The Superstitious Romance

by Anastasia Alexander

  He reached over with his other hand and patted hers.

  “What’s the meaning of this?” the blonde asked.

  “Good morning, Maggie,” Jackson said. “Or should I say afternoon?”

  “Who’s your friend?”

  “Maggie Campbell, this is Camille Britain. She’s a history professor who’s come to Island Park to research a book. Her daughter is the one over in that chair sleeping.”

  “Isn’t that nice?” Maggie said with calculated sweetness. Her eyes scanned over Camille before brushing her hair behind her ear. “You do look like the intellectual type.” Swiftly, she turned to Jackson and said, “It’s been a long time since we’ve seen each other.”

  “Two months,” he said. Camille let go of his arm, watching the performance.

  “It seems like an eternity.” Maggie rolled her words together, giving the impression of sweet honey—sweet, poisoned honey. “You’ve changed,” she added, her eyes studying him. She smiled. “For the better—tan and trim.”

  “Glad you think so,” Jackson said. “If you’ll excuse me, Camille and I are heading off on our walk. We better get going.” He nudged her forward.

  “Don’t play games,” Maggie said. “You’re just saying that to make me jealous.”

  Jackson flushed and Camille wondered if that was the truth. Maybe Jackson wanted his wife back. How could he not? She was so beautiful. “Why don’t you two take a walk?” Camille asked.

  “I don’t want to go on a walk. Look, I don’t have time for all this, Jackson. It is very important that I talk to you right now.” Maggie raised a delicately arched brow on her perfectly shaped face. She was the type of woman men fell head-over-heels for. The type of woman men rushed to help. The type of woman Camille disliked because they relied on skills of manipulation instead of on themselves.

  “Buuuttt,” Jackson said. He seemed so flustered he couldn’t manage to get another word out.

  Camille patted him on the arm. “Go ahead and talk to her.”

  “I’m sorry about this,” he said. “Why don’t you let Austin take my place on the walk? Austin, would you mind? Darlene can join you too.” Darlene had awakened and was standing in the background with a puzzled expression on her face.

  Austin strolled to Camille and offered his arm. “Not at all. This way, madam.” As he passed his mom, he stopped. Maggie grabbed his face between her hands and kissed him on both cheeks. Austin gave a happy laugh and a glance at Darlene that said something Camille didn’t understand.

  When Camille and the kids reached the main road, Darlene laughed, pointing her finger at Austin. “She drowned you in lipstick. Looks like you cut yourself shaving.”

  “Shut up.” Austin wiped his cheeks.

  Darlene laughed even harder. “Red’s a good color on you.”

  “I mean it. You’re going to get it if you don’t stop.”

  “Get what?” Darlene challenged.

  “Get poked with thistles.” He dashed to a clump of purple flowers.

  Darlene screamed and ran away. Austin ran after her, but he didn’t take the flowers and by the time Camille caught up to them, they were talking companionably.

  They continued through the mid-day heat, following the circling dirt road around the island. The light chatter of her daughter and her young adult male companion sounded far away, even though they were only a few steps in front of Camille. It was as if a vacuum sucked away the words, leaving a faint muddle of noise trailing behind them. On top of their static, Camille could hear in her mind the low sensual voice of Maggie as she spoke the name “Jackson.” The inflection she used had a possessive, demanding quality that could drive a person mad.

  Camille couldn’t shake the chime of Maggie’s voice or her flawless skin, Barbie-doll figure, and devious eyes. None of that matters, Camille thought, feeling herself sink into a deep, wallowing pool of depression. But it seemed impossible for a man not to be completely lured into the charmed charismatic spell Maggie cast. She was Jackson’s ex-wife and Austin’s mother. She had every right to be there. It was Camille who was misplaced, and it was Camille who was the stranger, the interloper.

  The group hadn’t gone far when Camille made an excuse of feeling tired. “I’m heading home.”

  “I’ll drive you if you like, Miss Britain,” Austin said.

  Miss. That’s what she was now. “Thank you, but I’d rather walk.”

  “Wait up, Mom. I’m coming.” Darlene hurried toward her.

