by Mary Campisi
* * *
To the residents of Magdalena:
I’m writing in response to Elissa Cerdi’s letter. She was right when she said someone targeted her, tried to bring shame upon her and oust her from the community. That person had no thought for her feelings or her apologies but wanted to see justice done by tossing her out of town. The targeting was cruel and thoughtless, and while the man’s attempts were meant to protect his family and the families of Magdalena, it was poorly done. In fact, it was done with haste and the desire to see the woman punished for the hurt she caused and could have caused others.
The real culprit in this story is a dead woman, one who lives on despite her passing. Some of you know her, some of you know of her, all of you are subject to her devious manipulations. I’m speaking of Gloria Blacksworth.
What is to be done now? Will the town forgive Elissa for her naïve ways that allowed her to trust the wrong person? I hope so. But more importantly, I hope Elissa will forgive the man who caused her heartache and turmoil. That man is me, Rex MacGregor. I’m not proud to admit this, but I’m not going to hide behind it. If Elissa accepts my apology, and I hope she does, I’d like to start over and show her true Magdalena hospitality.
I want to be the first person to welcome her to our community, a place of goodness and caring, where family is about more than blood.
Welcome, Elissa!
Sincerely,
Rex MacGregor
* * *
That earned Rex his wife’s smile, and a hug, too. But along with it came a raised-brow warning to never pull such a mean-spirited shenanigan again.
12
It had been four days since their trip to Boone’s Peak. Four days of “the chill” from Grace, all because he didn’t want to get all touchy-feely about his job and why he had so much time off. What did she expect him to say? The truth? He couldn’t, not without breaking his vow to Frances. No doubt Grace had him committing all sorts of questionable acts to obtain money. What might they be? The woman had an overactive imagination, so why not bank robbery, drug dealing, fraud, maybe even sex for money? Sure, why the hell not, because taking him at his word would involve trust, and they sure didn’t share that.
They’d plowed through the list, added two hours of gin rummy and a trip to the movies to see some comedy that neither of them found funny. Those activities required minimal conversation, and with the freeze she’d put on him and the stingy responses to his questions, he welcomed the less-talking choices.
If Grace wanted to play ticked off and pouting, fine with him, because he was not going to be corralled into spilling information he’d promised not to spill. It’s not like he hadn’t tried to drop hints the morning after the trip to Boone’s Peak. Look, I’m sorry I was short with you…and evasive. Can you just give me a little time? I’m not used to sharing, especially when it comes to finances.
The look she gave him said she didn’t care if he never shared another word with her. That’s fine.
Whenever women used the word fine, it meant the exact opposite. In Max’s experience, it stood for ticked-off and unhappy. But they loved to say that word, as if a guy couldn’t figure out they didn’t mean it the second he looked at their face: the pinched lips, the narrowed gaze, the flaring nostrils. Yup, ticked-off and unhappy. The way Grace looked right now.
They’d just finished painting a second coat of dove gray on the living room walls when Grace turned to him and said, “Did you ever tell me the complete truth about anything?”
Max removed a piece of masking tape from the trim, stared at her. “What are you talking about?”
“You. Us, back then. The truth,” she spat out, eyes narrowed.
Was this fallout from the other night at Boone’s Peak? “I have no idea where you’re going with this…”
“Your parents? You told me they were drinkers, but you didn’t tell me they’d practically abandoned you.” She crossed her arms over her chest, glared. “You should have told me the whole story, not just the part you wanted me to know.”
Obviously, she hadn’t grown up with parents like his. “Why would I spill my guts? So you could feel sorry for me?” Max clenched and unclenched his fists, fought to keep the anger from seeping into his voice. “Treat me like a charity case?” It was no use. Bursts of anger smothered his senses, spewed from his mouth. “Or so you could have avoided me altogether?”
“So I could understand you better,” she shot back.
