“Sure thing.”
Kyle laid the items on the tasteful wood counter and spoke to his customer. “Thanks so much for stopping by. Mr. Rolfson will ring you up.”
Maggie followed Kyle beyond the curtain behind the counter to his small office off the storeroom. He was dressed casually today in khakis, loafers, and a plain polo shirt, but as always, he looked as if he’d just stepped off the pages of a men’s fashion magazine.
“What have you got? What did he find out?” She practically jumped up and down.
He waited until she stepped over the threshold of his office and closed the door behind her. For the first time since she’d entered his shop, she saw concern etched on his face. Concern for her.
Crap. What now? She thought. “What is it?”
“You should sit down.” He indicated the chair at his desk. The office was compact but neat, just like Kyle.
“I don’t want to sit down,” she said testily. “I want to know what you found out. I’ve been waiting fourteen years, Kyle.”
He ran his hand through his stylishly moussed hair. “This is probably a mistake on my part.”
She dropped her crocheted purse on his desk. She was sweating heavily now, despite the light cotton white T-shirt and pants she wore. She intended to go directly to the hospital from here. “Kyle . . .” She begged him with her gaze.
“All right. All right.” He reached for a sheet of paper that lay on his desk, an ordinary piece of paper that Maggie knew would change her life forever.
“Thank you,” she whispered. “Thank you so much.”
“Thank me after you read it.” He handed her the paper.
For a moment her vision was blurry. Did she really want to know? If she didn’t, this was her opportunity to back down. Last chance.
I want to know.
She focused on the information sheet, obviously printed from some legal file—printed illegally. It was dated two days after Maggie gave birth in Tucson, and recorded in Baltimore, Maryland.
She scanned it quickly.
A request for temporary custody of a female child born in Tucson, adoption proceedings forthcoming.
Her vision blurred again, this time from tears.
The document was signed by Jarrett McKay.
~~~
“Unbelievable.” Lisa leaned over the counter, stirring her martini. It was eleven thirty in the morning—in her eyes, well within the acceptable time limits for drinking.
Maggie was drinking tea. Lisa had come to visit for a few days to be with Maggie and help her sort out this mess her life had become.
“So you didn’t know? Mother didn’t tell you?”
“Mother never told me anything. Hell, I didn’t even know why you’d gone to Aunt Sissy’s until I figured it out myself and called you.”
Maggie was still reeling in shock over the news that Jarrett was raising her daughter. Her daughter was with him and not her. In all these years, she had never once suspected. It was almost too unbelievable to believe. Yet somewhere deep in her aching heart she knew it was true. Aching, breaking heart. Maggie nearly choked as she swallowed her tea. How had her life become a bad song?
Lisa went on, oblivious to the moisture Maggie brushed from her eyes. “And Mother—how could she give your baby away to Richie Rich?”
“It was a private adoption, Lisa. She wouldn’t have known who the baby went to.”
“Someone told the McKays you were pregnant. It had to be Mother.”
Lisa didn't mention that it was because of her that Maggie and Jarrett had broken up. Maggie couldn’t help wondering if the event had meant so little to her that she had completely forgotten. She didn’t bring it up. What would be the point?
“Lisa.” Maggie tried to remain calm. It was the only way she could continue to function. “That’s not fair. Mother would not have told the McKays I was pregnant.”
Lisa laughed without humor as she poured her martini into a juice glass. “You just keep telling yourself that, Sister. Whatever it takes to get you through the day.”
Maggie followed Lisa into the living room. She didn’t want to argue about their mother. It was a waste of time and energy. She wanted to talk about her daughter and what she should do next.
Lisa sat on the couch, propped her feet on the antique traveling trunk that served as a coffee table, and stretched out her long, thin, tanning-bed tanned legs. She was dressed in white short shorts, a sleeveless blouse, and Italian white sandals. Maggie assessed that Lisa had probably paid as much for her casual ensemble as Maggie had paid for the leather couch.