  “Stay and have some fun.”

  “But—” Camille heard Darlene say before she strode away.

  Camille had to pass Jackson’s cabin on the way. The sun was hidden as the wind puffed in graying skies, dotted with clouds. The rugged deep blues, purples, and greens of the mountains stood jagged behind the water. The reservoir was deep gray near Jackson’s cabin, and the couple who stood in front of the water were dark shadows.

  What did it matter to her that Jackson talked to his wife? It was a natural thing. Why did it make her feel so awful?

  * * *

  Jackson stopped, staring at Maggie’s sea-green eyes and silky, white skin as they strolled the beach. She’d trimmed her hair, allowing romantic tendrils to wrap around her face. She’d lost weight as well. “I called you,” he said. “Did you get my message?”

  “I miss you, Jaxy.” She rolled his name around on her tongue as she reached out and touched his biceps. A shiver shot through him. The wind swept her short curls onto her face. She brushed her hair back then stood on her tip-toes and kissed him longingly. The roll of waves splashed near their feet. Jackson stood there, staring, stunned.

  “I love you,” Maggie whispered. “I love you.”

  “But I—I thought—” Jackson stammered. He’d dreamed of this happening. Of her seeing him with Camille and understanding how much she’d lost. Yet, now that his dream might be coming true, he found he didn’t trust it. Or her.

  “We need to spend more time together. Look, I have to go in a couple minutes. I just barely had enough time to run up here and see you, but I’ll be back soon.”

  The curve of her body and her flashy, demanding personality preyed on his longing. He kept his gaze on the dark reservoir. The water ruffled in the breeze, rolling its thick black waves in a whimsical fashion. His mind spun. It was as if Maggie stood right before him talking, touching him, yet he was suddenly miles away. He wanted to know what she said, but somehow he couldn’t focus. Now she was snuggling against his chest, kissing him lightly. She’d asked him a question. “Whaaat?” he asked.

  She laughed. “I was just curious as to why you were hanging out with someone like that woman. She’s hardly your type.”

  “Maggie, why are you really here?” he whispered.

  “What, can’t I come and visit, or is that not allowed?”

  “It’s allowed.” He could see his fast response, his anxiousness, had registered its meaning to Maggie. She smiled, the kind of smile that leaped inside him. He wrapped his arms around her slender body. In a swiping motion, he bent to find her lips as he had done so many times before, but this time with anxious speed. When she pulled away from him, his heart hurt from the rapid beating. This was really happening.

  The sinking sun highlighted the richness of her hair. He stroked it, gently pressing her head to rest against his chest. Her silky tresses brushed against his chin with a floral scent. But all too quickly, she pushed away, slipped her long, slender fingers around his large ones, and guided him back to the cabin. He didn’t dare allow himself to think what this woman was up to.

  She grabbed his forearm with a firm grip and pulled him to a stop halfway to the cabin. “I need you to do me a little favor.”

  “What’s that?”

  “I need you to spot me some cash.”

  “What? Why? I left you with plenty in the divorce.”

  Her thin index reached his lips as she whispered, “Shhh. Don’t say such an ugly word.”

  “What’s this about? Are we divorce
d or not?”

  “It’s not about that at all. I told you I don’t want to talk about it. I can’t deal with all that right now. I need time. I am in a bind. Can you help me out?” A boat in the lake zoomed passed them, the headlights shining in the dying sunlight. Kids squealed in the back of the boat.

  “How did you get in debt? I gave you more than plenty. I don’t understand.”

  “I know. I’ll explain it all later. We need to go inside. I haven’t seen Austin in a long time, and he should be back from his stroll. This loan will benefit you a lot. It won’t be very long before I make it up to you, double. I promise.”

  He took her clenched hands off his sleeves and squeezed them. “What have you gotten yourself into?”

  “It’s wonderful. Guaranteed. This is the best.”

  “Maggie.”

  “Will you please give me some money to tide me over?”

  “Maggie.”

  She pulled him close and kissed him. Not a few-seconds smooch, but a long and passionate kiss. Her fingers slid through his hair as she pulled his head closer. After a long moment, she yanked back for a gasp of air. “Please, Jaxy, I’ll pay you back. Promise.”

