Save My Soul (13 page)

He looked to the microwave clock over Maggie's right shoulder. “No.” He dropped the clay. “Time for
House Hunters
.” Pushing against the table, he stood without another word.

Maggie gave a weak smile and started stuffing balls of clay into their plastic containers. “I'll leave this stuff on the table in case you want to mess around with it later.”

He didn't respond.

She was close to a breakthrough, but still so far away.

After cleaning and lingering a bit in case Carlos decided to talk more, Maggie thought it was safe to call Crystal. She was wrong.

“Moving to Idaho is a bad idea,” Maggie warned.

“It sounds like you're disapproving of my right to be a free, unadulterated participant in this life. And that makes me wonder what's going on in North Carolina? You're closing up. I sense it all the way out here.”

“I'm not closing. I'm navigating some confusing spots.”

“Then let's talk, and we can pray for illumination.”

Maggie didn't feel like praying. She felt like screaming at her thick-skulled mother, who thought traveling to Idaho with Paul and Katherine was a good idea.

“Magpie, tell me what's bothering you.”

The spider appeared in her dreams again last night, and once again the eight-legged nemesis led her straight to Jordon. Was she supposed to save Jordon or was she supposed to save herself from Jordon? The pressure built in her head. As much as she wanted to focus on Crystal, to talk her out of further separating herself from mainstream society by becoming a polygamist, Maggie was struggling. Maybe Crystal could help.

“I'm having reoccurring dreams about a spider. The scenery changes slightly, but the spider is the same every night.”

“The spider is symbolic of your power as a woman.”

Maggie dipped the receiver from her mouth and scoffed. “Yep. That's the conclusion I originally came to.” But after exerting her feminine power over Jordon in the backseat of his car and having the dreams continue … “I'm having second thoughts.”

“Why? What does the spider do?”

“The spider teases me, urges me to follow it, and talks to me.”

“What does the spider say?”

“Save me.”

“Oh, Magpie. And you're worried about me?”

Uncomfortable weight imprisoned Maggie's chest as she tried to breathe. “Why? What's wrong?”

“You're the spider. You're the one who needs saving, but from what? You aren't telling me the whole story.”

Of course she wasn't telling Crystal the whole story. Where would she start? At the beginning, when Maggie took an insane assignment across the country rather than stay home and navigate her nervous breakdown under Crystal's nose, or at the end, when Maggie couldn't bring herself to escape Jordon?

With a sigh, Maggie aimed to close the conversation. “There isn't anything to tell. Carlos is making progress, but I'm having a hard time getting to the point where that progress is tangible.”

“You and your tangibility. Haven't I always told you what's touchable isn't what's most important?”

“You have.”

“Then why do you insist on holding on to the physical world? Be free, darling. Be free to save yourself.”

Maggie wallowed in confusion. If she was the spider who needed saving, how was she supposed to accomplish the feat? If Maggie wasn't the spider, then who was? An underused space of critical thinking roared to life in Maggie's brain.
Sometimes a dream is just a dream.
The voice in her head wasn't her voice — it was Jordon's.

It always came back to Jordon.

Maggie spent the next hour in bed with her laptop opened to real estate pages, while Carlos was locked in his room on the phone. If Crystal was serious about being with Paul and Katherine, Maggie wanted out of her mother's house as soon as possible. She was starting to realize even open-mindedness had its closing point. For Maggie, polygamy was apparently that point. She couldn't imagine her life intertwined with Crystal, Paul, and Katherine.

Closing her eyes, Maggie tried to visualize her dream home. She conjured an image of a stone walk, which led to a large white door. When she opened the door, Jordon was waiting for her, standing in front of the glass sliding doors. Sunlight bounced off the ever-blue lake, surrounding him in a halo.

She snapped her lids open and slammed her laptop shut.

Attachment was a dangerous game, but still, Maggie wished Jordon would call. No matter how much she lamented and analyzed the situation, one thing was clear. Carlos was the reason she came to North Carolina, but Jordon was the reason she stayed. What she wouldn't give to find him sitting on the pier, where they could explore their feelings and get the answers to all their questions — even if the answers pushed them apart. At least then she'd be sure. She hated being stuck between torment and indecision. Why was it so many of life's struggles rooted in relationships?

