“Michael, you okay?” Maggie asked quietly.
“Yeah, I’m fine.” His tone was anything but fine; it was flat and distant.
Maggie sighed and looked out her own window. The Space Needle was in the distance as they neared their old home. The rest of the ride passed in complete silence. The driver parked near the entrance to the parking complex. Michael paid the driver and grabbed their suitcase. He walked hard against the pavement of the parking garage to the elevator. His steps echoed loudly, and Maggie trailed close behind him. She still couldn’t quite understand his suddenly cold behavior.
Seeing their door made Maggie’s stomach feel ill, she hadn’t realized just how difficult this was going to be. Michael unlocked it, and they both entered. Standing side by side in their living room, they stared at their old life. Everything was still as it had been when Michael arrived in Birch Valley. Nothing had changed since Maggie had left. Everything felt foreign. The home itself felt cold and strange. Maggie became eager to start packing away any leftover memories. She wanted the house emptied and sold.
Michael reached for her and quietly said, “It’s weird being here, huh?”
Maggie agreed and nodded. “Yeah, I didn’t think it would feel like this. This used to be our home, but it doesn’t feel like it anymore.”
“I know. The sooner we pack it up and get it sold, the better. We still have to go my dad’s place, that’s going to be hard.”
“It will be, but we will get through this together.” She slipped her fingers through his, clamping her hand tight against his, giving it a tender squeeze.
***
The gray morning light filtered in through the large living room window. Maggie stood looking into the open fridge, it was completely empty. So much for breakfast.
“Sorry, I cleaned it out when I left, I didn’t want anything to spoil. I didn’t have a whole lot in there to begin with,” Michael explained as he peeked inside the cupboards, finding them practically bare.
“Should we go out and get coffee and something to eat before we get started?” The beauty of living in the downtown district was that everything was within walking distance.
“Yeah, we’d probably better. We have our work cut out for us today.”
The outside air smelled of a mixture of raw ocean and damp city streets. Maggie sniffed the scent, it was so different than Birch Valley, but Seattle used to be home. Now she felt disconnected, like she was only a visitor to a place she had lived at for almost eight years. They walked to a small coffee shop only a couple of blocks away from the condo, the rich aroma a pleasant distraction from the air outside. Maggie inhaled it deeply, savoring the smell of roasted gourmet beans.
The ambiance was trendy and modern, the customers were a blend of uptight looking professionals en route to their downtown offices, and hipsters wearing thick reading glasses and scarves and beanies, even though the temp was warm. Maggie, who once dressed sharp and just as chic as everyone in that room, now felt utterly out of place, like a fish out of water. She was no longer a Seattleite.
“What do you want to order?” Michael asked, interrupting her observations as she was taking in the scene.
“Probably just a mocha, and maybe a scone or muffin, if they have it,” Maggie answered, tucking her hands into her jeans as they waited in line. She felt her body bopping to the pop music that was a little too loud, especially for this early in the morning.
Michael looked all around as well. Maggie wondered if he was missing Seattle; it was all he had ever known. These were his stomping grounds, this was where they met and started their life together. Maggie felt a shred of guilt that she didn’t feel a little regret in leaving. She was anxious to pack up the house and get home.
As the line moved efficiently, they placed their order and found a table next to a large window with an expensive view.
Holding onto her large paper cup, letting the warmth travel through her hands, Maggie sipped the hot drink and let out an appreciative sigh.
“Good, isn’t it?” Michael asked, his eyes still not quite connecting with hers.
“So good. Michael, what’s going on with you? You’ve been so quiet since we got here.” Maggie held onto her cup as she waited for his answer.
He shrugged, the muscles in his strong arms bulged with the casual movement. Michael was wearing a Seattle Mariner t-shirt that a little snug against his broad chest and shoulders, and the bold, blue color looked great against his naturally tanned skin.
“Come on, something’s up, what is it?” Maggie reached across the tiny table for his hand.
Michael’s fingers played lightly against the supple skin of her palm as he answered, “I don’t know, it’s so weird being here. A part of me misses it, to be honest. But, at the same time, there are almost too many memories.”
Maggie frowned sympathetically. “I know. You know, we can always come here to visit.”
“What would be the point? There isn’t anything really here for us now.”
Maggie shook her head, she knew this wasn’t easy for him. “That’s not true, I’m sure we will need to come and catch a Mariner game at some point.” Michael laughed unexpectedly, it warmed Maggie to see him smile.
***
They had been working on packing up their belongings for most of the day, sorting things that would need to be donated. How did they accumulate so much stuff in such a tiny place? Michael carried another box and lined it up against the wall with the others that were to go into the moving truck. Maggie sat on the couch to take a break, she was beyond exhausted, and her body had no problem telling her it was time to take a rest. They worked great as a team; together they tackled the living room first, clearing a side for all the boxes to go to Birch Valley, and a separate area for donations. Melanie’s room was a little painful, sorting through toys, clothing, and her art projects. So many memories flooded Maggie, thinking about the last eight years was hard. There were happy times throughout those years, but for the most part Maggie had felt lost and alone, that she didn’t even know her husband. He wasn’t the same person who now stood only a few feet away from her. Michael had changed so much over the course of time; things were different, he was now more like the man she had first fallen head over heels in love with.
