Ethan didn’t understand. She shook her head. “I can’t call him.”
Whatever reasons she thought she had, they didn’t count. Ethan kissed her forehead. “The Maggie I know doesn’t have ‘can’t’ in her vocabulary. That’s what makes her so special.” He nodded at her desk as he walked out. “Read it.”
The door closed softly behind him. She waited a couple of beats, debating silently with herself. There were no winners.
Maggie crossed to her desk. Taking a large cleansing breath, she opened the magazine and read.
She wanted to find fault with the article, wanted it to reinforce her feelings. She wanted it to cement the position where she stood.
It didn’t.
He’d rewritten parts of it. It was an article laced with warmth and admiration. Clear-eyed now, she felt it in every word she read. Joe had come to know all of her, both the gung-ho career woman and the little girl in the thrift-shop shoes who was the mother of the woman she’d become. It had only been her own shame over her roots that had made her read things into the article previously.
Maggie dropped the magazine on her desk, torn.
The indecision lasted only a moment. Ethan was right. She had to swallow her pride and her insecurities and call Joe. If only to tell him that she’d been wrong. She owed that to him. To both of them.
As Maggie reached for the receiver, the telephone buzzed beneath her hand. Damn, she didn’t have time for business now.
“You’ve got a call on line two.” Ada’s voice floated over the speaker phone.
Maggie frowned. “Tell them I’ll get back to them.” Her finger hovered over the monitor button, ready to break the connection. She’d wasted too much time already.
“You sure?” Ada sounded surprised. “It’s one of those little invaders—”
Why would they be calling her? Maggie stabbed down the button with the blinking light before Ada had a chance to finish.
“Hello? This is Maggie. Sandy?”
“No.” The childish voice was breathless as it echoed in her ear. “It’s Christine.” Something was wrong, Maggie thought. She could hear it. “You’ve got to come over quick.”
Maggie reined in her imagination before it could gallop out of the stall. “Is something wrong with your uncle?”
“No, it’s Sandy. She’s sick.” The words were rushing out. “Real sick.”
Maggie heard a catch in Christine’s voice. Was she crying? This had to be legitimate. Christine wouldn’t concern herself about Sandy unless something was seriously wrong. “Calm down, honey. Everything’s going to be all right. Where’s your uncle?”
“I don’t know. He’s out.” Christine’s voice was small, lost. Maggie knew how helpless it felt to be a child without anyone to turn to. “I don’t know when he’ll be back. She’s real bad, Maggie.”
Maggie’s mind began to race. “What about Mrs. Phelps?”
There was a pause. “She drank something and we can’t wake her up.”
The words created an instant horrific flashback. Maggie saw herself in the kitchen, tugging on her mother’s arm. Her mother was slumped forward, her face flattened against the table. An empty bottle of whiskey lay beside her.
Tears sprang to Maggie’s eyes. She brushed them away. This was no time to dwell on her own past. The girls needed her.
Maggie pulled her purse out of the bottom drawer of her desk, then nudged it closed with her foot. She had to get details.
Maintaining a calm voice, she attempted to get a little more information. “Sandy didn’t fall down, did she?”
“No, she’s just burning up. And moaning. I’m scared, Maggie. Hurry.” The line went dead.
The whole thing could very well be completely out of proportion. She knew how easy it was to become frightened at that age. But what if it was serious? She had no choice. She couldn’t take the chance.
Maggie hurried out of her office and all but walked into Ethan. He’d hung around to see what she thought of the article. He hadn’t expected her to come flying out as if she were fleeing something.
“Hold it.” He grabbed her by her shoulders.
Ada glanced up as the door slammed in Maggie’s wake. “Who set you on fire?”
“Ada, I’ve got to be out of the office for a while.” Maggie tossed the sentence over her shoulder.
Ethan looked at her. “Maggie, the article wasn’t that—”
She shook her head, interrupting him. “It’s not the article. Christine called. Something’s wrong with Sandy and there doesn’t seem to be anyone around to help. I’ve got to see what’s going on.”
So much for her protests that she wasn’t involved with them, Ethan thought, pleased.
“What about your meeting at three with Mr. Pembroke?” Ada asked.
Maggie felt as if she was going in a dozen directions at once. “I—”
“Don’t worry about it. Just go see what’s wrong.” Ethan waved her on. “I’ll handle Pembroke.”
Joe had said she was standing in her brothers’ way. In her zealous attempt to keep everything flowing smoothly, maybe she had been. She looked at Ethan, grateful for his help. Grateful that she could shift the load a little.
“Yes, I know you will.” She owed him more than gratitude, she thought, swinging round. “Sorry I’ve been such a pill about things.”
Ethan understood better than she gave him credit for. He laughed. “You were just being Maggie. We all kind of got used to that.” He walked with her to the elevator. “But it’s nice to see you delegating things for a change.”
