by Lois Richer
But she knew exactly when his attention shifted from the room upstairs to her. She could feel the crackle of tension in the air as he watched her from under the brim of his cowboy hat. And when he stood up and slowly placed his glass on a nearby table, Maggie knew he was going to kiss her.
She stood and moved into his embrace easily, relaxing against him when his arms fitted themselves around her waist. She could smell the bracing scent of his cologne mingled with the blooming hollyhocks and taste the hint of lemon on his breath when his mouth closed over hers.
“You’re a very beautiful woman, Maggie,” he murmured as his fingers disentangled themselves from her hair a moment later. His smooth soft lips brushed her cheek in a gossamer caress that almost made her forget where she was.
Almost.
“You’re lucky, too,” he whispered, his arms looped gently around her. “You have what most people long for.” The words were so quiet, she barely heard them. “Land, a family and a place to call home.” For once she had no desire to contradict him.
They stood there, staring at the stars in each other’s eyes for a long time before Grady set her away, his lips touching hers one final time.
“Good night, Margaret Mary.”
As he walked across the yard to his camper and the lights went on inside, Maggie flopped back down in her chair. The old yearning for something more, something better, rose up inside, deeper and stronger than ever as she started out across the yard.
What she saw wasn’t that great. A rickety old barn that had been patched and repatched. Rusty farm machinery that ran on a piece of gum and a prayer. A drafty old house that cost her a fortune to cool in the hot Canadian summer and even more to heat in the winter.
“It might be home for now, Grady,” she murmured to herself as she slipped inside and tugged the warped door closed behind her. “But it’s just a place to stay until I can find something better. Someplace where we can have everything the girls and I need. And I will find it,” she added fiercely as she climbed the creaky staircase to her lonely room. “I will get a better life for my girls and myself. No matter what.”
Chapter Eight
“Ah! This is the life.” Maggie leaned back in her seat and jiggled her fishing pole slightly, waiting for the slight tug that would give her the next catch of the afternoon.
“Quit bragging,” Grady muttered, casting out again. A disgusted look tipped his eyebrows down. “Two hours and not even a bite. What am I doing wrong, oh great fisherwoman?”
Maggie turned her face away, pretending to study her daughters as they searched the shallows near shore for minnows. The girls had long since tired of fishing with a pole and had opted for a swim, their minnow nets and the freedom to run and yell along the beach.
“I’m waiting,” Grady muttered grumpily. “And if you even think about saying ‘I told you so,’” he growled, motioning at the water, “I’ll dump you overboard and return this monstrosity to your generous neighbor.” His look grew even fiercer at the burst of giggles she couldn’t contain.
“I’m sorry,” Maggie said, laughing and lowering back into the chilly water of the lake the stringer holding the six lovely pickerel. “I told you, this is my lucky lure. It never fails to bring ’em in.” She snapped it across the water with an expert flick of her wrist and glanced at him from the corner of her eye. “Would you like to borrow it?”
“No I would not.” His voice was curt. “I’m using exactly the same lure. How many worms did you put on?”
“Didn’t use ’em,” Maggie asserted, jerking sharply on the line and winding it slowly in. “Don’t need to,” she said triumphantly as she lifted out another prime catch. She could feel his eyes studying her as she whipped the hook out of the fish’s mouth and expertly strung it alongside the last. “It’s all in the wrist action.”
“How come it can’t all be in the wrist when you change oil in your car, then?” he demanded, a trifle sulkily Maggie decided. “I’ve never seen anyone make that big a mess of an oil change.”
“Changing oil is not my forte,” she told him airily. It was hard to miss his “That’s for sure!” seconds later. “You have some areas in which you don’t exactly excel, either, you know,” she reminded him primly.
“Oh, yeah! Name one.”
“Well, for one thing, your color coordination is the worst I’ve ever seen.” She nodded meaningfully at his faded pink shirt and bright red shorts. “The two of those do not belong on one body at the same time.” She giggled at his offended look. “And especially not when the wearer is sporting such a sunburned nose.”
