“Rick, Lindy spent a lot of time looking for a way to shut it all out. She’d have found it sooner or later, with or without you. At least you didn’t abandon her, you did everything a person could do to try to help her get away from it.” She put her hand gently on his arm, then added, “She had something inside her that we couldn’t see and couldn’t understand. It’s haunted me since it happened, but I’ve come to the conclusion that it couldn’t have ended any other way for her.”
“And what do I tell Sophie? She’s asked a million questions about her mother. I hate to keep lying to her, but I can’t tell her the truth.”
“What purpose would the truth serve in that child’s life? It’s hard enough for her to grow up without a mother without burdening that little soul with all the gory details.”
“I just want to do what’s right for my daughter,” he said, “if in fact she is my daughter. If Lindy knew for certain, she took that secret with her.”
“Do you really need to know?” Lindy’s blunt confession rang in Maggie’s ears, gnawing at her conscience.
“No,” he sighed. “Whether she’s my flesh and blood doesn’t matter. She’s my little girl and she always will be. She may not have a mother, but she’ll always have me. And I’ll always love her. That’s about the only sure thing I know in this life, Maggie.”
“Well, that’s a lot.” She grinned, praying a silent thanks to Lindy for having given him this most precious of gifts. Not flesh of his flesh, but undeniably, Sophie was his heart.
“Look at them.” His focus was on the four young girls as they lounged on the grass, taking a breather from their game. “They all look so grown up. I’m not ready for them to grow up quite yet.”
“Neither am I. You know Jesse turned thirteen this year? And already starting to look at the girls.”
“With any luck he’ll have his father’s good taste in women, and you won’t have to worry about it. Of course, his father wasn’t quite as selective as a young man,” he teased, “but he grew smarter as he grew older.”
“What about you? Are you seeing anyone special these days?”
“Not really. I’ve been busy. New album, an international tour. Sophie,” he said, somewhat self-satisfied. “It’s such a kick, Maggie. Do you realize that now that I’m an old man, I’m a ‘legendary guitar great’? I guess that happens to you, once you pass forty. It’s amusing, don’t you think?”
“There’s nothing amusing about passing forty, Rick,” she grimaced.
“You don’t look a day over thirty, Maggie. You never really change very much. Neither does J.D.”
“I think it has something to do with being happy all these years,” she told him. “I wish you could find someone to share your life with. I imagine you get lonely sometimes.”
“I do,” he admitted, “though there’s never a lack of female companionship.”
“It’s not the same as being with someone you love.”
“I’ve only loved one woman in my life, Maggie,” he said very quietly, “and I’ve given up hope of ever—”
J.D. called to them as he rounded the side of the terrace and began to ascend the steps to where they sat.
“So, how was the hike? And where are your sons?” Maggie asked, disappointed that the conversation had been interrupted.
“Down by the duck pond,” he said. “Young Spencer here is soggy and could probably use a nap.”
“Well, since I’ve been sitting here relaxing all day while you’ve been dragging the boys all over the countryside, I’ll take him in and clean him up and get him a drink.”
She took her blond, curly-haired little boy from the backpack in which he’d been riding. He was such a joy to her, this last child, and his pleasant ways and sweet disposition filled her heart every time she held him. He was a cuddler, and now as she walked into the cool of the old brick house, she felt him snuggle into her neck as she carried him. Knowing he would be her last baby made him extra special to her, just as Jesse, being the first, was special. She hoped the others didn’t sense it and think she loved them any less.
Three days later, Rick had dropped Sophie off at Luke’s, which had become more and more Maggie and J.D.’s house. They had expanded again two years ago, and at Luke’s suggestion, Maggie had redecorated the entire house. Even the garden bore Maggie’s mark, with the newly built wall enclosing an even greater space that housed those flowers to which she was partial. All along one side she’d planted dozens of her favorite roses, an ashy lavender color with the sweetest of fragrances. She filled every room of the house with them when they were in season, in vases and bowls, the aroma everywhere.
