Fragile Brilliance (Shifters & Seers) (21 page)

“Mom, where is the turkey?” Maggie asked the next morning. She picked up a gallon of milk, and when the stuff on the inside didn’t move, she tossed it into the garbage can, making a mental note to drag it out to the curb before the whole house started smelling like homemade cheese. “Please tell me you didn’t leave it in the freezer.”

Lynn McCray looked up from her Nora Roberts paperback and took a puff of her Salem Light before answering. “I didn’t get a turkey.”

“What do you mean you didn’t get a turkey? It’s Thanksgiving, Mom.”

“Why do you care? You don’t eat meat.”

“But I like the smell of turkey cooking.” It reminded her of her grandmother. Thanksgiving had always been a favorite holiday of Taeko McCray. As an immigrant, she had a sense of national pride missing in most natural-born Americans. The Fourth of July and Thanksgiving were always cause for massive celebration at the McCray residence, Grandmother always making every effort to make sure every tradition was followed. “And how am I supposed to make gravy for the mashed potatoes without the broth from the turkey?”

Lynn flicked her foot-long ash into a red Solo cup. “We don’t have potatoes either.”

Maggie stood up slowly, praying this was another one of her mother’s attempts at a prank. “We don’t have potatoes?”

“Do you know what they want to charge you for just a couple of potatoes? I could buy a whole ten pound bag for that.”

You cannot kill your mother. You cannot kill your mother. You cannot kill your mother.

“Mom, what exactly are we supposed to eat for Thanksgiving dinner?”

Lynn took another puff of her cigarette and flicked over the page of her romance novel. “I think we have a tray of salisbury steak in the freezer, and there is a can of peas and carrots in the cabinet.”

When she was a kid, Maggie would sometimes imagine what it would have been like if she’d lived with her dad instead of her mom. Unlike Lynn, who had dropped out of school after giving birth to Maggie in the tenth grade, Luke Norwood graduated high school and then went off to college. When she was young, Luke’s parents would invite Maggie to their house out in Sherman Hills, the nice subdivision on the edge of town. She would sit on their matching leather furniture and go out to dinner at nice restaurants where you didn’t have to stand in line to place your order and someone else cleaned up your mess after you were done. Mr. and Mrs. Norwood always bought her really nice Christmas and birthday presents, and generally made some effort to treat her like a granddaughter even though their son hardly acknowledged her existence.

Sadly, that all changed when she was ten and Luke got himself a wife and a real kid. Maggie had a few moments of proper angst over the whole ordeal, but it didn’t take her long to begin to understand. She wanted to go off and start a new life and forget all about her mother as soon as possible, too. She couldn’t blame him or his parents for starting fresh, even if it meant she was coming out a loser in the whole situation.

But even when she’d grown up and knew there was no way it was ever happening, Maggie would still sometimes fantasize about the Norwoods coming to take her away to live in their nice, clean, middle class world. It became a coping mechanism, which is how Maggie found herself standing in the middle of her mother’s kitchen in the early morning hours of Thanksgiving, imagining sitting around the Norwoods’ large oak table, helping her younger siblings spoon sweet potato casserole onto their plates. Her father would ask how her classes were going and her stepmother would be polite to Charlie without trying to undress him with her eyes.

“I’m going to the store,” Maggie said, opening her eyes. Maybe they would get lucky and the deli would have some pre-made Thanksgiving meals. She woke up at dawn to start cooking so they could get back to the Alpha Pack before the full moon rose, so the chances of getting the good stuff before all the other last-minute shoppers got in there and started throwing elbows was pretty good as long as she left now.

“Grab me another pack of smokes and a case of Mountain Dew.”

No, I’m not going to enable your quest to kill yourself slowly.

“Sure, Mom. Anything else?”

Another puff. Another turn of the page. “Yeah, you better grab some paper plates while you’re there so we’ll have something to eat on.”

“It’s Thanksgiving. We eat off of Grandmother’s china.”