“I got it this morning, teaching your children to water-ski,” he reminded her sourly. “No, actually it was trying to teach you that took so long. I never had so much trouble with anyone else.”
Privately, Maggie wondered if he spent as much time and attention on all his other students. Even now she remembered the touch of his hands on her waist as he’d carefully fastened the life jacket and lifted her onto the dock. She could feel the tingle of electricity between them and recalled the way he’d pushed her hair out of her eyes and hauled her aboard after she’d been swamped in the waves of another boat. She’d been freezing when she got out of the water. He’d rubbed the towel briskly over her back and shoulders, stopping only when his face had been inches from hers and the girls had started giggling.
“I knew you’d keep nattering about that,” she complained now, flushing hotly at his raised eyebrow. “I don’t think it’s very polite.”
“Neither is saying my clothes don’t match,” he retorted with a grin. “Especially when you spilled the bleach on my shirt!”
Maggie could feel the heat traveling up her neck to her cheeks. “You’re the one who came rushing into the house and shoved a great huge slug under my nose. What did you think I’d do—eat it?” She eyed the chilly water of the lake for one mad minute, then tossed away the idea of splashing him. He’d only retaliate.
“How else was I going to get you to take them seriously? I told you weeks ago that they were into the tomatoes and the carrots. You just couldn’t accept my superior knowledge.”
“Superior knowledge!” Maggie could have laughed out loud. “What superior knowledge? You don’t know any more about gardening than I do.” With an agitated flick of her wrist, she jerked in the hook a little too firmly and then had the embarrassment of freeing it from her T-shirt.
“Actually, I do,” he told her smugly. “My mother is the world’s best gardener and she has passed on all her information to me. More than I ever wanted to know.”
“Your mother gardens?” Maggie stared. “Why?” She couldn’t imagine the parent of this tall, meticulous businessman pottering about getting her fingernails dirty. Once more she realized that Grady O’Toole was far more than just a farmhand.
“She loves it.” He wound in his line and glared at the empty hook. “This is very, very frustrating,” he grumbled.
“Here, use my rod and reel,” she offered kindly, rising from her seat and moving to sit on the hull of the boat. “I’ve caught my limit anyway. I’ll even leave the lure on.” She grinned just to show there were no hard feelings.
“There’s nothing wrong with this rod and reel or this lure,” he contended angrily. “Your sister said they’re almost new.” He tossed it against the seat with frustration.
“Oh, well, you see, that’s the problem. Fish know when you’re a serious fisherman and when you’re just playing at it.” She grinned sweetly. “Borrowing a fishing rod? Well, that’s pretty much playing around. Here, try mine. Please?” She watched as he cast the line one, twice, three times without a bite. Grady never said a word but she could feel the tension building at his lack of success.
“Well, there’s one sure thing,” Grady said, and Maggie turned to frown at him, sensing there was some important point he was trying to make. “There won’t be any fishing like this if you move to the city. And I’ll bet Brian doesn’t find much joy in it, either.”
It was like a challenge and Maggie flushed at the scorn in his voice. “Brian is a very nice man. He’s been extremely considerate of us. And the girls like him well enough.” She straightened her shoulders but kept her face averted from those knowing eyes.
“Is that enough for marriage? A father for your daughters whom they like ’well enough’?”
“That isn’t what I meant,” she defended hotly. “Why can’t you understand that I don’t want to live and die without ever having done anything but slave away on this farm? I’m twenty-nine and I feel like I’m forty-five. The world is full of things that I’ve never seen or done. I’m dying here!”
“You’re hardly dying!”
“I am dying inside,” she muttered. “Do you realize that I’m almost thirty years old and I’ve never flown on a plane?” Maggie refused to look at him. “I’ve never been outside my own country, never been to a really formal occasion, never even eaten prawns!” She knuckled her fingers tightly, opening her eyes wide so the tears wouldn’t fall.
