Moments In Time

by Mariah Stewart

  “I most likely would have done the same thing,” she said as she turned to him, tears clinging to her dark lashes.

  He nodded slowly, and they locked eyes.

  “Maggie?” J.D. poked his head through the door. “Everything all right in here?”

  The two in the room had frozen at the intrusion, and J.D. sensed immediately that his sudden appearance had interrupted something of importance.

  “What is it?” he asked, apprehension washing over him as his wife and his best friend exchanged a long look of conspiracy.

  “Come in and close the door,” Rick instructed him. “I have something to tell you…”

  22

  WOULDN’T HILARY LOVE TO BE READING MY MIND right now, Maggie thought. What a coup for her to uncover that little item.

  For months she had had nightmares that Rick had somehow been found out, awakening with a chill at the headlines that had appeared in her dreams: FROM GUITAR GREAT TO MERCY KILLER. ROCK IDOL MURDERS LOVER. She shuddered at the very thought of what the press could do with a story like that, the consequences to Rick, to Sophie…

  Had he done the right thing? There had never been a question in Maggie’s mind that Lindy had been one hundred percent certain that she’d wanted to die. Maggie had never ceased to pray that Lindy had found, in death, the peace that had eluded her all her life and that Rick would not be judged harshly on his own final reckoning day for his part in her passing.

  What was it Hilary was discussing now? Oh, that stuff about three of J.D.’s former bandmates suing him a few years back for a greater portion of the rights to some of the old Monkshood albums that were newly issued on CD. J.D. had been incensed when they had sued him directly rather than the record company, which had control of the funds. She knew he’d be pretty testy on that issue. Not the money—he’d never been one to keep close tabs on the cash—but the publicity—the implication that he had not treated his friends fairly—had made him crazy.

  She glanced at Hilary from the corner of one eye. She’s enjoying this, Maggie realized. She thinks she’s getting some hot scoop because Jamey had declined to be interviewed on the subject. Personal anger aside, J.D. thought that the matter was trivial, not of any lasting importance to him. He had let the lawyers hash it out. It wasn’t the type of thing that really touched his life in the long run.

  Barely listening, she crossed her legs and nudged her foot from her shoe, wiggling her toes as they were gratefully released from the bondage of the tight black leather pumps. The dangling shoe slipped from her toes, and she tried to spear it back onto her foot without making too much show of it. Hilary was still grilling J.D. about that legal issue. Old news. That must have been, what, 1984?

  What a crazy year that had been. The twins were born and Lindy died. Luke made her first trip ever to the States to spend the holidays with us, and we’d had a full gathering of the clans for Christmas. The year had started with a bang and never let up. There was one big event after another, right through to New Year’s Eve…

  Luke finally made her first transatlantic flight at the insistence of both her son and her daughter. She boarded the plane with Judith and Ned and their children—five of them at that point—and by the time the plane had landed in New York, she was berating herself for having resisted the trip for so long. She’d spent all week engaged in activities with her grandchildren, baking cookies and making special treats for them to share, helping them to shop for little surprises for their parents—with her money, of course—and tending to her new granddaughters while Maggie shopped and wrapped presents.

  Near midnight on Christmas Eve, as Maggie fitted the last of the children’s presents under the tree, the doorbell rang. Being alone downstairs, she went into the hallway to see who the late arrival might be.

  “Caroline!” Maggie exclaimed. “I’d given up on you. Where have you been? Hello, Allen. I see Caro’s dragging you around for the Christmas Eve visits.”

  “I know it’s late, Mags, but the lights were still on…” Caroline began her apology.

  “Don’t be silly,” Maggie laughed. “This is Christmas Eve in a house with six children… eleven, actually, Judith and Ned are here.”

  J.D. came down the steps, carrying boxes of presents he’d squirreled away in the back of his closet to surprise his wife.

  “Good to see you both,” he greeted as he dropped the pile of gaily wrapped packages beside a chair. “Can I get you some holiday cheer?”

  “We brought our own,” Caroline said, handing him a bottle. “All we need are some glasses.”

  “Champagne? What’s the occasion?”

