The Farmhouse
Page 8
After another round of hugs, things settled, and Maggie asked aloud what they ought to do next.
Gretchen, in spite of herself, began to ramble on about fixing up the farmhouse and living there. Dakota and Ky were equally enthusiastic, their early concern for their mother quickly washed away by the suggestion that they might get to live smack dab in the middle of the woods. Images of Daniel Boone flashed through Rhett’s mind’s eye and he recalled a time when he’d have liked to live farther out of town. A time when he wanted to explore areas unknown.
Briar had started complaining of hunger, and Maggie was losing focus fast.
Rhett cleared his throat. “How about we break for lunch then you can come back and finish looking around?”
Maggie glanced up at him. “Lunch sounds good. But won’t you have to leave soon?”
Color rushed up Rhett’s neck, and—despite the frigid weather—his palms grew slick. He shoved his hands into his pockets and sucked in a breath. “Well, I, ah—actually, I have to make some phone calls myself. And, I figured you’d probably want time to sort through all this as a—ah, you know—as a family?” He finished by scratching the back of his head and sort of twisting away, awkwardly as ever. He felt sixteen all over again. Gretchen’s eyes were on him. His neck flushed deeper.
“Oh, okay,” Maggie replied, her tired face falling. “Well, first join us for lunch. Won’t you?”
“If it’s okay with everyone,” he replied, lifting his eyebrows to the oldest children. Ky and Dakota all but ignored him. Gretchen, he could have sworn, rolled her eyes.
But Briar, sweet Briar, shrieked at the top of her lungs, raced to Rhett and wrapped her little body around his legs.
Apparently, hers was the opinion that mattered most, because soon enough, they were off toward Mally’s.
Where it all began.
SIX BURGERS, THREE chocolate milks, two diet sodas, and one sweet tea later, the motley crew was poised to leave.
Rhett paid the bill, swiftly negating Maggie’s protests, and then they found themselves at the SUV once again. He hadn’t received a call about his truck yet, but now he was just down the street from the garage.
He jutted his chin up Main Street. “I’m going to go check in on the truck. See if it’s done.”
The kids were in the car, except for Gretchen, who stood whispering into her phone a few paces away.
Maggie tore her attention from her oldest daughter, sighing with a smile. “Young love,” she said to Rhett, shaking her head. “Or whatever that is.” She hooked a thumb back toward Gretchen.
Rhett frowned. “She’s dating that kid? Becky’s son?”
“No. I wish she would.”
He chuckled. “Sounds familiar.”
Maggie lifted an arched eyebrow. “Familiar?”
“Come on, Maggie, don’t you remember? My mom always nagged me to ask you out.” A younger Rhett would have been embarrassed at the admission. But they were old enough now that it was a light memory. Nothing more. “I was too scared. You were too pretty,” he confessed, meeting her eyes.
The wind seemed to shut off, and the cold air around them grew a little thicker. “Are you still?” Maggie answered, staring hard at Rhett.
His tongue passed over his lower lip and he fell back half a step, his stomach dipping a little. “Maggie Devereux, are you asking if I’m still scared?”
“It’s Engel to you, Rhett Houston.”
Their banter turned serious. “That’s true. My apologies,” he replied, looking away. “Maggie Engel.” He cleared his throat. All through elementary school and junior high, they were strangers. Then high school hit, and a bond formed. And even as Maggie started dating Travis, the joking didn’t ebb. People accused Maggie and Rhett of liking each other. Whatever that meant. She brushed it off easily, to his disappointment. And then, Travis entered the picture, and Rhett told himself he’d moved on anyway.
“What if I’m not?” The question sort of fell out of his mouth. Rough and low.
Maggie scrunched her face and leaned toward him. “What if you’re not what?”
Rhett took a step toward her, licked his lips, and pushed his hands deeper into his pockets, a fresh burst of wind curling around them, pressing them together. “What if I’m not scared anymore?”