“The question is: what should I do next?” Maggie plopped down beside her sister in her running shorts and her torn Cornell Med School T-shirt.
“Do? Sue him. Take your daughter and as much cash as you can get out of him. He’s probably a hotshot lawyer.” She glanced sideways at Maggie. “Wasn’t he pre-law at Georgetown?”
“No.” She frowned; sometimes Lisa sounded just like their mother. “He was taking business classes but I have no idea what kind of degree he ended up with.” She sipped her tea from a salt-glazed mug. “Obviously, I need to find him first.” Right now she couldn’t even imagine the encounter with Jarrett to come. “His parents sold their house. I've gotten that far. A neighbor said they’d moved to Tampa.”
Lisa gave a snort and tipped her martini/juice glass. “No surprise there. What about Jarrett?”
“I didn’t ask many questions. It was old Mr. Ferguson who lived next door to the McKays. He knew more about the brother. Lives in LA, a psychiatrist.”
“Nothing on Richie?”
Maggie eyed her sister, surprised by the twinge she felt when Lisa cut on Jarrett. Lisa had never liked Jarrett. Even when she’d had sex with him, it hadn’t been because it was Jarrett. A million other reasons, but not because she liked him. So why did Maggie care now what Lisa thought of him? He was the scum of the earth. Only scum would take a woman’s child and never tell her. “Mr. Ferguson said Mr. and Mrs. McKay didn’t say much about Jarrett. It was all about his big brother and how he was a psychiatrist to the stars or some such nonsense.”
“He didn’t know where he lived? What he did for a living?”
“He thought he might be in Philly or Baltimore, but he couldn’t remember. He could, however, remember what I wore to my senior prom.” Maggie lifted an eyebrow, amused by the useless information.
“Okay, so we Google him.” Lisa got up and went back into the kitchen. Maggie listened to her make herself another martini. She really needed to talk to Lisa again about her drinking, but she would table that conversation for another time.
“Lisa, you don’t have to do this. This is my problem. I can find him on my own. I’m sure you have better things to do than track down my old boyfriend.”
“Track down my niece.” Lisa stuck her head around the corner. “And what have I got better to do? Sit alone in my apartment and watch the Kardashians!? Wait for that wife-cheating, globe-hopping husband of mine to pass through on his way to Japan? If I’m lucky I might get to go to a nice dinner at a French restaurant or a reception at the White House.” Her sarcasm was thick, her pain poorly hidden.
Maggie didn’t understand why her sister married men like Ronald. He’d cheated on his wife to sleep with Lisa. What made her think it would be different once he married her? But, like the drinking, Maggie didn’t want to get into the subject right now. What was the point? Lisa chose to live her life as she saw fit, and she was always quick to remind Maggie of that fact.
Lisa came out of the kitchen carrying her second martini. “We can Google him, see what we find and then go out for lunch.”
“I don't know.” Maggie didn't know if she was up for dining in public with her minimum of three martinis for lunch sister.
“Come on. A person should have a little fun on her day off. We can have lunch at that little Mediterranean place you like and maybe do a little shopping. Pick up a nice outfit or two for you.”
“I don’
t need any clothes.” Maggie responded a little more defensively than she intended. “What do I need clothes for? I wear uniforms to work. I run and sleep in this.” She tugged on her T-shirt.
“Exactly.” Lisa walked to the floor-to-ceiling windows that lined the east wall and gazed out at the breakers. “We’ve got to get you looking decent again, get you back into circulation.”
Maggie knew it was coming. Lisa had been hinting over the phone for two weeks. It had been more than a month since the accident. Appropriate mourning time had passed, as far as her sister was concerned.
“I’ll go for the lunch and we can shop for you, but I don’t need anything. I don’t want anything,” Maggie finished firmly.
“Suit yourself.” Lisa shrugged one thin shoulder. “But shopping always makes me feel better.”
“Exactly.” Maggie rose to go dress. “Makes you feel better. Not me.” She started down the hall to get her computer, but then came back. “I need to go to Stanley’s apartment, too. Should we do that instead of lunch? I really should start cleaning it out.”
