the avenue and boardwalk, say six?”
“We’ll be there.”
She started to walk away, and he called after her. He didn’t know why he couldn’t resist. “Hey, Maggie.”
“Yes?” She turned around.
Her hair was shorter than it had been when they’d dated and there were tiny lines around her eyes, but she was the same Maggie who had kept him awake nights long after she was gone from his life.
“Where do you work—in case I need to contact you before then?”
“Talbany General.”
He watched the door swing shut behind her. He didn’t have to ask if she’d become a doctor. He already knew the answer, because he lived with a female who was every bit as determined as Maggie had been.
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