Chapter 22 — Maggie
If only Maggie and Rhett had held back after walking out of Mally’s. Turned right as the kids turned left. They could be in an alley, wrapped in each other’s arms, making up for lost time and missed chances.
She would kiss him. In another time. Another place. Without her kids watching from behind the windshield. Without Gretchen struggling nearby with her own emotions over a fuzzy cell phone connection. Without a... husband.
But Maggie was an adult now, suffering the consequences of her hesitation to file for a divorce. She could kick herself. Presently, with the harshness of retrospect, she didn’t understand her own choices.
Why hadn’t she filed weeks ago? Months ago? Years ago? Right after Briar’s birth, when Travis went to the bar to “celebrate” while Maggie lay propped in a hospital bed, struggling for the fourth time to get her newborn to breastfeed. Worrying about giving up and giving into bottles (when had “bottle” become a bad word, anyway?). Worrying about Gretchen once again standing in as a mother for Ky and Dakota. Worrying that it was all a mistake but remembering that none of it was.
Which was true. Because even though she wanted to push off the pavement and press her mouth into Rhett’s and she could not, would not do that, life was almost perfect.
Four beautiful children.
A house that could be a home.
One of her old best friends who, maybe, loved her. Even if it was just a platonic love.
But everything needed to come together. And the one thing that would bring it together was good decision-making. For once.
“Come with me,” she blurted out.
Rhett frowned. “To the farmhouse?”
“To the bank,” she answered. “Then the attorney’s office. Come with me. Help me. Please, Rhett. Won’t you?” She stared into his eyes, searching for his answer.
He sighed. “I’d love to, Maggie, but—”
“Oh my,” she replied, her hand over her mouth. “You’re probably married. Oh, Rhett. How could I... I never asked. You’re... married, aren’t you? I’m so stupid, I—” Her estrangement from Travis suddenly dissipated. None of it mattered if Rhett had someone. And why wouldn’t he? Muscular and tall. Kind and hardworking. Rhett, she realized for the first time in her life, was a great catch.
“No, no, no,” he replied, holding his hands up. “No, I’m single, actually. Recently single. Never married. No kids. I’m free, in fact, but you’re—”
A grin spread across her mouth and she glanced back to the kids. Gretchen, who’d apparently ended her phone call, had loaded herself into the front seat of the SUV. “We’ll give you a ride up to the garage. It’s too cold to stand out here a moment longer.”
He did as he was told, pulling himself into the second seat as Dakota climbed into the far back. Rhett apologized, but Dakota didn’t seem to mind.
Ky, on the other hand, bore a hole through the rearview mirror at Maggie.
“Where are we going?” he huffed from the far back.
“Dropping Mr. Rhett at his truck then running errands. We’re settling everything to-day,” she replied, stabbing her index finger on each syllable.
Gretchen peered out of the corner of her eye at her mother. “What’s ‘everything’?”
IT HAD BEEN EXACTLY one day almost down to the hour. One day since she arrived home to a thin, pink sheet. One day since she emergency-packed and threw the kids in the SUV. One day since she overreacted.
Now there she was, back at their home on Pine Tree Lane.
Everything sat exactly how it had the day before with one exception.
A For Sale sign. Shoved deep into the cold, soggy earth next to her mailbox. Courtesy of the bank.
There was no other option. Travis made that painfully clear in a pointed text message. The only one she would ever receive from him. All future correspondence, he claimed, could go through his mother. But that was fine, and she was grateful he’d answered at last.
The message had offered a one-word apology, if you could call it that. No justification or explanation. Simply an incomplete sentence about meeting someone else and figuring things out.
She had tapped out a message about the kids, a divorce, and custody plans then quickly deleted it. Instead, she screenshot his words, texted the picture to Becky and asked Becky to send it to Zack Durbin, Esquire. Then, she sent a new response, requesting his new address.
He never replied.
Maggie had to force herself from wondering if he ever would. Part of her would much rather have a blow-out fight than silence... or wondering.
But it was out of her control now. And she had two weeks to empty the house, per the arrangement with the bank.
