by Gamet, Amy
Liam couldn’t look at a tree or a candy cane without feeling the crush of longing and regret. They were gone, his wife and his little girl, and they were not coming back. His shovel scraped the pavement, the rhythm of the sound marching forward like time itself.
He was worse today than usual, having dreamed about Meghan last night. His unconscious mind held no grudges against his traitorous wife, remembering only the tangle of their bodies, the fevered pitch of their lovemaking, the touch of her soul against his own.
The dream had left him aching, desperate and angry, knowing full well that no other woman could satisfy this desire. He stopped shoveling and straightened his back, allowing his tightened muscles to stretch. A full moon graced the night sky, illuminating the world below.
“Damn you, Meghan O’Connor. Damn you straight to hell.”
~~~
Meghan stopped for gas just outside of Stockbridge, the snow-covered ground reflecting the bright winter sun. She was close enough to Largo that the landscape reminded her of home, the Berkshires rising up from all sides like great, wholly arms. She followed the sign for gas from the interstate, up a meandering hill that was oddly familiar. It wasn't until she pulled in front of The Galaxy Diner and Gas Station that her mind snapped to attention.
She and Liam had stopped here the night they left Largo.
Suddenly, she missed him so acutely that she moaned aloud, her lips curling into a frown. Her heart was prone to forgetting that she didn’t love her husband anymore.
She shook her head and sat up straighter in her seat, turning the wheel to pull up to the pump. She opened her door just as a man in a heavy winter coat bent his head to her window.
“What can I get for ya?” he asked.
“Fill it up with regular, please.”
Meghan's gaze fixed at a point in the distance, the memory of her last day in Largo coming to life before her eyes.
It was glorious and sunny, the summer air humid and still. Becky had lied for Meghan, telling their parents they were going to the park, when really the girls met Liam at Hunter’s Point—a wide, grassy field where the creek ran shallow over a rocky bed.
Liam taught Becky how to catch crayfish in the cold water, while Meghan lounged on a boulder, soaking up the sun. When Becky climbed a tree across the creek, Liam joined Meghan.
“How was work?” she asked him.
He skipped a rock into the rushing creek. “Not so good.” He picked up another handful of rocks. “I got fired.”
She sat up, shading her eyes from the sun. “Why?”
“The police found my pocketknife at the old mill,” said Liam. “Officer Spaulding must have mentioned it to his wife, because she remembered I used it to open a crate of pears for her right at the end of my shift that day. They can prove I was there, Meghan.”
“Lots of people go to the old mill. That doesn’t mean anything.”
Liam nodded, throwing more rocks. “After Grimley fired me, I walked out to the parking lot and Spaulding was waiting for me. He took me to the stationhouse for questioning.”
“All because of a pocketknife?”
“No.” He stopped throwing rocks and turned to look at her. “Ricky Powell told Spaulding he saw me that night, walking down Main Street with a gas can.”
Fear seeped into Meghan’s brain, knowing that an accusation like that could mean serious trouble for Liam. “But that’s a lie. Why would he say that?”
Even as she said the words, she knew.
Ricky had been asking Meghan out for years, but recently he'd grown more insistent, calling on the phone, walking too close to her in the hallway. He even left a letter in her school bag, telling her she was beautiful.
Liam threw the last of his rocks and put his hands in the pockets of his shorts. “He wants you to himself, Meghan. He was standing right there when I showed up for work and Grimley fired me, like he wanted me to know he had something to do with it.”
“I’ll tell Sheriff Spaulding you were with me.”
He shook his head. “That will just ruin your reputation. I was still there when you left, remember?”
She reached out and laid her hand on his arm. “Then I’ll lie.”
He smiled a humorless smile. “It’s not going to come to that.”
“What do you mean?”
“If they arrest me, ain’t nobody in this town going to give a Wheaton a fair trial.”
She wanted to tell him he was wrong. She wanted to hold him forever, keep him safe from the people who couldn't see what she saw every time she looked into his eyes.