  He kissed her again. “Okay. I can’t see how it would hurt.”

  She smiled as she held his hand. They walked through the hip-high weeds back to the cabin.

  Austin pounced on them at the door, like a happy, lonely puppy excited to see his owner. “Miss Britain went to her cabin,” Austin said, taking Maggie’s coat from her.

  “Ms,” Jackson corrected.

  “She was tired,” Darlene volunteered.

  “Not as tired as I am. I just barely flew in from New York yesterday, plus I had a three-hour layover. I drove straight here from Colorado. Talk about exhausting.”

  “Where were you flying from?” Austin asked.

  “Paris, my dear. Oh, what a lovely city. And there are painters there too. You know, the ones that do portraits like they did in the old days. I had one done of me.” Jackson walked over to the fireplace to build a fire. Maggie had a way of going on and on. His movement didn’t slow her talk any. “The artist begged me, actually. I didn’t have enough time, but he looked so hopeful that I’d do it, I hated to disappoint him.”

  “Yeah, he wanted to make enough money for dinner that night,” Austin said. He was kicked back in his chair, his foot crossed over his opposite leg, arms folded.

  Maggie darted him a glare then said, “Absolutely not. He paid me to pose for him. He’ll be mailing me the painting. You should’ve seen how excited he was when I told him I’d do it. He looked like he won the jackpot on Jeopardy. You’ll have to come see it when it arrives. I’m positive you’ll love it. You always have a great eye for quality, and Phillip Frances is one of the best. I do miss having you around home. All the girls ask about you. You could have any three or four you’d pick. They’d be so thrilled to have your attention, they wouldn’t even mind sharing.”

  “Mom!”

  “It’s true.”

  Darlene raised her eyebrows, but Austin answered his mother by shrugging. “Mom, I thought you wanted to move,” he said.

  Maggie laughed. “I tossed that around, but Michael thought we should . . .”

  “Michael! Who’s he?” Jackson dropped the fire poker, making a loud clanging sound. He picked it up, knowing his face was stormy with anger.

  “Oops.” Maggie brought her hand to her lips.

  “Mom!” Austin stared at her. “What does ‘oops’ mean?”

  “Calm down, Austin.” Maggie patted the air as if signaling a dog to sit. “Michael is just a friend who stays with me when I’m in the states. But after I came home from France this time, I was frantic to see you.” She reached across the table and grabbed Austin’s chin.

  He swatted away her hand. “Don’t.”

  “Don’t you understand?” Maggie asked. “I’m free now. I come and go with whoever I want and stay for as long as I want.”

  “I see.” Jackson dropped the log on the hearth and wiped his hands. “That’s what we were to you? Silly entanglements.”

  “Oh, sweetheart, don’t get so dramatic. I love you. You know that. My reliable Jackson.”

  “Your security blanket.”

  “Well . . .”

  * * *

  “Excuse me,” Darlene said as the discussion continued. No one appeared to hear her as she arose and hurried out of the room, slamming the door. Outside, the quiet wrapped around her with a tight grip. It was as if a man encircled his whole hand around her, choking, causing her to struggle to breathe. She ignored it and continued walking through the trees in Jackson’s backyard.

  Maggie, Jackson, her mom, her dad—all of them were doing everything wrong. Why were they making such messes of their lives? They should have figured it out by now. Her mom had been too weak; that had been her error. She had put on the airs of a strong, independent woman, especially when she talked about her work and standing up to the “men” in the university scene. But the truth was, the men were worn-out old guys who were too tired from years of battling students to have any fight left.

  Her father had walked all over her mom, and Darlene had never once seen her mom stand up for herself. He’d fuss about dinner, and instead of saying, “If you don’t like it, do it yourself,” like Darlene would have said, her mom frantically searched the cupboard for something to satisfy him. It was like that when they talked about ideas, concepts, people, or which piece of furniture to put in the front parlor. Her dad had grown disgusted with a doormat for a wife and left to find someone more like “his Darlene.”

