by D. Brown
He thought he detected movement somewhere within the porch shadows, a shifting of darkness as he took his first few tentative steps to her front gate. He stopped on the front walk, eyeing the shadows, trying to see beyond them, and opened the small front gate.
Afraid of his next step, he shuffled forward.
Then he heard something and Sam froze.
It’s probably my knees shaking.
He opened the front gate and slowly started up the short front walk.
Sam held the cloth wrapped bundle in the crook of his arm and made his way down the narrow front walk, his eyes glued to the front door, hoping and terrified in the same breath that she’d be there and open it.
There’s no reason to be scared.
Come on Sam, you’ve been waiting your whole life for this moment.
Exactly.
What Sam heard as he made his way up the sidewalk was a gasp.
Maggie’s gasp.
“My God.”
And then the hiss of a shocked whisper.
“It’s you!”
51
A candle burned on a small table set between two rocking chairs arranged in front of the curtain drawn picture window. One of the rocking chairs was occupied; the other seemed to wait for its owner to return, or maybe to arrive for the first time.
The candle threw a soft orange light about the deep recesses of the front porch that caressed the night’s advancing shadows.
A fisherman’s net draped from the porch ceiling in the near corner next to the front door stoop, and hooked into the netting were an assortment of ocean debris: sea shells, driftwood, sand dollars, and dried seaweed. A captain’s barometer hung from the porch wall in the corner on the opposite side of the picture window. A ship’s lantern dangled from a hook above the flagstone porch railing where Sam guessed a hanging basket containing spider ferns or impatiens blossoms might have hung once upon a time.
Sam smiled when he saw this.
Maggie’s front porch looked just like his.
His eyes adjusted to the deep shadows and he saw her, sitting in the nearest rocker, the chair still now, her hands gripping the armrest. The look of shock remained suspended on her face, those delicious brown eyes wide.
Hers was the most beautiful face in the world to Sam.
And he fell in love with her all over again.
A soft smile turned up the corners of his mouth.
Didn’t matter what happened now, he was with her again, finally.
All that had been wrong with his life from the moment she left him had suddenly been made right. He saw her face, and, no, she was not a dream, but yes, she was very real, and she was still the most beautiful thing he had ever seen.
As beautiful now as the first time he saw her standing at his back door.
Sam stepped up onto the porch, yet Maggie had yet to move.
Disbelief, laced with the fear that she’d lost her mind and taken to hallucinating froze her expression in shock.
He swallowed back the nervous panic and looked at her.
His heart swelled and the world was suddenly right again.
Sam then produced the cloth wrapped bundle he carried with him all the way from Tybee Island.
This, his most precious cargo.
Maggie regarded the bundle with a curious frown, but still could not move.
“Hi,” he said.
“You’re here,” she said oh so softly.
Slowly, Sam peeled back the folds of material.
“You forgot something,” he said, and held out his hand.
Maggie frowned, not sure what she saw, not recognizing the unfamiliar contours of what Sam held in his hands.
But it only took a moment; then she knew.
The back of her hand came to her mouth as the tears fought free of their barriers and spilled down her cheeks.
Sam held a coffee cup.
Filled with sugar.
Her coffee cup.
It was the same coffee cup she carried with her the day they met, when she looked through his screen door. The same cup she dropped and shattered when she saw Sam.
The same cup Sam had meticulously pieced back together, and saved all these years.
Now holding sugar, which leaked through the stray gap and fissure where stone fired glass had not fit perfectly back together and gathered like white sand in small piles around his feet.
Maggie smiled, and to Sam, her smile was like Christmas.
“You left this at my place,” he said softly, “Figured you might want it back.”
Maggie managed to stand, and took the cup from Sam with nervous, shaking hands.
“I’m going to drop it again,” she laughed, terrified.
Several of the glass fragments were missing, having shattered to dust when she dropped the cup or lost when Sam tried to collect all the scattered pieces. The cup looked like a picture drawn from poor memory. This was a coffee cup, but not quite a cup.
To Maggie, the cup was an exquisite work of art.
She gingerly placed the cup on the table as if it had been fired from fine porcelain china and would crack at even the slightest disruption.
The she stood straight, smoothing the wrinkles in her dress, clinging precariously to that last finger hold of her life before now, still not certain he was real.
“You came,” she said.
And she let go.
Maggie threw herself into his arms.
“You came.”
The tears that flowed had waited eleven years to cry.
“My God, it’s you. It’s really you.”
Sam took her and held her tight, the guilt, loneliness, the bitterness and the gnawing fear he’d never see her again, washing away like footprints at high tide. He squeezed her tightly and buried his face in her neck, engulfing her scent again, a scent that had lived for so long in the recesses of his memory.
He kissed her hair, her neck, her ears, his lips searching for her face, seeking out her lips, kissing her again as if for both the first, and the last time.
She kissed him back wherever he touched her, until they found each other again, finally, and this time, determined that nothing or no one will ever make them part.
