Secrets Unveiled

by Mary Manners

  “I’m not opposed to doing a bit of begging if I have to,” Grant added.

  “Though I’d take great pleasure in that,”—Maggie propped one hip against the door jamb and crossed her arms as she smirked—”it’s really not necessary.”

  “Whew…good.” Grant raked the back of his hand across his forehead as he drew a breath. “That’s a relief.”

  “Now that we’ve settled that…” Maggie blew a wisp of hair from her eyes. “Although it goes against my better judgment, I suppose I’ll invite you in.”

  Grant heaved a sigh of relief. “It must be my lucky day.”

  “Luck has nothing to do with it.” Indeed, Maggie felt led by some other force—a godly force—to allow Grant entrance into her home—and her heart—once more. Vague memories swirled as her hand went to the locket again, and she felt the smooth, cool silver between her fingers. Grant had returned the necklace to her that morning when he’d arrived at the classroom to help for the day. A trill of excitement had coursed through her as she’d placed the piece around her neck; she had yet to remove it. “Something else is at work here…something I can’t even begin to understand. Yet I cannot deny it.”

  “That sounds encouraging.”

  “Whoa there, cowboy, stay on the horse.” Maggie pressed a palm to Grant’s chest as he took a step toward her. “We’re going to take this one step at a time.”

  “I promise I won’t overstep my boundaries,” he murmured, his gaze refusing to wander from hers. Instead, he held tight to her hand as a storm of emotions swept through. “The locket looks good on you. I’d say the two of you were made for each other.”

  The two of you were made for each other…

  For some reason, those words brought back a tide of emotions. Grandma Nell had said them more than a decade ago as, just before graduation, Maggie thumbed through her yearbook. She’d come across a photo of Grant dressed in a suit and tie, posing for the camera. While Maggie smoothed her fingers over the place where Grant had penned a witty note, Grandma Nell had nestled in beside her.

  “Beneath all that hair and the off-the-cuff attitude lurks a nice young man,” she’d murmured. “It sounds a little crazy but I have to say, Maggie, that from where I’m standing it seems the two of you were made for each other.”

  A rush of warmth coursed through Maggie at the memory of those unexpected words. At the time, they seemed more off-course than a jet bound for New York ending up in Hawaii. And now…What, exactly, was happening here?

  Maggie untied her apron and draped it over one arm. “Thanks. I’m sort of partial to the locket, as well. It’s good to have it back where it belongs. Grandma Nell would be happy.”

  That was the truth. Maggie could almost see Gran smiling from Heaven. Did Grant suspect her good and generous deed—the scholarship that had helped him achieve the success he now enjoyed?

  “That’s nice to know. I’m sorry it took so long. I really didn’t know it was still in the jeans. I’m not sure how I forgot, but I did. You have to believe—”

  “I believe you.” Maggie cut him off with one swift nod. “I do.” She stepped back, affording Grant entry. “Come in. I was just making some cookies to share with the class tomorrow. It’s National Dessert Day, you know.”

  “No, I didn’t know that.” Grant stepped over the threshold and wiped his feet on the throw rug just inside the doorway.

  “Chocolate chip cookies make a great treat for kids…especially after cafeteria lunch. The cherubs are sure to love them.”

  “Of course they will.” Grant followed her through the living room and into the kitchen as he sniffed the air, obviously enjoying the chocolaty-sweet aroma. “But just to be sure, I’ll volunteer to taste-test, if you’d like.”

  Maggie managed a wisp of a grin. Grant was doing a good job chipping away at the polar ice caps that encased her heart. And the flowers he’d sent to her a few days ago still bloomed merrily from their sunflower-yellow vase in the center of the kitchen table, reminding her of his unexpected, kind gesture. Should she focus on his actions from years ago or those she’d experienced just recently?

  Maggie struggled to remember that she was still put-out…beyond put-out, truth-be-told. She reminded herself that he’d breached her trust, kissed her while he kept such a terrible secret, and that was a deal-breaker in Maggie’s book. “So you want to be a guinea pig, huh?”

  “If that’s what it takes.”

