Maggie's Way (Montana Bound Series Book 1)

by Bradley, Linda

I snickered. “Yeah. I haven’t told you, but something happened at the clinic during my first visit.” I saw panic as my mother lowered her gaze and the vein pulsated in her right temple.

  “Nothing bad, Mom.”

  “Don’t scare me like that. I don’t think I could live without you.”

  Goosebumps covered my arms as a shiver ran down my spine. Sun danced across our picnic blanket as the trees swayed to the summer beat. I smiled, believing it was Dad just stopping by to say hello and I love you. I knew what my mother meant. “I know. Sorry if I’m a pain in the ass.”

  “Me, too,” she said.

  My jaw dropped. “Can I get that in writing?”

  “Ha-ha, very funny. And no,” she replied. “This is off the record. A child needs to know that parents are human from time-to-time. I’ve made my fair share of mistakes, but you’ve always been my baby, my only baby.” Her eyes twinkled.

  “Thanks, Mom. I know what you mean. Bradley is everything to me, too. I couldn’t bear for anything to happen to him.” Unexpected emotion came over me, and I had to swallow away the sudden sign of tears. I detested this hormonal rollercoaster. “I love him so much.”

  “Beckett gave you a gift. Don’t be mad at him forever,” she advised.

  I grimaced. I knew I wouldn’t be, but I wasn’t ready for my mother to see my soft side yet, another trait I inherited from my dad. Stoic on the outside, soft on the inside, especially when it came to kin. “Did you ever resent my relationship with Dad? He was always so attentive and gave me special treatment when I was a good girl.”

  Mom smiled. “Marjorie Jean, you’re a silly one. Your daddy loved you fiercely. He’d fight tooth and nail for you alive or in the heavens.”

  “What?” I asked, trying to read her mind.

  “I got special treatment, too, when I was his good girl,” she said, cheeks reddening.

  “Stop right there, Glad,” I commanded, as I covered my ears. “Not something I need to know.” I peered down into my T-shirt. The black dot between my breasts bothered me. Scarred for life. So many scars. So many reminders. “So do you want to hear what happened to me or not?”

  “Sure. What happened? I’m still upset that you didn’t tell me about the cancer when you first found out.”

  “Whatever. You know now.” I unscrewed the cap of my water bottle and chugged the cold drink. “I haven’t told anyone. Don’t want them to think I am crazy.”

  “We know you are crazy.” Mom chuckled.

  “Thanks, Mom. I get it from you,” I answered without hesitation. “Seriously. There was a cane.”

  “A cane?”

  I took a deep breath. “I was the last one for radiation that day. After I checked in at the window, they found a walking cane on the floor. And no one claimed it.”

  “Go on.” She waved a hand.

  “Mom, it had a name on it. They checked physician rosters and there were no patients with the name. They called the phone number on the masking tape and no one lived at that number by that name” A familiar chill washed over me, a sense of relief in the aftermath. “There was a name scratched in the paint. Walter James.” I lowered my glasses and stared at my mom. I expected shock. She smiled as she pushed her hair away from her face then fixed her blouse. Her eyes glistened.

  “He’s a good one to go with you, dear. He was always there, when you needed him most,” she stated. “God, I miss him, but I know he’s here. He’s in the shimmer on the water. He’s in the sun warming our faces. He’s with you, darling girl. He’s with you.”

  “I know.”

  The edge of the napkins fluttered as the breeze picked up.

  “He knows we know,” Mom said, putting another stone on top of the pile so they didn’t blow away.

  In that moment, the world felt right. Thankful for my family and life, I didn’t dislike Beckett. I untwisted my ponytail holder. The wind caught my hair blowing it back away from my face. I checked down my T-shirt once more to see if the black dot between my breasts was still there. It was, but I didn’t care. I knew I could handle just about anything that came my way, even if it was Chloe and her beach-a-licious mom sauntering toward us. I caught Mom’s glance. “What?”

  “Be nice,” she mumbled.

