She didn’t answer. Although the look in her eyes wasn’t quite so wild or as terrified.
An uneasy silence fell between them. The only sound was their strained breathing and the rain as it pounded down, relentless in its assault.
He saw her trembling in the meager light spilling from the kitchen window of her house—from the chill of the rain, or from a lingering fear, he wasn’t sure which. Needlessly he said, “You’re shivering.”
“I’m fine,” she said at last. Her unsteady voice brought him a rush of sweet relief.
“You’re soaked. You need to go inside,” he persisted, standing slowly.
Glancing away, looking too weak to argue, she nodded an agreement. Her bare feet slid out from beneath her on the wet grass as she tried to stand.
Without thinking, Jason reached out a hand and slipped it under her arm to steady her.
She flinched at his touch. But he didn’t let go.
“I’m not going to hurt you,” he said, looking into her wide-eyed gaze. He felt the tremors that shook her body and, once again, wondered at the cause of such fear. “It’ll be quicker if you let me help you.”
With obvious reluctance, she yielded to his assistance.
Holding her as close as he dared, he lifted her to her feet. Together they crossed the yard to her house. The lights shimmered in the windows, looking so much more inviting than the dark and wet skies. The soles of his tennis shoes thudded against the wooden porch. Her bare feet padded softly next to his.
Maggie hesitated at the door, uncertain what to do next.
Jason took the initiative. Without asking, he opened the screen door. The hinges squeaked a protest, warning him to move carefully. The door banged shut behind them, startling him, as they stepped into the kitchen.
It was the first time he’d been inside her house. Despite the circumstances, he liked what he saw. The wooden cabinets were old, but they had recently been painted a creamy white. Blue-and-white-checked curtains brightened the windows. Colorful rag rugs covered the worn linoleum floor. Maggie’s little kitchen felt like a home.
Jason helped her to the table, seating her on one of the chrome-and-vinyl chairs. Reluctantly he released the grip he had on her arm, immediately missing the reassuring feel of her body. He lingered close, taking a moment to study her pale face. The fact that she didn’t seem to object to his proximity spoke of the depth of the shock she was still in.
Brushing away his concern, ignoring his own discomfort caused by wet shoes and damp clothes, he looked around for something constructive to do. He spotted the cobalt blue teapot on the stovetop. Crouching down to her level, searching her green eyes for a spark of life, he said, “I’m going to make you a hot drink.”
She blinked, looking at him as though through a mist of confusion. Then her response, soft and weak though it was, gave him hope for her recovery. “There are teabags...on the shelf... in the flowered canister.”
He smiled his relief. “Okay. It’ll just be a minute.”
Clumsily, he splattered water as he filled the teapot, belying his show of confidence. Maggie didn’t move, not even when he banged open the cabinets, searching for a cup. Instead, she stared blankly at the floor, watching the water drip from her clothes and puddle at her feet.
“You need a towel, Maggie. Where can I find one?” he asked, his tone firm, allowing no argument.
There was a touch of resignation in her voice as she said, “Upstairs, in the hallway closet.”
Nodding, he strode through the kitchen, making his way as quickly and quietly as possible up the stairs. Kevin was asleep. The last thing he wanted was to wake the boy and let him see his mother in such distress. Grabbing a couple of thick towels from the closet shelf, he hurried back to Maggie.
She was at the stove when he reentered the kitchen. Her back to him, he couldn’t see the expression on her face. But she appeared stronger, the trembling not quite so noticeable. She wouldn’t be needing his help much longer. Gripping the towels in his bands, he ignored the tug of disappointment in his chest and waited for her to ask him to leave.
There were two mugs of tea in her hands when she turned around. Embarrassed color bloomed on her face as she glanced at him. “I thought we could both use a hot drink.”
“Thanks,” he said, trying to hide his surprised relief. “I’d like that.”
She placed the mugs on the table, pulling one of them toward her as she took her place, once again, on the vinyland-chrome chair. Looking up at him, holding his gaze with hers, she asked, “Won’t you sit down?”