Michael stretched, raising his long arms over his head before he asked, “Are you getting hungry yet? I was thinking maybe we could order a pizza or get a little fresh air and walk to somewhere, see what we find.”
“That sounds good, I could use a break from here.” Maggie got off the couch and walked toward Michael. She looped her arms around his torso, her cheek flat against his chest, and she inhaled his scent. He wrapped her up in his arms, laying his head on top of hers. Maggie felt content for the first time since arriving. “I love you.”
***
Maggie laughed so hard she almost choked on a thick noodle from the delicious pasta that filled the large bowl in front of her. She reached for the glass of lemon water to wash away the culprit, and wiped the tears from her eyes. She hadn’t laughed that hard with Michael in a long time, and it felt great.
Earlier they had walked in search of food and remembered a little hole-in-the-wall Italian place that they had always wanted to try, but never did. The food was amazing, the flavorful sauce and the aroma of garlic with hints of basil wafted through the air. The tables had red and white checkered table cloths, with jarred candles in the center, casting a lovely glow. The restaurant was cozy, soft music played in the background, the decor was traditional old country Italian, and yet there was a modern flare. The giant cans of olive oil neatly lined up on the shelves on the walls reflected the candlelight and soft track lights on the ceiling.
“God, this food is so good.” Maggie slurped another noodle, feeling a little splash of sauce hit her chin. Michael noticed it too; he gingerly used his thumb to remove it and put it in his mouth. Just seeing him do that sprouted all sorts of tingly feelings; she knew what his mouth was capable of.
“You
ready to go home?” His eyes were dark like coal under the shadow of the low lighting, but his gaze held unmistakable desire.
“Eat your food, if you are good, we can order dessert,” Maggie playfully scolded.
He gave her a sexy grin, and his voice, utterly seductive, said, “I’d rather have you for dessert.”
Maggie laughed again; her sides actually were starting to hurt now. All night he had been joking and endearing, it reminded her so much of when they were dating. Maggie could feel herself falling in love with him all over again.
***
After dinner last night, they went home and had dessert, which certainly didn’t involve food. Michael and Maggie woke up early, grabbed a coffee, and packed up the remaining items. The local charity center had already come to accept the donations. They had accomplished a great deal, and it wasn’t even noon yet. The game plan for that beautifully warm Sunday was to grab the moving truck, drive over to Michael’s dad’s home, and then meet the hired loaders by five that evening.
The sun bounced off the glass skyscrapers in downtown Seattle as they took a cab to the moving truck rental lot just outside of the city to pick up, what seemed to Maggie, a truck that was way to large for the task at hand. Michael assured her they would fill it. She knew she needed to trust him. She was just more concerned about him driving it through the tight and narrow streets of Seattle. She was sure they could fill it, her worry was more about side-swiping cars when they actually had to drive the beast.
The drive through Seattle to where Michael’s dad’s house was terrified Maggie. With the sharp turns and the narrow passages, she found herself gripping the dash and holding her breath. Michael begged her to relax, he seemed completely at ease behind the wheel of the monstrous truck. Maggie let out a large breath as relief flooded her when she saw his father’s home. Michael parked along the curb in front of the home and turned off the truck. He grew quiet and stared at the house.
Maggie reached over and put her hand on his thigh, she patted him softly and said, “It’ll be okay.” She could imagine what thoughts were spiraling out of control in his mind.
Michael hadn’t mentioned his father’s death since coming to Birch Valley, it was as though he was escaping all that had troubled him in Seattle. Now his left over emotions had bubbled to the surface.
He gave her a tight lipped smile. “I know, thanks, babe.”
Maggie was happy they were closer, and that she could be his pillar of strength. When his father had passed early in the spring, their marriage was cracked and just about ruined, and as disconnected as they had been, she tried to be a loving support for him. She wanted to hold him up during his vulnerable time of sorrow, but that wasn’t how it played out. They fought, and she left shortly after the funeral, thinking that their marriage was over.
Michael got out of the truck and came around to open her door and help her out. She felt like she was exiting a monster truck, the tires were enormous, heck, the entire truck was gargantuan. They walked hand-in-hand along the stairs leading to a large double front door. Michael fished the keys from his pocket, slid them into the locked door easily, and opened it.
The entrance was just as Maggie remembered, with a dark slate stone floor. The house displayed wealth and taste, but it was empty of light and life. She had only been to the house a few times. Maggie never recalled it feeling warm or comfortable, it was so different than her parents’ home. It was the type of place where you sat straight on the couch, no slouching or actually cozying up, and you certainly didn’t put your glass down for fear of leaving a ring on the fine wooden tables. It was not a house for children; the interior was decorated with rare artifacts, at least they seemed that way to Maggie. Tall vases of varied sizes were everywhere, sculptures and art strategically placed in perfect lighting for proper viewing. This was more of a museum than a home to raise a son in. But it was Michael’s childhood home. The wooden and stucco shell held all of his memories growing up, and she knew from what he had told her most of them weren’t very happy.