“But you can plant a field of wheat straighter than an arrow, help a horse give birth, get a tractor running and with just a few kind words, can comfort any child that comes to you,” he murmured softly from across the boat. “Isn’t that worth something?”
“Don’t you get it? When I finally die, I want to be somebody other than good old Maggie McCarthy from the farm. I want some exciting memories to take with me into old age. I want to experience life!”
He stopped winding for a minute. “Maggie, I didn’t mean…”
“Yes, you did,” she asserted, fixing him with a chilly look. “You seem to think that it’s your right to comment on my wonderfully rustic life, my lack of choices. You have no idea what I need or want in my life.”
“I know you think you’re all alone in this. I know you think God has somehow abandoned you and left you to duke it out for yourself, but that’s not true.” His voice was solemn, softly chiding. “God never leaves us or forsakes us. He’s always there. It’s like that poem about the man who saw his life flashed in scenes and noticed that sometimes there was only one set of footprints in the sand of life. He thought he’d been abandoned. Instead, God had been carrying him through the rough parts.” Grady lay her rod down on the seat and reached over, clasping her hands between his. “I’m here to help, Maggie. And you have lots of friends in town who would love to lend a hand. If you’d ask.”
“I don’t want to go begging my neighbors for help,” she informed him angrily. “I want to be independent and manage things competently on my own.”
“Hmm.” He frowned. “Nobody can do everything themselves, Maggie. And I can hardly imagine that Mrs. Potter thought of it as begging when she asked you to baby-sit her kids for a while last week.”
“That’s different!”
“No, honey, it isn’t.” He smiled sadly. “Everybody needs people in their lives. Otherwise they become self-centered and embittered. There’s only one God, Maggie. The rest of us are mere humans. We need each other.” He brushed one hand over the fall of hair that she could never keep clipped back and tipped her chin, meeting her gaze steadily.
“Can’t you trust in God’s promises, Maggie? Just a little longer?” he asked softly. His eyes were warm and she could have drowned in the peace she glimpsed there. “I care about you, Margaret Mary McCarthy. And the girls. I would never do anything to hurt you. Don’t you know that?”
They were words that Maggie had longed to hear for so long. And she badly wanted to believe them, to relax into the kiss that teased her lips and made her crave more. But years of misplaced hope in a future that never arrived held her back.
“And what happens when you leave and go back to Calgary?” she whispered, drawing away from his touch. “What do we do then?”
She stared at him, remembering all the times he’d eased her load over the past weeks. Without even knowing how, Maggie realized Grady had assumed the hog’s share of responsibility when it came to running the farm. She’d enjoyed this summer more than any other in a long time because of this man. But when he left, when he moved back to his company and his corporate business world, how could she go back to doing it all alone?
“You just keep trusting God to get you through this day and then the next.” He cupped her cheeks in his hands, his thumbs brushing over her sun-warmed skin. “But I’ve got to tell you, lady, I’m not going anywhere. I like being right where I am. As long as you want me around, I’ll be here for you and the girls. You’re going to have to tell me when to leave.”
And then he leaned in and kissed her with a soft sweetness that brought tears to her eyes. She would have kissed him back, would have told him that she felt safe and comfortable with him. Except that there was a whirring sound behind him and Maggie knew only too well what that meant.
“A bite! You’ve got a bite! Grab the rod,” she squealed in excitement as Grady turned around. “Quick! It’s getting away!” She watched in dismay as he missed grabbing the pole and heard the scream of line spinning out over the water. “It’s a big one,” she half whispered. “Really big.”
She made a lunge for the rod which was now wiggling across the seat. But her fingers missed it by inches as the nylon line suddenly jerked and the rod flipped over the side of the boat.
“My lucky lure.” She groaned helplessly, watching it flash downward in the crystal-clear water as the partially hooked fish swept past the side of their boat in what she believed was gloating victory. “My rod and reel!”
