“Nothing can hurt me now. I have you two back in my life,” Maggie said.
Jackson kissed the top of her head. “I say give it a week to let it sink in. Do not call her this afternoon, for example. You’re both in shock.”
“Fine,” Maggie said. “You’re absolutely right. We’re all still adjusting to the fact that I’m not dead.” She giggled. “I’m sorry. I know it’s not funny.”
“You always laugh at inappropriate times,” Jackson said. “Do you remember that time in Mr. Wilson’s geometry class when Melissa Camp slipped and hit her head on the side of the table?”
“That was awful of me,” Maggie said. “It’s a nervous reaction when I’m scared. I still feel bad about that.”
“She didn’t know,” Jackson said.
“Because she was knocked unconscious,” Maggie said, giggling again. “See? What’s wrong with me? I’m a bad person.”
Zane kicked the side of the coffee table as his neck flushed with heat. “This situation is not funny, Maggie. At all. Your dad robbed us of twelve years.”
She stood and took Zane’s hands, halting his erratic pacing. “I know. But if we’re bitter, he wins. We can’t let him ruin any more of our years.”
Zane perched on the arm of a chair. A tight grimace spoiled his handsome features. “You know I can never let go of a grudge.”
“This one’s hard to let go of,” Jackson said. “I keep wondering what my mom would say if she knew what he’d done.”
“I wish we could ask her,” Zane said. “Or my dad.”
Maggie wandered over to the hutch and moved a vase about two inches to the left. What would their parents say to them? What would they have them do now? “Lily told me once that God presented hardships for us to grow into the people we’re meant to be.”
Jackson’s chest tightened. His mother had said similar sentiments to him more than once. What good had cancer given her? Cancer took her during the prime of her life. He rested his neck on the back of the couch and fixed his gaze on the ceiling, fighting the angry lump at the back of his throat.
In the bright afternoon light, tiny brushstrokes were visible in the paint. An image of his mother played like a movie on the ceiling. She watered plants on their deck and listened to his story about something that had happened at school and laughed. Her blond curls bounced and looked like corn silk under the sunlight.
He blinked to shake the melancholy and moved his focus to Maggie.
She moved to the window and looked out toward the direction of the ocean. “My biggest mistake was seeing the world through my dad’s eyes. He set it up for me to believe the worst in the people I loved.” She turned from the window to look at them. Her voice deepened to a throaty tone as she spoke. “I let myself embrace the anger and abandonment I felt, instead of looking into my heart and thinking about how out of character it was for any of you to delete me from your lives. Do you see that’s what my father wanted? He wanted me to be bitter and suspicious and full of hate. It worked. But I can’t live that way for one more day. I believe that most people are good—and most certainly you two are. I’m not going to waste one more second on anger.”
Jackson stole a glance at Zane just as his friend wiped under his eyes. “Mags, you’re more highly evolved than I,” Zane said. “No surprise there. It’s hard to let go and forgive, but you’re right, it only gives him more of what he wants if we let anger fuel us.” He glanced at the clock. “Shoot, it’s late. I need to get downstairs and open the restaurant.”
“And I need to get back to work,” Jackson said.
“I’ll come down and help you get ready for the lunch crowd,” Maggie said.
As the three of them headed down Zane’s stairs, she returned to the subject of Sophie. “We should wait a week or so before we call Sophie. That way we can come up with our script.”
“Script?” Zane asked.
“Yes. We need to write down what we want to say, so we don’t blow it with a clumsy exchange. It’s always good to know your lines before you call a long-lost sister,” Maggie said.
“This isn’t an audition,” Jackson said, teasing. “Even if it feels like one.”
“I know, but I still like to be prepared,” Maggie said.
“I’ll let you do the talking,” Zane said.
“That’s probably best,” Jackson said.
That evening, Jackson stood next to Maggie by the empty swimming pool at the Arnoult house. They’d completed their tour, which had reinforced Jackson’s fears. What had he done? The place was chaos incarnate. A fire hazard. A health code violation. It smelled horrific. Seriously, what had he been thinking? This was a perfect example of why one did not make decisions in the span of an evening.
But this house—this house was the stuff of dreams. This place had represented all his dreams. His desire to buy it had overwhelmed all sense of lucidity.
This house had represented Maggie. Being here had made her seem real and close. Had he thought it would bring her back to him somehow?
Had it?
Was he insane?
No. Maggie was real. Right now, she strolled with Kyle toward the large sycamore with her sun hat dangling from her hand.
Hot, Jackson wiped his forehead with the back of his hand as he followed them toward the shade of the sycamore. From the shade, he surveyed the yard. The pool would need an entire resurfacing. Grass would have to be reseeded. Flower beds weeded and replanted. It could shine again with a facelift or two.
Kyle, dressed in a stylish tan cotton suit, took off his jacket and folded it over his arm. How did he always look so cool and put together?
“Maggie, what do you think?” Kyle asked.
Jackson glanced over at her, expecting to see the horror he felt reflected on her face. Instead, she bounced on her feet like an excited child. “It’s magnificent.”
“Really?” Kyle said. “Because I can tell Jackson’s about to have a heart attack.”
