He wanted to hold her again and this time wasn't even surprised at the strength of that desire. But it was more than wanting to feel her pressed close to him. He wanted to offer comfort and to somehow ease the confusion he read in her eyes. He didn't dare touch her though. Because one touch wouldn't be nearly enough.
"I should be sorry," he said softly and she turned her head to look at him. "It's my fault Jake didn't go straight home."
"I guessed as much," she said, a smile almost curving her mouth.
He walked closer, shoving his hands into his pockets. “I’m not sorry, though."
She laughed shortly. "And I'm not surprised."
"Maggie, that kid needs to run around. Get some fresh air. Have friends."
“I know that," she said quietly, still keeping her gaze on her son.
"I don't think you do,” he said and took up a spot beside her. He noted her hands, clutching at the folds of her apron. “When I was a kid, we moved around so much, I never had many friends. I know how lonely it is."
She shot him a glance. "So do I," she said, remembering her own childhood and the taunting and teasing she'd endured. "But at the same time, I have to think of his future." Her posture stiffened as she said, "His father was a complete wastrel. Kersey Benson never did an honest day's work in his life. And I want so much more for Jake. I want him—“ She shook her head and groped silently for the right words. "I want him to have a good life. To be someone. To have people look at him and know he's trustworthy. Reliable. He's got to learn responsibility now. Got to learn that work comes before play. That rules are there for a reason." Then she was quiet for a moment and muttered, "I can't find the words to tell you what I mean."
"You're worrying for nothing, Maggie," Gabe said. "He's a great kid," he added, looking out over the field to where Jake was taking his turn at bat. As he swung and missed, he said, "Not much of a hitter, but a great kid." He turned his gaze back to Maggie and said firmly, “He'll be a good man."
"Yes, he will," she said, "despite his father."
Gabe sighed and shook his head. "Tell me something.”
"What?"
"Are you like your father?”
Maggie frowned slightly and turned to look at him. He could see she was thinking about the question, really considering it. "No," she said at last. "My father is a wonderful man, but he's got a wanderlust in him. I like my home, being in the same place every morning and night.”
He nodded. "So, if you're nothing like your father, why should Jake be anything like his?"
She opened her mouth to argue the point, but after a second or two, she closed it again and smiled ruefully. “I see what you're saying."
He gave her a slow smile and said, "Good." Then he took her hand and led her closer to the field. "Now, how about we watch the game? You can finish painting later."
“How'd you—“ She stopped. "Oh.”
Gabe reached up and touched a slash of blue across her forehead. "It looks good on you."
"I’ll bet."
"Never bet with a gambler,” he warned her. “You’ll always lose."
She followed him, her hand warm in his. A brisk wind shifted across the pasture, but Maggie didn't feel the cold. Warmth and an unfamiliar sense of ease filled her. He was right, she thought and couldn't understand why she'd never thought of things in that way before. She'd worried so much about Jake and his future, she'd almost sacrificed his childhood. Hadn't she moved to town to help Jake belong? Hadn't she wanted this very thing for him?
"Run, Jake!" Gabe yelled when the little boy hit the ball and stood there, stunned motionless.
Maggie grinned as Jake suddenly realized what he should be doing and took off for first base, pumping his short legs as furiously as he could.
She looked at her son and realized that for the first time since moving to town, he looked utterly and completely happy. A sharp, bitter pang of regret echoed inside her and tears welled up in her eyes. In her quest for the future, Maggie had forgotten all about just how important being a child was. In worrying about tomorrow, she'd nearly lost today. She'd pushed them both so hard to belong, she'd lost the magic she and her little boy used to share.
Flashes of memory darted across her mind. Images of the times they'd had together when they were still on their farm. When she'd thought nothing of spending hours with Jake as they lay on their backs in a field watching faces in the clouds. When she wouldn't have traded a picnic and a day of fishing with her son for all the money and respect in the world. When it had been just the two of them and nothing was as important as time spent together.