  “Sounds good to me.” Maggie told herself once more that he’d stolen from Grandma Nell—from her family. She revisited that fact as she fished a spatula from the drawer to the right of the stove and used it to lift a cookie from the pan. She placed the sweet confection on a napkin before handing it to Grant. “Here you go.”

  “Thanks.”

  “You’re welcome. I suppose you expect a glass of milk to wash that down with.” It was a statement, not a question. Pouring him a tall glass of the white stuff was no problem since she had two full gallons stashed in the fridge. She’d cart the pair to school tomorrow along with the cookies and a package of paper cups. “Is that right?”

  “Sure, if you’re offering.”

  “I am.” Maggie opened the fridge and hefted out a gallon. She filled a glass to the brim and handed it to Grant. The motion brought back another memory of a time they’d waited in the cafeteria line together in the fall of their junior year of high school. A trio of football players was lobbing an apple back and forth like a football when one of them slammed into her. Her lunch tray launched from her hands, and vegetable soup splattered down the front of her shirt to drip onto the floor while her grilled cheese sandwich smeared a streak of grease across the tile. In shock as the hot soup broth scalded her skin, she waited for an apology. What she got instead was an eruption of laughter from the goon-headed jocks.

  At least until Grant stepped in from behind to shield her from derisive amusement. He handed her a wad of napkins before crouching to retrieve the spoiled tray. When he rose, the glare in his eyes might have turned solid steel to boiling liquid as he turned on the trio of guffawing idiots.

  “It’s in your best interest to mute your laughter before I rip it from your throat.” His voice was a low, menacing growl. “Take a hike—and I mean, now.”

  Stunned by his swift and sudden reaction, the players, like a shifting current, each took a huge step back. The tallest of the three nodded.

  “Sorry, man.”

  “You’d better be. You owe Maggie a shirt. You’ve ruined the one she’s wearing and that’s not OK…no, not at all.”

  Another—the guy named Beast from his tackles on the football field—raised splayed hands of surrender as he spoke. “Like I said…we’re sorry.”

  “Cash will work…cold, hard bills. Bring them to Maggie first thing tomorrow; leave the smart-aleck comments at home.”

  “Sure, right. No problem.” And, just like that, the three retreated. The next morning Maggie found an envelope stuffed with thirty dollars crammed through the vent of her locker. That amount proved more than enough to pay for a new scoop-necked tee, so she’d offered to use what was left to buy Grant a chocolate shake at the local Sonic.

  He’d declined the offer. “Just because I helped you doesn’t mean we’re friends…I mean, friends like that. Don’t get any ideas, Maggie.”

  So she’d stuffed those ideas away and gone for a shake without him. Even so, his actions had gouged a divot from her heart.

  Later, when Maggie related the incident to Grandma Nell, she’d simply replied, “Give that boy time, and he’ll figure things out soon enough. He’s got eyes for you…I know. The two of you are meant for each other.”

  Were they?

  Maggie studied Grant furtively as he made short work of the cookie. He swallowed before licking the crumbs from his fingers and then wiped his hands with the napkin. “For the record, that masterpiece of a chocolate chip dessert you baked gets my most enthusiastic stamp of approval. If you ever consider abandoning your teaching career, I�
��d go for opening a bake shop.”

  “I have no intention of doing anything career-wise other than teaching.”

  “I’m glad to hear it. Gemma needs you in the classroom.”

  “I’m sorry we…had words in front of her yesterday. That was wrong, Grant, and unprofessional.” Maggie captured her lower lip between her teeth and bit down hard for a moment. The fact that she’d snapped, however mildly, troubled her more than anything. “I pride myself on being patient and professional around the kids, and I really dropped the ball.”

  “It takes two.” Grant reached for her hand. “It was my fault. I take full responsibility for driving you to the edge. I let you down in the worst way, and I don’t blame you for being upset about all of it.”

  “To make matters worse, today you came to help and I acted like an oaf. What will the kids think? I should have—”

  “They think you have feelings like the rest of us.” Grant motioned to the baking pan. “And you should give me another cookie, that’s what you should do.”

