by D. Brown
They were late because Maggie spent most of the evening after dinner, trying to decide what to wear. She wanted to wear something nice, but appropriate, casual but understated in its elegance.
She blushed and looked at herself in the mirror, her eye too critical.
I’m old, she thought, then added, but I can still fill out a dress.
Sam thought she was beautiful – the most beautiful thing he’d ever seen is what he said. It’s been a long time since anybody thought that way about her. A long time since she really felt beautiful, and tonight she wanted to look beautiful for Sam.
Gone was the guilt that saddled her for most of the day. It dissipated with the setting sun.
With the coming of night Maggie felt less like the wife and mother, relenting to the dark pull of the shadows, and the even darker behavior associated with them. The night was the time for forbidden lovers and secret assignations.
She embodied the Jekyl and Hyde persona, wife and mother during the day, and the obsession of Sam’s intense passion by night.
Burning the candles at both ends, she quickly realized. Which meant just as likely somebody was going to get burned as well before this ran its course.
Only Maggie didn’t see this as something that would run its course. This was not a passing fancy or whim to her, not to Sam either. She couldn’t imagine a day without Sam as part of her life and that scared her.
She didn’t know how she planned to make it work.
She just knew she no longer loved Robert and wanted no part of any marriage with him.
If it weren’t for the kids, especially David, I’d be gone tomorrow she told her reflection.
Such a revelation did nothing to improve her spirits though. Only the thought of seeing Sam tonight made her smile.
She chose a yellow printed summer dress that fastened around the neck in a low-plunging but tasteful halter-top since she was after all, a mother. The yellow dress also helped show off her new tan.
Maggie knew she no longer carried a model’s figure, but knew, even at her age, she could still market the wares. She still had the legs and she noticed when she looked over her shoulder into the bedroom mirror, a nice rear end.
A string of pearls finished off the trick.
Maggie took her time, deciding to take a bath first, not rushing things, enjoying these moments alone. Normally, she never was able to afford such luxuries. There simply was never enough time.
Baths usually consisted of quick showers, because the others had already used up most of the hot water, towel drying her hair, and applying what little makeup she wore while she dressed David, or ironed someone’s clothes.
While she reclined in the tub, she knew that Sam was outside, not fifty feet away, and the only thing separating them besides a side lawn, were the old walls of her bathroom. There was something oddly sensual in this realization and she let the feeling wash over her.
Two days ago, she couldn’t have imagined this sort of thing happening to her. She couldn’t imagine feeling this way about anyone, not even her husband, let alone someone she’d just met.
What happened?
It was easy to blame this on Robert, and his casual indifference toward her. If he’d been more attentive maybe over the years, she wouldn’t have been led astray, not that Sam led her astray, she chose this just as willingly as he did.
Her husband seldom consulted her opinion, was terribly self-centered, and didn’t even have the forethought to consider somehow Maggie hadn’t been happy with their love life for quite some time.
This wasn’t entirely Robert’s fault.
They’d been married for almost twenty years. Real life, jobs, and kids didn’t leave enough time for something like this. They both had responsibilities. They were parents.
It was hard to feel sensual when you didn’t feel attractive, and their hectic lifestyle, coupled with her husband’s inattentiveness only served to underscore her feelings of inadequacy.
Maggie stayed busy from the moment she woke up until the moment she went to bed, and if she wasn’t busy, Robert was.
They were simply too busy for romance.
Maggie wouldn’t have dreamed of ever taking a leisurely stroll along the beach with her husband like she did with Sam.
First, what would they talk about?
And second, Robert always found something to complain about. Either it was too hot, too many bugs, or too many kids.
Romance didn’t fit into their daily routine anymore. Not entirely true, she corrected, flip-flopping back and forth on both sides of the argument’s fence.
Be honest.
Romance never really fit into their daily routine at all.
The fire had long ago died between them. That’s the real truth, she thought with a touch of sadness.
