Maggie's Baby

by Colleen French

  The three sat down to dinner, passing around bowls of pasta and sauce and salad. As they ate, they laughed and talked about nothing in particular. About halfway through the meal, when there was a lull in the conversation, Jarrett spoke.

  “Hey, Taylor, Maggie and I have something we want to talk to you about. Something kind of serious.”

  Taylor looked up from her big plate of salad. “What? You and Maggie have been dating secretly and you’re in love, want to get married, and want my permission?”

  Only Taylor laughed.

  Maggie stared at her plate, wishing she could be anywhere but there at that moment.

  “No, I mean it. This is serious, sweetie.” Jarrett took his time as he set down his fork, gathering his thoughts. Apparently he was the self-appointed spokesman, which was fine with Maggie. He knew their daughter better than she did. He would know what to say.

  He wiped his mouth with a paper napkin from a fast-food place, all Maggie had found in the cupboard. “I’m just going to come out and say this because I can’t think of any way to ease into it.”

  The teen stabbed at a piece of lettuce on her plate. “Okay, already, Dad. I’m listening. What could be so terrible?”

  “Taylor, I haven’t been entirely honest with you about your mom.”

  Taylor put down her fork, eyeing her father suspiciously. “My mother? You want to talk about my mother now?” She glanced at Maggie, then back at her father. “Right now?”

  He lifted his hand. “Hear me out. I did what I’ve always thought was right at the time. I’ve always told you that. But in the light of new . . . evidence, I’ve realized now that I was wrong, and I need to rectify the matter.”

  Maggie watched Taylor carefully. Her daughter was obviously confused. She had no idea where her father was headed.

  “Okay, Dad, out with it.” Taylor stared at her father. “You’re scaring me.”

  Jarrett glanced at Maggie, and his face was so full of torment that Maggie feared this was all a big mistake. She didn’t want to hurt Taylor or Jarrett; she just wanted to be a part of her daughter’s life.

  Jarrett must have sensed what Maggie was feeling because, to her amazement, he reached under the table and patted her bare knee.

  His small gesture of kindness gave her the courage to speak up. “Taylor, what your father is trying to tell you is that your mother is alive.” She looked directly into her daughter’s eyes because she couldn’t bear to look away. “And I’m your mother,” she finished softly.

  Taylor appeared stricken. She looked from Maggie to her father and back at Maggie again. “It’s not true,” she flared. “My mother is dead. She died in a car accident. I don’t have a mother, just my father. Daddy?” The teen’s eyes filled with tears as she looked to her father for affirmation.

  Maggie placed one hand on the table in Taylor’s direction. She didn’t dare touch her, but she wanted desperately to reach out to her. “Don’t worry, I’m not going to take you away from your father. I just want to—”

  “Nothing between you and I will change, Taylor,” Jarrett said firmly. “I love you and I will always—”

  Taylor flew out of her chair. “How could you?” she shouted. Her gaze fell on Maggie and then darted back to her father accusingly. “I don’t believe you!” She dashed at the tears filling her eyes. “I can’t believe you would do this to me.” She slammed the back of her chair and it struck the table. “I can't believe—” She ran down the hall.

  Maggie rose from her chair, tears brimming in her eyes.

  “No,” Jarrett said, laying one hand gently on her forearm. “Let her go. Let her be angry with us for a little while. She certainly deserves it. Let her get used to the idea, and then we’ll go in and talk to her.”

  Maggie walked to the glass doors that ran the length of the house and looked out on the beach. She was feeling pretty shaky. “Boy, when you said she was going to be mad, you weren’t kidding.”

  His chair scraped as he rose from the table. “She can be pretty emotional, but she’s a sensible kid. Just give her a little time and she’ll be all right.”

  Maggie fought her tears. “I hope this was the right thing to do,” she said, not sounding too confident. “Maybe it would have been better if we hadn’t said anything—if I hadn’t shown up.”

  “I don’t want to hear that.” Jarrett came up behind her and put his arms around Maggie.

