I hold the bandana in my hands as the nerves take over. “You know, McDonald’s wouldn’t be that bad. Let’s head for the Golden Arches.”
Connor reaches for my hand. “Trust me.”
“Is this a test? Like you’re trying to see if I have faith in you? That I can trust you no matter what, even though we both know I’m a neurotic mess and have intimacy issues?”
“No.” He drops his head on the steering wheel. “This is me trying to take out Maggie Montgomery, the girl who gets her kicks from leaping out of airplanes and climbing mountains in the dark. Do you have any idea what kind of pressure it is to come up with a date for someone who has the attention span of a two-year-old and gets bored in five-minute intervals?”
I bite my lip and hold back the laugh. “Well, at least help me with the thing.”
His strong hands make quick work of fastening the bandana around my head, and soon we’re driving again. And I’m so nervous I want to chew the Sally Hansen right off my nails.
The minutes dredge on as my body tilts with the motion of the truck. I grip the armrest until my knuckles cramp. Maybe if I just sneak a little peek.
“Maggie, you lift that bandana, I’m gonna dump you right in the middle of Mr. Tucker’s pig farm.”
I let my arm fall back down. “Somebody needs to take some Midol.”
When I think I can’t stand it anymore, the truck slows and finally comes to a stop. “We’re here. I’m going to come around and get you.”
“I’ll be waiting, big boy.”
He laughs as he shuts the door. The evening wind blows on my skin as Connor appears at my side and reaches for my hands. “Easy does it. Step down.”
I misjudge the depth of the ground and catapult toward the grass.
Muttering, Connor sweeps me up in time and gathers me into his arms.
“Get your hands off my butt.”
He shifts his grip. “Get your foot out of my face.”
I lean back and rest my cheek against his chest. The blindfold gives my words a boldness. “You smell good tonight, Dr. Blake.”
“I just came from Mrs. Rigglebink’s emu farm.”
For a moment I let my mind wander and imagine that he’s my man. And he’s always doing crazy stuff like this for me. I feel safe in his arms. Protected. Even with the pervy blindfold.
I hear Connor’s feet hit pavement, and he walks a little ways before coming to a stop. Keys jangle, then a door squeaks as it’s opened.
“If they find my body in a meat cooler tomorrow morning, I’m really gonna be ticked. I have a pet rock in Chicago to take care of.”
Another door is opened, and the temperature change lets me know we’re inside. Flashing lights filter in through the blindfold, and the soft strains of an old ballad play overhead. “Connor?”
“Okay, I’m going to put you down. Nice and easy.”
As I hang on to his arms, he slowly lowers me, and my feet finally touch the ground.
“You can take it off now.”
“I thought you knew I wasn’t that kind of girl.”
With an exasperated sigh, Connor unties the bandana and peels it from my eyes.
I blink a few times and adjust to the lights. Turning a full circle, I can hardly take it all in. I stand in the Ivy High School gym. A strobe light flashes overhead along with streamers in blue and white. An ivory runner on the floor leads to the center of the court where a table for two sits. Sprays of flowers are everywhere, with balloons hanging at different levels like kites on strings.
“You did this?” My voice is airy as a cloud. “You did this for me?”
“Welcome to prom.”
A giant cutout moon sits over to the far left, with a huge faux carriage. I read the banner above it out loud. “A Starlit Night.”
“It was the theme our junior year.”
I do another rotation, buying some time to clear the moisture from my eyes.
Connor shoves his hands in his pockets. “What do you think?”
I shake my head, words completely unavailable to me. No coherent thoughts.
“Maggie?”
I propel myself right into Connor’s arms. I hug him tight like I just want to press the feelings right into him. Like I need my heart to send the message to his. “I love it,” I finally manage. “I love it.” And I seal my lips over his, reveling in the texture of his mouth, his face in my palms. He kisses me back with a searing, slow tenderness that clears my mind of all thoughts. All worries.
He gradually pulls back and smiles. “I think they’re playing our song.”
