Some Enchanted Season

by Marilyn Pappano

  “Human beings have a tremendous capacity for forgiveness. As flawed as they are, they need it.” Her smile appeared, then disappeared. “Nothing’s unforgivable, Ross, especially for someone who truly loves you. Like Maggie.”

  “What I did was,” he insisted, but she made a dismissive gesture.

  “Two weekends. Three encounters. Bad judgment, immoral, certainly wrong, but not worthy of sacrificing the rest of your lives together—all the happiness, all the love, all the babies. And that’s what you’re doing, Ross. You’re risking your future. You’re just waiting for it to blow up in your face.”

  “What—how did you—” Suspicion tightened his muscles. “Who are you?”

  “Just someone trying to be a friend.”

  “How did you know—”

  She laid her hand on his arm. “Your affair was wrong, Ross. It was a terrible mistake, and you’ve all paid the price. Last year your marriage wasn’t strong enough to survive. Is it strong enough now?”

  The answer was too painful to give aloud. Instead, he simply, bleakly shook his head.

  “Are you sure?”

  “I lied to her. I betrayed her. How could she forgive that?”

  “What if the situation were reversed? If it was Maggie who’d had the affair, who’d lied to and betrayed you. Could you forgive her?”

  “There would be nothing to forgive because she would never do it.”

  “That’s what she thinks about you.”

  He knew she was right. Maggie had even said so one day over burnt burgers in the kitchen. I always knew that there would never be another woman. Which would be harder for her to hear? That there had been another woman? Or that she’d misjudged him so badly?

  “What if the unthinkable happened? What if Maggie felt lonely and empty and hungry for just a little affection in her life—affection that you’d refused her? What if she found that affection with another man and, later, you found out? Could you forgive her?”

  He would hate it like hell—would hate that another man had touched her, had kissed her, had found that incredible satisfaction with her. But could he forgive it?

  If it was a choice between forgiving or living without her, no doubt. He’d lived without her before. He would gladly forgive a dozen affairs before doing it again.

  Noelle smiled gently. “You could. You would. But, of course, you’re a kinder, more compassionate, more loving, and generous person than she is.”

  “Not in this lifetime,” he said scornfully. “Maggie is the best, sweetest, most honorable person I know.”

  “Then my guess is that she can forgive too. She’s a bright woman. Once she gets past the hurt of discovery, she’ll know what she has to do. She’ll do the right thing.”

  He stared at the gazebo, shining with white lights in the dark night, weighing the confidence in Noelle’s voice, hearing the certainty in Maggie’s.

  I love you, Ross. I want to be married to you. I want to live the rest of my life with you.

  Have a little faith in us. We’re strong. We can survive anything.

  I’ll always love you. Always.

  Having faith. Believing in her and her love. Giving her credit for knowing her feelings as well as he knew his own. Could he do it?

  Did he have any choice?

  Noelle stood up. “You’d better go home. I imagine Maggie’s wondering where you’ve gone.”

  He stood up, too, and took a few steps before turning back. “How did you know …?”

  With a smile, she shook her finger warningly. “A little faith, Mr. McKinney.”

  When she offered her hand, he accepted it, clasping it between both of his. “Thank you. I needed—”

  “I know. Go on now. And have a merry Christmas.”

  He’d taken only a few more steps, when she spoke again. “I wasn’t kidding about the rest of your lives—the happiness, the love, the babies. Bringing a longed-for babe into a loving home is never selfish, Ross. Maggie will be a wonderful mother, and in spite of your fears, in spite of your father, you’ll be a wonderful father. Your sons and daughters, along with Maggie, will be the brightest blessings in your life.”

  Ross stared at her. For one odd moment when she’d spoken—the brightest blessings—it seemed as if the night had lightened around him. Maybe it had been the burden around his heart that had lightened, because when she said he would be a good father, he’d felt the impact of truth. She believed what she’d said, and for some reason her believing allowed him to believe it too. “How—”

  She smiled sweetly, that bright, million-watt smile. “Faith,” she said with a firm nod. Raising one mittened hand, she wiggled her fingers in a wave. “Go home, Ross. Your wife is waiting.”

