Chasing the Sunset(43)

Nick agreed that it was indeed the perfect solution to their holiday dilemma, but his eyes flew to Maggie, who stayed perfectly expressionless. Both of them wondered what this would mean to their situation, and Maggie had a sinking feeling in her stomach. How could she carry on openly with Nick while his cousins were here? They had not hidden their relationship from Kathleen, and Ned, and Tommy, it was true, but they had been discreet, and Kathleen was the only one who knew for sure what was going on. The other two only speculated, but it was going to be impossible to keep it a secret with two more people in the house.

The instant that the thought hit her mind, Maggie was overcome with shame for her selfishness. She should be glad for Nick. She knew that he loved his cousins and had missed them dreadfully, and there was nothing better than spending the holidays with your loved ones and nothing more heart-wrenching than spending them alone. Still, her smile was bittersweet as she agreed that it was a lovely thing, sure to be so much fun . . .

Joanne prattled on about sleigh rides and stringing cranberries and popcorn for a tree, not to mention helping make a whole, traditional Thanksgiving dinner. She never noticed anything wrong, or at least pretended that she did not. But Ronald’s sharp eyes bounced from Maggie to Nick and back again. He raised a questioning brow at Kathleen, who nodded almost imperceptibly.

Ah, so that is the way of it, he thought. He leaned back in his chair and crossed his arms over his chest, a small smile creasing his mouth. Nick deserved some happiness at long last, and he just hoped that they were not putting a crimp in his plans with an untimely visit.

Kathleen spent some time grumbling about her terrible mother and her efforts at matchmaking, and about stupid doctors who were much too handsome for their own good and had a dubious sense of humor. And, she said, she was certainly happy about staying here tonight, for more than one reason.

But Nick was distinctly unhappy later on that evening when Maggie pulled him into the kitchen.

She jumped away when he tried to put his arms around her, glancing nervously at the door as if expecting it to come flying open at any time . . . and it might, Nick thought grimly. His cousin Joanne, much as he dearly loved her, had been flitting from one end of the house to the other all day, not giving him a minute alone with Maggie.

“No,” she hissed at him now. “I am not going to be sneaking around with you while your family is here. It is not right, and I will not do it.”

“Not the whole time that they are here?” he asked slowly. “Maggie, that could be months. They are talking about staying until the end of January.”

She turned her back on him resolutely. “I know.” She wanted to cry, or scream, but she did neither, just stood there while misery streamed through every particle of her being. Touch me, she begged silently. Swear that you cannot live without me, and I will change my mind. Tell me that you love me. Tell me, and I will be your lover flagrantly, no matter who disapproves.

Nick said none of those things, however, just stood behind her silently.

“I see,” he said, and she could read nothing from the tone of his voice. It held no pain, no pleasure, no emotion at all, just an empty politeness that echoed frigidly through Maggie’s soul. “If this is what you have decided, I will of course abide by your wishes.”

He turned and left, leaving Maggie alone in the kitchen. His remoteness frightened her as much as her sudden pain did, and she swayed dizzily and caught at the edge of the wooden counter.

She mustn’t fall. There was no one here to catch her if she fell, she thought bleakly. No one.

No one at all.





NINE



Maggie scrubbed half-heartedly at the burnt mess in the bottom of the heavy, cast iron skillet, her mind far away. This week had been pure misery for her, what with Nick’s coldness and her trying to pretend that everything was all right. Kathleen, for once, had not noticed Maggie’s despondent mood. She was too caught up in her excitement over Joanne and Ronald’s visit. She had not seen them in person for more than five years, though they corresponded regularly by post, and she was ecstatic, as was the rest of her family. Kathleen’s mother and father and brothers and sisters had been trooping in and out of the house so much that she had taken to making up two spare bedrooms each night just in case some of them wanted to stay.