Lisa glanced out the window again, finishing off her martini. “One biggie at a time, Maggie. Let’s see if we can find your daughter. Their stuff isn’t going anywhere.”
Maggie nodded. Lisa was right. She’d already contacted a real estate agent, but he was showing the apartment as it was. There was no hurry until they had an interested buyer. She was just going to box up everything and have the Salvation Army pick it up. She would sell most of the furniture with the apartment.
The only thing she really wanted was the antique sleigh bed she and Stanley had bought together. She had called it her wedding bed. He’d ended up putting it, the smaller bed, in his apartment for practical reasons. She rarely slept in DC. He’d bought a king-size bed for here, one they’d be more comfortable in together, he said. But secretly, practicality be damned, she wished she’d kept the sleigh bed here at the beach.
“Maybe next time I get two days in a row off,” Maggie said, “I could go to DC and you could help me clean out the place.” She glanced at her running shoes. “I think I’ll need your help, Lisa. I don’t want to do it alone. Kyle helped me with Jordan's things here, but . . .” She trailed off into silence, remembering the day she and Kyle had cleaned out Jordan's bedroom and taken everything away. Maggie still couldn't bear to open his bedroom door.
“You tell me when. I’ll be there.”
Maggie walked back to her room. Who would have ever thought when she and Lisa were growing up that they would be close now? They were still so different—oil and vinegar, Lisa said—yet they clung together, especially at times like this. Right now Maggie needed Lisa like she needed the sound of the waves at night, Kyle's friendship, and her tea in Jordan’s Sippy cup in the mornings.
Chapter 8
Maggie’s hands trembled as she stared at the cell phone in her hand. There had been no lunch. No shopping. They'd found Jarrett in less than an hour. She'd spent the next two hours pacing the floor trying to decide what to do and trying not to fall apart.
Her hands never shook and she never hesitated. For heaven’s sake, she was an emergency room doc. Every day people’s lives rested in her unshakable hands.
“Want me to call for you?” Lisa’s tone, for once, was without edge.
Maggie glanced up. After all these years of selfishness, it was still hard to believe Lisa was here for her. That thought gave her courage. “No. I can do it.”
They were sitting on the couch, side by side. It had taken no time at all to find Jarrett because the business he owned had his name on it: McKay Consulting. He was in Philadelphia, not Baltimore. A very profitable business, from what they had learned on the Internet. Maggie didn't exactly understand what his company did but it had something to do with writing assembly instructions in various languages for assembling items like bookcases and desks. She'd also learned that he was expanding his business to include directions on assembling kids' toys. There had been a picture of him dressed in a suit shaking someone's hand. He had barely looked as if he'd aged at all and just seeing his picture had brought tears to her eyes. Tears of anger and sadness and so many more emotions that she hadn't yet had time to identify them.
Lisa had called his office to make an appointment with Mr. McKay and learned that he was not in Philadelphia, but on vacation at one of the Delaware beaches and wasn't currently taking appointments. A little research and they found a phone number in Talbany Beach under his mother's name. The address was the same house his parents' had owned when she and Jarrett had been dating. A house only a couple of blocks from where Maggie lived now.
“Either do it or give me the phone and I’ll do it,” Lisa insisted.
Maggie held the phone out of her reach. “I said I can do this.” Her pulse was racing at at least double its usual rate.
Lisa gestured with a cigarette. “Well then, do it, already!”
“Don’t light that thing in my house. You know you have to smoke on the deck.”
“I’m not smoking. See, it's not lit.” She held out the cigarette then slipped it between her lips again. “Make the call.”
Maggie stared at the phone in her hand again. “All right, I will.” She took a deep breath and exhaled. This time her hands did not tremble as she punched in the phone number.
The phone rang in Maggie’s ear. One ring. Two.
Maybe he wasn’t home.
She didn’t know what she’d say if she got Jarrett’s answering machine. Of course she didn’t know what she was going to say if she got him, either. Hi, this is Maggie Turner. You remember me. I’m the mother of the little girl you took from me.