  Darlene knew she was feisty and took pride in her drive to make the world more fair for women. When she had stood up to her father, telling him he was “a deplorable male chauvinist pig” or “a domineering dictator,” he had stared at her with shock. Then slowly, amusement spread through him, and he’d laugh at his failed effort and the fact that she called him on it.

  Her mom would mumble, “I could never get away with that,” but Darlene knew it was an excuse. Her mom never had the strength to stand up to him.

  After watching Jackson with Maggie, Darlene decided he was as weak as her mother. Maggie was the extreme opposite—a flat-out bully. All these thoughts raced through her mind as she passed the mailboxes. She heard distant laughter of children, but it was the deep voice of Austin that caused her to look up.

  His sharp brown eyes stared at her with the intensity of the stormy sky rolling toward them. “Hello,” he muttered, his head hanging low and his brown, tousled hair blowing at the wind’s whim.

  The image of a beaten dog came to Darlene. “What are you doing?” she asked, trying not to signal she noticed his pain.

  “Walking and thinking, the same as you.”

  “Then have you figured out that our parents go about living their lives all wrong?”

  Austin chuckled. “Yeah, I figured that. I was just thinking how amazing it is they manage to make such a big mess of everything.”

  “Amen. They don’t have to make everything so hard,” Darlene said, walking with him in the opposite direction she had been going.

  “My mom is a good person.” Austin changed the subject abruptly, as if he had to explain his family. “When I was little, she always taught me right from wrong. Once she took me to a prison and told me I never wanted to go there.”

  “I guess I lucked out,” Darlene said. “My mom never did that.”

  Their shoes crunched against the rocks on the dirt road, a sprinkle of rain falling on them every now and then.

  “Well, it made an impression on me.” His voice was so soft, Darlene could barely hear the words, and she guessed that he was having trouble with his mom admitting that she was here one day and gone another. His dad might want his mother back, but even if he won her, it didn’t look like she’d be staying long.

  Austin’s square jaw was drawn tight, and he stared fiercely, his face a black thundercloud. “My mom’s lost.”

  *
* *

  Camille found the pounding on the door irritating. She wanted to scream, “Go away,” but realized nothing would chase the person behind the knock away. When she pulled open the door, a soggy Jackson stood before her, eyes downcast and shoulders slumped.

  “What?” she choked out, flushing red at the memory of his stunning wife.

  “You won the bet. I’m here to be your service man.”

  Camille stared at him blankly.

  “Our bet about the evil spirit coming? Remember? Well, the evil spirit came. I can’t pretend it didn’t, so I’m at your mercy. You win.”

  Camille opened her door wider.

  She waited for Jackson to sit on the sofa in the living room before making herself comfortable in the plump chair farthest away from him. He sat on the edge of his seat as if he wanted to bolt, scanning the room until his eyes came to rest on the wood cabinet. He stood and proceeded to make a fire.

  “So the bet will be honored with you making a fire?” she asked, trying to come up with something clever to say.

  Jackson glanced at her, sadness flickering across his face. “No. This is a favor for a friend. Besides, I owe you one for flubbing our afternoon.”

  “It’s hardly your fault. You didn’t know she was coming.”

  He sighed. “No, but I hoped she would.”

  “Wh—”

  “I wanted her to be jealous. I’ve been leading you on the past couple of days.”

  “That’s not tr—”

  “Don’t deny it, Camille. We’ve had more than friendly exchanges.”

  “Uh—”

  “You’re such a beautiful, interesting woman, I couldn’t resist. I enjoyed our time together. I didn’t think about her at all. Or not much. I like being with you.”

  “But . . .”

  “But nothing, except I should’ve gotten my feelings straight sooner. Well?” he asked, staring at her chin.

  “Well, what?” She twisted her fingers together.

  “How do you feel about me?”

  A picture of the gorgeous Maggie and her tempting eyes came to Camille. Jackson had given Maggie a look he could never give her, no matter how much she longed for it. It was time she accepted the facts and stop fantasizing her life away. He would go back to Maggie sooner or later. Camille knew he still loved his wife.