Locked Hearts

by D. Brown

  I hope her wearing his shirt didn’t get her into any hot water with her kids.

  Sam was about two hours too late with that hope.

  When Maggie woke up, David was gone.

  She heard the sound of the television coming from the other room. At least one child was up, probably all.

  They’ll want breakfast, she thought, and forced herself to wake up.

  Maggie rolled out of bed and made her way into the kitchen rubbing the last of what little sleep she was able to muster out of her eyes

  The kids were up.

  David played video games and ate some cereal. Robbie watched TV, and Anna Beth finished up the dishes from last night’s dinner. These were dishes Maggie intended on washing last night before she went to bed, but didn’t.

  Anna Beth said nothing.

  She just gave her mother the quick once over and stepped aside so Maggie could put some water on for coffee.

  It was Robbie who said something first, “Cool shirt. Where did you get it?”

  That’s when Maggie realized she still wore Sam’s shirt.

  The tail hung to her mid-thigh, below her shorts. The top three buttons were undone, revealing the thin nightshirt underneath. The cuffed sleeves fell below her wrists. She pushed them up when she poured some coffee.

  Maggie started to say, “It’s one of your father’s,” when Anna Beth cut her off.

  “That doesn’t look like anything Daddy would wear. It’s too big. That’s not one of Sam’s shirts, is it?”

  Maggie thought she saw her daughter smile. Whatever the look, it squeezed the air from her lungs. What she said next didn’t help much either.

  “David had a bad dream last night, but you weren’t around. I took care of him though.”

  With her back to the family room, Maggie added cream and sugar into her cup. She could only close her eyes and cringe.

  This is getting out of control.

  34

  Maggie had to stay away today.

  She had no choice.

  She hated being at odds with her daughter, lying to her children, cheating on her husband and wondering above all of this when she’d get to see Sam, and be with him next.

  Staying away might have been the easy part. Trying to keep her mind off Sam though was not.

  She thought about little else throughout the day.

  Her life here was coming apart at the seams.

  What happened to David still haunted her thoughts.

  He could have drowned and it would have destroyed her because she let it happen. She didn’t even want to imagine what that felt like.

  Robert did call earlier in the afternoon and Maggie made a point for the kids to see her having a pleasant conversation with their father. She talked to him for almost a half hour, laughed too hard at his attempts to be funny, consoled him when he asked her and the kids to pack up and come home now that the Fourth holiday had passed, and told him she loved him when the time came for her to hang up.

  It was all a façade, nothing more than perpetrating a huge charade for the sake of her children.

  Odd how these guilt trips work.

  She wondered how much of the past twenty years had been a concession to vanity, a charade for the purpose of putting up the front of the perfect family.

  Her feelings for Sam made Maggie question everything about her life before coming to Tybee Island.

  Part of her wished they’d never come, but she quickly pushed that thought from her mind.

  Yes, I am glad I came.

  Yes, I am glad I met you, Sam.

  But please, tell me, what am I supposed to do next?

  Maggie spent the rest of the day and on into the night, avoiding Sam and trying to pretend this morning never happened, that she did not walk out of her bedroom wearing another man’s shirt, and then having to skirt the probing questions from her children as to how she’d come into possession of the shirt and why she wore it.

  Even with the most innocent of intentions, Maggie couldn’t come up with any scenario to ease the nagging voices in her head.

  This does not look good . . . at all.

  I just need to stay away from him, she decided.

  She said little to her kids, instead spending the morning staring wistfully out into the expanse of ocean, vividly remembering the night she’d spent with Sam.

  Maggie smiled as she mulled this over.

  She loved him.

  Her heart belonged to him now.

  Desperately and completely, she loved him . . . and that feeling terrified her as much as it brought her comfort.

  This is still so wrong, she thought, and the damage done is irrevocable. All she had to do was look at Anna Beth to realize this.

  Maggie took the kids where they asked to go. She bought them anything they asked for. She fed them. She took them swimming, fishing too, if they wanted.

  But Maggie’s mind and heart were elsewhere.

  They were with Sam.

  Later in the afternoon Maggie and the kids walked up the beach to the Tybee Lighthouse.

  They needed a break.

  She needed to clear her head.

  She needed to think about something, anything, except Sam.

  This vacation had spiraled dangerously out of control. What was supposed to be two weeks of fun, of relaxation, of recharging the batteries to get ready for the coming school year, instead had become a living nightmare that threatened to destroy her family.

  It was her fault.

  She had met another man and fell in love with him.

  How can I do this to them?

  I can’t.

  Her needs came last.

  Even behind Robert’s?

  In this case, yes.

  She may have been a lousy wife, unfaithful, no longer devoted, her heart given to another man, but above all else, Maggie prided herself in being a good mother. So she suggested after lunch, that they take a walk around the island.

  Go exploring, like they used to. They all loved to hike, and this was nothing more than another hike, only in sand.

  The sun touched the treetops to the west.

  The half-moon eclipsed the horizon beyond the ocean. The walk, she decided, did little to clear her head. It only served as a reminder as to how much she wanted to be with Sam right now instead.