  At first, his gestured startled her, but the feel of his embrace was so reassuring she couldn’t help but relax.

  “Every girl needs a mother,” he said quietly into her ear.

  They both stared out at the breakers, him looking over her shoulder. “And every girl deserves a mother like you.”

  His kind words struck her so hard that for a moment she thought she would burst into tears. But she didn’t.

  Instead, she just stood there, staring at the waves, enjoying the moment.

  She tried not to think about this touching, this camaraderie between her and Jarrett, or where it was going. She could only deal with one crisis at a time.

  Chapter 13

  Jarrett sat back in his plastic lawn chair on the deck outside his living room and propped his feet on the rail. He couldn’t see the ocean in the dark, but seeing it wasn’t necessary. He could hear its waves as they lapped on the shore, could smell it in the salty air, could feel the brackish spray carried on the night breeze. Out here on the balcony, surrounded by the ocean, he could sort things better in his mind.

  He glanced at Maggie sitting beside him, sipping a mug of Lipton tea he had made for her. He knew she preferred fancier teas, but it was all he had in the house. He made a mental note to pick up some tea next time he was in the grocery store.

  “So, what now?” Maggie asked, her voice sounding distant.

  Taylor’s reaction had hurt her, he could tell. Even though he’d warned her Taylor would be very angry, she was still bruised by the teen’s outburst.

  “What now?” He leaned further back in his chair. While Maggie’s liquid consolation was a comforting cup of tea, his was a bottle of microbrew beer. He tipped the bottle and let the cold, refreshing ale run down his throat.

  “Sure, what do we do? What do I do? Do I wait for Taylor to contact me? Do we make her see me whether she wants to or not? What do we do now that we’ve dropped this bomb into her lap? I hate to force her into anything she doesn’t want to do, but she’s not going to get to know me without seeing me.”

  “Right now I think the only way we could get her to see either of us would be to force her.” He grinned at Maggie over the rim of the bottle. If there was one thing he’d learned raising a child, it was that you had to have a good sense of humor. An adage of his grandmother’s often echoed in his head: It’s either laugh or cry, so you might as well laugh.

  She made a face at him. “Very funny.”

  Her expression made it clear that she didn’t see any humor in the situation, but she was trying to follow his lead and stay upbeat. He knew one thing for sure about Maggie: she was a survivor. Only a survivor could have lived in the household she’d grown up, been forced to give up her baby, and still managed to grow into a responsible, emotionally healthy adult. Only a survivor could have endured the death of her husband and second child and still been able to smile, to make others smile. He admired her. He didn’t know if he could have been as strong.

  “I’m serious. I don’t know what to do. Jordan was just a preschooler. I don’t have any experience with teenagers.”

  Her face changed when she mentioned her son. He saw the pain in the tiny lines around her mouth, heard the catch in her voice when she spoke his name.

  Jarrett had never known Jordan, but it broke his heart to think about the little boy. Whether he wanted to admit it or not, it broke his heart because it broke Maggie’s. And even after all these years, after her betrayal that cut so deeply he still bore the scars, he still cared about Maggie a great deal, and the idea was scaring the heck out of him.

&nbs
p; He stared out over the rail. “As the father of a teen, let me tell you —there is no such thing as experience with teenagers.”

  “Jarrett, you’re not being particularly helpful here,” she chastised, but not angrily. “Taylor’s upset. I’m upset. You’ve got to be upset. I mean, it’s not as if you were expecting me to walk into your life like this.”

  “You can say that again.” He nodded and finished the beer. He had dreamt of it, but certainly never expected it. If she only knew how he’d longed for her in those first days with a crying, colicky infant and no one to keep him company in the middle of the night but the hosts and hostesses on infomercial TV.

  She eyed him. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

  A part of him wanted to brush over his own comment and what it implied, but a part of him wanted to come clean. They were adults now, not teenagers. He ran a multimillion-dollar company; he had hundreds of employees. Surely he could tell a woman he had feelings for her.