She grinned. “Imagination, Jackson. You have to use your imagination.”
“You know I was never good at that,” Jackson said.
She slipped her hand into his. “No worries. I have enough for both of us.”
Kyle took his phone from his pocket. “Let’s talk dates. I can have a crew out here by the middle of next week. We’ll start with getting rid of everything inside and then strip walls and remove flooring. I’ll have you meet with my decorator. She can walk you through floors and paint colors.”
“Don’t forget the kitchen,” Jackson said. “We’ll need new appliances.”
Kyle laughed. “Don’t worry, bud. I’ve done this before.”
After Kyle left, Jackson spread a blanket under the sycamore tree. He set up a low, portable picnic table he’d borrowed from his dad as Maggie had grabbed a cooler with their dinner from the back of Jackson’s truck. While he opened a bottle of cold white wine, she arranged bread, cheese, and salami onto plates. He poured them each a glass and leaned against the back of the tree, watching Maggie’s graceful hands spread a piece of bread with goat cheese.
“Tell me about your friends in New York, Bird.”
She chirped away for a few minutes about Lisa and Pepper with stories of their antics in college and afterward. There were tales of auditions and parties and shifts at the bar where they worked. “Lisa was a cocktail waitress, but I worked as a bartender. I lied and told the owner I’d been to bartending school. He never checked because I knew how to make drinks well by then. Thanks to Hugh.” She popped a piece of salami into her mouth and chewed. She makes eating salami look like a work of art.
“Hugh taught you that in high school?” Jackson asked. Maggie had been underage when she worked for him.
“Don’t look so scandalized,” she said. “He taught Zane and me how to make drinks during off hours. Not for actual customers, but as practice for when we went to college. He said you could always find work if you knew how to tend bar.”
“He never told me that,” Jackson said.
<
br /> “You worked for your dad. No bar shifts for you. What did Zane used to say? You were born with a silver spoon in your cheek.”
“Not cheek. Mouth,” he said. She could butcher a saying like no one else.
“Mouth. I knew that.”
He chuckled. “Zane and the silver spoon thing used to get on my nerves.”
“He was just jealous,” she said. “Mostly because you had such a great mom. I don’t think either of us realized how much it hurt him that his mother left them.”
“Zane’s tough to read. Even for me.”
“He always has been. He keeps his cards close to his sleeve.”
“Close to his chest.” Jackson laughed. “God, you’re adorable.”
“I’m like the opposite of a savant when it comes to sayings.” Maggie swatted away a fly before it landed on the slab of cheese. “Seriously, what’s wrong with me?”
“Nothing. Not one thing. You’re perfect.”
“No I’m not, but I love that you say so,” she said.
She leaned over close to him and planted a kiss on his cheek. He grabbed her face between his hands and kissed her soundly on the mouth.
“Stop that now,” she said. “The ghost of Aunt Stella might be watching.”
He shuddered and picked up his glass of wine. “You don’t really think its haunted, do you?”
“No, of course not. There’s no such thing.” She sipped her wine and wrinkled her brow, clearly thinking of something else.
“Penny for your thoughts?” he asked.
She tilted her head and gazed at him with soft eyes. “Your mother used to say that.”
“Yeah, I remember.”
“Penny, not a nickel.” Maggie grinned. “Is that correct?”
“Yes.”
“I was thinking the only ghosts around here are the two of us.” She pointed toward the driveway. “If I close my eyes, I can see the two of us just outside the gate when we were about twelve years old. Bicycles overturned in the grass—noses pressed against the emblem of the eagle—talking about how many kids we would have and that we’d have pool parties and dance under the light of the moon with all our friends.” Her voice had become wistful and husky as she spoke.
His eyes stung, but he smiled and made a joke to hide how her words made his chest ache with hope and regret all intermingled like the various wildflowers in the field. “It was you who said we’d dance. Not me. You remember my two left feet.”
She touched the tips of her fingers against his lips and looked into his eyes. “But you would, for me?”
“I’d do anything in the world for you, Bird. Anything. Even dance.”
“You promised to dance with me at our prom, do you remember?” she asked.
“I would’ve too. If we’d been able to go. If you’d let me take you.”
“I couldn’t. Not that day.” Maggie’s eyes filled with tears.
“My mom wanted us to go. She told me to make sure I took you, no matter how sick she was.”
“I couldn’t. Not when we lost her that same day. The prom suddenly seemed stupid. The dress and the corsage and everything—none of it mattered if your mom wasn’t there to take our photograph.” Maggie’s swiped her cheeks with a napkin. “So many things would’ve have happened differently if your mom hadn’t have died. When I think of it…of all the loss…” She trailed off.
He pulled her close against his side with his arm around her waist. “Bird, it’s over now. You’ve come back to me. We have time still. Lots and lots of time.”
“Have you danced with anyone else?” Maggie’s voice trembled. “I know you slept with Sharon, but if you danced with her—I might not be able to stand it.”
He spoke into her hair. “No. Not anyone else. I couldn’t. I wouldn’t. Not after I lost you. You were the only one I ever made that promise to.”
“Do you remember what you promised me?” she asked. “Do you remember exactly?”
