Bringing Maggie Home

by Kim Vogel Sawyer

  She coiled her arms around Daddy’s neck and closed her eyes. When the drink wore off he probably wouldn’t remember asking the question. Wouldn’t remember her answer. He might even ask her again, and if he did, she’d tell him the same thing to ease his mind. She’d even forgive him for tipping up that bottle and getting himself pickled after promising to never touch another drop of whiskey.

  But she’d never forgive herself for doing what she did to drive him to it.

  Present Day

  Kendrickson, Nevada

  Diane

  Diane sat on the edge of the turned-down bed and smeared face cream on her neck and chest. In the adjoining bathroom—what Mother called the en suite—Meghan bathed with her cast propped on the edge of the tub. Diane wanted to crawl under the covers. The two long days on the road with four dogs, each with its own bladder schedule, had worn her out. Not to mention the tension of being in her mother’s house.

  She’d sleep tonight, though. The over-the-counter sleeping pill she’d taken an hour after dinner was kicking in. Fuzziness clouded her brain. But she didn’t dare lie down until she’d helped her daughter. Good thing she’d come. How would Mother lift Meghan from that slippery tub?

  She had to admit, Mother looked good for almost eighty. Her snow-white hair was cut in a stylish bob, and the always-present touch of blush and slash of pale pink lipstick gave her a youthful glow. Still slender, always dressed impeccably. Thanks to Daddy’s settlement with the railroad—getting hit by a passenger train that wasn’t supposed to be on the track netted more than most people could earn in a dozen lifetimes—they’d never had to scrimp. Every top name brand available filled the hangers in their closets. Her friends always envied her and her voguish mother. But they didn’t envy the way Mother hovered, always watching, worse than a stalker from a late-night television movie.

  “Mom? I’m done.”

  Diane gave a start. She pushed herself upright and held her hands to the dogs, who rolled from their prone positions at the foot of the bed into pounce mode. “Stay.” She waited until they flopped back into a furry heap. Then she crossed to the bathroom.

  Meghan was standing, one foot in and one out of the tub with a towel wrapped around her from armpit to midthigh. Diane couldn’t hold back a laugh.

  “You remind me of the junior high PE girls who were always worried about someone seeing their naked tushies.”

  Meghan snickered. “I covered up ’cause the AC was a little much after my warm bath.” She held out one arm. “Just let me lean on you so I don’t put weight on my broken ankle. Don’t try to lift me.”

  Diane slipped her arm around her daughter’s slender waist and planted herself on the rectangular throw rug while Meghan swung her other leg out of the bathtub. “I don’t know why Mother requested tubs when she had this house built. A shower with a chair is safer than trying to climb in and out of these things. That’s all they offer in retirement homes.” At least the ones she’d explored online offered only showers.

  “But you can’t take a bubble bath in a shower.” Meghan leaned against the counter and grabbed a second towel. She began rubbing her long hair. “I’ll have to ask if she still keeps bubbles around like she did when I was little.”

  Diane yawned and stretched. “Knowing her, she does. She’s always done every little thing she could to spoil you and win your favor.”

  Meghan frowned. “Mom…”

  “Admit it. She always spoiled you rotten.” Which is probably why Meghan had begged to spend weeks every summer with her grandmother even though Diane had the entire season free from her classroom. “Why else would you decide to spend your whole medical leave with her instead of in your own comfortable apartment, where I was close by to help you?”

  Meghan shot her a puzzled look. “Maybe because I haven’t seen her in forever.”

  “I know. That’s what you said when you called to tell me you’d booked a flight. I seem to recall you also said”—she gritted her teeth to hold back another yawn—“you hoped this would be the start of a new routine of spending all of your vacations in Nevada with your grandmother.” The jealousy still roiled in Diane’s stomach. That’s when she’d decided to go to Kendrickson, too. She wasn’t about to surrender Meghan to her mother without a fight.

  “You have to admit, Las Vegas is a great vacation spot.” Meghan flopped the towel over the rack and reached for her hairbrush. “Besides, how many more years will Grandma be around? I need to spend as much time with her as I can while she’s still here.”