  He nodded. Home was exactly where he wanted to be.

  He cut across the snow to the nearest square of shoveled sidewalk, then looked back. Noelle had wasted no time leaving the park. She was already out of sight. And, oddly, from where he stood, he couldn’t see any signs of her leaving. The snow in the direction she must have gone was smooth, unmarked. A trick of the lights, he was sure, but he didn’t go back to confirm it. Instead, he pushed his hands into his pockets for warmth, then headed with long, purposeful strides down the street.

  It was Christmas Eve, and Maggie was waiting.

  Chapter Fifteen

  Maggie stood frozen on the corner, unable to see for the tears that filled her eyes, unable to breathe for the sorrow that filled her heart. It was no wonder her mind had buried last Christmas’s memories, no surprise that they’d sent her barreling up the mountain to certain disaster.

  Anything could jog her memory, the doctors had told her—a sight, a sound, a smell—and they’d been right. The sight of Ross standing there, holding that woman’s hand, hadn’t just jogged her memory. It had broken open a flood of memories. Last Christmas Eve, Ross and Jessica in intimate conversation, her hand clasped familiarly in his until Maggie walked in on them. The gift addressed to Jessica, the one that had made Ross blanch, the one that had contained a small fortune in diamonds and sapphires that matched her dark eyes perfectly. The horrible guilt on Jessica’s face, the utter blankness of Ross’s expression, the sudden realization that had struck both Maggie and Jessica’s husband, Kevin, at the same time.

  Oh, God, she couldn’t stand this! Not again, oh, please, not again!

  Whirling around, she started toward the house, walking first, then picking up speed until she was running. Her feet slipped on the snow, but she caught herself and stumbled on. Her chest grew tight, her breathing labored, but still she ran—down the street, up the steps, into the house. She slammed the door behind her, leaned against it, and the first low moan escaped.

  He’d had an affair! All these years she’d been so smug and secure in her certainty that he wasn’t that type, that he had more respect for their marriage than that, that whatever else was wrong, he was too good and decent and trustworthy to betray her in that way, and all these years she’d been wrong! Not only had he done it, but with her best friend. Her best friend!

  Damn his soul.

  The pain was killing—the grief, the betrayal. She wanted to sink to the floor, to curl up and keen. She wanted to hit something—wanted to hit him and make him suffer. She wanted to scream and rage and sob until she had no voice, no tears, no feeling, and then she wanted to die.

  He was on his way home—would be there in a few minutes, acting as if nothing had happened, as if he hadn’t committed the single most unforgivable sin in a marriage. She couldn’t face him, not yet, not while her heart was still breaking, while every part of her was agonizingly raw. She pushed away from the door and went down the hall. Last year she’d taken the time to pack her bags. Tonight all she needed was her keys, still clutched in her fist.

  She let herself out the side door, took as deep a breath as the tightness in her chest would allow. She hadn’t driven a car in a year, but she had no choice. It was the only escape available to her, and she needed escape before the emotions brok
e free of her rigid control and shattered her into a million pieces of pure sorrow.

  “Maggie?”

  Ross’s voice came from the driveway. She couldn’t look at him—at this man whom she loved so dearly, who had so thoroughly betrayed her.

  “What are you doing? Where are you going?”

  The serrated edges of the keys bit through her thin leather glove, giving her an actual physical pain to focus on. She squeezed harder as she slowly turned toward him. He looked unbearably handsome. Worried. Innocent.

  Innocent. The man who’d indulged in an affair with her very best friend in the entire world. He wasn’t innocent of anything.

  Speaking was an effort that required easing some small bit of the control that kept her intact. She half feared that when she opened her mouth, nothing would come out but screams, and once started, they wouldn’t stop until they’d consumed her. But there was no scream, no sob, not even a tiny hiccup. There were only two words—two cold, hard, damning words. “I remember.”

