by Neesa Hart
“Are you going to wake him up?”
“I can’t just leave him. I have to say good-bye.”
“Are you sure that’s best?”
Mark nodded. “He wouldn’t understand if I just disappeared.”
“What are you going to say?”
“I don’t know.” Mark kept staring at Ryan.
“Are you sure you want to go through with this? We could just leave.”
Mark shook his head. “I’ve been a coward about this all along. If I hadn’t been, I would have done this a long time ago. I owe him this.”
“All right.” She continued to rock.
Mark sat down on the side of the bed. “Ryan,” he said. “Ryan, wake up.”
Ryan moaned in his sleep.
“Come on, buddy, wake up.”
Ryan’s eyes drifted open. “Is Santa here?”
Mark smiled. “No. It’s not Santa. It’s me.”
“Dad?”
“Uh-huh.”
“Is it morning?”
“No, it’s not morning.”
“I’m tired.”
“I know you are, son. I just have something I want to tell you.”
Ryan rubbed his fists in his eyes. “What?”
“I love you, Ryan.”
He yawned. “I love you, too, Dad.”
Mark swallowed. “Do you remember how I told you one time that I wasn’t sure I’d be here forever?”
“Yeah.”
“It’s time for me to go, Ryan.”
Ryan frowned. “Go where?”
“Away.”
Ryan sat up in bed. “You’re leaving?”
“I’m leaving.”
“For how long?”
“Forever.”
“No!” Ryan looked at Annie. “Tell him he can’t.” He looked back at Mark. “You can’t leave me. Why are you leaving?”
“Ryan, listen to me. Don’t you want to have a real dad? Someone who can hold you, and play with you, and comfort you?”
“No.” He was sobbing now.
Mark felt like his heart had been ripped out. “I think you do, son. I think you need a real father, and not just one you imagined.”
“Don’t you love me anymore?”
Mark clenched his eyes shut. “I’ll never stop loving you, Ryan. Not ever.” He felt tears start to stream down his face.
“Stay with me,” Ryan started to sob. “Don’t leave me alone, Dad.”
Mark stood up. He reached for Annie’s hand. “I have to, Ryan. I love you. That’s why I have to say good-bye.”
“I’m scared,” Ryan said.
“Don’t be scared. Nothing is going to hurt you. Mom’s going to look after you.”
“Don’t leave me.” Ryan’s voice sounded hoarse.
Mark felt the force of the broken plea like a knife thrust through his heart. Annie’s fingers tightened on his. He looked at her. He saw the tears, real tears, spilling from her eyes. “You’re crying?” he said. He wiped her cheeks with his hand. “I thought you couldn’t cry real tears.”
Annie leaned against his shoulder. “I guess it took both of us to make it happen.”
And together, they disappeared into the night.
Scott was leaning back on the couch, staring at the fire, when he heard Ryan’s sob. He plunked his coffee cup down on the table. “It’s Ryan,” he told Maggie.
She tipped her head. “Are you sure?”
The muffled noise sounded again. Scott shot off the couch and headed for the stairs. “I’m sure.”
He took the stairs two at a time. He shoved open the door to Ryan’s room. “Ryan? Are you all right?”
Ryan was sitting in the middle of his bed, clutching his pillow. “He’s gone,” he said, his voice muffled by the pillow. “He’s gone.”
Scott crossed the room. He sat down on the bed, then lifted Ryan onto his lap. “Shh. It’s a dream, Ryan.”
Ryan shook his head. “Daddy left. He isn’t coming back.” He leaned against Scott’s chest. His little body shook with heartbroken sobs.
Scott felt his chest constrict. “Ryan, it’s OK. Nothing’s going to happen.”
“Why did he leave?”
Scott rocked him back and forth. “How do you know he’s gone?” he asked.
Ryan hiccuped. “He told me he was leaving. He said he wasn’t coming back.”
“Did he say why?
“Because he wants me to have a real dad.”
Maggie appeared in the doorway. Scott cautioned her with a brief shake of his head. “You know, Ryan,” he said, “did I ever tell you about the day Annie died?”