Maggie was placing a newly cut bouquet in her bedroom when Emma and Sophie trailed in, bored and looking for something to do. Maggie made a few suggestions and wasn’t the least surprised that all were immediately rejected, eight-and ten-year-olds being as they are. She caught the movement out of her eye as Sophie drifted toward her bedside table and picked up a photograph, studying intently.
“Is this my mother?” she asked, torching the glass reverently with a small finger, wanting to touch the face of the woman she’d never known.
“Yes,” Maggie said, walking toward her slowly. “That picture was taken a long, long time ago. Before I met J.D. and before she met your daddy.”
“Where was this?”
“In Philadelphia. After a bike race we were in.” She smiled, thinking back to that day so very long ago.
"Did you win?” she asked.
“Not by a long shot,” Maggie laughed, “but we didn’t expect to. We did it for fun.”
Sophie smiled up at her, a light in her eyes. “Was it fun? Was she fun?”
“Oh, yes. She was a lot of fun. She had a great sense of humor, and she was, as you can see, very beautiful. We had many good times together back in those days, your mother and I.”
Sophie looked wistfully at the photograph of the mother who had never hummed a lullaby to her sleepy child nor rewarded a handful of clover with a kiss. “How old was she when this picture was taken?”
“Well, let me think. This must have been, um, 1973? The spring of 1973, I think. So Lindy would have been about twenty-five.”
“I never saw a picture of her when she was this young. In the few Dad has, she was older.”
“Well, if you’d like, I’ll have that one copied for you. And I have a few back home that I think you should have. I’d give you this one, but I don’t have the negative, and it’s one that I particularly like.”
“Why?” Sophie asked.
“Oh, because it makes me remember the day, and it makes me think of your mom and how we were back then. And that day was special to me. See, after the race, we went out for some dinner, and we sat and talked for a long, long time. That was the day we started to get to know each other, the day that marked the beginning of our real friendship.” Maggie’s throat tightened as she recalled that night, as Lindy, sensing that Maggie was a person she could trust, slowly told her the story of her life and all it’s tragic twists and turns.
Seeing Lindy’s daughter holding the photograph, the tragedy was real to her again, and she was saddened for the little girl who looked so much like the mother she’d never known. In some ways she was a bit like Lindy, sassy and bright and beautiful but, gratefully, lacking the darkness that had pervaded her mother’s nature. She was, in this respect, truly Rick Daily’s daughter, lighthearted and jovial, casual in her approach to things with that same seemingly boundless energy and enthusiasm.
When they’d returned home to the States, Maggie spent a morning going through boxes of old photographs, selecting those she thought Sophie would most appreciate. She had them all copied, and several she had enlarged and framed. She packed the box carefully, enclosing a note that told the story behind each picture. Sophie called her the night the package had arrived to thank her, but as she began to speak, she broke into tears.
“Oh, Sophie, I’m sorry. I never for a minute thought it would upset
you,” Maggie apologized.
“I’m not upset,” Sophie replied. “They are beautiful pictures, Aunt Maggie. It’s the best present anyone ever gave me. I’ll always keep them.”
“Which one did you like the best?” Maggie asked when Sophie had settled down.
“I like them all, but I love the one on the beach. The one with you and my mother sitting back to back, and her hair is long over one shoulder and you are laughing. The camera was real close to you, and your faces are big in the picture. I have that one next to my bed, on the table… Oh, Daddy wants to talk to you.”
“That was a lovely gift, Maggie. Thank you. You have no idea what it’s meant to her, to see her mother smiling and looking happy. The few pictures I have mostly make her appear morose, as she tended to get those last few years. It’s been wonderful for Sophie to see Lindy in less complicated times.”
“It was my pleasure, Rick. I’m glad they were well received.” She paused and looked out the window as Caroline’s car pulled up the drive. “Well, I see my dinner guest is here. Caro just arrived.”
“Caro and her old man? No pun intended,” he said dryly.
“No. Just Caro. She left Allen.”
“When?”
