“No husband,” Maggie snapped, her tone sharp and uncharacteristically terse. Moving her hands out of sight by stuffing them into the back pockets of her jeans, she managed a tight-lipped smile, her gaze narrowed dubiously. “Why would you want to help me? You don’t even know me.”
“I’m Evan,” he said with a casual smile. “I fix boats down at the wharf.” He pointed to his shirt and she narrowed her eyes to make out the faded wording, Hannigan’s Boat Repairs. She quirked a brow, staring down at his proffered hand as it hung awkwardly in the air between them, calloused fingers smeared with grease.
“And … this is usually the point in a conversation where you offer your name in exchange.” Evan laughed under his breath. “Or even just a hey, Evan, nice to meet you, would do,” he added, a high pitch timbre in his voice as he tried to sound like a woman.
Maggie finally shook his hand, meeting his smiling eyes. She didn’t know this man, this Evan, if that was his real name. For all she knew, he was just some creep who hung out at the hardware store waiting for an unsuspecting woman like her to take advantage of. Or, maybe her mind was getting a little carried away with itself.
“Maggie. Maggie Morris.”
“See? Now I know you,” Evan retorted with a smug smile, continuing, “This is a small town, Maggie. We help each other out when we can … it’s just what we do around here.”
Maggie assessed him. She concluded that this man probably was just trying to be friendly and, from the few interactions she’d had with the locals so far, it seemed this was what people were like in Jewel Harbor. But this was supposed to be her new life as a strong, independent woman; she couldn’t accept help from the first man to offer, no matter how handsome he was.
“Thanks for the offer, Evan, but I can manage.” She pressed her lips together in the semblance of a smile. “I’m sure these will be fine,” she said, taking the box of bugle screws from him and tossing them into her buggy with the rest of her items. She turned and began wheeling the cart toward the counter, leaving him standing there alone in the aisle.
“Don’t forget this!”
Maggie stopped, turning to find him holding a shiny screwdriver in his hand, the metal reflecting the fluorescent lights above, every shimmering glint mocking her. She groaned internally. With a forced smile that concealed her gritted teeth, she took it from him with a muttered thanks, and turned away, noticing the slightly trite smile lingering on his lips.
“Bye, Maggie,” he said with a soft chuckle.
She threw a quick wave over her shoulder, hurrying as fast as she could, unable to risk another glance back at him.
Chapter 11
On her way back from picking the boys up at the hotel, Maggie received the itemized quote from Ned. For everything from the new roof to the furnace replacement, the porch deck and stairs, and all the little jobs she’d mentioned she wanted to do to improve the inside, the total price came to … a lot. Too much. Way more than she had. She’d stupidly looked at the email while stopped at the traffic lights in the center of town. Then she’d ended up getting honked by the car behind, and had dropped her cell in the process. She felt sick the entire way home.
There was no way she could afford to fork out that amount of money. Doing so would leave her with less than nothing in their rainy day fund. And she couldn’t do that. It was too much of a risk. She was all the boys had left. All she kept thinking was, what if something happened to her? TJ and Jack would have no one and nothing. It was unlikely Tom’s father would help out; not that she would accept help from him, even if he did. Maggie refused to put them in that situation, but they also needed a roof over their head which didn’t leak.
By the time they pulled up to the house, Maggie was a mess, but, thankfully, the movers were gone and everything was in its rightful place, which helped to ease her anxiety some. There were a lot of boxes lying around to unpack, but the old house was starting to look and feel a lot more like a home. It just needed repairs costing a whole heap of money she didn’t have. Maggie rolled her eyes at that taunting thought as she placed her purse and keys on the console table by the front door.
“Boys, can you please help me unload the things from the car?”
TJ paused halfway up the stairs before stomping back down the steps like the baby elephant he was. He stood in front of Maggie as if he was reporting for duty, and she couldn’t help but smile, ruffling a hand through his thick mane of chocolate brown hair. Then she glanced over to find Jack flopping down onto the couch, kicking his feet up to rest his sneakers on the cushion, completely ignoring her.