“Yes. I promised you I’d dance with you at prom and our wedding and any other time you wanted.”
“Did you mean it?”
“Every word.”
She nestled her face into his chest. “How is it that this feels so right? After all these years, it’s just the same.”
“Because we’re us,” he said. “Simple as that.”
They sat in silence for a few minutes. The early evening air was still and fragrant with the scent of sweet peas. He imagined he heard the buzz of bees as they flickered from flower to flower, sucking sweet nectar.
“Do you really think this is a good idea?” He gestured toward the house.
“Why wouldn’t it be?” she asked.
“Because I won’t be able to live here without you,” he said.
She played with a small hole in the thigh of his jeans. “What if I said you didn’t have to?”
“Bird?” Did she mean it?
“What if I said that the ghosts—the ones at the gate—whispered to me that I belong here? With you.”
“I would say—I believe they’re right.”
“What if I said I don’t want to live without you by my side for one more day?” she asked.
“You know what I’d say back?” he asked.
“What?”
“I would say I don’t want to spend one more day without you by my side,” he said.
From the branches above, a bird squawked an ugly song, loud and jarring. Maggie jumped. Jackson laughed. “So much for our romantic moment.”
“What’s wrong with that bird?” Maggie asked.
“He sings like I dance.”
“Then he must have a partner who loves him very much,” she said. “Who doesn’t care how he sounds, only that he sings for her.”
Chapter Seventeen
Maggie
* * *
THE NEXT MORNING, Maggie sat across from Zane in his living room as he opened his laptop. They’d promised each other they would wait a week to contact Sophie, but there was no way that was going to happen. Curiosity may have killed the cat, but they didn’t care. Today was the day. They were writing to Sophie.
“You do it from your Facebook account,” he said. “It’s less likely to seem creepy coming from another woman.”
“Good point.” Because they were not “friends,” Maggie couldn’t be sure she would see it, but they thought it was worth trying before they attempted to locate either an email address or phone number. Maggie was glad to see that Sophie didn’t have too much information out there for the public to see. There were a lot of creeps who loved to prey on young women.
Dear Sophie,
This will sound strange. There’s no way around that. I’m writing because I think you’re my sister. My mother, Margaret (Mae) Keene, gave birth to a baby girl on December 21, 1997. That same night, my mother died, and the baby was taken without permission and dropped at Fire Station 38 in San Francisco. The woman who dropped the baby at the fire station was not part of our family but was directed by my father to do so. He and my mother were estranged at the time. She had an affair and became pregnant. I believe you are that baby.
Until recently, I believed my mother’s baby had died that night and the body disposed of. Police could never find any evidence of foul play, although it was quite clear my mother had given birth hours before she died. Without a body, it was impossible to bring charges against my father, who I and others believed was responsible for the baby’s death as well as my mother’s.
My father and I had not spoken for many years. Several days ago, I came to see him, knowing that he has only weeks to live. My intent was to find out the truth. I have done so. You are the baby I thought died that night. You were taken from Cliffside Bay to a fire station in San Francisco. I’d like to meet and at least talk. I would be happy to do DNA tests to see if my hunch is correct. I also believe you have a brother—the son of the man my mother had the affair with, i.e., the man I believe to be your father. He is still alive but has Alzheimer’s. If my assumptions are correct,
he never knew about you. I don’t want anything from you, other than to meet you and have the chance to tell you about your mother. Your half-brother, Zane Shaw, would like to meet you as well.
Please email me at [email protected] or call 555-239-1678 if you’d like to talk further.
With hope,
Maggie Keene
When she finished, she asked Zane to read it to see if he wanted to add anything.
“No, it looks good. Let’s do it,” Zane said.
She hit send.
They stared at each other. “What now?” Maggie asked.
“We wait.”
“I’ve always been terrible at that,” she said.
“Me too.” Zane reclined in one of his lounge chairs and put his feet on the coffee table.
“How about we talk about something else? Something to take our minds off the wait?” Maggie asked.
He raised an eyebrow and crossed his arms over his chest. “Like what?”
“How about Honor Sullivan?”
He let out a long breath. “What about her?”
“How come you’re not asking her to go steady?” Maggie asked.
“No one has said ‘go steady’ since 1960.”
“I just said it. I’m going steady with Jackson.”
He rested his cheek in his hand and smiled. “I’m glad. It’s meant to be between you two. I always knew it, even when I was in love with you back in the day.”
Her mouth dropped open. “What did you just say?”
“I was madly in love with you for a decade, but I knew your heart belonged to Jackson, so I suffered in silence.”
“You were not in love with me.”
“I was.”
“How come you never said anything?” Maggie asked. “I always thought I was like your sister.”
“I’m a good actor too.”
She couldn’t think of what to say next. Did Jackson know?
He grinned. “Don’t look so horrified. I lived through it.”
“Did it hurt?”
“At the time, a little. But unrequited love is also a pretty safe route. You know, the long-suffering best friend in love with Jackson’s girl—makes it easy to stay on the sidelines, so to speak. It also gave me all kinds of excuses for dating other young ladies as a distraction.”
Deleted Page 18