  He brushed her bare foot with his. “Come on, Maggie. You know exactly what I mean. Tell the truth. You didn’t expect to be attracted to me after all these years, either.”

  Maggie looked too stunned to speak. Was she surprised he would admit he was attracted to her, or wasn’t she in the least bit attracted to him? That thought hadn’t occurred to him. He thought he’d felt caring in her touch, heard it in the tone of her voice whenever they spoke to or saw each other. But maybe he had gotten his wires crossed. If she wasn’t attracted to him, he was making a complete jerk of himself.

  “I . . .” she stammered. “Well, I wouldn’t say—”

  “I’m not saying we have to do anything about it,” he interrupted quickly, still not sure if her reluctance was in admitting she still cared for him. “I’m not saying we would want to. I’m just saying it’s a fact, and I wasn’t expecting it.” He frowned, feeling more foolish by the second. He was already knee-deep into this conversation; he figured he might as well go in with chest waders. “You are attracted to me aren’t you, Maggie?”

  She started to say something and then stopped. “Are you always this blunt?”

  “Truthfully? Yeah, I suppose I am. I’m pushing forty. I’ve got a company to run and a teenager who makes me crazy when I’m not loving her half to death.” He wove his fingers together and cracked his knuckles. “I don’t have time for nonsense.” And I don’t have time to be hurt by you again, he thought. “Not in my business life and certainly not in my personal life.”

  Jarrett waited; she didn’t speak. “Have I spoken out of line here?” he asked after long, awkward minutes passed. “What I mean is, does your silence mean you don‘t feel this thing between us? Because if that’s true, I’m going to feel mighty foolish here in another minute or two.”

  Maggie set down her mug and rose from the chair to lean on the salt-treated wooden rail and gaze out into the darkness. “Jarrett, my husband hasn’t been dead very long.”

  She did care about him. He could hear it in the brittle tone of her voice. Against all reason, his heart gave a little kick. It had to be true what people said—a man never got over his first love. He knew he hadn’t. He'd dated other women over the years, of course. Come close to marrying one, but . . . the truth was, no one had ever been able to touch his heart the way Maggie had. And, in the end, he'd decided he'd rather be alone than settle.

  “I understand that. But, Maggie, feelings aren't logical. They don’t follow any rules of social etiquette.” He rose and stood beside her. On impulse, he covered her hand with his. Part of him was still so damned angry with her, but part him wanted her. Needed her. He needed her to fill the void she had left in his heart so many years ago. “I’m not saying we have to do anything about it; I’m just saying my feelings for you—my unexpected feelings—could complicate your relationship with Taylor.”

  Her hand was warm beneath his, stirring feelings and desires he thought he’d gotten over long ago. Jarrett didn’t want to consider the possibility he and Maggie could reconcile. A loving relationship and a mother for his daughter? It was too big a dream, too sure a disaster in the making. She had broken his heart once. He wasn’t certain he could bear to have his heart split in two again.

  Jarrett felt Maggie’s hand tighten beneath his as she gripped the rail harder. “Yes,” she said softly.

  He thought he knew what she meant, but he had to hear it from her own mouth. He couldn’t rely on his own interpretations of her words and actions any longer. “Yes, what?”

  “Yes, I’m attracted to you,” she said in a small voice. “I didn’t expect it, and, I'll be honest, it scares me, but ...I am.”

  So she was as fearful as he was. Somehow he found that consoling. He patted her hand, his pat becoming a gentle caress. “Isn’t that what being adults is all about? Being scared half to death most of the time?”

  He brushed his fingers across the back of her hand, down her fingers. “I know that’s the case when it comes to raising a daughter.” He lifted his hand and rested it on her far shoulder. “Well, I’ve been thinking about this even if you haven’t,” he continued, feeling her need for him to take control of the situation. “Let’s not worry about you and me right now. Despite our physical attraction, I think deep down we’re still pretty angry with each other for reasons that can probably be justified. Let’s just worry about Taylor right now and go from there. Does that work for you?”

