My Way Back to You (Harlequin Large Print Super Romance)

by Pamela Hearon

  “Only a little?” he pressed.

  “I’m forcing myself to think about the positive aspects—like how much easier it’ll make things for Russ now we’re getting along. And how much easier it will be to call and talk to you about things—things about Russ, I mean. Just because he’s in college doesn’t mean he won’t still need parenting.”

  “You can call me to talk about anything—not just Russ. I mean, we could chat about stuff happening in our lives, you know? Even everyday stuff.”

  “You mean like who we’re dating? I could call and ask for advice?”

  His stomach flip-flopped at the thought. “Sure,” he answered, and she flashed him a wary glance. “Yeah, maybe not.”

  She snorted. “Didn’t think so.”

  Departures. He glared at the sign. Damn!

  “You could come to California on vacation. It’s changed a lot since you were there last. You could stay with me, and I could show you the sights.”

  “Hmm. A sex vacation. I’ve never thought of taking one of those.”

  “Stop being so damn flippant about this, Mags.”

  “There’s no other way to be. We knew what this was going into it. Yes, it’s been wonderful. Yes, it’s been exciting and fun, and, yes, even comforting. But it’s over.” She pulled to the spot on the curb marked Unloading—Ten Minute Parking.

  “It’ll never be over. You know tha—”

  She hit the button to raise the cargo door and climbed out of the driver’s seat.

  He hustled to meet her at the back of the car and threw his bag onto the walkway, grabbing her hand before she could scurry away. “You will give me a proper send-off this time.”

  A long blink accompanied her sigh. “Thanks for being here for Russ and for me.” She tried to hold a smile but it wavered with emotion. “It’s been...nice. All of it. I’m glad we had this time.”

  “Me, too.” An easy tug brought her willingly into his arms. She lifted her mouth to his in a kiss, scorching in its tenderness. Her eyes glistened when they broke apart.

  “See ya.” She patted his back and stepped away.

  “Call me,” he instructed, and got only a shrug in response. “I’ll call you,” he called to her back, but he wasn’t sure if she heard. She was already getting in the car. He waved as she pulled away and thought he saw her wave in response. But he couldn’t be sure.

  In fact, he wasn’t sure of anything anymore.

  * * *

  MAGGIE PULLED INTO the airport cell phone lot and found a parking space far away from anyone else. She couldn’t drive with emotion clogging her chest and neck so heavily she could hardly breathe. She’d held it in all morning, but the pressure had grown unbearable during that last kiss. If she intended to make it home safely, she had to let it out.

  She’d barely gotten the car into Park before tears started flowing, waves of sobs flooding out of her. The release felt good—nothing like the last time he’d left. These were tears of sadness, yes...but they were mixed with tears of joy, too, and a mysterious something she couldn’t put a name to. Her heart brimmed over with thankfulness that they’d had this time together...that they’d made their peace.

  “’Tis better to have loved and lost / Than never to have loved at all.”

  The words from a poem she’d read in high school drifted back to her as the tears washed the cobwebs from her brain. She’d just broken up with Sol Beecher at the time, and she’d thought those words were some of the stupidest she’d ever heard. Losing at love just plain sucked in those days.

  But she understood now. Jeff had brought an undeniable richness to her life. She could feel it growing inside her, expanding her heart to hold more love.

  And she hadn’t really lost him. Her high school ring was lost—slipped off her finger while she skied one day on Kentucky Lake. Jeff was more like the locket her granny gave her when she was seven, a hidden treasure tucked away in the back of her jewelry box where she kept special memories. Looking at it hurt...God, it hurt. But having it was so much better than not having it.

  The sobs ebbed away, and her tears dried.

  She put the car back into Drive and started home, no longer dreading the empty house quite so much. Russ was happy. Her dad was healing. The salon was thriving. Mom was angry, but she’d get over it...as long as Maggie didn’t slip into the darkness again.

  And she wouldn’t this time.

  She had a firm grip on the steering wheel and was determined to accept this new life...starting today.

