by Tea DeLuca
“Not old,” she replied indignantly. “Mature, handsome, and a nice guy.”
“So, you said.” He let a little more of the leash extend as Rufus excitedly darted into the bushes. “Are you sleeping with him, Mags?”
“That’s none of your business, Mark, and I said we’ve only been out a couple of times. Are you seeing anyone?” She knew Mark had women throwing themselves at him. He couldn’t possibly be alone.
How did he classify Melissa? “No one steady or permanent, yet.”
“But you’re seeing someone?” Her pretty eyes were a distraction, disarming. He couldn’t think.
“I go out. Sometimes with the same women, but it hasn’t amounted to much.” The silence between them deepened but seemed natural, right. “Tell me what’s happened to you recently.”
She tensed, her body straightening and rigid. “Work, school, that’s pretty much it.”
He guided the dog around, and they headed back. “Tell me how you’ve really been—you. Are you feeling all right?” He needed to know and couldn’t think of another way to find out the prognosis.
“I don’t know what you are talking about, Mark. I’m absolutely fine, the picture of health.” Her stride lengthened; the pace quickened.
He stopped her at her door. His eyes holding hers. “You know you can tell me anything.”
No, she couldn’t. She couldn’t tell him how desperately she had needed him, cried for him at the worst time of her life. She pushed ahead of the dog and reached for a bottle of water from the refrigerator. “Beer? Water?”
“Water’s fine. Mags.”
“You sound like you think you know something. Maybe you should share.” Her hands firmly grasping the bottle till her fingers hurt and turned white.
“You’ve been sick.”
“How do you know that?” she challenged.
“It doesn’t matter, damn it. That’s all I know. Talk to me.”
“Why? Is that what this is about? This friendship all of a sudden? Because I don’t need your damn pity, and you can leave.”
“Lash out if you want. I can take it, but I’m not leaving till you talk to me, and I don’t pity you. You’re a strong beautiful woman. I admire you.”
She let out a shaky breath, resting against the kitchen counter. Her eyes glassy; she looked away. “I found a lump fourteen months ago in my breast.”
“You must have been terrified.”
She nodded, holding onto her tears. “Doctor did a biopsy and found cancer, but it was early and hadn’t spread to the lymph nodes or other tissue. That was fortunate, I guess.”
“That sounds good.” He took her hand and brought her to sit beside him on the sofa.
“After they did radiation. That’s when I cut my hair and donated it.” As her hands rested clenched in her lap, he covered them with his.
“That make you pretty sick?”
She nodded. “For a while. Tests are good now for the most part, but I’m still on medication. Prognosis?” Her voice faltered. “There isn’t a history of breast cancer in my family so, I’m lucky and should make a full recovery.”
He unclenched her hands and threaded their fingers together. “Who was with you through the appointments, the tests, and the surgery?”
“Mom, my sister.” Her eyes filled with tears. She had wanted him.
“You should have contacted me. I have the same number.”
“Right, and what would I have said, Mark? Sorry about the past. Guess what? I have cancer.”
He bit his lip, making his way through the murky waters. The emotions breaking his heart for her. “No, you should have said you needed me. I would have come. What are you most afraid of, Mags?”
He wasn’t prepared for her answer. “Living. Dying is easy but living with the uncertainty that it could come back and thinking that anyone I’m with will have to know for a variety of reasons. There are scars, Mark.”
He let go of her hands and leaned back. “Let me see.”
“No,” As she rose, he forcefully pulled her back down. “I’m not showing you. God, not you of all people.”
“Why not me? If anyone knows you better than I, I don’t know who that would be.”
“Exactly. You knew me before the surgery, before the scars. Anyone else would get the damaged me.”
He pulled her hands away from her face. “There is only one Mags, and she isn’t damaged, but you need an expert male opinion. Show me.”
Shaking her head, a tear slipped down her cheek.
“Show me, please. Trust me, Maggie.”
She had trusted him, and he left her.