The simple, hypothetical question became a revelation, and her brain lightened. In her moment of clarity, Maggie would've bet her credentials that Carlos Nunez thought he was in love, and a woman stood between him and his successful return to the plate.

• • •

Jordon glanced at his watch as he stepped off the elevator, thinking again about calling Maggie. He had a couple hours between meetings and plenty of time to check on her progress with Carlos.

With a tug on his tie, he growled. Who was he kidding? He cared about Carlos's progress, but this time it was an excuse to call Maggie. Jordon wasn't an excuses kind of guy. Too bad he'd been making excuses where Maggie was concerned since the day they met.

Shoving through the revolving doors on a wave of disgust, Jordon filtered into the New York City crowd. He walked a few blocks, hoping to clear his head and gain some perspective. Instead, he came face to face with his ex-wife.

Bethany's rounded stomach stretched between the edges of her tweed coat, overshadowing her boobs. Jordon found an odd satisfaction in the fact that his favorite part of her body was no longer the main attraction.

“Oh, my God,” she squealed, throwing her arms around his neck and pushing her belly into his side. “How are you?”

Jordon wrapped his hands around her wrists and unlatched her from his neck. “Busy.”

She settled to her feet and spied him through narrowed eyes. “So nothing's changed?”

He stared at the bump which housed another man's child. “I'd say a lot has changed. Good luck with that.” He made a gesture toward her stomach and stomped away.

The tapping behind him warned that she'd followed. Maybe he could out-walk her. After all, she was in heels, and with a belly like that, she couldn't have much balance.

Who wore heels when they were pregnant? Bethany, of course. He rolled his eyes.

“You know, I'd hoped we could be civil when we ran into each other like this.”

Jordon chuckled and picked up his pace. She was an idiot.

“Jordon, please.” She whined loudly enough to paint him the jerk who would upset a pregnant woman.

With his eyes closed, he stopped. “What more could you possibly want from me?”

When he opened his eyes, she was standing there, staring at him like he'd mutated into a wounded animal worthy of pity. “I never … I thought … ” And then her cold blue eyes pooled with tears.

His stomach clawed into his throat. This wasn't happening. Jordon Kemmons wasn't standing in the middle of a busy Times Square sidewalk, facing his pregnant ex-wife. But he was, and he couldn't figure out how to make her go away. If he walked, and she caused a scene, word was bound to get around. And while the agent tried not to care about his reputation, the man was already struggling.

“I have a meeting in five,” he lied, hoping the agent could end this conversation without personal drama.

But she stepped forward and tugged on his lapel. “I just wanted to say hello. I wanted to see how you were doing. I think about you.”

He winced.

“I know you'll never believe this, but I want you to be happy.” She raised her voice over honking horns.

He considered wincing again, but he was too numb to manage the expression.

Sliding a hand to her stomach, she smiled. It was a look he'd rarely seen. “God, Jordon, there is so much more to life than money and power.”

Easy for her to say.

Dropping his face into his scarf to hide the dry heaves, Jordon spun around and walked away. He wasn't going to be subjected to another minute of her self-righteous attempt to mend his broken heart. His heart wasn't broken, he thought, clenching his fists inside his coat pockets. His ego was bruised, and his bank account was drained, but his heart was fine … he never gave it to her in the first place. And that had been their fatal mistake.

Obviously Bethany didn't make the same mistake twice. By the joyful look on her face despite his icy reception of her, it was clear she loved the asshole she cheated with. Not that love made what she'd done any better. But in a sick way it gave Jordon hope. If she could lie and cheat and still find happiness, then why couldn't he?

The low-lying fog gathering between skyscrapers began to clear, and Jordon allowed himself a moment of uncharacteristic spiritual belief. It was a sign. It had to be.

With his head high and his mind clear for the first time in years, Jordon faced the future. First, he would close this deal for Manuel, and then he would go home to Maggie.

