9 Ways to Fall in Love

by Caroline Clemmons

  She looked across the bar, through layers of swirled smoke, to the handful of customers sitting at tables surrounding the dance floor. Businessmen and good old boys exchanged stories from their day while enjoying the frigid indoor temperature, band members set up their equipment, and a few cowboys played pool off to the far right.

  Two men sat at a table in a shadowed back corner, their heads angled close in deep conversation. It was too dark to see their faces, but they appeared almost angry at times, each taking his turn stabbing the tabletop with an index finger to make his point. Maggie wondered what their story was. Were they discussing a major transaction, ranchers making a deal or enemies settling a score?

  Before her imagination could run any other direction, Harry walked up with a stack of clean towels. He placed them on a shelf behind the bar then stood between her and her curiosity, effectively blocking her view.

  She assured him she was doing fine then filled drink orders for the four customers who walked in and sat at the bar.

  * * *

  Jaw clenched and tense as a bull rider waiting for the gate to spring open, Graeme stared at the drink in his hand as his older brother took verbal swings at his character.

  "Now that you're back, do you have the balls to stay, or are you going to turn tail and disappear again?" With that final sarcastic shot, he finally shut-up.

  Graeme pushed upright in his chair to loosen the kinks from his back and shoulders. Every muscle screamed a protest at being bunched in a knot.

  Elliott's words stung like the slap of Andrew's hand the first time Graeme had openly defied an order. He supposed, in all fairness, his brother had a right to ask the question. Whether one was born a Benning or raised as one, family meant everything. And, while he hadn't had a choice on whether to go or stay, he hadn't been available when the family had needed him.

  While Graeme didn't have an answer yet, he damn sure had a few questions of his own for Dallas County's Assistant District Attorney.

  Graeme took a swig from his longneck as Elliott mirrored his actions. They were, he thought, like two grade school opponents sizing each other up on the playground at recess. Graeme swiped at the condensation on the beer bottle while deciding where to begin.

  "So Wyatt never contacted you, at any time, before the crash? You had no idea he was in trouble?"

  "No. Not a clue." Elliott shifted in his chair, repositioned his beer. His foster brother made it apparent that he was unaccustomed to being questioned. Either that or there was something else he wasn't saying.

  "What?"

  "Nothing . . ." Elliott swiped at a water puddle under the bottle. "It's nothing."

  "Look, if we're going to get to the bottom of this, we have to level with one another. What were you going to say?"

  "You know Wyatt. He was never like the rest of us. He didn't act out, never bucked the system. He always kept things bottled up."

  "Yeah, that goody two-shoes act used to piss me off. We could never wheedle anything out of him." Graeme shook his head and grinned.

  "Well, it was the same thing this time, except…"

  "Elliott," Graeme ground out his brother's name, huffed out a sigh in exasperation. "Stop dragging this out. What?"

  "Maggie came to the office about a month prior to the accident. She asked me for the name of a good divorce attorney."

  That news ripped through Graeme like a shot. After digesting it for a minute, he asked, "Did you give her one?"

  "Yeah, I did."

  Graeme leaned toward the table, rested his forearms against the edge. "Did she go? Did she file?"

  "No." Elliott picked up his bottle, drained its contents then answered sadly, "Whether or not she intended to, I don't know, because the next time I saw her, Wyatt was dead. Soon after the funeral, she moved in with that ditzy friend of hers like she didn't want anything to do with the family."

  "Is that when you decided to charge her with theft of the morphine Wyatt likely overdosed with? When she was alone and vulnerable?"

  Elliott scowled. "D.A. Harrison was relatively new in his job and still trying to impress the good people of Dallas County."

  Snorting in disgust, Graeme ground out, "And he did it at Maggie's expense."

  "Yeah, but not without cause. The drugs disappeared from the hospital's inventory and the investigators narrowed the time down to Maggie's shift."

  "What did she have to say about that?"

  "She denied stealing the drugs, of course."

  "You don't really think she did, do you?"

  "I don't want to, but . . . hell, I don't know," Elliott said with a sigh. "You knew her better when we were growing up. Do you think she's capable?"