It was his turn to feel the heat of embarrassment. Handing her the towels, he pulled out a chair and slid into the seat, his wet clothes making a squishy noise.
She returned one of the towels to him, the trace of a smile lifting the corner of her mouth. “I think you might need one of these.”
“Thanks,” he mumbled, burying his hot face in the cool, clean-scented towel. He’d tried to be the hero, rescuing the damsel in distress. Somehow the tables got turned. Just who was saving whom now?
He felt the weight of her gaze. Like a butterfly, her gaze flitted away when he looked up and caught her studying him. Holding the towel on her lap, she picked up her tea and blew the steam off the top. Unable to help himself, Jason studied the delicate shape of her pursed lips.
Slowly, as though aware of his interest, she lowered the mug without drinking. Biting down nervously on that beautiful lower lip, keeping her gaze focused on the table, she said, “I’m sorry about before. I don’t know why I acted so jumpy.”
“There’s no reason to apologize.”
“You caught me off guard. I wasn’t expecting anyone...”
“Like I said, there’s no need for an apology. If anyone should be sorry, it’s me. I’m the one who invaded your privacy.”
She looked at him, her green eyes searching his face. “Why did you?”
“Invade your privacy?”
She nodded, her gaze uncertain.
Jason shifted uncomfortably in his seat. What could he say? The truth? That since the day he’d met her, she intrigued him? That no matter how hard he tried, he couldn’t keep his mind off her?
He didn’t think she was ready for that much honesty.
. Instead, he released a long breath and embellished the truth. “A hazard of my job, I guess. I can’t sit back and watch someone in trouble. It seems I have to stick my nose into other people’s business, even when it doesn’t belong.”
She turned her cup in a half circle on the table. Watching the clouds of cooling tea, she appeared lost in thought, considering his answer. “I’m not in trouble. Not now, anyway. Before he died, my husband...” Her voice broke. She swallowed bard.
Jason waited. His nerves felt taut as he forced himself to be patient, letting her struggle for the right words. Experience had taught him that anything this hard to say must be important.
Finally she blurted, “My husband ... he had a bad temper.”
“He hit you.” Miraculously he kept his tone even, despite the hot fist of anger that gripped his heart. Drawing in a steadying breath, he asked, “Kevin, too?”
She nodded, unable to look at him.
A weight lifted from his shoulders. Answers to questions that had nagged him fell into place. Maggie’s skittishness, her reluctance to be neighborly, the fear he saw in her eyes every time he drew near, now he understood all of those things.
How could he have been so blind? In his line of work, he’d dealt with domestic abuse many times. Maggie had that haunted, hollow-eyed look about her, the one he’d seen so often in the eyes of abused wives. If it hadn’t been for his pride getting in the way, surely he would have noticed before.
“Pardon me for saying so, but I’m not sorry that your husband is dead. In my book, any man who hits a woman and a child doesn’t deserve to live.”
She looked at him, startled by his vehemence.
Not too smart, Gallagher, he chastized himself. Once again he’d let hi
s emotions control his judgment.
“He can’t hurt me anymore,” she said, shaking her head, a trace of that familiar stubborn determination returning to her voice.
Jason wondered who she was trying to convince. Him? Or herself? Choosing his words carefully, he said, “Maybe not physically. But mentally he’s still got you in the palm of his hand.”
“I’m dealing with it,” she said, her tone sharp, final, inviting no further discussion.
Frustrated, Jason stared at her. He’d seen how she’d dealt with her past. By crying outside in the pouring rain, so her son wouldn’t hear her sobs. As though sensing his disapproval, she hugged her arms tightly around her waist and shivered. Sighing, he pushed himself to his feet “You need to get out of those wet things. It’s time for me to leave.”
Maggie didn’t protest.
He paused, taking one last moment to study her. Her complexion was pale, making the freckles on her face stand out even more. Wet strands of strawberry blond hair curled about her shoulders. Her damp and muddied clothes clung to her body. Yet despite her disheveled appearance, Jason knew he’d never seen a more beautiful woman.