  He stopped a half dozen feet away and blanched. Just like last Christmas Eve. She’d been handing out the gifts, when she’d come to the elegantly wrapped box bearing the small gold foil seal of Ross’s favorite jeweler. Jessica’s name on the tag had surprised her. She never would have dreamed Kevin could afford even the least costly piece in the place.

  She’d delivered the box to her friend with a flourish. “Looks like you’ve been a very good girl,” she’d teased, but Jessica hadn’t smiled. She’d looked mortified and tried to move the gift to one side, but neither Maggie nor Kevin had let her. Open it, they’d both encouraged, and, unable to avoid it, she’d done so.

  Looking guilty as hell, she’d pulled the bracelet from the box and looked first at Maggie, then at Kevin. She’d avoided looking at Ross, but Maggie had looked and seen his own guilt. The weight of the stones had pulled the bracelet from Jessica’s numb fingers, landing on the floor with a clatter, and some part of Maggie had died.

  Just as some part of her was dying now.

  Suddenly Ross exhaled the breath he’d been holding, and his shoulders rounded. “I’m sorry, Maggie,” he murmured.

  “Sorry. Are you sorry you had the affair? Sorry you betrayed us? Sorry you damn near destroyed me? Or merely sorry you got caught?”

  “Maggie—”

  “Was she the only one?”

  “Yes.”

  “And I’m supposed to believe that? I’m supposed to take the word of a cheat and a liar?” Her words made him wince, and she felt the stab deep in her own soul, but she didn’t regret them. She wanted to wound him. “My God, she was my best friend! I loved her! And you—you did this!”

  “I’m sorry. Maggie, I’m so sorry.” He came a step closer. “I don’t know what else to say.”

  “Well, think of something, because that’s not enough!” She was trembling now, on the verge of losing control. Anger. She needed anger. Anger was strength. “I’m sorry, Ross. I’m sorry I asked you to come here. I’m sorry I didn’t divorce you the day I left the center. I’m sorry as hell that I ever knew you!”

  That hit its target too, but he denied it. “That’s not true. You love me. I love you.”

  “You have a hell of a way of showing it—sleeping with my best friend. Was that why you chose her? For maximum betrayal? Was it fun? Did you enjoy it? Did you laugh together about how incredibly stupid I was to trust you both?”

  He closed his eyes for a moment, then looked at her again with such misery. “It was the biggest mistake in my life, but I can’t undo it, Maggie. I’d give everything if I could. All I can do is tell you I love you and ask your forgiveness.”

  “Some things can’t be forgiven,” she whispered brokenly. “I think this is one.”

  Turning abruptly, she slid into the car and reached for the door. He stopped it with his hand. “Maggie, wait. You haven’t driven in so long. I’ll go. I’ll leave. You stay here.”

  “I can’t. I have to get away from here.”

  “I can’t let you go.” He reached for her arm, but she shrank away from his touch. Her action stunned him, made him still. She took advantage of the moment to jerk the door free of his grip. As soon as it closed, she locked it, then started the engine and threw it into reverse, backing into the street without looking.

  She didn’t know where she was going—just away, so far away that the pain couldn’t follow, so far that she might find a blessed numbness that would allow her to survive. Before she’d gone twenty feet, the tears started—little ones at first that she dashed away with the back of her hand. Then they came faster, harder, scalding against her cold skin, making her whole body shake.

  Wherever she was going, she knew it wouldn’t help, knew there was no place far enough away to escape this heartache. They were strong, she’d told Ross, but that was a joke. He hadn’t been strong enough to honor their vows, and this time …

  This time she wasn’t strong enough to survive.

  Minute after minute passed, and Ross remained in the same spot—unable to move, to think, to do anything but feel. He felt sore in body, heart, and soul. He never should have come to Bethlehem, never should have risked falling in love with her again—putting her through this again. She hated him, and with good reason. For whatever it was worth, he hated himself.

  Finally, when the cold had succeeded in numbing everything but the fear and the ache, he went inside the house and to the phone in the kitchen. The Walkers’ phone number was in the address book there. He dialed it and heard the sounds of a family Christmas when Mitch answered. The reminder that he was more alone and lost this Christmas than ever before added another level to his pain.