“Right.” He let out a laugh. “You couldn’t handle the fact that I wasn’t college-bound. How were you going to be okay with finding out my parents didn’t care if I graduated high school or came home at night? Huh? And what about when I told you I used to steal cigarettes and gum from Sal’s Market? Would you have thrown yourself at me then?” He didn’t wait for her to answer, but plowed on. “The first time I saw you standing on your aunt’s front steps in those cut-off jean shorts and halter top, I knew you were way out of my league. It didn’t stop me from wanting you, and when you looked at me, I saw the interest, and for once in my life, I told myself I deserved better than the broken-down life I’d been born into.” Max held her gaze, let the rest of the truth fall out. “And that was the biggest mistake I ever made.”
There. Let her think on that.
She stared at him as if she couldn’t absorb his words or their meaning. When she spoke, the anger and accusation of moments ago had disintegrated. “It wasn’t you, Max.” Those dark eyes glistened as she moved toward him. “It was me. I was too young and naïve to understand that you can’t plan every step of your life. You don’t get to choose when the person you’re meant to be with walks into your world.” Her voice cracked. “Most of my life I followed some internal guide created by other people that said what I should and shouldn’t do. My mother believed I should marry a college-educated man because he would be more stable.” Her voice dipped, wobbled. “He would make a better husband than one who didn’t have a degree. He would love me and he would never hurt me. But you know what? She was wrong.” Grace bit her bottom lip and turned away.
Max should have felt vindicated and elated that she’d just admitted she’d made a bad choice. But he didn’t because he’d seen the pain on her face, heard the rawness in her voice. The man she’d chosen had hurt her, maybe caused emotional damage that had left wounds that might never heal. Max had spent years wishing someone would toss Grace aside as insignificant and unworthy—so she would know what it felt like.
But he couldn’t stand to see her in pain.
The anger fell away as he closed the distance between them, touched her shoulder. “He was a fool.” Her head dipped in what might be a nod of agreement or a sign of defeat. All the years of carrying a grudge against her, and she’d been suffering, too. He wanted to know more about the husband. Had he cheated on her, humiliated her? Frances had never mentioned problems between Grace and her husband, but why would she when he’d specifically told her he didn’t want to know anything about her niece?
Who had been the real fool?
“Grace—”
“I’ve played it safe my whole life.” She sniffed. “Never caused my parents worry, never missed curfew or snuck out to beer parties. Not like my sister. I did everything that was expected of me, and the only time I didn’t—” she paused, drew in a deep breath and whispered “—was with you.”
He’d known she was innocent and he’d never pressed her for sex. But the everything-but-sex that had devoured them that summer? Well, that was a combination of human nature, desire, hormones, and a healthy dose of lust. He hadn’t felt that close to anybody since, and he’d had plenty of opportunities with plenty of women—sex included. Why hadn’t those other women consumed him like Grace had?
Had youth embellished the experience and made it appear greater than it was, or had Grace destroyed his ability to trust women? He hoped it was one of these, even both, because the third possibility was disastrous. What if Grace was the only woman who could make him feel that wa
y?
“Grace? Look at me.” He waited, scratched the first possibility as the reason he’d never gotten close to any other woman. Youth had not embellished what they’d shared and he’d be a damn liar to pretend it had. That left the lack of trust issue, and the last one, the one that made him queasy when he thought about it. There was nobody else like Grace, not then and not now. She turned, dragged her gaze to his. A smudge of mascara streaked her left cheek, her lips were swollen, her nose red… “You’re so beautiful.”
She shook her head, her dark hair settling around her shoulders. “No, don’t say that.”
“Why? It’s true.”
Her lips quivered when she spoke. “My mother was a very practical, no-nonsense woman who taught me early on that while I wasn’t beautiful or clever, I was dependable and trustworthy. Intelligent and practical, too. She said that in the general course of life, those qualities mattered more. Fancifulness and spontaneity only created chaos, but it was a steady nature and predictable expectations that saw a person through life.” She paused, added, “And I should not forget it.”
