Maggie bit her lower lip. Had she made a mistake taking Andy away from his dad and the hospital? She'd thought it would be good for the kids to get a break from that setting, but maybe she'd been wrong.
It was strange to second-guess herself. She usually thought she had all the answers. But today she felt robbed of her certainty.
Ian had done this to her. She'd been so sure he was acting selfishly in wanting to see his kids before his procedure, but that hadn't been the case. In fact, he'd been putting their needs ahead of his own.
"Come on. Let's open this place up." Maggie tried for as much cheer as she could muster as she got out of the car. "Help people improve their lives with green, living things."
"Improve their lives." Kathy giggled and gravitated toward Maggie as they went up the steps.
Andy trudged behind them.
Maggie did her best not to glance worriedly back at him. Maybe it would have been better to leave Andy with his father at the hospital. Ian had been doing a good job of reassuring the kids. Even before the wheels of his gurney had stopped rolling from his trip to the Cath lab, he'd been right on top of it, exuding positive vibes and good cheer. He must have been feeling like hell, but he'd put on a show of health and vigor for his kids.
Was this the upside to being an arrogant bastard? Maggie wondered. At the hospital Ian had been able to use his overweening confidence to support others. He'd acted almost, kind of, like a good guy.
Taking in a deep breath, Maggie put an arm around Kathy as she fished for her key with her other hand. She wanted to take a break from considering these disturbing new opinions of Ian.
She unlocked the door and pushed it open, feeling some mild resistance from a pile of envelopes inside. "Looks like the mailman came," she mumbled. A cursory glance told her he hadn't left a check from Corporate Edges.
"I'll pick it up," Andy murmured, and bent to gather the envelopes. Maggie could see one of them was an electric bill, a cut-off notice judging by the pink tinge showing through the address window.
But the lack of a check to pay mounting bills was only a matter of money. She had her health, and for that she felt profoundly grateful today.
"Now, let's see what needs doing," she mused, glancing out the opposite door toward the grounds. "The azaleas are rather dry and could be watered, and there are a lot of dead leaves from last week's winds."
"Grandma and Grandpa," Kathy reminded her.
Maggie blew out a breath. "Oh, yeah." If the child hadn't insisted, Maggie would have delayed the call as long as possible. It was never easy talking to her father. But now she took the mail from Andy, set it on the counter, and then picked up the phone sitting there. Repressing a sigh, she dialed the Florida exchange.
Her mother picked up on the second ring. She was always quick to get to the phone. Maggie knew this was because if her mom didn't get to it first, she'd never have the chance to talk to anybody.
"Maggie!" she exclaimed. "It's so good to hear from you." Masterfully, she used utter delight in order to strike a brilliant chord of guilt in her daughter.
"Uh, good to talk to you, too, Mom."
In the background, Maggie could hear her father grumble, "Who is it, Lilah?"
Lilah's voice muffled as she apparently turned to address her husband. "It's Maggie."
"Maggie. About time she checked in."
Maggie's mother unmuffled her voice. "How are you doing, sweetheart? Still seeing that nice young man—what was his name again?"
"Paul," Maggie said. "And no. Paul and I parted company a while back. Don't you remember, I told you?" At least three times over the past six months. "Listen, Mom, I've got the kids here, Ian's kids."
"What, dear? You have Ian's kids? Oh, you mean with you right now. How nice." Her mother's tone managed to convey how wonderful it must be for the childless Maggie to have the chance to borrow someone else's children.
"Yes, Mom, it would be nice, except— Well, there was something of a...situation this morning." Thinking these were the same lame words she'd used when she'd picked Andy up from school, Maggie shook her head and tried to be more direct. "Ian had a heart attack this morning. Just a small one," Maggie rushed to add, with a glance toward his listening children. She still didn't know, however, if this were true.
"A heart attack!" Lilah exclaimed.
"What?" Maggie's father's voice boomed in the background. "Who had a heart attack?"
Maggie heard her mother turn from the phone. "Ian."
"What?" Maggie's father boomed even louder. "Gimme that." The next instant it was his voice that blasted in Maggie's ear. "What's this about a heart attack, and Ian?"
