‘Dune Girl’ final chapters

Ah, it’s summer! If you haven’t made it to the beach — yet — here’s a free read/beach reach/clean read from a point in my writing career at which I was experimenting with romance novels.

This post includes the novel’s final chapters. If you missed the beginning of the story, click here to start at Chapter 1.

Dune Girl

copyright 2018

by Nora Edinger

Chapter 31

Maggie and Hannah were still laughing over Jo-Jo’s and David’s courthouse wedding the following Monday. A leisurely lunch of chicken wraps, salad and iced coffee in Hannah’s cozy office made a delightful break, particularly since the shop was closed for the day.

“It somehow seems right for the two of them,” Hannah declared. “I’ve only met him a couple of times when he was visiting Michael, but I’ve seen enough to know they’re both ‘seize-the-day’ types.”

“What’s David like otherwise?” Maggie, asked, polishing off the last bite of her wrap. Mmmm. She loved chipotle sauce.

“He’s a big blonde guy,” Hannah said. “Dark eyes. Handsome in a tooth-paste ad kind of way. Kind of brash. But, he’s always seemed like a godly man.”

“That’s what Michael said.”

“Is Michael bent out of shape about the wedding?”

“No. Not really,” Maggie said slowly, recalling his pleasant companionship at church the previous morning. He’d asked her to fly to the post-wedding reception with him and Miss Naomi since they would all be going. He’d already booked tickets, in fact. “I think it was just that it happened so fast and that David has been his best friend for so many years. It was a surprise.”

“And, what a surprise,” Hannah said dreamily, sipping the last of her coffee. “A county courthouse wedding and, then, a honeymoon in Paris. Can you imagine?”

“No, I can’t really,” Maggie said truthfully. “I’m much too old-fashioned for that.”

Realizing the conversation could easily turn to her own wedding disaster — which had also included Paris in its honeymoon itinerary — Maggie quickly changed the subject to the stash of new pillows she had brought over. It turned out the first batch she’d brought to The Station Shoppe had sold out over the busy first weekend of August.

“I have one more pillow in the car,” Maggie said. “I’ll run and get it.”

“Are you sure you want to sell this,” Hannah asked warily when Maggie returned to flop the pillow that had started it all onto the office work table. “I can’t get what it’s worth given the fine fabric. The Duneland market won’t bear it and I don’t do very much Internet sales.”

“I just want to get rid of it, Hannah. I don’t really care what price it brings.”

“Well, I guess I can understand that. Maybe it will sell …. ohhhh!”

Maggie looked at her friend in alarm. Hannah was clutching her belly.

“The baby kicked,” Hannah said, her voice filled with awe.

Maggie let out her breath in relief.

“I’ve been feeling flutters for a week or so now, but this was the first big kick. Oh — there it is again!” Hannah placed Maggie’s hand on her belly, already noticeably rounder than it had been even as recently as their Shipsewana trip. Maggie felt a soft push against her fingers.

“That’s amazing,” she said, smiling in a wonder and a vague longing of her own as the baby kicked once more, against her palm this time. She remembered — more-or-less — the words she had read in Psalm 139 and shared them with her friend. “God knit me together. I will praise Him because I’m fearfully and wonderfully made.”

Hannah smiled in delight at the appropriateness of the scripture, her own hand still resting on her tummy. Maggie had a sudden thought, however. Pretty much all of her sisters-in-law and a few of her work friends had shared the same marvel with her at some point in their own pregnancies, but this was the first time Maggie had felt anything other than mild embarrassment. That realization made Maggie frown, which brought Hannah right out of her reverie.

“I’m sorry, Maggie. I keep forgetting you had planned to be married now. I hope I didn’t make you feel sad.”

“You didn’t,” Maggie said, surprised at the honesty of her statement. “It’s just that I was thinking how odd it was that Stephen and I had never really considered the possibility of a baby even though we were nearly married. We didn’t even talk about children until we had already broken up. That doesn’t seem normal, does it?”

Hannah looked at her friend pointedly.

“Maybe your heart knew all along that he wasn’t the right man.”

Maggie had no answer to that. She simply wished Hannah well and waved a good-bye as she headed back to her car.

*****

Across town, another pair of friends was also talking about the elopement.

“How is the party planning going?” Miss Naomi asked Helen Alton, her niece and Michael’s and Jo-Jo’s mother.

The two didn’t talk on the phone often. It was easy to grow out of the habit when one lived so far away. But, the older woman had always had a soft spot for her cheerful niece and felt like she needed to check in given the circumstances.

“Oh, you know how these things are, Aunt Naomi … lots of little details and less than a month to pull it all together. But, I think it will be marvelous.

“They want to have it at Caldwell House instead of here since they’re already married and that will be their home. I was a little disappointed at that, but we had Michael and Elena’s reception here at Alton Mansion. So, I really can’t complain. I’m just delighted Jo-Jo wants my help. And, I can’t imagine a better match for her than David. I’ve loved him like a son for years. Now, he really is one. This is so much fun. I can’t wait to see the two of them when they get back.”

Miss Naomi was relieved good-natured Helen had not been offended at Jo-Jo and David’s elopement. Her own mother had never gotten over her own with Daniel. If she concentrated, she could still hear her mother’s shrill complaints ringing in her ears all these decades later.

“It’s seems pretty romantic to me, but I guess I have a soft spot for dramatic weddings,” Miss Naomi laughed.

Helen laughed, too.

“Yes, you certainly do. Maybe it runs in the family. From what I hear from Jo-Jo, it sounds like more drama is brewing. Michael won’t say a word, but Jo-Jo’s so convinced he’s in love with this Maggie Brady that she insisted I mail Grandmother Alton’s ring to him. What is this girl like?”

“She’s a lovely young woman, hair as red as yours and very pretty,” Naomi said. “She’s sweet and smart and seems to be really growing as a Christian. She’s scheduled to be baptized next Sunday, in fact.”

“Are they in love?”

“Maybe. I think they’re mostly just circling each other right now. They’re both pretty wounded. I don’t think either one wants to rush into anything.”

“I hope they don’t,” Helen admitted. “I trust what you and Jo-Jo say about her, but I’ve seen so much about this girl in the news that it makes me a little nervous for Michael. It was so awful what happened with Elena. I don’t want to see him get hurt again.”

“I can understand that, Helen, but I think you will be pleasantly surprised when you meet her. She really is lovely, inside and out.”

“You sound like meeting her is a done deal,” Helen laughed. “Spill it, Aunt Naomi. what do you know?”

“Didn’t Jo-Jo tell you? She’s invited Maggie to the reception — by text of all things. Michael has already booked tickets for the three of us to fly down to the reception together.”

“Where you will, of course, all stay at Alton Mansion,” Helen said with a grin that was practically audible. “This should be one very entertaining weekend. Isn’t life full of surprises?”

Chapter 32

“Mexican food and a dune hike? How could I say no?” Maggie said when Michael phoned with his suggestion for an evening outing. Other than church, they’d been so busy with work they hadn’t seen much of each other since their unexpected dinner in Michigan.

“Well, we’d better do the dune hike first. Otherwise, we’ll be so full we probably won’t make it up Mount Baldy. Can I pick you up at 5?” Michael asked.

“Sure,” Maggie said, ending the call and shutting down her new laptop simultaneously. She loved her little kitchen office. She’d found an old enamel-top table from the 1930s at a local antique shop to use as a desk. The red legs and mint-green top were a nice contrast to the sea of white in that room.

It had been a long day. After visiting Hannah, she’d worked a while on a logo for the tiny Dune Girl labels she planned on attaching to the sides of her pillows. Nothing she’d designed so far really looked right. Maybe it would come to her tomorrow. Or, perhaps one graphic design class in college hadn’t been enough for this particular challenge.

For now, she had to figure out what to wear for their hike and dinner. All of her beach walking so far had been confined to the actual beach. She wasn’t sure why — maybe it was the more obvious allure of the waves — but she hadn’t been into the dunes even once. It took her a long time to settle on wide-legged linen capri pants and a sage-green knit shirt that sparkled with beads at the neck and at the edge of her sleeves. She was still putting on shoes when Michael arrived.

“Um, you might want to try something more like trainers,” Michael said, eyeing her strappy sandals skeptically. He was wearing knee-length cargo shorts and a polo shirt with athletic shoes, she noticed.

“OK. It’ll just take me a minute.” Maggie returned to her closet and pulled out a pair of open-weave sneaker sandals. They weren’t a perfect match to the outfit, but they weren’t awful. Impulsively, she threw the beaded sandals into her mesh bag. They’d be prettier for dinner. She’d just change.

“Are these better?” she asked when she returned to find him sprawled, eyes closed, on her sofa.

“Perfect,” he said, after rousing himself to take a good look at her feet.

“When did you start work this morning?” Maggie asked suspiciously.

“Maybe four.”

“Four a.m.! Michael! We don’t have to go dune climbing tonight, you know.”

“I know,” he said, smiling as he led her out the door and toward his own car this time. “But, I still want to.”

*****

“When I was here on visits when I was a kid, it was even harder to climb. There weren’t any stairs then,” Michael laughed, pulling her by the hand as they continued to climb the south side of the 126-foot dune.

“And, it was uphill both ways. In the snow,” Maggie joked.

“I don’t know about the snow, we only visited in the summer,” he joked right back. “But, you will soon see that it really is uphill — both ways.”

“Wow,” Maggie said in pleased surprise as they finally reached the summit. The back side of the dune had been covered with trees, many of them partially buried in the sand. But, the side that faced the lake was a bare, sandy expanse that — except for a few patches of marram grass here and there — extended all the way down to the water far below.

“That’s what makes it a live dune,” Michael explained after giving her plenty of time to look all around. “There isn’t enough vegetation to hold the sand in place so wind is moving the whole dune inland some four feet a year. It’s not just trees. There are whole cottages buried beneath some of the live dunes. And, this is the biggest live dune on the Indiana Lakeshore.”

“My legs can believe that,” Maggie laughed.

“Oh, just wait,” Michael said. He playfully grabbed her wrist in a way that caused her to instinctively lock her own fingers around his lower arm in like manner. “Are you ready?”

Before she could ask, “ready for what,” Michael was pulling her down the face of the dune in a pell-mell descent. Kept upright by the strength of his grip, Maggie abandoned control to match his pace. At times, they were more flying than running. She collapsed, laughing, in a heap when he released her just short of the waves. Michael flopped down beside her onto the dry sand and they watched each other, wordlessly but happily, as they regained their breath.

It seemed like the most natural and expected thing in the world when he moved in for a kiss. Less anticipated was the errant Frisbee that smacked him right in the eye before he could make contact.

“What was that?” he asked, jerking well away from her. He seemed as alarmed by Maggie’s wide-eyed stare as with the strike.

“It was a Frisbee,” Maggie said, already up on her knees and tentatively touching his cheek. “Michael, are you wearing contacts? Because if you are, you need to get the left one out right now. Your eye is almost swollen shut already.”

Michael touched his face only to wince in pain. “Wow, that hurts.”

“Sorry, dude,” the teen-aged boy who threw the offending Frisbee said. He picked up the disc, showering a great deal of sand on them both in the process.

Michael mumbled a “no problem” and stood to his feet. “Kids,” he whispered, pulling Maggie up to join him. He pointed to the top of the dune that stood between them and his car.

“No contacts to worry about, but some ice sounds pretty good about now,” he said, with a broad grin she knew was only for her benefit. He flinched in pain. She flinched in empathy. “Unfortunately, my car is on the other side of that pile of sand.”

Maggie dusted herself off without speaking. This time, she was the one who took Michael’s hand. They climbed the dune together, sliding at least one step down for every two steps up.

No irony there, she couldn’t help but think.

*****

“So, what is a Brady birthday party going to be like?” Michael asked as they tucked into a bag of take-out tacos. They’d opted for that and a lakeside bench instead of La Casita this time given the whole Frisbee-to-the-eye thing.

“Pretty casual. It’s at our family home in Hyde Park, but my dad likes any party in the summer to be outdoors — so, it’s kind of a classy picnic type thing,” Maggie said, trying to ignore the fact he was holding a bag of frozen peas wrapped in an old T-shirt over his eye with one hand and attempting to eat with the other. A small pile of shredded lettuce was forming on his lap.

“Actually, I wonder what my family will think of how I look in my beach clothes. They’re not used to Maggie Kelley, Christian Dune Girl.”

“I like Maggie Brady, Christian Dune Girl,” Michael said. “I’m sure they will, too.”

Maggie wasn’t so sure at all. “We’ll see.”

“Maybe you should worry more about how I’ll look,” he joked. “I’m just hoping my eye is better then than it looked in the car just now. Not a great first impression if it isn’t.”

“Let me see it.”

Michael removed the bag and Maggie gasped. His eye was bright purple, so swollen now that his eyelids were sealed in a tight line that swallowed all but the tips of his eyelashes.

“That bad, huh?”

Maggie lifted one eyebrow and smiled. “Do you want me to drive us home?”

“Not particularly — since you’ve never driven anything but the Cooper.”

“And a golf cart.”

“And a golf cart. That’s kind of the point,” Michael said, inadvertently smiling. The movement evidently caused another jolt of pain so sharp he closed his right eye, as well, in response. “Excellent.” He fished into his shorts pocket and handed her the keys. “Here.”

“Don’t worry, we’ll be fine,” was all she said.

