From the Heart: Romance, Mystery and Suspense a collection for everyone (27 page)

Her lawyer, Peter Sullivan, an older, balding local lawyer counseled her briefly on their first meeting. If she lashed out in anger and tried to lie or cheat Richard, she’d have to find another lawyer. Maybe some lawyers played that game, but he believed in fair play. That got her attention, but not her SUV back. It was pointed out that the house, the vehicles, and credit cards were, after all, in Richard’s name. The joint bank account had ten dollars left in it. Smart man, he stashed his money somewhere else.

She had a savings account with a few thousand in it—one her mother set up for her years ago. She bought her older junkyard Topaz for a few hundred dollars. It ran and got her from point A to point B. Richard agreed to child support and minimal spousal. Although not generous, it was enough for her to buy food and pay rent. Ryley would go back his dad’s on weekends, and weekdays he would live in Gardiner with her. The agreement was created by lawyers and signed in a cold, sterile legal office on a bleak day filled with torment, blame, and a fine line between anger and love. How did it turn so ugly?

She wiped her face with her ripped shirt and left Lily’s room. Only this time, she didn’t shut the door. She hurried to the master bedroom next to Lily’s, the one she’d shared with Richard. Nothing had changed. The same light green floral duvet covered the large bed flanked by the same oak night tables. The wide dresser was still flush against the wall where she’d shoved it five years ago. She was drawn to the large bare windows, no curtains, just the way she once preferred. Now, her rented house came complete with blinds and heavy drapes to shut out the world.

She glimpsed her red, tear-stained eyes in the dresser’s large mirror. Limp, tangled, dark hair. And her now-ruined blouse—thanks to Richard. She rested her forehead against the mirror and squeezed her eyelids shut. “We’re as good as divorced. What were you thinking, Maggie?” She pushed away, gazed at the disheveled stranger in the mirror, and was shaken from her confusion by the soft murmur of voices downstairs. She dropped her torn shirt on the floor, opened the closet door, and reached for a bright red sweatshirt stacked on the shelf. Richard was right; she’d left many clothes behind.

Maggie pulled the warm sweatshirt over her head and dashed down the stairs into the dim living room. How late was it? She stumbled and grabbed the railing when she heard Ryley laugh. Pots banged and clattered, utensils rustled as she watched from the shadows. Father and son illuminated in the kitchen. Richard hovered beside Ryley. They were chatting, laughing, and Ryley was chopping what? This wasn’t her quiet shy boy. He was relaxed and joking with his dad. Ryley never joked with her. He hadn’t laughed since… well, since she couldn’t rightly remember.

Ryley didn’t help in the kitchen with her; Maggie did all the cooking for him. They had a routine: eat, homework, watch TV, and then bed. And whatever this was with Richard, there was no place for her.

“Hey, are you making dinner?” She tried to sound happy.

They both looked up. Richard blinked, and she wondered for a moment if he’d forgotten she was here. Unease filled the room.

“Umm, I should go.” She pointed to the back door. Her hand shook. Where did she put her coat?

“Maggie.” His voice was soft and low when he touched her shoulder and rubbed his hand down her arm. “Stay for dinner. Please.”

She looked up. Awkwardness lingered. He dropped his hand and stepped back. A fork clattered on the counter. Maggie blinked. “Richard, I should go.” She dropped her gaze to the floor. She couldn’t look at him. She stepped around Richard and attempted a smile for Ryley—something that felt more like it was painted on.

“Are you staying, Mom? We’re making tacos.” He held a wooden spoon hovering over the fry pan and looked almost hopeful, for a second. Then something flashed in his eyes that had him stepping back. That carefree easiness he’d had moments ago with his dad, before she walked in, was gone. He appeared nervous and uneasy.

Was it just her? A knot tightened in her stomach, and she felt the dark basement swooping up to drag her back to the pits of despair. She couldn’t bear to lose another child. She reached out and hugged Ryley. He was stiff and pulled away. She looked down before she spilled any more tears. She forced a fixed smile again for Ryley. “No, not tonight. I got to go. But you have fun with your dad.” Maggie turned and froze. Richard held her coat and helped her into it. This time his hand didn’t linger.

“Ryley, I’m going to walk your mom to her car. Turn off the burner till I get back.”

“Okay, Dad.” She heard a relaxed carefree ease back into his voice as if everything was all right. So of course, she wondered if it was because she was leaving.

Richard’s hand touched the small of her back when she walked out into the dark night. The porch light glowed softly lighting her way as Richard walked her to the car. He didn’t say a word as he opened her door. Then he rested his hand on the roof of the rusty car. “Maggie, about earlier--”

She couldn’t bear to hear regrets. “Please Richard, I just need to go. Please let me go.” She climbed in and pulled the door closed. Starting the car, she watched him step back before he turned, hesitating a second, and walked back in the house. Maggie drove away and glanced in the rear view mirror just as the porch light went out, feeling a dreadful loss. Except this time, the loss was different, and she didn’t know why.

