I took the pancakes off the heat, stacked them on a plate, and poured eight more mounds of bubbling blueberry batter onto the griddle. “I like that one, too. Mostly because it has you in it.” Chloe held the photo by the corners and studied her mom’s face. Brook’s hair was tangled with the wind and Chloe had her arms wrapped around her mom from behind. They were laughing. I flipped the pancakes. “Almost done.”
Chloe sighed and cradled her face in her hands. “I fall for it every time,” she said, blowing hair out of her eyes.
I turned off the burner then added more pancakes to the stack and set them in front of Chloe. “What do you mean?” I asked.
“This isn’t the first time my mom has done this.” Chloe plucked some pancakes from the platter and put them on her plate. “She’s done this twice before. Says she’s taking me and then doesn’t. I should be used to it by now.”
“Oh.” I put some pancakes on my plate, came around the counter, and sat down next to her. “Syrup?” I asked, handing her the bottle.
“Will you pour it? When I do, it always dumps out and then I get soggy pancakes.” She sniffed her plate.
“Sure.” I drizzled squiggly lines of syrup for her. “Is that enough?”
“Whoa, you’re good,” she praised. “I know I might look like the kind of kid who loves lots of syrup, but I actually prefer my pancakes a little dry. Don’t want to drown the yummy blueberries.” She plopped a loose berry into her mouth and smacked her lips.
“Twice before, huh?” I said, taking a bite.
“Yeah, once last Christmas when we lived at our old house and once when I was in kindergarten. I don’t know why she does it. I must do something bad,” Chloe said, shoving a forkful of pancake into her mouth.
I swallowed. “I don’t think that’s the reason.”
“It’s weird how she just leaves. At least this time she left a note.”
I took another bite pondering Beckett and his father, Chloe and her mom, thinking how lucky I was to never have experienced that thread of heartache. “I’m going to go out on a limb here.” I paused, reminded myself that Brook was Chloe’s mother, and to tread lightly. “I think she just knows that your dad can take good care of you while she’s working. Maybe that’s the way it’s supposed to be,” I offered.
“I don’t know, but I gotta remember this for next time. It stinks.” She pouted.
“I have to admit, California would have been fun,” I said.
“Maybe.” Chloe chewed an oversized bite of pancake, a drip of syrup dribbled down her chin. Her cheeks swelled. “These pancakes are delicious.” She dropped a bite down to Bones who was hovering around her like a preying alligator ready to snap. His bottom teeth jutted out. “There you go, boy,” she said, glancing down in time to see him gobble up the morsel. “He likes them, too,” she chirped. “You should send my mom the pictures. She’s going to need them. She needs a lot of things.”
“That way she can see you every day,” I told her.
“That just sounds like something a grown-up would say just to keep a kid out of pression.”
“What?” I asked, shoveling in another bite.
“You know, pression. When you’re sad all the time.”
“Oh, you mean depression.”
“That’s what I said,” Chloe said, hitting the palm of her hand against her forehead. “Geez.”
I swabbed up the trickle of syrup left on my plate with my last bite. “Okay then, let’s send them.”
Chloe shrugged. “I can hang one on the wall of my room and put another one in my diary.”
“Sounds like a great idea. Besides, what would I do with pictures of your mom?”
“Throw eggs at them,” Chloe suggested.
“You wouldn’t.” I narrowed my eyes and eyed her through my lashes.
“I’m pretty mad at her. You never know,” she said with wrinkled brow.
“I’d be mad, too, but I don’t think I’d throw eggs at my mom’s picture. That’s kind of mean.”
Chloe ate the last bite of her breakfast. “Do you think she thought about me when she left me here?” Her voice cracked as she pushed her plate away then reached for the stack of photographs.
“Wait, can you please wipe off your hands?” I asked, stopping her. “I’m sure she thinks about you more than you know.”
Chloe rubbed her hands on a napkin.
“Thanks for spending the night with me. I really like your pup tent,” I said.
“I knew you would.”
“We better get dressed. Your dad will be here soon.”
Chloe’s lips turned down. “Bummer.”
John knocked at the door an hour later. “Maggie,” he called.
“I’m upstairs. Just a second.”
John was dismantling the tent in the living room when I came down.
“Chloe’s outside running around with Bones.” John pulled the poles out of the sleeves. “Chloe said you are going to send Brook’s photos to her. That’s awfully nice of you.”
“Yeah, I’d like to take credit, but it was Chloe’s idea.”
His eyes flashed. “Brook’s not stable, you know. It’s probably better this way anyway.”
“Do you think?” I folded up Chloe’s sleeping bag. “Would you ever consider getting back together with her?”
He stopped in his tracks and his green eyes flashed. “No. We’ve talked about this before,” he said sternly.
I picked Voodoo up from the floor. “Sorry, I just want to make sure.”
“Maggie, Maggie, Maggie,” he mumbled, shaking his head.
I knew he thought I was foolish. I squeezed my eyes shut momentarily, tried to compose myself, and hide the heat in my cheeks. He put his hands on my waist. I waited for Chloe’s intrusion.