With trembling hands, she unbuttoned her soft cotton blouse. Then under the top behind her back, she unclasped her bra. With gentle hands he pushed back the shirt and lifted aside the bra. He had loved every inch of this woman, and he knew her so well. He noticed the slightly irregular shape of the left breast, an indentation where the tumor and tissue had been removed. He traced the scar with his fingertips that circled in an arc around the outside perimeter and rubbed his thumb over the tiny crosses that some kind of instruments had penetrated. He cradled it lovingly in his palm, remembering how responsive she had been to his touch. “You’re beautiful, honey, always were, still are.”
She sighed at his touch, and at the memories she couldn’t force away.
“This is going to sound like a stupid question.”
She half laughed. Her eyes glued to his hand protectively covering her breast, and his thumb skimming the nipple. “Ask me.”
“Is it still sensitive, I mean, for you?” She had been the most sexual woman he had ever known. Quick to respond to his touch, easily aroused, taking and giving.
She closed her eyes as a wave of heat rolled over her. She hadn’t test it, but Mark was doing a damn good job without trying. “I think I’m good.” She pushed his hand away and repositioned her clothes. “And I think you should leave now.” The feel of his hand on her breast lingered.
He stopped at the door and stayed with his back to her. “You call me if you need me.”
“Even if you’re with someone else?” she asked softly.
“Yes.”
“Even if I’m with someone else?”
“Yes.”
The flood gates opened with a rush, and he gathered her in his arms. She sobbed against his shoulder, tightening her grasp around his neck. He rocked her gently, stroking her hair and fought the war raging inside him. He loved her. He believed she had loved him. What had happened to them? He leaned back, taking her with him and held her till the wracking tears quietly subsided.
She was nearly asleep when he lifted her from the sofa and tucked her in bed. Rufus settled in on his side of the bed. He kissed her forehead and whispered softly, “You’re not alone, Maggie. I’m here.” He should have been with her through the diagnosis, the horrible treatments, and the fear. He skimmed her cheek with his palm. He could, at least, be her friend now, even if they couldn’t go back, couldn’t change what happened in the past, but he still had to think of Liddy, and couldn’t risk whatever had scared her before would scare her again.
Chapter 17
Mark stared at the ceiling, watching his fan spin round and round. His thoughts followed similarly in circles. He needed to sleep, early day in court tomorrow, and yet Mags filled his head with longing and pain. He knew next to nothing about breast cancer, but there was something devastating even for him having her confirm it. How did she handle it when she first knew?
Since he couldn’t wrestle his pillow into sleep any longer, he opened his laptop and did a search. One out of eight women would be diagnosed with the disease this year. More than 40,000 would lose their lives. More than 3,000,000 women had a history of this type of cancer in the US, but so much was being done to extend life expectancies; new procedures, new medications, early detection and testing, and awareness by women of changes in their own bodies. Mags, young, but not immune to the disease either. Did he lie to her? If she had called that she needed him, woul
d he have gone to her? Was that enough, or would she have had to tell him about the cancer? He would have supported her then, but his attitude in the restaurant was his defense mode for five years. He’d be there for her now. Her tears always leveled him, but this was different. This was need in a way he had never seen with Mags.
Email notification chimed and eagerly he opened Gayle’s letter.
Hey, Mark. It’s going to take a lot of alcohol to get back in my good graces, and cut the bullshit, my friend. Funny, how when I hear from either you or Mags, it’s to inquire about the other. Just call me a romantic, but I know how you both feel, and I can’t help wondering why you two idiots don’t see it. I don’t know what went wrong at that big beautiful wedding, but I know two people who should be together, because they love each other. Don’t argue with me. I’m polishing off a good bottle of French wine and starting another. That explained it. Gayle never could hold her liquor without running her mouth. Mags and I corresponded frequently for a while, but about a year ago she went radio silent. I thought she was just busy at first so I called her. I barely got three words out as she told me to get lost. Not in those words, of course, but the message was the same. I maybe got one or two extremely short emails that said nothing. Bullshit. Mark laughed. Gayle was on a roll and venting. Guess who I heard from right after I heard from you? Our girl sent a nice letter this time full of news, work, school, a new guy, and she ran into you. Go figure. I need to find my fairy tale guy and get laid. Anyway, I hope she is all right especially if you’re right about a medical issue. I’m going to call her again or kick her ass when I come home. I miss you guys even Perry.