  I grinned. “I am not that horrible. You just said so.” I snickered, but the sight of Brook in her black bikini mesmerized me. “Seriously, how did she get that body?” I tried to picture Chloe strutting around like her mom, something I didn’t feel comfortable doing. Brook took the ponytail holder from her wrist and tied her hair up onto the top her head in a messy bun. It wasn’t fair. She sat at the edge of the blanket in the sun. Her skin glowed with a summer tan or maybe it was a Hollywood spray-on. I checked for streaks and orange creases. I didn’t see any. I couldn’t imagine John not wanting to be married to such a beauty. I plucked a few green grapes from the bunch in front of me and started popping them in my mouth. They were dry and sour.

  “Should have brought wine,” I said, reaching for my water bottle. “Thought these were supposed to be sweet and juicy.” A raunchy image ran through my mind.

  Brook sucked at the end of a strawberry before biting off the tip. The image in my head went from raunchy to pornographic. Maybe she’s practicing to be a porn star. Stop it, Maggie! I glanced over to my mother, who wasn’t paying attention to the big girls at all. Her eyes were glued on Chloe. That was a mother’s job, twenty-four-hour surveillance. Brook appeared nonchalant about the whole parenting role, but then again, maybe I was wound a little too tight. I wanted her to seem as if she cared more, for Chloe’s sake. Chloe deserved that.

  Brook pushed her Gucci glasses up onto her forehead. Rhinestones twinkled in the afternoon light. Even without makeup she was beautiful. Why are you obsessed? I knew why. What could John ever see in me if he was with that? Brook was flawless. I was flawed. I adjusted my sunglasses. “These Ray Bans just aren’t cutting it anymore,” I said, trying to fill the void knowing I wouldn’t ever give up the glasses I’d saved my money for.

  “I bought mine on Rodeo Drive,” Brook said.

  Did she spend John’s money or her own?

  “Honey, do you feel okay?” my mom asked as she touched my hand.

  This time, I got the hint. I changed my facial expression. “I’m okay, just a little hot.” I chugged the rest of my water, then reached for a fresh bottle in the cooler.

  Brook cleared her throat. She leaned back on her elbows with her nose to the sky. My mom glanced from me to her, and my shoulders tensed. I didn’t think Brook intuitive enough to figure me out. If she was, she was one cool customer.

  “So,” she started.

  I reached into the bag of Oreos. The crinkling sound of plastic interrupted her thought.

  She opened her eyes and stared in my direction. “So, you have a thing for my ex-husband, I hear.”

  I swallowed hard. This was precisely why I didn’t want to come today, I wanted to scream at my mother for making me come here. My cheeks burned. What was I supposed to say to that? I ate another Oreo. Who did she think she was?

  “Chloe was really upset when she saw you two kissing. You really should be more careful. She’s young, you know. She doesn’t need this right now. None of us do,” Brook said.

  I stood up, straightened my skirt, and picked up my bag. “I’ll meet you at home, Mom.” I tossed her the keys to the Equinox. “You and Chloe will need a ride home. I’ll walk. It’s up to you whether you want to give Brook a ride or not.”

  Brook’s smirk caught my eye and rattled my instincts. My mom sat speechless. She blinked away the shock as Brook broke the tension long enough to examine her tan lines near the strings on her bikini bottoms.

  “Not here, not now. Chloe doesn’t need this. Tell her I didn’t feel good,” I muttered.

  Mom put up her hands in exasperation. “What did I miss?”

  “Ask Brook. She seems to have the four-one-one.” I started to leave, but stopped in my tracks and turned around. “He k
issed me. I didn’t mean for anything to happen.” And then I felt Brook’s agenda as her eyes twinkled with mischief. “You’re right, Chloe doesn’t need this, but she needs a mother who cares.”

  “Marjorie Jean,” my mother huffed.

  Creases marked Brook’s perfect forehead. I felt a sense of pride. She’d probably have the lines botoxed back in Hollywood, along with her pouty lips.

  “Hey,” Brook said, standing up.

  My mother’s face was struck with fear as she continued checking on Chloe to make sure she wasn’t paying attention to our catfight.

  “Look,” I said, “Chloe begged me to come here today. Obviously, it wasn’t a good idea. You two finish the picnic although I think my mother would rather crawl under a rock after my little display, but let me tell you something, Brook. I didn’t choose to live next door to your ex-husband and your daughter. Chloe sought me out, not the other way around. I’m not sure how you fit into the picture, nor do I really want to know at this point. Your daughter is out there. She won’t be little forever. You can chose to chastise me, but I think your time might be better off spent on her.” I turned to my mom and took off my sunglasses.

