Halfway to Paradise

by Neesa Hart

  Twelve

  Maggie turned into the airport parking lot. She pulled into a space, then killed the ignition on the Bronco. “Well, here ya go.”

  Scott studied her. “You really didn’t have to bring me all the way to the airport.”

  “I wanted to.”

  He tipped her chin up with his thumb. “What’s the matter, Maggie?” She’d been out of sorts since they’d left Carl Fortwell’s office that morning.

  “Nothing. Just tired.” Her smile was sheepish. “I guess I didn’t get much sleep last night.”

  Scott shook his head. “That’s not it. Something is wrong. I knew it when we left Carl’s office. You just haven’t been yourself.”

  Maggie hesitated before meeting his gaze. “What are we going to do?”

  “About what?”

  “About us.”

  “Oh. Us.”

  Maggie nodded. “Scott, I—”

  He pressed his fingers against her mouth. “Maggie, listen to me. I never pretended to have the answers for everything. I’m not even sure I know what all the questions are. I just know that there’s something about being with you that feels so right, so complete, that I just can’t believe it isn’t.”

  “I feel like I’m shredded up inside.”

  Scott pulled his gloves off so he could cradle her face in his hands. She looked sad, and vulnerable, and lovely, and he wanted to touch her more than he wanted to keep breathing. “I know this is hard for you. Hell, the tuning couldn’t be worse. Do you think I don’t know what you’re feeling right now? All I can think about is that one year ago today I was sitting at Annie’s bedside waiting for her to die.”

  “Scott—”

  “No. Listen to me. I know you didn’t go through that. I know things were different for you. You weren’t prepared, but damn, Maggie, it’s time for you to say good-bye.”

  She enfolded his hands in hers and slowly lowered them from her face. “I’m sorry. Sometimes I forget that I’m not the only person in the world who has suffered through this.”

  Scott checked his watch. His flight was scheduled to leave in just under half an hour, but Maggie needed him more than he needed to be on that plane. “Who told you Mark had died?” he asked.

  She looked at him in surprise. “What?”

  “How did you find out?”

  “His commanding officer called me. It’s standard procedure.”

  “They didn’t send someone by?”

  “They did later. Colonel Drake wanted to tell me himself. He called from the base in Saudi Arabia.”

  “How long were you alone before someone came to be with you?”

  “Not long. The colonel had already called the base to make sure an aide was on the way over.”

  “Was it someone you knew?”

  She shook her head. “Not personally, no.”

  “So you got a phone call in the middle of the day—”

  “Night,” she said. “It was the middle of the night. Around two in the morning.”

  He had a sudden vision of Maggie sitting up in her bed, clutching the phone to her ear, weeping. “Oh, Maggie.”

  “Lieutenant Cross arrived about ten minutes after I got off the phone with the colonel.”

  “Did you know him?”

  “Lieutenant Marla Cross. I knew of her. Everyone knew of her. She was the official Marine Corps comforter. You lived in fear of a visit from Marla Cross.”

  “And you didn’t have any close friends, no family you could turn to?”

  She looked away. “My parents died in a car accident when I was fourteen. Mark’s mother abandoned him when he was five, and he grew up in a series of foster homes. Neither of us had close family, and as for friends, well, Mark’s career moved us around a lot. We moved almost once a year, sometimes twice. After a while, it became too painful to make friends and leave them. I knew people, of course, but there was no one I was really close to.”

  Scott remembered the outpouring of support he’d had from his parents, his two brothers, his sister, and their families. He wasn’t sure he could have survived the last three months of Annie’s life without them. The thought of Maggie enduring the grief of Mark’s death on her own made his heart break. “Maggie, I’m so sorry.”

  She didn’t seem to hear him. She stared at the runway, watching as the planes taxied to the gates. “I didn’t tell Ryan until the next morning. I couldn’t.”

  Scott touched her shoulder. “You don’t have to do this.” God, the pain in her voice was a tangible thing to him. He could feel it vibrating through his bloodstream.

  “In a way, I was almost glad that Ryan thought he could see Mark. It kept him from grieving the way I did.”