She nodded. The elevator yawned open before her. “Maybe I should have done it a long time ago.”
“Maybe. But better late than never.” He reached in and pressed the down button for her. “Go fix whatever needs fixing.”
She hoped she could, she thought as the doors closed.
When they opened again in the small lobby, she saw Joe approaching the elevator. Stunned, she hurried toward him. What was he doing here? Why wasn’t he home, taking care of Sandy?
She looked like a hummingbird frozen in mid flight. Joe caught her arm before she had the opportunity to rush past him. It had taken a lot for him to come here after the way she’d acted. After what he had promised himself. He wasn’t about to let her run off before he had a chance to talk to her.
“How did you know I was coming?”
His question confused her further. “I didn’t.”
Maybe the situation wasn’t as bad as he thought. But she was definitely hurrying somewhere. “Then why are you running off in such a hurry?”
What was he doing, going out when his niece was ill enough to frighten Christine? “Christine just called. She said Sandy was sick.” But even as she said it, she was beginning to suspect that perhaps she’d been set up.
Joe was staring at her as if she had just begun speaking in another language. He took her arm and walked her out the front door. Now that he was here, he wanted to talk to her away from this cookie factory she hid inside of.
“I just left the house. Sandy was fine.” He smiled ruefully as he held the glass door open for her. “Which is more than I can say about me.”
Once outside, Maggie turned around to face him. “Christine said that Sandy was burning up and that she was scared. She said Mrs. Phelps was sleeping. The way she described it, I thought the woman had passed out.” The pieces began to fall together quickly. Especially since he was laughing. “I guess I overreacted.” She dragged a hand through her hair. “So this is just a hoax?”
Those little devils. This was what came of letting them stay up and watch sitcoms. “I think they’re trying to get us back together. This is a lot like the plot of last week’s ‘One Big, Happy Family.’”
Maggie let out a breath. “I guess there’s no point in my rushing over there.”
He slipped his arm around her shoulders. “Oh, I wouldn’t say that.” She felt soft, wonderful, beside him. “They’d be very disappointed if you didn’t put in an app
earance.” He grinned at her. “Why don’t you come over and check the situation out for yourself?”
She’d missed him, missed him terribly. But until this moment, until she looked up into his eyes, she didn’t realize the intensity of her need for him.
“What are you doing here?” she asked softly.
He combed the hair away from her face with his fingers. “Selling out my pride. I swore I wouldn’t return until you asked me back. I guess I don’t have as much willpower as I thought.”
She’d haunted his mind night and day. Two weeks had been his limit. He’d waited until the article had been on the stands for a day. Not hearing from her had made him take drastic steps. He’d always been able to walk away from situations, from women before. He wasn’t walking anymore.
If he could be honest, so could she. “I was going to call you when Christine called.”
“Oh?” A smile was forming within him. “Why?”
He wanted his pound of flesh. She’d give it to him. She owed him that. You owed a lot of things to a person who had possession of your heart.
“I read the article again. Ethan practically forced me.” She shrugged helplessly, not knowing exactly how to proceed. “He’s on your side.”
Joe didn’t like the way she had worded that. “I didn’t know there were sides to this.”
“Yes.” But not the way he probably thought she meant. “Inside and outside.” Her smile was hesitant. “I think he wants you inside our circle.”
What someone else wanted didn’t matter to him. “And you?”
The smile ceased to be hesitant. “I very rarely disagree with my brothers.”
He’d accept that for now. “Won’t admit anything, will you?” he teased, ushering her to his car.
Maggie slid onto the passenger seat. She looked up at him. He already knew, she thought. Words weren’t needed. He knew. “Not easily.”
Joe nodded as he closed the car door. It wouldn’t be long now.
When they entered, the house was quiet, and for a moment, Maggie thought that her initial apprehension was justified. Something was wrong. She exchanged looks with Joe.
He could read her thoughts. “They’re resourceful,” he assured her. When he had left, the three had been in some sort of a huddle. But they’d all been the picture of health and exuberance. “C’mon, let’s see what they have planned for you.”
Maggie opened the girls’ bedroom door. It was a scene, she thought, worthy of an off-Broadway play. Sandy was in bed—Christine’s out of necessity, since her own was the top bunk—and the girls were hovering around her. It occurred to Maggie that she had started something by casting the girls in the commercial.
Triumph flashed across Christine’s face when she saw Maggie enter with her uncle.
“You’re here,” she gushed. “Together.” She glanced at her sisters. Grant couldn’t have looked more satisfied accepting Lee’s sword at Appomattox.
Sandy moaned, her hand lying dramatically across her forehead.
“Is it bad?” Concern was written all over Maggie’s face as she sat down on the edge of the bunk bed.
