Lost and Found (5 page)

“No, no, no
.
I don’t think so
,
Richard.” Fury pushed the blood through her veins while she looked at the date on the coffee stained
Day-Timer
.
She
punched in the numbers to his cell phone knowing he’d be somewhere on the
forty
acre property and not in the beautiful large two
story
cedar
home
he built after Ryley was born.

“This is Richard leave one.”

“Voicemail, you jerk
.
You’re
screening
your
calls
.
You
knew I’d call back.” Maggie didn’t think as she threw the phone down on the counter. She grabbed her purse
and
keys and tore out the front door
,
slamming it so hard the front window shook. She gunned the engine and backed out of her narrow paved driveway. A horn blasted behind her, but she didn’t stop to look. And somehow
,
she made the twenty minute drive out of town to the Gardiner acreage in just under ten minutes.

Traces of snow scattered the sides of the long driveway, and a big pile of snow had been dumped close to the barn. She jammed on her brakes
,
and for a second
,
doubt cut through her anger.
Before
thinking it to death
,
she hit the gas and drove past the double paddock barn and parked outside the west coast cedar home—her home—their home—the home she once loved.

Maggie stared at the brown grass where her babies played. Half an acre she
’d
dug and seeded alongside Richard. Old growth trees surrounded the perimeter with a crop of Douglas Fir hiding a small tree house—the one Richard built for Ryley. And across the front yard, past the whispering
Willow,
was the road that had killed her Lily.

Her cheeks were wet from the tears that wouldn’t leave. She roughly wiped her chapped cheeks and shut her eyes as she leaned back wishing she could fall into sleep and oblivion, the only place she could forget for a while. But she didn’t. Instead
,
Maggie crawled out of her car as if she’d aged twenty years. And there stood Richard.

The
gray
blue of his all-seeing eyes
now held an edge of hardness. His dark hair
had
lightened to a sandy gray. He wore his hair longer, and the unruly waves whipped around in the wind. Maggie couldn’t put her finger on it, but there was something different about him
. Something
solid
,
like a survivor
, that
wasn’t there before. He was tall and broad shouldered, and even wearing his old
,
torn barn jacket
,
she knew he could still turn every lady’s head.

How long had it been since she was here? She hadn’t been back since the day she loaded Ryley up with their suitcases and drove away.

But watching Richard stare at her in
his
frigid unforgiving way, all she could remember was how much she missed the strength of his arms when he enfolded
her in
them. There was a time he could protect her from anything. But not that
.
Blame
had been passed around, the agony—grief. At
thirty-seven,
the weather etched lines around his eyes had deepened. His solid jaw now held a bitter edge. And the tiny scar down his left cheek had been her parting gift.

She was rocked by all of it. The regrets, and why was she here? She closed her eyes to blank out his image, but it was too late. She felt the link
,
the connection to him, and no matter how she tried
,
she couldn’t sever it. However, she’d made her choice, or maybe it had been made for her?

“Richard, I…”

He said nothing. He left her standing there as he climbed the steps and went inside. The door clattered when it smacked the wood frame
,
dragging Maggie out of her hypnotic stupor and shocking the fury back into her. She marched after him. Passion or hate
,
she didn’t know which drove her until she stood in the center of the open kitchen, facing the brickwork of the stovetop island in the center of this once inviting room.

“Maggie, what do you want? I left you a message.” Richard stood at the kitchen sink. He kept his back to
her
,
and
from what she could tell
,
star
ed
out the window at the old growth forest dott
ing
the perimeter of their property.

“It’s Tuesday. You can’t pick up Ryley and keep him through the weekend. We have an arrangement. You get him on the weekends, not before. He has school and a routine
,
and it’s important…”

“I don’t give a crap about your perception of routine. The boy belongs here. He’s my son. And it’s time he came home for good.”

He cut her off in a way that was unbending
,
and she knew
it was
meant to overpower. But she wouldn’t cave, not this time. Because now
,
she felt something vital being yanked away. “You can’t do that, you agreed—we both agreed. Ryley would be better off with me in town
.
I’m his mother. You can’t take him away from me.”

Richard pushed away from the sink and stalked toward her. As he moved closer
,
his face softened. Panic expanded in her chest. There was something different about this man she’d once loved so deeply. It was as if he had peace
,
or was it resolve? Whatever it was changed her scattered focus—her determination. Her belly ached because she realized he’d healed and left her behind. How could he? His strong hands surrounded her shoulders. Tears clouded her clear vision when she looked up and tried to speak. But nothing would come.

“Oh Maggie, you have to get past it.” His words were soft. But she sensed they were merely his shield.

“I can’t, I still see her running around. If I could have just gotten there sooner. Why did you let her go out? I should have gone with her.”