So there they were: an exhausted Maggie. An irritable Gretchen. Two wound-up pre-teen boys. And one snoring preschooler.
Rhett was negotiating at the garage with Travis’s underlings who, instead of simply changing out the tire, took it upon themselves to rebuild his front end for some reason unknown to everyone. Maggie offered to stay with him to talk some sense into the grease monkeys, but he refused, telling her they would reconnect after she took the kids back to the house to take a break.
Perhaps Rhett needed a break from them, too. After all, he ended up joining her on her errands, acting as something of a translator for Maggie who tried but failed to keep her emotions in check in front of the business-faced bank manager who explained the circumstances of the foreclosure and also revealed that Travis had everything (everything—as in he showed up to sign off on some documents) in order for a smooth transition.
His parting gift, Maggie thought sadly. A smooth transition from having a perfectly good home to almost nothing, save for the oddly preserved farmhouse on the outskirts of town.
But Travis didn’t know about the farmhouse.
Where did he think Maggie and the kids would live? Oh, right. With his mother, who had called Maggie no fewer than a dozen times in the past hour leaving accusatory voicemails and terse texts. It seemed she’d learned about her rotten son and made the decision his actions were a result of Maggie’s weak efforts at wifehood. Even so, the woman tacked on to the end of each message that Maggie and the kids could come stay with her until they fixed their little problem. Mrs. Engel’s callous attempt at grace.
Grace, however, would not be huddling together in that harsh woman’s house where children were not allowed to touch anything and where it would be indecent for Maggie to share a bed with her grown daughter (as had been the accusation years before when the house was fumigated and the family had their first experience as house guests in that cramped three-bedroom. Mrs. Engel clucked her tongue when Travis called at eleven at night to say he’d just stay with a buddy to save them the space. So instead of letting Gretchen and Briar squeeze onto the sofa, Maggie invited them into her bed. Mrs. Engel fumed at the “odd” choice and offered them all the silent treatment for breakfast.)
Grace.
Grace was her inheritance.
And, of course, there was Rhett Houston, too. Single. In town on some sort of trip down memory lane. Kind and happy to help a mom in distress.
Too bad Maggie would never date again. Not even if she wanted to kiss him or anyone else in the whole wide world. For Maggie, romance was officially a thing of the past. As for now, she needed to get her act together.
Chapter 23 — Gretchen
Theo was blowing up her phone. Her joy over the farmhouse was his, too. Her stress over returning to their home was his stress, too. And her thick hatred for her father was Theo’s mission.
“You can’t just take it lying down,” he whispered to her as they lounged in her bedroom—her almost former bedroom—upstairs. Briar was taking a late nap. The boys were zoning out to TV. Her mom was packing, and Gretchen knew that any minute Maggie would appear in her doorway, hands on hips, acid on her tongue that Gretchen better get her butt downstairs and help, now!
She turned to face Theo, who sat in her desk chair. A third of a scarf sat on her lap, its dutiful crochet hook in her right hand, yarnless for now. She’d been overjoyed to find the project that she’d been frantically searching for the day before. “What do you mean? We aren’t taking anything lying down? We’re packing and moving,” she replied evenly.
“I mean your mom should sue him or something. Or have a cop find him and drag him back here to... to...”
“To what, Theo? Men leave their wives and families all the time. My mom’s dad left. Your dad left. They leave.” It was a great opportunity to give Theo a meaningful look, or even a searching one. But Gretchen couldn’t stand to lock eyes. “Don’t become a husband and father. It does something to men,” she added lightly, jabbing her hook into the end of a row on the scarf, pinching the line of yarn with the other hand, and wrapping it into place with a sigh of satisfaction.
“My dad didn’t leave,” Theo replied, standing from his seat. “My parents split up. Remember? Or are you too focused on your own drama?”
Gretchen looked up from her lap, shocked, to see Theo turn and leave the room. “Theo, wait!” she called.
Though he didn’t turn around, his long legs slowed to a stop at the beginning of the hallway.