How had she lost so much? she wondered and swallowed around, a tight knot in her throat. Blinking back tears, Maggie silently vowed to do things differently from now on. Looking at Jake's shining face as he stood proudly on first base, Maggie felt freer suddenly than she had since moving to town. It wasn't this town's acceptance that she needed to concentrate on. It was being the best mother she could be. If Jake loved her. If Jake became the man she wanted him to be, then nothing else mattered.
For the first time in two years, she forgot about what had to be done. She put work out of her mind and concentrated instead on a few simple joys. The wind on her face. Jake happily waving to her. And sitting on the grass beside Gabe.
For now, that was enough.
#
As always, the children's voices drew her.
Sugar stayed deep into the tree line so no one would see her and she wrapped her arms around her waist and held on tightly to compensate for the gnawing ache she felt within. The pain inside blossomed and grew as it always did when she watched the children play. But she had to be here. She needed to hear their voices, see their faces, even though being so near to them all was like rubbing salt in an old, festering wound.
She should have had children.
Would have, too, if she hadn't been so old when she married Redmond.
But then, it wasn't Redmond she was supposed to have married. It should have been different, she thought, squinting into the wind and focusing her gaze on one boy, smaller than the rest. Handsome child, she thought and let her gaze slide to the boy's mother, sitting on the grass as undignified as you please, with that man.
She looked just like her mother, Sugar thought, gritting her teeth and leaning into the quickening wind. Long hair, big eyes, and a wide mouth designed to tempt men from their rightful places.
The wind turned colder and bit at her flesh with gusty teeth. She shivered but she refused to leave. She wouldn't let that woman chase her away. This was her place. Her time to be with the children she should have had if she hadn't been cheated out of what was rightfully hers. No. She wouldn't lose this too. She would stay and watch the children.
Like always.
Chapter Eleven
Moonlight streamed in through the narrow window above his bed and Gabe stared blankly at the slice of silver piercing the darkness. He couldn't sleep. In fact had stopped trying. Throwing one arm behind his head, he let his mind wander, and naturally, it wandered straight to Maggie.
He couldn't get her out of his mind. Not that he wanted to, but he damned sure should. For both their sakes.
Grumbling to himself, he sat up and swung his legs off the side of the bed. Bracing his elbows on his knees, he cupped his head in his hands and speared his fingers through his hair, squeezing his skull between his palms as though, with enough pressure, he might push her from his mind. His heart.
But it wouldn't be that easy. Maggie wasn't the kind of woman a man forgot. Even when he was trying to. Hell, all he needed now was that damned Devil to show up and open the wound inside him a little wider. He lifted his head and looked to the darkest corner of the room, waiting for the man to show himself. When he didn't, Gabe figured even the Devil didn't have the stomach to be around a man as miserable as he was tonight.
"Damn it,” he muttered as he shoved himself to his feet, snatched up his pants, tugged them on, then walked barefoot to the window. Sighing, he
stared out at the street, craning his neck to look at the buildings lining the opposite side. Darkened windows stared back at him like blind eyes. The whole damn town looked as dead and lifeless as he felt.
Yet come morning light, the town would come to life again. And right now, inside those buildings were normal, everyday people, with normal, everyday problems. Not a damn one of them was dead and falling in love.
He snorted a choked-off laugh and caught sight of his own reflection in the glass. His gaze dropped to the scar at the base of his throat, a physical reminder of one fact he couldn't forget. His own hanging. Lifting his gaze again, he stared into his own eyes and saw a man at the end of yet another rope. Pitiful. He'd gone his whole life without running into a woman who had even come close to reaching him. And now, there was Maggie.
Images of her face flooded his mind. He remembered the shine of unshed tears in her eyes only that afternoon as she watched her son playing baseball. He'd expected an argument from her. Hell, he'd expected her to draw and quarter him for keeping Jake away from the extra schoolwork he was supposed to do each day.