“No,” Ryan said, still crying.
“I didn’t want her to die. I knew I’d miss her a lot, but there wasn’t anything I could do about it.” He rubbed his hand down Ryan’s back. “For a while I tried to pretend she was still alive.”
Ryan tipped his head back to look at Scott. His face was streaked with tears. “Really?”
Scott nodded. “Really. But one day, I just had to admit to myself that she was gone.”
“Were you sad when you said good-bye to Annie?”
“Uh-huh.”
“Did you cry?”
“I cried for a long time. I think sometimes, it takes a very long time before sadness goes away.” He met Maggie’s tearful gaze across the room. “Sometimes, it doesn’t ever completely go away.”
“I miss Dad.”
“I know you do.”
Ryan was quiet for a long time. His tears were hot through the fabric of Scott’s shirt. “Scott?” he asked.
“Yes?”
“I’m scared. Don’t leave me alone.”
Scott stretched out on the bed, still holding Ryan. “I’m not going anywhere.”
“Don’t leave me.” His voice was a muffled sob against Scott’s shirt.
Scott hugged him closer. “I won’t. I’m not going to leave you. I promise.”
Twenty-one
Maggie looked out the window at the fresh Christmas snow that had fallen during the night. Scott was still asleep in Ryan’s room.
After Scott had stretched out on the bed with Ryan, Maggie had fled to her own room, where she’d spent the better part of the night searching her heart. The image of Scott, rocking Ryan against his chest, of him comforting her son, had been enough to make her own tears start to flow. Sometime, just before dawn, she’d finally fallen into a fitful sleep. She’d dreamed of Max Wedgins.
In her dream, he’d been standing alone on the site of the Cape Hope Resort, laughing, laughing like he knew something the rest of them didn’t. She awakened feeling fitful, and on edge.
She was jerked from her reverie when the door flew open, and Ryan came racing into her room. He wrapped his arms around her legs. “It’s Christmas,” he said.
“Sure is,” she said, ruffling his hair. “I imagine you’ve been downstairs already?”
“Yeah. Santa left me a bike. It’s really cool. It’s just like Franklin’s.”
“Where’s Scott?”
“Sleepin’.”
Maggie nodded. “Well, what do you say you and I go make some breakfast, then we’ll wake him up.”
“Can’t we open presents before we eat?”
“Ryan,” she said, smiling, “you ask me that every year. You know we’re not going to open presents until after breakfast.”
“Can I eat the chocolate out of my stocking?”
Maggie had long ago decided that Christmas was as good an excuse as any for breaking a few household rules. “Yes,” she said. “You may eat the chocolate out of your stocking.”
Ryan shot out of the room. Maggie changed from her bathrobe to jeans and a green sweater. She stopped by Ryan’s room to look in on Scott. He was, indeed, sprawled across the bed. She shook her head and pulled the door shut.
Downstairs, Ryan chattered while she made French toast. “Mom,” he said, “can I call Franklin and ask what Santa left him?”
She glanced at the clock. She could just
imagine Lily’s reaction if Ryan called her house at 7:00 A.M. “You have to wait until eight-thirty.”
“But, Mom, I’m sure he’s up.”
“Who’s up?” Scott asked, walking into the kitchen.
Maggie smiled at him. “Good morning.”
“Franklin,” Ryan said. “I want to call Franklin and tell him about my bike.”
Scott sat down on one of the kitchen stools. “I think your mom is right. You’d better wait until eight-thirty.”
Ryan frowned. “OK, I guess.” He looked at Scott. “Will you come help me build something with my new Legos?”
Scott grinned at Maggie. “This, I can handle. I happen to be an expert at Legos.”
“I’m scared,” she said.
Scott wriggled his fingers like a mad scientist. “Are you kidding? We’ll have a replica of the Eiffel Tower in no time.”
“I’ll go dump ’em out,” Ryan said. He dashed from the kitchen into the living room.
“How’s he doing?” Scott asked Maggie.
“Recovered,” she said. She dropped four pieces of bread into the French toast batter. “How are you?”
“Nothing more than a crick in my neck from sleeping in that short bed. He kicks a lot.”