I believe Mom just told you about it. But Maggie knew sarcasm never made an impression on her father. Actually, nothing much made an impression on him.
"Ian had a small heart attack this morning," she repeated. "But they fixed it, catheterized it. Everything's fine now—"
"Ian had a heart attack?" It came out accusatory, as if the whole thing were somehow Maggie's fault.
"Is he all right?" Maggie could hear her mother ask.
"Pipe down," her father ordered his wife, then asked Maggie, "Is he all right?"
Maggie could feel her teeth start to grind. This was why she found calling her parents so difficult, the way her father always pushed her mother down—exactly the way he used to try pushing Maggie down, too. "Ian's fine. Just has to stay in the hospital a day or two to make sure everything's all right." She made the reassurance more for Kathy and Andy than for her father.
"He oughta watch his cholesterol," Arthur O'Connell boomed. "That's what'll do you in, that cholesterol. Ian must've been packing it in."
"Ah..." Maggie tried to think if she knew anything about Ian's diet, wishing she could contradict her father's assertion with some retort regarding Ian's low-cholesterol regime. But of course she had no idea. "Um, perhaps you can give him a lecture on the subject," she said instead. Right. Let the two domineering males go head-to-head and leave everyone else out of it.
"I'll do that," Arthur declared.
"Oh, uh, the kids are here and they want to say hi." Maybe Maggie could yet get off the phone before ending up in a fight with her dad. She quickly handed the receiver to Kathy.
Too young and innocent to find her grandfather offensive, Kathy took the phone with a smile. "Hi, Grandpa," she sang. "Yes, yes, I'm fine. Daddy's fine, too."
Hulking his shoulders, Andy took a step backward. "I'll...talk to 'em later. Uh, wanta do something outside now. You said you needed leaves raked?"
"Sure, sure. The rakes are over in the storage shed." As Kathy continued chattering on the phone, Maggie walked Andy over to the open side of the nursery building and pointed to the storage shed across the field. "Think you can find them?"
"Yeah, no problem." Andy immediately started out the opening.
Maggie sucked in her lips. As she watched him march across the garden, her sense of uncertainty returned, new and disconcerting.
As if to add to Maggie's uneasy reflections, Kathy turned to her, phone held out. "Grandpa wants to talk to you again."
"He does?"
Kathy pressed the receiver into Maggie's hand. "Where's Andy?"
"Outside."
"He better not have the hose. I wanted to do the watering." Kathy hurried from the room.
Releasing a deep sigh, Maggie put the phone to her ear. "Hi, Dad. Me again. You wanted to talk?"
"Yeah. I just wanted to say..." Arthur's voice lowered to a mumble. "You oughta call more often."
Maggie rolled her eyes. "Yes, Dad."
"Make your mother happy," he muttered.
"Right." As if Arthur himself cared about making Lilah happy. For forty-odd years he'd ordered her mother's every move, blocked her attempts to create a life of her own, and generally made sure things were always done his way.
His behavior was so much like Ian's had been with Sophia it was uncanny. Clearly, in choosing a husband, Maggie's sister had repeated history.
Often Maggie had been torn between frustration and pity for her sister. Why had she chosen a second Arthur?
Meanwhile, her father spoke again. "I mean that," he grumbled.
"You mean what?"
"Never mind," Arthur replied. "Just call again soon."
"Sure, sure." Maggie frowned, working back the conversation to realize her father had been talking about the importance of making her mother happy. Please! But she promised anyway, "I'll call again, keep you and Mom up to date."
"You do that," Arthur ordered.
Maggie hung up with a distinct sense of relief. She wasn't sure she could have taken hearing any more nonsense about Arthur wanting to make Lilah happy. He'd never been considerate of his wife. Just like Ian.
Maggie's brows drew into a sudden frown. And yet...she had to recall Ian's astonishing behavior that very morning. He'd thought about the kids, made himself strong for the kids, despite what it must have cost him. His behavior rocked, just a little, the way Maggie had always seen him.
Abruptly, Maggie lifted her hand off the telephone. She took a step back. No. Oh, no. This was too much. Clearly, she was letting the drama of the situation get to her. Her father was who he was. And so, basically, was Ian. A bull-headed tyrant.