  “Maggie—”

  “You know what the worst part was?”

  He didn’t want to know. If it got any worse, he was going to start weeping like a baby. He knew, could feel, the hurt in her. His own memories of that kind of pain were too fresh. He kept them carefully guarded in a locked room where they only occasionally escaped to haunt him.

  Even in the brief time he’d been with Maggie, he’d recognized the threat she posed. With Maggie, the pain was always just beneath the surface, waiting to consume him, surging against the boundaries of its cell. And Maggie’s quiet words were pounding furiously on the door.

  The lines around her mourn, the slight stoop of her shoulders, won out over his urge to flee the car. He couldn’t leave her alone to face her demons. Not again. “What was the worst part?” he asked. He wondered if his voice sounded raw to her.

  “The worst part was when I saw his body.”

  “Maggie!” Scott was shocked. “Didn’t you tell me he died in a helicopter crash?”

  “Yes.”

  “Then why—”

  “At first, Colonel Drake told me they weren’t even sure he was dead. They didn’t find his body among the wreckage. I spent four days thinking that by some miracle, he could be alive. Then the colonel called and told me they’d identified his body. He was”—her voice cracked—“he was so charred, they hadn’t known at first.”

  Scott reached across the front seat to unbuckle Maggie’s seat belt. He didn’t wait for her permission to lift her onto his lap. He tucked her head against his shoulder and waited.

  Maggie quivered. “They shipped the casket back on military aircraft. Five Marines died in the helicopter crash, including Mark, and I waited while they unloaded the coffins at the airstrip. I . . . I had to see him. I had to.” She wiped at the tears that were now falling freely down her face. “Ryan was so sure, and I needed to know.”

  She wrapped her arms around his waist. She hugged him so tight, he was afraid he wouldn’t be able to breathe. He rubbed his hand down her spine. “Just let it out, Maggie.”

  “It took me forever to get them to open the coffin for me. They didn’t want to do it.”

  Scott privately thought that they shouldn’t have done it. He knew what was coming, and the thought of it made sweat break out on his forehead. Maggie’s voice broke on a sob. “Finally,” she said, “the base’s commanding general had to intervene. He agreed that I had a right to see the body. They took me into this little room, and one of the base doctors came in to talk to me. He tried to talk me out of it, but I needed to see him. I had to.”

  She tipped her head back and looked at Scott. “You understand that, don’t you?”

  “I know you felt like you needed to at the time.”

  “I still feel that way. I don’t think I could have believed he was dead if I hadn’t seen it.”

  He could feel the tension in her. He remembered the last days of Annie’s life, when he’d sat by her bedside, torn between his need for her to keep on living and his desire to end her pain. For days, he’d prayed for each breath she drew. For days, he’d held her cold fingers and willed his life into her body. For days, he’d refused to sleep for fear that he’d miss her last few words, her last breath.

  It had taken him months to tell anyone what those d
ays had been like, months before he could bear to face the memories. Something told him that Maggie was facing her memories for the first time. “I know, sweetheart,” he whispered. “I know.”

  She rubbed her face against his shirt. “So they opened it.” Her shoulders jerked. “There was nothing, left, Scott. No skin, no features, just . . . just . . .”

  “Maggie, don’t.”

  “And he was still wearing his wedding band,” she said, collapsing against his chest with a broken sob. “And all the time Ryan kept insisting he could talk to Mark, see him, all I could think of was how he looked lying in that coffin.”

  Scott felt his heart break in two. “Oh, Maggie.”

  She ignored him, feeling angry, deceived, cheated. Ryan had seen Mark lurking about in the corners of their home, of their lives, in the year since his death. But Maggie had been forced to suffer alone. “Ryan kept telling me he was there with us, that he said he loved me and he was sorry. But was he there when I had to stand at the base by myself and wait for them to unload his coffin?” The tears were flowing freely now, and Maggie swiped at them. “Was he there when I looked at his remains?”

  “It’s all right, sweetheart.” Scott hugged her closer. “Just tell me all of it.”