“I'm leaving town, Meghan.”
Her face fell. “No!”
“Yes. Tomorrow,” he swallowed, turning to look into her eyes. “Don’t you see? I don’t have another choice. I lost my job, Ricky’s out to get me, and the sheriff’s just biding his time before he arrests me. I need a fresh start. Someplace I can just be me, not Chip Wheaton’s son.”
“Then I'm coming with you.”
“No,” he said, shaking his head, and she thought she could see an extra shine in his eyes. “Your family and your life are here. I'm not going to let you give that up for me.”
She reached out and touched his face. “You are my family and my life now, Liam. I'm pregnant.”
His shocked expression held something else—a spark of wonder, a touch of joy. “What?”
“Pregnant,” she said softly.
He pulled her against him in a fierce embrace.
“So now you have to take me with you,” she whispered.
He pulled back to look at her. “You're not just saying that so I'll take you?”
She shook her head. “I found out on Tuesday, I just didn't know how to tell you.”
“A baby...” he said, tears now clearly visible along his lashes. “I love you, Meghan O’Connor.”
“I love you, too, Liam.”
A sharp rap at her window made her jump, and Meghan fumbled for her purse. “Ancient history,” she said to herself. That was fifteen years earlier. She didn’t even recognize the naïve girl she had been. She drove down the hill and got back on the interstate toward Largo, less than an hour away from her parents’ house.
~~~
Becky O'Connor went all-out at Christmastime.
Her 1920s bungalow was covered in fat colored lights, their strands wound around the posts of her chunky front porch like gumdrops on a gingerbread house. The living room window showcased a glorious evergreen, the lawn graced with miniature Christmas trees that followed the meandering path of the walkway.
Inside, the smell of spicy chili permeated the air, along with the tang of wood smoke from a fire in the hearth. The table was set with fancy dishes and cloth napkins in preparation for the meal to come.
Becky opened a bottle of wine as she sang along to “Rockin’ Around the Christmas Tree”. Her long red hair hung in two thick plaits on either side of her head, like a child. She wore a T-shirt that said “In your dreams” and a pair of jeans that hugged her feminine curves. Her feet were bare, her toenails painted bright pink.
Her parents’ flight should have gotten in almost an hour ago. Tom and Patty O'Connor bought a place in Florida when they retired, and they lived there most of the year. They returned to Massachusetts for the holidays and the high summer months, but didn't bother to open their house for the shorter of the two trips. Becky's home was the new home base for Christmas, and she loved every minute of it.
She’d just gotten back in town the day before, having spent several days in New York City for her best friend Julie’s wedding. Julie married Hank Jared, who she met last Christmas when he was a Navy officer investigating Julie’s father’s murder—or so it had seemed at the time. The wedding had been spectacular—a holiday themed wedding that included the entire bridal party ice skating in Central Park.
Wandering into the front room, Becky danced and twirled, her braids swinging from side to side as she remembered the DJ playing this same song at the wedding. She had danced with a handsome g
roomsman named Pete, one of two she flirted with throughout the reception.
Meghan stood on the other side of Becky’s front window in an icy wind, tiny shards of freezing rain pelting her as she watched her baby sister, all grown up and beautiful, dancing.
It had taken Meghan forty-five minutes to get the courage to step out of her car, just as Becky appeared in the large picture window and stopped Meghan in her tracks.
Little sobs mixed with laughter as she watched Becky dance, making Meghan’s nose run and sniff. Her gut ached for every time she had missed Becky, the price of her exile never before so plain.
She might have stayed there on the sidewalk all night, but a car turned down the residential street, it’s headlights prodding her toward the door. She reached up and knocked before she could think better of it.
The high-pitched barking of a little dog cold be heard before the door opened and Becky appeared, her prominent green eyes widening at the apparition before her.
“Hi, Monkey.” Meghan said softly. She knew she was a mess, her eyes red and teary. She hadn’t meant to use the old endearment, but the word wanted to be said more than she cared to keep it inside.