  “Well.” Caroline took a deep breath and seated herself on the sofa. “Allen and I are getting married.”

  “What?” Maggie dropped the handful of tiny packages she’d been stuffing into the children’s stockings that hung from the large oak mantle.

  “I said, Allen and I are getting married,” she repeated, her words seeming to echo in the room, which had become embarrassingly quiet in the wake of her announcement. Her eyes held Maggie’s for a long moment.

  “Why… what a surprise. I’d had no idea… You caught me off guard.” Maggie attempted to recover. “I guess this is a cause for champagne. Have you decided when you’re going to do this?”

  “Well,” Allen replied, “we were thinking of New Year’s Eve.”

  “You mean next week?” Maggie’s jaw dropped. “Next week?”

  Caroline nodded as Allen explained, “All of my children will be home by then. My two sons are in college, you know, and my daughter and her husband and my little grandson will be here, so it seemed like the most convenient time. I need to be back in Washington by the fifth, so I figured, what the heck, why wait? We can get married by a justice of the peace, and Caroline can make the trip back to D.C. with me.”

  Maggie sat on the floor, looking up at the couple on the sofa, Caroline so beautiful with her dark hair pulled back, Allen handsome and distinguished and a full twenty-five years older than his fiancée.

  “I’m in shock, I’m sorry.” Maggie giggled self-consciously. “I wish you every happiness, Caro, you know I do, but I hadn’t expected it.”

  “I know it’s a surprise,” Caroline replied, avoiding the questions she read so clearly in Maggie’s eyes.

  J.D. brought in a tray of glasses, which he passed out to those assembled, and proposed a toast in honor of the forthcoming wedding. The champagne was soon depleted, and Maggie retreated to the kitchen in search of a bottle of wine. A moment later, Caroline joined her.

  “So… what do you think?” Caroline asked her hesitantly.

  “I think I’d like to hear a little more,” she replied candidly.

  “He’s a nice guy, Maggie. And he loves me very much. I’ll be okay.”

  “Yes, he’s a nice guy. And it’s obvious he loves you very much. But is ‘okay’ the best you can do?”

  Caroline shrugged. “What would you like to hear?”

  “How about ‘I’m madly in love and can’t live without him’?”

  Caroline did not immediately reply.

  “It’ll be okay Maggie,” she said with a sigh. “I’m not going to sit here and tell you I’m madly in love with him. Because I’m obviously not.”

  “Does Allen know that?”

  “I think so.”

  “Why are you doing this?”

  “I guess I’m just tired of waiting for… for something… a handsome dragonslayer, a Prince Charming. I don’t know what I was waiting for, Maggie,” she sighed deeply, “but I’ve given up. It’s not coming… whatever it was I once thought I’d find…”

  “Caroline…” Maggie whispered, her heart all but breaking.

  “Anyway, it seems like the best thing to do.”

  “Best thing for who? Caro, have you thought this through completely? How does Allen feel about starting another family at his age?”

  “Well, he really doesn’t want to. You know, Edie, his daughter, has a son who’s only two—�
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  “For crying out loud, Caroline, you’re not even thirty-five years old. And you always wanted a family.”

  “It’ll be okay,” she said again, averting her gaze.

  “Caroline, don’t you think you deserve more than—” She stopped abruptly as Allen walked into the room, and they were unable to complete the conversation.

  By the time the evening had ended, Maggie couldn’t wait to get J.D. alone to bend his ear.

  “Why in the name of God did you offer to have the wedding here?” she glared.

  “Maggie, I thought you’d be pleased. Caroline’s your oldest and dearest friend, isn’t she?”

  “Well, yes, but—”

  “So what is the problem?” he asked.

  “The problem is that Caro’s making a terrible mistake, Jamey. She shouldn’t marry him.”

  “Maggie, that is not your decision to make.”

  “He is absolutely the wrong man for her,” protested Maggie.

  “What’s wrong with him? He seems like a nice enough sort.”