  “You’re changing the subject but OK, I’ll give you one more…just to be sure.” Maggie lifted another cookie from the pan and handed it to him. “A second opinion can’t hurt.”

  “Does this mean you’re not mad anymore?”

  “I’d say I’ve gone from an arctic blast to a cold snap.” Maggie propped one hip against the counter and turned to face him head-on. “And I’m trying my best to figure out what you’re doing here, Grant. What, exactly, do you want?”

  “I thought we were discussing that.” He slanted a look over the rim of the milk glass. “I want you to stop hating me.”

  “I don’t hate you.” Maggie shook her head emphatically. “That’s an ugly word, Grant, and I don’t like it at all. So, I don’t hate you. I simply carry a strong dislike for you…at the moment.”

  “Any chance of those frigid winds shifting anytime soon?”

  “Don’t count on it.” Maggie shook her head. “You broke my heart, Grant. You lied to me and it hurt me—a lot.”

  “I didn’t lie.”

  “OK, you didn’t exactly lie. But omitting the facts is just as bad.”

  “Then I suppose I’m guilty as charged. I’m sorry, Maggie.” Grant lifted a hand to her cheek, but Maggie backed away before he made contact. “I’m not sure what more I can possibly say to make things right again.”

  “Because there’s nothing more to say.” She turned toward the counter and reached for the mixing bowl that held a second batch of cookie batter. One by one, she began to plop rounded scoops onto a greased pan. “Things were never right between us in the first place.”

  “You’re wrong about that.”

  “Am I?”

  “I felt something strong the first time I saw you again…when I brought Gemma to school last month. I know you did, too. Can you deny that?”

  “I…” She avoided eye contact as her voice faltered. “I…made a mistake. I let you kiss me.”

  “You kissed me back.”

  “Like I said…it was a terrible mistake.”

  “Ouch, well, that smarts.” Grant rubbed a palm across his forehead as he grimaced. “Don’t hold back, Mag…let it all out.”

  “In case you haven’t noticed, I am.”

  “Yes, I caught that memo loud and clear.”

  “Good.”

  “Look, your feelings for me—and mine for you—are the farthest thing from a mistake, Maggie, and I’m not sorry it happened.” Grant eased into her and his breath curled warm against the nape of her neck. “I’ll never be sorry we’ve…shared a kiss or two, and you shouldn’t regret it, either. It was real…perfect.”

  “You should go now.” She dropped the spoon and turned away from him, pressing her palms to the counter as she struggled for balance. “I have too much work to do to continue this conversation. There’s another batch of cookies to bake and papers to grade.”

  “In a minute. Those things can wait just a minute or two.” Grant’s hands cupped her shoulders, turning her gently. “Look at me, Maggie…please.”

  Slowly, she acquiesced, turning back him. Her lips trembled as she formed a single word. “What?”

  As Grant leaned in, chocolate mingled with aftershave. It was the most delicious scent Maggie had ever experienced. His breath caressed her cheek like a whisper, making her skin tingle. “Just this…”

  The kiss was light and oh, so gentle…merely a brush of his lips against hers, but the effect was electric. Maggie’s knees turned to gelatin as her pulse raced.

  “Grant…” Maggie wasn’t sure whether the single word was a warning or a plea. Before she could figure it out, Grant released her and stepped back, putting distance between them once again.

  “Ok, I’ll go now,” he murmured. “But--I’m the one who made a mistake. There’s no denying I did an awful, reckless, and selfish thing when I broke into your grandmother’s house and took that locket. But it happened a long time ago, when I was young and stupid. I can’t take back what I did, but I’ve learned to move forward. I’ve made my peace with God, and I’d like to make my peace with you, as well, Maggie, because I care about you more than I have a right to. I can’t help it…It is what it is, and I’m not at all sorry for that.”

  “You shouldn’t care for me, Grant. It’s a hopeless situation.”