  CHAPTER FOURTEEN

  “BUT MAYBE SHE’S not still mad at you. Maybe it’s more like the world she’s mad at.”

  Emmy tugged one last strand of hair through the small hole in the cap. Maggie knew she was trying to be gentle, but it still hurt. “Ow,” she whined, glad the torture was almost over.

  “Sorry.” Emmy grimaced and caught the strand between two fingers. “Last one.” Holding it at the scalp, she continued coaxing it out while keeping the pain to a minimum.

  “I know she’s frustrated with Dad.” Maggie picked up the conversation. “Here it is, only two weeks after major heart surgery, and he’s already contemplating ignoring the doctor’s orders, chomping at the bit to get back to work. She’s afraid to let him go down to the shop by himself...afraid he’ll lift something and break one of those wires in his sternum before everything’s healed. So she follows him around all day, which in turn aggravates him. He tells her to leave him alone, that he’s not a child. She tells him to quit acting like one. And on and on and on.”

  “Like I said, mad at the world.” Emmy reached for the color solution and began dabbing it on the protruding strands with a paintbrush.

  Maggie did her best to ignore the stench of the ammonia and how it burned her nostrils. She studied her reflection, once again trying to imagine the occasional streak of red Emmy had almost talked her into. “I guess you’re right, and she doesn’t hide her anger well.”

  “Must be tough to see a man as active as your dad reduced to piddlin’.”

  “Only for four more weeks, hopefully.”

  “If he doesn’t do anything stupid in the meantime...like murder your mom. How’s Jeff’s eye, by the way?”

  Maggie cast a pointed look at her friend in the mirror. “Interesting how you segued from murder to Jeff’s eye.”

  “Interesting how you talk to him a couple of times a week...” Emmy’s head tilted, eyes narrowing. “Yet I have to be the one to bring him up in conversation.”

  Maggie couldn’t deny that when it came to Jeff, her emotions were still like a game of chance—spin the wheel at any given time and see what the marker landed on. Conversations with him were fun, but the more fun they were, the more cautious she became. She was thrilled they’d had the recent time together and loved the memories, but sometimes her imagination wanted to lead her heart into dangerous territory.

  “His eye’s okay now, but, other than that, there’s nothing to report. Nothing’s changed.”

  “You’re wrong there. You’ve changed.”

  Maggie snorted. “Joining the Ladies’ Golf League isn’t that big a deal. And I’ve always wanted to join the gym.”

  “But you’ve never done either before.”

  “I never had time before with all of Russ’s activities. I’ve got empty hours now, and I don’t want to spend every one of them here.” She waved her hand at the salon, which resembled a beehive at the moment, and felt the tingle of pride.

  “So you’re telling me Jeff Wells has nothing to do with this sudden urge to stay fit? You’re not entertaining the idea of taking him up on his offer to visit California, and you’re not exercising because you have it in the back of your mind you have to compete with those sun-bronzed beach babes who are always within arm’s reach of him?”

  The chair next to her w
as empty, but Maggie still lowered her voice, unwilling to share the intimate details of her personal life with anyone other than Emmy. “I’m working out because I have time to work out. And, yeah, Jeff had something to do with it, but not the way you’re thinking. It was like being with him woke me up from a long sleep. I feel good, and I want to be active. That’s all.”

  Emmy covered Maggie’s head with a plastic shower cap. “Gives new meaning to ‘turning you on,’ huh?”

  Grabbing the front of Emmy’s smock, she pulled her friend’s ear down to her mouth. “And ‘plugged in,’” she whispered.

  They giggled like middle-schoolers at the lame joke.

  “You should join my kickboxing class.” Emmy set the timer for thirty minutes. “Now that your hooha has woken up from its long winter’s nap, some of those hubba-hubba guys would be willing to keep it from snoozing.”