“Scott, I—” She paused in the process of flipping toast. “I don’t know how to thank you for what you did last night.”
He rounded the counter in two quick strides. He grasped Maggie’s shoulders. “You don’t have to thank me, Maggie. I was here. He needed to know someone understood what he was going through. I was glad I could be that person.”
She went up on her tiptoes to kiss him. “You’re a good man, Scott Bishop.”
He put his arms around her and held her close. “Good enough for you?” he asked. He kissed her then, a long, lingering, morning-kind of kiss full of promise, and far too short.
“Scott,” Ryan called from the living room, “are you coming?”
Scott lifted his head. “Duty calls,” he said.
Maggie laughed. “Get used to it.”
When they finally sat down to breakfast, it was a boisterous affair, with Ryan trying to eat as fast as he could and Maggie trying to slow him down. Scott studied Maggie from across the table with a look she found all too disconcerting.
Ryan was fidgeting so much, she was afraid he’d tip his chair over, so she finally decreed breakfast was finished. Ryan was back in the living room in a matter of seconds. Scott reached for Maggie’s hand. “Maggie, I want to ask you something.”
“Hurry up,” Ryan called from the other room.
“Not now, Scott.”
“Yes, now.”
“But Ryan—”
“It won’t take long, Maggie. You know what I want.”
“Scott, I can’t—”
“I want to marry you.”
Maggie took a deep breath. There it was. She’d been dreading it. “Do you want an answer right now?”
“Yes would have been nice, but I guess that’s better than a flat-out no.”
“I’m just not ready for—”
“Mom,” Ryan called. “Come on.”
Scott held Maggie’s gaze. “I want to know by the end of the day, Maggie.”
“But what about Cape Hope?”
“Cape Hope’s got nothing to do with whether or not you’re going to marry me. You’re just using that as an excuse.”
She shook her head. “I’m not.”
Ryan crashed through the door. “Are you guys coming?”
Scott pushed his chair back. “By the end of the day, Maggie,” he said, then followed Ryan back into the living room.
Maggie was on edge the rest of the morning. Ryan tore into his packages with typical seven-year-old zeal. When he got to the cowboy hat Scott had brought him from Dallas, he nearly went beserk. “Oh, cool! It’s a real one, Mom. Look”—he pointed to the feather on the hat band—“it has a feather and everything.”
Scott plunked the hat down on Ryan’s head. “You look just like a genuine cowboy, sport. The real thing.”
“This is so cool. I’ll bet Franklin doesn’t have anything like this.”
Maggie fidgeted. Scott draped his arm across the back of the sofa. “I have something from Dallas for you, too,” he whispered in her ear, “but I figured I’d give it to you in private.”
Ryan set the hat box aside and reached under the tree for another present. He pulled out a small box wrapped in newspaper. Maggie frowned. She didn’t recognize it. “What’s that?”
Ryan stared down at the box. “It’s for Scott.”
Scott sat up on the couch. “For me?”
Ryan nodded. “Yeah. I’m sorry it’s not wrapped better.”
Scott shook his head. “There’s nothing wrong with the way it’s wrapped.”
“Ryan,” Maggie said, “I didn’t know you’d bought a present for Scott.”
“I didn’t.”
“Then what is it?”
“Maggie.” Scott gave her a censorious look. “Don’t I get to open it first?”
Ryan thrust the package into his hand. “Here. I hope you don’t think it’s dumb.”
Scott peeled back the newspaper to reveal a shiny red box. He looked first at Maggie, then at Ryan, then back at the box. He lifted the lid to reveal a green pocketknife. Ryan scrambled over on his knees to point at the knife. “It has six blades,” he told Scott. “Even scissors.”
“Ryan,” Maggie said, “where did you get that?”
Ryan stroked the green enamel casing of the knife. “I bought it last year for Dad,” he said quietly. “I”— he looked at Scott—“I just thought you might want it.”
Scott closed his eyes. Maggie could see the pulse working at the base of his throat. When he opened his eyes again, they were shiny. “It’s a great knife, Ryan. I’ve never had a better knife.”