  Graeme pushed his chair away from the table. "I think I should talk to Maggie to get her side of the story."

  Elliott leaned back in his own chair, sported a grin, and glanced past him. "Somehow I don't think you'll have to go far."

  Graeme swiveled around to see Maggie standing behind the bar. She talked and laughed with a customer and the man he had met earlier called Harry. She looked great in a hot pink tee shirt with her hair pulled back in a ponytail. While he tried to decide whether to go up to her now or wait until tomorrow, Maggie looked out across the room and made eye contact.

  Elliott tapped Graeme's shoulder and whispered, "See you back at the ranch. I'm outta here." With a low whistle, he left by the back exit.

  Graeme stood, gathered the empty beer bottles and carried them to the bar. The man seated in front of Maggie said something that made her laugh.

  "Thanks, Trevor, I may take you up on your offer." Maggie leaned toward him, squeezed his hand. She nodded to Graeme as she picked up the empties then put them into the trash can.

  "Hey, I didn't see you come in."

  "Been at a back table for a while," he explained briefly. He was more interested in the man with whom Maggie had held hands. So, this is Riordon. Though he couldn't pinpoint anything specific, something about the guy seemed off. Maybe the hand-holding had his gut churning because, where Maggie was concerned, his feelings were increasingly irrational. Something else he probably needed to confront.

  A Shiner Boch slid its way over, halting at Graeme's fingertips. He picked up the long neck, tipped the rim toward his benefactor in thanks and took a swig of ice cold beer.

  "I saw the empties you set on the bar and thought you'd like another. In retrospect, I suppose I should've asked if they were yours." Riordon smiled affably then drank from his green-bottle Dos Equis, then extended his hand in greeting. "I don't believe we've met. I'm Trevor Riordon. "

  Graeme locked hands in the ages-old gesture. "Graeme McAlister."

  Maggie took a couple Lone Stars out of the ice and set them on the bar for the pool players, just as the two men withdrew from the handshake.

  "Sorry, I thought you two knew each other. I should've introduced you." She put Trevor's empty in the trash then put an unopened one back into the ice when he shook his head no to another. "Trevor, Graeme is Wyatt's brother."

  "I heard you were coming for a visit." He stood, pulled his wallet out of his back pocket, placed a few bills in front of Maggie, and slid a business card in front of Graeme. Replacing the wallet, he said, "If you have time while you’re here, stop by the airport and take a tour of the offices. I'll be happy to show you some of the changes we've made."

  "Sure." Graeme nodded, glanced at the card then placed it into his shirt pocket. He'd wondered how he was going to address Bridey's concerns for Andrew's former business and not appear nosy and here the opportunity landed in his hand.

  "You two looked pretty chummy," Graeme said after the door closed behind Trevor. "What was that about?"

  "You're kidding, right? He offered to help me empty boxes and put things away." Maggie's pointed look said he'd crossed a line. "Not that I owe you any explanations."

  "You're right. I'm sorry."

  "For the record, Trevor is and has always been a good friend. He was here when I needed someone." She
turned away from him making a fuss at the sink, draining the dirty water and filling it with fresh water to wash the glassware.

  Graeme didn't shrink from Maggie's assault. He took the accusation for the direct hit she meant it to be. He had a lot to make amends for and, while he couldn't change the past, he was here now. It wouldn't be easy, but he planned to make up for his shortcomings sooner than later.

  "Hi there, good lookin'."

  Maggie's friend, Dinah, sat on the stool beside him, effectively catching him off guard and throwing his last thoughts out with that dirty wash water.

  "Hi yourself."

  "Hey, if you're hungry, the diner's about to close."

  "No, but thanks for the update," he answered, smiling at her friendliness.

  "Mags, how much longer do you think you'll be?"

  Maggie set the last glass upside down on the bar towel, dried her hands on the apron at her waist and came over to speak to Dinah.

  "At least until midnight when the bartender said he could be here. Why? Are you going to turn into a pumpkin?"