There was a sudden splash, and out of the corner of her eye, Maggie caught sight of Grady, fully clothed, diving over the edge of the boat. She stared as he dove downward in the water, saw him grab at something and then surface, gasping for air.
“For goodness’ sake, Grady, get out of the water! You’ll freeze! It’s gone,” she hollered in helpless frustration, watching him glance down once more. “Forget it.”
He muttered something and dove again, swimming so far below the surface, Maggie couldn’t make out his figure in the water. She was almost ready to jump in after him when he came surging to the surface, gasping for air. She yanked and pulled, trying to help him into the ladderless boat.
“It’s gone,” he sputtered, blinking up at her sadly. “I searched as much as I could, but it’s gone. I’m sorry, Maggie. I know it was special.”
“Doesn’t matter,” she muttered, pulling up the anchor and starting the engine as he toweled off. “That’s the way life is, right? Don’t ever get too attached to something, because sure as guns, you’ll lose it.” She deliberately drowned his reply by revving the boat’s engine and then headed straight for shore.
“I should have known better than to dream,” she whispered to herself, pasting a smile on her lips as they neared shore and her twins who were waving madly. Somehow she couldn’t bear to look at Grady’s sad face.
Back in Calgary and for a few hours and Grady O’Toole was sick of its honking horns and rushing traffic. He was sick of meetings that never ended and this ridiculous mental boxing match that had been going on for two days now and showed no signs of a winner. If anyone could come out of this a winner!
“How much do you want, Fiona?” he demanded finally, cutting across her lawyer’s oily tones. He met her green-brown gaze straight on and flinched at the avariciousness he saw there. “You’ve got your own money, you don’t need mine. The company’s folded. I’m being investigated for something you know never happened. My name and my reputation have been dragged through the mud.”
A sudden picture of Maggie’s clear blue eyes rolled through his brain and Grady straightened. It was almost harvest time, and even though he’d finished baling the hay, Maggie would need his help to get that bumper crop off and in the bins. It was time to buckle down to business.
“What is it that you want?”
“Grady, I warned you not to speak.” Harvey’s worried tones hissed in his ear, but Grady brushed him away, his eyes never leaving the beautiful red-headed woman across the
room who was suddenly a stranger to him.
“You’ve taken everything that you could get away with,” he said sadly. “What more do you want?”
Fiona made as if to speak, but her lawyer intervened and the woman whom he’d once thought he loved leaned back in her chair and smiled bitterly.
“Mrs. O’Toole has not come here to cause harm—” the lawyer began, but Grady cut him off.
“She’s not Mrs. O’Toole,” he said clearly. “She never was. Never wanted to be known by my name. Why start now? And quit making speeches. What do you want?” He silently prayed, adding to a long chain of prayers for wisdom and guidance, and then straightened his shoulders. “Let’s get down to business, shall we?”
A tap on the solid oak door of Harvey’s office stopped the other man in midsentence as his friend’s secretary poked her head through the door. Harvey got up and left, returning moments later with his usual implacable smile. He sat down, tapped his file folder against the mahogany table and spoke.
“I’m afraid Mr. O’Toole is not prepared to offer your client anything further than the settlement previously agreed upon. We will be filing a petition in the morning to have him completely absolved of even that responsibility. We have nothing further to say on this matter now. Thank you for coming.”
Grady stared at Harvey in amazement. He wanted this thing over and done with, regardless of what it cost. He wanted to be free of this place and its memories. He wanted, he realized in stunned surprise, to be back on the farm with Maggie and the girls and see the look in their eyes when they ate dinner together tonight.
He was in love with her.
The knowledge staggered him and he shook his head a bit to clear away the fog. He loved Maggie McCarthy. More than he’d ever dreamed. He wanted to be there for her, share the girls with her and make their own special memories on that farm.
“In that case, my client will be filing a new petition of suit in the morning against Mr. O’Toole and any assets he may have.” Fiona’s lawyer named an amount that staggered Grady and sent his gaze winging to Harvey. But that man was smiling slightly, his faded blue eyes glimmering with excitement.