Peering down from the driver’s seat a few minutes later, Maggie was less sure of their promised fineness, however. The SUV was so high off the road compared to her bambino car that she felt like they were in a tractor trailer. She looked over at an exhausted and now injured Michael. He had already tilted back his seat and appeared to be dozing.

“OK, God. If he can trust me that much, I’m trusting you to get us home safely,” she whispered in prayer. Then she backed out of their parking place and headed for Waverly Shores.

Chapter 33

“You look beautiful,” Michael said as he helped Maggie into the passenger seat of his SUV on Saturday. She was wearing the same green dress he had admired at Hannah and Eli’s party.

Maggie blushed in what he hoped was pleasure at his words. They hadn’t been together since their dune hike — Michael’s latest deadline was too pressing — but they had talked nearly daily. Michael hadn’t said anything concrete, but he hoped she had sensed their relationship had changed to something beyond friendship. As far as he was concerned, they were dating.

“Thanks. You’re looking pretty good yourself — much better than the last time I saw you,” Maggie said with a smile. He, too, was wearing the same thing he had worn at the party, with the addition of a summer sport coat.

Michael lifted his sunglasses, revealing only a slight tinge of yellow-green that could still be seen under the one eye. “All better.”

They chatted happily all the way to Chicago. Michael expertly wove through the heavy traffic and hit the various exits required to reach her family home, relieved he was the one driving this time. She probably wasn’t ready for city roads. Well, at least he wasn’t ready for her to be on city roads.

“This is it,” she said as he pulled up to the house, all brick and stone and serious money.

“Are you going to be OK?” he asked, holding her hand firmly in his as they walked up the shrub-lined brick path to the front door.

“I think so,” Maggie said, swallowing nervously.

There wasn’t time to talk any further. The door opened and a rush of Bradys was upon them. Someone must have been watching from the window.

“Maggie!” “Red,” they chorused, crushing them both in a group hug.

“Mom, Dad, this is Michael Alton,” Maggie said, beginning a round of introductions that took several minutes.

“Michael, this is my dad, Sean Brady, and my mom, Kat.”

Michael tried to keep track of names for a moment, but soon gave up. Sean Brady and Kat Brady were easy enough to remember. He could pick out Ronan, the brother whom Maggie seemed closest to, as well. All the other brothers, sisters-in-law, nieces and nephews were more than he could fathom all at once.

But, they seemed cautiously friendly, he thought with relief. Various members of the family engaged the pair of them in conversation for at least half an hour, until Kat spirited Maggie away. Michael was then left alone to be grilled — gently grilled, but still grilled – by one or two Bradys at a time.

During a brief break in that kind of “festivities,” Michael got a Coke from the well-stocked drinks table. He watched Maggie and her mother in deep conversation on the other side of the broad stone terrace that ran the back length of the grand home. Kat seemed to be doing most of the talking. Maggie looked a little tense, but not exactly unhappy.

“So, Maggie says you’re a carpenter,” Ronan said, approaching Michael from behind and offering him a glass of beer. Michael declined the beer, raising his own full glass in wordless explanation. Ronan laid the extra drink on the broad terrace railing, where he sat down, obviously waiting for a reply.

“I am,” Michael said with a guileless smile.

He’d been through this particular gauntlet with his own family enough times. When he’d first stepped down from his CEO job, no one had known quite how to introduce him for at least a year. “Carpenter” didn’t seem quite good enough for an Alton heir was their obvious message. Michael was way past that. If “carpenter” was good enough for Jesus, it was good enough for him.

Ronan smiled when he realized Michael wasn’t going to take the bait.

“OK, we know who you are,” Ronan said. “We’re just not thrilled about Maggie’s situation. This marriage is … was important to both families. And, Stephen is my friend. It’s difficult for all of us. But, it is what it is.”

Michael considered pointing out the fact that he had nothing whatsoever to do with Maggie and Stephen’s break up, but decided silence was a better option. Who knew how much he’d have to see of these people in the future.

Ronan began talking about something else or the other, but Michael ceased listening when a fresh glance at Maggie revealed that Sean Brady had joined that conversation. He could tell by an unusual stiffness to Maggie’s stance that something had drastically changed. She reminded him of a cat with its back in a high arch.

“Excuse me,” he said, leaving Ronan – who was still talking — and heading to her rescue.

She didn’t need one.

“Daddy, I can’t believe you guys would do something like this to me,” Maggie said as Michael approached. He made his presence felt by a warm hand on her back, but did nothing more to distract her attention from her parents. This was her battle and he was going to let her fight it.

Kat and Sean sent a glare Michael’s way, but otherwise ignored him. He literally backed off – moving far enough away to give them room to finish whatever had been started, but staying close enough to be, well, available should she need him.

“Maggie, this has gone too far,” Kat said, an angry frown creasing her still-pretty forehead. “Daddy and I are not going to let you throw away your life and turn into some hippie beach bum. And, now this church thing on top of everything else! Really, Maggie. Getting baptized! Next thing you know, you’ll be wearing flowers in your hair and playing a tambourine on the street corner.”

“Mom, Daddy, you really need to hear me on this,” Maggie said, angry but in control. “I love you. I love our family and I hope to always be a part of it. But, this is not my home anymore. I am going back to Waverly Shores and I plan to stay there.”

Michael wanted to applaud. Sean was obviously less impressed.

The older man leaned closer to Maggie’s face and went into the kind of full-power play that had served him so well in politics – and at home, for that matter. “No, you’re not, young lady. You’re coming back to this city, to this house and to this marriage with Stephen.”

Chapter 34

Maggie was speechless.

It was suddenly so clear to her. It wasn’t just The Plan that was in question. Her parents and she had been re-enacting this exact pattern forever. They wanted her to attend college near home. She obligingly crossed the street so to speak and went to Northwestern. They wanted a high-profile journalism career. She launched one, or was given one more like it. They wanted a political alliance with the McCutcheons. They almost got one.

No wonder they were so mad, she realized. Walking away from The Plan marked the first time she’d failed to deliver.

Her dad was talking again, still too much in her face. She could feel Michael standing directly behind her once more. It was a good, safe feeling.

“Between the Bradys and McCutcheons, we’ve done it all except the White House.” Sean hammered each word at his daughter. “That is what you and Stephen are all about. You will meet with him today and you will work this out. This wedding will happen — and it will happen soon.”

“No, it won’t, Daddy,” Maggie said softly, backing up into Michael’s waiting hands. “It won’t happen ever.”

Maggie looked at Michael over her shoulder. “Can we go home?”

“Absolutely,” Michael said, taking Maggie’s arm and nodding a cool good-bye to Sean and Kat.

But, it wasn’t over. Maggie’s parents followed them into the house and to the entry hall, where none other than Stephen himself was standing.

“You have got to be kidding,” Michael said so quietly no one but Maggie heard. She lightly touched the arm that held hers with her other hand.

“Stephen!” Sean and Kat greeted their Chosen One warmly.

Maggie and Michael kept moving toward the front door — until Stephen stepped directly in front of them.

“Maggie, you at least owe it to me to hear me out,” Stephen said, ignoring Michael’s open glare.

“I owe you nothing,” Maggie said calmly. She tried to move around him again, but Stephen once more blocked her way.

Michael clearly was tempted to flatten the guy. Maggie sensed that in his rising anger and placed a restraining hand on his arm again. This was her battle and she was going to finish it.

“What do you want, Stephen?”

Stephen looked carefully at Maggie and his voice suddenly went silky. He smiled.

“I want you, baby.”

“Baby?” She heard Michael echo Stephen’s pet name for her in a low growl, but she wasn’t distracted by either man. She was more concerned by Stephen’s tone. It was the one he used to woo jurors — or otherwise get what he wanted.

“We were good together. I don’t want to lose you,” Stephen continued. He got closer to Maggie, but seemed to change his mind after a quick glance at Michael.

“That’s certainly not what you said the last time we spoke,” she said coolly.

“I was angry, Maggie. What man wouldn’t be? But, we can put that all behind us and go on. You know I love you.”

Maggie looked carefully at Stephen and realized whatever it was that had once connected them was gone. Completely. Gone.

“No, Stephen. You don’t love me and you never did,” Maggie said, beginning to quote the scriptures they’d been studying at church and that she had been tirelessly re-reading at home without even realizing it. “Real love is patient and kind. Real love protects.”

“Real love never fails,” she continued in the kind of calm voice one might use to say, “It’s raining outside.”

Michael went so far as to actually pat her on the back in approval. But, Maggie wasn’t done.

“That’s why we failed. There was never any love, there is no covenant and there will never be one, either. You have no claim on me, Stephen.”

No claim on me. The words seemed to echo off the walls.

Again, Maggie tried to move around Stephen to the door. But, Stephen was now livid. His fist shot out and he bunched her collar into it, drawing her so close to his angry face she could feel his words on her skin. “Have it your way, Maggie. But, it’s going to cost you. Your little TV job is done for one thing.”

Michael was equally quick. He twisted Stephen’s wrist so hard Maggie expected to hear a bone snap.

“Let. Go.” That was all Michael said.

Surprisingly, Stephen did, releasing her to stalk over to where Sean and Kat stood, their mouths open in shock.

Their mouths opened even wider when Ronan exploded out of the entryway shadows to punch his friend squarely in the face, muttering several profanities and something about “can’t believe you’d treat my baby sister like this, you idiot.”

Maggie caught only a glimpse of the blood that resulted from that encounter as Michael had her by the arm and practically pulled her out of the house. “I’ll call,” Maggie said, offering a small shrug to her parents as Michael shut the door firmly behind them.

“You were amazing, Dune Girl,” he said, holding the car door open as she settled into the soft leather of the passenger seat.

Maggie took a deep breath in and let it out with a shuddering sigh. It was over. Thank God, it was over. She smiled up at her faithful friend — overwhelmed at her love for him. For, that’s what she now knew it to be. Everything she didn’t have with Stephen, she had with Michael. If it took him a while longer to figure it out, so be it. She could wait. She would wait. As long as it took.

“Well, I did appreciate that whole Jackie Chan thing you had going on there at the end,” she said with a small smile.

Michael laughed and bent to kiss her lightly on the temple. He glanced at the house as if he wondered if whatever was going on between Ronan and Stephen was over or if one or both of them would be bursting through the door at any moment. Or, if an ambulance was on the way. Maggie knew those were the thoughts going through her mind.

“So,” he said as they headed back to the Interstate. “No Chicago?”

“No Chicago.”

“No Stephen?”

Maggie shot him a withering glance and Michael laughed again.

“No Stephen,” she said, looking him directly in the eye.

Michael smiled and let go of the gear shift just long enough to squeeze her hand.

*****

“I am so sorry, Red. I can’t believe I believed that idiot when he told me you had made everything up about the baby just because you had cold feet,” Ronan said.

Maggie stared out at the lake and counted to 10 before she responded to her brother’s apology. It was late. She was tired. Forgive, the voice in her heart said. So, she did.

“It’s OK, Ronan.”

“No, it isn’t. But, unfortunately, ‘I’m sorry’ is all I have to offer.”

“Well, you did get a pretty good shot in there. Is Stephen OK?”

“Broken nose.”

Good grief. “Are you OK?”

“Broken hand.”

“I’m guessing you’re in the dog house big time with Annie,” Maggie said, referring to Ronan’s very pregnant wife, who was on the feisty side.

“You’d better believe it. It seems financial advisers aren’t supposed to go around punching lawyers – even ones who are their best friend and have dragged their sister through the mud. Actually, Annie’s pretty much over it now. She was livid, too, when she found out the part about the baby was true. So, we’re OK.”

Maggie didn’t really want to ask the next question, but she did. This was her brother, after all. “What about you and Stephen? Are you guys OK?”

Ronan didn’t answer right away. “Yeah, I think so. Dad’s doctor came to the house to tape us both up so we wouldn’t have to give our names anywhere. We didn’t want this mess in the papers again.”

Maggie rolled her eyes at that. Men. But, she decided, again, to forgive. “I’m glad, Ronan. You guys have been friends your whole lives. You shouldn’t let a bit of … well, idiocy come between you.” She left it to Ronan to decide which exactly bit of idiocy she was referring to.

“You’re OK with it? Our being friends, I mean?”

“Yeah.”

“I don’t deserve that. But, thanks, Red.”

“You’re welcome.”

“Wow. You really have changed. Mom and dad said you’re going to church.”

“I am.”

“Is this about that guy?”

“His name is Michael. But, no, it’s not about him. It’s about me. I need God just for me, Ronan. Michael just helped me figure that out.”

“That guy …

“Michael.”

“OK. Michael. He’s not going away, is he?”

“I don’t think so. Are you OK with that?”

“I think so. I just want you to be happy, Red. You deserve it after all this mess.” 

Maggie wasn’t sure she deserved the happiness Michael might bring to her, but she would certainly be thankful if God offered that particular blessing. 

“I love you, Ronan.”

“I love you, too, Red.”

Chapter 35

Why hadn’t he kissed Maggie last night – in the car or when he’d returned her to the cottage? Why hadn’t he said something definite about his interest in her? Michael had no idea in the cold light of morning. Such things had certainly been on his mind — to the point of distraction. But, somehow, it just hadn’t happened. He couldn’t explain it. Not at all.

