"But you had Aunt Maggie," Andy interjected.
Ian shook his head. "I got Maggie by default. By luck and—well, that didn't turn out so good, either, because I ended up leaning on her too much, came to need her too much—" Ian had to stop then, because despite his best efforts to prevent it, his throat had closed up.
But the look of scorn was fading from Andy's face. "I know what you mean," he said, earnest. "I know exactly what you mean. If you need somebody and they don't need you back—"
Ian frowned.
Andy, meanwhile, was getting animated. He leaned over the little table. "If you need somebody, and they don't need you back—it makes you weak, puts you in a bad position. Better to buck up, just suck it in, and depend only on yourself."
Ian was now staring at his son. A strange emotion curled inside him. It was recognition, he realized. Bone deep recognition. This had been his life philosophy, for as long as he could remember—ever since he'd learned he'd had an original set of parents, a set who'd rejected him.
Be self-sufficient. Don't depend on other people. Let them depend on you. He'd never been that close to his adoptive parents. Was it any wonder Andy was not very close to him?
Ian had probably taught him to be that way. By his behavior, by his life style...by not needing Andy.
The sudden epiphany nearly paralyzed Ian with horror, but he managed to move his lips. "No," he said.
"Yes," Andy said, intent. "Just think. If you hadn't let yourself need Aunt Maggie, you wouldn't be feeling so miserable about breaking up with her—"
"No."
"I mean, I know you kinda needed her for regular stuff, like driving us to school and going to the grocery store, but you made a mistake to need her."
"Yeah, well—" Logically, Andy was right. And emotionally, God, Ian had lived this way himself. But—but—it wasn't right. And for heaven's sake, he wanted Andy to need him.
"No," he said, and gulped in a breath. "Think of your mother."
That stopped Andy in his tracks. His eyes widened. "What?"
What, indeed? Why had he brought up Sophia? For one dazed minute, Ian had no idea. Then words came to him, scratchy. "I never thought I needed her. Oh, I loved her. I adored her. But I thought it was the other way around. I thought she was the one who needed me. But when she died—" When she died... Ian scrambled for composure. "I found out how wrong I was. I needed her. Boy, did I need her. She was—my life, and my connection to you kids. Without her..." Ian pressed his lips together hard. He shook his head. "I've been drowning."
Which he appeared to be doing, more than ever, at that moment. How was bringing up Sophia and how his need for her had ended so badly with her death, going to turn this conversation in the right direction?
Across from him, Andy's face crumpled. Great. Oh, just great. Ian had screwed up royally. Andy blubbered something unintelligible, then spoke again, more clearly. "I needed her, too."
What? What was that?
Andy reached across the table and grabbed Ian's wrist. "I needed her, too. You weren't enough, Dad. You didn't even try to be."
"I know, I know." Ian put his hand over Andy's.
"Shit," Andy said. "I'm crying."
Ian laughed. "So am I."
Through his tears, Andy laughed, too. "I thought I was the only one who missed her."
"No way."
"I thought all you cared about was your job."
"No. My job was...a convenient hiding place."
"A hiding place?"
Ian shrugged. "Where I didn't have to hurt or feel lonely."
"That was fucked," Andy said.
"Yeah." Ian smiled. "It was fucked."
Andy laughed and sniffled at the same time.
"So..." Ian said. "We're agreed we both miss Mom like crazy."
Andy nodded and wiped his face with his sleeve.
"That isn't likely to change," Ian admitted carefully. "But..."
Andy's gaze went back to his father. "But?"
"But...we do have each other," Ian went on, taking it slow. He felt like he was crossing a tightrope stretched over an abyss. "I couldn't help losing Mom, but I don't want to lose you, too. I want...you. In my life." He swallowed painfully. This was feeling too much like déjà vu. He'd said almost these exact same words to Maggie and been shot down. He went on anyway. "I love you."
And, déjà vu, Andy wasn't smiling and reaching out for him in response. Instead, his face crumpled again.
Ian took a big chance then. He got up from his seat and went around the table so he could take hold of Andy. He folded him in an embrace from which there would be no escape.