"Wouldn't you know she'd surprise me," he muttered and turned away from the window, unwilling to look at either himself or the images of Maggie his mind insisted on drawing.
When a noise sounded from the kitchen, he grasped at the distraction eagerly. Crossing the small room in a few quick strides, he pulled the door open, stepped into the kitchen, and stopped dead.
Maggie whirled around to face him, one hand clutching at the base of her throat. Her incredible hair flew out in a wide arc around her only to settle down again and fall gently across her shoulders and down her back. She wore a white cotton nightgown that covered her completely from neck to toes, yet Gabe's senses leaped into life at the sight of her. A worn, pale green crocheted shawl lay atop her nightgown and was knotted between her breasts. Long fingers of fringe hung from the hem of the shawl and swayed as an echo to her quick movement.
She held a lit candle in one hand and by the wavering light of that tiny flame her eyes seemed huge and fathomless. She was a vision, a dream—and the fact that he couldn't have her made all of this a nightmare.
She lifted her free hand to clutch at the knot in the shawl and said breathlessly. "You have to quit scaring me like that."
A fleeting smile curved his lips and he nodded. “Sorry. But you kind of surprised me too. What are you doing down here in the middle of the night?”
What indeed? Maggie asked herself and clutched tighter to the pale green shawl she'd thrown over her nightgown. Fingers twisting in the knotted, crocheted threads, she stared at Gabe and knew the real reason she was standing here was him.
She hadn't been able to sleep. Every time she closed her eyes, she saw Jake again, smiling. Happy. Triumphant. And it hurt more than anything she'd ever known to admit that she'd had nothing to do with his happiness. That she owed her son's smiles to a man who'd known him little more than a few weeks.
And surrendering to that knowledge had brought Gabe's face to the front of her mind and she hadn't been able to rid herself of the image. Although she had to admit she hadn't tried very hard.
"I couldn't sleep," she finally said.
"Me neither," he said and stepped into the room.
It was only then she noticed that he was only half-dressed. He wore pants but no shirt and even his feet were bare, making this candlelit scene even more intimate somehow. Her own bare toes curled against the floor and she tried desperately to look away from the sculpted muscles of his chest. But he came closer, into the narrow circle of light, as if inviting her gaze.
Maggie took a deep breath and told herself it was foolish to be so…aroused. After all, she was a widow. She'd seen a shirtless man before. But, another, more traitorous corner of her mind pointed out, she'd never seen a chest quite so impressive. There didn't seem to be an ounce of extra flesh on his body. And his skin didn't have the same ghostly white pallor that her late husband's had.
Oh, beans and biscuits—damn. She could be in serious trouble very shortly. Her blood seemed to be simmering in her veins and even breathing wasn't as easy as it had been a couple of minutes ago.
In a desperate attempt to get control of the situation, she turned abruptly and asked. "How about some coffee? Or tea maybe?" Although just the thought of having to try to swallow at the moment was more than she could bear.
"No," he said. "Thanks.”
But she needed to be busy, so she set the candle down onto the table and walked past him toward the pantry. "Well, if neither of us wants anything, maybe I should just get a head start on the morning's chores."
""At midnight?” he asked and her footsteps faltered. At the pantry, she rested one hand on the doorjamb and glanced at him over her shoulder.
"I guess that would be silly, wouldn't it?"
"Yeah." He waved to a chair on the opposite side of the table from him and said, "Why don't you just sit down for a while, Maggie?"
Just sit there? In the dark? With him at arm's reach? Oh, that probably wasn't a good idea. She shook her head and said, "Maybe we should just go to bed."
Even in the half-light, she saw one of his eyebrows lift dangerously high. In the next instant, she realized just what that had sounded like.
"That's not what I meant,” she said.
"'That's quite an invitation," he said at the same time.
She gaped at him for a long second or two, then he grinned at her and she muttered, "Oh, beans and biscuits."