  "Of course not, silly, that was Cinderella's coach," Dinah explained with exaggerated patience. "I lose 'princess status'. Geez, either Nancy should've read you more fairy tales or Andy should've been a girl."

  "Cute." Maggie looked at the wall clock behind the bar and appealed to Dinah, "Can't you stay for another hour? I don't want to leave Harry in the lurch."

  "No, kiddo, I have to be up and going at five am."

  Graeme spoke up, "I'm heading your way, Maggie. I'll take you home."

  "Great," Dinah said as she popped up off the stool. "That's perfect." She hugged Maggie quickly and waved as she left through the diner.

  * * *

  Maggie walked up the steps and onto the darkened porch. She was certain she had left that light on plus one in the living room, but that was off, too. She unlocked the front door then waved goodbye to Graeme before she went inside. She watched through the window until the Suburban's tail lights disappeared, thanking the saints that Graeme hadn't suggested they talk for a while. She was so exhausted her tired hurt.

  Reaching behind her, she flipped the switch for the porch light and the center ceiling fan light. An immediate snap, sizzle, pop sounded behind the wall plate and a whiff of acrid smoke stung the air. She flipped the switch a couple more times, but nothing happened. She felt her way along the back of the couch to the wall and the nearest floor lamp. Nothing happened there either when she rolled the twirly switch between her fingers. Realizing the main breaker must've popped, she kept feeling her way toward the utility room located at the back of the house off the kitchen.

  Suddenly, the sound of glass breaking in a back bedroom stopped Maggie cold. Fear's tentacles squeezed her heart so tightly, she thought it might stop beating or explode before she scrambled her way back to the front door. As she snagged her purse on the way out, the mini-blinds rattled with the stiff breeze blowing through the open window. She ran down the steps toward the truck parked in the drive, digging frantically for her keys.

  Once beside the driver's side door, Maggie shoved the key at the lock dropping them a couple times before finally achieving her goal. Inside the cab, she turned the key in the ignition, but the engine refused to turn over. Frantic, she tried again, with the same result. Giving up, she decided to call for help, then saw that her purse had fallen onto the passenger side floor-board.

  Once she found her phone, her hands shook so violently, her fingers touched every number on the screen except the ones she wanted. Resting the phone on the steering wheel between both hands, she closed her eyes, fighting every cell in her body that urged her to run.

  After a few seconds, a measure of calm prevailed and Maggie opened her eyes. A tall, broad-shouldered form stood in shadow at the truck's front bumper. She realized, too late, that both doors were unlocked. She pushed the lock down on the driver side, the phone fell from her grip and as she dove for the passenger door lock, gravel crunched under booted feet and a tap sounded against the window.

  Chapter 5

  "Get out of the truck."

  Met with no response, Graeme repeated the demand, "I said, get out of the truck. Come out slow." He tapped the window with the barrel of his Sig M11in punctuation. "Keep your hands where I can see 'em."

  In the darkened interior, he couldn't make an ID, but the narrow shoulder width said the person was probably a kid wanting to go for a ride. Well, he picked the right ranch to steal from. Down the road, old man Harper shot first then asked how you liked your coffee.

  Slowly, the driver's side door opened and Graeme realized the kid was female with hair just like… "Maggie?" He whispered her name as he shined the flashlight into the cab.

  "Graeme?" Maggie squinted into the bright light. "Thank, God, it's you."

  The flashlight's bright beam washed out the color in her face causing her eyes to resemble the clear green of the cat's eye marbles he'd kept in a white cotton handkerchief as a boy.

  "Are you all right?" He placed the pistol inside the back waistband of his jeans, then pulled her into his arms. He held her to still her trembling, to find out if she was hurt or just scared.

  "Why are you here? I watched you drive away."

  "We'll get to that," he promised. "Right now, tell me why you're outside. Was someone in the house?"

  "Yes, maybe, I don't know. I--I'm not sure," Maggie stammered.

  "It's okay," Graeme reassured her. "What happened?"

  She leaned closer to him and circled her arms at his waist setting every nerve ending on full alert.

