“I’m here to see you, as a matter of fact,” Maggie interjected, her voice cold and void of any emotion whatsoever.
Her gaze trailed down in time to see Rebecca’s throat bob with a hard swallow, which drew her attention to the iridescent sparkle of diamonds reflecting the downlights, shining from the base of her slender neck. “That’s a beautiful necklace you’re wearing.”
As if without thinking, Rebecca lifted a hand, her delicate fingers idly tracing the precious stones of the necklace while her eyes glazed over. But she quickly composed herself. Shaking her head again, she pushed up from her chair, standing to a height that, even from behind the desk, towered over Maggie’s five feet four inches.
Rebecca looked down her perfect nose at Maggie. With a condescending smile, and a patronizing tone in her voice she said, “Why don’t you take a seat, and I’ll let one of the partners know you’re here.”
While Maggie had never been one to cause a scene—she’d always loathed unwanted attention—on this occasion she swallowed the trepidation that lingered at the back of her throat, silencing the voice in her head that was pleading for her to walk away. Walk away, Maggie. Be the bigger person. No. Not today. She was so sick and tired of doing what she was told; all that ever had awarded her was a cheating, dead husband. So, steadying Rebecca with a steely regard, she leaned in as close as the desk would allow, staring directly into the woman’s azure eyes. And, with a low, gravelly voice that cut through the thick silence like a serrated butcher’s knife, she whispered, “You fucking whore.”
Rebecca gasped, looking down to see the crumpled-up Empire napkin as it fell from Maggie’s trembling fingers and landed on her desk, her eyes widening with horror as realization came crashing over her.
“How long?”
With eyes full of tears, Rebecca looked up from the discarded napkin, meeting Maggie’s beseeching gaze. Her nostrils flared as she raked her teeth over her painted-pink lips, obviously stalling, obviously thinking of some kind of excuse. But there was no excuse; the proof was right there in front of her in black and white.
“How long?” Maggie asked again, her voice louder, more demanding.
“I-I don’t … I’m not …” Rebecca stumbled over her words, panicking. She glanced furtively around the foyer as if searching for a lifeline, her hands shaking as she smoothed down the front of her prim silk blouse. “It’s not what you think … I was—”
“Don’t you dare lie to me!” Maggie hissed. And, unable to keep her emotions in check a moment longer, she reached for the only thing she could get her hands on. The glass jar full of individually wrapped candies that sat on the front desk never stood a chance. With every last ounce of strength she could muster, she picked it up and threw the jar across the space, causing it to shatter against the marble floor with an almighty crash.
Taking an unsteady step backward, Rebecca’s face was stark with fear and horror. Hurried footfalls sounded from the hallway behind the frosted glass wall of the reception area, and a man came running into the foyer, his eyes bulging with concern.
“How long?” Maggie screamed, her painfully raw voice cracking as hot tears hit her cheeks.
“What is going on?” the man asked, moving in front of Rebecca as if to shield her from the unpredictable danger of the crazy woman throwing glass jars.
“Maggie?” A familiar voice sounded from close by.
Maggie blinked hard, turning as James tentatively stepped into the foyer, his eyes full of alarm as they flitted from her to Rebecca to the smashed glass on the floor. His brows knitted together as he asked, “What’s wrong?”
“Did you know?” Maggie cried in response, searching his face.
His eyes bored into hers as he held his hands up in defense, shaking his head slowly. “I have no idea what’s going on …” He spoke so calmly, so steadily, taking a careful step forward. “Talk to me.” He glanced briefly in Rebecca’s direction, taking another step closer to Maggie. “Tell me what’s going on.”
A sob bubbled up the back of Maggie’s throat, one she was unable to contain. She pointed an accusatory finger at the blonde who was now an inconsolable mess, crying on the shoulder of the hero who had come to her rescue. “Her and T-Tom! He was … he was having an a-affair with her!” she stammered through her emotion before breaking down completely.
“Hey, come here.” James quickly swooped in, collecting her in his arms before she could crumble to the floor, which was smattered with shards of broken glass and wayward candies. He pulled her against his chest, his hand rubbing soothing circles over her back as she heaved with every uncontrollable sob that racked through her.
