Читать книгу My Way Back to You - Pamela Hearon - Страница 14

CHAPTER FIVE

“YOU HEARD ANY more from Maggie?” Eli doused his third cup of coffee with heavy cream and stirred it, changing the hue from black to tan.

Rosemary thought Eli’s color seemed slightly better this morning than yesterday. She finished off the remains in her own cup and set it down with a sigh and a shake of her head. “No. And I know she must be upset. Yesterday was the day they moved Russ into his dorm. That had to be hard on her.”

“You think being around the son of a bitch is hard on her, too?” The cream must have cooled Eli’s coffee quickly because he swallowed half the cup in one gulp.

“Don’t drink so fast.”

“Don’t tell me how to drink my coffee.” He picked up the cup and gulped down the rest, just out of spite, she was sure.

“I hope it’s not hard on her. She’s known for a couple of months she and Jeff would be up there together. That was plenty of time to get her head prepared.”

Eli stood, pulled the cap from the pocket of his overalls and flipped it onto his head to cover the mop of silver hair he still sported. He adjusted the bill so that it covered his heavy, still-black eyebrows. “Not her head I’m worried about,” he drawled.

Rosemary pushed back in her chair and directed a withering glare his direction. “Shame on you, Eli Crenshaw Russell! That’s your daughter we’re talking about.”

He stepped toward her and braced one arm on the table and one on the back of her chair. Then he leaned down until his twinkling blue-gray eyes were even with hers. “I was referring to her heart, you dirty old woman.”

“Oh.” She saw the twitch of a grin at the corner of his mouth right before he kissed her heated forehead.

“Gotta go.” He patted the top of her head as he straightened. “Those tractors aren’t going to fix themselves.”

Rosemary leaned her head back, stretching those darn neck muscles that always seemed so tight these days. “But somebody else could fix them. Let’s retire, Eli. Let’s take that money we’ve worked so hard for all these years and spend it seeing some of the world...like we always promised ourselves we’d do.”

Eli had started toward the door—her words didn’t even slow his stride. They never did. “We’ll do that, Rosie. Someday.”

“Someday,” she muttered as she cleared away the breakfast dishes. “Always someday.”

Maggie was so much like her dad. She used to say the same thing to Zeke when he wanted to travel, which he did often. He’d usually end up going by himself while she stayed home and ran the salon. Look where it got her. The money she made and saved? What good was it now? He was gone and their chance of doing things together ripped away in the blink of an eye.

Maggie was too much in her thoughts, and Rosemary wasn’t going to get anything done until she talked to her daughter. She chose the wall phone, preferring to use it rather than the cell phone, which she was sure was causing all these tumors in the mouth and brain she’d heard about recently.

“Hey, Mom.” Maggie sounded more chipper than Rosemary had expected. Not a good sign. That meant she was forcing it, which inferred she was really upset.

“Hey, darlin’. Just wanted to see if things were going okay.”

Maggie’s sigh reduced the pretense a smidgen. “Things went all right yesterday. But I’m not much looking forward to today.”

“I knew you wouldn’t be. That’s why I called. To let you know we love you and are thinking about you.”

“Thanks. That’s sweet.”

There was that uncharacteristic silence Rosemary detested.

“And how are you and Jeff getting along?”

“Fine. No problems.” Back to forced chipper, which set off alarms in Rosemary’s head.

“Well...glad to hear that.”

Silence again.

“Russ and Jeff are playing in the golf scramble today. Each team member was allowed to choose a partner. I backed off, figuring Russ would rather have his dad on his team.”

“What a shame you can’t play, too.” Rosemary tried to encourage the conversation by showing sympathy. “You enjoy the game. And you’re good.”

“Yeah, but this is a competition Russ wants to win. Jeff will give him the best chance. There’s this guy Spike—his son’s on the team. He’s always bragging about how great he is at everything. I think our guys are out for his blood, so I hope they draw a good pair to team up with.”

Maggie’s short laugh sounded more relaxed, but our guys was an interesting word choice.

“So what are you going to do while they’re playing?”

“Oh, I’ll follow along. I guess that’s what all the extra parents will do.” Now her voice sounded normal—maybe the mom-call had worked its magic, after all.

Rosemary spied Eli’s cash box sitting on the kitchen counter where he’d forgotten it. “Well, I won’t keep you. I know you have a busy day ahead.”

“Yeah. I need to get moving.”

“Me, too. Your dad forgot his cash box. Love you. Give Russ hugs.”

“Okay. Love you, too. Hugs to Dad.”

They hung up and Rosemary realized she didn’t know any more about how Maggie was handling being around Jeff than she had yesterday. Her daughter was being very tight-lipped about her ex, which didn’t bode well by Rosemary’s way of thinking.