They existed.
They got by.
They made do.
Maggie quit caring a long, long time ago.
She might have loved Robert as her husband and father of her children, but she hadn’t been in love with him for how long, years?
At least that long, if ever, and certainly never like this.
Yes, Maggie was angry with Robert, and felt betrayed, wanting to blame him for quitting on this marriage first. He no longer cared what it took to please her. He didn’t know how to make her happy anymore – well, did he ever know?
Thinking back, she realized it simply wasn’t part of Robert’s mental or emotional makeup to know what made her happy. He couldn’t do the right thing because he never knew how, or cared to learn how.
Sam did all those little things Maggie needed to feel and said all the things she needed to hear without thinking.
It came naturally.
Last night though, last night was pure magic.
Maggie chose a pair of white sandals with a bit of a heel to accentuate her legs and compliment her summer dress. It had been a long time since she felt really attractive.
She wanted to be beautiful for Sam.
Maggie checked herself in the mirror.
Not bad.
When she stepped out into the great room and turned a quick spin, she asked her kids, “Well? How do I look? Too much?”
David squealed, “Mama! You are so pretty! You look great.”
Robbie whistled, and wanted to know, “Who are you trying to impress?”
Anna Beth said with a suspicious scowl, “Not Daddy.”
29
Maggie took Sam’s breath away.
Everyone saw it and knew it too, except Sam and Maggie, and Sam apparently wasn’t capable of any cognitive thought at the moment as evident by his wide-eyed, slack-jawed expression, much less being capable of breathing.
“Oh this isn’t going to end well,” Wendy Finch whispered to Jeanne Tinken, “Not for anybody.”
“A lot of broken hearts here for sure,” Jeanne Tinken whispered back. “I don’t approve of the being married affair. “Let her get divorced first if that’s what she’s inclined to do.”
“Amen to that,” said Laura McGee.
Introductions and acquaintances were exchanged and renewed, and the ladies created such a fuss over Maggie’s kids, as matronly Savannah women are often known to do.
“Sam, they keep pinching my cheek,” David whined.
Sam fixed Maggie a glass of wine, and told the kids where they could find the soft drinks, iced tea, and lemonade. The three wives noted that Sam did not inquire as to the brand of wine Mrs. Scott desired, only fixed what he either knew or assumed to be the flavor of wine she preferred: Chardonnay over Cabernet or Pinot Noir, California over French or German Riesling.
Such familiarity implied something far more intimate than casual summer vacation neighbors who just recently met. This message was passed among the three wives by subtle side looks, a higher, more evolved form of communication too sophisticated for the men to catch, and so indiscernible, that the younger ladies missed it as well.
Anna Beth may have suspected something improper hap
pening between Sam and her mother, but the Red Hat matrons knew as clearly as if Maggie had confessed the affair to them over brunch this morning at Telfair House.
Scandalous affairs were the rage in Savannah. Like a boathouse on the river, you just couldn’t be accepted among Savannah’s inner society circle without one.
Sam and Maggie, the three wives agreed with familiar nods, would be certain not to disappoint.
The first skyrocket shot in a wide, high arc to the top of the starlit sky at promptly 9:30, trailing a long plume of golden sparks behind it, exploding overhead in a brilliant shower of blue and red.
‘Stars and Stripes Forever’ could be heard up and down the beach on the various radios and boom boxes.
Anna Beth and Robbie left after a courtesy drink and barbecue plate and walked the beach, looking for some of the kids they’d met earlier in the afternoon. This left Maggie with David who sat in his mother’s lap.
Sam sat in his chair on her left.
He rested against the right armrest, letting his right arm dangle over the side, fingers playing in the cool, soft sand, subtly trying to get as close to Maggie as possible without joining David in her lap.
“I think you’re beautiful tonight,” Sam leaned over and whispered between fireworks explosions. He playfully flicked a finger of sand at her feet.