“He was lying to me,” Maggie cried, her tears staining James’s white Oxford shirt. “He was … They were …” She couldn’t finish her words, they hurt too much.
“Come on.” James tucked her closer into his side, walking her toward the door while spearing Rebecca with a withering glare. “Let’s get out of here,” he whispered.
Maggie glanced back over her shoulder, finding Rebecca watching on with mascara-stained tear tracks covering her cheeks, her eyes red rimmed, the whites bloodshot.
“I hope you’re happy now!”
Rebecca covered her face with her hands, her shoulders trembling through her sobs.
Maggie allowed James to assist her out of the lobby and into a waiting elevator, and once they were safely inside, the metal doors shutting out the rest of the world, she allowed herself to break down right there, James’s strong arms the only thing keeping her from falling in a heap on the floor.
***
The flow of downtown traffic was at a standstill on Congress Street, impatient drivers beeping their horns to the tune of the construction work going on all around. The rain had eased some but the thick gray clouds up above warned that another torrential downpour wasn’t too far away. The unpredictable Boston weather was a constant reminder of Maggie’s inner melancholy as she stared unseeingly out at the city street. Blissfully ignorant people walked by, completely unaware of the unbearable agony plaguing her. The painful assault of her own emotions was unrelenting. She envied the strangers who walked past. She wished she could be one of them.
Naively, she’d thought it would be different after confronting Rebecca. Easier. Now that she knew the truth. That Tom was a cheating bastard. Like ripping off a Band-Aid, she’d thought she’d be able to move on from her dead husband and finally start to rebuild her life. But it wasn’t different. It wasn’t easier. And she doubted she could ever repair her heart after such an unforgivable act, an act she now couldn’t deal with because Tom was dead. She had no choice but to just learn to, somehow, live with it without any semblance of explanation or apology because he wasn’t here to give her one. No closure whatsoever.
James reappeared, placing a to-go cup of coffee down in front of Maggie before taking the chair next to her. He sipped his coffee, watching her closely, the weight of his stare almost stifling. She avoided his gaze, continuing to stare out at the bustling city street, her cold hands wrapped around her coffee cup which helped to warm the iciness that had settled inside her.
“So, you really didn’t know?” Maggie asked after a beat, still unable to look at him. She noticed him shift in his seat from her periphery, and when he released a heavy sigh, she knew immediately that he was biding his time. She finally offered him a sideways glance, meeting his eyes.
“I mean—I had my suspicions.” James shook his head. “They were always … friendly with one another. A little too friendly if you ask me. Sometimes they’d go to lunch together, and if I said I’d join them, he’d stop me, tell me he was getting her to take notes on a new case over a sandwich. Said he was helping her out because she was planning on studying to be a paralegal.” He shrugged. “But … there was just something about the little jokes they’d share. It was borderline inappropriate. So, I came right out and asked him to his face.”
Maggie’s eyes widened with surprise. “What did he say?”
&n
bsp; He pressed his lips together, shaking his head, his gaze drifting through the window to the dreary day outside. “Called me crazy. Said he loved you and the boys, that he would never do such a thing.” He met her eyes as he continued, “He was my best friend. Of course I believed him. And I knew how much he loved you.”
She sighed, her shoulders falling. “Yeah, evidently not enough to stop from screwing his receptionist. It’s an actual cliché …” she scoffed, glancing down at her coffee. “I’ve been racking my brain trying to think of the catalyst of our downfall, where it all went so wrong that he felt forced to seek comfort with another woman, that an affair was his only option, but I can’t.” She offered James a hopeless look. “Our marriage was almost perfect. Well, it was until about six months ago. Then he started to pull away. Now I know why. But it still doesn’t explain why he did what he did. He loved me and I loved him. We were best friends and lovers, and partners. I just—I don’t get it.” She shook her head. “God, I almost feel sorry for her.”
“Who? Rebecca?” James guffawed.