Michael rustled his hair in frustration. Was he really this out of practice? Sure, it had been years since he’d actually dated anyone — but, it didn’t seem like dating Maggie should really be this difficult. She was single. He was single. They were both Christians. They obviously liked each other. What was his problem? And, why was he even thinking about this right now? Michael looked around his freshly emptied Sunday School room, gathered up his Bible and papers and hustled for the sanctuary. He needed to see Maggie again.

He stopped suddenly as he reached her row of seats, however. Tony, the young engineer who had obviously been interested in Maggie at Eli and Hannah’s party, was already standing beside her — right where he had intended to be.

*****

“Hey, how’s it going, Maggie?” Tony whispered, smiling in such a friendly way Maggie didn’t quite know what to say. They hadn’t talked much since that night at Hannah and Eli’s, but whenever they had, it had been all flirting all the time on his part. She smiled back, but just kept singing along with the words on the screen as he dropped his Bible onto the seat to her right.

From the corner of her eye, she noticed Michael moving into the seat on the other side of Miss Naomi, who stood to Maggie’s left. She leaned her head forward slightly to smile his way, as well.

Michael’s lips looked oddly thin and tight when he smiled back.

So, the four of them sang, the women now hemmed in between the two men. It somehow didn’t feel nearly as comfortable as being hemmed in by God, Maggie thought, not quite squelching the ornery smile that fought to spring to her face.

As the service went on, Maggie heard something about, “love is kind.” All good, she thought.

The musings bouncing around her were more varied had she only been able to read minds.

Tony’s were along the line of, Oh. Yeah.

Michael was thinking surprisingly unkind thoughts considering the fact he was actually in church at the moment.

Miss Naomi might have rolled her eyes had she not been raised better.

Pastor Bob, in contrast, was on fire! He had the good fortune to be able to mistake the four sets of intent forward stares from that particular row of seats as rapt attention. He had thought this sermon was pretty good when he’d put the finishing touches on it the previous night. But, it was always nice to get such immediate feedback.

” … Maggie Brady,” the pastor wrapped it all up, startling all four of them back to actual attention.

*****

Miss Naomi elbowed Maggie in the ribs. “It’s time. You’re supposed to go back to the baptismal.”

Maggie — who’d quite forgotten for the last half hour that she was getting baptized — grabbed her purse and her Bible — well, Michael’s Bible — and headed to the back of the church. She circled around the sanctuary via the long hall that led to the side door of the baptismal.

Hannah and the pastor’s wife, Susan, were there to meet her. Susan put a finger to her smiling lips and winked when Maggie started to speak. “Anything you say can and will be picked up by the sound system,” she whispered, motioning to a mike that dangled above the wall cut-out through which the baptismal could be seen from the sanctuary.

Maggie slipped behind a curtain provided for such purposes and changed into exercise gear. Over that, she slipped on the thick white choir robe Hannah had handed her when she came in.

She wanted to do this. She’d read about baptism in the New Testament and had talked to Pastor Bob enough to know this was an important step in her Christian life. It was right and good. But, Maggie was suddenly nervous about being right and good up in front of the entire congregation.

“It’s time,” Hannah whispered, hugging her friend before gently pushing her though the door and to edge of the baptismal.

It’s now or never, Maggie thought, resolutely stepping down into the cool water without looking out at the sanctuary. The heavy robe around her turned to lead — wet, clingy lead.

Maggie looked at Pastor Bob skeptically. He was great, but he was a pretty scrawny guy. What if he couldn’t pull both Maggie and the lead robe up fast enough?

He could, it turned out. Maggie blinked the water from her eyes as she came up from the water with the same kind of rush that had taken her down.

“Wow,” she said softly, aware only of Pastor Bob’s chuckle. That was nothing like water play at the beach or a pool. For a moment, she’d actually felt the death of the Maggie she used to be and the resurrection of a new — and better — woman.

Then, she said something into the hanging microphone Pastor Bob had maneuvered in front of her for her testimony. What she said, she had no idea. But, she did remember a moment of quiet followed by enthusiastic applause.

Hannah hugged Maggie again as soon as she was back in the changing room, heedless of the water soaking into her own church clothes.

“Oh, Maggie. That was so sweet and so beautiful,” Hannah said weepily, stepping away from her before her own outfit was a total loss. “What an appropriate passage to choose. I’ve never heard it used anywhere except for weddings, but it was perfect for your baptism.”

Maggie, now divested of the dripping robe and wrapped in towels by Susan, debated which was the lesser of two evils. She could either admit right now that she had no idea what she had said or go back out to face the congregation having no idea what she had said. The latter seemed more dangerous.

“What did I say, Hannah?” Maggie whispered, already behind the curtain and loading her wet clothes into a plastic bag Susan had provided.

“You really don’t remember?” Hannah laughed.

“No.”

“You quoted a passage from the book of Ruth, Maggie,” Hannah said. “You said, ‘Thy people shall be my people, and thy God my God.’ “

*****

Back in the sanctuary, thoughts in a certain row continued to bounce like ping pong balls.

Maggie is beautiful, even dripping wet. Michael was pleased to see she looked much happier coming up from the water than when she first stepped in. When he’d noticed her pale face at that earlier moment, it had wrenched his heart.

Her simple testimony, however, caused a sharp intake of his breath. “Thy people shall be my people, and thy God my God.”

 OK, then.

Tony was also impressed. “What a godly woman,” he said under his breath. “I am so asking her out.”

Michael heard that. He glared, but said nothing.      

At his side, Aunt Naomi quietly repeated Maggie’s words. “Thy people shall be my people, and thy God my God.”

 Her eyes misted over. She clearly had a job to do.

Chapter 36

Michael and Tony both stood waiting outside the baptismal door. What is it with this guy? Michael glared irritably at the younger man.

Tony stared right back as if he had heard Michael’s thoughts. “Dude, you’ve had more than two months to make a move. She’s an amazing woman. What did you think was going to happen?”

Who says I haven’t made a move? If Michael had planned to put those thoughts into words, there wasn’t time. Maggie, Hannah and Susan came out the door as a group. Hannah and Susan exchanged a quick wink as both men warmly congratulated Maggie, Michael reaching her first by a nose.

“Tony,” Susan said, with the sweetest of smiles. “Pastor Bob asked if you would help put the last of the chairs out in the fellowship hall. The fellowship team ran out of time this morning to finish getting everything ready for the potluck.”

Susan, Hannah, Maggie and Michael looked at Tony expectantly. He headed off with Susan pleasantly enough, glaring back at Michael only once. Hannah had somehow slipped away, as well, Michael noticed. He checked. The hallway was empty in both directions.

“Maggie, I want you to know that I…”

“Maggie,” Tony yelled, suddenly popping his head around the corner at one end of the hallway. “Save a seat for me at lunch, will you?”

If Michael had been a swearing man, he would have cut loose with a few words right then.

Maggie just smiled. She used her finger to turn Michael’s face back in her direction.

“And?” she said softly.

Michael smiled at the way she knew him well enough to echo his speech patterns. He checked the hallway again. Should I really kiss her here, in a church milling with a couple hundred people wanting lunch? Probably not.

He’d just say something to let her know how much he cared about her. The fact that the words came out in the form of a blessing that had somehow stuck in his head was a surprise even to him.

“Maggie, I pray that the God under whose wings you have come to trust will richly reward you.”

OK. That was weird. Michael stared at Maggie, stunned as his brain caught up with his mouth enough for him to figure out just where the blessing had come from. He had only wanted to tell Maggie he was interested in a dating relationship. Paraphrasing Boaz to her Ruth was a bit much. Way too much.

Maggie looked a little puzzled, however, he noticed with relief. Perhaps she didn’t recognize the words. But, if she didn’t, he thought, then she still didn’t technically know he wanted to date her. Good grief, this was ridiculously difficult.

He was just going to kiss her. Church hallway, or not.

Or not, as it turned out.

“Maggie,” Tony yelled, suddenly back at the end of the hallway. “I’m done with the chairs. Are you ready to go to lunch?”

Michael had a sudden desire to kick something.

Maggie lifted her eyebrows at Michael. “I’m game if you are.” Then, she sighed.

He couldn’t help but laugh.

*****

Michael hardly had a chance to speak to Maggie during lunch. Neither did Tony, however, he noted with satisfaction. One after another, church members stopped by the table where the three of them sat – with Aunt Naomi, Hannah and Eli – offering so much congratulations and conversation that Maggie barely touched her food.

“Eat,” he quietly suggested, himself sprinkling on the vinegar and oil she’d been trying to apply to her salad for the last ten minutes and pushing the plate in front of her. He could tell she was starving.

“Thanks,” Maggie said, quickly eating a single bite of the bread she’d dipped into the flavorful dressing before she was assailed again.

And, on and on, it went. “Do you want to go?” he mouthed silently to Maggie during another rare break. She nodded.

Michael got up from his seat – as did Maggie. As did Tony.

“Do whatever you have to do. Meet me at my car. I’m taking you to lunch,” Michael whispered in her ear as he said good-bye to the group, brushed past Tony and headed out the door.

Once outside, Michael opened all of his car doors to let out the late August heat and waited for her. He didn’t have to wait long. Maggie – and Tony – came out just a minute later. Michael rolled his eyes but did nothing. This, too, was Maggie’s battle, although he fully intended to stay within earshot.         

“Tony, you’re a great guy, and I appreciate your interest,” Maggie was saying. She turned as she spoke toward the parking lot, and Michael, whose surfer-dude waves were now standing on end.

“I just don’t feel that way about you. I hope you understand,” she said.

Tony seemed to follow the direction of her gaze more than he listened to her words.

“It’s him, isn’t it?”

Maggie just smiled. Michael, once more, wanted to applaud. Nah. He wanted to do an end-zone dance. The hot-doggier the better.

“Oh, well,” Tony said good naturedly. “You can’t blame a guy for trying.”

“No, you can’t,” Maggie said, returning his smile. “Friends?”

“Friends,” Tony said before giving her a brotherly hug.

He looked Michael’s way as he walked to his own car, lifting both hands in a humorous mock surrender. Michael nodded. He didn’t blame the guy for trying, either – at least not too much.

“So. Not Tony?” he asked with a grin as Maggie reached his SUV.

Maggie flicked his arm with her finger. Hard.

“Ouch.”

 “You promised me food, Michael Alton,” she said, sliding past him into the passenger seat and buckling up before he could offer an assisting hand.

“Yes, ma’am. I guess I had better deliver.”

*****

“You can eat more than any woman I have ever seen,” Michael said, watching in amusement as Maggie downed the last of the giant take-out burger and fries they’d gotten from the Wharf Drive-In and taken to the beach. He had finished his sweet tea – all he wanted after actually eating his lunch — long ago.

Maggie nearly choked. “You really have a way with the ladies, Michael,” she laughed after she finally managed to swallow.

Michael waggled his eyebrows at her like a villain in a silent movie. “Oh, I’ve got way better moves than that,” he said, thoroughly enjoying the light flush that sprang to Maggie’s cheeks. Who knew dating a girl with a ruddy complexion would be so much fun?

He wasn’t expecting the look of confusion that quickly followed, however.

“What is that strange sign?” she asked, pointing to a yellow caution sign just up the beach. “That wasn’t there before.” Michael turned to look. On the sign, an open-winged bird loomed over a stick-figure man with his hands over his head.

“Oh,” he said, remembering something he’d read in the local paper sometime in the last week. “There’s a young barred owl that’s been stealing people’s hats off their heads. I guess he’s trying to practice hunting and has gotten a little confused. They’re calling him Owl Capone.”

Maggie laughed. “Owl Capone! You’re kidding. That is so weird.”

“Good thing we’re not wearing hats,” he said, pushing the hair the wind had blown into his eyes away and looking down to the waves where a noisy group of children were building a sprawling sand castle.

“Oh, no. I should have a hat,” Maggie said, putting a hand to her face to feel its temperature. “Do I already have a sunburn?”

Michael inspected Maggie’s face. No sunburn. Just gorgeous red-headed Maggie –whom he was finally, finally going to kiss. He pushed his hair away again – windy days! — and smiled as he drew her into his arms.

He didn’t even see the bird coming.

Chapter 37

Maggie sat in the waiting room at the urgent-care clinic. What could possibly be taking so long? Michael had been in the examining room for more than an hour.

A nurse with short silver hair and a stride that suggested she could walk coast to coast headed out at last. “He’s all done, Mrs. Alton. You can come back now. Room 4. And, don’t worry – all that pretty hair will grow back.”

“I’m not…” Maggie said, trying to clarify their relationship, but the woman had already sailed down the hall and into another room.

Maggie approached the door of Michael’s room and knocked.

“If you’re Maggie, come on in.”

“Oh, Michael,” Maggie cried. His shirt was the first thing she saw. It was covered with blood. She hadn’t really noticed that before, given the rush to grab a towel from her cottage to put on the wounds and get to the clinic.

Maggie’s eyes went even wider as she took a closer look. There were several bald spots dotting Michael’s scalp. A wound, stitched neatly with black thread, sat in the middle of each patch. No wonder the nurse made the comment about hair.

“Twenty-two stitches,” he said, offering a small laugh. “I’ll be needing a hat for a while.”

She took his hand as they walked to the front desk.

The nurse reappeared with a prescription for antibiotics as Michael checked out.

“Make sure he takes these,” she said, reaching past Michael to hand Maggie the slip of paper. “A wild owl would be carrying all sorts of bacteria. This is not something to mess around with.”

She stopped to give Michael a stern look, then turned back to Maggie.