Mariah Carey sings an ode to her lover. “I was more of a head-banger girl myself.”
“We have all night.” Connor holds out his hand, and I curl into his arm. He swings me back out, and with a laugh, swoops me to him, moving us in time to the music.
“You’re a pretty good dancer for a nerd.” Once again, my head tucks into his chest, like it was made to fit in that spot.
“I watched a lot of Fresh Prince. You haven’t seen anything yet.”
“How did you do all this?”
We cut a path across the floor, dancing in perfect sync. “The coach is a good friend of mine. I saved his horse last spring and he owed me.”
“You decorated all by yourself?”
“Of course not.”
I smile against his shirt. “Beth.”
“And Mark. And the girls.”
“They’re the best.” And I don’t ever want to lose track of them again.
“They like you too.” He kisses my temple. “So do I.”
“Even if I’m a mess?”
He doesn’t answer, and I let it go.
“I can’t believe you did this.”
Connor smiles down at me. “Every girl needs her prom.”
“I’m not making out with you in the backseat when this is over.”
He sighs. “You’re never going to get prom queen with that attitude.”
Watching the strobe lights, contentment fills me up until I could burst like one of the helium balloons. “This is the most amazing date ever.”
“And you haven’t seen me do the moon walk yet.” He tips up my chin and captures my lips with his. My body melts into him, and my fingers tunnel through his thick hair.
“Maggie?” Connor says against my mouth.
“Hmm?” He changes the angle of the kiss, and I follow.
“We need to”—his lips move toward my ear—“talk about us.”
I sigh and close my eyes as heat dances across my skin. “E-mail me later.”
He lifts his head, draws back. “Now.”
I stare at a spot on his shirt, tempted to tell him the bitter truth. I can’t commit to anyone. I get claustrophobic in relationships until I find myself saying, “It’s not you. It’s me,” and then suddenly I can breathe again.
And yet.
I’ve never felt this strongly about someone—this quickening of the pulse just to see him at my door.
Never felt this safe. Or cherished.
Or scared.
“Spill it, Maggie. Whatever’s going through that red head of yours.”
But I can’t say any of that. “You know I’ll be leaving soon and—”
“We could work around that,” he says reluctantly, like he’s been thinking about it, and he’s not really sold on his idea.
“I—” My tongue won’t seem to cooperate. “Connor, I’m going to be here intermittently whether I’m with National Geographic or Passport to the World.”
“Is that enough for Riley? Is that your idea of a commitment to her?”
“I’m trying. It will have to be enough. And we could see each other when I come to stay with her.”
He shakes his head. “That’s not going to work. I’m not doing long distance again.”
I stick pride in my back pocket. “But we could still hang out until I leave. You know, until you find your Stepford Wife.”
“That’s not a good idea and you—” Connor’s
interrupted by the ringing of his phone. He ignores it and opens his mouth again.
“You should get that. Could be an animal emergency.”
He stares me down like he’s facing off an opponent on the ten-yard line. Or in his case, like someone threw out his Lord of the Rings DVDs.
“Could be a sick horse. A puking puppy. A guinea pig with seizures.”
With a growl, he whips out the phone and checks the display. His forehead wrinkles in a frown. “Hello? Beth?”
My senses go on high alert.
Connor plugs his other ear. “Speak up. Yes. Okay.” His blue eyes move to me. And I see trouble there. “We’re on our way.” With the punch of one finger, he ends the call.
“What is it?”
“I’m afraid prom is over for tonight.”
“Is it Beth? Her girls?”
He shakes his head. “It’s your dad.”
Before he even says the words, I see the plane to Los Angeles leaving without me. Taking my chance at a new life with it.
“Maggie, your dad’s at the hospital. He’s had a heart attack.”
Chapter Twenty-Six
I run into the emergency room and skid to a halt at the receptionist’s counter. “My dad.” Breathing hard. Must cut back on the SweeTarts and Twinkies. “Heart attack.”
Connor steps in, his voice as calm as one of those NPR hosts. “Benjamin Montgomery. Possible heart attack. Would’ve been brought in by Beth Sterling.”