“I’ve died and gone to heaven,” he managed to say, and kissed her again and again.
He held her tightly as if this were indeed a cruel joke perpetrated by the Fates and whispered those words he had waited so long to say.
“I love you, Maggie. I love you so much.”
“I missed you,” she whispered back, holding on just as tightly. “My life was nothing without you.”
Sam laughed, and cried, and didn’t care. They were together now.
Finally.
At last.
As it should be.
He pulled away, just far enough to look into her eyes, and he smiled. Those eyes, that made his heart clutch whenever he saw them sparkle.
The soft candlelight danced in them, twin light-pearls that looked up at him with a love that had endured too much time apart.
She was indeed the most beautiful sight his eyes had ever beheld.
And God be damned no one will ever take her from him again.
He kissed her nose, and saw her smile again, the same smile that melted his heart once, and which he gave to her to keep beyond a thousand lifetimes. He was thankful there was time left in this one for the two of them to share.
“What are you doing here?” she finally managed to ask.
Sam shrugged a chuckle, sliding his hands to the base of her back and clasping them there.
“Besides the sugar? David came to see me.”
“David?” Maggie gasped. “He’s supposed to be spending the week with his father.”
“Well,” Sam said. “I guess he’s grounded.”
“He drove all the way to Atlanta?”
“Well, yeah, and then another four hours to Tybee.”
Her eyes widened even more, “To Tybee Island? Sam, he shouldn’t have driven that
far. He’s just . . .”
“One hell of a fine young man, Maggie,” Sam finished for her, “A young man who loves his mother very much.”
“He found you.”
Sam nodded, “He found me, and asked me some very pointed questions, demanding some very pointed answers.”
“Sam,” Maggie said. “I’m so sorry.”
“For what? He wanted to know if I still loved his mother, and I told him yes. I told him I’d never stopped.
Maggie looked down into his chest, that same sad expression clouding over her beautiful smile.
“I chose my family, Sam. I had no choice. I had children.”
“Maggie,” Sam touched his finger to her chin, and tilted her face up to meet his. “It doesn’t matter. You made the right choice. I’d have waited beyond forever for you if I needed to.”
“He moved out. Found him some young thing from work.”
There was bitterness in her voice.
“You didn’t do this for him, Maggie. You did this for your kids.”
“But you Sam, I wanted you to find happiness.”
He laughed and kissed her lightly on the forehead. “I found my happiness, Maggie. I found you.”
“What did you call it your ‘Happily-Ever-After?’”
“Every love story deserves one,” he said.
They kissed again, and he held her tight, afraid to let go.
“Never again,” he whispered to her over and over again.
“So, what did David say to you that would make you come all the way up here?”
Sam smiled, “He told me you were dying.”
“Dying?” Maggie gasped. “Oh, that young man is so grounded when he gets home.”
“I left him the keys to my place,” Sam said. “I told him to have a good time.”
He laughed.
“So, I’m dying?”
“Yeah,” the chuckle continued, “I told him to dial 911 for the heart attack I was about to have.”
He looked into Maggie’s eyes, and she smiled up at him, and Sam fell in love with her all over again, just like he did every time he saw her.
“I’m glad you’re not dying,” he said as he kissed her.
“I’m glad you’re glad,” she replied.
Maggie reached up to the simple silver chain draped around her neck and pulled the pendant from where it rested beneath her shirt, right over her heart, where it had remained all these years.
Sam’s Locked Hearts pendant.
“I never took this off,” she said, “Ever.”
“I’m glad. Nothing else matters now. Everything is right with the world. I’m with you.”
“I never stopped loving you Sam. Not for a single moment. Not ever.”
He couldn’t let her go and didn’t. Sam held her there for the longest time, looking at her, pausing only to kiss her and to tell her he loved her, and missed her, and was so happy he’d found her again.
“It’s like you never left,” he said with a smile. “It’s like this is just the next moment and everything that has happened between then and now just washed away.”
Maggie looked up at him with a smirk, “Another line from one of your books?”
“I don’t think I could ever write anything like this,” he said. “I could die right now and leave this life a happy man.”
“I rather you didn’t, seeing how we just found each other again.”
Sam laughed.
“I’m glad you’re not dying.”
“Me too.”
She kissed his chin, her arms draped around his neck, feeling so natural as if this was where she always belonged, in Sam’s arms.
“So tell me, are you going to love me?
“For the rest of my life,” Sam said, “And then some.”
“Promise?”
“I promise.”
52
Sam and Maggie came home and were married beneath an autumn moon.
They were married on the beach near the water, where their story began.
While the Labor Day weekend sounded the end of summer, on Tybee, summer didn’t loosen its hold until early October, so the evenings were mild, refreshing, with just a hint of autumn nip in the salt sea air.
Maggie wore a light summer dress of cream chiffon chintz with a wreath of baby’s breath and daisies in her hair, and carried a small bouquet of daisies and wildflowers on her arm.