  Maggie was standing so close it would have taken little effort to lean over and kiss her lips—lips he still dreamed of.

  What he had said was true. He was still angry with her, and he knew she was still angry with him. After all, he was the one who had betrayed their love by having sex with Lisa. But fair was fair; he had only been twenty years old. Just bringing these emotions out into the open and admitting them somehow dissipated much of the tension and anxiety.

  “You're right,” she said shakily. “One thing at a time.”

  “First Taylor, then maybe you and me,” he whispered. He was stepping into dangerous territory, but he couldn’t help himself. He brushed a lock of her hair back, tucking it behind her ear. She smelled so good. She felt so right.

  For a few minutes they just stood there, his arm around her and he enjoyed the feeling of having her so close.

  “Why don’t you go home now?” Jarrett said finally. “And I’ll go in and see how Taylor is doing.”

  She made no attempt to remove his arm from her shoulder, so he stayed where he was.

  “You don’t want me to . . . I can go in and—”

  “No,” he said firmly. “I think it might be better this way. I’ll call you in the morning and let you know how she’s doing. Maybe we could go to a movie or something tomorrow night together, show her you’re not going to go away even if she wants you to. I think that would be good for her. When do you work next?”

  “I go on days starting tomorrow, so I’m free.”

  “Where’s your beach bag and stuff?”

  She seemed reluctant to step away from his embrace. “Already in the car.”

  “I’ll walk you.”

  He followed her down the dark stairs and out to her car, which was parked beneath a streetlight. She acted as if she felt awkward as she clicked the key fob, first locking it again with a beep, then unlocking it.

  He had to smile. “Maggie?”

  She turned to face him and he forgot what he wanted to say. All he knew was that he wanted to kiss her . . . had to kiss her.

  Before she could pull back, he brushed his lips across hers. “ ’Night,” he said, wanting a real kiss, but not daring.

  “ ’Night,” she whispered.

  Then she hopped into her green Jag and was gone before he could think or speak, his mouth still tingling from her touch.

  ~~~

  “A Coke and popcorn,” Taylor said crossly. She stood beside her father, on the far side of Maggie at the concession stand of the theater, her arms crossed over her chest, her lip-glossed mouth stuck out in an exaggerated pout. This
evening, Maggie’s articulate, mature daughter was the epitome of the sullen teen.

  Jarrett glanced at Maggie, acting as if he had to bite his tongue to keep from laughing aloud at Taylor’s antics.

  On the ride over, both adults had tried talking to Taylor. They apologized again for their deception and explained why Jarrett had thought it best not to tell Taylor the truth, at first. He confessed his fear and his anger with Maggie to his daughter. They tried to reassure her that having a mother could offer nothing but advantages, that her life with her father was in no way threatened by Maggie’s presence.

  Taylor tuned them out. She was angry and she was hurting and she wanted to punish them both.

  Maggie tried not to be hurt too much by Taylor’s behavior. Putting herself in her daughter’s place, she could understand it. Taylor had to be both angry and afraid—angry at their deception, afraid of what the future would bring. Teens never liked the unexpected.

  Maggie tried to echo Jarrett’s easygoing attitude. He had more experience with their daughter; he knew how to handle her. Instead of continuing to discuss the issue, he had told Taylor they could table it until she was ready to talk. Now he was attempting to enjoy an evening out and he encouraged Taylor to do the same.

  “Do I have to sit with you?” Taylor was dressed in tight shorts, a T-shirt that bared her midriff, and platform sandals. In choosing her attire, she had, no doubt, been trying to upset her father. Apparently he hadn’t taken the bait, because Maggie hadn’t heard a word pass between them about the bare tummy or the bright blue eye shadow and sparkling lip-gloss.

  Taylor stared beyond Maggie and Jarrett at the heaps of popcorn behind the glass concession stand wall.

  “You do have to sit in the same theater,” Jarrett said. “But I don’t suppose you have to sit right next to us.”