Locked Hearts

by D. Brown

  This warmth told her, “I want this man and everything he has to offer,” and she berated herself for such schoolgirl fantasies.

  “Let it go,” she said to the darkness, “Just let it and him go, Maggie.”

  But she couldn’t get Sam out of her head.

  Over and over again, his words danced across her thoughts, “You’re a Little Miss Priss living your Little Miss Priss life.”

  “I am not a Little Miss Priss,” she said, and remembering the condescending tone in Sam’s voice made her angry all over again.

  Your marriage is a farce Maggie, and I’ve only known you for two days.

  Your husband is a manipulative control freak and you’re more a possession than a wife.

  You didn’t almost lose me because I was never yours to lose in the first place.

  “You presumptuous bastard,”

  Maggie threw back her comforter, swinging her feet out of bed.

  “You judgmental, presumptuous bastard.”

  She stormed out of her bedroom and headed for the front door, taking a piece of her mind with her.

  Sam heard the whine of screen door springs, followed by the crisp whap of the door swinging shut. Through the fog of his self-pity he wasn’t sure if the screen door’s whine was real or a trick of wishful thinking.

  His head swirled with wine and regret. Sam wasn’t angry with Maggie, just frustrated with the moment, a little hurt and full of self-loathing for his Puppy Love antics.

  He admitted, more embarrassed, than hurt.

  No guy likes to be interrupted in the middle of an impending kiss.

  It makes him look silly, like the fish David caught this afternoon, his mouth working up and down, kissing empty air.

  Sam felt damned foolish then.

  Now, he was just sorry.

  He’d resolved it in his mind to tell her so in the morning and had long ago given up on seeing Maggie anymore tonight when he heard the screen door from next door.

  Please God don’t let that be the wine talking.

  Odd prayer to offer up, but Sam was never much of a praying man himself.

  Lightning flashed again and frozen in the silver strobe, Sam saw Maggie’s image storming across the yard.

  She didn’t look happy.

  A bellow of thunder accompanied her.

  Sam stood on tired legs, sweeping the last of the wine’s cobwebs from the rafters of his mind and moved across the porch to the steps where he met Maggie as she reached the bottom step.

  Clear head Sam, he said, don’t mess it up this time.

  You might not get another chance after this.

  Tell her how you feel.

  Try to keep the emotions of the moment out of it, and they overwhelmed him right now.

  I love her.

  He knew that as soon as he saw her frozen in the flash of lightning.

  I am falling in love with her.

  But when he saw Maggie illuminated next, Sam doubted if he’d ever get the chance to tell her.

  She was pissed.

  And with good reason.

  Maggie marched up to Sam’s porch, “I have one thing to say to you Sam McKenna, and you’re going to stand here and let me say what I have to say.”

  Sam could only look at her and think, my God she’s beautiful.

  “No running off this time. No smart ass interruptions, either. You’re going to listen to what I have to say. Understand?”

  He started to say something coy, but thought better of it.

  “Want to sit down?” Sam asked instead and motioned to the cover of the porch behind him. “It’s about to rain. We’re about to get wet.”

  “No thank you. What I have to say to you I can say out here in the rain and standing up.”

  Maggie didn’t wait for Sam to reply.

  “When the lifeguards pulled you out of the water this afternoon, Sam I was terrified,” her voice wavered. “I thought you were dead. I thought it was my fault too, since it was David, and seeing you like that,” she struggled with her composure and did not want to cry. Not now, and definitely not here in front of him. “Sam, it scared me more than anything I’ve ever experienced before in my life. I felt responsible for what happened to you out there. If you would have died, it would have been my fault.”

  The wind whipped about her, slapping sand at her bare legs and whipping the loose folds of her t-shirt. Sam noticed her legs and the desire to touch her staggered him.

  “My heart broke at the possibility that I had lost you, Sam. You looked dead when they brought you out of the water. You had no color. You had no muscle tone. You weren’t a person anymore you were just a body, an inanimate thing then. It scared me.”

  “Maggie . . .”

  Sam noticed her curves beneath the thin T-shirt and the tapered smoothness of her legs where the shirt hit her at mid-thigh.

  He tried to look away, but failed miserably.

  “And then to call me a Little Miss Priss? What purpose did that serve other than to hurt me? That was a vicious and cruel thing to say.”

  She stopped, and turned her back to him.

  Maggie didn’t move.

  “I care about you,” she said in a low voice nearly swallowed by the gusting wind, “Very much. I know we’ve just met, and I know this is wrong, but I haven’t been able to think clearly since that first time I saw you.”

  “I told you,” Sam said, not knowing how else to explain things. Words that once flowed easily for Sam, a man who made his living with them, suddenly snagged at the top of his throat. “The gun wasn’t loaded.”

  He reached out to touch her shoulder, but she jerked away and moved out into the center of the yard near the fire ring.

  “This has nothing to do with the gun,” Maggie said, “but everything to do with you.”

  Maggie turned and faced him now.

  “Robert is a fine man. He’s a fine provider, a good father; a good man . . . I love him . . . I love him,” maybe Maggie said this as much to convince herself as to tell Sam, “But . . .”