“And, he needs rest and some extra fluids for the next day or two. He lost quite a bit of blood. Head wounds are like that.”

The nurse pointed Michael to a chair near the front door.

“You, sit down,” she ordered. “Mrs. Alton, go get your car so your husband doesn’t have to walk through the whole parking lot.”

Maggie and Michael gave each other a look. Neither one of them had the guts to contradict the woman at the moment. He handed Maggie the keys – again – and sat down either wearily or obediently until he saw his vehicle pull up just outside the clinic’s sliding doors.

“Do you want me to drive?” Maggie asked when he made his way out. She was already out of the driver’s seat and holding out the keys to him, anticipating his response.

Michael glanced over his shoulder, which Maggie suspected was to make sure that nurse wasn’t watching. “No, I’m fine.” No sooner had he said the words, however, than the nurse in question shot out the door.

“Mrs. Alton!” she barked. Maggie, not accustomed to answering to that name, didn’t respond at first.

“I think she’s talking to you,” Michael said quietly.

“Yes?” Maggie responded to the nurse, blushing deeply.

“You drive. Remember: Rest, fluids and start those antibiotics as soon as possible.”

“Yes, ma’am,” Michael said, lifting up one hand in defeat and moving around the car to get into the passenger seat. Maggie glanced over. Michael suddenly looked very tired. Whether it was from Owl Capone, the nurse or the outright strangeness of the day she wasn’t going to speculate.

Maggie drove Michael back to his apartment, stopping first at a drug store to get the antibiotics. She’d call Hannah or Miss Naomi to help her get her car from the church parking lot at some point. She didn’t think anyone would care if it was there in the meantime.

“Can I make you some dinner?” she asked tentatively. Michael was irritable – and, since she had never seen him irritable, she wasn’t sure what to do.

“Actually, I think I would just like to lie down for a while,” he said. “But, I would sure appreciate it if you would take Max for a short walk before you go.”

As they climbed the workshop stairs to his apartment, Maggie realized she hadn’t been in his home since the day they’d met. It was a bit messier today, but Maggie mostly noticed Max, who was dancing in excitement at their arrival.

How on earth am I going to walk him? Michael didn’t seem to share her concern. He simply handed her Max’s leash and a “poo bag” (eeewwww!) and crashed on the couch.

Maggie decided to put the leash on after she got Max down the stairs lest the great beast tumble her down the lot of them. “Here, boy,” she said, patting one leg and heading for the door. Max eagerly followed, obviously pleased with this new people trick.

“Not too bad,” she said after she had Max leashed and they were walking down the street in relative unison. No jumping. No knocking anyone down. No full-face kisses. Max must be having a good day. They went down several long blocks, turned one block to the west and came back. She thought it was at least a mile. Perhaps Michael wouldn’t have to take the dog out again until morning.

Back in the apartment without incident, Maggie went to the couch where Michael still lay. He’d been up at least once, though. He was wearing a clean T-shirt and what might have been PJ bottoms. There was a tall glass of water and the bottle of antibiotics out on the end table. She sat on the sturdy coffee table in front of him, close enough that her knees were touching the edge of the couch.

Michael reached over to take her fingers into his hand and rubbed them gently with his thumb. “Long day, huh?” he asked after a long moment of simply looking at her.

“Yeah. And, that nurse…” Maggie pressed her lips together to stifle a giggle.

“Hey, at least she wasn’t sewing your skin back together,” he said with a grin.

Maggie smiled back at him.

“Hannah is coming to get me any minute,” she said, checking her watch. “I called her while I was out with Max. She’ll take me back to my car.”

“Oh, yeah,” Michael said, rubbing his face wearily with his other hand. “Sorry about that.”

“No problem,” Maggie said, rising from the coffee table. But, Michael caught her by the back of her leg before she could get away.

“Can you stay a couple more minutes?”

She sat at once.

“Maggie, I need to go away for several days. There’s some business I need to take care of that I should have done a long time ago,” Michael said, watching her face carefully as he spoke. He must have seen something there that bothered him, for he rose up into a sitting position and pulled her toward him.

“I’m not running away. Not at all,” he said, gently tracing the side of her face with the back of his finger. “It’s not like it was at the beginning of the summer. I’ll be back in plenty of time to take you to Raleigh – with me.

“You’ll be OK?” he finished up.

“Yes, Michael,” Maggie smiled. “I’ll be OK.”

Michael settled back onto the couch with a groan even before she stood. “And, don’t worry. My hair grows quickly.”

Maggie laughed as she let herself out.

*****

A long nap later, Michael was rooting through his dresser and closet, throwing stuff in the rather disreputable duffel bag he had found rolled up under his bed. He wouldn’t need that much for this trip. Max sat worriedly at his feet. He hated luggage. Michael bent down to scratch the dog’s ears.

“Don’t worry, buddy. You’re going with me. We leave in the morning.”

Max settled down with his substantial snout on top of the duffle, gave a snort and went to sleep. He knew the words “buddy” and “going with me,” but he wasn’t taking any chances.

Chapter 38

Michael smiled as the Midwest’s pancake flatness graduated to rolling hills at the edge of the Ohio Valley. He loved the beach best, but he loved the mountains, too. They were too much a part of his childhood for him to feel anything less.

“Want a piece?” he asked Max, offering the dog a section of the beef jerky he had bought at the last gas station. Max snarfed it down appreciatively and begged for more. “I know, buddy. Road food is great. Kind of disgusting, but great.”

The hills turned taller and greener as he moved ever deeper into the heart of West Virginia. He missed the best ones, however. By the time he reached his destination, it was too dark to see the low mountains that ringed Canaan Valley.

Perhaps that was just as well, he thought as he checked into the same resort he and Elena had used as a bolt hole. They’d spent so many getaway weekends here during their brief marriage that Michael should really have just bought a condo or something.

Even the air smelled familiar. This wasn’t going to be easy.

“Oh, God,” he prayed, overwhelmed by the truth of that thought as soon as he opened the door to the cabin. It was “their” cabin and, in spite of the pricey nature of the resort, it had changed little since the last time they’d been here, just a couple months before Elena’s death.

Michael looked around at the small kitchen where a healthier Elena had happily bustled around and at the living room where they’d played board games and snuggled through movies during winter visits. Now, he was here alone. And Max, who hadn’t even been born then, was exploring it all. Michael wondered if the dog could smell those past visits.

He looked through the door at the bedroom he’d shared with his wife and drew back. No way. He would be sleeping on the couch. He threw his duffel onto the floor next to it and sat down. Maybe coming here wasn’t the great idea he’d thought it would be when he was safely back in Indiana.

Hours later, he was still awake. The couch wasn’t comfortable. It was about a foot too short for his body for one thing. But, it wasn’t that. It was the memories. Elena’s laughter, her touch, the way she had rested in his arms on that last visit, content to just absorb the warmth of his body. He had actually been able to feel her slipping away from him during that visit and it had crushed his spirit.

It still did, he realized as the tears finally came. They were the tears that wouldn’t come the day she died, tied to the indignity of all those stupid tubes and beeping machines. They were the tears that wouldn’t come the day of her funeral or on any of the soul-numbing days that followed. He had wanted them to. He had needed them to. But, they just wouldn’t. Now – in this place – they came. He cried for Elena. He cried for the man he was when she was still with him. He finally fell asleep, utterly emptied by his grief.

*****

Michael awoke with a dog snout in his face.

“You need to go out?”

“Duh!” Max talked back with a full body shake.

Michael got up with a groan – his back was clearly not happy about the whole couch thing — and let the dog bullet out the front door. There wasn’t another cabin in sight, just smooth, spectacular valley and its mountain crown. No wonder tourism bureau types called West Virginia “almost heaven.” Who wouldn’t love this place?

He dug into the coffee supply that the resort had provided and began brewing an entire pot. He suspected he would need it, although he felt unusually light and energetic at the moment. The heaviness that had overtaken him the night before was no longer there and it didn’t come back during a quick breakfast of bagels and cream cheese or during a long hike with Max through the woods that ran between the back of the cabin and the nearest mountain.

By early afternoon, he was famished. He and Max drove out to the main road and looked for the sprawling pizza place that, if he remembered correctly, stood in what seemed like the middle of nowhere. Ah. It was still there.

In the winter, the place was full of skiers, clomping all over the rough wood floors in their snowy boots, their poles and skis propped against every wall. Today, there were only a handful of other customers – a few middle-aged couples and two young parents who were debating the wisdom of putting their smallest daughter on a trail horse for the first time.

Michael downed most of a pizza, a salad and a tall iced tea. Horseback riding sounded pretty good actually.

The rental stable wasn’t hard to find. He’d been there many times with Elena, who loved horses. Max settled in with the bridle shop dogs on the wide porch and promptly began sleeping off his hike and his own pizza lunch. He didn’t seem to mind at all that Michael had forgotten to pack kibble. Michael grabbed a trail map and mounted his assigned horse, a large but geriatric gelding named Ajax.

“How beautiful,” he whispered in compliment to God a few minutes later. Canaan Valley really was amazing. At his feet, an insane number of coppery butterflies floated among the deep purple and golden wildflowers of late summer. The trail wound through the open meadow, dipping now and then into sun-dappled woodland as he and good old Ajax headed up hill.

After an hour of riding, they reached a small clearing of thick grass that appeared to have been mowed, although that didn’t seem possible given its location. However it got so neatly cropped, it called to the little boy in Michael, who swung off the horse and lay on his back, his hands behind his head. He watched the clouds as Ajax contentedly munched the grass near the tree where he was now tied. Ajax was an old horse. He had no plans for anything more adventurous – a good thing, as Michael spent the next hour or two drifting in and out of sleep.

He dreamed of Elena. He dreamed of Maggie.

“I love you,” he murmured in the last moments before he woke. It wasn’t Elena’s face he’d seen before he spoke, he realized, and he felt somewhat ashamed.

*****

Michael sat on the cabin’s porch swing and ripped open the padded envelop his mother had sent him. Had it been a couple of months ago already? He wasn’t sure. The ring box tumbled into his hand and he snapped open the lid. The ring was as beautiful as he remembered. The green of the emerald flashed in the evening sun and he was instantly reminded of Maggie’s eyes.

His mother’s note was brief: Michael, nothing would make me happier than to see you happy again. If this girl is what will get you there, I hope you go for it. Love, Mom

Michael slowly let out his breath and brought out the other ring box he had carried along. He knew this one better, having picked it out himself and seen it every day of his marriage. The large round diamond. The platinum band. Elena was buried with her wedding ring, but he had asked the funeral director to remove her engagement ring at the last minute. He wasn’t sure why, even now.

The rings sat in his hand side by side. The woman he once loved. The woman he loved now.

“God, I could really use some help here,” he sighed, replacing the rings and snapping both of the lids shut. He stared off into the purple-blue dusk that was settling over the mountains.

Later, when the sky was as black as Michael could ever imagine black could be, he went back inside and put the rings back into the safety of his duffle. He looked at the couch and his back cried out in instant protest. He was too old for this kind of dramatic gesture, he decided and tentatively stretched out on the bed instead. It was OK — surprisingly OK — he marveled before dropping off to sleep like a rock.

*****

By the end of the week, there wasn’t a trail Michael and Max hadn’t walked. There wasn’t a pizza slice they hadn’t tried. They might actually be sick if they had any more of the latter. Michael knew it was time to go home, with maybe a few stops for burgers or a steak or even broccoli on the way.

There was something he needed to do first, however. Michael dug through his duffle until he found the box that contained Elena’s ring and pushed it deep into the pocket of his cargo pants. Alone this time, he walked at least a half mile to where the river that had formed the valley flowed.

“Elena,” he said solemnly as he stood on the bank. “You were a wonderful wife and I am thankful for that. I loved you the best way I knew how and a part of me will always love you. But, you’re gone and I have to say good-bye.”

Michael took her ring out of the box, pressed it briefly to his lips and tossed it far into the river. It landed where the ripples surged into white waves and Michael silently thanked God for leading him to do the right thing in the right place. Saying good-bye was right. He could already feel the first tinge of freedom.

He walked back to the cabin with a lightness to his step that he hadn’t felt in years. They would leave in the morning.

Chapter 39

“I’ve never ridden on the South Shore,” Maggie said suddenly, enjoying the surrealism of the dunes and woods rushing away from her as she had chosen to make the short ride into the city in the “backwards” seat. Hannah’s suggestion that they spend the day together was already proving to be a good one. Anything was better than sitting around wondering what Michael was up to.

“Really?” Hannah asked.

“Yeah. I had only been to Duneland County once before I came to stay. To meet with the minister. We came in a limo of all things.” Stephen must not know how to drive. How did I not know that?

Hannah ignored Maggie’s comment on the earlier visit. “Where do you want to go first?”

“Fannie May,” Maggie said immediately. Who wouldn’t want to start a day in Chicago with a visit to the ubiquitous chocolate maker?

“OK,” Hannah laughed. “Dark-chocolate turtles?”

“That sounds like a good start. We can go to a shop in the Loop.”

The quiet of the chocolate shop was welcome after even the brief walk from the Randolph Street Station to the heart of the city. Maggie had only been gone a summer, but the combination of traffic, the elevated train that gave the Loop its name and the ever-present sound of construction and destruction was both overwhelming and over-stimulating. She already needed a break. How did I ever live here, sleep here?