  Maggie paused, thinking about that prospect. Sex with anybody besides Jeff didn’t interest her at the moment. In fact, her stomach rolled at the idea. She would have to work on that eventually, but for right now, she was good. “I’m nowhere near ready for kickboxing,” she answered, ignoring the rest of Emmy’s suggestion. “I’m starting with some spinning and some Zumba. Things I can do at my own pace. Maybe I’ll add other things when the weather starts turning cold.”

  “‘Other things’ like hot guys?” Emmy bent down to look her directly in the eye, letting Maggie know she couldn’t be deterred that easily.

  Maggie shrugged one shoulder. “Depends on how cold it gets.”

  “Doesn’t ever get too cold where Jeff lives, does it?” The question sounded innocent enough, but Maggie knew exactly where Emmy’s head was. Sure enough, she continued. “That’s where I’d be thinking about heading when it gets cold here.”

  “Well, I’m not,” Maggie assured her. “Going to visit him isn’t on my long list of things to do.”

  “’Cause it’s at the top of your short list.” Her friend gave her a smirk before she walked away. “You just haven’t admitted it yet,” she threw back over her shoulder.

  * * *

  THE TIME HAD come to tell Eli.

  No one from town had mentioned Jeff Wells’s name yet, but it could happen anytime, and Rosemary wanted it to come from her—not Maggie or anybody else. She was the only one who could do it right without upsetting him too much.

  She set the plate of grilled chicken breasts on the table and went to fetch the pitcher of iced tea from the refrigerator. She heard the bathroom door open down the hall, and Eli’s heavy tread came toward the kitchen. She also heard the water still running in the lavatory. Could he honestly not hear that?

  “You left the water running,” she called, hoping to save him a few steps, but he was already standing in the doorway by then.

  “What did you say?” He took off his cap and scratched his head, then tossed the cap on the nearest chair.

  “I said you left the water running...again.”

  He shuffled back down the hallway to turn off the water.

  Her hand trembled as she poured the tea. Reminding him prickled her as if she were doing something mean, but maybe if she did it enough he would start double-checking before he left the bathroom. This was the third time it’d happened today, and she was at a loss as to what else she could do about it. The doctor had warned them of the “brain fog”—an aftereffect of prolonged anesthesia—that many patients suffered from, but she hadn’t realized it would be this bad.

  She was beginning to feel like a prisoner in her own home, afraid to go anywhere else and leave him alone. Just that morning, she’d been out weeding the vegetable garden, had come in all hot and sweaty and needing a shower, only to find the shower running full blast, all the hot water gone, and Eli sitting at the table drinking coffee and reading the newspaper.

  He’d left it running for over an hour.

  Maggie had offered to stay with him some, and there were plenty of retired men in Taylor’s Grove who’d be willing to keep an eye on him. But the idea of having to get what was essentially a babysitter for her husband squeezed the breath out of her.

  He came back and took a seat while she dished up the vegetables.

  “There’s something I’ve been needing to tell you,” she began, trying for nonchalance. She sat down and unfolded her napkin across her lap. “Jeff Wells was at the hospital the day of your surgery...and the day after.”

  He paused with the spoon of candied sweet potatoes halfway to his plate. “The son of a bitch was at the hospital?”

  She grasped an ear of corn with the tongs, putting one on his plate, then one on her own. “Russ called him, upset and wanting to come home for your surgery. Jeff was in Wisconsin, so he told Russ he’d come down and be here in his place.”

  “Glad I slept through that.” He grunted, and picked up the salt shaker she’d filled with salt substitute. Grimacing, he set it back down. “How’d Maggie do around him?”

  The plate of tomato slices she held out to him became suddenly heavy, and she steadied it with her other hand. “She did great. They got along real well. In fact, he stayed at her place while he was here.”

  Eli’s fork clanged against the plate, where he dropped it. “Maggie slept with him?” His face screwed into a look that reminded her of someone on TV who’d just drunk poison.

  “Well, I don’t know that she slept with him. But she let him stay at her house. They even came to the park one night so everyone would hear it from them and not from hearsay.”

  Eli pushed his plate away. Bracing his elbows on the table, he rested his head in his hands.

