Her best friend knew how to read her body language and stayed clear of all talk about hot pilots and unforgettable sex. They laughed, danced, and politely brushed off cheesy come-ons by the men at the bar. Well, Maggie had been polite; Kenzie pretty much spoke her mind.
After a Saturday filled with domestic chores, Maggie dreaded her monthly Sunday dinner with her mom. She’d never had problems being the cheery one in the past, but today she didn’t feel like being her mother’s punching bag, or plastering a fake smile on her face. She’d put on her big girl panties and go to dinner, though the fake smiles would not be making an appearance.
Benny answered the door with a hug and a welcoming aroma of blueberry pie. “Made it especially for you.”
“With vanilla bean ice cream?”
“Is there any other way to eat blueberry pie?”
“You’re the best, Benny.” Maggie kissed her cheek and locked their arms together as they headed toward the kitchen. “What can I do to help?”
Benny pulled out a barstool and gestured to Maggie. “Keep me company while I stir the risotto.” She poured two glasses of wine and slid one across the counter.
“Thanks.” Maggie sipped the cold wine and gazed out the window, taking in the breathtaking view. “How’s Mom been since Dad left? Never mind. Dumb question.”
“Actually.” Benny looked over her shoulder. “She hasn’t been eating. I’ve never seen her look so frail. I was hoping you’d be able to convince her to eat.”
Maggie snorted. “As if.” She didn’t mean to be disrespectful of her mother, especially in front of Benny, but Maggie was the last person who could convince her mother to do anything. Ever since Liam died and her father spent more time traveling, her mother seemed to care for her daughter less and less.
“She loves you, honey, she just has a hard time expressing it. I know she looks forward to your visits, but…”
“But?”
“I tried to bring her to the doctor earlier this week. She wouldn’t go. Slept the day away.”
“Do you think something’s wrong? Sorry, another dumb question. I mean beyond the usual.”
Benny turned off the stove and moved the pot off the burner. “Besides not eating, she’s been having dizzy spells. And practically lost her breath walking from her bedroom to the kitchen the other day.”
“I wish she’d take one of the downstairs bedrooms. You know she’ll never leave Dad’s room. Maybe if he moves all of his stuff the next time he’s home.”
“That’s a great idea, honey. I think he will if you suggest it. You know your mama isn’t going to say anything.”
It could be months before he visited again, probably not until Thanksgiving. “I’ll go upstairs and get Mom.”
Maggie finished her wine. She’d need the brain-erasing liquid before seeing her mother, who’d most likely ignore her except to tell her she was an inadequate daughter. She never knew what to expect. When her mother was in an energetic mood, she turned passive aggressive, making Maggie feel guilty for everything from Liam’s death to the fall of the economy. Joan in a depressive state was just as scary. She’d be a lifeless mummy going through the motions, not making eye contact, speaking, or showing any affection.
Only her father could bring a smile to her mother’s face. Maggie turned at the top of the stairs and lightly tapped on her parents’ bedroom door. “Mom? It’s Maggie. Dinner’s ready.” She turned the handle and entered the dark room. “Mom?”
The light from the partially closed bathroom door shone on to the bed. Empty. Maggie pushed the door open all the way and gasped. Her mother lay in a crumpled heap on the tile floor.
“Mom!” She dropped to her knees and picked up her mom’s limp hand. “Mom, wake up. Mom!” Maggie found a pulse, light, but it was there. She crawled backwards and yelled down the stairs. “Benny! Call 911. Mom’s unconscious.”
She ran back to the bathroom and checked for gashes or bruises. Her mother was still dressed in her nightgown, and Maggie had no idea how long she had been out. Joan didn’t usually dress unless it was necessary and, according to Benny, she typically waited until dinner to finally change.
Benny’s labored breathing got louder. “Oh dear heaven. What happened?” Benny dropped to her knees next to Maggie and stroked Joan’s hair. “Dear lord, she’s got a goose egg on the back of her head.”
The sounds of sirens snapped Maggie out of her trance. “I’ll go let the paramedics in. Stay with Mom.”