  And that only further played on the guilt festering inside her.

  To the north, the lights from Hilton Head Island began to sparkle one by one.

  None of this would have happened if we stayed there like Robert wanted.

  Maggie’s thoughts were anchored on Sam, his touch, his scent, and the way their bodies became one when he made love to her. She could still feel his touch on her, his lips on her mouth, his hands exploring her, the way he filled her up when he was inside her.

  The reminder of the string of powerful orgasms stirred deep inside.

  “Mother?”

  Maggie blinked away the sudden rush of heat and knew her face flushed a vivid pink right now.

  Anna Beth eyed her curiously.

  “Are you okay?”

  “I think I’m getting a little over heated is all,” Maggie said with a stammer, feeling as if every secret ever held had been laid bare and exposed, “Maybe if I sat down.”

  “Yes, sit down,” Anna Beth said. “You look flushed. Are you sure you’re okay?”

  “A few moments sitting down might help.”

  “You look tired,” Anna Beth said. “Maybe you’re not getting enough sleep. You know, those early morning walks.”

  “What’s that supposed to mean?”

  Anna Beth shrugged innocently, “Nothing mother, nothing at all. You said you liked to take early morning walks. I believe you. Besides, I have no reason to doubt you. You’re my mother, and you’d never lie to me, or to Robbie, or even David.”

  “No,” Maggie said uneasily, “I wouldn’t.”

  “Or Daddy either.”

  Maggie choked back the rising self-loathing and forc
ed out the words, “Or your father either.”

  35

  Sam quit glancing at his watch hours ago, trading clock-watching for the constant stare in the direction of the lighted windows of the house next door.

  He did know the midnight hour approached. He may have been aware of little else tonight, but he was mindful of the time, and didn’t need his watch to remind him. He knew when Maggie and the kids returned home when the lights in the windows suddenly blinked on around dusk.

  They’ve been on ever since.

  Sam hadn’t moved all night, leaving only for a few moments, twice, to go to the bathroom. Finch called around nine and wanted to know if Sam was interested in meeting up at Churchill’s after bowling for a late beer with the boys.

  Sam declined.

  He wasn’t going anywhere.

  “You can’t kill yourself like this, Sam,” Finch said. “You’ll be a dead man by Labor Day.”

  “She’ll be gone in ten days.”

  “My point exactly, and you’ll mourn her leaving until you drop dead. You can’t do this. The sooner you accept the inevitable, the sooner you can get on with your life and put this whole mess behind you.”

  “What if I don’t want to put this whole mess behind me?”

  “Then you’re leaving yourself wide open for a world of hurt, my friend, both for you, for Maggie and those kids.”

  It’s way too late for that, Sam thought.

  This hurt.

  Like hell.

  So Sam stewed.

  He liked Maggie’s kids.

  He didn’t want to hurt them.

  Maybe you already have, his conscience reproached him, which served to make him feel that much worse.

  Shortly after midnight, his cell phone rang.

  Maggie.

  The guilt and remorse, and the hurt washed away, his soul cleansed by the mere mention of her name.

  “Hey,” he said and smiled for the first time all night.

  “Where are you?” he heard her voice reply, with a sense of urgency to it that made Sam almost ask what was wrong.

  “I’m on the porch.”

  “You are?”

  “I am.”

  “So am I.”

  Sam’s smile broadened as he looked through the darkness and saw Maggie starting across the lawn.

  Running, like she couldn’t get there fast enough.

  36

  “I had to see you.”

  Maggie rushed into his arms.

  There were no false pretenses this time, no coy innuendo casually tossed into the fray.

  There was only need this time.

  An insatiable need.

  Sam grabbed for her and swept her off her feet.

  They kissed their hunger now all-consuming.

  He kissed her wherever his lips could find her, on her neck, her hair, her shoulders, all about her face, until their lips found each other, and then they swore they would never be apart like this again.

  They both knew this was a promise neither of them could ever keep, but it didn’t matter to them right now.

  They showered ‘I love you,’ and ‘I missed you,’ in between frantic kisses.

  They cried.

  They laughed.

  Sam’s hands devoured her.

  Maggie’s kisses smothered him.

  They held each other tightly, afraid to let go.

  “I love you, Sam,” Maggie said through her laughter and tears, happy to finally be in his arms, where she belonged, yet her heart breaking, aware of the inevitable outcome. “Oh God, I love you so much.”

  “I’ll never leave you,” Sam swore to her, “Never. I promise you. I will always be here for you.”

  Sam cupped Maggie’s face in his hands, feeling the wetness of her tears spill onto them. He promised to love her beyond a thousand lifetimes, and wait just as long for her if he had to.

  “I don’t ever want to be without you,” he said, “Not another day, not another hour, not another minute or second. I am always here,” he touched her chest, “in your heart.”

  “Oh Sam,” Maggie said and started to cry again. “What are we going to do?”