Maggie rubbed Michael’s lower back as they stood in muted breath taking in the residence. She could sense the tension in his body as she asked, “You okay?”
When he turned to meet her gaze, she could see the wetness pooling at the rim of his eyelids, threatening to spill over. It broke her heart witnessing the pain he was undoubtedly experiencing. She pulled him to her and held him.
Time stood still; it hung in the balance, waiting. Michael wiped his eyes and cleared his throat. “I just wanted to do a walk through again before I call the agent to list the property. I’ve already hired a team to come in and move everything into storage for us to handle later.”
He started moving toward the expansive living room with the giant fireplace, which seemed to be crawling up toward the high vaulted ceilings with the exposed beams. The room was breathtaking. Maggie followed closely behind him. He was walking with purpose, a business-like pace, his jaw tight, and his eyes focused and serious. He looked every inch the attorney he used to be. Michael paused, as if taking mental inventory of the prized possessions. It wasn’t as though he wanted anything, there were no childhood mementos that he would cherish. His parents had quickly gotten rid of all the effects of his young years once he was a teenager. His old bedroom was promptly remodeled into a showcase guest room. Maggie couldn’t imagine her mother ever changing anything. Her room was still the same as it had been when she left for Seattle. Over the last six years, it had been Maggie’s suggestion to make it a little more suitable as a guest room, but Mary insisted keeping it fairly reminiscent of Maggie’s life there.
Michael’s stride was quick as he leaped up the wide staircase. He glanced back at Maggie and said, “You don’t need to come up, I won’t be long.” He continued up the stairs.
She was curious why he didn’t want her to follow him. Maybe he needed space to sort the jumbled emotions he was going through. Maggie strolled back into the living room, examining different art on the wall. His mother had had an excellent eye; the pieces were colorful and simply exquisite. Maggie, who enjoyed painting, and had been fairly good at it at one point, wished she could have been closer to her husband’s mother. They could have talked about their favorite artists and maybe went to a gallery, but she wasn’t that kind of woman. She barely tolerated being a parent and didn’t have much room available in her heart. It wasn’t until Melanie was born that Maggie had seen her warm a little, but she was tragically gone too soon. Her death had crushed Michael and his father, but it brought them closer, which in its own way was a blessing. Michael had been basically shunned by his father, but once his mother had died they leaned on each other, changing their relationship for the better. Maggie knew that his sudden death had torn him up. But with death came life; such was the full, ever-changing circle. She felt that change kicking and stretching inside her as she placed her hand over her belly, cradling the moving lump under her skin.
“They would have loved you very much,” Maggie said to her baby. She didn’t hear Michael return, but caught a glimpse of his figure as he stood watching her.
“They really would have,” Michael said as he went to her and placed both of his hands on her belly. He kneeled down and kissed her stomach. “Hey, you in there, Daddy loves you.”
Maggie released a giggle, she knew Michael would continue to grieve, but the little life inside her would carry on their memory, pieces of them would live on, as they did with Melanie. That was the beauty of family.
***
Maggie stood in the center of their nearly empty living room. The movers were loading the last bit of boxes and furniture. The place felt so odd; it looked a lot bigger with everything removed. She had swept, mopped, and scrubbed every surface from top to bottom, her body ached, but the deep clean smell was worth her efforts.
“This is the last of it,” Michael announced as he picked up a couple of boxes. Two younger men dressed in matching uniforms used a hand truck to load another tower of boxes that were stacke
d near the hall by the entrance. Michael followed them out, but not before winking at Maggie and flashing her a half grin.
Maggie grabbed a leftover roll of paper towels and sprayed window cleaner on the large living room window. She wiped the surface, ridding it of any streaks or smudges and then watched the traffic roll past. She had spent many nights staring out this same window, waiting, wondering, and worrying. The day had been a rollercoaster of emotions, highs and lows. Maggie felt drained. She was thankful that they had accomplished what they had set out to do.
After the movers had gone, Michael leaned against the counter, surveying the space.
“I’m so glad that’s over,” he said, covering his mouth as he tried to stifle a yawn.
“Me too.” Seeing him yawn caused her to release one of her own. Both were worn out and near starving.
“Sleep or food?” Michael asked as he rubbed his face hard, a feeble attempt as he tried to shake away some of the exhaustion.
“Well, we haven’t eaten much, but God, I’m so tired too.”
“It’s our last night here, and you know what sounds fantastic right now?”
Nothing sounded fantastic right then, they were hungry, dirty, and tired. They were planning on sleeping on a blow up mattress so they could easily load it into the truck the following morning. She hated sleeping on those things, but Maggie was a trooper and was willing to suffer to get the whole moving process over with. Right then, showering and sleeping was high on the priority list, but she entertained Michael’s question.
“Hmm, not sure, what?” Maggie feigned interest.
“A bread bowl with the best clam chowder in Seattle,” he stated very matter-of-factly.
That did sound delicious and wonderful: the creamy concoction, with its bits of tender clam meat, roasted corn, chunks of potatoes, and the perfect blend of seasonings. She drooled as she envisioned the warm, crusty bread that was served with it.
Maggies Marriage (Cloverleaf #2) Page 23