  “Where was he?” Her voice was hoarse and raw and she looked at Scott as the angry tears streamed down her face. In some corner of her mind, Maggie knew she wasn’t being rational, but she couldn’t control the surge of anger any more than she could stop the pain. The comfort of Scott’s embrace, now, a year too late, had released a torrent of feeling she’d kept carefully guarded beneath the surface. “Why was he there for Ryan and not for me? Why?”

  “I’m so sorry.”

  Scott’s words drifted through her like a warm tropical breeze, soothing some of her ragged nerves, but her thoughts still lingered in that sterile office where she’d seen Mark’s body. She had been unable to accept that he was really dead, unable to believe he wouldn’t come back, unable to believe there hadn’t been some horrible mistake.

  Marla Cross had argued with her for nearly half an hour before Maggie had threatened to get a court order if necessary. Under strong protest, General Ted Easling had finally agreed to open the casket. Nothing had prepared her for the sight of the charred skeleton. She’d fainted immediately, and told no one afterward. She had been unable to bear the memory.

  But now, she was angry that the hurt had been hers alone to bear. She curled her fingers into a fist and pounded on Scott’s chest. “Why did it have to be this way?”

  “Shhh, Maggie. Just cry it out. All of it.” He reached over and switched on tike ignition. He adjusted the heat to take the chill off the air.

  Maggie wept for twenty minutes. The windows had long since fogged over, and Scott cradled her on his lap, listening to the sounds of the heater fan and Maggie’s muffled sobbing. When she seemed to calm some, he shifted her just enough to slip his hand into his back pocket and produce a handkerchief for her.

  She accepted it with a slight hiccup. “Thank you.”

  Scott waited while she blew her nose. Her eyes were swollen and red, and he brushed her damp hair off her face. “Maggie, I’m so sorry.”

  She shook her head. “I think I needed that. I never told anyone before, not about the body I mean. I just”—her voice cracked on a sob—“I just kept it all inside of me.”

  Scott nodded. He pressed a kiss to her forehead. “I know.”

  She wiped at her eyes with the handkerchief. “I think I made you miss your plane.”

  “I decided to miss my plane. I don’t want you to drive like this.”

  “I’ll be all right,” she said, all the while hoping he wouldn’t leave. She wasn’t ready to be alone again.

  “The next flight out doesn’t leave until five o’clock. I’ll drive you home, and then catch a cab this afternoon.”

  “It’s a whole hour back to Cape Hope.”

  He gave her a tender smile before shifting her onto the passenger seat. It took him a minute to adjust his long frame into the driver’s side. “You’re worth an hour, Maggie. You’re worth at least an hour.”

  She leaned back in her seat with an exhausted sense of relief. She needed his tangible physical presence. “Thank you. I . . . I don’t want to be alone.”

  Scott adjusted the heater to defrost before enfolding one of her hands in his. “You don’t have to.” He raised her gloved hand to his mouth and pressed a kiss on the back. “I’m right here.”

  Maggie’s fingers trembled, and for the first time in nearly a year she felt like the future was not such a frightening thing after all.

  From the corner of his eye, Scott studied Maggie as he turned into her driveway. After she’d guided him through the busy airport traffic and onto the main highway, she’d fallen asleep. He’d been relieved when she’d slept through the three times he’d been forced to stop and ask for directions. A man had his pride, after all. “Maggie.” He touched her shoulder. “Honey, wake up.”

  Maggie’s eyes drifted open. “Hmmm?”

  “We’re home.”

  Maggie blinked. “Home?”

  “Your house. We’re here.”

  She rubbed at her eyes. “Oh. I must have fallen asleep.”

  “Must have.”

  Maggie still looked disoriented. “What time is it?”

  “Just after noon.”

  “Ryan will be home at two-thirty.”

  “Why don’t you go inside and lie down? I’ll wait for Ryan.”

  Maggie yawned. “Thank you.”

  Scott pressed a brief kiss to her forehead before opening his door. He rounded the Bronco to open the door for her. “You look a little groggy.”

  She shook her head. “I feel like my head is stuffed with cotton.”