“Stop that!” Maggie hissed back and hushed him with a slap at Sam’s wrist and laughed quietly.
“I didn’t do anything Mommy,” David said and looked up at her over his shoulder.
“I know you didn’t sweetheart,” Maggie said and kissed the top of his head. “It’s Sam. He’s not behaving.”
David looked at Sam and grinned. “Better watch it. You’ll have to go to time out.”
Sam reached over mussed David’s hair. “You’d send me to time out? We’re He-Man Women Haters.”
“Yes,” Maggie looked down her nose at Sam on that one, “I want to know where all this He-Man women hating came from, young man.”
Sam laughed, “It was Finch’s idea.”
Finch heard his name, and rolled his head to the side, “Say, what?”
He’d been reclining in his chair, scrunched in a slouch; legs splayed looking up at the sky overhead.
“He-Man Women Haters, it was all your idea,” Sam said.
“Not me, I’m happily married,” he replied and smiled at his wife, “I worship the ground she walks on.”
“Don’t give me that cat-who-got-the-bird grin, buster,” Finch’s wife said with a snort. “When you smile at me like that I know you’ve done something wrong – again, been around you way too long to fall for that silliness.”
Finch winked at Maggie, “We’ll be married a hundred and thirty five years in October. Happiest five years of my life.”
“You want to sleep out here tonight, Paul? I’m sure Sam won’t mind.”
“Paul, she called me Paul. I’m in trouble now,” another wink. “Okay, it feels like a hundred and thirty five years of blissful happiness.”
“Okay, now I know you’ve done something wrong.”
They laughed, Sam genuinely, and when was the last time he genuinely laughed out loud?
“He-Man’s was McGee’s doing,” Finch decided it was McGee’s turn to be thrown under the bus. “That’s right up his alley. We call him The Spoon because he’s always stirring up trouble.”
“Hey,” McGee sat up, and shifted the cigar butt from one side of his mouth to the other. “Don’t pull me into your little games here. I’m behaving myself.”
“I tell you who started it,” Tin Can said, “Before y’all start looking at me, and that’s Jerry Lee. With three ex-wives, who else would have a better reason to hate women?”
“Careful now,” Jerry Lee said patting the hand of his current girlfriend this month. Her name was Yvonne, “You might be talking to my next ex-wife here.”
Sam spent as much time watching Maggie as he did the fireworks.
He studied her face, caught in the flickering glow of exploding color, memorizing every feature, every idiosyncrasy from her nervously biting her lower lip, to the way she constantly tucked an errant strand of hair behind her ear.
While Sam enjoyed tonight, a mixture of content and anxiety settled over him, laced with the pull of impending and unavoidable dread.
He wanted tonight to last forever.
He didn’t want to leave.
He didn’t want Maggie to leave, and he knew soon she’d be gone and all this would be done too soon.
And over time, after she had returned home to her daily life, his memory of her would fade, and nothing left behind to remind him she’d ever been here.
I don’t even have her picture, he thought with a pull of sadness.
Over time, the image of her face would fade like an old photograph, becoming more and more difficult for Sam to maintain, blurring the lines between what Maggie really looked like, and the image of what Sam had created in his mind.
The fantasy.
His fantasy.
Enjoy tonight, he decided, and worry about tomorrow, tomorrow.
Still, Sam was mindful of the time and its all-too-fast passing.
The fireworks show ended at ten, and Maggie excused herself to get David settled down for the night, but promised she’d be back in thirty minutes.
Sam watched her leave after everyone said their goodnights, watching the easy way she moved, and the gentle sway of her hips beneath the thin material of her sundress.
When he returned his attention to the soft orange glow of the campfire, Sam found three sets of disapproving eyes on him.
The birds of prey swooped down for the attack.
“Sam, did you not see the wedding ring on her finger?”
Wendy fired first, leading the charge, “She’s married.”