  “Hello?” Mitch repeated. “Is anyone there?”

  Ross drew a breath. “Mitch, it’s Ross McKinney.”

  “Merry Christmas. What can I do for you?”

  “I—” A year ago he wouldn’t have dreamed of making this call—would have been too proud, too protective of his damned reputation. Maybe if he had called then, there would have been no reason for some stranger living halfway up the mountain to make a later call for the sheriff and an ambulance.

  “Ross? What’s up?”

  Another breath, this one deep enough to be painful. “Maggie and I have had a—a disagreement, and she’s gone. She hasn’t driven since the accident and she’s upset, and—and I was wondering if—if you could have your people keep an eye out for her.”

  Mitch’s response was quieter, more serious. “Sure. Give me a description of the car.”

  Ross provided him with that and the license number.

  “I’ll call the dispatcher now. She’s also dispatching for the county tonight, so the sheriff’s department will get it too. As soon as we hear something, I’ll let you know.”

  “Thanks.” Ross hung up, then wandered down the hall to the front of the house. Everything seemed so normal. The lights were on. The air was still scented with the aromas of the pies Maggie had baked this evening. The carols were still playing in the living room. The presents waited under the tree.

  So normal. Except that Maggie was gone.

  When the CD segued into the first strains of “Ave Maria,” he punched the stop button with enough force to slide the stereo against the wall. He felt so damned helpless. So damned sorry.

  And sorry meant nothing to Maggie.

  His love meant nothing to her.

  He meant nothing.

  When the doorbell rang, it startled him. He didn’t for an instant hope it was Maggie. He’d lost all hope when she’d looked at him in the driveway and said, “I remember.” Lifting his gaze to the nearest window, he saw Tom’s Porsche parked at the curb and remembered that they’d invited him for dinner before the service.

  He opened the door as the bell chimed again. Tom followed him into the living room, took a look around, then, without even a greeting, asked, “What’s wrong?”

  “Who says anything’s wrong?”

  “You do. That expression. Where’s Maggie?”


  “Gone.”

  “Gone where?” Tom glanced around again as if he might spot her in some hidden corner. “You mean gone? What happened?”

  “She remembered.” Ross crouched in front of the tree and the gifts he’d placed there just a short time ago. It was frightening how desperately things had changed since then.

  “Remembered what?”

  He touched the smallest package, the one that held the emerald earrings Tom had overnighted from the office. When he’d given them to her originally, she’d been thrilled, and when they’d made love later that night, she’d worn them and nothing else. He’d entertained some fanciful notion of doing so again sometime, but it wasn’t going to happen.

  Rising, he went to stand in front of the fireplace. After scrutinizing everything on the mantel there, he turned to face his lawyer—his friend. “That I had an affair. With Jessica Hinton.”

  For the first time in all the years Ross had known him, Tom reacted without thinking. “For God’s sake, Ross, why?”

  “I was lonely. She was available.” He shrugged. “She was willing.”

  “A lot of women were willing, and they weren’t your wife’s best friend.”

  “It just happened. It was stupid and meaningless and we both hated and regretted it, but it happened and I can’t change it.”

  Tom muttered something under his breath that sounded strongly of an insult. “Where would Maggie go?”

  “I don’t know.”

  “Have you called her friends?”

  “One—the police chief. He’s got his officers looking for her.”

  “She wouldn’t go to Buffalo, would she?”

  “I don’t know.”

  Tom hesitated over what was apparently an unwelcome question, then asked it anyway. “She wouldn’t hurt herself, would she?”

  “No.” Then the sharpness was replaced by a sudden resurgence of fear. “Not deliberately.” Not that intent mattered. It hadn’t been deliberate last Christmas, but she’d almost died anyway.

  “Give me her friends’ names. I’ll call them.”

  Ross took him into the kitchen and pointed out the names in the address book. Then, from the island, he listened while Tom dialed each number, then repeated the same words. My name is Tom Flynn. I work for Maggie McKinney’s husband, and I’m trying to locate her. Have you see her this evening? Each time he got the same negative answer.