Becky slapped her hand over her mouth. “Meghan!” she screeched, opening her arms and pulling her sister to her. Then they were both crying, clutching each other.
“It’s freezing out here!” said Becky, flashing Meghan a brilliant smile. “Come in, come in.” The women hugged for long moments before finally stepping back.
“I tried Mom and Dad’s house first, but no one was home,” Meghan said. “Do they still live on Becker?”
“Well…”
A knock sounded at the door.
“Oh, my God, that’s perfect,” said Becky with a smile. “Open the door, Meggie.”
Meghan was confused, but she did as Becky asked. There on the porch stood her mom and dad.
There was screaming and grabbing, holding and hugging as the world before Meghan blurred into a swirl of emotion. She heard her own sobbing as she rested her head on her mother’s shoulder, Patty’s scent exactly the same as Meghan remembered from countless hugs and kisses growing up.
Her father stepped back, catching his breath and wiping at his face. “I’ve been praying for this day for fifteen years.”
“I’m sorry,” wailed Meghan, sounding to herself like a younger version of the woman she’d become. “I wanted to come home for so long.”
“Where have you been?” asked Patty. “I was worried sick.”
Becky handed Meghan a glass of red wine, and she took a sip, its rich smoky flavor mixing with her nervous stomach to make her nauseated. Suddenly, she was so scared, she wished she could disappear in a puff of smoke like a magic trick.
Sorry, just kidding. I'm not really back after all.
Could her family understand the fears of a sixteen year-old child and forgive her for running off with Liam? Could they love their granddaughter, who was Chip Wheaton's granddaughter, too?
Her father spoke, his voice deeper now than she remembered. “Don’t you know, there’s nothing you can ever do that will make us stop loving you?”
A mother now herself, Meghan knew her father spoke the truth. She took a deep breath. “I left with Liam. I was pregnant, and he was about to be arrested for setting the fire at the old mill.”
Her mother nodded, her eyes shining and bright. “And the baby?”
She's not even surprised!
Remorse was bitter on Meghan’s tongue. “Fiona is fifteen.”
“Is she here with you?” Patty's hopeful eyes darted to the living room doorway, and the look of longing on her face was more than Meghan could bear.
“No. She's staying with a friend.”
Patty’s eyes were bright. “I'd like to meet her.”
Meghan nodded, staring at her mother, wishing for forgiveness but too afraid to ask. “Fiona's the reason I came back here today.” She couldn’t stop the tears, didn’t try to. “She has leukemia, mom,” she said, the words stumbling over the knot in her throat. “She needs a bone marrow transplant.”
Patty held her hand to her heart. “Does Liam know?”
That surprised her. “No. I haven't talked to Liam in eight years. I don't even know where he is.”
Her family exchanged knowing glances.
“What?” asked Meghan.
“He's in Largo,” said Becky.
“What?”
“He came back my freshman year, so that was...” Becky looked at the ceiling, “...eight years ago.”
Meghan was flabbergasted. Of all the places in the world, she never imagined Liam would come back to Largo. “He's been here the whole time?” she asked. “But the sheriff was going to arrest him for the fire at the old mill.”
Becky nodded. “He was arrested. And convicted.”
“Convicted?”
Patty nodded. “He served three and a half years in prison, Meggie. He's been living in Largo since his release.”
~~~
2004
Liam and Meghan lived in a two-bedroom apartment on the second floor of a complex, with an outdoor landing Meghan had covered in Christmas lights. The building was dated, but the grounds were well maintained and the living space generous.
Liam stepped into the kitchen and kissed his wife on the cheek. “Have a great day, Meggie. I love you.”
He smelled like aftershave and soap, and she licked her lips. “You too, baby,” she answered him, as she buttered Fiona’s toast. “Good luck with Flanders.”
“Luck’s got nothing to do with it,” he said with a wink. He was an outstanding salesman, and she was proud of him.