Desperate? Certainly. Effective? Well...? Well...?
Ian closed his eyes as, to his surprise and relief, Andy hugged him back.
~~~
"Nothing."
Maggie hissed the word under her breath as she went through the Saturday mail. No check from Corporate Edges lay among the bills and mailers which had just been delivered to the nursery at noon.
Sighing, Maggie threw the mail onto the counter and stalked out to the garden. A few customers strolled the aisles. Kathy stood next to a manila mango plant, apparently pointing out its salient features to a smiling older man with a beard.
Maggie felt depressed and stupid. By the time Corporate Edges finally deigned to send their check, she'd be paying interest on her credit card and shelling out money to the utilities for reconnect charges. She'd be behind rather than ahead.
It didn't help matters that she remembered Ian warning her all this would come to pass. He'd cautioned her not to let Corporate Edges take her inventory without a sizable deposit.
Of course she'd been too damn stubborn to take his advice.
With her mouth twisting, she bent to pull out a weed in a rose bush pot. It was painful to notice how well her situation illustrated that worst of both worlds: Ian attempting to flex his dominance—and she doing the very same thing.
What was truly shocking, however, was her longing to throw herself right back into the fray with him. Could she possibly be that unhealthy?
The ringing of the telephone inside the building interrupted her gloomy reflection. Groaning, Maggie rose from her crouched position, tossed the weeds to the ground, and went back into the building to pick up the phone. "Country Gardens Nursery," she announced, with as cheery a voice as she could muster.
"Maggie. So you're there today. Good."
Maggie blinked. It was Alana's voice. Unbelievable. If the head designer for Corporate Edges thought she was getting more inventory without paying for the last batch, she could just—
"Listen, I'm sorry. Very, very sorry," Alana broke into Maggie's thoughts with a tone near panic. "The check didn't go out with yesterday's mail. I swear I told the bookkeeper to make sure it went out, but there was some sort of mix-up. I swear it was supposed to go out."
Maggie listened to this in stupefaction. Alana was in a panic...about getting Maggie her money?
"Do you plan to be there for another hour?" Alana wanted to know.
"Uh..."
"I'll send over a special messenger with the check. Will that be okay?"
"Um—" Maggie cleared her throat. Would that be okay? She'd been making plans to take out a second mortgage on her house or maybe hock her favorite antique Mexican chest. Anything to get by without antagonizing her biggest customer. "Uh, sure," Maggie agreed. "I guess that'd be okay."
"Good." Alana sounded extraordinarily relieved. "Because I seriously don't want legal involved in this. That would mean my butt."
"Ah." Maggie frowned. "Legal."
"I can read between the lines." Alana released a dry laugh. "Your partner made himself pretty clear, between the lines, in that letter he sent."
"My partner," Maggie repeated.
"Mr. Muldaur." Alana started to sound suspicious. "He is your partner, isn't he?"
"Um..." Maggie felt a funny sinking sensation in her stomach. "He sent you a letter?"
"He didn't tell you?" Alana's suspi
cion audibly grew.
"Oh, it must have slipped his mind." As if Ian would have dared tell Maggie he was doing any such interfering, bossy thing. She could feel her blood pressure start to rise.
"I'll just bet it did," Alana went on, dry. "He sent a letter threatening legal action if we didn't pay your bill on time. Well, not in so many words but like I said, I can read between the lines. So he's not your partner?"
"No," Maggie decided to admit, but hastily added, "Not that he wouldn't hire a lawyer on my behalf." Come to think of it, it wouldn't be beyond Ian's gall to do so.
Alana heaved a disgusted sigh. "Not your partner. Just a good friend, looking out for you."
Maggie opened her mouth, but nothing came out, no further words of disgust of her own regarding Ian's overbearing behavior. Because...Alana was right. Ian had been looking out for her.
He certainly hadn't been protecting his own interests. He must have known his interference would get him in hot water with Maggie.
Swallowing, Maggie asked Alana, "What's the postmark date on the letter you got?"
"Uh, let me see..." There was the sound of paper shuffling before Alana said, "Tuesday. We didn't receive it until Thursday, and I swear that check was supposed to go out yesterday."