Chapter Five

A pop similar to a gunshot vibrated underneath her car just as Maggie pulled into her driveway. She pressed the brakes and stopped as the passenger front end tilted down. Maggie clutched her keys and pushed open her door, but could do little more than glance at the dilapidated Topaz in the shadows and see how it didn’t seem to sit quite right. Daisy barked and scratched from inside the house. “Just a minute, girl, I’m coming. Don’t panic.” She unlocked the door and was welcomed by a licking, tail-wagging Daisy who pranced against her legs.

She stumbled and pushed Daisy with her knee as she flicked on the outside light. Daisy continued to step in front of her, her tail still wagging, and her muted brown eyes attempting to pour guilt into Maggie’s heart. “Sorry girl, I know I left you too long.” With both hands, she rubbed Daisy until she purred like a cat. “Now let me get the flashlight and check out this mess.” This time Daisy dogged her heels when Maggie went outside. She wondered if maybe she’d driven over a big inflatable toy. That would explain the pop, but she couldn’t remember if Ryley had any.

She shone the flashlight on the front of the car and then underneath. “Well crap.” The front end on the passenger side leaned heavily, so far it nearly touched the ground.

“Everything all right, Maggie?” June, her 88-year-old neighbor, walked her poof ball of a mutt up the street. She was a kind gray-haired woman who knew all the dogs and their owners on this secluded cul-de-sac. Always stopping to chat and offer home baked dog cookies to Daisy. She loved animals and was known as the ‘cookie lady’ to all the dogs’ owners on the street. Three times a day, she set out for a walk with a Ziploc bag full of fresh baked dog cookies. Daisy had this inborn sense of knowing exactly when June was coming. She’d bark and jump up and down to be let out. Then she’d race out the front door, skidding to a halt in front of June to wait for her well-earned treat. On more than one occasion June had remarked, “Don’t you feed this dog, hon?” But Maggie thought to herself
, I’d do the same thing if someone took the time to bake fresh treats for me.

Only now in the dimness of this cold December night, June was not her warm friendly self. It was the way she approached Maggie and absently reached a shaky hand into her pouch for Daisy’s cookie. Daisy leaped around excitedly gobbling down the cookie and then sat and waited for more.

“You doing okay, June?” Maggie found it helped to focus on someone else. June shook her head and glanced up the street. She shut off the flashlight and touched June’s shoulder, “June, what’s going on?”

“Oh, Chester’s under the house again.”

Then she remembered hearing June call out for the cat last night.

“How long’s he been down there?” She dropped her hand when the older woman’s shoulder appeared to stoop. Lines on her creased face appeared to have deepened.

“Two nights. I call him, but he won’t come. I’m getting so worried, he hasn’t eaten, and it’s getting pretty cold at night.”

She bit her inside cheek so she couldn’t say anything about the cat and his spoiled childlike behavior. Although she had nothing against cats, Maggie preferred dogs. They were unselfish by nature and rarely caused the same worry. Chester was at least twenty pounds from lazy days and overeating, and in her mind, could stand to go a few days without a meal. Maggie sighed. June’s health wasn’t great, and another night of worry… well she hated to think what it would do to her.

“I’ll get the cat out.” She said it with a sarcastic edge in her voice. But June’s face brightened, so she apparently didn’t pick it up.

“Are you sure, dear? I mean she’s all the way under the house.”

She nodded. She didn’t trust her voice or what might slip out.

Side by side, with both dogs following, she and June walked to the old woman’s home, two houses down. This time, June’s stride was light and peppy as if that little bit of hope was all she needed.

“Oh, thank you
so
much. You know, I called the fire department, but they said they don’t come out for cats under houses. They said not to worry, it’ll come out when it’s hungry. That’s terribly rude, don’t you think, Maggie dear?”

She jammed her teeth together to hold back what she really thought. Truth be told, it was along the same lines as the fire department. Except now she had to get the cat. “You’re right. That’s not very nice of them.”

Chapter Six

The foundation of June’s bungalow was old fir post and beam. Maggie’s stomach flip flopped, and her hand trembled when she accepted the flashlight June handed her. She dropped to her knees and slid away the lattice board covering the opening to the crawlspace. She peeked into the pitch black, but saw nothing. Her heart pounded, and for a minute, she found it hard to breathe, but that was after her imagination dumped a preview of what else might be under the house. “Shit, don’t go there.” Maggie tapped the flashlight to her forehead. “Get those thoughts out of your head. Fucking cat.” For a woman who never swore, she was surprised at how easy it slipped out.