The Locked Hearts pendant Sam had given her that summer so long ago, draped around her neck, and touched that place above her heart, where it has stayed every day since he’d given it to her.
Sam wore a matching shirt with pale yellow chinos.
And still no socks.
It was supposed to be a small, private affair, but Jillian Whitaker deftly leaked just enough to the press to reveal that Sam McKenna finally found his Maggie and the upcoming wedding threatened to be the social event of the year and a circus both at the same time.
“All we need are three rings and a tent,” Sam deadpanned.
The ceremony took place at dusk as the spent summer sun bid the day good-bye.
The full apricot moon smiled his approval as he started his nightly climb up the ladder of the sky, and wondered silently what had taken them so long.
Sam had fired up the smoker earlier in the day and stocked the grill with racks of ribs, chicken, a whole sirloin, pork tenderloin, roasting ears of corn on the cob still in their husks, potatoes, roasting vegetables and red snapper filets. Maggie didn’t want Sam to go to such a fuss with all that food, then remembered, this was something he really loved to do, and with David there helping him, she saw the little boy sparkle in both their eyes again.
Besides, it had been so long since Sam had cooked like this, and of course he lit the bonfire.
Jenny Lynn Sauer flutist with the Tybee Island Community Chamber Quartet played the wedding march as Maggie made her way down the beach on David’s arm. Pastor Thomas with the First Tybee United Methodist Church, who married Jerry Lee his third and fourth times, performed the ceremony.
Maggie’s kids and her grandchildren gathered round her as she recited her vows.
Sam’s kids and grandkids did the same, plus Finch, McGee and Jerry Lee. An empty chair had been placed between Wendy Finch and Jerry Lee’s wife for Tin Can.
Their vows were simple, both deciding that eloquent passages of professed love should be left for the younger crowd.
They loved each other.
They chose instead to celebrate the moment, instead of reflecting on what had passed.
She took Sam’s hands in her own and looked up at him with a smile that melted his heart.
“It has been said that life is not in the destination, but the journey. My journey has brought me here to you. I love you Sam. You stayed. Where others would have given up hope and lost all faith, you stayed. You are my best friend, my soul mate and my partner. You are the love of my life. I am yours as you are mine. I am so glad you want to grow old with me, and I can’t wait to start sharing the rest of my life with you.”
She then slid a simple ring onto his finger, an entwining of silver, Celtic in design, much like Maggie’s pendant.
It was Sam’s turn now.
He gave her a sly wink, and her hands a slight squeeze. The steady rush of the ocean’s surf accompanied him as he spoke softly, just to her.
“I love you Maggie. You are my dream. You are the dream that sustained me when all else failed. You were the light at the end of my tunnel. You gave me hope when there was none. You restored the faith I thought was lost. You brought the sunshine back into my life, and I can think of nothing I’d rather do than spend the rest of mine with you. I will love you beyond a thousand lifetimes, and I will be forever at your side, through this life, and beyond.”
He slipped an identical ring onto Maggie’s finger set with a sapphire stone to symbolize the night’s first star.
They promised to love, honor and cherish each other, “In sickness and in health, until death do you
part.”
Reverend Thomas took their hands in his, and as the night’s first star sparkled sapphire just above the full smiling moon, he pronounced them husband and wife.
“You may kiss your bride.”
Maggie brought a hand to Sam’s cheek, and Sam his own to Maggie’s, and they kissed.
Sam whispered in her ear. “This is where I’ve always belonged.”
Maggie whispered back, “We fit. This feels right.”
“I’m glad,” Sam said and brought Maggie’s hands to his lips. He kissed them.
“I’m glad you’re glad,” Maggie replied with a smile.
53
The reception lasted well into the night.
Sam cooked.
They came from all parts of the island when they saw the bonfire burning.
They came because they heard and wanted to see how a real life happy ending played out.
Sam noticed David sitting off alone in one of the Adirondack chairs, legs draped over the armrests, staring into the black onyx nothingness that was the Atlantic Ocean at night.
Maggie and the girls, Anna Beth, Taylor, and Joe’s three girls, talked on the front porch. Robbie and his family said goodnight a little while back and went to bed. Joe and his wife sat around the fire, fighting the nod of sleep.
Sam made his way around picnic tables, smokers, arranged chairs, and the occasional shake of the hand in congratulations as guests started heading for home and stopped in front of David’s chair.
“He Man,” Sam said.
“Woman Hater,” David replied, with a jerk of his head back to the world of the completely lucid.
“Something on your mind?”
David closed his eyes and laid his head back in the chair, a lazy smile creeping across his face.
“Nothing’s on my mind,” he said. “And I don’t think anything will ever be on my mind again.”
“I wanted to thank you,” Sam said, and extended his hand.
David fought the tug of sleep and one too many longnecks, “For what?”
“For getting my ass out of that chair; if you didn’t come, I don’t think I’d have ever gone looking for your mother.”