With a shake of her head, Maggie made for the garden. Ian and her dad: they were bull-headed tyrants, the pair of them.
CHAPTER FOUR
Just relax and get better. That's what Ian's boss, Howard Gesell, had told him over the phone on Saturday afternoon.
On Monday morning, Ian dropped onto the edge of his hospital bed, panting and definite there was nothing relaxing about being in the hospital. His back ached from the hours he'd had to lie on it Friday, he hadn't slept in three nights, and the nurse came around every two hours to force-march him down the hall.
Ian stared down at his knees, covered in the jogging pants Maggie had brought the day before. It had taken him half an hour to struggle into the clothes and now, after another one of the forced marches down the hall, he was panting like he'd just run a mile.
Pathetic, that's what he was. Weak as a newborn kitten.
Of course, he was glad to be alive at all. Thrilled. But it was...humbling.
"All right, Mr. Muldaur." A nurse strode into his room. She was pushing a wheelchair. "Your ride has arrived."
Ian gave the nurse a slit-eyed glance. "You've got to be kidding. A wheelchair?" This was the woman who must have walked him five miles just that morning.
"Oh, good, you're eyes are working. That's exactly what it is."
No way. Ian had had quite enough humility already. It was time to be strong again, strong enough to take care of his family. Strong the way he'd always been.
Even if he was feeling pretty tired and weak.
Giving the nurse his most imperious look, he said, "I'm not getting into any wimpy—"
The rest of Ian's reply was interrupted by the troop that suddenly invaded the room.
"Daddy!" Kathy looped around the offending wheelchair to rush toward him. "You're coming home. Finally!" She threw her arms around his neck.
His daughter could make a troll feel loved, Ian thought. He put one of his own arms around Kathy, even as he glanced over her shoulder.
Andy stood shifting weight by the nurse's side, looking in no way delighted. Maggie stood a little behind Andy. She put a hand on the boy's shoulder.
Her eyes met Ian's.
He felt a peculiar awareness when their eyes made contact. He was still surprised she'd gone and done what he'd asked on Friday, but he was even more discomposed by all she'd done for his family since then. She'd taken care of the kids all weekend, without Ian even having to ask the favor.
Not only that, but she'd brought them every day to see him, magically appearing just when he was feeling most lonely, and magically departing just when he was in danger of giving away how tired and weak he really was.
He felt grateful, embarrassed, and oddly moved.
A coward, he supposed, he looked away from Maggie first.
Kathy, ever sensitive, picked up on something. "You are ready to go, aren't you, Daddy?" Her face puckered with worry as she dropped to a seat by his side.
"You better believe it, sugar." Of this, Ian was certain. He was dying to get out of the hospital. His gaze slipped sidewards. Although not via any wheelchair.
Ian was narrowing his eyes, preparing an argument against the invalid device, when Maggie stopped everything by opening her trap.
"Just a minute," she blabbed, and turned to the nurse. "Aren't there some papers to sign? And what about instructions? You know, what he's supposed to do and not do?"
"Oh, don't worry. We'll get to all that." The nurse lifted a clipboard and her eyes went to Ian, as if she were about to come around the wheelchair and hand it to him. But then she stopped. Her lips curved ironically. "Oh, no. I've gotten to know you too well."
"Excuse me?"
With the same ironic smile, the nurse turned to hand Maggie, of all people, the clipboard. "Come to think of it, I'm going to give you his discharge instructions."
To her credit, Maggie looked astonished. Indeed, Ian might have enjoyed the dismay that flashed across her bold Irish features if he weren't so embarrassed about being treated like a child.
"Never mind," he rumbled, and held out a hand. "You can give that to me."
But Maggie's dismay had vanished. Shooting Ian a look that belied her compassionate behavior over the weekend, she took the damn clipboard. "Oh, I don't mind reading it."
Ian ground his teeth.
Acting as if she didn't notice his annoyance, Maggie's gaze travelled down the sheet.
While Kathy stayed on the bed beside Ian, her knees crossed and swinging one foot, Andy leaned to read over Maggie's elbow.