  “I’m sorry, Mom. I didn’t mean to embarrass you. I hope you and Chloe can somehow finish the day on a positive note.” I turned to Brook who looked deflated. “Brook, I hope, you can somehow find it in your heart not to take this out on my mom. She is very sweet. She loves your daughter. And with that, I am going home.” I eyed Brook, slid my Ray Bans onto the bridge of my nose, slung my beach bag over my shoulder, then started marched off.

  With my head held high, I followed the path out of the park, up the hill, and home. The painters were cleaning up as I strolled up the stairs. The screen door creaked as I opened it.

  Beckett was in the living room directing Paul’s project. His voice penetrated the empty space as he chatted with them. Of course, he knew just as much about painting as they did. Funny, how he became an expert on most things as the years passed by. Funny, how I never admitted how much it bugged me until now.

  “Hi, Beckett,” I said, sauntering past him. I dropped my beach bag on the floor. Sweat dripped from my forehead and armpits, my shirt stuck to my back. I trotted upstairs. I yelled back over my shoulder ignoring his presence, “You are going to have to wait.”

  I began stripping, leaving a trail of garments down the hallway to my bedroom. Locking the door behind me, I went into the bathroom, inspected myself in the mirror, and patted my flushed cheeks. I ran tepid water in the shower then stepped out of my underwear, checking for all the little black tattoos. They were still there. I stuck my tongue out at them, and immersed myself into the cool shower that took my breath away like the birth of my son, the cane at the cancer center, my mother’s honesty at the park, Chloe’s lack of personal space, the news that I had cancer, and the memory of John’s kiss. The scent of Hawaiian soap transported me to a Maui beach under a palm tree, far, far away from the craziness that surrounded me. The trickle running down my back eased the tension.

  I let the water run over me until I was cooled down.

  My brush caught in my wet hair, but I managed to smooth it out and tie it up on top of my head in a messy bun, like Brook. Mine looked just as good. I wrapped a towel around my torso and went back into my bedroom half expecting Beckett to be knocking at my door. He could be so impatient. I slipped into fresh undergarments and a black sundress that covered me in all the right places. Before heading back downstairs, I slipped on my favorite Havaiana flip-flops. Mom had glasses, I had shoes.

  “All done for the day, Maggie,” one of the painters said as he walked out the front door with an unlit cigarette dangling from his lips. “We’ll be back tomorrow, same time. See ya’ then.” He nodded.

  “See ya,” I said as I headed into the living room. Drop cloths speckled with paint protected the floor. A fresh dark khaki hue covered the walls. They’d finish the trim tomorrow. The ceiling beams majestic as ever.

  Beckett exuded his usual perfect appearance. “You know what, Beckett?” I saw a flash of panic cross his brow. He hated conflict as much as I did, but then again, I was on a role. What did I have to lose? I felt myself loosen my grip on the reins of my life. “Relax,” I continued, “I’m not sure why you’re here—”

  “Paul said—”

  I put up my hand. “Just let me finish. “I’m not sure why you’re here, but I don’t care anymore.”

  Beckett stuffed his hands in his pockets and a thin smile crossed his thin lips. “Okay.”

  “But, why are you here? Or don’t I want to know?” Bradley once told me he thought his father was fragile. My heart warmed thinking of my son’s observation. Bradley also once said I was tough, braver than anyone he knew. I should have listened to him and believed in myself long ago. Today was honest proof.

  “I thought I’d check out the progress. I wanted to apologize for being so pushy.” Beckett ran his hand over the mantle. “I just want you to be okay. I’m sorry. And I’ll quit pushing.”

  “Thanks. That’s all I want. I need my space.”

  “Maggie, I know you need space.”

  I turned toward the front window. The lawn needed to be mowed again. “I feel guilty.”

  Beckett stood next to me. “Why? You didn’t do anything wrong.”

  I swallowed hard to dislodge the lump in my throat then faced my ex-husband. “Part of me wanted out, too,” I said. “I’m sorry.” My head drooped. I covered my face with my hands. I couldn’t bear to look him in the eyes.