Lynn didn’t say anything, and Maggie’s body went icy cold for one full second before blazing with unbearable heat. She couldn’t stop her hands from shaking as she went over to the pantry and opened the door to find the bottom shelf empty.

“Mom, where is the china?” Her voice didn’t shake or screech or bellow. She wasn’t sure how that happened. It probably had something to do with adrenaline. In tense situations some women could lift cars off their infant children, and others could speak in a calm and controlled manner when they were mere seconds away from painting the walls with blood.

Lynn mumbled something around the cigarette in her mouth.

“What?”

“Gold Brothers.” Lynn threw out like a challenge, and Maggie wanted to meet that challenge so bad the bones in her hand threatened to snap from the force of the fist she was making. But she knew yelling at her mother wouldn’t do anything but bring on a poor-pitiful-me cry fest that would end up making Maggie feel guilty, and at the moment, Maggie was too pissed off to do anything to dull her righteous anger.

“How much?” When Lynn didn’t answer Maggie fought the urge to throw something, preferably her mother. “How much will it take to get it back?”

“You don’t understand.” Lynn put down the book and pulled another cigarette out of the pack. The lines that formed around her mouth as she took a pull on the cancer stick didn’t completely go away when she opened her mouth to let the smoke roll out, making her look much older than her thirty-five years. “You don’t know what it’s like to be an adult and have all these bills and responsibilities.”

Maggie considered pointing out how she did understand since she’d been paying most of the bills and taking on the majority of the responsibilities for the past five years.

“Just tell me how much money it’s going to take to get it back, Mom.”

Lynn’s eyes narrowed on Maggie before darting to the window.

“Three hundred.”

Maggie closed her eyes and once again she was in her grandparent’s house, surrounded by normal people doing normal family things. But it didn’t work. Instead of calming her, this time it only fueled her anger. Why couldn’t she have that life? It should have been hers. It wasn’t fair.

Without another word to her mother, she stormed out of the kitchen and into the living room where Charlie was hunched over his computer. The sound-eliminating earphones strapped over his head gave her a profound sense of relief. It was bad enough she had to live the conversation, she didn’t need to also endure the embarrassment of knowing he had overheard.

She waved a hand in front of his face and almost teared up at the blazingly beautiful smile he shot her as he uncovered his ears. Over the past few weeks, Robot Charlie had made fewer and fewer appearances. The smiles Charlie gave her now weren’t practiced or calculated, and the difference was heart stopping. Every time he graced her with one, which was becoming quite often, she felt the urge to throw herself at his feet and swear lifelong fidelity. She would follow him to the ends of the earth for one of those smiles.

“Walk me to the store?” She could have gone by herself, the Food Giant was only two blocks away and she seriously doubted anyone was going to attack her in Monarch, but the truth was, she needed to be near him right now. Her life seemed more normal and balanced with Charlie around.

“We won’t be gone long, will we?” Charlie asked as he stuffed his feet into his shoes. “I promised your granddad I’d help him with the gutters before lunch.”

Maggie grabbed her coat and tossed Charlie his. “You’re going to work on the gutters on Thanksgiving?”

“Well, they’re in pretty bad shape—“

“No. Just… no.” It was like everyone was conspiring to make this the least Thanksgiving-like Thanksgiving since the Pilgrims and Native Americans shared some corn-on-the-cob a few hundred years ago. “This is Thanksgiving. You can watch the Macy’s Thanksgiving Day Parade and the dog show, or you can go outside and throw around a football, but you will not be messing with the gutters.”

“Mags, your granddad can’t do it himself, and we’re leaving right after lunch. It won’t take long. I’ll be done by the time Santa rolls through Time Square. Promise.”

“We’re leaving today.” She knew they were leaving after lunch, had known it all along, but it wasn’t until he said it that she realized what it meant. “We’re leaving today, and Gold Brothers won’t be open. I can’t… I won’t be able to…” And then, because there was no force on the earth that could have stopped her, she burst into tears. It was the first time she’d really cried in front of him since the day someone ruined her pieces of pottery, and she was just as embarrassed as she’d been then. But unlike the first time, Charlie gathered her into his arms and held her against his chest as the tears streamed down her face.

