Maggie's Way (Montana Bound Series Book 1)

by Bradley, Linda

  I sighed. Lucky me. I am the perfect size and shape. I’ll have to tell my mother that I’m perfect for something.

  “The radiation will catch the corner of your lung.”

  I held my breath. My lung, now my lung?

  “It’ll look like spider veins in the future and when a doctor tells you that you have scarring you need to let them know you had radiation so they don’t go any further with biopsies or tell you that you have something suspicious that they need to investigate.”

  “What about breathing?” I muttered.

  “Your lungs are big enough. The small portion being affected will not impede your breathing or lung function.”

  I looked over to her from the corner of my eye. My left arm began to throb.

  “I’m very sorry for the delay. I know you’ve been on that board for longer than usual, but we’re almost finished.”

  “Tattoos.” I grimaced.

  “Six little pokes and you’ll be done.” She took her Sharpie and darkened the spots she had placed on my torso at the beginning of our session, making sure the one between my breasts was low enough not to be seen in the event I wanted to wear a low-cut top. Fat chance of that happening, especially now.

  “Okay, let’s get this over with.” I held my breath as I watched the nurses prepare the needles. My eyes watered from the first injection. By the time the sixth tattoo was in place, a few tears escaped the corner of my eyes. I blinked, trying to swallow away the pain. Each stinging jab hit a bony area, leaving me to curse my thin frame.

  “Okay, now let’s get your arm down and get you up.”

  Relief washed over me. Too stiff to move, I let the nurse’s arms hoist me up.

  “Now when you come tomorrow, we’ll have a dry run in the radiation room to make sure the tattoos are in the correct spots. The day after that, we will begin your treatment,” Dr. Masterson said.

  The tattoo sites burned. Worry trickled down to my toes as I made my way back to the changing room. Getting out of there couldn’t happen too soon.

  “You look horrible.”

  I opened my eyes. There she was, the newest addition to the neighborhood, and my new best friend, Chloe McIntyre. I moaned then rested my arm over my eyes thinking if I blocked her from my vision she’d disappear. “Shouldn’t you be home? Won’t the nanny be looking for you?” I didn’t want a visit from her father. I turned my head to peek out from behind my arm. She was still there.

  “Probably not. Is there something wrong with you?” she questioned.

  “Nope. Just tired,” I answered with a sigh.

  “You look too skinny. You need to eat more.”

  I scowled. She sounded like my mother.

  “Thought you’d be done with your book by now,” Chloe said, inspecting the dog-eared page near the end.

  “Nope. Almost.” I sat up on the edge of my lounge chair. My legs and feet bathed in the summer sun as the rest of me hid in the shade. Both Dr. Akin and Dr. Masterson made it clear that being in the sun should be avoided, especially during radiation.

  “Maybe if you put your whole body in the sun, that will help,” Chloe suggested.

  She tugged on my chair, but her efforts didn’t outweigh me. “I think I’ll stay put. It’s okay, really.” I examined her determined expression and bright orange nail polish.

  “I’ll lay with you. We can talk.” She plopped down in the chair beside me. “Don’t worry, I left Voodoo at home.”

  “Good call,” I said.

  Chloe scooted her chair into the sun then leaned back. The thin strings of blue jean fringe jutted over her skinny thighs. I hadn’t worn cutoffs since college. Her plain white tank top screamed minimalist.

  “I think I’ll just kick off my sandals. Don’t want tan lines,” she said.

  Shit. I closed my eyes and shifted my weight trying to ease my wrenched back. My backyard, supposedly my haven, evidently was now a pest magnet.

  “I asked my dad for a puppy. He said no.”

  “You can get one when you’re older.” I hadn’t used that line since Bradley was fourteen.

  “Maybe you should get a dog. It might make you happy.” Chloe cleared her throat and rested her head back as she closed her eyes.

  “I’m fine,” I grunted. I couldn’t remember the last time I was truly happy, but I knew barking and dog poop were not a sure remedy.

  “You don’t act fine. Every time I come over here you get this weird look on your face. You didn’t seem so happy when that guy was leaving your house yesterday, you know, the blondish model-looking guy. He was cute. If a guy showed up at my house looking like that, I’d be smiling from ear-to-ear. Our pool guy, at our old house, used to look like that. My mom never frowned when he was around. My dad didn’t like him. Go figure. I miss my old house,” Chloe rambled.