“Was it always this loud?” Maggie asked before sinking her teeth into her favorite candy in the world. She had two boxes of the same tucked into her shopping bag, one for Michael and one for Miss Naomi. The Fannie May branches that had filtered into Northwest Indiana just didn’t taste the same. Or, maybe, it was just the lack of urban ambience.

“Yes,” Hannah smiled. “But, I know what you mean. It’s kind of jarring when you’re not used to it anymore. What do you want to do today? I want to hit Powell’s at some point, but that’s all I really care about. This is your first time back. You pick.”

Maggie quickly agreed to a visit to the rambling book store. When she gave it more thought, she was surprised at what else she wanted to do. “I want to visit my TV station and stop somewhere for a really good pizza. Maybe a quick run through Marshall Field’s, too?”

“Sounds like a plan to me.”

They decided to do the fun stuff first, except for Powell’s. “We don’t want to have to haul a bag of books all over the city,” Maggie said. How strange to have no where to put my stuff. No apartment to taxi to. No house. No office. No home here at all. Home is somewhere else.

Marshall Field’s and all of State Street were as beautiful as ever, but Maggie wasn’t tempted with anything save a box of Frango mints. Michael might not know about this particular Chicago delicacy yet. She wondered if she’d head back to the train with nothing but chocolate at the end of the day. Not that that would be a bad thing.

“Are you hungry?” Hannah asked.

Maggie just laughed.

“Right! Forgot who I was talking to there for a moment. Which one? Uno’s, Due’s or Geno’s?”

“Geno’s!”

They took a taxi, passing right by the TV station as they went. Maggie’s stomach did a funny flip. She wasn’t sure if it was excitement or dread, but decided not to examine her feelings too closely when pizza was imminent.

Ah, deep-dish pizza, bits of cornmeal dusting her plate and her fingers. “Does food get any better than this?” Maggie asked an hour later.

“No,” was Hannah’s definitive answer.

*****

“Do you really want to do this?” Hannah asked.

“No. But, I never got a chance to clear out my desk and there are a few things that I want – if they’ll actually let me in the building.”

They did, to Maggie’s surprise. Her name and the ID badge she still carried in her purse were enough to not only get them into the sky scraper that housed her TV station, but onto the elevator and all the way to the 23^rd floor without challenge. Bob Carson, her boss or former boss or whatever he was, was waiting outside the elevator doors, however. Someone must have called up.

“Mags, it’s been a long time,” Bob said, moving forward quickly to both give her an awkward hug and, as Maggie suspected his real intention was, to block the newsroom from view. “But, I believe you not being here is something we’ve already talked about.” Bob was now looking at the floor, almost in shame. Whatever Stephen had done, he had obviously done it very effectively.

“Don’t worry, Bob. I’m not planning on staying. I was just in town with my friend Hannah and I thought I’d pick up my stuff.”

Bob waffled a bit.

“Is my stuff still here?”

“No,” he said slowly.

Maggie sighed. “Do I want to know?”

“Probably not. I need your ID, by the way.”

Maggie handed the card over and she and Bob exchanged another awkward hug, one that she knew was good-bye. She was careful to keep her hands away from his neck lest she be tempted to squeeze. The two women headed back down the elevator and Maggie knew she would never set foot in the newsroom again.

Well. That was that.

“Are you OK?” Hannah asked as they reached street level.

“Yes. Yes, I am,” Maggie answered. And, surprisingly, that was the absolute truth. She was done here, so very done, that she honestly enjoyed their last stop, Powell’s.

Maggie was deep into the stacks of vintage mysteries when she stumbled, literally, across the youngest of her brothers, Ian, of all people.

“I’m playing hooky,” he explained sheepishly as he rose from the rolling stool where he’d been sitting and reading to give her one of the characteristic bear hugs she had missed. He worked as a mid-level administrator at the nearby Art Institute. “There’s a new exhibit of cut crystal from Eastern Europe coming in and I’ve practically been sleeping in the office. I needed a break.”

Only 27, Ian surprisingly looked like he needed a break. Of course, having three children under the age of four at home wasn’t exactly restful either. He might be getting more sleep at the office than at home, Maggie suspected.

“Poor Melissa,” Maggie said before she could help herself.

Ian grinned. “We hired a nanny. A very British, very grandmotherly nanny. She’s so efficient, I’d like to take her to work with me. Melissa would kill me, though.”

“I wouldn’t blame her.”

“I’ve missed you, Maggie,” Ian said suddenly. “We all have. Is it really true you’re not coming home?”

“I have a new home now. And, the trains travel east, as well as west.”

“You really like this Michael Alton, don’t you?”

“I love him.”

“I’m glad.” Ian kissed her quickly on the cheek, then pulled out his phone to check on the five texts that had come in during the short time they’d been speaking. “Ah. They know where I am. I think they’re using my phone as a tracking device.”

Maggie laughed. “I’ll see you, Ian.” And, she knew she would.

*****

“Well, what did you think about being back in the city? Are you still happy that Waverly Shores is home?” Hannah’s question sounded calm, but Maggie could see a hint of anxiety on her friend’s face. She suddenly wondered if mild-mannered Hannah had had a bit of an agenda in bringing her here.

“Yes.”

“What about your job here?”

“I never really liked it anyway. I’d rather make pillows.” Maggie had to laugh out loud at the truthfulness of her last statement. Pillows. Who knew?

“What about your family?”

“I still have my family and they still have me. The people I love are just in more than one place now.”

“And, I bet you’d like to know where one of those people is right about now,” Hannah said with a soft laugh.

“Yeah, I would. But, it’s OK that I don’t. I know he’s coming home.” To his home. To my home. To me. Maggie relaxed in her “backwards” train seat and watched Chicago whoosh away from her this time. And, she didn’t mind at all.

Chapter 40

“Red?”

Maggie was amazed to hear her father’s voice on the other side of her cottage door, where he stood knocking. She was even more astonished when she opened it to find both her mother and father standing there.

The fact it was 8 a.m. and that she was still in her PJs did nothing to help ground her.

But, the most astounding thing was still to happen. No sooner had she ushered them into the cottage than had Kat rushed to hug her daughter, PJs and all. Maggie could feel her mother’s tears seep into her cotton top and pulled away in alarm.

 “What happened?” she quickly asked her dad, her darkest fears rising to the surface.

“Nothing’s wrong, Red,” Sean reassured her. He looked down. “Well, except for us. We were wrong.”

“What do you mean?”

“We didn’t know, baby,” Kat said, her voice quavering. “We had no idea Stephen could be that way — the way he was at the party. We wanted the McCutcheon connection, but not so badly that we’re willing to sacrifice our daughter to get it.”

“We really thought it was as good a match for you as it was for us,” Sean said, taking up the baton. “But, we’ve talked to Ronan and Ian, too, and they helped us realize we were wrong. I’m sorry it took us this long to admit it. We were even wrong about the baby. Stephen told us that was true after you left. His son was born a couple of weeks ago, in fact.”

Maggie stared at her parents, whom she never remembered admitting to any wrongdoing of any sort. Ever.

“We came to apologize and tell you that you have our blessing,” Sean said. “If you want to live at the beach, we’re not going to try to stop you. And, if you want this Michael Alton, we’re not going to interfere with that, either.”

“Is that what you want, Maggie?” Kat asked.

“Yes,” Maggie said without hesitation, answering the next question she could feel forming in her parents’ mouths. “I know the timing’s bad, but I love him more than I could have ever imagined was possible.”

Kat smiled, tears forming again in her eyes. “That’s what I thought,” she said.

“Does he love you?” Sean asked, although he suspected he already knew the answer based on what he’d seen at the party.

“I think so.”

“Then give him my number when the time is right,” Sean said. “I’d like to talk to this young man.”

*****

Maggie held Stephen’s ring in her hand. She had considered giving it to her parents when they left after a wonderful breakfast together. They could have given it to Ronan to pass on to Stephen. But, that didn’t even come close to feeling right. She was a grown-up woman and needed to deal with this final piece of break-up business on her own.

So, she did the best she could. She sewed the ring to a small piece of cushioning so that it couldn’t move inside its small box and packed it into a much larger box for overnight shipping.

Her note was brief: Stephen, I wanted to return your ring as I know your family values it. I’m sorry things turned out so badly between us, but I want you to know I hold nothing against you. I will pray for God’s best for you, Rosa and your son. I have found peace and forgiveness and hope that you will, too. Maggie

It was a relief to insure the thing like crazy and watch the postal worker place the box in a battered canvas bin. It was so very, very over.

Chapter 41

Still bristling with joyful energy late into the evening, Maggie decided tonight was the night she would tackle the vintage lace. It took her about an hour to untangle it and figure out which pieces she wanted to leave as is and which she wanted to restore to their original white.

Leaving the beautifully aged pieces draped across her bed, she filled her unusually large bathroom sink with water and oxygen-based bleach and left the lace that needed help to look its best to soak until morning.

“It worked,” Maggie squealed some eight hours later. Even before she rinsed the pieces, she could already tell the lace was now a soft ivory.

There was a problem, however. She had noticed the sink had been draining slowly for several days. Now, it wouldn’t drain at all, no matter how many times she wiggled the stopper up and down. Michael had mentioned something about needing to work on the plumbing a couple of weeks ago now that she thought about it.

Maggie loaded the sodden lace into a large mixing bowl – there was a lot of it — and rinsed the pieces out well in the bathtub before laying them across plastic hangers so they would dry without rusting. Then, she bailed the soaking water out of the sink with a small pan. After that, she was stumped. She didn’t want to do anything else without asking Michael, since this was his property, but she didn’t want to call him, either. Whatever he was doing, it didn’t seem like he wanted her to be a part of it.

“I guess it will just have to wait,” she said, taping a note to the tap so she wouldn’t accidentally use the sink in the meantime.

*****

Surrounded by piles of pillows she had made for The Station Shoppe in the last few days, Maggie had an idea for a wedding present for Jo-Jo and David. The reception was less than a week away now.

She took handfuls of the restored lace, now dried, and placed them in neat rows to see how they looked.

“Beautiful,” she whispered. She really did need to get a cat or something. This talking to herself was getting weird.

After searching for Internet images of peacocks, Maggie used her sewing machine to form a mix of muslin and stark-white eyelet into the shape of a large, slender bird with closed wings. Then, she began hand sewing on row after row of lace — some of it white, some of it antiqued – until it resembled the dramatic drape of feathers for which the bird was so well known. Thread and beads were quickly sculpted into place to add facial features, as well.

Maggie perched her creation on a top corner of her own couch, letting the tail spill over its edge. She knew Jo-Jo would love it. It could fit in with almost any décor, yet there was just enough “bridal” about it that her friend would never forget what the gift honored.

“I need to show this to Hannah,” Maggie said aloud again. She headed off to her friend’s shop with the bird in tow.

Hannah was impressed.

“Maggie, this is really crossing into the fine-arts arena,” she said. “You could sell this at a lot of places. It’s really that good.”

Maggie was thrilled.

“This one’s definitely for Jo-Jo and David,” she said. “But, I have several ideas for other animals. My Grammy Kate used to make things sort of like this. It’s really a lot of fun.”

“Well, if you make them, I will sell them. I’m sure Michael would, too,” Hannah said. “Speaking of Michael, Miss Naomi asked me to get something for you and it arrived today.”

“What would Miss Naomi want to get for me?” Maggie asked.

“Well, it’s a little unusual. But, I have a feeling you’ll like it.” Hannah grinned and motioned for Maggie to follow her into the clothing section of her shop. She led her into the dressing room before disappearing behind a storeroom curtain. “Wait here.”

Maggie’s eyes went wide when Hannah returned.

“A wedding dress? Miss Naomi bought me a wedding dress!”

“Yep.”

Maggie tentatively touched the dress Hannah still held. It was ivory cotton eyelet, long sleeved, boat necked and had a tea-length handkerchief hemline that was unusual for a wedding dress. It was vaguely Stevie Nicks, in fact.

“It’s vintage 1970s, but it’s couture and it’s in perfect condition,” Hannah said, hanging the dress on a hook next to Maggie and closing the fitting-room curtain behind herself. “Try it on. Miss Naomi said she wanted something that looked right for a Dune Girl.”

Maggie looked at the dress in wonder. It was beautiful. But, a wedding dress? No way. Yet, the dress practically sang to Maggie. She reluctantly tried it on, embarrassed to be doing so — and was amazed. The color was perfect against her skin and hair. The fit was perfect. The style was perfect. It seemed the dress had been made expressly for her. Maggie swished open the curtain and smiled when she heard Hannah’s confirmation of that opinion.

Maggie twirled in the dress, looking at it from every angle. It was a weird gift, true. But, she’d be lying if she didn’t admit she loved it.

*****

Maggie’s phone buzzed her awake with a text from Michael at 6 a.m. What was it with his family? When did they ever sleep? She wouldn’t have read it if it had been from anyone else.

Michael: Are you awake?

Maggie: No. But, I forgive you. Maybe.

Michael: I’m heading home now. Maybe the bag of pepperoni rolls I have for you will help.

Pepperoni rolls? They must be food. Maggie texted the first thought that came to her very sleepy brain.

Maggie: Mmmmmm.

There was a long pause and Maggie began to drift back into sleep, the phone still in her hand. It buzzed again.

Michael: Is that response for me or for the food?

What response? Oh! Maggie was glad Michael couldn’t see her face. She could almost hear him laughing, but decided to go for bold.

Maggie: Both.