  Maggie’s first tear spilled as lightning split the sky apart.

  The first drops of rain followed the thunder to the ground, striking the porch tin roof like so many thrown pebbles, smacking into the sand around them with a muffled splat, pushed by the rushing wind to sting the cheek.

  “I can’t help it that I’m not in love with him anymore.”

  Sam took a step forward, and Maggie held up a hand to stop.

  “I hate it that you make me feel this way. I hate how you make me feel.”

  Sam pressed forward, pushing nearer, oblivious of the rain.

  Maggie backed away as if pursued and threatened.

  Maybe she was.

  You own me, she wanted to tell him, and that scares me.

  “How do you feel?”

  “Please,” Maggie said, “Don’t.”

  He had stripped her bare and had lain naked the very core of her soul. “Please don’t.”

  “No,” Sam took another step forward.

  “I’m a married woman,” Maggie pleaded, crying now. “I have a husband. I have a family, and I don’t want to hurt my children.”

  “This is wrong, Sam,” and that’s when Sam took her in his arms and kissed her.

  She fought him at first, struggling against his grip, but Sam pressed his lips into hers, hard, all consuming, overwhelming her, pulling her close into him, dissolving her defenses and whatever resistance she tried to offer. He felt her lips part to accept him and a small whimper of despair and desire escaped them.

  “No!”

  Maggie pushed away and jerked her arms free.

  She looked at him, anguish and horror pulling at those beautiful lines of her face.

  She ran away, not heading home, she couldn’t bear to go home right now, not with the mound of guilt pressing down on her and the spark of raw desire fighting to free itself from beneath it, but instead she ran for the walk bridge and the beach below.

  “Maggie, wait!
”

  Sam’s words were snuffed out by the harsh bark of thunder.

  “Dammit!”

  The storm unleashed its fury now, pent up anger that could no longer be denied and it vented its rage in slashing torrents of wind and rain.

  “She's going to get us both killed,” he said as he started off after her.

  Sam chased Maggie across the bridge as cords of lightning trailed from sky to ground and thunder split the air like rifle shot.

  This isn’t good.

  “Maggie, wait!”

  Sam saw the faint white smear of her T-shirt through the driving rain. He chased after her.

  Come on Maggie, this isn’t funny.

  Her taste lingered on his lips, her touch – my God – her touch was like nothing he’d ever experienced before. The memory of the way she felt in his arms crumbled his heart to dust.

  Maggie consumed him.

  She owned him, heart and soul.

  The rain matted his hair to his face and his shirt clung like a second skin to his back. The intense fury of the lightning, the cutting wind and stinging rain washed away any residue of the wine, sharpening his senses like a charge of tonic.

  At the waterline, Sam looked up and down the beach, knowing they shouldn’t be out here in this weather, concerned about the storm, more concerned about Maggie.

  25

  When she reached the water line, Maggie did not know where to turn next, not thinking her mind swirling, her heart reeling, feeling the forcefulness of Sam’s kiss lingering still on her lips, the slight burn where his whisker stubble rubbed against her chin.

  Her shirt was soaked and hid very little about her.

  Maggie didn’t care, never gave it a second thought. She only felt the walls closing in about her, suffocating her, the pull of guilt from her family in a tug-of-war with the surge of desire drawing her toward Sam.

  A jagged tear of lightning flashed midnight to noon and the sharp concussion of thunder knocked her to the ground.

  Only it wasn’t thunder that knocked her to the ground.

  It was Sam.

  He landed hard on top of her.

  Sam grabbed Maggie around the waist as the bolt of lightning cut through the air overhead. The surge of energy raised the hair on his arms, and his teeth ached as if he’d chewed on foil.

  That was close.

  He fell on top of her, shielding her body with his, knowing he offered little protection when the lightning was capable of frying them both to a crisp.

  Maggie screamed.

  Sam’s tackle – she suddenly feared he’d become the murderous psychopath Robert warned her he was and planned to have his way with her before killing her, chopping up her body and feeding it to the sea.

  “Get off of me!”

  She squirmed, trying to wrench free from his grasp, but Sam held her fast and firm, pinning her hands against the wet sand.

  “Stay down! Dammit, will you sit still? You're going to get yourself killed!”

  “I hate you!”

  Her face lay inches from his, his body pressing into hers. Sam was aware of every inch of her, the touch of her beneath him.

  “Great! Hate me later! Just sit still!”

  Suddenly the storm didn’t matter, the rest of the world ceased to exist, and whatever moral dilemma pulling at his heart and conscience no longer seemed significant.

  All that mattered now was her, Maggie.

  “I love you,” he whispered in her ear.

  He held her close as if holding on for dear life, never wanting to let go.

  His lips brushed against her cheek, tasting rainwater mixing with the salt of her tears.

  The rain fell harder as thunder and lightning battled for supremacy of the sky. The driving gusts of the squall line pushed the rain forward, matching the fury of their passion. The driving sting of wind-slashed rain whipped about them.

  And that’s when Sam kissed Maggie.

  Again.

  And Maggie, this time kissed him back.

  The kiss was almost reluctant at first, a tentative brushing of the lips.