“Of course.”
Maggie ran down the stairs and filled the paramedics in with the little she knew. They hadn’t been close and the pain of losing her mother now, with so much unresolved, unspoken between them, twisted in her stomach.
Once her mother was on the stretcher and hooked up to an IV, Maggie turned to Benny. “I’m going to follow the ambulance to the hospital. Do you want to come with me?”
“You go, honey. I’ll be by later, once the doctors figure out what’s going on.”
Maggie gave her a quick hug, scooped up her purse, and bolted out the door.
It felt like hours that she paced the waiting room, anxious for news anytime a doctor or nurse or hell, a custodian had come near. The smell and sounds of the waiting room were still familiar after so many years. The pacing, the waiting for the doctors to tell them if the transfusion worked. If another round of chemo was needed. What the next process and procedure would be to keep her eight-year-old brother alive.
And once again, no one to hold Maggie’s hand. No one for her to lean on.
The guilt of being the healthy child, bored and begging to go with her father on his next trip instead of trapped in a sterile waiting room, weighed heavily in her stomach.
“Miss O’Fallon?”
Maggie’s head snapped up. “Yes!” She jumped up and jogged over to the doctor. He held a clipboard tight to his chest, his wrinkled face expressionless.
“I’m Dr. Brogan. How long has your mother been having symptoms?”
“Symptoms?” Which ones did he want to hear about? Her depression, social anxiety, bipolar—not that she had a diagnosis, yet it sure the hell seemed that way.
“Dizziness, headaches, tingling in her arm.”
“Oh…I…uh…I don’t see my mom all that often. I didn’t know… She hasn’t been eating much lately and she doesn’t really talk about…much.” Yeah, officially worst. Daughter. Ever.
“Come with me, Miss O’Fallon. I’d like to talk with you in my office before bringing you to see your mom.”
“Is she…is she going to be okay?”
“She’s conscious now and resting.” He guided her through a maze of corridors until they reached a small office. Dr. Brogan pulled out a chair for her. “Your mother experienced a small stroke.”
“Oh my God.” Maggie slumped in her chair.
“We’ve run a lot of tests and are waiting for the results, but the preliminary numbers are gearing toward an Ischemic stroke. These are caused by blocked arteries, which reduce blood flow to the brain.” As he continued talking, all Maggie could hear was the blood rushing to her own head. If only her mother’s blood could move so rapidly. Or even her heart, her brain, her love. Instead Joan was a stone statue. Of course her arteries were blocked.
“I’m sorry, doctor…” What was his name again? “Can you tell me how she’s doing now and what I need to know to take care of her?”
“Sure. Here’s some information for you and your mother to read through.” He handed her a folder filled with pamphlets and phone numbers. “It’s a lot to absorb. Thankfully your mother is in good health. I’m hopeful she’ll regain full mobility of her hand and speech over the next few months, and that will require constant therapy. Is there someone who can bring her to her appointments? There will be quite a few over the next few weeks.”
“Um, yeah. Between Benny and me, we’ll figure it out.”
“She mentioned Edward, her husband?”
“Yeah, my dad is out of the country.” Maggie wasn�
��t sure he’d come home to see his wife. He had wanted nothing to do with Liam’s medical treatments and therapies, so why would he come home now? “I’ll, uh, call him. Benny, she’s our…my mom’s friend, and I will take care of her.”
Benny was the closest thing Joan had to a friend. And family. After Maggie listened to the doctor for another ten minutes, he finally got up and led her to see her mother.
Joan O’Fallon had lost her shine and color years ago, but lying amongst the white walls and white sheets, she looked even more gaunt. The IV stand took up one side of the bed, while an oxygen tank sat at the other. Maggie slowly made her way to the bed and started to sit on the side before thinking better of it.
“Mom?” Her mother’s eyes fluttered open and her mouth opened but no words came out. Not that it was unusual, her mother didn’t typically have much to say to Maggie. “Are you thirsty?” Maggie picked up the cup and held the straw to her mother’s lips. “Take a sip. Your lips are cracked.”