  Sam was quick to answer, “We’re going to love each other. That’s what we’re going to do. We’re going to take one day at a time, and love each other, completely, totally, and without reservation. We’re going to cherish each day like it’s our last, and welcome each new morning like it’s our first. We will get through this. I promise you that.”

  This will pass.

  “The George Harrison song, ‘All Things Must Pass,’ so shall this.”

  A sense of urgency laced Sam’s voice now, and grim determination burned in his eyes. “I love you, Maggie. I will always love you. Please don’t ever forget that. Always keep my words with you. We’ll worry about tomorrow, tomorrow. We will wait for our time, and we will be patient and bide our time, until our moment arrives.”

  He smiled at her and kissed her nose.

  “And then we pick up right where we left off.”

  Sam took Maggie’s hand and led her back to the porch, where in the dying candlelight he picked up the small box he’d left on the coffee table. He smiled and handed it to Maggie.

  “I want you to have this,” he said.

  “Sam,” Maggie looked from the small box up to him with wide worried eyes, and started to hand it back. “I can’t take this. I‘m still married.”

  Sam closed his hands around hers and the small box, “Yes, you can. Don’t worry. It’s not an engagement ring, not yet.”

  Maggie allowed a smile to soften the pain in her expression.

  “When you give me one, I want to be able to say ‘yes’.”

  “When I give you one, we’ll never spend another moment apart. I promise you that.”

  Sam touched the box.

  “This,” he said, “This is something to tide you over until then.”

  Maggie opened the box and removed a pendant, simple in design – twin hearts, cast in pewter, whose lines laced and entwined, attached to a silver chain.

  “These are our hearts,” Sam said, “Not knowing where one ends and the other begins. I know it’s not much, but it speaks volumes. It‘s Celtic, they’re called ‘Love Knots.’”

  The simplicity of the pendant spoke volumes. It said everything about their love, this new and amazing love that she never thought existed, that she never thought two people could feel for each other.

  She never believed such a love was possible before, not before this.

  Not before Sam.

  “Sam, it’s beautiful.”

  He slipped it around her neck.

  “Wear this when we’re apart,” he said.

  The pendant touched a spot on Maggie’s chest, just above the valley between her breasts.

  “When this touches you, remember my kiss, remember my touch, and remember how happy I am when I’m with you.”

  “How can I forget?”

  Sam smiled, “Wear this over your heart, and know that my heart is with you, always.”

  Sam brushed his thumb against Maggie’s cheek, wiping away the trail of her tears.

  “Don’t cry. Not now. This is our time. I don’t want to waste a moment of it feeling sad, or worrying about what happens tomorrow. We enjoy our moment. We enjoy tonight.”

  He kissed her lightly on the lips.

  “All my todays and tomorrows, as well as my yesterdays, they belong to you.”

  He took her hand in his.

  “You taught me how to love again,” Sam said. “You have done for me in four days what nobody else has been able to do, and helped me feel something inside that has been dead for so long. You gave me back my life.”

  “Sam.”

  “And I don’t care how long it takes or how long I have to wait. I want to be with you. I’ll wait forever and a day if I have to.”

  “Sam.”

  “You have restored my faith in life and all things good, faith in the things I cannot touch, and
belief in that which I cannot see.”

  “Sam.”

  He stopped, “What?”

  Maggie’s lips turned up in a sly smile.

  “Shut up.”

  Sam’s eyes grew wide.

  “What?”

  “Shut up.”

  She drew closer to him, touching him, nuzzling into his chest and looking up into his surprised expression. “Make love to me. Please, now. Make love to me in your bed. Please, Sam.”

  Maggie’s expression pleaded – no, begged Sam to take her, and betrayed her own hunger, her own desire, and her own personal agony that she too wanted something so badly yet could not have.

  “Now, please. I need you.”

  “Don’t just love me,” her voice a small whimper now, choked with want, “Oh God, please fuck me.”

  37

  His house was dark, the only light provided by the dying candle Sam carried in from the porch.

  The late night breeze tossed the curtains inward, sweeping through the house, only marginally impeded on its course up the coastline. The breeze was cool and tasted of salt. The “whish” of the ceiling fans stirred the air inside and caught the sea breeze momentarily.

  He held Maggie’s hand and led her around the furniture, left her alone in his bedroom, bathed in the candle’s soft glow as he poured them each a glass of wine.

  He set them on the nightstand with the bottle chilled in a bucket of ice for later.

  They sat on the edge of the bed, saying nothing for now, Sam’s hand resting on Maggie’s leg, gently caressing her, and Maggie, working on the buttons on Sam’s shirt, almost tearing at them, unable to get his shirt off fast enough.

  Sam pulled at the tail of Maggie’s shirt, slipped the tank top over her head, and slowly eased her back onto the bed. Perspiration glistened on her chest, below the base of her throat, crystal beads sparkling in the candlelight.

  She closed her eyes, lips parted slightly, anticipating Sam’s touch, wanting Sam’s touch, desperately.

  It was a matter of need now.

  Sam smiled at her and picked an ice cube out of the wine bucket.

  He touched the ice cube to the glistening sweat collecting below the base of Maggie’s throat.