There wasn’t any pause this time.

Michael: That’s what I hoped you’d say. See you tonight, Dune Girl.

Maggie put her phone back on the table next to her bed and thought instantly of the beautiful dress hanging in her closet. She blushed again. What had Miss Naomi been thinking?

Chapter 42

Michael was still smiling as he loaded the last of his luggage into the car and got Max ready to go. He checked the time. It was still plenty early. He decided to call David now instead of later in the day as he’d originally planned. He suspected his friend would already be working at this hour of a weekday, particularly after being out of the office for so long. So would Jo-Jo.

“Good morning, my brother-in-law!” David boomed into Michael’s ear.

“Yeah, about that,” Michael said with more than a trace of touchy in his voice. “Paris? This is what happens after one week of your so-called courting?”

“Well…”

“That seems like a pretty pricey way to see very little of a city,” Michael continued, abruptly changing his tone to pure humor.

It took a second, but David laughed. Good. Michael wanted him to know he wasn’t angry.

“So it was,” David said in a relieved tone. “We’ll have to go back again.”

Michael paused. He was surprisingly happy David and Jo-Jo were married now that they were married, but that wasn’t what he really wanted to talk about. He needed his friend’s input.

“David, I’m at Canaan Valley.”

Now, it was David who paused. “May I ask why?”

“You were right. About everything. I needed to say good-bye to Elena and this was the only place I could think of that would let me do it.”

“Did it work?”

“I think so,” Michael said. “I’ve been here a week. I’ve thought about it, prayed about it. Last night, I threw her engagement ring into the river. She loved it here. It felt like the right place to let her go.”

“In the river?” David whistled. He knew the ring. “That’s a pretty pricey way to say good-bye.”

“I’m thinking it was worth every penny.”

“I’m thinking this has a lot to do with a certain Miss Maggie Brady. Am I right?”

“Oh, yeah.”

Michael brought David up to speed on his decision to date Maggie — and his disastrous efforts to kiss her. There was no way he’d tell this to anyone else. He wondered if he should even have told David, given the way the guy was roaring with laughter by the time Michael was done.

“You are making this up, Alton. I can buy the Frisbee thing and the interfering guy thing. But, there is no way you were attacked by an eagle!”

“It wasn’t an eagle. It was an owl. And, that’s the gospel truth. Actually, I don’t think I could have made that up. I don’t have that good of an imagination.”

“So, you are basically telling me that God slapped you upside the head – not once, but twice – to get you to make a bigger commitment than dating.”

“That’s sure how it feels.”

“When you say ‘bigger commitment,’ are you talking marriage?” David asked incredulously.

“I’m not sure when I’m going to ask her, but, yes. I already have the ring.”

“Wow!”

Michael swung himself behind the wheel and put on his sunglasses. He needed to get going if he was going to be home in time to drop by Maggie’s cottage.

“David? Just pray for me, OK? This has been a hard week, a really hard week. I’m free, but I want to make sure I don’t somehow get in God’s way and mess this up.”

“You really love this woman, don’t you?”

“With everything I’ve got.”

“Then, I’ll be praying. Can I tell Jo-Jo?”

Michael realized his days of private conversations with both his friend and his sister had come to an end. That was OK. He hoped Maggie would soon be an even better confidante. “She’s your wife — of course. Just tell her to stay out of my business.”

“Good luck with that, Alton,” David laughed. “We’ll see you in a couple of days. I can’t wait to meet the woman who’s managed to get you this tied up in a knot. She must be something else.”

“She is.” And, then some. Michael smiled.

*****

There was a one-word text waiting when Michael stopped for gas in Morgantown. It was from Jo-Jo, of course.

“Wheeeeeee!!!!!!!!!”

Michael rolled his eyes. Let the games begin. He drove back onto I-79 and headed ever northward.

Chapter 43

It was after nine p.m. when Michael finally pulled up to the cottage. Maggie had turned on every light to welcome him.

She opened the door before he got out of the car, but stood shyly in the frame until he opened his arms to her. Then, she practically ran into them, snuggling her face against his chest underneath the light jacket he’d put on against the evening chill.

“You smell like Christmas trees,” she said, sighing as he pulled her even closer and kissed the top of her head.

“That’s probably better than pepperoni rolls,” Michael laughed.

“What is a pepperoni roll, anyway?” she asked, stepping back to check out the bag that had somehow inserted itself between them.

“It’s kind of like a calzone or a rolled-up pizza,” Michael explained, telling her of the Italian miners’ wives in West Virginia who had invented the treat as a way to make their husbands a tasty lunch that wouldn’t spoil.

West Virginia? He could see the question on Maggie’s face. But, she didn’t ask and he didn’t tell.

“Would you and Max like to join me?” Maggie asked, already heading back into the cottage with her hands wrapped around her bare arms. Michael saw her slight shiver and dropped the warmth of his jacket around her shoulders before they made it inside.

“Mmm. Thanks,” she said, pulling it tightly around her.

“You need to get some sweaters or something soon,” he said. “At the beach, the nights and mornings start getting cool at this time of year even though it’s still summer.”

“I’ll have to see what Hannah has.”

As Maggie heated the rolls up in the oven, she came over to inspect where the stitches had been removed and Michael’s hair had already grown enough so that the bare patches were barely noticeable. “I see you’re back to your handsome self.”

She moved away when the oven timer dinged, then brought the warm rolls to the table. Max snarfed down three before either of them had gotten beyond a first bite.

“Well, someone likes them,” Michael said with an eye roll.

“Make that two someones,” Maggie answered, giving him a literal thumbs up. She pulled out his two boxes of chocolate and they sampled those, as well.

“So,” Michael asked, resting his chin in his hand, and watching her with pure delight. Wow, he’d missed her. “What have you been up to for the last week?”

Maggie shot out to the living room and returned with the peacock. He was impressed but not at all surprised that she could pull off something spectacular. “Jo-Jo will love it,” he said. “I can’t believe we’ll be down there in just two days.”

She told him about the sink.

“I can fix it tomorrow afternoon.”

She told him of her parents’ visit – the apology part, not the part about him. He was frankly amazed. He hadn’t seen this side of the Brady family so far – unless he counted her brother Ronan’s serendipitous punch and the follow-up phone call from him Maggie had told him about. But, he was relieved to know how things now stood.

“That’s really wonderful,” he said.

Maggie hesitated and Michael instantly saw there was something more about the visit that she wasn’t sharing.

“And?”

“And, my dad would like to talk to you,” she said nervously. “I’m not sure what he wants.”

Michael was pretty sure he knew what Sean Brady wanted, but didn’t comment. Dads. They were all the same. He dutifully punched Sean’s number into his own phone, knowing full well this conversation wasn’t going to happen any way but in person.

“Well, Dune Girl, you’ve had quite a week,” he said, kissing her on the temple as he rose from the table. “I’ll tell you about mine later. But, right now, I really need some sleep.”

He stopped in the doorway, turned around and bent to give a lingering kiss to her left hand. He kissed the exact spot where he hoped to soon see his ring and rose up to look even more lingeringly into her eyes. Soon. But, not quite yet. I need to talk to her dad first.

Maggie blushed yet again – good grief, he couldn’t get enough of that — and Michael suspected she had correctly interpreted his gesture. She was still wearing his jacket. He smiled, wondering if that meant they were going steady, like two high schoolers.

He’d call Sean first thing in the morning.

“Good night, Miss Maggie,” tugging her to him by his own jacket lapels and kissing the tip of her nose. He’d waited this long for a real kiss. He’d wait until she was wearing his ring.

“Good night, Michael.”

Chapter 44

“Actually, I don’t do much of this kind of work myself,” Michael admitted, his voice somewhat muffled given that most of his upper body was under Maggie’s bathroom sink. “I have a property manager, but it’s good to keep in practice.”

His head popped out to look at her. “Now, go away,” he said with a smile. “I know what I’m doing, but not well enough to do it and be nice at the same time.”

Maggie dutifully went to the kitchen, opting to make a large salad out of canned salmon, pasta and loads of fresh vegetables and herbs she’d picked up at the farmers market. She stashed that in the refrigerator then checked her freezer. Strawberry ice cream. Perfect, considering the hot day it had turned out to be.

“Michael, I’m going to go sit on the beach for a while,” she yelled in to him when she was done.

She heard a rather testy “Fine.” followed by several hard clanks of metal on metal coming from the bathroom. She picked up her pace. It was definitely a good idea to be somewhere else right now.

The beach sand was hot on Maggie’s bare feet. She sat down under the lacy shade of a cottonwood tree and tried to read a mystery she’d picked up from the tiny branch library down the street.

The wild surf was too distracting, however. There were plenty of people on the beach enjoying it. She watched a neighbor lady from down the road playing with her tween daughters. The mom stood at the edge of the waves, her skirt tail whipping in the breeze. She was holding a straw hat firmly on her head. The girls stood waist deep in the water in their bathing suits, their backs daring the waves. A big one took up their challenge, lifting them both in its swell, nearly carrying them onto the shore.

The lifeguard the neighborhood employed was even more all-business than usual. He was off his chair and standing on the sand, as well, his whistle in his mouth and a float with a long, red rope dangling from it held tightly in his hands.

Out on the lake, still more beach goers rushed by on a catamaran. Maggie wondered if that would be as fun as sailing. She didn’t quite like the idea of having so little “boat” between her and the water, but she’d be willing to give it a try. Maybe Michael would like to do something like that before the warm weather was gone.

“Everything’s working again.” Michael’s voice from behind her, scattering such thoughts.

Maggie turned, lifting her hat brim so she could smile up at him. “Thank you. Are you nice again, too?” 

Michael laughed and sat down beside her. “For the most part. It takes a while for me to fully recover from plumbing, though.”

They had dinner inside the cottage, all the windows open to the breeze, and then walked the beach as the sun sank into the waves. Maggie could see Chicago clearly at that moment. It was a sharp grey-brown against the fading red of the sunset.

“Do you miss the city?” Michael asked.

“Some things. But, it’s easy enough to get to if I want to go to a museum or get a pizza or something. I’d rather be here.”

“Here is good,” Michael said, turning her toward home.

*****

Michael was too old to feel this awkward with a girlfriend’s father. He was too old to have a “girlfriend,” for that matter. Was Maggie his “lady friend,” his “woman friend?” Whatever she was, he couldn’t help swallowing nervously as he rang the doorbell of the Brady home. Maybe he should have suggested meeting on neutral ground. It’s not like his previous visit here had gone particularly well.

Sean Brady answered the door himself, a trio of barking dogs at his feet. There was a golden, a corgi and another small breed Michael didn’t recognize. Maggie hadn’t been kidding about the Bradys and their love of dogs.

“Michael! Good to see you, son.”

Son? Now, there was a loaded word if Michael had ever heard one. He swallowed again. They went into a large study lined with overloaded bookcases. Michael took the chair Sean offered, but decided to begin the conversation on his own terms.

“Mr. Brady … ”

“You can call me Sean.”

Stick to the point, Alton. “OK. Sean, I want you to know that I love your daughter very much and I hope to marry her. Soon.”

“Good,” Sean said without hesitation.

Michael’s eyebrows went up. Good? OK. He hadn’t been expecting that.

“It’s the Internet, son,” Sean said, waving away Michael’s surprise. “I’ve learned pretty much everything I need to know about you already and I’m satisfied that you are a decent man and can take good care of Maggie. I just wanted to hear it from you personally that you love her.”

“I do.”

“Well, then, you have my blessing and her mother’s blessing. You also have our apology, son. I know our family made a lousy first impression on you. We thought Maggie was just being difficult. We didn’t understand everything that was going on with Stephen and, boy, we were really wrong.”

Shut up now, Michael warned himself. Do not comment on the “wrong” part. Don’t do it.

“Thank you on both counts,” he decided it was safe to say.

“I just have one question,” Sean continued, already rising from his seat and heading for the study door. His audience was obviously over. “How did you two meet so quickly?”

Michael’s eyebrows rose again. “Maggie never told you?” he asked warily.

“No.”

“Well, it was the day of the wedding. You probably don’t remember it, but you and I – and Stephen for that matter — actually saw each other then, too. Maggie ran into my workshop when she … uh, left the church. I hid her behind some furniture.”

Realization dawned on Sean’s face. He smiled. “That was you?”

Relief rose in Michael’s heart. “Yes, sir.”

Sean laughed loudly and slapped Michael on the back. “So you had drama on your side from the get go.”

“Yes, sir.” God, too.

Michael headed for the highway — relieved to be leaving without any wounds, visible or otherwise. He prayed he would never have to have this particular conversation again. Well, unless he was the one doing the whole dad thing. Now that was something to think about. And, he did, smiling all the way home.

Chapter 45

“Thank you for the dress,” Maggie whispered in Miss Naomi’s ear. They were standing at O’Hare International Airport, waiting for Michael to convince the TSA guys there wasn’t a bomb in their luggage. Not that there wasn’t plenty of room for one. They seemed to have way more bags than they should have given the fact they were only going to be in Raleigh less than three days.

“I’m glad you like it,” Miss Naomi said. “It seemed to suit you perfectly.”

“It does.” Maggie laughed nervously, glancing Michael’s way to make sure there was no chance he could overhear their conversation. “Not that I actually need it.”

Miss Naomi looked at Maggie pointedly before fishing into the voluminous cotton bag she carried over one shoulder. She pulled out a crochet hook and a ball of fuzzy, pale blue yarn. “Of course you do. God’s not nearly done yet. Neither am I.”