She snatched up the cash box and headed into the August morning air, already heated and damp with humidity. The pole barn Eli used as his machine shop sat at the back of their large piece of property. She was in no hurry as she followed the gravel lane back to it. A chicken snake slithered across the path, several yards ahead, leaving a weaving trail in its path.

“Snake in the grass.” She chuckled, remembering the epithet Eli had first used in reference to Jeff before he’d settled on son of a bitch.

She’d been fond of Jeff when he and Maggie were dating, and once they’d gotten married, he’d tried hard to man up. They’d just been too young and had too many things stacked against them. But he’d broken her daughter’s heart—that she couldn’t forgive.

Chicken snakes were easy to piss off and quick to bite.

Yeah, that pretty much summed up the Jeff she remembered.

The shadow of the pole barn brought instant cool to her sweaty back, and she stopped a moment to enjoy the sensation. No sound came from the barn. The eerie silence sent her into a near-jog.

The sight that met her eyes when she passed through the oversize garage door brought her to a complete stop.

“Eli? What are you doing?”

Eli’s jumping jacks came to a halt, and he swung around toward her, surprise giving way to sheepish in a flash. “What do you mean, what am I doing?” He was winded and gasping for breath, face red from exertion. “Can’t a man exercise without being chastised for it?”

She made no attempt to keep the suspicion out of her voice. “You work hard. And except for walking, you’ve never exercised a day in your life.”

“Well...I decided to add jumping jacks to today’s regimen. Now get on back to the house and leave me alone.” He took the cash box from her and turned his back in dismissal.

“Jumping jackass, if you ask me.” She sneered and headed back to the house.

His low chuckle followed her retreating backside, and she allowed a smile since he couldn’t see her face.

Eli partaking in calisthenics?

That dog didn’t hunt.

Something was amiss.

* * *

MAGGIE’S BODY HAD become a battle zone...courtesy of Jeff’s kiss last night. Okay, it wasn’t only his kiss. She’d been a more-than-willing participant. In fact, she may’ve been the instigator, Lord help her.

Had she lost her freaking mind?

Maybe so. It kept wandering off of its own accord, breaking free of the reins she’d held so tightly for years.

Even now, after spending the afternoon traipsing around a golf course with Spike filling her ears so full she thought her head would burst, her brain should’ve been focused on the upcoming goodbye with her son. Instead, it looped continually back to the feel of Jeff’s lips on hers, the sizzle that snaked through her belly at his touch. The scene had become a recurring dream that blindsided her anytime she closed her eyes either last night in the dark or today in broad daylight.

Or even now as the dinner was coming to a close.

“And, of course, the top honors go to the team of Grainger/Wells, coming in with a score of twelve under.” Coach Brimley handed out the cheesy plastic trophies to the four-man team. They accepted graciously, then Russ gave his trophy a noisy smooch, which brought a laugh from the crowd. For the millionth time that day, Maggie was reminded of the kiss she and Jeff shared last night.

Definitely trophy worthy.

She had yet to talk to Jeff about it, but she would as soon as they had a moment alone. She’d learned the hard way with Zeke that the things you didn’t talk about were the ones that came back to haunt you. And, although her dreams last night and her daydreams today had been much too pleasant to be considered haunting, she knew they would come back to bite her in the ass.

The applause died down, the coach made his final remarks, and when the crowd started moving, Maggie’s heart pinned her to her seat and stymied her movements.

Hold yourself together, Mom. She read the unspoken plea in Russ’s eyes as he crossed the room to her.

Somehow she found the strength to stand up and meet him. He leaned down and enveloped her in a tight hug.

“I’m proud of you, little man.” His hold tightened at her words. “Not because you won today. I’m proud of you every day—of the man you’ve become.”

“Love you, Mom.” His voice broke like it had so often when he was going through puberty.

His hold loosened, and he stepped back. She wasn’t quite ready to let go just yet, but when a second body pressed against her side, she realized he was making room for Jeff in a three-way hug. She fought back another wave of tears, and for a long moment, they stood holding each other as a family—the way they could’ve been all along if life hadn’t had other plans.

“Y’all gonna walk me to my room?” Russ placed a kiss to the top of her head, which she shook in answer.

“I think that will be too hard. Let’s just step outside and make it quick and relatively painless.”

Russ never let go of her or Jeff as they threaded their way through the crowd that now felt more like a funeral than a celebration.

On the sidewalk, Russ let go of his dad and clutched her tightly again. “You going to be okay?”

“I’m okay,” she lied. Lord, this was so much harder than childbirth. Back then, she’d been numb when the worst of the contractions had hit. But this felt like someone was digging out her heart with a plastic spoon and no anesthesia. “You be good. Be careful. Play nice and watch crossing.” She added the signature line she’d used throughout his childhood, which brought a strangled chuckle from them both. Her nose was clogged with unshed tears, and just when she thought she would suffocate from the high pressure area in her chest, he let go and turned to Jeff.

