Maggie's Five ...the first in a LOVE story (7 page)

“
They
were never average Maggie Mae.”

We used to think
the nick-names we gave each other sounded so cool when we were
kids, so
Bonnie and Clyde
, but now they just sound like bad,
out-dated songs. It’s funny how we never gave one to Brendan, even
though he was always the one coming to our rescue when we bit off
more than we could chew - which was most of the time. Maybe we
should have tagged him the Lone Ranger. He certainly was perfect
enough; to me anyway.

“
It’s
time, Maggie,” Jon whispers from his seat beside me. “And this
ground is killing my arse. How can you sit there without moving for
so long?”

“
Can’t feel it anymore” I reply, slurring some of my
words.

“
You
can’t feel what, the ground or your butt?” I can hear the smile in
his voice and it makes me smile too.

“
Yep.” I lift my eyes and tilt my chin towards the sun’s rays
as it breaks free of a small white cloud and floods us in its
warmth.

“
Yep
what?”

“
Just… yep.”

“
Are
you drunk Maggie Mae?”

“
Yep.”

“
Yep?”

“
Yep.”

“
Good.”

“
Isn’t this place the best, Jonny Boy?” I say, attempting to
stand without falling. “You can get married, christen the kids and
get buried all within walking distance.”

Straightening, I
notice a figure leaning against the thick trunk a couple of trees
over. Jon steps in closer, hand on my arm to help keep me steady
then follows my line of sight.

“
He’s
been there for as long as you’ve been here.”

“
Why?”

I know it’s rude
and an ungrateful thing to ask, but I can’t help but wonder. Luke’s
been fantastic, but he’s not family and it’s been years since we
saw each other.

“
Be
easy on him Mags, he’s been through a tough time too,” is all Jon
offers as an explanation, before taking my arm and leading me to my
family’s final resting place.

I think Jon’s
right. It is a good thing that I’m a little drunk right now. It
does make walking in heels a bitch though, so I stop and kick them
off, not bothering to pick them up.

Apparently this
is a very important step to take towards acceptance, watching my
life being lowered into the cold dark ground and covered in damp
earth, trapped away for all eternity.

I think whoever
told me that is full of shit.

My mind becomes
consumed with gloomy confined spaces and a lack of oxygen. How
Mattie hates being left in the dark without a night light. I should
have remembered to give her one. What sort of parent am I to forget
something as important as that?

My mouth opens.
I’m about to tell them to stop lowering my girls when a hand grips
my shoulder and fills me with the sense of security, coaxing me
into a protective hold.

“
They’re safe Maggie, I promise,” Luke whispers into my ear so
no one else can hear him. “Trust me.” And I do. I don’t know why,
but I do.

I look to the
grief-stricken faces of my immediate family, openly shedding
unsurmountable tears of their own as they work their way around my
husband and children, murmuring their last words while watching the
caskets descend. I feel my body following suit until I’m sitting
with my legs folded uncomfortably underneath me. Once again I’ve
dragged Luke along; he’s ended up propped awkwardly by my side.
Jon’s squatting at my feet, crushing my fingers. Or maybe I’m
crushing his.

I watch in
suffocating horror as the tips of the flowers resting on polished
timber lids slowly disappear below ground level, taking all I have
left with them.

Then that’s all
there is.

It’s
over.

two

Chapter 4

“
AREN’T YOU SICK of me yet?” I’m using
an easy-going inside voice aimed towards the kitchen, hoping I
don’t miss a step while climbing down the stairs with my arms full.
The house is so much quieter these days, there’s seldom the need
for raised voices anymore. It makes me sad. I never thought the day
would come when I’d miss all the noise.

I am about ready
to regret my question after a prolonged silence fills the air,
before Luke offers me a response.

“
Not
yet,” he replies distractedly, looking up from his laptop as I walk
into the room, “Hey, what have you got there?” he asks, pushing his
chair back to stand. He meets me in the doorway and frees my arms
from my load without having to ask him for help. Not that I needed
it. This is classic gentleman Luke, never complaining or
questioning; even when I do something so bizarre it has him raising
his eyebrows. I like it but don’t at the same time.

Jon’s been
spending more time at home with his parents. Apparently they aren’t
coping and are thinking they need some time away from it all. Us
all. He also has a job that he has to get back to. Maybe I should
look at getting a job, but then what? I just don’t know at the
moment.

“
Well, you’ve been wearing the same half dozen things for the
last month or so. I thought you could use something else to put on
for a change.”

He looks to the
bundle and compresses his lips into a thin line. I’m not sure if I
know Luke well enough to be able to decipher all of his
expressions, but this one has me feeling insecure, and now I’m
worried that I’ve offended him by offering up a dead man’s
clothes.

“
They’re good, all washed and pressed. Actually he hardly wore
most of this stuff. Some of them still have their tags on. But it’s
fine if you don’t want them. I’ll understand.” I’m trying to give
Luke an out so he doesn’t feel trapped into taking them.

“
You
sure Maggie?” Luke asks, narrowing his rich blue eyes as he
inspects my face.

“
No,”
I laugh. It’s a bland attempt, but still an attempt. I really don’t
know how I’ll feel about him wearing Brendan’s things. In theory I
think I’m fine with it but, I guess I’ll find out if he decides to
take up my offer. “But it’s a start, right?”

Luke’s
expression softens as he leans in and presses a kiss to my cheek.
“Are you suggesting I smell bad, Maggie Mae?” he chuckles, using
the silly nick name Jon gave me years ago.

“
Not
you too, Luke,” I fake whine. If asked I would never admit it, but
I actually like the way my name sounds coming from him.