Before Maggie could ask her older friend just what that comment meant, Michael was back at their side and shepherding them toward the right terminal. Maybe it was only because she was a former mayor’s daughter, but Maggie absolutely loved flying in and out of O’Hare. So big, so busy. And, the food! Maybe we have time to get a Chicago dog!

Michael stared at her for a moment when she suggested a food break out loud. It was 9 a.m. Then, he laughed. “Sure. We can’t let you get hungry between here and Raleigh now, can we?”

She flicked him on the arm, but grabbed Miss Naomi’s hand and made a bee line for the place she knew made the best of this genre of food before he could retaliate or change his mind. He had already mentioned their looming departure time more than once.

“This isn’t bad,” Michael said, crunching into one of the sport peppers that topped the vegetable-laden hot dog. “But, what’s the deal with the relish? It looks like neon.”

Maggie and Miss Naomi looked at him in amazement.

“Michael Alton! You’ve lived here for five years and you haven’t had a Chicago dog?” Maggie exclaimed as soon as she finished chewing. “Please don’t tell me you haven’t had Geno’s East deep-dish pizza, either.”        

“Guilty.”

Maggie and Miss Naomi exchanged a conspiratorial grin.

“Well, this is something we need to fix as soon as we get home,” Maggie said. She liked the sounds of the words “we” and “home” as soon as she said them.

****

“And, this is where I went to elementary school,” Michael told Maggie, pointing to a low, brick building surrounded by grassy fields. She could see a bit of the school’s playground, just enough to see children thoroughly enjoying themselves in the late summer sun.

She gave his hand, which held hers across the well between the seats of their rental car, a quick squeeze. It made her happy to think of little boy Michael racing down slides and swinging until his feet were touching the sky.

He continued the tour as they drove on, pointing out homes of friends, the field where he played Little League baseball and what used to be the store where he once bought a giant box of candy hearts with the little messages on them for a sixth-grade crush. Maggie laughed at that last one. How sweet.

“And, here’s our home,” Michael said, finally pulling into a circular driveway in front of an elegant brick colonial. The “mansion” in Alton Mansion wasn’t an exaggeration, Maggie decided quickly. It wasn’t ostentatious in any way, but it was very grand. Michael’s decision to live a simple life had been a big one.

“It’s lovely,” Maggie said, her voice betraying her rising tide of nervousness at meeting his family. This time, Michael squeezed her fingers.

“You’ll be fine,” he whispered in her ear as he leaned across her to open her door.

“I grew up here, too,” Miss Naomi said, already exiting the back seat in girlish excitement. “It’s a wonderful place. So full of memories.”

Michael hauled their luggage out of the trunk while Miss Naomi pointed out this feature and that about the house’s exterior. Before they could get to the door, however, Helen Alton burst from the home, her arms open to each of them in turn. She started with Maggie.

“I’m so delighted you’ll be staying here, Maggie,” she said, nearly crushing her in a hug. Helen was clearly the original and Jo-Jo was a high-quality copy. They looked nearly identical, except for age and the fact Helen’s hair was cropped in a short bob and was light red instead of chestnut brown like Jo-Jo’s.

“Thank you for having me, Mrs. Alton.”

“No Mrs. Alton! Helen is fine.”

Helen, who was so effervescent Maggie suspected she was born laughing, led the party into the house and instructed Michael as to who was going into which room. He dutifully hauled all their cases up the wide stairs, mouthing “good luck” to Maggie when the older women’s backs were turned for a moment.

Maggie smiled at him, took a deep breath and followed Helen’s stream of chatter onto a back porch filled with vintage wicker and a real porch swing. She was delighted, even more so when she discovered their hostess had set out an array of sandwiches, a fruit salad and pitchers of both iced tea and hand-squeezed lemonade.

“Now, that should make you happy,” Michael whispered in Maggie’s ear, causing her to turn to look up into his face. She hadn’t realized he’d returned. They’d been apart all of seven or eight minutes. Yet, they smiled as if they hadn’t seen each other in weeks.

Neither noticed Helen look at Aunt Naomi with open astonishment or Aunt Naomi’s simple nod of response.

*****

“Aunt Naomi and Michael, I put you both in your old rooms,” Helen said after their late lunch, squeezing her aunt in another quick hug. “Maggie, you’re in the third room on the right. By later tonight, all the other rooms will be filled, too.” Maggie looked down the long hallway filled with doors. That would be a whole lot of Altons. She glanced nervously at Michael, who gave her a reassuring wink.

Her room was as lovely as the rest of the house — all pink and flowery. Maggie wondered if it had been Jo-Jo’s room at one time but decided against it. She couldn’t imagine Jo-Jo liking something so dainty, even in childhood.

Maggie unpacked the few things she had brought. She shook out the formal she had brought for tomorrow night’s reception and hung it up. Hannah had given it to her out of her own closet, insisting the dress’s deep green did more for Maggie’s hair and complexion than for her own. The fitted bodice and flared skirt of the vintage 1950s silk also were better suited to Maggie’s figure, according to Hannah, who was skeptical at this point of pregnancy that she herself would ever again fit into such an article of clothing.

“Maggie?” Michael called, knocking on the door to her room. “Would you like to go for a walk before everyone starts piling in?”

Maggie opened the door. “Just let me get some different sandals on.”

The pair, happy to simply be alone, did not see Helen and Aunt Naomi watching them walk, hand in hand, across the back of the property and onto the gravel side road that led off into the woods where Michael had once roamed. The woods where the dogwoods and sumac were already turning a flame-like red.

Nor did they hear it when Helen laughed and set the porch swing in motion with a quick kick. “Well. Jo-Jo really called this one.”

*****

David and Jo-Jo were already at the house when Michael and Maggie returned. Jo-Jo practically launched herself at the pair, sweeping both of them into a single embrace and a quick introduction of Maggie to her husband. David and Michael went through a hugging, back slapping type of thing and retreated to one end of the porch, already deep in conversation.

“You look so beachy,” Jo-Jo said, lifting a strand of Maggie’s hair to enthuse about the sunny highlights that now accented the red. “I’m so glad you could come.”

“You look so happy,” Maggie returned. And, Jo-Jo did. She was as lively as ever, but there was a calm contentment to her now that hadn’t been there before.

Jo-Jo glanced at her husband and smiled before she answered. “I am.”

Maggie and Jo-Jo eventually wandered off into the house in search of the former’s wedding gift. She wanted to give it to them now and was thrilled when Jo-Jo gushed over her creation.

“I know you’re selling pillows through Michael and Hannah,” Jo-Jo said. “But I would really like to get some more of these or something similar to sell though Lewis-Alton. David thinks we should develop a small line of upscale, artisan products – one-of-a-kind things. Let’s go show this to him.”

Jo-Jo picked up the peacock and sped straight to her husband.

“David, look what Maggie made!”

Chapter 46

Michael startled. It hadn’t been that long since Jo-Jo had made a similar exclamation to him about the first of Maggie’s pillows. He listened to his sister and brother-in-law excitedly discussing the fabric sculpture and what appeared to be David’s idea to launch a line of artisan products through Lewis-Alton Company.

That was the first he’d heard of it, Michael thought somewhat peevishly. He was particularly annoyed when he heard something about “Michael’s cabinets” being associated with the new plan.

But, as he kept on listening to and watching the exchange, his irritation faded. Jo-Jo was excited. That was nothing new. She had been excited about something or another for as long as he could remember. But, this time, her enthusiasm was tempered by a careful regarding of her husband’s opinions on the subject — to the point of actually deferring to him on a couple of debated issues. Michael had never seen his sister defer to anyone.

He couldn’t help but smile. Jo-Jo Alton had finally met her match.

“What do you think, Michael?” David asked when he saw his friend’s sudden grin.

Michael had lost track of the specifics of the deal in question in his observations of Jo-Jo, but he had a ready answer.

“I think the family business is in good hands,” he said, looking David straight in the eye. “If you are interested in my cabinets, I’m willing to talk. I’m also willing to help Maggie negotiate a deal with Lewis-Alton if that’s what she wants.”

He slipped his arm around Maggie’s shoulders. “What do you think, Dune Girl?”

“I don’t know,” Maggie said warily. “Can we talk about it some more when we get home?”

“Sure,” Michael said, kissing the top of her head.

He glanced at David while his lips still lingered in Maggie’s curls and nearly laughed at his friend’s open-mouthed amazement. Michael had given him plenty of forewarning about how serious he was about this woman, but he could easily see that his being in love was still a surprise to David. Hey, it was a surprise to him. Nicknames and PDA! Michael couldn’t remember ever kissing any woman other than Elena in public, and that was at their wedding.

Jo-Jo and Maggie headed back into the house, chattering happily all the way.

David elbowed his friend in the side and didn’t miss the chance to mock Michael with his own words.

“Can you hear that, Alton?” he said. “That would be the sound of my eyes rolling.”

Michael just laughed.

*****

Maggie couldn’t sleep. She wasn’t sure if it was all the sweet tea she’d had at dinner or just the excitement of the day, but she needed something to read. She threw on a silky robe and tip-toed down to the family library, where she was surprised to find Helen. It was 1 a.m.

“Can’t sleep, either?” Helen asked, motioning for Maggie to sit down beside her on one of the deep leather couches that graced the casually furnished room.

“I thought I’d get something to read.”

“You came to the right place,” Helen laughed, popping off the couch nearly as soon as Maggie sat down. “My husband’s collection included a little bit of everything. Are you looking for fiction or non-fiction?”

“Just something light,” Maggie answered. “Not anything by John Grisham or I’ll be up all night turning to the next page.”

Helen laughed again and pulled down a Jan Karon novel. “Have you ever read any of the Father Tim books?”

Maggie hadn’t, but offered to give it a try. She wasn’t sure what to do when she had the book in her hand and Helen was seated beside her once more. “Do you want to see what she looked like?” Helen asked suddenly.

“Jan Karon?”

Helen raised her eyebrows at Maggie in a way that said, “Don’t pretend you don’t know what I’m talking about.”

“Yes,” Maggie admitted. Of course I do.

Helen was up again, picking one silver frame out of a cluster that stood on a table near the window and bringing it to Maggie. The picture showed a younger, tuxedoed Michael with a smile that didn’t quite reach his eyes and no hint of the wild, wavy hairstyle he now sported. With him, in an elegant ice-blue sheath dress, was Elena. She was tall, almost as tall as Michael in her heels. Very slim and very blonde. Her smile was happy but equally reserved.

Thank you, Jesus. Maggie let out a sigh of relief before she could contain it. She glanced nervously at Helen, only to find the woman smiling the same broad smile she had seen so often on Michael’s face.

“That’s right. She was nothing like you at all,” Helen said, returning the photo to the table and heading back upstairs with a magazine in her hand. “Don’t stay up too late.”

Maggie didn’t. Although she didn’t quite make it back to bed, either. Somewhere around the time Dooley showed up in Father Tim’s life, she fell asleep on the couch, her book slipping out of her fingers and onto the floor.

Chapter 47

That was how Michael found her the next morning, when he stopped in to return the book he’d been reading before he headed out for some exercise. “Good morning, Miss Maggie,” he said, bending over to wake her with a light, nuzzle to her ear.

A very surprised Maggie got up so quickly, frantically pulling the edges of her robe together as she rose, that they almost clunked heads. “Michael!”

“Don’t worry. You’re decent,” he said with a grin. “Tempting, but decent. I’ll see you at breakfast. I’m going for a run.”

A very pink Maggie mumbled something he didn’t quite get and dashed straight up to her room. He smiled all the way to the main road.

*****

They did see each other at breakfast – both of them now showered and dressed for the busy day ahead. But, there wasn’t a minute to talk. There were so many Altons in the house now it reminded Maggie of the bridesmaid scene from My Big, Fat Greek Wedding. She loved that movie.

Michael cut through the crowd to place a coffee mug in her hands and give her a gentle push toward the buffet caterers had set up in the dining room before he was swept off into the fray. She smiled, watching various Alton aunts, uncles and cousins and a few Parkers that Caldwell House couldn’t handle engage him in one conversation after another.

That pretty much summed up the day. His family had been wonderfully welcoming, but it was a relief to be in the solitude of her own room by the late afternoon. She rested a while on her bed, then got up to freshen her hair and make-up. That’s when she ran into a bit of a snag. When she slid the gown on over her head, she realized the bodice was too tightly fitted for her to work the zipper that ran from below her waist to the neck by herself. Hannah had done it for her when she had tried it on. Now, Maggie knew why.

She put the robe she had slept in over the dress and headed for Miss Naomi’s room. “Come in,” Miss Naomi called when she knocked. The older lady was already dressed in a pretty plum-colored gown and was sitting in a deep wing-back chair, deeply engrossed in her crochet work once again. What is she going to do with all that blue yarn?

Maggie laughed. “I’m having a problem with my zipper. Will you help me?”

Miss Naomi did, admiring the gown as Maggie stepped away from her.

“This reminds me of the types of dresses I wore when I was a young woman,” she said. “Girls today think the only way to catch a man’s eye is to show everything. I think something like this is actually much more effective. But, of course, you have the figure for it. A girl with no hips or bosom couldn’t really carry it off very well.”

“Where were you when the stylists at the TV station were always fussing at me?” Maggie laughed as she opened the door to go back to her own room for some finishing touches. “They were always complaining that I had too much everywhere to look right on the air.”