“Your mother really said that?” What kind of mother said that to her daughter?
A burst of red splattered her face. “She was only trying to protect me from disappointment. But…after a while, I really believed I had to make the sensible choices every single time.” Her voice drifted, spilled sadness. “And you weren’t a sensible choice.”
“I see.”
“When I was with you, there was nothing sensible about me. It was like I forgot who I was, who I was supposed to be. It was scary, and I didn’t know what to do with all those feelings. The day before you came to see me, my mother told me Dad’s work had gifted me a thousand-dollar scholarship. She reminded me about the other scholarships I’d received, too, and all the people who were counting on me. How could I tell her about the guy who wanted me to run off with him?”
He wished he’d known about the controlling mother and the guilt-pack she’d strapped on her daughter. Maybe he would have handled things differently, like rethought the drive and offer to take off with him. Maybe he’d have been gentler, more understanding of her hesitation. Max touched her cheek, trailed a finger along her jawline, and said in a gentle voice, “You’ve been carrying this baggage your whole life. What’s it gotten you? Do you really want to live someone else’s life for the next thirty or forty years? Is it worth it?”
She shook her head. “My mother and I talked—” she let out a half laugh “—as much as a person can talk to my mother. It was after Grant died. I told her I had to live my life as I saw fit and she might not always agree with my choices.” She sighed. “She agreed, and then handed me a list of condos near her home. In case I wanted to relocate, which she recommended. They had mother-in-law suites, too.”
“So, a punk-ass kid who wanted to steal her daughter away was probably not going to win her approval.”
She gave him the tiniest smile. “Right.”
“Well…” He glanced around the room, settled his gaze on the face he’d never been able to forget. “Your mother’s not here; it’s just you and me.”
“Yes.”
That single word fell out in a breath of …what? Peace? Resignation? Desire? Was that a yes, she agreed, or was that a yes, we’re the only ones in this room and I want to take advantage of the situation, as in I want to be with you? Grace had always made him second-guess himself, but this time he wasn’t guessing. “Yes?”
“I’m so tired of doing what I think I’m supposed to do, and then wondering what it might have been like if I’d taken a chance and done something else.” She blinked hard, frowned. “But I’m afraid, Max. I’ve been afraid of making the wrong choice my whole life…” She blew out a breath, looked away.
“Grace. Look at me.” He’d spent years driven by her rejection, determined to prove to himself that he was more than the product of a bad environment, that he deserved to be loved, and yet, hadn’t it always been about this moment? He and Grace together again, getting their second chance?
She inched her gaze to his. “I’m sorry I hurt you, Max. I feel like there’s so much I don’t know about you, and I want to… Being here is teaching me about myself, too.” Her voice dipped, her eyes turned bright. “I think I understand why Aunt Frances made the list a thirty-day requirement.” Those eyes turned brighter, her voice softer. “And I think I also understand why she wanted us under the same roof.”
“You do?” No doubt Frances Romano had a thought or two about it, and she’d probably shared them with Pop Benito, who’d helped concoct the thirty-day-same-house-sharing scheme. There was nothing more intimidating than a senior citizen trying to get a person to open their eyes before it was too late. Frances knew she wasn’t going to be around to witness the results of her plan, but that didn’t stop her from fast-tracking the methods. Max scrubbed the emotion from his voice and asked, “Why do you think she did it?” Before Frances died, she’d talked a lot about the past and regrets and had made sure to mention Grace’s name at least once in every conversation. People have to live with their choices, she’d said. But every once in a while, they’re gifted with the rare chance to change the course of their lives.
“I think Aunt Frances wanted to give me a chance to erase my regrets,” Grace said. She clasped his hand, gave him the faintest of smiles. “And I think she wants me to start with you…my biggest regret.”