Joan closed her eyes and took a tiny sip. Maggie put the cup down and rocked back and forth. Right to left. Left to right. “So, uh, you had a stroke.” She shoved her hands in her back pockets, wanting to reach out and touch her mother, afraid she’d pull away as always. There was only so much rejection a woman could handle.
“How are you feeling?”
Her mother closed her eyes and shifted her head to the side. Once again, Maggie would have to be the grown-up in the conversation.
“So, I talked with Dr.…uh, your doctor and he said you should make a pretty decent recovery. Possibly one hundred percent if you put the time into it. Your speech will come back”—not that Maggie would be able to tell the difference—“and you will gain most, if not all, of the mobility back in your arm.” She watched her mom slowly wiggle her fingers. “I can rearrange my schedule and help you out. And you have Benny too.” She didn’t mention her father, knowing her mother was thinking only of him.
Maggie stayed for another hour, making idle talk, her mother not even attempting to speak. She tamped down the sense of worthlessness that tried creeping its way into her head and focused on her mother’s health. After checking in with the nurses and making sure her mom had everything she needed for the night, she called Benny on her way home and braced herself for her second call.
“Hi, Dad,” she said to his voicemail. “It’s Maggie. I wanted to let you know that, uh, Mom is in the hospital. She had a stroke. She’ll be okay. I…didn’t know if maybe…you could come home for a bit. I know it would help her recovery. So, uh, yeah. Call me when you get a chance. Bye.”
All she wanted to do was go home and curl up in a ball and snuggle with her dog. Sweetie Pie was the only constant in her life, besides Kenzie, but sometimes she didn’t want to talk or feel. Just be held and loved and comforted. Once home, she took care of Sweetie, turned off her cell phone, and climbed into bed. She closed her eyes, shutting out the world, imagining Graham’s strong arms holding her tight.
Crap. She was turning into her mother.
Chapter Twelve
Graham
His first week back was pure hell. Not only did Graham have to dodge the media, but he’d also put up with immature jokes from his fellow pilots and lustful eyes of hero worship from the flight attendants. Female and male.
Stockton’s attorney filed a civil lawsuit in hopes of besmirching Graham’s reputation as payback for Stockton’s getting fired from his job. Apparently it wasn’t the first time the man had been publicly intoxicated and run his mouth. However, his seedy attorney was out for blood, trying to make Graham look like a violent, unfit pilot.
With his anger management course complete and paperwork filed, and after four days of meetings and interviews, Global Air had reinstated Graham’s wings and had given him his usual flights back. Finally away from Texas and its claustrophobic buildings and air, Graham breathed in the Seattle rain as he jogged back to his hotel. With his days and nights filled with flying and meetings, he barely had time to squeeze in any exercise.
Graham slowed as he entered the hotel and went down to the gym to lift weights. He needed the distraction and the outlet.
“I heard you were in town.” Ashley, the gorgeous hotel’s HR manager and Graham’s Seattle Girl, sidled up to him. With a sudden hold on to his biceps, she pulled him into a kiss.
Breaking away, he swiped his mouth with the back of his hand and chuckled. “Hey, Ash. Yeah, it’s been a while.” He sat down at the bench press and Ashley straddled it, facing him and running her hands up and down his chest. Guilt crept its way up his neck.
“I saw your name on the guest list. Stopped by your room earlier but you weren’t in.”
“I’ve had a long day. Look, tonight’s not a good night. I need to shower and—”
“I can help you there. Wouldn’t be the first time.”
Graham had been seeing Ashley off and on while he had layovers in Seattle, but he didn’t remember what she smelled like, or the sounds she made when he kissed her. He knew she didn’t smell like cherry vanilla and didn’t giggle innocently when his lips nibbled on her ear. He smiled at the memory of Maggie, which Ashley mistook, sliding her hand lower to the tops of his thighs, her fingertips coming dangerously close to his crotch. He returned his attention to her, picking up her hands and holding them to the side.
“Look, Ashley.” He sighed. “You’re beautiful and I’ve had a lot of fun with you…”
“Oh.” She stood and backed away. “Sorry. I thought we were cool.”