  I thought I’d give her a taste of her own medicine even if I did want all the details on her mom and the pool guy. “That’s the pot calling the kettle black.”

  Chloe winced. “What does that mean?”

  “You don’t seem so happy either,” I grunted in her direction.

  “I miss my best friend, Bella.”

  “Sorry.”

  “Oh, I almost forgot, your mom stopped by when you were gone this morning. She’s a hoot. I told her I’d call her when you got back, but she wouldn’t give me her phone number.”

  “Intuitive,” I whispered.

  “What’s that mean?” she questioned.

  “Nothing. Really, you should tell Nanny Nora where you are. She’ll worry,” I said.

  “No, I really don’t’ think she will. She’s taking a nap.” Chloe held out her arm and pointed to her watch. “When the big hand gets on the three, that’s when I should go get her up.”

  I rolled my eyes.

  “Got any ice cream left?” she asked.

  “Nope. Ate it.”

  “Bradley home yet? I’d like to meet him.”

  My head began to pulsate and my temples tightened. “Sorry. You know, we could just rest here without talking.”

  “I’m not a baby. I don’t need a nap,” Chloe snapped.

  I sat up then slid my feet into my sandals. “It’s time for me to wash the cat.”

  “You have a cat?” Chloe yelped in excitement.

  She stood in front of me as I tried to make my way into the house. “If you’ll excuse me, I have things to attend to.”

  “It’s not nice to lie. That’s what my dad says.”

  I mimicked Chloe as she put her hand on her hip then I picked up my novel and Beckett’s little leather journal I didn’t have the courage to open. “Seriously, I have to redo the towel closet and reorganize the canned goods in the pantry.”

  Chloe closed one eye and peered up into my face. Her sandy straight hair fluttered in the breeze. “Need help?”

  I breathed deeply, squelching any unkind words. “Nope. Not today.” And if I do, I won’t be calling you. “I’m really sorry, Chloe. Show me your watch.” I drew her arm closer so I could see the minute hand. “Look, you’ve got five minutes ‘til it’s time to get Nanny Nora up. That’s just enough time to sneak back into the house and grab a snack without her knowing.” Flashbacks of sneaking around with my best friend Lily Anderson prickled at my heart. How I missed her.

  Chloe hurried to slip on her sandals. “Thanks for the idea, sister. So long, I’ll be back.”

  I watched her trot out of the yard. “Remind me to put a lock on that fence,” I mumbled to myself.

  Chapter 5

  Plucking deadheads from the flowerbed seemed like a mindless task as I mulled over the last two days. My nose twitched at the smell of lake water. Its sweet aroma beckoned me to come play, but I ignored it, tugged my gardening hat down, and continued to work. It seemed as if I was always working. I thrived on being busy. I did my best work when I was on overload.

  Shooing away the ladybug bound and determined to keep me company took too much energy so I decided to let her stay, besides
there was something comforting in her red and black polka-dotted design.

  Chloe’s footprints matted down the impeccable Pachysandra bedding my shrubs. I leaned through the crevices trying to fluff up the trampled areas. I wondered how much time Chloe really spent down there. Lots, by the shape it was in. I blinked trying to push away the urge to teeter over. I scorned myself for not eating more lunch. Lightheadedness stomped out the ambition to make my bushes look perfect again. My hat got stuck on a twig. I fumbled trying to catch myself. Doing a face plant was not my intention. With my nose in the plants and the strange suspicion of being watched, I carefully pushed myself up with the palms of my hands and backed out of the bushes. When I saw the size of the shadow I considered crawling back into the plant bed. My cheeks boiled with embarrassment.

  “Interesting,” he said.

  I snagged my hat stuck in the thin branches. When he offered me his hand, I took it. With a quick jerk, I was back on my feet.

  “Hi there. I’m John McIntyre, I believe we met the other day.”

  Like I could forget. I glanced over his shoulder to see if Chloe and Voodoo shadowed him. “Maggie Abernathy,” I replied in a quiet voice.

  “Do you have a minute?” he asked.