What to say to that? He had to draw in a deep breath to refocus. Hadn’t he dreamed of Grace saying those words since the night she dumped him? And now she’d spit them out and the smile she pinned to the meaning said a hell of a lot more than words could. That smile was an invitation to erase the regret and start over.
Wasn’t it?
Did she mean talking and sharing? A wave of queasiness rolled over him. Or did she mean touching and the body-to-body kind of erasing, as in sex? Max sucked in another breath, stepped back. Hadn’t he imagined this moment thousands of times? Hell, yes! Do it, you idiot! Grab her hand and take her to bed…don’t let her out until you’ve shown her what she’s been missing…let her see how it could have been…
How it could still be…
You can share the rest later…how you’re a lot more than a down-on-his-luck mechanic, how you own homes across the country, how you want to share them with her and her children… But not now! Don’t think about anything but that smile and that body, and all the years of aching for this moment.
“Max?”
He didn’t miss the uncertainty in her voice. Did she think he didn’t want her? Hell, he’d wanted her since the first time he saw her, and while he’d spent years denying it, he’d never stopped wanting her. But they needed time to talk about all the years between then and now before he touched her, because once he did, once would never be enough.
A lifetime would never be enough…
“Max?” Grace leaned on tiptoe and brushed a soft kiss on his mouth. “I want to be with you,” she whispered. “I want to finish what we started all those years ago.” Another kiss, this one deeper.
Didn’t she know that once they made love it wouldn’t be the end of anything, but the beginning of a need and a burn so deep and hot, they’d never satisfy it? How could she not know? Wasn’t it his duty to tell her how misguided she was? He opened his mouth to speak before he changed his mind, but she stopped him with another kiss.
“I want you, Max.” She eased away, her dark eyes bright. “And for once in my life I don’t want to play it safe, or second guess, or overanalyze the reasons.” Those lips he wanted to devour pulled into a slow smile. “I don’t want to do anything but feel.” The smile spread, her gaze sliding the length of him, inching back to his face. There was no mistaking the need or the passion in that look.
“Grace? Are you sure?” This was her last chance to back away. Max braced himself for her response, torn between the desire to make love to her and the need to share more about themselves before they went to bed—like how he owned a larg
e, successful company and wasn’t broke…and how she—
“Your bed or mine?”
* * *
Making love with Max was like diving into the center of a warm chocolate lava cake. Addictive, all-consuming, exhilarating. One taste was definitely not enough, and while she could pretend this reaction had more to do with a lengthy, self-imposed abstinence and less to do with the man himself, that would be a lie.
Max knew how to worship a woman’s body, caress her senses, make her believe she was the only one in the world he wanted. When she began to spiral out of control, he’d gifted her with the purest white-hot release she’d ever known—and he’d done it more than once.
Pure ecstasy.
It scared her to death because no matter how much she wanted to deny it, she could get used to the gentle touches, the kisses, the passionate lovemaking. She could get used to all of it.
Then what?
They’d made love most of the night, realizing all the fantasies they’d dreamed as teenagers. Now it was real; now it was all possible. Grace rolled over and blinked her eyes open. She laid in Max’s king-size bed naked, alone, the sheets riding low on her hips, exposing her breasts, her back… Where was he? She ran a hand through her hair, squinted at the digital clock on the nightstand. Eight-fifteen. Maybe he’d taken a run, or gone to the store, or maybe he was having breakfast and reading one of his car magazines like he’d done most mornings since she arrived.
But this morning wasn’t like the others because this was the morning after the night they’d made love. All night. She let out a soft sigh. And it was delicious and wonderful, and she wanted to do it again. Grace drifted off to sleep and had just fallen into a dream where Max was kissing his way down her back and whispering all the things he wanted to do to her, when the doorbell jolted her awake. Darn! If that was another solicitation, she was not going to be happy. She tossed back the covers and sat up, her gaze landing on the indentation in Max’s pillow. Maybe after breakfast, they could see about turning her half-finished dream into a reality.