Suddenly the
room becomes too stuffy and it feels awkward with him in my space,
so I move to the opposite side of the kitchen. He’s set up a make
shift office there since we don’t use the table for
meals.

And he does
smell, just not bad. “Please take the clothes if you want them,
Luke. You’re a bit broader than… what… he… they might be a snug
fit, but they should be fine,” I finish in a rush. I don’t
understand this. I can think Brendan’s name and I can stare at him
for hours whenever I close my eyes, so why can’t I mention him out
loud or stand the sight of all the photos scattered around my
house?

Luke picks a
black t-shirt with white stick figures depicting the human
evolution chart printed across the front, and holds it up in
question. I raise my shoulder and glance away from his searching
eyes in response.

Quirking a smile
with one side of his mouth, he drops Brendan’s shirt back on the
pile, takes hold of the hem of his white tee and whips it over his
head.

Right in front
of me.

Topless.

Good God, the
man’s beautiful - tanned from our summer sun, toned to perfection
well before he found me. My eyes zero in on his abs - all six of
them. He has a tattoo I can’t quite make out from this distance
inked over his left side, and a soft, dark blonde happy trail
running below the waistline of his loosely hanging
jeans.

I can’t help
shamelessly ogling at the poor guy. What I can see of his body is
flawless, as in runway model perfect. Don’t get me wrong, Brendan
was lovely and more than enough for me. But Luke’s in a different
league all together.

He stands, still
holding his crumpled shirt by his side, letting me finish my brazen
inspection. His blue eyes darken when I finally return to his gaze
and I feel my face warm in embarrassment.

He lifts a
questioning brow and raises my husband’s t-shirt. “Are you sure
you’re okay with this Maggie Mae?”

With what? Him
standing there half naked in front of me?

I cup the side
of my face to cool the rising heat over my humiliating
indecisiveness. Luke in this state of undress is undeniably
beautiful and a little intimidating, so I guess the answer is no, I
don’t think so.

I’m pretty sure
I don’t think so.

Am I sure that
I’m ready for him to be wearing my husband’s clothes right in front
of me? Not at all but… “I’m fine Luke, really. Just cover your ugly
arse up.”

He does the
right thing and offers a chuckle at my attempt to make light of the
situation, sliding the t-shirt over his head. I turn to leave the
kitchen needing space when he calls me back. My breath catches when
I find him shrugging into Brendan’s top. He looks good. Brendan
looks good on him.

“
Um,
Maggie you received a letter this morning and I may have opened
it,” he murmurs almost sounding nervous. Reaching for the offending
paper, he holds it out for me like it’s an offering.

I instantly zero
in on the expensive parchment and letterhead. “You opened my mail?”
I ask in disbelief. “Don’t you think you’re over stepping the mark
a tad there, buster?”

“
Buster?” Unfortunately he shakes the distraction out of his
head before I can run with it. It was worth a shot. “You had a
phone call as well-”

“
Which I heard from upstairs and was happy to let it go to the
machine.”

What is with
this guy all of sudden?

“
And
you know full well they’ve left over a dozen messages for you
Maggie. So don’t get shitty with me, because I did what you should
have done weeks ago.”

Oh, I’ll get
shitty over whatever the hell I want and with whoever the hell I
choose. And right now I choose Lucas Andrews.

“
Who
on earth do you think you are? You can’t just come waltzing in here
and take-”

“
Maggie, read the bloody letter.” He extends his arm and gives
the page a shake for emphasis. Luke’s nostrils flare as he inhales
deeply trying to keep his composure when I cross my arms tightly
over my chest, refusing to take it. Good, he’s getting pissed off
too.

“
No.”

“
Maggie.” He draws out my name in a deeper tone than he was
using seconds ago.

I mimic him
childishly. “Luke.”

“
Read
it or I’m going to-”

“
NO.”

I’m losing my
temper, something I very rarely do. I can feel the tension
building, gripping my muscles, ready to explode; and for some
strange reason I like it, relishing the escalation of heat
filtering through me, set to erupt.

It’s like I want
to get mad, be angry with something or someone, or everything and
everyone.

“
Why
not?” Luke bites back without missing a beat. Brendan would never
have spoken to me in such a harsh tone, and the impact of it forces
me to rear up a step.

“
Don’t you-”

“
Read
it.” He uses the same tone even though he can see I’m
floundering.

I’m quickly
learning that it’s one thing to yell at someone and another thing
all together to be yelled at.

Panicking, I
scream the first thing that comes to mind. “GET OUT.”

And instantly
regret it.

Thank God he
ignores me.

“
Read
the bloody letter.”

“
NO.”

I’m really
shouting now. My heart’s pumping and my temples pound under the
pressure. I don’t argue well, so I’m making it all up as I go. I
don’t have a plan nor am I thinking anything through. I only know
that I don’t want to read the letter, and I do not want to hear
what Luke has to say about it. It’s none of his business. I’m none
of his business.

Stepping into my
personal space, Luke yells just as loudly, “Why not?”

My mind goes
blank with his proximity. I can’t hold his penetrating glare, so I
become the coward and look away, frantically searching for an
escape.

He grabs hold of
my upper arm to stop me from running like I want to, and repeats
his last question in a harder, quieter tone. Strangely, this is far
more intimidating than all the screaming.

“
Why
not Maggie?”

I jerk my arm
from his gentle grip. He takes a step to my right so we’re standing
toe to toe, and blocks my only exit. I breathe angry breaths,
opting to stare at his mouth because I haven’t the courage to look
back into his eyes. Then I inhale the overwhelming scent radiating
off of him, which almost brings me to my knees.