The pats on the back were much harder between the two of them than previously. She suspected man pats were meant to inflict a touch of pain that somehow reminded them of their manhood...or maybe provided an excuse for a tear to escape.

When Russ wiped a hand down his face, it was almost her undoing.

One more quick hug. A peck to his cheek and a pat to his belly. She couldn’t hold herself together much longer. “See you in November.”

“Yeah. And I’ll see you at Christmas, Dad.”

“Take care.” Jeff gave a soft pat to his son’s shoulder, then he took Maggie’s arm and swiveled her toward the parking lot. “Let’s go.”

She should be irritated Jeff was taking charge, telling her it was time to leave her son. But her feet wouldn’t have moved without his prodding.

“I’m driving.” He held out his hand, and she relinquished the keys without dissension. Spike waved to them as he got into his car. He was making the drive back to his home tonight—Maggie wished she could do the same. The hotel room would feel lonelier than ever.

But then, so would home.

She made it to the car, through the buckling in, the starting of the ignition and all the way to the point where Jeff was about to pull out of the parking lot. And then the tears erupted from her.

Jeff whipped the car into the nearest parking place and they came to an abrupt stop. Her sight was so blurred she couldn’t see him, but she felt his arm around her shoulders pulling her against him. She sobbed into his chest.

“He’s going to be fine, Mags,” he whispered. She nodded, but words wouldn’t come yet. “You’ve done such a great job. He’s well-adjusted. Has a great personality.”

“But the house is going to...to be so...so empty with him gone,” she blubbered.

“It’s not like he’s never coming back,” Jeff soothed, stroking her hair. “He’ll be home in a little over three months.”

“But things will never be the s-s-ame. This is the start of him being...being gone for good.”

Jeff dabbed at the tears with a tissue from the box in the backseat. “You know what I think?” She shook her head. “I think we should be celebrating.”

She straightened, taken aback by his declaration. He cupped her cheeks, directing her gaze toward his with hands that were warm and gentle. Being with someone at that moment felt nice.

“I mean it, Mags. We’ve done a hell of a job with this kid. We should be proud of who he is, who we’re sending out into the world. He’ll make it a better place.” Then he released her and shifted the car into Reverse. “We’re going back to the hotel and celebrating.”

Maggie was in no mood to celebrate and planned on heading to her room as soon as they got there. Surprisingly she was able to get her tears under control during the drive, and by the time they got to the lobby, she was almost herself again—except for the puffy eyes. And the thought of going upstairs to her empty room was no longer appealing. So when Jeff took her hand, she allowed him to lead her into the lounge to a table in the shadowy back corner with a high-backed love seat. It was dark enough she didn’t feel conspicuous about her red eyes and nose, and cozy enough to relax.

A few couples were taking a turn on the floor, dancing to the pleasant melodies of the soloist with the smoky voice and her accompanist. When the server came to take their order, Jeff didn’t ask her preference.

“We’ll have a bottle of Pol Roger Brut Réserve and two glasses,” he said.

“A whole bottle of champagne?” Maggie asked as the server walked away. “That’s a little much, isn’t it?”

Jeff grinned, his white teeth gleaming against his tanned face, made darker by the dim lighting. “Only three glasses each. And we’re not gonna gulp them. We’re going to sit here and savor them for as long as we want.” He cocked his head in question, his gaze flitting over her face. “You better now?”

“I’m okay.”

“Good.” Her hand lay on the love seat between them and he patted it lightly. A couple of hours ago, that touch would have sent a shock wave through her. But saying goodbye to Russ seemed to have desensitized her, leaving her a little numb. Jeff pointed out the window to the street beyond. “What a shame. You came all the way to Chicago and didn’t have a chance to shop the Magnificent Mile.”

“I actually had a couple of hours this morning. While you and Russ were playing your practice round, and having man time with Spike, I was hitting the shops.” She tried to sound contrite, but she couldn’t keep the grin from her face when Jeff cringed at the mention of Spike. “All you two got were sore ears and a plastic trophy. I scored a dress, two pairs of capris and three pairs of shoes.”

His face sobered, and he took a long breath. “Kind of like old times. Me slaving in the hot sun while you shop.”

What a low blow! Immediately, Maggie went on the defensive, her spine stiffening, bracing for combat. But then she saw the edge of his mouth twitch. He was toying with her. Well...she could play, too. “Really like old times. You on the golf course. Me left to my own entertainment.”

He pinned her with a hard look, but then both corners of his mouth twitched, and he dissolved into laughter. “We were quite a pair, weren’t we?”

She nodded her smiling agreement just as the server arrived with their order. The young woman opened the champagne discreetly—no big fanfare to draw attention to the dark corner—and filled the two glasses.