She sighed. “Jack?”
He didn’t bother looking up from his cell.
“Jack!” She raised her voice, placing a hand on her hip. When he finally obliged her with a perfunctory glance, she said, “I need your help.”
“Later,” he muttered.
Now, normally, Maggie might’ve let that slide. She could admit, shamefully so, that she’d never really been the parent to make the demands. It had always been Tom’s role. And she was beginning to realize she’d done herself an injustice with Jack because he didn’t seem to respect her the way a child should respect a parent. Things had to change, and quick.
Maggie glanced sideways to find TJ watching on. She swallowed her hesitation, and moved to stand over him. “No, Jack.” Her steely tone captured his attention, and when he met her eyes, she offered her most serious look. “Now.”
He stared at her for a long moment, his face otherwise impassive save for the look of disdain flaring in his gaze. But, after a few beats, he sighed heavily, tossing his phone onto the couch cushion before heaving himself up. With a few incomprehensible words murmured under his breath, he stormed his way out the door.
Maggie mentally high-fived herself because, regardless of his attitude and sass, she considered that a win.
***
Jack made the decision that, instead of sleeping on the same floor as the rest of his family, he wanted to turn the attic into his bedroom and sleep up there. He’d been traipsing up and down the stairs all afternoon, huffing and puffing, removing load after load of dusty old boxes, discarded furniture and whatever else the prior homeowners, the McDaniels, had stored up there over the fifty years they’d occupied the residence. Maggie had been helping TJ unpack his boxes in his bedroom. They heard the occasional, and often hilarious, high-pitched shriek followed by an excessively long hiss of the can of bug spray Jack had taken up to the attic with him. The both of them giggling quietly each time.
“Mom?”
Maggie looked up from where she was storing away some of TJ’s winter clothes in the bottom drawer of his dresser, turning to find him watching her from his place on the rug. That was when she noticed his old baseball glove and ball in his hands, and instinctively her chest tightened. With a soft sigh, she crossed the room, moving to sit on the floor beside him.
“What is it, honey?” she asked, gently placing a hand on his shoulder. She glanced down to where he was absentmindedly tossing the ball into the mitt.
“Do you think …” He stopped himself, lifting his chin and meeting her eyes, his teeth clamping down on his bottom lip as he seemed to contemplate his words. “Do you think it would be okay if I went back to little league?”
Her brows climbed high, her eyes widening. She definitely hadn’t been expecting that. She wanted to smile, desperately, because she never thought she’d hear him mutter those words ever again. And yet, there he was, ball in hand, a hopeful look of trepidation in his eyes as if he wasn’t sure he should be asking such a thing.
She cleared her throat, schooling her expression. “Do you … do you want to go back to little league?”
TJ released a heavy sigh, his slight shoulders falling as he stared longingly at the ball in his hand. He nodded, but then he looked at Maggie once more, his gaze full of apprehension. “I do. But it … it feels wrong.”
She gauged his reaction a moment, frowning with confusion. “Why does it feel wrong?�
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“Because I really love playing baseball, but Daddy’s … in heaven.” He looked away to the far corner of the room, focusing on nothing, his eyes glazing over for a moment. He shrugged one of his slight shoulders, continuing, “I feel like I should be sad, not playing baseball.”
Maggie was taken aback by that statement. It sent a chill down her spine. “TJ, you can feel whichever way you want to feel. Sad, angry, happy …” She shook her head when he looked at her. “There’s no certain way anyone should feel right now. And, if you want to go back to little league, then you absolutely should. And I bet Daddy would want that because he knew how much you love baseball, and he’d want nothing more than for you to be happy again.” She hated that those last few words tasted like poison on her tongue. She wanted so much to wish it were true, that Tom had wanted nothing more than for his sons to be happy, but, now, she simply didn’t know if that was true or if it was just part of the lie Tom had lived.