Ian did his best to appear impassive, but he was fuming. Hello? What did his discharge instructions have to do with Maggie?
"Hm!" Maggie raised the top sheet to peruse the one underneath it.
Ian could feel his face warm. The doctor had already gone over the basics with him: no driving, no lifting, no pushing or pulling. Continue with the walks, and oh yes—as if it were relevant—no sex. He might as well be an infant.
The doctor had said even more, but Ian quickly blocked from his mind that part of the conversation.
"Come on." He gestured with his hand. "Give it here."
"Okay." Maggie smiled and walked over to give him the clipboard. "I'm done reading it."
With a growl, Ian snatched it from her.
Maggie acted like she hadn't noticed either the snatch or the growl. She turned to the nurse. "I guess we're ready to leave now."
"Fine." The nurse smiled at Ian. "If you'll just get in the wheelchair, Mr. Muldaur?"
Over his dead body. He was trying to prove he was strong here, not the other way around.
"It's hospital regulations," Kathy put in, still swinging her foot. "Everybody has to leave in a wheelchair."
Ian glanced at her. "And you would know that how?"
Kathy smiled. "TV."
Ian turned back to the nurse. "I don't get it. Aren't I supposed to be getting exercise?"
"True. But your daughter is right, Mr. Muldaur. This is hospital policy."
Ian snapped his teeth together. He was okay now. They'd fixed him. All right, so he was feeling a little washed out, what with the eight hours he'd had to lie flat on his back and the lack of sleep, but that was only temporary. The doctor had told him this, too. In fact, it was going to be a burden to have to follow all the restrictions on the discharge instructions. The doctor had assured Ian he'd be feeling fine in a day or two, as if nothing had ever happened. He'd have to be careful not to overdo things.
In the hospital room, no one said a word. The only movement was Kathy, swinging her foot. Ian supposed they were all wondering what his problem was. He was leaving. He was alive. He was going to be okay.
How could he explain the importance of leaving under his own steam, that he wanted t
o show he was normal and strong again? Even if he wasn't completely sure he was either.
For some reason, he looked toward Maggie.
She was regarding him tilt-headed, like she was trying to figure him out, like maybe she even could figure him out.
Ian felt a wariness in his belly. The last person he wanted to guess his underlying fear was Maggie. That would be worse than anything.
Suddenly, he knew what he had to do. "Fine." He pushed up from his seat on the bed. "I'll get in the wheelchair."
"Way to go, Dad." Kathy hopped to her feet.
Andy frowned.
Maggie— Well, Ian saw he'd managed to surprise her. Her head of unruly auburn curls bobbed up straight. Clearly, she hadn't expected him to give in. She hadn't expected him to show that much confidence.
Feeling more confident, in truth, Ian strolled toward the offending wheelchair. He was going to be okay. He didn't have to prove it to anybody, including himself. With deep satisfaction, he lowered into the seat of the wheelchair.
It was no burden whatsoever to go and surprise Maggie.
"Let's go," he said.
~~~
Maggie realized she was an idiot. As she drove them all to Ian's house from the hospital, she chewed on her lower lip while her mind wrestled the problem posed by her perusal of Ian's discharge instructions.
Turning Ian's SUV onto his street, she made a point of releasing her abused lip. She did her best to relax her tense shoulders.
But she knew she was still an idiot. Somehow, she'd imagined this drive would be the end of it. She'd once again borrow Ian's Grand Cherokee, which she'd picked up from his office parking lot on Friday. With his bigger car, she'd fetch the patient from the hospital, drive him home, then wave everyone goodbye.
Ian's problems, and her involvement in them, would become things of the past. Oh, she'd phone in a day or two, make sure everything was okay, but basically she'd be out of it. Back to her own life, happily grubbing about in her nursery. She'd forget she'd ever harbored a kind thought in her head about Ian, the man who'd bossed her sister around the entire span of their marriage. Easy.
No. Stupid.
Maggie pulled the Cherokee into the Muldaur driveway. "All right, then!" she called heartily as she shifted into park. "Back home."
That'll Be the Day Page 4