Maggie leaned forward on her elbows, watching the bubbles as they caught the light and danced their way to the top. “It looks like some kind of magic potion.”

“It is.” Jeff picked up the two glasses and handed her one. His gaze was direct, his eyes soft. “Drinking this will wipe away all the bad times and help us remember only the good. Like Russ...and last night’s kiss.”

Maggie’s heart skipped a beat—apparently she wasn’t so numb, after all.

Jeff raised his glass as one of his eyebrows arched in both question and challenge.

Maggie tipped her glass, touching the edge to his. “To the good times—past and future.”

* * *

MAGGIE’S WORDS SENT an impact through Jeff that left a crater the size of Lake Michigan, which instantly filled with desire. The kiss last night had lit the fuse, and all day he’d been affected by the slow burn. He’d managed to throw the energy into his golf game, crushing the ball with his driver at each tee box, playing like he’d never played before.

But now, it was Maggie he wanted to crush...in the most tender of ways. But he couldn’t simply suggest they go up to one of their rooms and get it on, even if that was precisely what he wanted to do. This was a special night—the kind that came once in a lifetime. He would make it last.

The champagne truly was a magic elixir. He watched it bring a sparkle to Maggie’s eyes and a blush to her cheeks after just one glass. But when a girlish giggle bubbled out of her during one of his stories that wasn’t that funny, it gave him pause. Getting her drunk wasn’t the plan. This was a night to make memories—he wanted them both to remember it come tomorrow. He ordered a fruit-and-cheese plate to give them a reason to slow down the drinking.

While they waited for the food, the pianist broke into a jazzy swing tune. Dancing was one of the things they did together in college and were good at—second only to lovemaking. “Want to dance?” he asked, unsure if it was something she still enjoyed.

“Yes!” Her answer was nearly a squeal.

As they fell into the rhythm, the years fell away, and their bodies moved in perfect precision. They swung, they twirled, two hands clasped, then one hand and an underarm turn. Both of them anticipated the movements of the other as if the entire dance had been choreographed. Jeff was vaguely aware they were clearing the dance floor, but he didn’t let it stop them—tonight was all about the good times. Besides, he and Maggie had often done the same thing in college.

“Ready?” he asked as the song neared its end, and she nodded.

“Ready.”

He sent her into an impressive set of underarm twirls and prayed she didn’t get sick like she did that time at the frat house—their first clue she was pregnant. The last notes brought her tightly against him and he dipped her dramatically. The lounge went silent and then a hearty round of raucous applause exploded from every corner. To Jeff’s amazement—and slight embarrassment—the open passageways into the lobby had filled with onlookers as people had stopped to watch the impromptu show. With their arms around each other’s backs and a couple of waves to the crowd, they sauntered back to their table and anonymity, short of breath, panting and hanging on to each other for support.

“I haven’t danced like that in twenty years.” Maggie’s words were punctuated by gasps as she plopped onto the love seat, sliding over to make room for him.

“Me, neither.” The exertion from the dance had given him a momentary respite from the erection he’d sported most of the day, but Maggie’s breathless exclamation shifted it back into forward gear. He tried to ignore it as he poured them more champagne and relaxed against the back of his seat.

Maggie stacked some cheese onto a crostini and drizzled it with honey, then held it up in offering. Rather than taking it from her, he opened his mouth and she fed it to him. He closed his lips around the bite, deliberately catching the tips of her fingers in a small suck to gauge her response.

She didn’t flinch. Didn’t draw back. On the contrary, she allowed the tip of her middle finger to linger a fraction longer before dragging it down the middle of his bottom lip. Her lids drooped to half-mast, and she gave him a smoldering smile as she leaned back against one shoulder, her face and body turned slightly toward him.

His eyes dropped from hers to her mouth, mesmerized by the way her lips parted sensually, her tongue touching them, making them glisten in invitation.

He took a sip of champagne to wash away any of the lingering cracker, then leaned toward her, bringing his mouth to hers in answer. She left her hands as they were—one lying between them on the seat, the other relaxed in her lap. Her lips coaxed him deeper, parting for him, allowing small, sexually charged whimpers to escape, which sounded like both need and satisfaction.

And that kiss was just the beginning.

As they talked and laughed away the rest of the champagne, it was obvious that they both knew exactly how this magical night was going to end.

And so, during the last dance—a slow one that pressed her against him, making her aware of the effects she was having on his body—it came as no real surprise when she whispered to him, “Do you have condoms?”

“That’s a loaded question,” he whispered back, enjoying the way his breath on her neck caused her to shiver. “If I say no, where does that leave us? But if I say yes, it’s as good as admitting I went to the drugstore in anticipation of this after last night.”

Her cheek rested against his as her fingers played softly with the hair at the nape of his neck. “I hope the answer’s yes.”

“Then it’s yes.”

Her response was a contented sigh as she pressed her body closer to his.