Like right then.
The tub of ice cream was in the lower freezer, and she had managed to work the door open. But raising the tub and placing it on her lap took all her strength.
“Need help?” he offered.
“No.”
He pretended to keep busy looking for straws and long spoons while she finished the task and was rewarded with a huge smile when she finally glided over to him with both containers on her lap. He took them, then tweaked her nose. “And we need milk.”
She aimed a glare at him as she put the chair in Reverse and backed up to open the fridge and retrieve the milk from the shelf on the door. But he read the satisfaction in her eyes when she returned to him with the carton.
He blended the concoction, adding the dash of Tabasco just like Dad did, until he was sure the strawberry chunks were pulverized and wouldn’t cause problems. Chloe’s ability to swallow wasn’t the best.
“Family room and movie, or patio and talk?” He knew the answer before he asked the question, but he asked, anyway. This was their first time alone since his trip east, and he knew his sister was dying to ask him all the things she couldn’t in front of their parents.
“Patio and talk.”
He carried the milk shakes, elbowing the door open and closed behind them. The sun was setting and a vivid red sky met them. Chloe scanned the horizon and let out an “Ooh” as he settled the glass into her drink holder, making sure the extralong straw was on the correct side.
Simultaneously they sucked on their straws and tapped their fingers in their modified form of fist bump before opening their mouths and releasing their traditional expression of appreciation.
“Aahhh.”
Formalities over, Chloe immediately got to the business at hand. “So, wha’ really happ’n with your eye?”
The question caught him off guard. He’d expected her to launch into the subject of Mags, and he’d been positive his story of getting hit with the golf club had been accepted as the truth. He may have fooled his mom and dad, but apparently Chloe knew him too well.
Where to start?
If he started with EmmyLou, he’d have to explain why he was at Maggie’s house...in the safe room...while Mags wasn’t home. He took another sip of his shake and grimaced as a brain freeze caused an excruciating ache at the back of his head.
Chloe watched him closely. “Qui’ stal’n, buster. Spill.”
“Shall I start at the very beginning?”
His sister’s eyes infused with delight. “Everthin’.”
He didn’t have to go into details about how great Mags looked, and their first dinner together. He’d gone through all of that with everyone when he first returned home. So he started with the night they left Russ, glossing over the most intimate details but including enough to let his sister know that he and Mags had stayed together for several nights.
She hung on his every word, enraptured by the story, gasping and squealing as if she were twelve again.
As a preteen with a young and beautiful new sister-in-law, she’d idolized Mags during the short time he and his wife had been together—copying her hairstyle, mimicking the Southern accent. And after he and Mags split, all that affection had shifted to Russ, whom she adored. It had always been Chloe who would ask Russ questions about his mom during his visits. Everyone else avoided the subject. What little Jeff knew about his ex’s life through those years was mostly thanks to his inquisitive sister.
“You call her?” she asked when he finished his rather long tale.
“Four times in two weeks,” he answered.
“She come here?”
He shook his head and set his empty glass on the table. “I’ve tried to talk her into it, but she won’t do it.”
Chloe dropped her head back and gazed up at the sky for a long moment, then she brought her eyes back to his. “You still love her.”
He must’ve used more Tabasco than he realized because suddenly he felt a burning deep in his gut. “I...uh...yeah, in a way, I guess. I mean, the attraction’s still strong, and we’ll always have Russ, who gives us a special bond. I still care for her. That’s a better term for what I feel, I think.” The burning eased off, so he must’ve hit on something. He wasn’t going to spend the rest of his life yearning for something he knew was never going to happen. But caring was expected, or at least understandable and acceptable. Loving? After all these years? Not so much.
“Thin’ you’ll ge’ back togeth’r?”
“Naw.” He shook his head and avoided eye contact by shifting his gaze toward the sky.
No stars were visible, faded out by the lights of the city. No fireflies. No shooting stars, either.
Nothing to wish on.
“Not a chance,” he said.
The burning in the pit of his stomach flared to life again.
CHAPTER FIFTEEN
ELI’S HAND LEFT the steering wheel of his truck long enough to tickle the inside of Rosemary’s thigh, just above the knee, teasing her dress up slightly. “Resume normal activities, Rosie—doctor’s orders. All normal activities. You know what that means?” He leered at her and winked.
She slapped his hand...but not too hard, glad to have his playfulness back. Now, if she could only find her own.
“Don’t try all that woman stuff—playacting like you don’t like it. You missed it as much as I did. Six weeks is too long to go without.”
He tickled her earlobe, but she leaned away from him, toward the window. “Keep your mind on your driving, you old coot. Sometimes you have a one-track mind.”
“And that one track is leading my engine straight toward your tunnel.” He laughed aloud at his joke. She rolled her eyes.
Just because the cardiologist told Eli he was healed and better than before didn’t make it so. The doctor had never been in bed with them, didn’t know how hard her husband worked when he made love. How could it not be a strain on his heart?