Shaking her head, she walked to the table and flopped down into the chair he'd indicated. Ridiculous, she thought, to be so nervous around him suddenly.
"So,” he asked, when she was sitting across from him, “why couldn't you sleep?"
A question with too many answers. She leaned forward and the fringe from her shawl fell onto the table. Idly picking at the wool threads, she tried to find the right words to answer his question without being completely truthful.
"I was thinking," she finally said, keeping her gaze on the frayed thread as her fingers plucked at it.
"About what?"
You, she wanted to say, but didn’t. That answer would only lead to more questions. Questions she couldn't—or wouldn't—answer now. Instead, she gave him a part of the truth. "About what you said today." She shot him a glance. He was leaning back in his chair, away from the candle's glow, keeping his face in shadow.
Just as well, she thought, admitting that she was a bit too vulnerable right now to be looking into those blue eyes of his.
“And?" he prompted.
"And," she repeated with a sigh, "you were right.”
"Always glad to hear that," he said. “What was I right about?"
Her fingers twisted a line of thread until it had wrapped itself around her fingertip tightly. “Damn near everything," she muttered.
He chuckled briefly. "You don't sound real happy about that.”
"I'm not," she admitted and stood up abruptly. Holding on to the knot of her shawl as if it was a lifeline, she paced back and forth across the darkened kitchen. Her bare feet made no sound, the soft glow of the candle was no more than a tiny circle of light in the shadows.
“What's wrong, Maggie?"
Shaking her head, she said, "Wrong? Me, that's what."
“Explain."
She wished she could. "I don't know," she started and once she'd actually begun speaking, words came tumbling from her mouth, falling over each other in their haste to be heard. “I thought I was doing what was best for Jake. Moving here"—she waved one arm at the kitchen—“trying so…damned hard to fit in."
"Maggie—“
"No." She lifted one hand to silence him. She didn't want to stop now. Saying all this out loud was actually helping. Making it all clear in her mind. "But today…." She stopped, wrapped her arms around her waist and closed her eyes. "Seeing him playing with the other kids, having so much fun—“ She sighed again and opened her eyes. “I really made a mess of everything, didn't I?"
>
“No."
One word. So sure. So confident. God, she wanted to believe him.
"No?" Maggie looked at him, wishing she could see his face, his expression.
“He's a good kid. He loves you."
"Yes, but—“
"No buts. You were doing your best. It's all anyone can expect."
"Maybe," she said, unwilling just yet to forgive herself for cheating both herself and Jake out of so much. How could she ever have believed that having a town approve of her was more important than time spent with her son?
What would it matter if all of Regret thought she was a paragon of virtue if Jake didn't even know her anymore?
"Before we moved to town," she said, more to herself than to him, "things were different." Maggie laughed shortly. "I was different."
"You could cook?"
"Not that different," she assured him, smiling.
"So, who were you then?"
"Me," she said simply, thoughtfully. "I was just me and I didn't worry about anything but taking care of Jake and myself."
“Sounds about right.”
"It does, doesn't it?” She looked at him. "And I miss that. Maybe even more than Jake does." Slowly, she walked back to the table and sat down again. Resting her forearms on the table, she leaned in and said, "Do you know how long it's been since I just sat in a field and did absolutely nothing?"
"Too long?" he asked and she could hear the smile in his voice even before he sat forward, bringing his face into the light.
“Far too long," she agreed. Somehow, sitting here in the darkness with him, it seemed easy to talk. Her earlier nervousness was gone now and she felt herself relaxing, enjoying the moment.
"So,” he said, giving her that half-smile that always served to curl her toes, "you've decided to not become a 'lady'?”
"Not exactly. I've just decided to be me."
“And to hell with what Regret thinks?"
“Well,” she said with a shrug, "I haven't exactly impressed them with my efforts to be ladylike. And heaven knows they're still staying away from my restaurant. So maybe I don't have anything else to lose by being myself."
Catch a Fallen Angel Page 13