  All the more reason to get Mother situated in a room at a retirement home. If she didn’t have a house available, Meghan would be less likely to make lengthy yearly treks. Diane toyed with the frayed edge of the toilet paper roll. “I’m surprised she can still keep up with the responsibility of this house, considering her age.”

  Meghan, working the brush through her wet hair, glanced at Diane in the mirror. “She’s actually pretty spry. Funny, I don’t think she’s changed a bit since the last time I saw her. Still so stately and beautiful. Kinda lets us know what we’ll look like when we reach eighty. We’ll still be hotties.” She grinned and waggled her eyebrows.

  “Please…” Diane yawned again, not bothering to hide this one. “I don’t want to think about being eighty.”

  “It beats the alternative.”

  Diane shook her head. “What alternative?”

  “Dying young.” Meghan gripped a handful of hair and battled a snarl. “Grandma’s kind of beaten the odds in her family, hasn’t she? Both of her parents died when they were, what, in their sixties?”

  Diane shrugged. “I can’t remember how old they were. I know her dad was gone before I was born—drank himself to death. And her mother died when I was two or three.”

  Meghan’s lips formed a sympathetic pout. “Sad. They couldn’t have been old at all. And then your dad died at forty-seven.”

  Pain stabbed even though the loss was more than three decades old. “He died in an accident. That hardly counts. He might’ve lived to be eighty if he wasn’t out working his tail off so Mother could stay home and smother me.”

  Meghan drew back. Her hand holding the hairbrush went still. “Wow. Where’d that come from?”

  Diane flung her arms wide. “From the depth of my soul.” The pill was making her loopy. She should go to bed.

  Meghan’s jaw dropped. “You don’t really blame Grandma for your dad’s death, do you? She didn’t send that train on the track.”

  “Of course she didn’t. She never did anything wrong.” Diane pressed the heels of her hands against her eyes. Color exploded behind her closed eyelids, a private display of fireworks. Why did all these emotions well up every time she came in proximity to her mother? She’d think all was well—that she’d put the past to rest—and then she’d look into her mother’s face, and the resentment and irritation and bitterness would fill up and spill out. If observation wasn’t necessary to prove her mother was at an age not to be trusted living alone, she’d return to Arkansas first thing in the morning.

  She dropped her hands and took a step toward the bedroom. “I’m sorry. I’m just very, very tired.”

  Meghan caught her arm and held tight. “Mom, help me understand something that’s bothered me for as long as I can remember. It’s obvious you don’t want to be around Grandma. You’ve always made every excuse to stay away on holidays and only came when I begged or cried. What did she do that was so bad? Did she beat you?”

  Diane shook her head.

  “Batter you emotionally?”

  “No.”

  “Neglect you?”

  “No!”

  “Then what? Why do you dislike her so much?”

  There were things she could’ve said, things she wanted to say, but she couldn’t think straight. The pill…it was stealing her ability to form a coherent sentence. “I need to go to bed.” She wriggled her arm.

  Meghan held tight. “No, tell me. What did she do?”

  Diane br
oke loose with such force she lost her balance. She stumbled sideways, slammed her elbow on the doorjamb, then grabbed hold of the stained trim with both hands. The dogs leaped off the bed and surrounded her, whining and jumping on her legs. She bounced her foot, sending them scuttling for the bedroom again.

  “Mom?”

  Diane huffed. “She ruined my childhood, all right? I couldn’t have a normal childhood at all because of her and her…domineering, controlling, overly protective to the point of paranoia ways. She suffocated me with her presence.”

  Meghan stared at her as if she’d lost her mind.

  Diane grimaced and ran her hand through her hair. “You wouldn’t understand. But when I get around her, I remember all the nos and the don’ts and the stay-heres and be-carefuls. I remember how I couldn’t breathe. I remember, and it affects me.” She barked out a harsh, humorless laugh. “I guess you never really get over the hurts of your childhood.”

  “Some people do. And some people don’t.” Meghan’s expression turned pensive. Wise beyond her years. “I guess it’s a choice we make.”