  "When Dinah and I left earlier, I meant to leave a light on so I wouldn't trip over stuff in the dark. I figured I'd forgotten because the whole house was pitch black. As I flipped the switch for the porch and living room light, there was a spark and a snap then nothing." She shuddered and moved even closer, nuzzling her face into his chest.

  Graeme tightened his hold, rested his chin atop her head. "Then what?" he encouraged.

  "I tried to turn on other lights, but nothing worked. When the dining room light didn't come on, I realized a breaker must have popped. Before I could get to the breaker box, I heard a loud crash in the back of the house."

  "And that's when you ran to the truck?"

  "Yes and the blasted thing wouldn't start and then there you were pointing a gun at me." She smiled at him and eased from his embrace to sit on the truck seat. "You scared the you-know-what out me, by the way."

  He missed her nearness far more than he should have.

  "Why didn't you call 911 as soon as you were outside on the porch? Where were you going?"

  "I didn't think, I just wanted to be gone."

  "Well, you were smart to get out of the house." She appeared calm enough for him to leave her alone, so he said, "Stay here, while I go check out the house."

  Standing abruptly, she bumped against him. "No, I'm going with you."

  "No, you aren't." Graeme held up his hand to stay her protest. "Whoever was inside is probably long gone, but I'm not taking any chances. If you want to help, call 911."

  She looked ready to argue, but said, "All right, but be careful."

  Graeme waited until Maggie was safely inside the cab with the doors locked before he retrieved the Sig. He walked along the side of the truck to the tailgate, paused to look for any movement near the house. Seeing none, he proceeded to the porch and slipped in through the front door.

  Within a few minutes after she made the emergency call, Maggie saw flashing blue and white lights coming toward her. She stepped out of the cab as the sheriff's SUV slowed to a stop in front of the truck. Flashlight in his left hand and gun on his hip, Ben Hammond set his Stetson atop his head. The serious set of his jaw contrasted the smile he'd worn just a few hours ago in the diner. His features intensified with concern when he saw her.

  "Maggie, dispatch said you had a break-in. Are you all right?"

  "Yes, Ben, I'm fine. Graeme's inside now checking things out."

 
As if on cue, several lights popped on in the house. After a couple minutes, Graeme exited the front door, removed the unlit bulb from the porch light, and then motioned for Maggie and Ben to join him.

  Ben extended his hand toward Graeme in greeting. "Find anything?"

  "Hard for me to tell with boxes stacked everywhere, but I did see broken glass on a desk in the back bedroom. Maggie would come closer to knowing if anything else has been disturbed." He held up the incandescent bulb he'd removed from the socket and shook it close to his ear. "This one's busted and could've popped the breaker or the old wiring might've caused a power-surge at the switch. Maggie, you'll need to get an electrician out here Monday to check the wiring in the house."

  "Yeah, sure," Maggie said absently, as huge dollar signs danced just out of her reach. She blinked to erase the vision. "Graeme, you never said why you came back to the house."

  Graeme hesitated, then explained, "I waited until you went inside then, as I drove toward the road, I thought I saw someone run from behind the corner of the house to the west fence. I parked down by the gate and walked back."

  "Oh." Maggie rubbed her hands up and down her arms, more upset than ever that someone had been there in the darkness when she stepped into the house. Thankfully, Graeme had returned.

  "As far as I can see, though, windows and doors are all locked across the back of the house," Graeme added.

  "Maggie, I'll go take a look around," Ben told her. "Do you want to look tonight or would you rather come back in the morning?" Ben stopped on the threshold of the front doorway, waiting for her decision.

  "I'd rather not put it off. Let's get it over with."

  A short time later, she entered the bedroom that would become her office. She immediately saw the recently purchased antique vase, its delicate etched glass laying in pieces on the desk top. Now, it would join her favorite lamp in the trash can. Warily, she pulled the closet door toward her to peer inside when out of nowhere a form shot past her with an 'Eeeyooowwwww!'

  She squealed and ran to the hall. Graeme and Ben ran toward her with their guns drawn. Maggie couldn't help herself, she laughed out loud at the sight while holding her hand over her heart.