“A few weeks ago. I don’t know exactly why. I suppose I’ll hear about it tonight. Jamey’s in L.A. for some award thing so I’ll have the whole night to sit and listen and commiserate.”
“Well, tell her… tell her I’ve been thinking about her. And give her my love.”
“It was a mismatch, and I told you it wouldn’t last,” Maggie said smugly to her husband as she poured his coffee on the morning of his return from his trip. “Not that I’m glad it didn’t work out, but I knew she wouldn’t be happy with him. And I’m glad she realized it as soon as she did, before she spent ten or fifteen years in misery.”
“So what is Caroline planning on doing?” J.D. asked as he flipped through his mail.
“She’s going back to work and is getting her life back on track. Actually, she seems relieved. She didn’t cry or accuse Allen of mistreating her or say anything negative about him. Just that she didn’t love him, wasn’t happy, shouldn’t have done it, and she was filing for divorce this week. Period. All very matter-of-fact.”
She looked out the window into the woods behind the house, staring blankly into space. “I hope she’ll be happy with someone someday. I always wondered if someday maybe she and…” Her voice trailed away.
“She and who?”
“Rick,” she said over one shoulder.
“Rick? Rick Daily? You think so?”
She nodded. “I think they would be good for each other. I don’t know that it will ever happen—it seems they’ve missed each other at every turn—but I think they could be very happy together.”
“Well, don’t be playing matchmaker with your two best friends. That rarely works out. And besides, they’ve known each other for years. I’d think if either of them had any serious interest, they’d have made it known by now.”
“I’m not so sure they haven’t.”
“Well, you keep out of it, Maggie. Do not go poking around in other people’s lives.”
“Oh, speaking of poking around in other people’s lives, we got a phone call today from Geoff Fox.”
“Who?”
“Geoff Fox. Remember we met him and his wife at that benefit auction back in July, in London? The guy who produces that TV show with that snoopy woman who tries to get people pissed off on the air when she’s interviewing them so that they’ll say something stupid and make fools out of themselves?”
“Oh,” he laughed, “you mean Hilary Gates.”
“Yes.”
“I do remember him. Nice chap. What did he want?”
“He wanted us to go on her show.”
“Forget it.”
“That’s pretty much what I told him.”
“I hate stuff like that. I hate giving interviews. Why anyone would want to know that much about anyone else’s life is beyond me.” He slid the letter he’d been scanning back into its envelope. “Of course, if my mom finds out we’ve been asked, there’ll be hell to pay if we turn it down. She loves that show.”
“That’s the rest of the story,” she continued, pulling out a chair and seating herself across from him.
“What do you mean?”
“Well, it seems Geoff called your mother for our number here in the States.”
“Oh, no,” he groaned, knowing what was coming next.
“Oh, yes. She called not ten minutes after Geoff, proud as a peacock and wanting to know when the show would be. She’s enthralled.”
“Oh, God,” he grumbled, “how do we get out of this one? That woman is notorious for digging up the most outlandish dirt.”
“Jamey, we’ve nothing to hide. What in our past could possibly qualify for the type of junk she likes to talk about?”
“Well, I can’t think of much,” he conceded.
“I can’t think of anything. The closest she could come would be to poke at my relationship with Rick, you know, the way the newspapers did there for a time when Lindy would go off and I’d be at the house with him or when he’d visit here when you were elsewhere, that sort of thing. But no one ever took any of that seriously. At least, no one with any sense.”
“Glory. She could talk about Glory.”
“What about her? That she throws herself at you every chance she gets? That she’s been throwing herself at you for fifteen years? That she’s a sarcastic bitch who is going to get her face slapped someday?”
“Whoa, Maggie,” he laughed again. “Still touchy, I see.”
“She makes me more than touchy. If I had a dime for every time she has cornered me over the years to inform me that she was still on the case, if I ever thought for one minute that you’d—”
“I wouldn’t. I have the sweetest, sexiest, most loving woman in the world. Why on earth would I want Glory Fielding or anyone else, for that matter, when I have you?”