Her heart couldn’t decide if it wanted to burst from finally being in Charlie’s arms or crumble from knowing she couldn’t get her grandmother’s china back.

“Tell me what is wrong,” he whispered into her hair. “Whatever it is, I’ll fix it.” One of his hands came down to cradle her face. His thumb worked as a windshield wiper on her cheek, brushing the nonstop flow of tears away. “Come on, Maggie. Tell me what’s wrong. These tears are killing me.”

“My grandmother’s china. It was… it was important to her.”

“The pattern on your side?” he guessed, and she nodded against his chest, crying too hard to answer.

For years Maggie’s grandmother had made dinnerware for a small company specializing in handmade ceramics. For years she’d made expensive plates and bowls for other people, her family ate on chipped Dollar store dishes. The company didn’t offer employee discounts, and they sold them for more money than they paid Maggie’s grandmother in six months.

“She bought it piece by piece. It took her fifteen years to get it all.”

Once Maggie was old enough, she helped, saving up her money so she could buy a cup or salad plate at Christmas. Every year her grandmother would gasp in surprise. Maggie might have thought it was an act if she hadn’t also cried every year.

“Grandmother left it to me, Charlie. Me. It was mine, and she... she just got rid of it like it was nothing.” Her voice broke on a sob, and she pressed herself even tighter against the hard warmth of Charlie’s chest. “God, I hate her sometimes.”

“What did she do? Break them? Throw them out?” His voice was quiet, but she could hear the anger he felt on her behalf.

“No. She took them to the pawn shop.”

Charlie pulled back just enough that he could look down at her. “The pawn shop? So we can get them back?”

Maggie knew she should answer him, but she was too hung up on the whole part where he looked into her eyes and said “we” as if there was a “we” instead of two people who hung out together all the time, sometimes sitting so close she might explode from desire, but mostly not even doing that much.

“I’ve got some money saved up. For some reason, Liam insists on paying us, and since he also insists on paying for our house, food, and everything else, I don’t really have anything else to spend it on.”  He brushed away the last straggling tear with the back of his hand. “I’ll fix this, Maggie. We’ll get them back, and we’ll take them home with us so she can’t ever do this again.”

God, if he didn’t stop Maggie was going to start bawling all over again.

She shook her head, forcing herself to move out of the comfort of his arms. “No, it’s done.” She tried for a smile that didn’t quite take. “Let’s just go find some food, eat lunch, and get the hell out of here,” she said. “The sooner, the better.”

Maggie thought that was the end of the discussion, but she should have known better. Charlie had told her he would fix it, and he wasn’t the kind of guy who went back on his word. Still, she had no idea what he was talking about when he announced he had good news the moment she emerged from the grocery store, bags of food in hand.

“Is it that barbecued turkey is an acceptable Thanksgiving Day lunch option and you love German potato salad even more than mashed potatoes and gravy? Because that would indeed be good news.”

“Even better,” Charlie said, grabbing two of the bags from her. “We’re staying until tomorrow.”

Maggie nearly tripped over a crack in the sidewalk. “Charlie, that is not better news. Did you hear the part where I want to get the hell away from my mother as soon as humanly possible?”

“All I heard was someone with a broken heart asking for help.”

“Charlie--”

“It’s all taken care of. Mr. Ryker said they were still there, and he’ll open his doors at nine in the morning.” His smile was smug. “See? I fixed it. Maggie’s heart can be whole again.”

And it was. She could feel it in her chest, coming back together, bit-by-bit. And the glue binding it all together was Charlie. Beautiful, damaged Charlie Hagan who she couldn’t resist anymore. She’d tried so hard for so long, but with one smug smile, he plowed over her safeguards and she fell, head-over-heels in love with him. It didn’t matter that he didn’t want her love. Who she loved wasn’t his choice to make. It was hers. It didn’t matter he might not ever be able to love her back, she was going to love him with everything she had anyway.