“Thank you, Maggie.” The words sounded strained, his throat thick with unspoken emotion.
Confusion shadowed her eyes as she looked up at him, her brow furrowing in a frown.
Quietly he said, “For trusting me enough to share your past. You didn’t have to do it, but I appreciate that you did.”
A flicker of unreadable emotion crossed her face. She averted her eyes and turned her head away.
Knowing he’d overstayed his welcome, although wishing he could do more to help, Jason strode from the room, leaving Maggie to deal with the demons of her past on her own.
Chapter 6
“Mom, we’re going to be late,” Kevin complained, squirming impatiently at the door of the bathroom as he watched her apply her makeup.
“Kevin, the Spring Carnival doesn’t have a set opening time,” Maggie said calmly. “We can come and go whenever we please.”
“I want to go now.”
Maggie chuckled. “I know you do. And we will—if you’d just let me finish getting ready.”
He tried a new tack. His expression sober, his tone sincere, he said, “You don’t need makeup, Mom. You look pretty just the way you are.”
“Why thank you, sir,” she said, smoothing a hand along the skirt of her mint-colored print sundress. Then, matching the sincerity of his tone, she added, “But when you’re as old as I am, you really don’t want everyone to see all your freckles.”
Kevin sighed and leaned against the frame of the door.
Watching him out of the corner of her eye, Maggie dusted her cheeks with powder. “Did I tell you how proud I was of you today? You did such a great job playing Father Time in the class play.”
“Only about a million times.”
She smiled, then reached for a tube of peach-colored lipstick. “You didn’t forget any of your lines.”
“No, but my beard kept falling off.”
“Hardly noticeable,” she said, brushing away his concern. “The point is, you weren’t afraid. You got up there in front of all those parents and did what you had to do. That took a lot of courage.”
He shrugged, looking half embarrassed, half pleased with the compliment. Changing the subject, he said, “Sarah Moore forgot one of her lines. I had to tell her the beginning of it to get her started.”
“That was nice of you.”
“Yeah, well, she’s okay. For a girl, anyway.”
Maggie bit back a smile and applied her lipstick, hoping that nothing would ever change her son’s simplistic view of the male/female relationship. Glad that his father’s erratic behavior in the name of love and marriage hadn’t jaundiced his innocence.
“I guess I’m finished,” she said with one last glance in the mirror.
“Finally.” Kevin heaved a sigh. He turned and headed for the staircase.
Maggie followed at a slower pace, the heels of her sandals clicking on the wooden steps. Her heart fluttered with trepidation. If it wasn’t for Kevin, she wouldn’t be going to the school’s Spring Carnival. If it was up to her, she’d stay in her own house where it was safe and familiar.
Meeting new people, socializing with the locals outside the diner—it was all a new experience for her. One she wasn’t sure she was ready to handle. One she wasn’t sure was wise.
Since running away from California, it had always been her policy to stay on the fringes of a town’s social circle. For a year and a half, she’d been a spectator, not a participant. But as Kevin grew older, his needs had changed. He craved friendship, the camaraderie that came with being part of a group, the security of being accepted by others.
How could she deny him such a normal part of childhood?
And, to be honest, was she so different? Since coming to Wyndchester, she realized how isolated her life had become... how lonely she was.
“Come on, Mom,” Kevin said, forcing her out of her troubled thoughts. He stood impatiently at the front door, frowning as he watched her hesitant pace down the stairs. “You’re moving too slow.”
“I’m wearing sandals and a sundress. It wouldn’t look right if I ran in a dress,” she said, grabbing her sweater from the coatrack. She handed Kevin a jacket. “Take this along for later. In case it gets cold.”
“Why didn’t you wear tennis shoes and jeans like me?” he grumbled, opening the door.
She shrugged. “Because it’s fun to dress up.”
Rolling his eyes, he gave a silent opinion of an adult’s view of a good time. He stepped outside and bolted across the porch. His tennis shoes thumped on the wooden floor. Maggie shook her head and double-locked the door behind her.