There was so much Gayle didn’t know about Mags. She’d have to tell her when she was ready. Maybe talking to a good woman friend would help. There was also a lot Gayle didn’t know about his life. He wasn’t sure if he ever told her about the divorce, but he didn’t tell her about Liddy.
As day broke, he showered and checked his watch. If he wanted to stop for coffee, he’d have to hurry and then fly to the courthouse. Court would take all day and appointments all afternoon. Everything else would have to wait.
He paid for his coffee just as the door opened, and Mags’ cowboy came in. Mark sipped slowly as he met the man’s stare. As Craig joined the line, he was close enough to examine the expensive suit, the leather briefcase, and the polished oxfords. Mark’s wardrobe screamed success, doctor or lawyer success. “So, does your day job pay better than your night job?”
Mark didn’t move. Callused hands, jeans, work boots, a smudge of oil on his t-shirt. “Don’t mind a little moonlighting when it comes to Mags.”
Craig stiffened a little and paid for his coffees. “Got a minute to sit.”
He didn’t, but he wasn’t walking away. They moved to the table nearest the door. “I’m too old for games but not too old for a fight. So, why don’t you tell me what you’re after so I’m clear.”
“Mags and I are friends. Have been for a long time.”
“That doesn’t answer my question. What do you want?” Each man stared, continuing to assess the other.
Mark rested his arms on the table. “What do you want, cowboy?”
“Magnolia. I like her a lot. I’ve been alone since my wife died and want a woman in my life again. Right now, I’m guessing you aren’t sure what you want. That gives me an advantage, because I want her. I know it, and I’ll have her before you even figure it out.”
Mark clenched his hands around his cup. As a lawyer, he knew it was best to let the other guy speak first. As a poker player, you always let the other guy put his cards down first. It was all about knowing your opponent well enough to guess his next move. He smiled a cocky smile. “Mags is a beautiful woman. We have a complicated history, but I do know one thing. In the end it matters little what either one of us wants. What matters is what Mags wants. That second cup of coffee you bought is getting cold while you’re shooting the shit with me. Mags likes her coffee hot.”
He was out of the store and back in his car when he saw Craig cross the street with Mags’ coffee and her cookies. He could have told Craig they had ended a long time ago. That he was seeing someone else, and they shared custody of the dog. He thought Mags deserved to be happy. Did her happiness lie with Craig?
His mood shifted as he made his way into the courthouse. He was going to blow away the prosecution’s case against his client, grab a late lunch, keep his appointments, then go for a very long run. Maybe Perry was free to play basketball or racquetball later. He needed to pound something, do something physical, and just like that Melissa’s name flashed across the screen.
Chapter 18
Mags deeply inhaled the delicate fragrance of the pink sweetheart roses on her desk. Craig, the thoughtful guy, had sent them with a short message. A beautiful flower for a beautiful woman. She should call and thank him, apologize again for the interruption in their date, and suggest another date, but Mark had her head in a spin. Flooded with memories and new feelings of hope, she wasn’t sure where they could go after last night. She never intended for him to know about the cancer, let alone see her battle scars, but he was Mark. For the first time in fourteen months, she felt whole, not damaged. Were they finally past the hurt? Could she forgive him for leaving her? Could they start over?
“Maggie,” Sandy interrupted her thoughts. “You have a customer who wants to see you.”
“Tell her I’m coming.” Tucking the florist card in her pocket, she found a pretty blond woman with a child waiting for her at the register. She looked a little tired as she redirected the energetic child away from the racks. “Hi, how can I help you?”