“And those children,” Laura McGee added. “Sam, what you are doing will bring nothing but pain and ruin to them. Is it worth that much to you?”
“Your mother raised you better than this, Sam McKenna, I’m sure,” Jeanne Tinken concluded for them.
“I know, I know,” Sam said, “You’re preaching to the choir.”
“Since when have your eyes last seen the inside of a church?” Laura McGee sang in the church choir. “I’m surprised you even know what the choir is, much less be able to find it.”
“I’ve really struggled with this,” Sam said. “I really have.”
Jeanne Tinken, Chapter chairperson of the Red Hats, almost snorted. “Doesn’t look like you struggled too hard, Sam, I take one look at that darling little boy, and I just want to cry. I can’t stand the thought of anything or anyone hurting that little boy.”
“He’s special to me, too.”
“I admire what you did yesterday, Sam, I really do,” Jeanne said. “That took courage. I just hate the idea of you playing on a mother’s vulnerability and gratitude, that’s all.”
“I’d never do that. You know me better than that.”
“I thought I did, Sam. The Southern Baptist in me just doesn’t approve of this, that’s all.”
“I really care for her,” Sam said. “This isn’t just some summer fling, especially given what happened with Diane and all.”
“Tragic my dear, I know,” Wendy Finch replied, “My heart breaks that you had to go through all that.”
“But you should have a greater appreciation for how her husband feels then, Sam,” Jeanne said. “No one would be any happier than us three to know you’ve found someone to love again, but this just goes against the grain of everything I’ve been taught to believe in.”
“Summer flings don’t become you, Sam.”
“This goes beyond just a summer fling, Wendy. I love her.”
“After two days? Come on, Sam,” Tin Can’s wife was not of the era where you fell in love with someone at first sight.
“It happens,” Sam replied. “Sometimes, you know after two minutes. I did.”
“Hey,” Jerry Lee chipped in. “The heart wan
ts what the heart wants. True love won’t be denied. I found that out with my second wife.”
Sam knew Jerry Lee was only trying to help put out the fire, but all he did was further fuel the ire of those he liked to call The Witches of Eastwick.
“Jerry Lee, your second wife ran off with the milkman.”
McGee sets them up.
“I know. Like I said, true love won’t be denied. My second wife and the milkman fell in love over a quart of half and half, and they have enjoyed blissful happiness ever since.”
And Jerry Lee knocks them down.
“You are an incorrigible ass, Jerry Lee Lewis, and I don’t know why my husband keeps you around.”
“Wendy.”
“Don’t Wendy me,” she said. “Must be pity for fools, I guess.”
“Hey,” Finch said, “What’d I do?”
“You woke up this morning,” his wife snapped. “Now hush.”
A half hour later, Maggie rejoined the group around the fire ring carrying a fresh bottle of wine, and a full glass. She slid into her chair next to Sam and slipped off her sandals, tucking her legs under her. She leaned back in the chair basking in the sounds, sights and smells of the ocean night.
“Sam, can you chill this for me?”
Sam said sure and jumped to his feet. He took the wine, and when he did, Maggie slipped a folded piece of paper into his palm.
Sam popped the cooler top and wedged the bottle into the ice. He unfolded the note, which said, “Call me later” with Maggie’s cell phone number printed underneath.
Sam just smiled.
He offered Maggie a smile and a sly wink as he sat back down and slipped the note into his front pocket.
They sat around the fire until the coals were reduced to a dull orange glow.
Maggie’s older kids came home around midnight and quickly said goodnight.
Jerry Lee and Yvonne said goodnight shortly thereafter.
The McGees and Tinkens left together, walking up the beach the two blocks to their homes.
That left Finch and Wendy, and Sam and Maggie seated around the dying fire.
Maggie told Wendy about her children, and their accomplishments, and their mother’s pride in them all. She talked about their life back home, about Robert’s job and why he had been called back home, and what their plans for the future included regarding college for the kids and their retirement years.