  Her head was beginning to throb. “Do you need my help anymore?”

  “No, I’m fine, thanks.”

  “All right, then. Good night.” She turned and walked stiffly into the bedroom, flopped onto the bed, and pulled the sheet to her chin.

  Six

  Meghan

  Mom was already snoring by the time Meghan got the snarls out of her hair and wrestled herself into pajamas. The dogs lay in a row at Mom’s feet, two on their sides, two on their stomachs with their chins resting on their paws. All four watched Meghan with round eyes but didn’t get up as she moved quietly around the bedroom. Well, as quietly as she could on the clunky crutches, which wasn’t terribly quiet. Mom must have been too pooped to notice.

  She started to crawl into the opposite side of the queen-sized bed but then paused and stifled a groan. She’d promised to call Sean when she got settled in so he’d know she made it all right. Even though he was her work partner—and the unit didn’t encourage partners to get too attached—she and Sean had formed a fast friendship. She wondered how they couldn’t, given their close working conditions and their reliance on each other.

  She’d never forget his stricken face when the paramedics lifted her from her mangled Toyota onto the wheeled gurney or the way he grabbed her hand. When she came out from under the anesthesia after surgery, he was there with Mom, waiting. A lump filled her throat. He cared about her—more than any man in her life, ever—so she shouldn’t worry him.

  She pulled her cell phone from its charger on the dresser and limped to the living room, where she wouldn’t disturb Mom, the dogs, or Grandma. Grandma’s wingback chair offered a welcoming embrace when she sank onto the floral cushions. She propped her cast on the matching island-sized ottoman, held the phone to her mouth, and pushed the voice recognition button.

  “Sean.”

  The phone buzzed his number. Less than thirty seconds later his bright voice came through the receiver.

  “Hey, Meghan. I’d about given up on you.” His rumbling chuckle rolled and she smiled. Sean was one of the most innately cheerful people she knew. “How’d the flight go?”

  “Great. No complications at all. People were really helpful, the way you said they’d be.”

  “Figured so.” No smugness at all colored his tone, just a matter-of-fact confidence she’d always found endearing. “Kinda hard for real men to ignore a damsel in distress.”

  She laughed. “I’m hardly in distress.” A broken ankle was nothing compared to what others in the accident suffered. Then again, their deaths distressed her. For the first time in her life she’d attended funerals for complete strangers. She’d needed the closure. Not that it helped much.

  “Grandma had a limo waiting, and she’d furnished it with Dr Pepper and Junior Mints. So the spoiling has begun.”

  “Well, bless her heart. You deserve it after what you’ve been through. Tell her thank you for me.”

  “I will.” She should hang up, go to bed, and get some sleep, but somehow it was nice to sit there in the peaceful, cloaked-with-shadows room with nothing but the gentle ticktock of the grandfather clock and Sean’s resonant voice keeping her company. “How’s my replacement detective working out? Are you two getting along okay?”

  A soft laugh carried to her ear. “We get along fine, as long as I don’t expect too much. He’s not even a real rookie—still hasn’t graduated—and nervous as a squirrel trying to store nuts on the peak of a steep roof in a windy county.”

  Her imagination conjured the image, and she stifled a blast of laughter. “What a thing to say!”

  “You haven’t met him, so don’t judge.”

  “Okay. I’ll take your word for it. But, really, if he’s that green, he’s landed in good hands. You’ll be patient with him.” More than any of the other detectives. The newbie didn’t know how lucky he was.

  “Yeah, well, I remember what it’s like to be the new guy on board. But hey, enough about me. How’s your grandma? I know it’s been a while and you were kind of concerned about how you’d find her.”

  Meghan spent a few minutes telling him about Grandma having tea and her favorite cookies ready, how beautiful she looked, and the graceful way she still moved even though arthritis showed in her bulging knuckles and twisted fingers. As Meghan talked, love and admiration filled her, and she found herself battling the sting of tears. “I should’ve gotten out here before now. I mean, how much longer will she be around? I’m not crazy about the reason that brought me here this time, but I’m sure glad I came.”