  Alarms clanged in my head. In the professional world of teaching, bad news usually follows that phrase. “I—”

  John gestured for me to come over to the stairs leading up to my porch. Hoping like hell he wasn’t going to invite himself inside, I sat on the top stair trying to regain my composure. My stomach dropped as he stood in front of me. I thought about telling him to let me have it, but I chose to sit quietly after assessing his rigid body language. I hadn’t noticed his muscular arms until now.

  I ventured a bet with myself that his laugh lines made him more handsome, but he’d have to smile for me to actually find out. I was pretty sure that wasn’t in the cards. Consumed with his pleasing build, I ignored his frowning mouth. I slumped forward, resting my elbows on my knees and my chin in my hands. I shrugged off the notion I probably looked like a seven-year-old ready for the lecture. I scrutinized his bald head wondering if he was naturally bald or if he shaved his head trying to avoid the conspicuous comb-over. My stomach tumbled at the thought of losing my hair. For him, it was a good look. I knew he was a professional with that white starched shirt and tie and I wondered if his patients were afraid of him. He was kind of burly.

  I leaned back trying to look nonchalant as I eyed the neighborhood, mostly for witnesses, credible witnesses, not seven-year-olds dragging a cat around on a noose, related to the assailant.

  John crossed his arms over his chest. “I think we need to set some rules.”

  I held his gaze. My spine prickled.

  “I think we have a problem,” he said.

  The muscles in my neck tensed. More like you have the problem and her name is Chloe. “I’m not sure what you’re getting at.”

  John’s eyes were emerald-green. He was very handsome. Too bad he was a jerk. I felt as if there should have been a table and a report card between us, shielding me from insanity.

  “Well it seems that you told my daughter to come home while Nora was napping and sneak treats. She’s lying in bed with a bellyache moaning and groaning. I was hoping that wasn’t the case. After all, we didn’t exactly get off to a great start the other evening.”

  My palms went clammy and my mind reeled with excuses. I pressed my lips together then decided not to pussyfoot around. “Unfortunately, I was being sarcastic and while Chloe does understand what it means to end a sentence with a preposition, she does not understand sarcasm.” I swallowed, trying to squelch the words percolating in my mind as well as the nerves in my belly. “I am very sorry she isn’t feeling well.” Just as pride filled my chest, I gazed up to see a flash of disdain in his gleaming eyes.

  He cleared his throat. “Excuse me.”

  My breath caught in my chest. I had no words.

  He shoved his hands in his pant pockets. The jangle of his keys even sounded irritated.

  I held his stare, unwilling to budge.

  “Well, Maggie Abernathy, I am thinking you are not a very good influence on my daughter. She is seven, you are—”

  I didn’t like the way his eyes inspected my face. I glared at him, warning him not to finish that thought.

  “She’s very impressionable. We have a nanny. There is no reason for her to be over here so much.”

  I rolled my eyes. Poor form, I knew, but really? “It’s not like I invited her. She just shows up and won’t leave.” I stifled my rising tone and my body stiffened. “Look, I teach children her age all year long, and when June hits, it’s my time for rejuvenation, and entertaining your daughter unexpectedly doesn’t fit into that plan. I’m going to be honest with you.” I stood, then took a step down, trying to even the playing field. “I’ve asked her politely to leave. She won’t. She hides in my bushes.”

  I pointed to my flattened plants. “She listens to my conversations. Maybe you should set the rules for her, I’ll be glad to follow them, too.” I crossed my arms in front of me.

  A shadow rolled over his green eyes like cloud cover. I watched him turn in his tracks and walk back home. How was I ever going to live next door to this family? Shit. First, my husband tells me he’s gay and we divorce. Then I am diagnosed with breast cancer, have to go through surgery and radiation, on my summer break, no less, then this guy comes over to tell me it’s my fault his daughter is at home not feeling well. I went inside and let the screen door slam on the year from hell.

  Turning around halfway up the stairs, I trotted back down in a huff, out the front door, picked up my mess, retrieved my hat then went back inside, and yet again, let the screen door slam behind me. This time I walked through the foyer, to the kitchen, poured myself a glass of wine, and took a deep breath. With one big swig, it was gone. I flicked on the television mounted on the counter, something Beckett had insisted on when he started taking cooking seriously. He said the Food Channel was a necessity. I knew he was full of it, but compromise is what marriage is all about, right? Funny, how that worked out.