A light breeze caressed the bare skin of her arms. The sun was just beginning to set, turning the sky into a pastel palette of pinks and blues. It promised to be a beautiful evening for a street party. Maggie’s spirits lifted., her qualms forgotten in the serenity of the moment.
Until they passed the house next door.
No lights shone inside. It looked quiet, deserted. Kevin paused, glancing at the white house with the dark blue shutters. “Do you think Mr. Gallagher will be at the carnival?”
Butterflies danced in her stomach. Maggie felt her face warm with embarrassment. The last time she saw Jason, she hadn’t been at her best. “I don’t know, Kevin. He’s been awfully busy lately.”
So busy, in fact, that in the three days since their encounter in the rain she hadn’t seen hide nor hair of him. Not at the diner. Not in their adjoining backyards. His absence had become so obvious Maggie couldn’t help but wonder if he was avoiding her.
Not that she blamed him. He’d witnessed her at her worst. She’d been an emotional wreck, haunted by the past, on the brink of losing total control. Jason had seen her distress and had tried to help.
And how had she reacted?
With fear.
In the darkness of the stormy night, she’d lost all perspective. In her mind it hadn’t been Jason reaching out to her, it had been her ex-husband. Expecting a blow, her protective instincts had kicked into gear. Blindly she had fought to flee his threatening presence.
But she’d been wrong. Jason wasn’t a threat. He’d been gentle and strong, keeping his distance, yet at the same time soothing her fears.
And when she’d confided a small portion of her past, he’d thanked her for her honesty.
Distracted, Maggie caught a heel on a bump in the sidewalk. Her heart lurched as she kept herself from falling. Her cheeks flushed at the painful memory rather than the near fall.
Honesty. She’d never felt so dishonest before in her life.
Jason believed she was a widow. He didn’t know she was a fugitive from justice, running away from an abusive ex-husband. With her lie, she’d betrayed one of the few men who’d shown her nothing but kindness and sincerity.
Kevin grabbed her hand, tugging hard, demanding her attention. �
�Look, Mom. There’s the party.”
Ahead, Maggie saw strings of lights crisscrossing the playground and the streets that bordered the school. Beneath the lights, the grounds were teaming with people of all ages. Carnival rides and game booths were scattered about. Sounds of conversation and laughter and a band tuning up in the distance drifted on the soft breeze. The scent of popcorn and cotton candy filled the air, making her mouth water.
It had been so long since she’d been to a party. A buzz of excitement raced through her veins. Kevin didn’t bother to conceal his emotions. He hopped eagerly from one foot to another, obviously impressed by the scene. To Maggie, the awed expression on her son’s face was priceless.
“There’s a Ferris wheel, Mom!” he said, pointing.
“I see it. And look, there’s a carousel, too.”
Kevin pulled on her arm. “Come on, Mom. Let’s go ride ’em.”
“Me?” Maggie laughed, dragging her heels. “I don’t know, Kevin. I don’t remember the last time I ever—”
Tommy Marshall, Kevin’s best friend, came to her rescue. He skidded to a stop before them, mere inches from a collision. “Come on, Kevin. The rides just opened. Let’s get in line.”
Kevin looked to her for permission, a silent plea in his eyes.
Maggie hesitated. Letting go, putting her son’s safety in the hands of others, was something she’d never felt comfortable doing. She swallowed her fears and forced a smile. “Of course you can. Go ahead. I won’t be far behind—in case you need anything.”
Kevin grinned, then sped off without her.
For the next hour Maggie kept a discreet eye on her son’s activities. His young face was lit up with an excitement equal to that of any of the other children running about the schoolyard. Occasionally his eyes searched the grounds. When he found her, he smiled and waved. Then, reassured, he went back to his friends.
Maggie swallowed the lump in her throat. It wouldn’t be long before he wouldn’t need her. Pushing the thought from her mind, she turned before Kevin could see the tears misting her eyes.
Her Second Chance Family Page 8