And stay they did, all of them getting in at least one overnight visit, raucous and laughing and happy at seeing Joanne and Ronald again. Jenny had stayed for a rollicking three days, along with her wild three-year-old son, Clem. Jenny laughingly described him as ‘a little spoiled’, but that did not begin to depict his character. Kathleen had sworn, dodging Jenny’s swats and laughing, that she was afraid to make Clem take off the battered hat he wore for fear of seeing horns growing underneath. The only time he behaved well was when his grandmother was present; all that fierce lady had to do was raise one eyebrow and Clem became an instant angel. Unfortunately, she had not stayed through the whole of Clem’s visit, and no one else had her ability to subdue him.

Clem had chased Tommy’s poor cat through the stables until it was panting with exertion and an irate Ned banned him from the premises; while racing through the house pretending to ride a horse, he had toppled and broken a vase in the dining room, a pitcher off the counter in the kitchen, and a bowl of hard candies in the parlor (the contents of which he crammed into his mouth and his pockets, respectively); he secreted himself in the pantry and stuffed himself with the sweets that Kathleen had spent days making in preparation for Thanksgiving and then was promptly sick all over the floor.

And that was only the first day of his visit. They had all breathed a sigh of relief when Jenny and her little hellion had gone home.

Maggie did not want to spoil this visit for Kathleen; so she did her best to act as if she was just as happy as the rest of them all were. So far, none of her friends had questioned her about it, so she supposed that they had not noticed anything amiss.

But Joanne had noticed.

Maggie was sure of it.

After that first night, Joanne had not broached the subject of Maggie’s mother again. But Maggie sometimes turned around suddenly and found Joanne watching her thoughtfully, one finger tapping at the corner of her mouth. Oh, she always smiled and had some excuse for standing there, but she made Maggie uneasy. She had dreamed of David every night this week, waking terrified and unable to sleep for the rest of the long, long night, her arms aching for Nick. Her sleepless nights were beginning to tell on her face. Dark shadows circled her eyes, and she was too pale. She had already caught Ned looking thoughtfully at her once or twice, and Maggie knew that she could not keep her torn nerves hidden much longer.

Maggie bit her lip, hot tears scalding her eyes, but she blinked them back furiously and refused to let them fall.

Joanne knew something, and Maggie was very much afraid that she was going to have to leave her comfortable life here. She was going to be forced to flee this haven of warmth and love that she had found. It would take her fewer than five minutes to fill the valise and ready her things to leave. But it would take her the rest of her life to get over losing the people in this household.

And her heart was breaking because of it.

"I’d like to talk to you," a quiet voice said behind her.

Maggie whirled to see Joanne standing in the doorway to the kitchen, a frown creasing the smooth skin of her forehead. Very slowly, she dried her hands on the dishtowel she kept hanging beside the sink, and then gestured toward the table.

"I’ve been expecting this," she said slowly. "I’ll make us up a cup of coffee. We might as well be comfortable while we talk."

While Maggie worked the pump in the sink to fill the coffeepot, she felt Joanne’s eyes upon her back, though the other woman never said a word. Maggie avoided her gaze as she put the pot of the stove to boil, spooned the coffee into the hot water, then added crushed eggshells to settle the grounds. When she poured the drink into big, serviceable mugs and brought them to the table, she worked up the nerve to meet Joanne’s gaze head on. Maggie felt a chill race through her body when she saw the sympathy in Joanne’s eyes.

"You needn’t do this," she said numbly, not able to hold Joanne’s gaze for long. She cast her eyes down upon the scarred surface of the old work table they sat at. "I’ll be leaving soon."

Leaving Nick, leaving Kathleen and Ned and Tommy, leaving the people she loved; leaving her heart. It was the first time that she had spoken the words out loud, and they tasted like ashes in her mouth.

"What are you talking about?" Joanne demanded.

"I know that is what you want to talk to me about, and I can’t say that I disagree with you. I know that ... you know about my marriage. I’m not good for Nick, and I have some funds saved up. I’ll be leaving next week."

Joanne placed her hand on Maggie’s on the table, warming it with her own.

"I don’t like that at all," she said gently.

Startled, Maggie jerked her eyes up.