  A cool breeze flooded the kitchen, and a shiver ran up my spine. I put on my summer cardigan then closed the patio doors.

  My face dropped at the sight.

  Chloe’s wrinkly chin quivered. The instant we made eye contact, she ran away.

  I hurried to the front door and stepped out onto the porch. I drew my sweater tight and waited for John to reappear on my doorstep. Looking west, the sun filled the sky with streaks the color of summer sherbet. Looking east, I peered through the hundred-year-old oak trees waiting for the breeze to move the branches in just the right direction so I could catch a glimpse of the cool lake, just blocks away, twinkling in the day’s last light. I waited for round two.

  When John didn’t show, I went back inside. To my left, the orange and red hues from the sunset flooded Beckett’s library. It was just as beautiful inside. The library was mine now, and I wasn’t sure what to do with it. Stifled emptiness took my breath away. I took Beckett’s journal off the shelf and sat in the middle of the room with my legs crossed waiting for Beckett’s ghost to call to me. Tonight, I missed his touch. I missed his sense of humor. I missed the man he was to me. I put the leather book in front of me and traced over the golden script reading Journal. I opened it up to page one.

  I read the date then the first few sentences. Damn him. He tugged at my heartstrings through words written twenty-two years ago. “Oh Beckett,” I whimpered, trying to catch my breath. Sorrow filled my chest. I spoke soft words to myself, feeling compassion for the man that’d left me. “This is all so unfair. How could you have done this to me, to yourself?” I pushed away the wet tresses of hair from my eyes. I wanted to hate him, but I couldn’t. It would be easier if I despised him.

  I took my wedding ring out of my pocket and set it on the floor next to me as I reread those first sentences trying to give myself time to decide to read furth
er or shut the book. My eyes blurred, but the words were etched in my brain. Bradley is one year old today. Bradley is a beautiful boy. I hope he takes after his mother. When I see how happy she is, I don’t have the heart to tell her.

  My hand jerked the book shut as the doorbell rang. I caressed the soft, worn covering. The journal fit perfectly into my cardigan pocket. When the bell rang again, I scrambled to my feet and searched the other pocket for tissue. I wiped at the corners of my moist eyes and sniffled.

  I switched on the foyer light, peered through the screen door, and swallowed my grief trying to prepare myself. Anguish scraped slowly over the lump in my throat. Maybe I shouldn’t have been so short with Chloe.

  I didn’t open the door, for the steely mesh screen was my veil. I waited for John to speak. This time he was wearing faded blue jeans, a faded T-shirt, and black Teva sandals. He almost looked human.

  “I just came over to say, I think, it would be best if we stayed to ourselves. I can’t change the fact that we are neighbors, but—” He dug in his pocket. “Here, take this.”

  I opened the screen door a crack. He slid the paper into my hand. His warm touch melted my cold fingertips. I read the names and numbers, however when I looked up into his green eyes, they were unreadable.

  “Call, and we will come get her,” he said.

  I stood silent.

  “Really, she shouldn’t be over here bothering you all the time,” John mumbled.

  His Adam’s apple bobbed. His words were soft, restrained, and firm. The deep tone of his voice sent a chill up my spine. His affect gave no clue to his true feelings. He turned to walk away, but before taking that first step down from the porch, he peered back at me, shooting me a steely glance, something I’ve seen before.

  I tucked the paper in my pocket and watched him leave. I contemplated his scowl of pity. I caressed the cold wedding band hidden in my pocket.

  Chapter 6

  I poured my second cup of coffee. In exactly six hours, I would be lying in a room padded with lead executing the dry run. The nurse’s words sounded like a military exercise. The angst settled in the pit of my stomach and I wondered why I took the last appointment of the day. I shook my head in disbelief. If I couldn’t tell my family and friends about the diagnosis, how could I admit it to myself? I flipped through my stack of business cards for my physician, the oncologist, the radiation oncologist, the surgeon, the dietician, the nurse, the physician’s assistant, the case manager, the social worker, and the wellness center that offered classes and massages to all cancer patients. I decided against making another appointment with the social worker.