  “I’m not surprised,” he said. He draped an arm across her shoulders. “That’s a lot of emotional stress for you to carry around on your own.”

  “Did you ever think of going into therapy?”

  Scott laughed. “No. I just remembered everything my shrink told me, and then I turned it on you. You needed to cry, Maggie. You were waiting for it.” He found the key for the front door on her key ring.

  “In the first six weeks after Mark’s death, all I did was cry.”

  “Not that kind of crying,” he said, and swung the door open, “the angry kind.” Scott let her precede him into the foyer. “You had a right to be angry, Maggie. It doesn’t make you a bad person.”

  “It wasn’t Mark’s fault that he died. He wasn’t trying to leave me alone.”

  “I know. It doesn’t keep you from feeling betrayed, though, does it?”

  She shook her head. “No.”

  Scott saw the fresh tears in her eyes. He caught one with his thumb. Maggie rubbed her face against his hand. “It’s okay,” he told her. “Everything is going to be okay.”

  “People used to tell me that all the time right after Mark died, and I never believed them.”

  “Are you believing it now?”

  She hesitated. “I think I am.”

  There was surprise, even awe, in the words. Scott hugged her close. “Why don’t you go upstairs and lie down? Do you want me to bring you some tea, or something?”

  She shook her head. “No. I’m all right.”

  “Sure?”

  “Sure.” She wrapped her arms around his waist and gave him a tight squeeze. “Scott?”

  “Hmmm?”

  “Thank you. I’m always thanking you. For everything. You’re too good to me.”

  “You’re welcome, Maggie.”

  Mark narrowed his eyes as the long navy blue Mercedes Benz limousine glided to a stop in front of Ryan’s elementary school. He put out his hand to Ryan. “Hold on a minute, Ry.”

  Ryan stared at the car. “Wow! Who’s that?”

  “I don’t know.” But he had his suspicions. Mark had convinced Ryan to call Carl Fortwell earlier that day. The call had been cryptic, as Ryan hadn’t known any details, or e
ven the reason for calling his teammate’s grandfather. Using the excuse that he wanted to sell Carl a ticket to the father/son game, Ryan had managed to get past the receptionist.

  Carl had been patient, benevolent, and Mark had helped Ryan deliver a carefully worded message that cast aspersions on Pete Sherban’s objectivity. Ryan had been confused, but Mark felt the message had been adequately delivered.

  By the time school let out that afternoon, Ryan seemed to have forgotten the odd conversation. He was telling Mark about his math quiz when the limousine had pulled into the school parking lot. The busses had already departed, and Ryan had just turned onto the path he used to walk home from school. Mark stopped him when he saw the car. He was almost certain it had something to do with Carl Fortwell. Besides, the limousine had silver flames painted on the side. It would take someone eccentric and rich to ride in a car like that. Someone like Maxwell Wedgins.

  The rear passenger window slid down. A dark-haired stranger, clad all in black, smiled at Ryan. “Are you Ryan Connell?”

  Ryan gave Mark an uncertain look. Mark nodded. “I’m not supposed to talk to strangers,” Ryan told the man.

  “An excellent rule,” he answered. “Your mother probably told you that, and you should listen to her. It simply isn’t safe.”

  Mark tensed. Ryan moved closer to him. “Don’t be scared, Ryan,” Mark said. “I won’t let anything happen to you.”

  A young woman, blonde and curvaceous and so full of sex appeal that Mark wondered if it was legal for her to be walking the streets, slipped out of the driver’s seat and rounded the car. She opened the door for the stranger. He unfolded his six-foot-plus frame from the car, sparing his chauffeur a slight smile. “Thank you, Bobbi. You may wait in the car.”

  She tipped her hat. “Sure, Max.”

  Max looked at Ryan. “Would you like something to drink, young man? I have milk, I have soda, I have juice. I’ve got quite a few other things, but I don’t think you’d find them to your taste.”

  Ryan stared at him. “No?” Max said. “All right, then, that’s all, Bobbi.” The young woman winked at Ryan, then walked back around the car.