Ryan’s face brightened. “Really?”
“Really.” Scott tipped the box to drop the knife into his palm. He opened each blade with the proper amount of reverence, and allowed Ryan to explain all the possible uses to him.
Maggie felt the tears sliding down her cheeks as she watched them. It looked so right. It just looked so right. Somehow, all the fears, all the worries, started to dissolve. It didn’t matter anymore that the Cape Hope project was unresolved. It didn’t matter whether they lived in Dallas or Massachusetts or Timbuktu. It didn’t matter that she wasn’t sure she could make a go of By Design.
What mattered was that Scott Bishop believed in her. He believed in them.
She glanced at Mark’s picture on the mantel. In that instant, she knew. She knew she’d never lose herself to Scott Bishop the way she’d been lost with Mark. No, she’d loved Mark the way a child loves a child. It had been complete and unconditional. No sacrifice had been a burden. No obstacle had seemed insurmountable. But with Scott, it was a deeper, firmer, more consuming kind of love. The kind that only two people whose hearts have been broken can find when they help heal each other.
She slipped from the couch to walk to the window. The snow was still falling. She heard it whispering its quiet cadence against the windows. Maggie leaned down and reached for the plug to the Christmas tree lights. Suddenly, she was aware that Scott was watching her.
“Maggie?” he asked. His gaze was intense as he searched her face.
She stared at the plug. Her fingers started to tremble. There was an eerie tension in the room, like time had stopped. The clock on the mantel ticked. The sound of the snow seemed to roar in her ears. And that was when she heard it.
The wind began to whistle under the eaves of the house, and it was as if she heard Mark’s voice telling her to let go.
“Maggie?” Scott said again.
She looked at him. Mark’s voice prompted her. She looked at the plug. Such a simple thing to carry such a dramatic meaning.
“Mom,” Ryan said, walking over to wrap his arms around her legs. “I think Dad wants you to.”
Maggie looked down at his blond
head. “When did you get so smart?” she asked.
He tipped his face back to look at her with a toothless grin. “When you weren’t lookin’.”
Maggie felt her eyes brim with tears. She looked at Mark’s picture on the mantel once again. It was out of focus. It must be the tears, she thought.
“Go ahead, Mom,” Ryan said.
Maggie leaned down and plugged in the tree. The white lights flared to life. Scott crossed the room to pull her into his arms. A brisk wind started to rattle the windowpanes.
“Does this mean what I think it means?” Scott asked.
Maggie wiped the tears from her face. “If you still want us.”
“What are you talking about?” Ryan asked.
Scott sat on the couch and pulled Maggie onto his lap. He patted the seat next to him. “Sit down, Ryan. I gotta ask you something.”
Ryan climbed onto the couch. “Yeah?”
“How would it be if I married your mom?”
Ryan seemed to consider it. “Would we have to move again?”
“I don’t know,” Scott said. “It depends on whether or not Max Wedgins likes my drawing for the Cape Hope project.”
“If he does, do we stay here?”
“Yes.”
“But if he doesn’t, we’d have to move?”
“Probably.”
Ryan looked at Maggie. “Do you want to move to Dallas?”
“I want us to be a family, Ryan.”
Ryan shrugged. “I guess it’s okay.”
Maggie tucked her head against Scott’s shoulder with a small laugh. “Well, there you go. We both accept.”
Scott hugged her close. “A man couldn’t ask for anything more than that. We’ll work it out, Maggie. No matter what Wedgins decides, we’ll work it out.”
Maggie decided it was time to tell him about her meeting with Max when the doorbell rang. She frowned. “Who on earth?”
“I’ll get it,” Ryan said. He bolted off the couch.
Scott took the opportunity to topple Maggie back on the sofa for a kiss. “God, I love you,” he said, and slanted his mouth over hers.
She pushed at his shoulders. “Scott—”
He stopped her protest by sweeping his tongue into her mouth.
“Ahem. I see I’m obviously interrupting something.” The voice sounded from the doorway.
“Oh, they do that all the time,” Ryan said. “It’s OK. They’re going to get married. I said they could.”