“Uh-huh,” Sandy whispered.
Maggie touched her lips gently to the girl’s forehead. “Just as I thought.”
Sandy’s eyes widened uncertainly. “What?”
But Maggie didn’t answer. Instead, she shook her head. “I’m afraid there’s only one cure for this.”
Sandy cast an uncertain eye at Christine. “What is it?”
“Tickling.” Maggie spread her fingers around the girl’s waist. Sandy giggled, wiggling. Maggie gathered her into her arms. “Sandy, you’ve got my vote for an Oscar.”
Sandy didn’t know what Maggie was talking about. She only knew that the warmth of Maggie’s arms was wonderful.
Christine stared at Maggie. “Huh?”
“Never mind, I’ll explain later. I’m just glad you’re all right.” She looked at the girls. “I’ve missed you.” Maggie raised her eyes to Joe. “All of you.”
Jennifer scrambled onto Maggie’s lap and threw her arms around her. “And we missed you. All of us.” She looked over her shoulder. “Especially Uncle Joe.”
She looked at him for confirmation. “Oh?”
“Yes,” Christine piped up. “That’s why I called you. He’s been so sad since you stopped eating with us. Can you have dinner here again?” To her young mind, that was the solution.
A smile curved Maggie’s mouth. “If I’m invited.”
In reply, Joe gently swept Jennifer from her perch and drew Maggie to her feet. “You’re invited, all right.” Ignoring the girls, he took Maggie into his arms. “To every dinner I’m ever going to have. And every breakfast, as well.”
She was afraid to hope. But hope rose insistently, anyway. “Just what are you saying?”
This wasn’t coming out the way he had planned it. But then, very little of his life had gone according to plan in the last six months. “That you blew me out of the water when I brought the article for you to read. I was going to wait until you finished reading it, then ask you to marry me. But—”
She heard only one thing. The thing she wanted to. She felt sunshine bursting within her. “Yes.”
Joe closed his mouth, then opened it again. “What?”
“I said yes.” Maggie wound her arms around his neck. There was no way to describe what she was feeling inside. As if she had finally, after all these years, found a place for herself. “Yes, I’d love to marry you.” Just saying the words brought peace and excitement to her at the same time.
He couldn’t quite get himself to believe it was true. And he definitely hadn’t meant to propose to her in the middle of his nieces’ bedroom. “Just like that? After all you’ve put me through, you’ve changed your mind? You’re not afraid anymore?”
It wasn’t that easy. But it was something she could work at. “No, I’m still afraid. But when I was little, I always wanted someone to hold me when I was afraid, to make it all better.”
“One set of arms at your disposal.” He tightened his hold around her. Her body fit neatly against his. “Yours to use for as long as you want.”
She tilted her head back, her eyes on his. “How does forever sound?”
“Doable. Very, very doable.” He kissed her forehead, aching to kiss her the way a man kissed a woman he’d sworn his soul to. Soon, he promised himself. Very, very soon. “I won’t walk out on you, Maggie. Not even if you push me out. I can’t. I love you and I need you too much. I need to feel my blood rush when I kiss you. I need to see you smile.” He cupped her cheek gently. God, but he loved her. “The girls are crazy about you and you make a hell of a chocolate chip cookie. I can’t find a better one on the market.”
She laughed, dizzy with the sensation coursing through her. “There isn’t one.”
His mouth whispered along hers. “So I’ve learned.” Maggie rose on her toes, ready to sink into the kiss. She felt a tug on her skirt.
“Are you and Uncle Joe getting married?” Christine asked.
“Yes.” Maggie grinned at him. Saying it felt incredible. “Yes, we are.”
Christine seemed to take it in stride. There was only one thing concerning her. “Can I be the flower girl?”
Sandy immediately positioned herself in front of her sister. “No, pick me.”
Christine elbowed Sandy out of the way. “You talked in the commercial. I get to throw the flowers.”
Maggie saw a free-for-all in the making. She laughed as she felt Joe’s arms tighten around her. “Hold it, you can all be my flower girls—as long as you promise not to throw the flowers at one another.”
Christine didn’t look pleased with the solution at all, though it seemed to sit well with her sisters. She tapped her foot impatiently. “But—”
This could continue for some time. Joe had better things for Maggie’s lips to be doing than arguing about the details of the wedding. He turned Maggie’s face toward his. “Let them work it out for themselves.�
��
She knew he was right. Right about a lot of things. “Okay.”
And then he kissed her before she could come up with another answer.
ISBN: 978-1-4268-3889-7
THE WOMEN IN JOE SULLIVAN’S LIFE
Copyright © 1995 by Marie Rydzynski-Ferrarella
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This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents are either the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, business establishments, events or locales is entirely coincidental.
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The Women in Joe Sullivan's Life Page 17