She shut her eyes for a second and then pulled off her coat and tossed it aside. She flicked on the flashlight and tried to hold the beam steady, but her trembling hand wouldn’t cooperate.

Maggie dropped down on her stomach and scooted under the house. Crawling on her knees was impossible in this closed-in space, so Maggie pushed with her foot and slid across the gravel and dirt while holding the narrow light in front of her. She paused a few feet in and scanned the area around her, but no cat, just shadows and darkness. “Heeere kitty, kitty… Chester, where are you?” She knew she sounded angry, but how did one manage to sound happy or caring at a time like this? She never could pretend. And the damn cat, if he was smart, he’d never answer, not to her. Then she heard a “meow.” Of course the mewing was way over at the far end of the crawl space. Maggie waved the flashlight and changed directions, pushing hard until the light danced over the orange calico huddled in the corner. Then she slowed and approached cautiously, the last thing she needed was for the cat to bolt deeper into the shadows. One dual goal—get the cat, and get the hell out.

“Chester baby, I’m coming.” This time she really did sound happy. She swapped hands with the flashlight, and the cat rose as if to bolt. “Oh no you don’t.” Maggie reached out and grabbed a handful of hair at the cat’s neck, and it went ballistic. She dropped the flashlight as Chester screeched and clawed. Maggie locked both her arms around the cat holding it against her chest. Then somehow grabbed hold of the flashlight and moved, keeping her face tilted away from the wildly striking, razor sharp claws as Chester struck out again and again. At least it was easier going back as the outside light illuminated the opening where June crouched.

“Is everything all right, dear?”

“Fine!” She yelled while holding onto the squirming demonic beast, clawing and biting, trying to break free. Maggie tried to hold his paws and spit out the cat’s fur swirling in clumps in her face, lips, mouth. The cat continued to hiss, spit, and claw.

Maggie slid out from under the house and dropped the flashlight. She got up on her knees holding the cat away from her as it sliced at her arms.

“Oh no Chester, it’s all right.” June reached for her cat and cuddled him to her chest, transforming the furry monster into a sweet angelic kitty, purring in the old woman’s arms.

“Oh Chester, you’re bleeding.” June’s voice had an edge of worry.

Maggie stood up and held her arms out in front of her. Sleeves rolled up, she glanced down at the tiny slits where blood oozed in several spots up her arm and then over to the orange tabby, with spots of blood dotting the orange furry strands.

“Oh don’t worry June, that’s my blood.” She glared at the cat. The cat turned its head toward her. She stumbled, and she’d swear the cat smiled and winked. She had nothing against cats, but knew with an absolute certainty she’d never in this lifetime own one.

“Oh, thank goodness. My, but he really did claw you good.” June’s concern for her animals was touching. She had a small dog, a cat, and a budgie in the house.

Maggie picked up her coat and carried it. She shivered as the tiny cuts began to burn. “June, if that cat goes under the house again, I’ll shoot it.”

June giggled as Maggie hobbled away.

“Oh stop teasing. Thank you so much for getting my baby out.”

June’s humble appreciation took some of the edge from her anger. Until she glanced back and met the cocky gleam in the cat’s eyes.
You go under that house again, you’ll stay there till hell freezes over
. This time, she winked at the cat, and then forced a smile on her face for June. “You’re welcome.” Maggie cut across the front grass with a forgotten Daisy nudging her leg.

“Maggie, do you want me to take a look at those cuts for you?” June called out.

She didn’t stop or look back. “No thanks, June. It’s just a few scrapes; nothing to worry about. I’ll take care of them myself.”

“Call me if you need anything, dear.”

She gave a passing wave over her shoulder as she hurried home. Never breaking stride, she snarled at her broken car, popped open her front door, and the gray weather stripping peeled off the doorframe and smacked her on the side of the head just as she crossed over the threshold. “Great, one more thing to fix in this damn rental.”

She flicked on the lights, locked the door behind her, and froze in front of the entry room mirror. She had several bloody nicks around her neckline and jaw and up both arms. Until she saw them, the sting wasn’t too bad. Now looking at them, they burned. She dropped her coat, stripped off her clothes, and hurried down the hall to the shower.

Steam filled the room, and she squealed each time the warm spray made a direct hit on one of the many wounds, and there were lots. But she figured it was the best way to clean them out.

After she toweled off, she applied antibiotic ointment on all the cuts. “Holy shit that hurts. Ow… ow… ow!” Hopping around on one foot, she panted until the sting receded. Then she held her arms stiffly as she took a good hard look at her wounded reflection. “Damn fucking cat. Why do I need to save the day?” But she already knew the answer. With any kindness paid to her by someone, she felt the need to pay back ten times, and then some. Otherwise, she wouldn’t be able to sleep. And as of late, no matter how hard she tried, she couldn’t get past it.