  “I’ll pray your whole time with her turns out to be a blessing for both of you.”

  Meghan smiled, touched by his sincerity. “Thanks. But if you really wanna pray about something—” She gave a jolt. Since when did she ask for prayer?

  “What is it?”

  She should’ve stayed quiet. What would he think about the rift between Mom and Grandma? Men weren’t emotional like women. “Um…”

  “C’mon, Meghan. What’s up?”

  Grandma had always told her God cared about her and her concerns. Sean believed it, too. Even if she wondered if God was real and really cared, she trusted Sean to care. “It might sound kind of trivial, but Mom showed up out of the blue.”

  “You mean without telling anyone she was coming?”

  “Uh-huh, and she plans to stay the whole time.”

  “Really? Wow…”

  She nodded, releasing a little huff. “Yeah. I’m still not one hundred percent sure why she bothered, other than to make sure Grandma and I don’t bond too much over the next several weeks. Grandma isn’t Mom’s most favorite person in the world.” Funny how much it hurt to say that. Maybe Meghan hadn’t completely lost the hurt, confused little girl inside of her.

  “That’s too bad.”

  She swallowed and hugged the phone closer to her cheek. “They’ve already been squabbling. Mostly Mom’s doing—her attitude stinks. And it really bothers Grandma. Her eightieth is coming up and I wanted this time to be special, but with Mom…” How childish this all sounded. As if Sean—or God—would care about such petty grievances. She scrubbed the air with one hand, wishing she could erase her words. “Never mind. Forget I said anything.”

  “No, obviously this is bothering you. You love both of them. If they’re at odds and you’re all under the same roof for several weeks, of course it’s going to affect you. There’s nothing wrong with wanting peace.”

  How well he understood. She blinked back unexpected tears. “That’s exactly what I want—peace between Mom and Grandma. I love both of them, and it’s like I’ve been caught between them my whole life. Grandma’s not going to be around forever. They don’t have years to waste. I really want them to find what you said…peace.”

  “Then let’s pray about it.”

  She pulled the phone away from her head and stared at the screen. Her pulse stampeded. She scrambled for words th
e way the squirrel on the rooftop would scramble for his escaping winter storehouse. She placed the phone to her ear again and rasped, “Now?”

  “Sure, now.” He sounded as certain as she was hesitant. “God doesn’t sleep. He’s listening. So let’s talk to Him.”

  When she was a kid, during the summer weeks with Grandma, Meghan had recited bedtime and mealtime prayers Grandma taught her, but she’d never said a prayer of her own. She had no idea what to say.

  “Dear heavenly Father…”

  She closed her eyes and bowed her head, the way Grandma had taught her.

  “Your Son told His followers, ‘My peace I give you. I do not give to you as the world gives. Do not let your hearts be troubled.’ Peace is a gift directly from You, and right now Meghan needs it.”

  A lump filled her throat. She tried to swallow it, but it wouldn’t go down. She curled both hands around the phone and held tight.

  “Be with her, her mom, and her grandmother. Be the calming presence in their midst. Bind them together in love and caring, and stifle any temptation to stir conflict. Let their time together meld them into the close family Meghan’s always longed for.”

  Her eyes popped open. She’d said very little. How could Sean know how deeply she wanted—needed—unity between Mom and Grandma?

  “And, God, remind Meghan that You are her Father. Let her lean on You and trust You—not her mother or even her beloved grandmother—to be her deepest source of peace.”

  Now he was creeping her out. Of course he knew she’d been raised without a father—everyone in the cold-case unit knew. But she’d never told him or anyone else how much she’d always pined for a father’s influence in her life. Why else would she have attached herself to the drug-abuse prevention officer who visited her fifth-grade class once a week the whole year? She’d chosen to go into a form of police work because of Officer Alan.

  Her entire body quivered, but she wasn’t sure if apprehension or longing created the reaction.

  “When full healing comes, to You will be given all praise and glory. I thank You now for the work You will complete in Meghan, Diane, and…and…”