Fact was, everything could be a strain on his heart, by her way of thinking. Since the night they’d gone to the hospital after their walk, she’d lived in a constant state of terror he might keel over any minute. She waited on him hand and foot. Avoided arguing. Let him have his way about almost everything.
But he wouldn’t get his way about this. She’d already made up her mind.
“Want to go by the mall?” he asked.
Eli offering to go to the mall?
Just more evidence this was a changed man from the one she knew before—the one who complained that his feet hurt as soon as he stepped out of the car at any mall parking lot.
“No,” she answered. “I’m getting a headache. Let’s just go on home.”
“Let’s run by the salon, first. Tell Maggie the news.”
“If you want.” She would leave that choice up to him. It had been six weeks since Maggie had her fling with Jeff, and she seemed fine—great even—but how could Rosemary really tell when her daughter remained so secretive about everything, including her feelings? Besides, she was still miffed that Maggie would take such a risk. Condoning a tryst with Jeff would be like telling a recovering alcoholic it’s okay to have a drink.
The salon lot was full, but a woman came out the door just as they pulled in. She motioned to her car a couple of rows over, and they were able to take the space she vacated.
When they entered the salon, they were met by a yell.
“Whoo-wee! Ladies, look at this! Brad Pitt has graced us with his presence!”
EmmyLou tossed her tools aside, left her customer sitting in the chair and came over to leave a big red lipstick print on Eli’s cheek.
“Angela’s gonna be jealous.” He shook a warning finger in the young woman’s face.
“Angelina,” she corrected as she hugged Rosemary.
Eli nodded. “He
r, too.”
“How you feelin’?” Emmy’s glance darted between the two of them, suggesting it was a collective question.
“Fit as a fiddle,” Eli answered.
Emmy’s eyes came to rest on Rosemary, and her head tilted in question. Rosemary nodded her agreement.
“Gonna give Rosie a private concert later, in fact,” Eli added, eliciting a snort from Emmy.
Rosemary just rolled her eyes. “Is Maggie here?” The office was dark—odd for this time of day—and a prickle of apprehension caught between her shoulder blades.
“No, she had an eye doctor appointment.” Emmy moved back to her workstation, and Rosemary followed. Eli stayed where he was, basking in the attention from the other stylists, who stopped their work to give him hugs and ask how he was faring.
“Is she having trouble with her eyesight?” Something else to worry about, Rosemary fretted silently. “She hasn’t said anything.”
“Just some redness and watering, apparently. Probably allergies. September. Fall coming on.” Emmy circled her comb in the air. “Lots of gunk in the air right now.”
“Yeah, I suppose.”
“We may have to tie an anvil on her butt to settle her down now that Russ is gone.” Emmy grabbed a fast-food cup from her station and sipped through the straw. “This morning, she tells me she’s thinking about going to Vegas to a trade show next week.”
“But, she just went to that one in Orlando back in June.”
Maggie had always planned her trade shows around Russ’s time in California with his dad, so she’d only gone to the ones that happened during the summer. This was odd behavior. But, then, Rosemary was coming to expect that from her family.
Emmy shrugged. “She’s lonely. Keeping busy’s good for her.”
Guilt tightened the muscles in Rosemary’s neck. She should be doing more with Maggie, but taking care of Eli had become a full-time job. And with his new friskiness, that would probably get worse before it got better. So much to do, so little time. All this worry was keeping her from sleeping well, and exhaustion groaned deep in her bones.
As if she’d read her mind, Emmy nodded in Eli’s direction. “You keep an eye on that one, and leave Miss Maggie to me. Deal?”
If only it were that easy.
“I’m sure my daughter enjoys your company more than mine, anyway,” Rosemary answered in reluctant agreement. “Maybe you could fix her up with somebody.”
“Working on it. There’s a guy at my gym...” Emmy gave her a conspiratorial wink and flipped on the blow dryer.
Not wanting to have to shout to be heard, Rosemary waved her goodbye and went to collect Eli from his group of adoring fans.
The accumulation of vapors in the air had started to get to her, and she pressed her fingers along the sore ridge on her forehead. She may have lied to Eli before, but now she really had developed a headache.
The fact she was relieved about it, though, filled her with guilt.
* * *
MAGGIE DABBED HER eyes with the tissue again and took a sip of her iced tea.
It was times like this, she supposed, when she should be happy to live alone. No one to answer to but herself. Time to wrap her head around this and get her feelings straightened out before she had to explain it to anyone else.
She picked at the thread of her emotions, trying to untangle the tight knot, but it held fast.
Pregnant.
The word itself made her nauseous, and she sipped again, letting the sweet tea trickle down her throat.
How could this have happened? How in the hell could she have let this happen again? Weren’t the odds of getting pregnant twice while using condoms—and with the same partner—about the same as getting struck by lightning?