She shrugged again. “Yeah, I mean … I know better than anyone what it’s like to fall in love with Tom Morris. And, as messed up as it is …” She paused, a derisive, humorless laugh slipping from her lips. “As messed up as it is, she lost him too.”
***
Maggie kept herself busy when she returned home from her meltdown in the city. She put away the groceries that had been delivered from the store, she did laundry, cleaned the house from top to bottom. But even those arduous tasks only helped to take her mind off things for so long. When she was finished, the place was spotless, everything put in its rightful spot, the scent of a vanilla and rhubarb candle lingering low in the air. But as she stood at the island counter, staring at the breakfast table, at the vase of calla lilies that sat in its center, their delicate petals beginning to wilt and fall to the glass tabletop, the silence was almost too much to bear.
Never before had the place she’d called home for the last ten years of her life felt so empty. Never before had she felt so alone in all her thirty-six years.
She thought back to how many laughs she’d shared with Tom and the boys at that very kitchen table. The Saturday mornings when TJ was a chubby toddler making a mess of his Cheerios while Jack sat dressed in his little league uniform, bouncing up and down excitedly, ready to play his very best while his daddy watched on from the stands.
She remembered the nights she would be in this kitchen tidying up after a casual family dinner while Tom tucked the boys into bed. He’d stroll in after getting them to sleep, smiling at Maggie in that way that was so him, watching as she wiped down the table. The look in his eyes was one of both adoration and mischief, desire and lust. Sometimes, he would come right up behind her, his hands gripping her hips, lips attaching to the base of her neck. She would turn in his arms and their kiss would turn fervent and needy. Sometimes, they would make love right there on the kitchen table, because even after so much time together they were still so undeniably in love with one another in every single way.
Maggie tried to swallow the lump of emotion which dwelled painfully at the back of her throat, but as tears burned her eyes that lump was well and truly stuck there. Blinking hot tears onto her cheeks, she glanced down at the countertop, sniffling quietly. How was it that in a place full of so many beautiful memories, in the house she’d made a home with her family, the past was suddenly and without warning nothing more than a bad case of a broken heart? This was her home. A place of love. Now, she felt uncomfortable and unwelcomed, surrounded by lies, deceit and betrayal. It was almost like she didn’t belong there anymore.
How could he do this to her? To their children? Why would he do such a thing? They were meant to be for forever.
Slapping a hand over her mouth to stifle the sob bubbling out of her, Maggie closed her eyes tight. But when the weight of everything became too much, she turned and slid down the cabinet doors, crumbling to a heap. She hugged her knees to her chest and she cried. She cried for Tom. She cried for TJ and Jack. She cried for all that she’d loved, and everything she’d lost. Hell, she even cried for Rebecca Holmes. Right there, on the hardwood floor, Maggie cried like she’d never cried before.
Chapter 6
A few weeks had passed since discovering the awful truth of her husband’s secret, double life. April had turned into May. Spring had officially sprung. The dreary rain made way for the sunshine. But Maggie was still a mess on the inside, despite how together she’d been trying to appear on the outside. She went about her days like she always had. She’d wake up, shower. She took the boys to school, ran errands, but then she’d come straight back home and cry all alone until it was time to go and collect TJ and Jack.
She spent her days trying so hard to keep her mind busy and void of the heartbreaking truth she was forced to keep buried. The truth she needed to pretend didn’t really exist. The truth she couldn’t risk her boys finding out. But nothing worked. And whenever she found herself idle, her traitorous mind taunted her with images of her husband with another woman. Images that would likely remain there forever.
She’d been taking each day at a time, each hour, each agonizing second, merely surviving until she could go to bed at night and try to forget it all. But that’s when the harrowing thoughts of what could have been would torment her, leaving her sleepless and mentally exhausted and drained. Now, her life was nothing more than one big, never-ending bad dream she couldn’t seem to wake up from.