He picked up little Fiona from her coloring at the table and hugged her tightly, her red curls peeking out from beneath a big red Santa hat. “Goodbye, little mouse.”
“Can you stay and make Christmas cookies with us, Daddy?”
“I can’t, sweetheart. Daddy has to go to work.” He rubbed his nose against hers. “I'm going to be late tonight.”
“Again?” Meghan asked, handing Fiona her breakfast. Several nights in the last few weeks, he’d gotten home after she’d gone to bed.
Liam shrugged. “It just so happens, I’m working on a very special Christmas gift.”
“Oh, really?” she asked, digging in the cupboard, trying to remember what she'd been looking for. “How hard is it to find a jewelry store?”
“Oh, no, no, no. Not for my wife. I’m getting her something from the heart.”
“Cheapskate,” she said, laughing.
“Materialistic Scrooge.” He poked her with his finger. “I’m getting you the greatest gift you’ve ever gotten in your whole entire life.”
“Wow, that’s a lot of hype. What if I don’t like it?”
“Sorry, all items are sold as-is, no refunds or exchanges.”
She smiled at him. “I love you.”
“I love you, too.” He checked his watch. “I’ve got to run. Have a great day!”
Meghan watched the door close behind him, thinking she was the luckiest woman on earth. Christmas was the hardest time of year for her, and Liam was always trying to make it better.
No matter how hard she tried to stop it, she could feel herself retreating into her shell, so sad over missing her family during the holidays. Every year it was a little more difficult, lasting longer into the new year before she was able to find some relief.
She didn't regret choosing Liam when she had to make the choice, but the price that she paid only compounded over time, increasing the burden on her conscience and her wellbeing. For the last two weeks, she couldn't seem to stop crying.
She bustled around the kitchen, grabbing her own breakfast dishes and putting them in the dishwasher, keeping her face averted from her daughter to hide her tears. She didn’t want Fiona’s memories of Christmas to be affected by her own depression.
The doorbell rang.
“I'll get it!” Fiona yelled, bouncing out of her seat. Meghan followed her, taking
time to wipe her face and eyes. She walked into the living room just as Fiona opened the door—to Ricky Powell, standing on the threshold.
“No!” Meghan yelled, running to pull the girl back as if from the edge of a cliff. She put herself between Fiona and Ricky.
He held up his hands. “I just want to talk to you.”
Adrenaline surging, she snapped at him. “No. You get the hell away from me, Ricky. You stay away from my home.” Her arm flung the wooden door with all of her strength, only to watch Ricky easily stop it with his hand.
“It’s important, Meghan. Look, I’ll stand right here. I won’t even come in.”
She looked down at her daughter, who clung to her waist.
“I won’t hurt you,” he said.
Despite her anxiety, she believed that was true. Ricky had never threatened her.
Meghan pried the girl's arms from around her waist and talked in a calm voice. “Fiona, I need to talk to this man.”
The girl shook her head.
“It's okay, he's an old friend of mine. I was just surprised to see him. Can you please go to your room and play for a little while?”
Fiona glared at her mother, then at the stranger, shaking her head no.
“Yes. Go to your room, please.”
“I want Mommy.”
“It's okay, Fiona. Go now.”
The girl begrudgingly left the room, and Meghan crossed her arms over her chest, facing Ricky. “How did you find us?”
“I followed Liam here from Largo yesterday.”
Liam would sooner drive through hell. “That’s a lie.” She reached for the door.
“Call his work,” said Ricky. “They'll tell you he wasn't there. He was stopped next to me at the intersection of Washington and Church. He didn't see me, but I got a good look at him. It seemed fishy that he’d be back in town just two days after someone tried to burn down the Super Duper, so I followed him.”
“Someone tried to burn down the grocery store?”
He nodded. “Fortunately, they had a sprinkler system. But the damages are in the tens of thousands.”
“I don’t see what that has to do with us.”
He reached in his pocket, pulling out a cell phone with a large display and tapping buttons while he spoke.