  “Now, Eli. Don’t go getting mad.” She braced for the eruption of anger sure to come. Letting it out would be better for him than holding it in, she reasoned, and went on. “I told Maggie she’d lost her mind, but by then it was over and done and there wasn’t anything I could do about it, and there’s nothing you can do about it, so just go on and eat your supper.”

  “She seems okay. Or is she just putting on a show for my benefit?” His voice was quiet.

  Too quiet. A tiny shiver of apprehension slithered up Rosemary’s spine. “She seems okay to me, too,” she answered cautiously, suddenly on unsteady ground. “If it’s an act, she’s putting on a good one, but I told her not to come running to us for sympathy. She’s a big girl now. We have enough to deal with.”

  The eruption came then, but not as she’d expected. A great sob heaved from his chest, followed by...tears? In all their years together, she’d never seen Eli cry—not even when his mama died.

  The doctor had told them to expect weepiness, said it was normal for open-heart surgery patients especially. Maybe something to do with coming to grips with their own mortality.

  But she’d never expected it—not from her rock-solid husband.

  “Eli?” She opened her mouth, but where were the words? This was so far out of her experience she didn’t know how to react.

  “I feel so ashamed.” He wiped his eyes with his napkin, but the tears continued to flow. “I’ve talked bad about the boy all these years, but he was man enough to be here for Russ despite knowing how we feel about him.”

  His words shocked Rosemary into silence. What in the world was he saying?

  “And Maggie was big enough to forgive him and welcome him into her home. My little girl...” He shook his head as another sob racked his breathing. “Showing kindness, modeling the way I should act, when it ought to be the other way around.”

  Rosemary covered her heart with her hand, trying to slow its runaway beat. The whole world had gone mad. The two people she used to know better than anyone had become complete strangers to her.

  How could she take care of this man if she didn’t know him anymore, avoid his trigger points if she had no inkling in what direction they lay?

  Fear welled up inside her,
and she broke down and wept then, too.

  Eli reached out and took her hand, obviously thinking she was in agreement with him.

  So...apparently she’d become a stranger to him as well.

  * * *

  “ARE YOU TIRED?” Jeff backed his sister’s wheelchair into the family room through the sliding glass door at the back of his parents’ house.

  “Nah.” Chloe’s head waggled. “You?”

  He laughed. They seldom used the push wheelchair, but he’d insisted on it tonight, thinking it would be a good workout for him. The hills in the neighborhood hadn’t seemed nearly so steep when they first started out, but the last block had left him puffing. “Yeah, but it’s okay. You just sit there and relax, and let me do all the work.”

  Chloe’s only answer was a soft chuckle.

  He bent down in front of her and waited until her arms settled around his neck—a task that took a while but one he let her do on her own—and then he raised and shifted her to her battery-operated chair. “Oof!” He faked a groan. “Where are you hiding that fifty pounds you’ve put on since the last time we did this?”

  “Weakling,” she taunted, eyes crinkling in the grin her mouth could no longer form so quickly.

  “Keep it up, wise ass, and I’ll only make one milk shake and slurp it up right in front of you.”

  “I tell on you.” How was it she could no longer write her name with any legibility, yet she could still arch an eyebrow so precisely?

  He shrugged. “Tell all you want. Mom always liked me best.”

  Chloe let out the same squeal that comment always rendered. In the past, she would’ve landed a fist to his arm, but that was before her severe form of MS left her limbs too weak for any extraneous movement. He still jumped away, though, pretending to avoid the blow.

  “Get the strawberries and the ice cream,” he instructed as she followed him into the kitchen, and he watched her feigned exasperation.

  “I alway haf to do everthin’.”

  He chuckled at their standing joke as he got the blender and the glasses out and set them on the counter. It was so not true. His parents—Mom, especially—insisted on doing almost everything for Chloe. But every couple of weeks, his parents had a night out, and Jeff came over to keep his sister company. During their time alone, he required her to do anything she was able to on her own, even if it meant a bit of a struggle—often for them both.