Maggie managed some half-hearted yoga postures and meditated for a measly five minutes before her obsession with Carlos's love life forced her into a walk around the cul-de-sac. No matter what approach she took, Carlos managed to avoid the topic of romantic interests, further convincing her that a woman stood between him and a successful return to the plate.

Later in the evening, Maggie settled onto the sofa next to Carlos for another try at a confession. She succeeded at watching
House Hunters
and sharing miso soup and vegetarian spring rolls with him, but deep conversation failed.

As the days passed, Maggie spent the hours holding Skype sessions for other clients, cleaning the house and making excuses to be around Carlos. Eventually her stalking lead to Carlos dragging her onto the elliptical machine in Jordon's gym. He ran several miles to her walking one. As usual,
House Hunters International
blared from the flat screen.

“Do you have a girlfriend?” Maggie blurted the question out of desperation.

Carlos clenched his mouth shut, killed the motor on his machine and walked away.

By Thursday, Maggie admitted defeat. Carlos remained distant. Crystal remained unreachable. And Jordon remained in New York. She was growing more and more uncomfortable staying in North Carolina without him.

Friday blended into Saturday and then Sunday, with only Bernie's voice on the phone to break the monotony. “I'm coming to pick you two up. Boss Man wants you out of the house.”

“Is that so?” Maggie struggled to keep her frustrations from spilling onto Bernie.

“Yes. He called to check on you.”

A childish huff echoed into the phone. “Why doesn't he call me to check on me?”

“I don't know why you two do what you do. I'm just the messenger.” Bernie's rich laughter wasn't enough to make her smile.

He arrived thirty minutes later and drove them to the Harris Teeter grocery store down the street. While Bernie waited in the car, Carlos pushed a shopping cart with his forearms, and Maggie loaded it.

“Did you talk to Jordon last night?” She didn't look at Carlos. She didn't want him to see how anxious she was for information.

“
Si
.”

“And?”

“He's happy I'm working out, and he says I throw when he gets home.”

“When is he coming home?” She held an ice-cold carton of soy milk to her sweating chest.

Carlos shrugged.

She dropped the soy milk into the cart and stalked ahead. This was ridiculous. She was here for Carlos. Jordon didn't matter. He was never supposed to be in North Carolina in the first place. And she was never supposed to stay long enough for things to get complicated. This job was an opportunity for her to simplify her life and gain greater independence. If she was optimistic, a few conversations with Carlos was all that stood between her and a plane ride home. But if she was honest, something more than a few conversations with Carlos was keeping her here. She couldn't decide whether to be honest or optimistic.

If Maggie thought hearing from Jordon would make the choice easier, she was wrong.

“I'm sorry I didn't call sooner. I've been busy,” he said in that skin-tingling voice she'd come to know.

Maggie leaned against her seagrass headboard, brushing the bumps from her arms with a reminder that he hadn't been too busy to call Bernie and Carlos. “It's no big deal,” she spouted a little too enthusiastically.

“It is to me. I've been thinking about you … a lot … for a long time actually, and I wanted you to know.”

She rubbed her knuckles against the knot between her breasts and told herself his words made matters worse. How was she supposed to simplify her life by indulging in a man who complicated everything? “Jordon, don't.”

“Don't what?”

“Don't make this complicated.”

He quieted long enough to make her squirm. “Maggie, I'm not complicating anything. From where I sit, it's pretty simple. I know what I want.”

“Sex,” she said matter-of-factly.

“For starters.”

Her throat squeezed shut. Then what? After the sex, after Maggie left North Carolina, then what? Her brain refused to go there. Collins women didn't fall in love, and they most certainly didn't marry. Foolish notions and archaic institutions. Then she remembered where her mother was and what she might be doing. Marrying Paul and Katherine. But it wasn't the same. For starters, polygamy was illegal, and it wasn't recognized as normal by society. While those things were deterrents to Maggie, they attracted her mother. Leave it to Crystal to find a version of marriage that coincided with her spiritual beliefs. But what about Maggie?