Why hadn’t she stayed on the Pill after Zeke died? She still would’ve insisted on condoms, but maybe between the two contraceptives, one of them would’ve captured the damn renegade sperm.
Her breath shuddered as she sighed, grief giving way to wonder with the mercurial swiftness of the mood swings she’d grown accustomed to over the past four hours since hearing Dr. Donovan’s words.
She was going to have another child!
Time was when she’d longed for this. Had held out hope until Russ entered high school and she’d realized the age difference had become too great for the kids to have any kind of relationship.
The laugh that crept out of her held no mirth.
How would she ever find the courage to explain to Russ that his mom had been so lax when all his life she’d been so careful about everything related to him?
Everything except his conception. Her dad had made that joke a couple of times through the years when she’d been overly protective.
Mom and Dad. Images of the first time she’d had to spring this news on them filtered through her mind. Now she would have to put them through it again.
“Again.” She spoke the word aloud, letting the night breeze pick it up and carry it away. Spoken alone, it sounded so innocuous. A favorite word of her piano teacher, the choral director in high school, her golf instructor. Encouragement to practice until perfection had been attained. Two syllables she’d murmured as a question when Jeff woke her with his tender touch in the middle of the night. No practice needed there—it had been pure perfection.
And she carried that perfection inside her now.
Her hand rested comfortingly on her stomach. Six weeks, Dr. Donovan had figured. No physical changes anyone else would notice for a while.
Jeff had to be told first.
Just like last time.
Last time bloomed large in her memory. His shock. Her tears. His arms around her, trying to be supportive, trembling with the burden she’d laid there. His tremulous smile as he held her face and kissed her eyes and promised everything would be okay.
And everything had been okay. They’d done it once...they could do it again.
“Don’t worry little one.” She directed her voice toward her belly. “We’ll be all right.”
She picked up her phone for the umpteenth time to make the call. Laid it back down, not quite ready.
Before the doctor’s appointment—when she’d only had the home pregnancy test to rely on—she’d determined it best to tell Jeff in person. She’d even laid the groundwork of the trip to Vegas as cover. But Dr. Alexis Donovan’s confirmation had thrown her off balance. She felt as if she had stepped into one of those crazy houses at the fair where gravity was out of whack and balls rolled uphill. She just wanted to tell him and get out of there with a quick disconnection of the phone, avoiding the shock and the pain and the accusatory looks sure to follow.
But they would never be disconnected.
This was a child. The miracle of a living human being growing inside her, not a breaking news report.
Jeff’s child.
She picked up the phone again and cleared her throat as she touched his name in her list of contacts. Her thumb hovered for a fraction of a second before it tapped his number.
She held her breath but not for long.
He answered on the second ring.
* * *
“HEY, MAGS!”
It was only a few minutes past closing time of the dealership, but Jeff had gotten up from his chair, glad to be heading home after an exhausting day. He closed the door and sat back down.
“This is a pleasant surprise,” he continued. “Unless something’s happened to Russ...or Eli’s taken a turn for the worse.”
“Russ is fine, and Dad’s doing great,” she assured him.
“Well, then, hey, Mags! This is a pleasant surprise. A surprise because I’ve called you consistently since our time together, but this is the first time you’ve called me. And pleasant simply because it’s you.”
Her soft laugh b
rought a smile to his face—one of only a few that day. “I guess it was my turn. Huh?”
She sounded hesitant, almost shy, and he groped for something to say that would encourage her to call him again. “I’m glad you decided to take a turn.” He tried to ignore the way his heartbeat had increased at the sound of her voice and was still zooming despite the fact he was sitting down and at rest.
“Yeah, well, I wanted to see how you’re doing.”
She was stalling, he could tell, which meant she wanted to tell him something and hadn’t yet worked up the courage to come out with it. He could wait. Getting to the point would only shorten the duration of the call, and he didn’t want that, so he went on. “I’m fine, but it’s been a hellacious day here at work. We had a minor hailstorm yesterday. Nothing big. Mostly just dime-size stuff. But enough that a bunch of cars got pinged, so I’ve been with insurance adjusters all day.”
“Jeez, I’m sorry to hear that.”
He leaned back and propped his feet on his desk, trying to relax. “You’re in business. You know how it is. There’s always something...”
“You got that right.”
Was that a snort or a sigh? He couldn’t tell, and it made him wish he could see her face. “You should’ve got me on FaceTime,” he chided, but gently.
“I’m sitting outside, and it’s too dark. It’s after eight here in Kentucky, remember? The days have gotten so much shorter since you were here.”
The mention of when he was there, coupled with picturing her alone in the dark with that big old empty house behind her, threatened to bring a melancholy mood to the conversation. He sought to brighten it a little. “Wish I were there now.” His ploy didn’t work. Verbalizing it made him wish it even harder.
“Well, that’s sort of why I called.”
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