“Liddy is going to be in her uncle’s wedding. We were looking for something special she could wear as the flower girl.” The young girl looked at her curiously and inched a step closer to her mother. “Those little dresses on the rack would be perfect, but I don’t see one in a mint green.”
Mags pushed through the rack of new dresses. “This would be perfect for a wedding,” she smiled. She squatted down in front of Liddy. “Do you like the dress, honey?”
She ran her hand lightly over the fabric and nodded. Guessing at her size, she held one of the pink dresses against her. “Why don’t you have your daughter try on one of these for size, and I’ll check my supplier and see if the dress comes in that color.
“No,” come a sharp refusal. “Pink, Mommy. I want the pink one.”
“Honey, Uncle Rick and Aunt Kim want you in green, but we can try the pink one on.”
Mags’ experience with children was limited, but this child had a stubborn streak that Mom had probably spent a lot of time appeasing. She took the little girl firmly by the hand and led her into the dressing room, all the time distracting her with talk of riding on an airplane.
“Sounds like a destination wedding,” Mags remarked to Sandy.
“Her mom said the wedding’s in Italy.”
Mags’ breath caught. She and Mark had planned a trip to Italy someday when they could afford it. When he finished his law degree, he promised to whisk her away to the enchanting romantic city her novels boasted. She hadn’t thought of that in a while.
Shaking off the memories, she pulled up her vendor and called to check on the dress. Then after printing a colored picture, she returned to the store. Liddy was adorable in the pretty pink dress, spinning before the wall of mirrors. “This one, Mommy,” she insisted again.
Again, Mags knelt on the floor beside her. “Look at this one, honey. I think this was the color of Cinderella’s dress.”
Liddy’s eyes widened, and her joy bubbled over. “I love Cinderella. My daddy reads it to me.”
“Then the green one? For your daddy?” Mags asked.
“That one, Mommy.”
The blond woman smiled her appreciation. “Do you have children? You’re a natural.”
“Not yet,” Mags returned. “Is this the color green? If we order it today, I can have it for you in a couple of days.”
“T
hat would be great.”
The two women were suddenly interrupted by the sound of a piercing scream. Mags had placed strategically around the children’s section several stuffed animals. Liddy was jumping up and down and pointing to the husky on the shelf above her. When Mags caught her breath, certain the child hadn’t fallen in the store, she reached for the soft black and white dog and handed it to the little girl.
“Damn,” she heard over her shoulder. Liddy held the dog tightly against her little body and wasn’t showing any signs of giving it up. “Honey, we have to take the dress off and look for some shoes down the street. Put the dog down and come with me.”
Liddy’s eyes welled up with tears. Her mother looked stricken with what Mags thought was a potential meltdown alert. “We’ll leave the puppy out here, honey, while you change, right here on this shelf.” Liddy could easily reach the much lower shelf and watched Mags suspiciously.
“She’s pretty. I want a puppy just like her.”
“She’ll be right here,” Mags repeated.
She took her mother’s hand and let herself be led away. “You know we can’t have a puppy, Liddy. That’s why we have Fluffy.”
“Sounds like this is a reoccurring fight over the dog,” Sandy observed, a mother with two children of her own. “Maybe you should make the dog disappear. Out of sight out of mind.”
But Mags couldn’t. Those pretty blue eyes had pleaded with her, had trusted her to keep the dog on the shelf till she returned. She couldn’t betray the child’s trust. The dressing room door burst open, and Liddy ran for the stuffed dog. The silky cuddly dog was overpriced, and the young woman ignored the child as she left a deposit and her name and number. Mags took the card while her gaze drifted back to the child. To be so young and disappointed so soon in life. A puppy seemed like such a small thing. “We’ll call you as soon as the dress comes in.”
“Come on, Liddy. We have to go—without the dog.”
The tears, one escaping down her cheek, Mags’s heart moved. “I have a dog just like this one,” she told the child. “One with black and white fur and pretty blue eyes like yours.”