  Sam tasted the cherries he imagined, and let her intoxicating scent carry him away.

  Maggie tasted the wine’s lingering sweetness on his breath as desire’s warmth emanated from deep inside her, where her dreams lived.

  His probing touch electrified her, more than the slashes of lightning above.

  Everything about him made her long for something she had never known before: the unbridled release of passion, the way he looked and the ease in which he moved, those eyes that sparkled with mischievous excitement, and the intensity quietly burning behind them, the ease at which they talked about anything, and the want – No, the need to be consumed by him.

  Their kiss was a starving man’s first meal, an anxious first step down a road neither of them had ever traveled before.

  Lips parted to invite more.

  Each offered more, and each took it.

  The thunderstorm unleashed its full wrath.

  A long, gnarled finger of lightning touched sea to sky, and thunder echoed an almost savage bellow of defiance.

  The wind blew in whirling gusts.

  Rain slashed sideways in sheets.

  Yet Mother Nature could not match their passion.

  When Sam kissed Maggie, everything that had been wrong with his world before, seemed right.

  Maggie turned her face so that her lips found his, surrendering the fight now. Completely consumed by him, she gave of herself to him completely and totally.

  She loved him.

  She loved him with all her heart.

  Maggie knew this now, and perhaps she always knew this.

  She just hadn’t realized it yet.

  Sam ignited something within her that she never believed existed, that she never thought she was capable of feeling for anyone other than her children; certainly not another man.

  This complete and unconditional love, it changed everything.

  True love, so this is what it feels like.

  Her heart pitched headlong into the great abyss of sweet oblivion, knowing Sam was there with her, at her side, without beginning or end, infinite always, no longer him, no longer me, but us.

  The thunderstorm raged as the rest of the world ceased to exist.

  All that mattered was each other, two becoming one, locked hearts, not knowing where one ended and the other began.

  For Sam, his world was Maggie, and for Maggie, Sam.

  If a picture was worth a thousand words, then for Sam, this moment with Maggie was worth a thousand pictures.

  For Maggie, she surrendered.

  She gave herself completely and willingly, holding nothing back.

  Tomorrow be damned, if Maggie could formulate a thought, she might have considered this. But the sweet oblivion Sam McKenna showed her swallowed her whole.

  “I just want you,” ragged his words were, raw, “God forgive me, I want you.”

  Maggie gasped as he entered her, hungrily as it had been so long since he’d known a woman’s touch in this way.

  Never have I felt this about anyone ever before. As she consumed him, electric shocks coursed up his arms.

  Her touch stole his breath.

  Sam held on tightly, pulling her close, pressing deeper into her, afraid, if he let her go, she’d be swept away, forever lost, a wraith almost, the night’s last dream before waking.

  Their hands found one another, exploring, pulling at soaked clothes; tearing at fabric when buttons wouldn’t cooperate.

  Maggie allowed Sam into her heart as much as she allowed him to enter her body.

  This was where he belonged.

  This was where she belonged now too.

  His hands ran over her back, her sides, everywhere; starving, seeking nourishment from her touch. She parted her lips and felt the moisture of his tongue against hers. He kissed her neck, her cheek, and as his hands slid up her thighs, grabbing her, pulling her closer still as if he couldn’t
get deep enough and they couldn’t become one enough.

  His hands found her breasts and Maggie’s breath caught in her throat.

  They kissed again, and again, the world around them dissolving into fragments of abstract and unreal images.

  Lightning cut the sky to shreds.

  Wind and rain joined as one just as they had become one.

  Thunder bellowed its approval.

  Deep from within the tremors started, building in crescendo with the storm’s fury, each surrendering to it, welcoming this new state of consciousness, being allowed to open their eyes in awareness of the other’s true being for the first time; seeing how each had always been there, this love had always existed, simply waiting for the other half of their souls to arrive.

  Together they looked into the heart of forever and saw the thousands of lifetimes that awaited them.

  Maggie cried out as the waves consumed her, wrenching free of the tether that once moored her to the safe harbor of what had been until now a contentedness with her life.

  Sam threw back his head and surrendered to the anguish and agony of a love he knew would ultimately destroy him, his heart being torn from his soul, a gaping wound never allowed to heal.

  I am doomed to languish in the ecstasy of your love.

  My soul is no longer mine to call my own.

  My heart goes with you always.

  “I love you,” Sam said as held Maggie tight, afraid to let her go. “I love you.”

  Maggie’s hands closed about Sam’s head, clenching fistfuls of hair and pulling him into her again, whispering into his ear over and over as he whispered into hers. “I love you.”

  They lay there in the wet sand for a long time, not wanting this moment to end and afraid to let go of the other and slip off into that abyss of oblivion from which there was no return.

  Darkness for now was their ally.

  As the rain lessened and the cold set in, they rinsed off in the water.

  “I think I threw my back out,” Sam moaned as he fell backwards into the next cresting wave. “I’m not a 25-year-old anymore.”

  “You?” Maggie splashed water in his face. “I have sand everywhere, and when I say, ‘everywhere,’ I mean ‘EVERYWHERE!’”