“Haven’t you ever gotten tired of the same old lady after all these years? You know, in July, next year, we’ll be talking fifteen big ones, Jamey. That’s a long time.”
“Not long enough,” he told her quietly, “and no, I’ve never gotten tired of you. Never wanted anyone else. I love you more than I ever thought it would be possible to love anyone, Maggie, and I will until the day I die.”
“Which hopefully won’t be for a long, long time. It’s all been so good for us, Jamey. We’ve taken a lump or two from time to time, but our life together’s been wonderful. It’s been so right.” She had gotten up and walked around the table to where he sat, and at her approach he had pushed back his chair and opened his arms to her. She sat on his lap and snuggled close. “I wish sometimes that it would never end.”
“It never will, sweetheart,” he told her solemnly, “it never will.”
“Geoff Fox called again this morning,” he told her several weeks later.
“What did you tell him?”
“I told him no. Twice. He told me to talk it over with you and call him back toward the end of the week.”
“Do you want to do it?”
He shrugged.
“We’ll be boring as hell,” she said.
“Probably. I’ll tell him no.”
Geoff had not agreed that they’d be boring. He loved J.D.’s music and thought Maggie was adorable. After three more conversations, J.D. gave in on the condition that the interview wait until the following summer when the family would be in England for their annual holiday.
“That gives us plenty of time to change our minds,” he told Maggie.
They pretty much forgot about the commitment until May when Hilary called them to confirm a date in mid-August. Maggie shrugged it off, unconcerned about it. If Hilary thought she could find a skeleton in their closet, she was welcomed to try. She wasn’t about to waste any time worrying about it. There were dance recitals to plan for, the boys were busy with their softball games
, and the end of the school year was fast approaching. Life was full and good and busy—too busy to look ahead to August. What was the worst thing that could happen?
25
AND SO IT GOES ON… FROM THAT DAY ON THE parkway to the present. And here we sit, Maggie thought, not speaking, not touching. Has the last memory been made, and is it this, this silence, this pain? Is this then the sum of fifteen years?
She tilted her head so that she could look at J.D., and he met her stare with sadly resigned eyes, conceding defeat. He seemed all but dazed, no longer able to make any further effort to appeal to her, but the evidence of his submission brought her no sense of triumph. Rather it stabbed at her someplace deep within, and she felt the depth of his anguish. She recalled the strength of his hands as they had held her up moments before, how he had come to her when he had known she needed him, no longer concerned with keeping score in this senseless game they’d played all evening. Jamey had always been there when she needed him, she acknowledged, and with that admission, the distance between them seemed to narrow.
Maybe, a tiny voice inside suggested, you could at least listen to what he has to say. Maybe, it continued cautiously, one indiscretion, in the context of a lifetime, isn’t enough to negate everything that's come before. Maybe it’s not too late to put it back together again.
Hilary announced a brief commercial break, the last of the evening and, with an abbreviated nod in the direction of the sofa, walked out of the room. She had to regroup her thoughts, to plan her final onslaught.
J.D. wanted to weep; his frustration and the sheer exercise of his will to hold on had left him exhausted. He had given it his best shot, but he had not succeeded. He had not found the key, and so it was done. The show would conclude, and Maggie would leave him. The entire evening had come down to these last few minutes, and he had run out of time, out of memories.
Maggie shifted slightly to face him, was about to speak when he turned to her, unbearable sadness in his eyes.
“Maggie, I know this has been rough on you, and I’m sorry. I want you to know it was never my intention to bring back the pain.” He swallowed hard and cleared his throat, then continued. “I thought maybe if I brought back the good times, made you think about how good our life together has been, that you’d give me a chance to explain. All I wanted was to make you see how much there is between us, how happy we’ve been. And it would seem I’ve failed miserably, that all I’ve managed to do is to resurrect those things that have been our greatest sources of sorrow over the years. And I’m so sorry, Maggie.”
Moments In Time Page 30