Tuesday. Before she and Ian had had their fight, before he'd asked her to marry him. He was an intelligent man. He had to have realized sending this letter would make Maggie boiling mad. It could well cancel any agreement she might have made to marry him.
He'd done it anyway. Not to further any cause of his own, that was for sure. No, he'd sent it because he'd known Maggie was going to need money. He'd known she wouldn't want to upset her relationship with her client. So he'd done it to help her. Only to help her.
Maggie felt emotion swelling in her chest. He'd wanted her to keep her business and her passion. His goal had been wholly constructive.
"So..." Alana sounded cagey. "Do I have to send over that check right away or not?"
"Oh, you'd better send it," Maggie advised. "As you can see, I have little control over what Mr. Muldaur will do. I may be willing to wait for that money, but it doesn't sound like he is."
There was a pause over the phone wires. "All right." Alana sounded resigned. "I'll send it on over."
"That would be wise." Maggie set down the phone. Emotion continued expanding in her chest. Ian had arranged matters so she could remain the 'good guy' with Corporate Edges. It wasn't her fault her 'partner' was demanding the money.
God, he'd been clever—all for her sake.
Maggie rubbed a hand over her face. She felt like she was sinking beneath the emotion cresting inside her. Was loving a man who would do this wrong or sick? Was it even confusing?
Oh, hardly. A woman would have to be crazy not to love a man who wanted to help and support her. All right, Ian hadn't asked, he hadn't discussed what he was going to do with her, and Maggie would have a big long talk with him about that, but...his goal had been to build her up, not tear her down.
Ian was no domineering bully. He was strong and strong-willed, no doubt about it—and that was definitely part of what she loved about him.
All right, he'd committed the sin of asking her to marry him, but now she wondered. Maybe his impulse had not been to dominate or own her. Maybe to him, marriage was about what he'd done here: support. Mutual support. What had he said? He'd wanted Maggie "nailed down." He hadn't meant ownership. He'd meant that he needed her. For heaven's sake, he'd even said so straight out.
His goal had been for her to admit she needed him, too, so that he could know she'd always be there.
Maggie whirled. She felt like she wanted to come out of her skin. The realization was so huge, so overwhelming. Ian was good for her. Good. Loving him was natural and healthy, not sick. Letting him "interfere" in her life would be an addition, not a subtraction.
When Maggie thought about it, she didn't act like either her mother or her father when she was with Ian: neither submissive nor bullying. She acted like herself, her best self.
Oh, they'd have their disagreements, such as his high-handed behavior here. Of course they would. They were two strong-minded people. But that was okay. That would be fine, because the bottom line was that Ian was on her side.
Maggie drew in a deep breath and stalked out to get some fresh air. She stared out at the nursery unseeingly. She loved Ian, and that was good. Being with him, bonded with him, the way she secretly wanted to be, would be a good thing, a growing thing, a wonderful thing. Once they had their little talk about his letter to Alana—
Maggie looked out on her spattering of customers and the green, growing plants and Kathy still chatting with the elderly man. The smile that had been spreading over her face froze. What talk? She and Ian weren't on speaking terms. She'd harshly scorned having any kind of bond with him. Still ringing in her ears were all the hateful words she'd thrown at him, so desperate had she been to avoid any such evil fate.
As Maggie watched, the elderly man solemnly shook hands with Kathy, which made Kathy turn aside, grinning. Maggie felt a horrible lead ball drop in her stomach. Loving Ian had been a good and healthy thing, but she'd ruined it, screwed it up, burned her bridges.
The idea tolled dully in Maggie's brain for the rest of the afternoon. Not even receiving her check from Corporate Edges by special messenger made up for it. Ian had asked her to marry him, and she'd thrown his offer—and the vulnerability it symbolized—in his face.
To make matters worse, the telephone rang as soon Maggie and Kathy came through Maggie's front door that evening.
"Bet that's my dad," Kathy announced and looked, for some reason, at Maggie.
"Uh, then why don't you get it?" No way Maggie wanted to get on the phone with Ian after everything she'd figured out today.