  “Nothing is truly hopeless…us included. I should have told you as soon as I realized the locket belonged to you, but I was scared of your reaction, and I wanted the chance for you to know me as I am now—not the way I once was. But you’ve judged me, Maggie, and denied my apology. Maybe I deserve that and maybe I don’t. But believe me, right now I’m hurting as much as you are.”

  “I’ve heard you, Grant…” Tears stung Maggie’s eyes. Now, the weight of Grandma Nell’s secret weighed heavily on her heart. Should she reveal who had helped him when his father turned his back? Oh, it was such a mess. Despite whatever happened between them, their lives would now be forever intertwined. “I’ve heard—and felt—every word that you’ve said.” She touched her lips as a tingle continued to dance over the tender skin. “But I need time to process all of this, so go. Please, just go.”

  “That’s fair enough. There’s just one more thing.” He placed a hand on her shoulder and drew her ever-so-gently back to face him. “I don’t know how you do it, Maggie, day-in and day-out with the kids in your class. All that energy…the personalities...you’re nothing less than amazing. I was exhausted after one day in the classroom, but you…” He shook his head. “Working with the kids—igniting their curiosity—is truly a God-given talent that you’ve been blessed with. I’m glad I got to share at least a day or two with you. I hope there’ll be more. God-willing, I’d like there to be more.”

  “God might be willing, Grant, but my heart…it’s not.”

  “We’ll see, Maggie…we’ll just wait and see about that.”

  9

  The tide had turned.

  Somewhere and somehow, over the past forty-eight hours or so, Maggie was drawn from the calm, low-water current of her non-adventurous life into a raging riptide of emotion. She was drowning fast—drowning in her feelings for Grant. But she couldn’t…she shouldn’t allow the rapids to take her under.

  The praise team’s music drifted softly as the church service prepared to start. Though the sanctuary had quickly filled to near-capacity, Maggie had lingered so deep in prayer that she’d remained oblivious to the people around her. Now, she turned her attention toward the front of the church—toward the cross—and drew a deep breath as she reminded herself that despite all that had transpired, God was still in control.

  “Hi, Miss Andrews.”

  Maggie lifted her head to find Gemma poised at her side, clothed in a yellow polka-dotted dress and wearing a pair of black patent-leather shoes with lace-cuffed socks. Her corkscrew curls were pinned back with a bright yellow bow, yet the ringlets still managed to spring in a halo about her head. The fiery strands seemed to glow as sunlight streaming
through the stained-glass windows washed over them. “Hi, Gemma. How are you today?”

  “Fine.” She held a small box of crayons and a Bible coloring book that the children’s department set out each Sunday morning for the kids in attendance. “Can we sit here with you?”

  “We?”

  “Uh huh…me and Uncle Grant.”

  Maggie followed Gemma’s hand gesture to find Grant a few steps down the aisle. The sight of him in pressed khaki’s and a navy polo took her breath away. For a moment, she forgot they were at odds. She swallowed hard and slid farther down the bench. “Sure, honey. I’ll scoot over a bit.”

  Gemma snuggled in beside her, hip to hip, as Grant paused in the aisle way. His gaze was shadowed with questions, his eyes weary, and Maggie wondered if his nights had been as restless as hers. “Are you sure?”

  “Yes.” Maggie nodded slightly and patted the wooden bench. Her heart stung for the pain she and Grant had caused one another. Though she knew their words and deeds could never be retracted, she wished, with all her soul, that the hurt might somehow be washed away. She lifted her gaze to connect with Grant’s “Where’s Cara?”

  “She’s on call this weekend, and she just got paged to the ER as she was on her way here with us. There’s been a four-car pile-up on I-40 West. No firm details yet, but she was summoned just in case so she dropped us off and went.”

  “Oh my goodness…” Maggie pressed a hand to her mouth and paused for a moment as she considered that someone—or two or three—was seriously hurt. No matter how many times she heard of accidents along that stretch of the interstate, the news never became run-of-the-mill. She knew a crash might mean a child lost a parent…a husband his wife. “I hope everyone is OK.”

  “Me, too.” Grant slid into the bench at Gemma’s other side and leaned back, folding one leg over the other. “I added the accident to the prayer requests as we came in.”