The woman types on her computer. I see the screens flashing on her bifocals. “Yes, he’s in surgery right now.”
I clutch the counter. “What kind of surgery?”
“I don’t have any details, ma’am. If you’ll go to the cardiac wing, there’s a nurse’s station and waiting room. Third floor.”
“Follow me.” Connor throws an arm around me and leads me down a long hall, where we wait half an eon for the elevator.
“I could write a book in the time it takes for this thing to get here,” I say, watching the floor numbers tick off above us.
God, I’m sorry for every bad thing I’ve ever said about my father. Yes, he wasn’t a great dad, but I don’t want him to die. Riley needs him. And I didn’t get the chance to tell him . . . okay, I don’t know what I’d tell him, but maybe that he’s a good grandpa? That I forgive him? If you give me another chance, I’ll come up with something.
At least I don’t have to worry about where Riley is. Beth had immediately called back to tell us Mark was home, and Riley would be safely tucked away at their house, having a slumber party with the girls.
The door pings open, and I dart inside. Connor pushes the button, and we’re sealed inside.
His hand settles on my back. “How about I pray for your dad?”
I nod and step closer to him.
“Heavenly Father, we ask that you be with the doctors. Give them wisdom and healing hands during this surgery. We ask that you strengthen Ben and mend his body. Give Maggie and Riley peace.” He squeezes my shoulder, and I lean into his side. “God, we know you are in control, and we take comfort in that. In Jesus’ name, Amen.”
“Amen,” I whisper.
The doors whish open, and Connor guides me down the hall.
“Maggie!” Beth rushes out of a waiting area. She pulls me into a fierce hug with those strong arms that have rocked four babies.
“What happened?”
“Riley called me in a panic. She had walked into the kitchen and found your dad in the floor. Unconscious. That smart girl of yours had already called 9-1-1. She was a wreck, though. Crying. Scared.”
I squeeze my eyes shut against the image.
“She tried to call you, but kept getting voice mail.”
Guilt pushes on my chest like a hundred-pound weight. “I had my phone on vibrate.” When I listened to the calls on the way to the hospital, it was everything I could do not to throw up on Connor’s floorboards. Her frightened voice, choked with tears. A child so alone and desperate. Again.
“Have you seen the doctor?” Connor asks.
“No. Haven’t seen anyone since they wheeled him in. The doctor who took him in said it looked like a heart attack, but I don’t know anything.”
“Thank you.” I wring my hands. “I . . . I don’t know what I would’ve done without you.” What Riley would’ve done. “Go home to your family now.” I hug my friend again. “Thank you.” I say it three more times before letting her go.
After checking in at the nurse’s station, I return to the small waiting area. Connor hands me a cup of strong, black coffee.
“You don’t have to stay.” I take a drink, the warmth sliding down my throat. “I’ll be fine.”
Holding my hand, Connor guides me to a couch. “I’m staying.” I settle in beside him and rest my head on his shoulder.
Two nurses walk by in candy-colored scrubs, their tennis shoes squeaking on the linoleum floor. “I can’t even imagine what Riley—”
“Don’t think about it, Maggie.” He kisses the top of my head. “It’s over. She’s safe with Beth’s family.”
“All she’s known is trauma. One scary experience after another. My dad is her only constant”—my shoulders quake in a shiver—“and tonight she watched him suffer. Probably thought he was dead.” Tears make slow treks down my cheeks. “I’m a terrible aunt. A horrible daughter.”
He pulls me closer. “No you’re not. You couldn’t help it you didn’t hear the phone. You were too dazzled by all my romantic moves. It’s the Connor Blake love trance. Gets the ladies every time.”
I give a watery smile. “It really was a great night. Until this.” And until you asked me where we were headed. “Thanks for being here.”
“I guess you’ll have to reschedule your interview.”
“Yes.” And reschedule my life again. It’s like that story of Jonah and the whale. God keeps dragging me back to Ivy. “If they let me. There are people lined up for that job.”