  Beckett took my hands down from my face. He held them to his chest. Years ago, my heart would have melted for that kind of attention.

  “Maggie, I know.”

  “Why didn’t you say something sooner?”

  “I wasn’t ready. And I didn’t think you were ready either,” he said, gripping my hands tighter.

  “Oh, Beckett.” I freed my hands. “Our foolishness got the best of us.”

  “Maybe,” he murmured. “But we have Bradley and he’s pretty terrific.”

  I wiped away the tears at the corner of my eyes. I couldn’t help but smile. “Yes, we do. That, we do.” Beckett’s eyes flashed with understanding. “By the way, you left a journal behind. It’s on the shelf in the library.”

  “I know. I left it for you. You can read it,” he said. “When you’re ready.”

  “That may be a while,” I said. “That may be never.”

  Beckett pulled his car keys from his pocket. “Your choice, Maggie.”

  “I’d better go check on the beast in the backyard.”

  “Yeah. He’s pretty cool. We played fetch earlier. Good dog. You would never let Bradley get a pet. What gives?”

  “His name is Bones. He’s a gift from my mother,” I stated, as I crossed my arms over my chest.

  “Still, he’s a great dog. Maybe it’s about time you had a canine companion.”

  “Maybe. I really should go,” I said.

  “Yeah, me, too,” Beckett said as he headed for the door.

  Chapter 21

  “What did you think was going to happen?” I snarled at my mother. “Did you think we were going to hold hands and sing ‘Kumbaya?’” I opened the fridge then grabbed the tomatoes from the counter. “I wouldn’t have to buy these,” I said, shaking them at my mother, “If it weren’t for that dog.” Bones barked at me as he danced on his back legs trying to get them from me. “Down.” I hissed, opening the crisper drawer, and dropping them in. I huffed then stopped ranting long enough to notice Mom’s expression. “Sorry,” I said, realizing how awful I was being.

  Mom shook her head as she measured out the coffee and dumped it into the filter. Her lips turned down, her eyes sad. I took the scoop from her and put it in the sink. “I’m not handling this all very well. It’s not you. It’s me. Don’t you think I know that?” I muttered. “You were just trying to do the right thing. How would you have known that John kissed me and Chloe saw? And then there’s Brook, who
no doubt is wondering what the hell is going on.” I stopped to breathe. “Everything is such a mess. I can’t stand myself.”

  I let the faucet run, filled my hands with foaming soap that smelled like raspberries, then scrubbed away the day. Steam wafted up over my face. “God, I hate these hot flashes,” I crabbed under my breath, pushing the hair back from my face after drying my hands on the kitchen towel. “What?” I shrugged at Mom’s silence. “What?”

  “You are a mess,” she said matter-of-factly.

  “Well thank you, thank you very much.”

  “Seems you know everything. Although I did like the speech you gave Brook at the beach. She should pay more attention to her daughter. She shouldn’t live so far away, but maybe it’s best for their family.”

  “Maybe.”

  “You didn’t do anything wrong.”

  “Wait. You’re on my side?” I questioned as I stuffed shopping bags under the sink.

  “Jesus, Maggie, I’m always on your side.”

  I stopped and went over to where Mom stood next to the counter. Together, we basked in the aroma while watching the slow drip of coffee plop into the pot. I put my arm around Mom’s shoulder before hugging her. “Thanks, Mom.”

  “No worries,” she whispered in my ear. “We’re all entitled to lose our minds once in a while.”

  “You seem shorter,” I said, as we held on to each other.

  “Gee, thanks,” she grunted.

  “It’s what I am here for.” I unglued myself from her side. “But I will have you know I was nice to Beckett today. I think I can bury that hatchet, as Grandma used to say.”

  “Good girl,” she said, touching my cheek. “You are so worried about what other people think. Screw them. Do what’s right for you. I’m tired of watching you wallow. It’s your time.”

  “Thanks, Mom.”

  “That’s what mommas are for, but I already think you knew that,” she said as she poured herself a cup of coffee. “Now, let’s get to the good stuff.”

  I raised my eyebrow in her direction.

  “Tell me what happened with that handsome doctor.”