"Just like you made me get it last night, too?" Kathy crossed her arms over her chest. "Why is that?"
Maggie opened her mouth, but was unable to answer.
The phone rang again. "Huh?" Kathy demanded.
They stood there, Maggie and her niece, staring at each other while the phone rang once more and then the answering machine took over. A generic robot voice instructed the caller to please leave a message at the tone.
Ian's voice followed, seeming to fill the small house. "Uh, hi." He paused, as if not wanting to expose himself too much, knowing Maggie would eventually listen to the message. "Right. Just calling to check in with Kathy, but I guess you all are out having fun somewhere." Was Maggie crazy, or did he sound miffed by this supposition? No, because after another pause he was big enough to say, "That's great. But give me a call, Kath, when you get in, okay?" Another pause. "Bye."
Maggie swallowed as a click marked the end of the connection. All in all, he'd sounded detached, distant...gone.
Kathy lifted her eyebrows. "Satisfied?"
Maggie blinked at her. "Excuse me?"
"Are you satisfied that you didn't have to talk to him?"
"Um, well..." Maggie stood up straight. "Yeah."
Kathy sighed. "What, exactly, did he do?"
Maggie raised her eyebrows. "Excuse me?"
"What did my dad do to piss you off so much?"
Maggie put on her best expression of adult hauteur. "I have no idea what you're talking about."
Snorting, Kathy said, "He asked you to marry him, didn't he?"
Maggie spluttered. "How did you know?"
Kathy rolled her eyes. "Only because you always break up with a guy after he asks you to marry him."
"Oh." Maggie couldn't very well deny the habit, but that Kathy should have noticed...
"That's bad." Kathy shook her head as if she were a teacher who'd just reviewed a poor test paper. "Really not cool of him."
Maggie blinked at the girl. "You're blaming your dad?"
"Well, yeah. Didn't he know how you felt about marriage? Couldn't he have been the least bit...clever about it?"
"Clever?" Maggie asked.
"Never mind." Kathy waved an arm
. "Let's say he retracted his unfortunate proposal? Would that fix things for you?"
Maggie stared at the girl. "Would it fix things for me?"
"Right."
Maggie shook her head. "Why are you assuming I'm the one who has to be made happy?"
Kathy looked at her like she was an idiot. "You're the one who broke things off."
"Well, yes, but..." Maggie felt a sudden leap in her discomfort with the conversation.
"If you're the one who broke things off," Kathy went on, logical, "then you're the one who has to be made happy so you'll put them back together again."
"I'm afraid it's—more complicated than that."
"It is?"
"Yes. See, I broke things off, but in the process I...said things that would have made your father want to break things off if I hadn't already done so." Terrible things, spoken in panic and now that she'd thought it over calmly, possibly not true.
Kathy was beginning to look confused. "So you're saying it's now my dad who has to be made happy."
"Exactly."
"In other words, you're happy. That is, you'd be happy to get back together."
Maggie closed her eyes. She thought of Ian writing that letter to Alana, of all the times he'd sparked and stimulated her, and always, always, when she came right down to it, made her feel important. "Yes," she told Kathy. "I'd like to get back together."
When she opened her eyes again, Kathy's head was tilted. "So go and make Dad happy with you again."
Maggie laughed. "If only it were that easy."
Kathy's brow furrowed. "Isn't it?"
Maggie shook her head. "I said some awful things." Accused him of having made Sophia unhappy. While Sophia had definitely been controlled by Ian, she'd never exhibited the slightest unhappiness with him. "They were terrible things. There's absolutely nothing I can do."
Kathy looked at Maggie with a kind of horrified confusion. Meanwhile, Maggie could hear her own words ringing in her ears. She'd behaved badly and there was nothing she could do?
There was damn well something she could do, something she ought to do—if she had the integrity.
And the guts.
Maggie bit her lower lip. "I know what you're thinking."
"You do?"
Maggie nodded slowly. "You're thinking I may be a complete and total hypocrite, that I don't even believe all the stuff I've ever told you."
That'll Be the Day Page 27