Connor’s voice rumbles near my ear. “Maybe this is your chance to do something different. Send your documentary into the world.”
I sigh. “You don’t understand.”
“Funny, I was going to tell you the same thing.”
Before I can set Connor straight, a man pushes through the double doors at the end of the hall and walks our way. “Are you the family of Mr. Montgomery?”
“Yes.” I stand up. “I’m his daughter. How is he?”
“He has suffered a heart attack. We did a cardiac catheteriza-tion and things didn’t look good. Unfortunately, it can’t be treated with angioplasty or a stent, so we’re setting him up for bypass surgery Tuesday morning.”
Two hours later, I stand over my father’s hospital bed. He sleeps quietly against a backdrop of beeps and the random clicking of the equipment nearby.
“Come on,” Connor says beside me. “You’re beat. The doctor told you he’d be out until tomorrow. You need to get some rest.”
I glance at the chair in the corner and think of staying.
“He won’t even know you’re here.” Connor’s hand curves at the base of my neck. “You have Riley to think about.”
Connor drives me home, coming in long enough to make sure everything’s okay in the house. “Are you sure you’re going to be fine here? I could take you to Beth’s.”
“No, but thanks.”
“Do you need me to stay? I’ll sleep on the couch.”
I give him a tired smile. “It’s three a.m. and you’re still trying to put the moves on me.” I lean up and kiss his cheek. “You’re amazing, Dr. Blake.” Something settles around my heart. Something foreign. Strange. Probably just fatigue and too much waiting-room coffee. “Good night.”
He wraps his strong arms around me for one last hug, then lets himself out the front door.
I brush my teeth, slip my weary body into a T-shirt. And collapse on the bed. Makeup still on.
I dream of my mother.
And the lake that took her life.
The la
ke that holds me prisoner still.
At seven a.m., I stand on Beth’s doorstep in my baseball cap and Nike yoga wear, a box of donuts in one hand and a gallon of milk in the other.
“Good morning.” Mark lets me into the living room where Dalton goes scurrying by naked as the day he was born, clutching a diaper. “How are you?”
“Fine.” Exhausted. Feel like I ran a marathon on no sleep. “Is Riley up and around?” I hand him the food and peer around.
“She’s in the backyard letting the puppy out.”
“Thanks for taking her and Matilda last night, Mark.”
He smiles, his white teeth a contrast to his dark skin. “Glad to. Maggie, I know things are crazy for you, but God’s got it all under control. Your being back in Ivy, taking care of Riley, even your dad’s heart attack—none of this was a surprise to him.”
I shift uncomfortably. “Yeah . . . thanks. Um, I’m sorry about your job. I’ve been praying for you. I know how nerve-racking that must be.”
Mark tilts down that chin and looks at me like a stern parent. “Did you hear what I just said?”
“I haven’t slept much.”
“Dude, I don’t spout off that stuff and then not believe it myself.” He opens the box of donuts and takes one out. Biting into it, he points it at me with each word. “God is on the job. Even when I’m not. Between unemployment, my part-time work, and Beth’s crazy pizza-delivery gig, things are fine. I’ve got my family and my faith. And that’s what counts.”
His brown eyes look so sincere. Like he means it. How do you just free-fall into faith like that? “I better get Riley. Thanks again.”
From the back of the house, I hear the sound of Beth hollering at one of her daughters to stop throwing shoes at her sister. Slipping through the dining room, I open the back door and step into the yard. Riley sits at the edge of the privacy fence, her back to me, the curl of a puppy tail hanging over her leg.
My running shoes crunch in the grass. “Riley?”
She doesn’t turn around.
“Riley? Sweetie?” I tap her on the shoulder as she cradles her dog. “Hey—”
She twists her body around, her eyes swollen and red. “Where were you?” she cries.
I drop to my knees beside her. “I’m sorry. Riley, I’m so, so sorry. I didn’t hear my phone. But I came as soon as I could. I know it was awful to see Grandpa like that, but you were so brave and—”
Just Between You and Me Page 20