“I will never go back to that. We were never a good match.”
“Why?” I said, trying to escape his dark expression.
“Maybe you should let it go. I did.” John rubbed his temples. “You’re exasperating,” he moaned through clenched teeth.
I smiled just a little bit. “I know. Last night, I told Chloe that I was the annoying one.”
John put his hands on my shoulders. A thin smile passed over his lips. “I meant what I said. I think we should give this a try. I know you’re scared, but damn, woman, let it go, let it all go.”
“I don’t know if I can. I don’t want to hurt Chloe.”
The words barely escaped my lips, and he was out the door.
“Anyone in here?” Mom called through the house.
“Great.” I slouched down into the sofa as far as I could go, thinking maybe she’d disappear.
“Apparently, I missed a good time last night.” She walked around in front of me. “What’s the long face for? Everything okay?”
“What’s wrong with me?” I asked. “John’s a perfectly nice man and I can’t even—” Emotion choked me. I put the throw pillow on my face, letting out a shriek. “I am such a dork.”
The couch shifted as Mom sat down. She patted my knee.
“You’re not a dork by any means. Maybe a little off, confused, but not a dork, honey, and yes, John’s a nice man, and very handsome. And no, I don’t know what you’re waiting for. Nothing will ever be perfect. You already had that and he turned out to be gay.”
I peeked out from behind the pillow covering my eyes. Mom leaned her head back against the sofa.
“Marjorie Jean,” she said with a sigh. I’m not getting any younger and neither are you.” She squeezed her eyes shut. “What in Lord’s name do you have to lose?
I believed she was praying. I covered my face again with the pillow. “Everything,” I said.
“You’re not going to lose everything. Quit with the theatrics and get on with your life. God didn’t put you on this earth to live in this big house alone forever.”
“Easy for you to say,” I retorted. “You live alone, and you’re fine.” Warm surges flooded my body. I uncovered my face and inte
rcepted my mother’s scowl.
She huffed. “Have it your way,” she said as she got up. “Sometimes you just have to take a chance.”
Chapter 37
Rain pounded against the roof. The weather forecast hadn’t predicted rain, but then again, it was Michigan. Bones huddled under my desk at my feet. Keeping focused proved difficult knowing Chloe was next door mourning the loss of her mother. My phone chimed with a text. I peered over the top of my glasses to read it.
Chloe wants to know if she can still go to dog classes with you now that she is staying home with me. She knows you went again without her.
I typed back my answer. Yes. Class is tomorrow night at 6:00. I added a winking smiling face. I put the phone down then picked up my paintbrush. I dipped it in the orange paint. My phone chimed again. I poked at the screen with one finger to read John’s next message.
Are you mad at me?
A wild grin crept across my lips contemplating the possibility. I tapped at the letters on the screen. I thought you were the one who was mad at me. I pressed the send button.
I waited for a response, as I continued painted my orange Halloween cows. John didn’t respond.
The doorbell rang.
Thunderclouds rolled overhead.
I answered the front door.
John stood on the porch with his hands stuffed in his pockets, his shoulders dotted with water spots. “Can I come in?”
I pushed the screen door open. “Sure.”
He took his hands out of his pockets and closed the door quietly behind him as he closed the distance between us. I held my ground. Our eyes locked. “Where’s Chloe?” I whispered as John leaned into me and put his hands on my waist.
“She’s with the Mark Spitz boys, as you call them. There are two new boys on Harry and Walter’s block and they’re all playing in some fancy treehouse. Chloe said something about hunting for fairies and magic pebbles.”
I smiled. “Sounds like fun.” The weight of John’s body rested on mine. Electricity sparked behind his green eyes. “What’s this all about?” Anticipation filled my belly.
“This,” he whispered.
His lips grazed mine. I let my hands wander across his chest as I searched his eyes. He held me close. “I can be stubborn, too. You are messing with the wrong man.”
His breathy words tickled my ear. “I know,” I replied. I swallowed away hesitation before kissing him. When I opened my eyes, John was staring at me.
“Now, we’re getting somewhere,” he said, brushing back stray curls from my face.
“I just don’t want—” I paused, searching his eyes for understanding.
He put his finger on my lips. “Stop worrying, Maggie. If it is meant to be, it will work out.”
Focusing on his stare, I tuned the world out around me. “But Chloe—”
“Shush,” he whispered. “I know you don’t want to hurt Chloe. We will take baby steps.”
I closed my eyes. I was always the good girl. I did what I thought was expected. I made sure everyone around me was okay. Now, I teetered on the edge of unconventionality.
John stood before me with blazing green eyes, a horseshoe tattoo on his left shoulder, and words of promise. I was a middle-aged woman with a grown son being chased by a handsome neighbor with a seven-year-old daughter. Mom’s voice rang in my head, urging me to let go of my perfect ideals.
John caressed my cheek then kissed my forehead.
In that moment, the past slipped away as my heart beat wildly, and I surrendered.
Maggie’s journey continues in: Maggie’s Fork in the Road
Maggie's Way (Montana Bound Series Book 1) Page 26