  “He is nice,” she sighed with exasperation, “but that’s not the point. She doesn’t love him, Jamey. And he’s better than twenty-five years her senior. He has grown children. And he doesn’t want anymore. You know how Caro always wanted children. She’s making a big mistake.”

  “That may or may not be so. But it’s not your place to tell her that. You could be very wrong, Maggie, so my advice to you is don’t give any advice to her. It’s Caro’s choice. Maybe they’ll be very happy.”

  “They won’t be,” she grumbled.

  “Well, I remember when people very close to you thought our marriage was a mistake. And they were people who thought they knew you well and knew what was best for you. And look how wrong they were. I know you’re concerned about Caroline because you care for her, but even if it is a mistake, you can’t prevent her from making it.”

  “What should I do?”

  “Be a happy matron of honor and pray she knows what she’s doing.”

  Caroline’s elderly parents did not attend because her mother was recuperating from recent heart surgery, but her brother Thomas, ten years older than she, made the trip from Iowa to give the bride away. Thomas and his wife, Betty, both quiet, reserved midwesterners, seemed overwhelmed by the Borders crew, the presence of the many young children, Judith’s family, the Callahans, and assorted friends of Caroline’s and Allen’s and, of course, Allen’s children.

  The ceremony, presided over by the local justice of the peace, was held in the parlor and was brief and to the point. Allen’s eldest son served as best man, and Maggie, as the bride’s only attendant. J.D. broke out the champagne after the vows had been exchanged, and the judge, anxious to get on with his evening, had asked for his overcoat as soon as he’d toasted the bride.

  “Rushing the New Year a bit, don’t you think?” rang a cheery voice from the doorway. “It’s only ten past eight, a bit early for a New Year’s toast.”

  The gathering turned to see a smiling Rick holding a squirming Sophie in his arms. He set her down and put his arms out to a very surprised Maggie.

  “Sorry for dropping in like this, but we’ve just wound up what turned out to be the longest tour of my life. We’ve been everywhere—Japan, Australia, you name it, we played there. So Sophie and I thought we’d celebrate and surprise you. I was hoping you’d be having a party tonight.” He grinned broadly.

  “Well, actually, Rick—” Maggie was interrupted as Rick spotted her mother.

  “Mrs. Callahan, what a pleasure to see you. Sophie, this is Aunt Maggie’s mother, do you remember?” He turned his attention to his daughter who was struggling out of her coat, assisted by Lucy. “Oh, and there’s Caro… Hello, darling. I was praying you’d be here. Can’t think of anyone I’d rather see in the New Year with.” He put his arms around her and before she could utter a word, impulsively kissed her on the lips, leaned back and looked at her face. Mistaking her dismay for compliance, he kissed her again.

  “Ah… Rick,” she pushed back from him. “Rick, there is someone I’d like you to meet…”

  “Oh, no, you’ve got a date. Of course, you would. Any chance you can ditch him a bit early,” he teased, only half joking, “and we can sit up all night and talk, like we did the last time. We’ve got lots to discuss, you and I—”

  “Rick,” she said, blushing crimson and extricating herself from his arms as Allen approached, forced humor in his forced smile. He placed a hand firmly on her elbow. “Rick, this is Allen Fisher. My husband.”

  There was a long embarrassed silence. Rick was dumbstruck.

  “Allen, this is Rick Daily, an old friend.”

  Recovering as quickly as he could, Rick quipped, “Well, looks like I’m a day late and a dollar short. Caro, I had no idea…”

  “We only decided very recently, Rick,” she explained as calmly as she could, wishing that Allen would release his grip on her arm and that the sudden, unexplainable ache in her stomach would vanish. “Maggie and J.D. offered to let us get married here tonight.”

  “Tonight? You mean you just, just now…” His jaw dropped and his skin went ashen.

  “Yes. About twenty minutes ago,” she told him, unable to look away from his stunned face.

  A day late indeed.

  “Well, then, I guess congratulations are in order for you both,” he said softly, shaking Allen’s hand with an obvious lack of enthusiasm, a hollow space opening up inside him.