“Remember when he used to stand with Coach? And Coach would go mad at him for yelling too loud.” TJ smiled wistfully. “Coach banned him from coming anywhere near the diamond during play time.”
Maggie found herself smiling, her mind wandering back to a couple of years ago. She’d been at home in the backyard tending to the rose garden she’d been trying to get to flower all season. Tom came huffing out through the French doors and she looked over her shoulder to see his face set so angry, hands on his hips as he paced back and forth along the patio, taking a few deep breaths.
“What’s wrong?” she asked, standing up, her heart suddenly at the back of her throat. “Is TJ okay?”
Tom paused, glancing at her. He waved a hand in the air. “Yeah, he’s fine.” He continued pacing. “But that asshole, Todd Derry.” He sneered at the mention of TJ’s little league coach. Shaking his head, he muttered something under his breath before continuing, “Can you believe he actually had me banned from the diamond?”
Maggie’s eyed widened. “Tom, what’d you do?”
“Me?” He was incredulous, pointing at himself like he couldn’t possibly believe she would immediately assume he did anything to get himself banned from a little league diamond. “I was simply standing there by the dugout, telling TJ how to—”
“Tom!” Maggie interjected. “You’re not the coach. Todd is.”
Tom gaped at her. “That’s my kid!” He threw his hand back in the direction of the house. “I’m his father. I have every right to tell him how I think he should hit a goddamn ball. I know a hell of a lot more about baseball than Todd Derry!” He exclaimed his name with a derisive snort, ever the mature adult.
Maggie rolled her eyes behind the tint of her sunglasses but she remained silent. If there was one thing she knew, it was when to let her husband go off on one of his self-righteous tangents.
“I’m going to write a letter to the League.” And with that he’d turned and stormed back inside, leaving her alone with the rose bushes.
Maggie couldn’t help but laugh at the memory now. “Oh, I remember. He came home in a real huff. He was going to write a letter of complaint to the League!” She smiled. “I talked him out of it once he managed to calm down.”
TJ giggled but then he pressed his lips together, swallowing hard. “I kind of … am.” He chanced a glance at her before continuing, “Starting to feel happy again, I mean.”
Her heart swelled in her chest and tears pricked her eyes.
He went on, “I mean, I’m still sad that he’s gone. And I miss him so much. I’ll always miss him. But … I’m also happy. You know?” He took a look around his room, adding, “And I like it here. This house, the trees, the lake … You can smell the ocean in the breeze when the windows are open. It makes me happy. And I think Daddy would have liked it here, too.”
Swallowing her emotion, Maggie managed a nod. Thinking of Tom being there with them in their new life, it spoiled it somehow. She hated how, now she knew the truth, all thoughts of Tom were tainted. If she were being honest with herself, if he were still around, she wouldn’t want him here after what he’d done. But she smiled, pushing those thoughts aside.
“You should play little league again.” She wiped at her tears with the back of her hand, laughing once to cover the sob bubbling out of her. “In fact, why don’t I make a few calls tomorrow to find out where we can sign up. Does that sound okay?”
With a small smile, TJ nodded, looking from Maggie to his ball and back again. And she couldn’t hold it any longer. She wrapped her arms around him so tight she wasn’t even sure he’d be able to breathe. Closing her eyes, she basked in the feeling of her son safe in her embrace. She smiled despite those pesky tears. But this time, they were happy tears.
Chapter 12
Given the fact they had little food in the house, Maggie decided to treat the boys to dinner at the pub. After scrubbing away the dirt and grime she had collected throughout the day, she actually made somewhat of an effort for the first time in a long while. She blow-dried her hair, applied some mascara and a little blush. She chose a nice pair of jeans with a cute satin camisole beneath a pretty cashmere cardigan. This was their first official night out as a family of three in their new home; it was worth the effort.