Obviously she was focused on her own drama. How dare he suggest that she was being selfish? And anyway, his life was literally perfect. Before he walked away again, she inhaled a sharp breath then spat, “Yeah I’m focused on my own drama. Because I actually have some. There is literally nothing wrong in your life, Theodore Linden. You’ve got it all.” He began to turn, and she snapped her mouth shut. Too far. She’d taken it way too far.
“I’m sorry,” she began, meeting his soft gaze.
But he didn’t seem angry. He seemed sad. “I’ve got it all? That’s what you think?” he began, turning to face her fully, his arms crossed over his chest.
Gretchen swallowed hard and peered at him, shaking her head slowly. She’d never seen Theo like this. Take-charge and brusque. Defiant and steely-eyed. Her skin prickled and her blood pooled in her chest, making breathing harder work than it had been just moments before.
Theo shook his head, too, mimicking her. “You’re right, Gretchen. And I’m sorry you’re going through this. You’re right. Life is easier for me right now. But I can promise you one thing. I don’t have it all. Because I don’t have you.”
And with that, he turned and left.
Gretchen heard him stomp down the staircase, say something to her mother, and then fade into the echoing chambers of the downstairs.
It never occurred to her that Theo liked her.
Mostly, it never occurred to her that she liked him back.
Chapter 24 — Rhett
Rhett had just passed Theo on his way out of the house. The boy’s face turned away, his hands deep in his coat pockets, his feet hitting the walkway with a purpose.
Maggie stood in the doorway, her hands on her hips, hair piled high on her head in a messy bun. Amusement filled her clean, freckled face.
“What’s going on?” Rhett began to ask, but his question was quickly answered when Gretchen, barefoot despite the frost, tore past her mother, down the porch, and nearly tackled Theo.
Rhett and Maggie watched together as Theo turned, bewildered at Gretchen’s surprise attack but fast-thinking, scooped her up off the sidewalk. Before Rhett could find out where the bizarre show of affection was coming from—or where it was going—Maggie tugged him inside.
“Wow,” she said once they were safely behind a closed front door. Mischief played across her features contagiously. Rhett smiled back.
“What was that all about?” he asked, suddenly aware that Maggie was still holding onto his hand. Aware that Ky and Dakota were standing at the bottom of her stairs watching.
“What’s going on?” Ky asked, accusation in his voice.
Maggie dropped Rhett’s hand. “Nothing.” She shook her head. “Well, Gretchen and Theo,” she went on. “Oh, nothing. Don’t worry about it. Gretchen is outside with Theo. That’s all.” She flicked a glance up at Rhett then back to her sons. “Why don’t you two take a break from TV and start working on your room. Two weeks, remember?” She clapped her hands up at them, and they scrambled off obediently but not before Ky turned his head to Rhett, a frown set across his little mouth.
Clearing his throat, Rhett told Maggie that his truck was done, front end and all, for the price of a new tire. Time to get going. He had to return to Louisville.
Her smile faded then lit back up. “Wait! Before you go. I want to... show you something,” she said, nodding her head toward the kitchen.
Once they were there, Maggie scooped her phone from the table and held the screen to his face.
A green box with a long text exchange glowed at him.
The name of the sender: Zack Durbin, their old pal from high school—Becky’s high school sweetheart, in fact. He’d become a local lawyer. For the school district mainly, but he’d recently taken over his father’s formerly defunct law firm.
“What does this mean?” he asked Maggie, finding himself all of a sudden uncomfortable with a window into her personal affairs. Too close to the fire. Then again, he had been for the past twenty-four hours. Maybe it was too late. Maybe Rhett already was involved in her personal affairs.
Actually, he hoped he was.
She blinked. “It means Zack is going to help me. Pro bono. Becky stopped by and picked up the paperwork I filled out. If Travis and I are both willing to file amicably and we get the paperwork in and do the settlement conference and parenting classes, then wait sixty days...” She stopped for a breath. “I’m free. We’re free. The kids and me, I mean.” She added the last part to quell his discomfort, no doubt. Maybe her own, too.