It was Friday night and Jack was at his friend’s house playing some new video game that had just been released. So, it was only Maggie and TJ. They sat together on the sofa in the den, eating popcorn and watching a movie from TJ’s favorite superhero franchise. But TJ was tired, and just twenty minutes into the film, Maggie felt his head bobbing against her arm. He finally gave up his fight and fell asleep, and she’d been forced to watch Thor for an hour and a half. Not that Thor, or Chris Hemsworth, was anything to complain about.
When the movie finally finished, Maggie took the moment to really look at her baby. His dark hair was overgrown, flopping down over his forehead. Thick lashes fanned over his pale cheeks. His hand clutched the afghan so close to his chin as if it was a shield from all that was bad in the world. He looked so small, so innocent, so vulnerable. She wanted to wrap her arms around him, hold him tight and never let him go. But he was sleeping and she didn’t dare wake him.
Shifting carefully, she reached for the remote, turning off the television. Casting a wary glance at her son, she held her breath as she pushed up from the sofa, slowly so as not to wake him. TJ sighed heavily but then nestled down into the plush couch cushion, curling up soundly. Maggie briefly considered carrying him up to his room, but she wasn’t nearly strong enough. She was only five feet four, and although he was only ten years old, he was a solid unit. She didn’t want to wake him. He needed his sleep. So, with a gentle kiss to the top of his head, she pulled the cover up and tip toed out of the room, dimming the lights on her way.
With a list of to-do items she hadn’t gotten around to over the last couple months, Maggie made herself a cup of herbal tea and decided to get a start on the things she’d been putting off. Updating the insurance, paying the electric and all the other mundane tasks she was now responsible for. Tom had always been the one in charge of the finances. She was never good with money. She could spend it, but keep track of it? Not so much. Now, clueless, she was left to her own devices to muddle through the confusing spreadsheet he’d created over the years.
Ambling into the small office, Maggie flicked the light switch with her elbow while looking down at the handful of window-faced envelopes. She made herself comfortable in the cushy leather desk chair as she turned on the computer.
A photo of her, Tom and the boys from a few years back when they’d vacationed on Nantucket, caught her eye. She reached for the frame, looking closer at the picture. Sadness washed over her, but so did a smile. TJ was holding a big shell he’d found on
the beach, smiling, so proud of himself. Jack had his arm around his little brother’s shoulders, offering a thumbs-up to the camera. Her gaze zeroed in on Tom and she studied him closely. Dressed in a crisp linen shirt, unbuttoned to his sternum which hinted at his strong chest and tanned skin. His dark hair was untamed and unruly in stark contrast to the slicked-back style he wore to the office every day. He looked striking, effortlessly cool. And with a carefree Maggie by his side wearing no more than a bikini top and a pair of jean shorts, the four of them gave off the illusion of the picture-perfect happy family.
Maggie’s eyes narrowed instinctively as her probing subconscious began to wonder whether he was cheating on her back then. Shaking her head, she dismissed those same dark thoughts that had taken up permanent residence in her mind. It was beginning to get the better of her, but she couldn’t let it. She wouldn’t. Placing the frame back where it had been sitting, she chose instead to focus on the task at hand as the computer came to life through the dim light of the room.
With the bills taken care of, Maggie was about to shut down when a notification alert chimed, indicating a new email. Curiosity got the better of her, and when she clicked on the pop-up she was immediately captivated by the digital real estate brochure radiating back at her from the screen.
A photograph of a picturesque lake framed by lush green spruce trees and striking red maples appeared before her. The inky water looked like glass, reflecting the fluffy white clouds sitting high up in a cerulean sky. And there in the middle of it all sat a rustic colonial home surrounded by nothing but an idyllic New England backdrop.
A few years earlier, Tom and Maggie had entertained the idea of purchasing a holiday house. A way to get out of the city, far from the pressures of their day-to-day lives. A place to spend long weekends and summers with the boys, to watch them thrive and grow and appreciate the beauty of nature. Maggie, ever the dreamer, signed up to myriad newsletters with estate agencies in the northern New England region so she could be notified of any new listings when they became available. But sadly, their dream never came to fruition as life always managed to get in the way. But now life was at a standstill, and she couldn’t stop herself from reading the digital listing presented before her.
The Long Way Home Page 4