Graham smiled sadly. “We knew this…arrangement would only work when and if we were single.”
“You have a girlfriend? Lucky girl.”
He didn’t bother to correct her. “You can do a lot better than this.” He gestured between them. “You’ve been selling yourself short hooking up with me when I’m in town.”
“No, you’re wrong.” Ashley stepped closer and brought her hands around his neck. “You’re a good guy, Graham. I could try to seduce you tonight. Tell you your girl would never find out. And she wouldn’t. But you’re not that guy.”
“Really? How do you know I haven’t had a girlfriend all along?”
“A woman knows. At first I thought you were distracted with work and the media.” She let out a humorless laugh and shook her head. “Those gorgeous eyes of yours couldn’t sell a lie for fifty cents. They’re too honest. I hope she’s worth it. Worth you.” She kissed him on the lips and sashayed out the door.
Graham prided himself on the women he kept company with. They were respectable and career-driven people who, like him, avoided commitment, yet wanted the physical connection. Ashley was amazing and he would have missed her if there was anything more between them besides no-string sex.
He spent the next thirty minutes lifting weights before heading to his room. Alone.
While in the shower he thought about Maggie and her sweet-smelling shampoo, her long, wet hair and how it stuck to her back, reaching the top of her perfect ass while he soaped her from head to toe, stopping frequently in the middle.
Knowing he needed a good night’s sleep before his back-to-back-to-back flights tomorrow, he toweled off and fell into bed naked.
***
Maggie
Maggie had just finished putting her mom to bed and poured herself a bowl of cereal when she heard the front door open. “Honey, I’m home!”
“Dad?” She dropped her spoon and looked up to see Edward O’Fallon, tanned and dressed in his go-to style of cargo pants and a short-sleeved button down shirt, green eyes smiling.
“Hey, baby girl.” He rounded the island and kissed her on the cheek. “Cereal?” He looked down at her shredded wheat. “Benny on strike?” He laughed at his own joke while Maggie didn’t even crack a smile.
“Dad, Mom had a stroke.”
His eyes turned serious. “I know, Margaret. I got your message. Why do you think I’m home?”
“You never returned my calls. Or texts. Or emails.”
“Intern
et was sparse. I’m here now.”
And it was record time. She’d only called him two days ago. Still, she was mad at him for not being around. Mad because her mother loved him and waited for him. Mad because he was just like Graham. Or Graham was just like him. Whatever. They both left the women who pined after them home alone and returned when they pleased, a smile on their faces as if the world hadn’t kept rotating on its axis.
“Yeah, well, you should have been here sooner.”
“Margaret,” he scolded.
She’d never been fresh with him before. “You haven’t even asked about her condition.”
“You were pretty clear in your emails. And texts. And voicemails.”
“Well, something could have happened since then.”
“Has it?”
“No, but still. Dad, she misses you.”
“I know, pumpkin. I’m here now.”
“She needs you to stick around longer. To help with her therapy. She hasn’t spoken a word since her stroke. I’m worried.”
“I’ll see what I can do. You look beat. Go home and rest. I’ll take care of your mother.”
“Okay.” Maggie gathered her phone and keys. “Her pills are on the counter. Benny and I have a log of when she needs to take which pills. Which she needs to have on an empty stomach and which she needs to take with food. Here, let me show you.” She reached for the spreadsheet, but her father stopped her with his hand on her shoulder.
“Margaret, I can read and I’m very capable of taking care of your mother. I’ll call you if I need anything.” He kissed her forehead and took the paper from her hand, leading her to the front door.
“Dad,” Maggie said, turning to face him. “Don’t walk out on her. On me. You have to let me know before you leave. Someone needs to be with Mom. She needs—”
“I know what she needs, pumpkin. Go home. I’ll take care of her.” He spoke so gently in a voice she’d never recognize if she didn’t see the words form in her father’s mouth.
Maggie nodded and walked blindly to her car. Somehow she made it home, let herself in, and Sweetie Pie out.
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