He didn’t push her away this time. He pulled her against him. Surrounded her with arms—strong arms. She breathed in the piney spice of the trees. He’d been chopping wood. She pressed her cheek against his chest
;
her head didn’t top his shoulders. She gazed up at him, and her fingers
traced
over each weather worn line on his face. Her breath mixed with the warmth of his. And his head came down hard. The kiss was brutal, needy
,
as he backed her to the wall. He unzipped her coat, pulled open her shirt scattering the buttons on the floor and lifted her bra, skimming his rough hands over both breasts.

Maggie unzipped his jeans, aroused and ready. Her own jeans loosened
,
and Richard pushed them down
,
but the pant leg
s
stuck
—
her shoes
,
dammit. She struggled to kick them off
,
freeing one leg from her jeans. Richard lifted her and stepped between her legs, thrusting hard. She closed her eyes and wrapped her legs around his waist
,
caught up in the frenzy of need, life, and desperation to feel something
,
anything
,
again. He filled her over and over, her mouth on his, fast and hurried. There
were
no passion
ate
or frilly love words
,
just a physical need followed by Richard
’
s muffled curse
,
and he was done.

Reality was a bitch. Her jeans dangled from one leg
,
and he was still buried inside of her. Both of them panted as if they’d just run a marathon. And the dark intruder of truth smashed
through the illusion. His eyes closed
,
and he rested his forehead against hers, before pulling out and setting her down.

Richard moved back and zipped up his pants. Awkwardness rushed in. Her jeans were inside out on one leg, her underwear bunched and twisted. It took her a minute, like a clumsy first timer to right her jeans and pull down her bra. The blue buttons on her cotton shirt were spread on the cream colored floor along with her jacket. Maggie pulled her shirt together and glanced away
,
an unbearable sense of strangeness
lingered
between them. She shut her eyes and took a breath. What’s the big deal? He’d been her husband for eleven years.

“Umm
…
sorry about the blouse.” He gestured to the lost buttons. “Some of your clothes are still upstairs.”

Avoiding his eyes
,
she held the tattered cloth closed over her breasts and hurried through the living room. The open
wood
beams gleamed as she looked up at the pitch of the high ceiling. The post and beam theme continued up the L-shape staircase. The solid planks at one time
vibrated with their
love and passion. Nine years ago, side by side
,
Richard built her this beautiful house. Eleven months and seven days of sweat, sore muscles, love, tears
,
joy, short tempers
,
and fierce lovemaking had created
this house
.

She froze at the top of the stairs. Clasping her hands in front of her, she fought to hold back the ache that pitched from some place deep within. Her ribs
,
stomach
,
throat ached. Whoever said time healed all wounds lied. The solid wood door was a banishment. She turned the knob and pressed open the door, stepping in.

The twin bed
with a
pink
Cinderella
bedspread nearly brought her to her knees, as if someone rammed their fist in
to
her stomach. The blonde and dark haired dolls and
stuffed animals
were assembled neatly on her pillow. The six drawer dresser with hand painted rosebuds on the drawer fronts hadn’t moved.

When Lily was six months old
,
Maggie painted each pink flower as
a
token of
her
love. She picked up the silver framed picture of Lily in her arms moments after she was born. She traced the outline of her baby’s head
,
her eyes wide open
and
filled with a spark of light. But even then
,
she gazed into shadows as if not entirely seeing. Maggie shut her eyes
,
pressed the picture frame against her chest, and tried to resurrect some remnant of her precious girl. Some piece of her now lost from that horrible fateful day.

“Oh
God
, how could you take her
?
” Her voice trembled. She ached just being here in this room. Except something was different. As if Lily
was
here with her now.

Maggie didn’t know how long she lay on Lily’s bed, her back pressed into the soft plush mattress
,
remembering all the nights she lay cuddled next to her tiny daughter
,
holding her through one of many night terrors.

How many nights after the accident had she lain here
,
never leaving this room
,
while the rift between her and Richard grew wider than the
Great Divide
?
Add in the blame they heaped on each other. Richard spent weeks drunk, disappearing during the day. At night
,
he’d come and go. Until the memories and pain of this place became too much to bear.

The furnished house in Gardiner appeared in the local paper for rent. Maggie believed this was meant to be. She phoned, met with the property management company
,
and signed the lease. All in one day. Then she packed up her and Ryley’s belonging in two suitcases. And pulled away in their SUV while Richard was gone. She didn’t leave a note. Ryley at eight years old, screamed and cried as far as the main road,
and
then he sulked in the backseat. “It’s going to be better, I promise.” Maggie believed by leaving
,
she’d finally be able to breathe without the burning ache ripping her apart.

The eruption from Richard when he tracked her down through
the
school
,
and the ensuing fight were ugly. She clawed his cheek with her nails. He seized her SUV. He cancelled her credit cards. She obtained a lawyer and filed for legal separation. He got his own lawyer too. Hers
,
as she looked back
,
was good
.
He
wasn’t in it for the money
,
and he warned her from the beginning to play fair. They were both grieving
from
a terrible loss. His lawyer was dirty and only in it for the money.