  23

  MAGGIE’S MUSCLES WERE ACHING, THE RESULT OF holding her body so stiffly in one position for such a long time. She was pressed tightly against the arm of the sofa. If she shifted her weight, she’d be touching him, and she did not wish any physical contact whatsoever. Emotionally drained, she could not even look at his face. “The woods are full of ghosts tonight…” Where had she read that? The specters from the past leaned heavily upon her. She could bear to see no more of them.

  The TV lights had heated up the room unmercifully, and the air was stuffy. At the next commercial break, she’d open the French doors, maybe step outside for a moment or two and breath in some fresh air. She glanced at her watch, noting the lateness of the hour and relaxed slightly. Not too much time left.

  Hilary had seen Maggie steal a peek at the time. I need to get this woman to react, she told herself. She’s like a damned dummy sitting there and just about as responsive. I need to draw her back into this. I need to get her talking. Maybe I’ll stumble upon a clue as to what’s going on.

  “It’s an interesting collection of portraits, there on the wall.” Hilary pointed to the row of paintings. “They’re all your children?”

  “Yes,” Maggie nodded.

  “Well, then, introduce us to them.” Hilary rose and walked toward the wall, indicating that both Maggie and the cameraman should follow, J.D. remaining on the sofa.

  “Lovely children.” Hilary smiled, hoping that she looked warmly, sincerely interested. “Point them out to us, oldest to youngest.”

  “Well, this is Jesse.”

  “He looks so much like his father,” Hilary commented.

  “Yes,” Maggie went on, “and this is Tyler, he’s thirteen this year. Very athletic, very much the all-American boy.”

  “Hardly ‘all’ American,” her husband’s voice from the sofa reminded her.

  She ignored him. “And Lucy’s next. She’s eleven—”

  “A redhead. How charming,” Hilary cooed.

  “And Emma is nine.” She touched the frame of the portrait of the dark-haired child, eyes seemingly too large for her tiny face.

  “But she’s the very image of you, Maggie.” Hilary could not miss the striking resemblance, the green eyes, the smile.

  “She is very much like me,” Maggie said with a nod, “but certainly much sweeter in disposition. More trusting, more naive than I.”

  Hilary and Maggie locked eyes, and Hilary knew that Maggie had seen through her expressed interest in her children as a ploy to
coax Maggie into letting her guard down. Very good, Maggie, Hilary acknowledged silently.

  “These are the twins, Molly and Susannah. They’re six,” Smiling, Maggie moved smoothly to the next painting, pleased she’d made her point and confident that she’d be able to survive the next thirty minutes with no further anxiety. “And this is Spencer. The baby.”

  “And he’s how old now?” Hilary inquired.

  ‘Two,” Maggie told her, gazing with love upon the darling baby boy with the blond curls who grinned impishly from the canvas.

  “A beautiful family, Maggie, and I’m sure our viewers at home are just as taken with their adorable little faces as I am.” She smiled broadly and turned as if she were preparing to walk back toward their seats. Maggie was about to take a step toward the sofa when Hilary hesitated and said, “There seems to be an uncharacteristic gap of about four years there, between the twins and the last one.” She frowned slightly, then added, somewhat absentmindedly, “Oh, of course, you lost a child, didn’t you?”

  “Yes,” Maggie’s jaunty confidence, so newly gained, evaporated in an instant as her throat began to close rapidly.

  “Would you like to tell us—”

  “No,” Maggie cut her off, “no, I would not.” Light-headed and weak, she turned her back on the camera, achingly aware that one child was missing. She’d have given anything to have seen Hallie there, among the others. Even now, when she thought of that baby, she saw only a blank, featureless face. It had never ceased to haunt her.

  She felt strong hands grip her elbows from behind, holding her weight. He’d felt her pain from across the room, felt the stab of her anguish as clearly as if it had been his own. Without a thought he had gone to her. She leaned back against him slightly, touching him for the first time in days, and he felt her sharp intake of breath as she attempted to recover from the sudden unwanted memory of that saddest of times, waiting for her to pull away from him. She did not. He looked beyond her to the wall of portraits. They had not needed Hilary to point out that there were seven, rather than eight faces, displayed there…