After parking the car, her muscles were stiff and achy as she followed Jack and TJ down the sidewalk to the bustling Crown Jewel. The sound of music, and the jovial voices accompanying it, spilled out into the night air through the open doors and windows lining the patio, floating through Main Street and mixing with the low-lying scent of the ocean.
They paused awkwardly in the doorway, waiting with uncertainty. Maggie wasn’t sure if they should wait to be shown to a table or not. The only places they used to go out to dinner as a family back in Boston were the places Tom chose: the country club, fancy restaurants, venues with hosts and hostesses who would lead them to the table they’d had to book weeks in advance.
Tom would walk through the maze of tables, nodding to those he passed as if he were some kind of local celebrity, and Maggie would trail behind like a loyal puppy with the boys dragging their feet. Half the time, TJ wouldn’t eat anything on the menu, and Maggie would make him a grilled cheese sandwich when they got home. Tom would admonish her, saying that if TJ refused to eat anything then she should force him to go without, that he would never eat when they went out for dinner if he knew there would be an option for common food when he returned home.
But they never went anywhere the boys wanted to go. In fact, they never really went anywhere Maggie wanted to go. It was always about Tom, and his constant need to mingle with the elite and climb the proverbial social ladder.
Searching the dimly lit space, Maggie scanned the tables of people eating together in the restaurant, friends enjoying a drink at the bar, others playing pool or watching the ball game on the multiple flat screen televisions on the wall. Everyone seemed to know everyone else and it was intimidating—like arriving at a party you weren’t invited to.
“There’s a spot!” TJ pointed to a table for four situated off to the side by the empty stone fireplace.
“Okay, I guess we’ll grab that one,” Maggie said with a shrug, glancing around before leading the way inside. When no one shouted out for them to stop, she carried on while managing a small smile to those she passed before reaching the lone out-of-the-way table.
Jack was uncertain as he took in the environment around them. “Everyone’s staring at us,” he said under his breath, his face twisted with uncertainty.
“No, they’re not,” Maggie lied with the most convincing smile she could fake. Everyone was absolutely staring at them; their gazes obvious and piqued with thinly veiled curiosity.
Removing her cross-body purse and placing it onto the table, she took a seat. Jack rolled his eyes, throwing a surly glower at the people around them before slumping into a chair. TJ, oblivious as always, made quick work of plucking a menu from the center of the table, inspecting each item as if he were a connoisseur of fine pub fare.
&n
bsp; “I think I’m going to get the lobster bisque …” Maggie pondered out loud, glancing at the specials board, which was precisely when her gaze settled upon a somewhat familiar set of blue eyes watching her from across the bar, the same knowing smirk playing on his lips when her eyes met his.
Evan …
Like Maggie, Evan had cleaned himself up, changing from his ball cap and grease-covered clothes into a smart black button-down, the collar left open, showing off a light smattering of chest hair, sleeves rolled up, exposing those strong, ropey forearms. His hair was styled in that messy way many men deem acceptable; as if he’d showered, dipped his fingers into a tub of drugstore wax product and raked it through the longer layers on top before walking out the door.
Her mind wandered back to Tom at that moment. No matter where he was going—golf, dinner, work or a gala event—he made every effort to look as put together as he could. Not a single hair out of place, slicked back with the expensive pomade he’d buy online from Italy. Men like Evan were the polar opposite of those like Tom Morris.
She noticed Evan’s eyes sparkle from across the way, his lips curling upwards, hinting at a smile as he lifted a little higher the huge glass of beer he was holding in the air, adding a nod of recognition. In return, Maggie pressed her lips together in the hint of a fleeting smile before returning her focus to the menu in front of her, trying desperately to ignore the unfamiliar feeling in her stomach.
“Mom?”
Startling, Maggie looked up to find Jack staring at her expectantly. “Yes? What? Sorry. What is it, honey?”
He jutted his chin over her shoulder and she turned to see a pretty brunette wearing a yellow T-shirt with the pub’s logo printed on it, prepped with a pencil and notepad in her hands.
The Long Way Home Page 9