A third ring.
He wasn’t home. She wasn't sure if she was heartbroken or relieved.
A fourth ring.
Maggie knew what would happen next. Her own answering machine was set the same way. After four rings, the message would play. She couldn’t leave a message on the machine. This was a phone call that had to be made person to person. She’d call back later.
Maggie was just about to hit the “end call” button on the phone when she heard someone pick up. Her stomach fell.
“Hello, McKay residence,” a teenish feminine voice said.
Maggie's knees went weak. It was her.
“Hello?” the girl repeated.
“H-hello,” Maggie stammered. She was stunned. Overjoyed. This was her daughter, had to be—the daughter of her body and of her heart, a daughter just as Jordan had been her son.
“This is Taylor,” the girl said, sounding peeved. “May I help you?”
Taylor. Her name was Taylor. A perfect girl’s name. Strong, but feminine.
“Um . . . yes. Yes. May I speak with your—” Maggie’s tongue twisted in her dry mouth. “Is Jarrett in?”
“Sorry, he’s catching a wave.”
Maggie was so awestruck by the mere thought of speaking with her own daughter for the first time that she could barely keep up her end of the exchange. “Pardon?”
“He’s surfing. High tide and a storm’s coming in. Great breaks on the waves as they curl. May I take a message?”
Taylor definitely sounded impatient now. But teens were impatient, weren’t they? It wasn’t really Maggie she was annoyed with.
“Will you ask him to give Maggie a call?” She gave her the phone number.
Taylor repeated it back. She had excellent phone manners. “Okay. Got it. Maggie who?”
Maggie felt her heart flutter. Taylor hadn’t reacted to her name. Had Jarrett ever said her name? Sure he would have. But how much had they ever spoken about her? Did Taylor know something of the woman who had given her life? Had he told her some of the details, what little he knew, or had he glossed over her entire existence by neatly killing her off in childbirth?
“He’ll know who it is,” Maggie said, her voice sounding stronger than she felt. “Just ask him to call me. Thanks. Good-bye.”
“ ’Bye.”
Maggie listened to the pulse of
the disconnected phone in her ear. Her gaze drifted to Lisa’s face. “It . . . it was my daughter . . . Taylor,” Maggie said softly, tasting the name on her tongue.
“Is she still on there?”
Maggie knitted her brows, the phone still pressed to her ear. “No.”
“Then tell me everything. If we're not going out to eat, I'm having another martini.” She headed for the kitchen. “Now tell me everything. The suspense is killing me.”
Maggie dropped onto the couch. Her daughter was here in Delaware, on her very own beach. It was beyond belief.
“So what was she like? Was she one of those sulky teenagers, or was she a smart mouth?”
“Neither.” Maggie stared at her hands, folded in her lap. “She was pleasant. Polite. She sounds like”—her voice cracked— “me.”
“I can't wait to meet her!” Lisa leaned on the island between the kitchen and the living room. “You sure you don't want a drink? You sound like you could use one.”
“I can't believe she’s right here in Talbany Beach,” she said, glancing out the glass doors toward the ocean. “Right under my nose.”
Maggie had so many questions. There was so much she wanted to know about her daughter. How had Jarrett gotten her? How had he even found out she was pregnant? Did Taylor know Maggie was alive? What had he told her about Maggie’s putting her up for adoption?
“So now what do we do?” Lisa asked, coming out of the kitchen with her martini in her hand.
“Nothing to do. Wait for him to call.”
“We could go to the house. Stalk him,” Lisa suggested, sitting on the arm of the couch.
“No.” Maggie got up. “That wouldn't be right. If our roles were reversed, I wouldn't want him to do that. I'd want to talk to him first.”
“But your positions aren't reversed,” Lisa declared loudly. “He has your daughter.”
Maggie walked toward the kitchen. “You hungry? I'm hungry. How about some pasta and veggies?”
Maggie's Baby Page 8