“I don’t suppose Michael is complaining,” Miss Naomi said, looking past Maggie’s shoulder at her great-nephew, who had come out of his own door and was standing in the hallway.

“Michael is most certainly not complaining. You are stunning,” he said, his breath tickling Maggie’s ear as he leaned around her neck to kiss her cheek. “I’ll see you downstairs.”

“Miss Naomi!” Maggie hissed when he was gone. “That was very naughty.”

Miss Naomi just smiled.

*****

“Jo-Jo, how did you get the whole house done so fast? It looks fantastic!” Maggie exclaimed when there was a break in the hubbub at Caldwell House.

“Well, we had done quite a bit of the work before we got married,” Jo-Jo replied, getting that starry-eyed look again at the most glancing mention of her husband. “But, I called in the company troops to finish it while we were on our honeymoon. Your red pillows look great, by the way. I love the heart one the best.”

“I’m glad you like them. I’ve been having a lot of fun with the whole Dune Girl thing.”

“Have you thought any more about our offer to contract with Lewis-Alton?”

“Yes, actually,” Maggie said, taking the club soda Michael handed her as he arrived at her side. “My TV contract runs out at the end of December. So, I really need to get this new career moving now so I can support myself when that time comes.”

“You don’t need … ” Michael said with a slight frown. Jo-Jo shot him a look of warning. He re-directed. “You don’t need to sign a contract this weekend, though, Maggie. You’ll need to think through what kind of quantity you can produce and if you plan to do all the work yourself or hire other people to assemble your designs.”

“That sounds like wise advice,” Jo-Jo said. “Maybe you can talk it through in the next couple of weeks and give us an answer then.”

“Us?” Michael asked, poking his sister in the arm. “Would that be ‘us’ as in you and David?”

To Maggie’s astonishment, Jo-Jo blushed. She didn’t seem like the kind of woman who would be even mildly uncomfortable in any setting.

“Well … ” Jo-Jo began.

Michael just laughed. “Don’t worry, Jo-Jo. I know it’s only a matter of time until David is CEO.”

“Are you OK with that?”

“It’s a private, family company. He’s family. Plus, he certainly knows how to run a business. Yeah, I’m OK with that.”

Jo-Jo hugged her brother soundly. “Thank you, Michael. I was worried you would be upset with me. I just don’t want to do this anymore. I want to help, but I don’t want to run the company.”

“Join the club,” Michael laughed again and clinked his own glass of Coke against Jo-Jo’s and Maggie’s glasses. “To the Alton-Parker alliance, may it be a blessing to us all.”

*****

Maggie didn’t get to talk to Michael again until the end of the evening, although he was never far away as she flitted from one group to another. The Altons and Parkers were as friendly as Michael claimed them to be. She was pleasantly surprised that the Silicon Valley crowd was, as well. People she had only seen in magazine and internet articles seemed to generally wish David well in his new life and were eager to meet his friends and family.

Maggie had just left a brief conversation with an Amazon executive and his wife when Michael snagged her by the arm and led her to a back porch virtually identical in décor to the one at Alton Mansion.

“I thought you might like a break,” he said, sitting beside her on the porch swing with his arm snugly around her shoulders. He seemed oddly nervous and kept putting one hand into his pocket and taking it out.

“What’s wrong?” Maggie asked, turning toward him.

“Nothing’s wrong except that it’s Jo-Jo and David’s day,” Michael sighed, turning to press his forehead and nose against her own for a moment. “No, not even that is wrong. In fact, everything’s right.”

Maggie wasn’t sure what Michael was so flustered about. She was just tired, herself. She dropped her head onto his shoulder as he pulled her closer to his side. Michael pushed the swing slowly back and forth with one foot. It was so nice, just having a quiet moment together before going back inside to the hullabaloo reception.

Neither of them noticed the telephoto lens that was pointed their way through a clearing in the shrubbery.

Chapter 48

They’d been back in Indiana several hours. Michael had sprung his dog from Eli and Hannah’s and was giving the delighted Max a good evening run on the beach when Jo-Jo’s text came.

“Google yourself or Maggie right now. I think it was the Silicon Valley guests that drew the paparazzi in, but you guys are bearing the brunt of it. I’m very sorry about this.”

Even a quick search on his phone was upsetting. There were pictures, for one thing. One was an innocuous shot of him and Maggie heading into the Raleigh-Durham airport hand in hand. But, the other was such an invasion of their privacy it made him cringe.

Someone had managed to get a close-up shot of them nose to nose on the porch swing at Caldwell House. It was a beautiful image, Michael had to acknowledge as an artist, but the tenderness of the moment was certainly not meant for public viewing. Particularly under the title: “Maggie’s New Man.”

The text from an accompanying article was quite possibly worse:

“Runaway Bride Maggie Brady, 24, of Chicago was spotted getting cozy with Michael Alton, 39, of Raleigh this weekend at the tech-star-studded wedding reception of Alton’s sister Johanna Alton and David Parker, CEO of HyperTech.

“This marks the first recent public appearance for both Brady and Alton. Brady, daughter of former Chicago Mayor Sean Brady, made national news in June after abandoning political rising star Stephen McCutcheon, 31, also of Chicago, at the altar. Alton has kept a low profile since stepping down as CEO of Lewis-Alton Company five years ago. Prior to that, he was associated with a string of society women in Boston and the South, including the late Elena Sampson of Savannah, Ga., to whom he was briefly married.”

 “God, we really need some help here,” Michael prayed as he began a slow jog to Maggie’s cottage. He was annoyed by the unwanted attention, but he really didn’t really care that he was all over the Internet. It had happened before. It would probably happen again given his and Maggie’s family ties. But, he couldn’t believe that Maggie was exposed to this particular kind of public scrutiny again. And so soon.

He could tell she’d been crying when she opened the door. She stood still in the doorway, obviously not inviting him in. He felt slightly ill. “Maggie, I’m really sorry about this.”

“It’s not your fault, Michael,” Maggie said with a sniffle. “It just happened.”

“Please tell me you understand that there’s some truth in what they’re saying about me, but not full truth. I dated quite a few women before Elena, but it was hardly the way it sounds. And, my marriage ended the day Elena died. I was there until the end. I didn’t walk out on her.”

“I believe you,” Maggie said, looking down at her feet. “I just can’t talk about this right now, Michael. I just feel really … ”

Exposed? Vulnerable? He thought the words but didn’t supply them for her.

“I hate this, Dune Girl.”

“I know you do,” Maggie finally said, a few tears spilling onto her cheeks. “I just need to be by myself for a little bit, OK?”

“Of course, it’s OK, baby,” Baby? Michael cringed on the inside. Where had that come from? Isn’t that what Stephen called her? This is really not the time to bring that guy back in the picture in some weird way.

Michael ruffled his hair in sheer frustration. He wanted to hold her. He wanted to kiss her tears away, but somehow knew he shouldn’t. Not right now. He shoved both hands deep into his pockets in an effort to keep himself from touching her. One knuckle scraped the ring box he was still carrying and a shiver of fear went through him.

“OK, Miss Maggie,” he said softly. “I’ll say goodnight. But, I promise you I will be praying for you and for us. And, I’ll be here when you’re ready.”

“Thank you, Michael,” Maggie said. Then, she closed the door in his face.

Michael prayed all the way back to his car, Max following him down the shore in a lazy zig-zag. “God, please help her. I love her so much, but I know you love her even more. Please heal her heart.”

*****

Helen Alton called her aunt as soon as Jo-Jo told her what had happened.

“This puts Maggie in a bad spot, Aunt Naomi,” Helen said, her voice filled with worry. “And, I don’t even want to think about what it’s doing to Michael. I’m praying, but I feel like I need to leave him alone to work this out. Is there anything you can do since you’re there on the ground?”

Aunt Naomi thought for a moment before answering. “I think so, Helen. Give me a few days.”

*****

Kat called her daughter late in the evening. There was no criticism for being a publicity magnet this time. No yelling or fussing.

“I’m so sorry, Maggie,” Kat said gently.

She fell silent as her daughter cried out her worries, startled but pleased that Maggie would share her heart so openly. Kat was most concerned about the fact that Maggie seemed to be distancing herself from Michael, but decided to keep her mouth shut about that. It had been a rough summer for their mother-daughter relationship. She didn’t feel she had the right to much of an opinion at this point. But, she could offer companionship.

“Do you want to come home for a few days? Do you want me to come there and stay with you for a couple of days? We could even take a trip somewhere just to get away.”

“No, mom. I just need some time to work through this. I’ll be OK.”

*****

Jo-Jo texted Maggie as soon as Michael had called David and her for prayer. Her brother didn’t ask her for help. Ever. Frankly, it scared her that he felt he needed it.

“You two are tougher than this, Maggie. Don’t let these people bring you down. We’re praying for you and Michael both.”

*****

Maggie did yet another ego search on her laptop even though she knew she shouldn’t. It had been a couple days since the first round of pictures, but the story was still hanging on. There was plenty of speculation about their romance and more pictures – new ones from the night of the reception and some more dug up from their respective pasts. There were some that included Elena and one, oddly, that showed Maggie with a guy she’d gone out with all of two times in college. She’d never even seen it before.

Where’s a good Hollywood or Nashville scandal when you need one?

Then, Maggie found the picture that was probably keeping the story from churning out of the system. It wasn’t her or Michael, interestingly enough. It was Stephen, leaving a downtown Chicago restaurant with a Barbie-like blonde on his arm. She knew him so well Maggie could imagine the woman was hand picked for a bit of Internet retaliation. That’s certainly what the caption on one site suggested: “McCutcheon Moving On.”

Maggie suddenly felt very tired – and very sorry for Rosa.

*****

Hannah called Maggie the next morning, inviting her to spend the day at her shuttered shop.

“You need to get out of the house,” Hannah said. “Plus, I could use your help. The Harvest Festival starts tomorrow afternoon and business will be booming the whole weekend. I need to freshen up the whole store.”

“I don’t know Hannah,” Maggie said, sounding as weary and child-like as she had at the beginning of the summer. “I’m kind of a mess right now.”

“If you can’t be a mess with your friend, who can you be a mess with?” Hannah demanded. “Sometimes God alone isn’t enough, Maggie. Sometimes you need someone living and breathing by your side to encourage you.”

Maggie laughed. It was a small laugh, but Hannah seemed pleased.

“OK,” Maggie said. “I’ll be down in a few minutes. I need some sweaters if nothing else. I’m freezing.”

If Hannah was shocked at how bad Maggie looked when she arrived, she didn’t say anything, which Maggie truly appreciated. She already knew there were dark circles under her eyes and that her face was puffy and red. She already knew she looked like she hadn’t slept in days. She hadn’t.

“Oh, sweetie, come here,” was all Hannah said, bringing Maggie into the circle of her arms as well as she could with her own growing belly between them.

The awkwardness of the hug made Maggie laugh.

Hannah grinned. “I know. Eli’s convinced we’re having triplets.” She handed Maggie a pile of sweaters she’d picked out. Some were cashmere and some were a fuzzy acrylic that reminded Maggie of the fauxlar bear rug in her bathroom. Maggie put an apricot specimen from the latter pile on over her sleeveless cream-colored dress immediately. It was 11 a.m. and the sun was high. But, she was still cold.

“You look like our kitten Marmalade in that one.” Hannah said.

Maggie decided to keep the sweater she was now wearing and picked out another five to take home. She also selected a couple pairs of jeans, some thick socks, a pair of oxblood leather Mary Janes and some short boots.

“Can we order some pizza, too?” she said when she was done shopping.

Hannah laughed. “Well, you must not be in too bad of shape if you still have your infamous appetite. Sure. You’re helping me at the shop. I’ll treat.”

A few hours later, the two of them had the store poised for the onslaught of customers that would be coming.

“I didn’t realize the Harvest Festival was this big of a deal,” Maggie said, sitting down to eat yet another slice of pizza and swig some Coke. She badly needed the caffeine.

“Oh, yeah,” Hannah said. “And, I’m just on the outskirts of it. There will be tens of thousands of people in town and nearly all of them will hit the art displays in the park. That’s where Michael will be. This is a big weekend for him and a lot of other artists. It’s great for the bottom line, but it’s exhausting.”

Maggie felt guilty for pushing Michael away – the unwanted attention wasn’t his fault and she knew it — but she hoped her absence would at least bring the benefit of giving him time to prepare for the festival.

Chapter 49

Preparing for the Harvest Festival was sort of what Michael was doing. With a vengeance. His workshop was covered with wood chips. The new cabinet he was making wasn’t technically for the festival, though. He was already well stocked for that. Working with the wood was just an outlet he needed. And, he had to admit, it might have been the best work he’d ever done.

It was an armoire. The solid panels of the doors had been transformed into a virtual woodland scene, full of late spring wildflowers. Closer investigation revealed animals peeking from the foliage. A rabbit here, the face of a deer there. The carving practically vibrated with life and Michael felt better than he had in the last couple of days.

He had called Maggie a couple of times since the weekend. She had been pleasant, but said little. Her coolness was driving him crazy. He was glad he could carve out his frustration. Otherwise, he would probably need to find some firewood to chop.

His phone rang and he sat down on the floor when he saw it was David. He really did need to put at least a chair in his workshop one of these days.

“Hey, Alton. How are you doing?”   

“Not so great,” Michael admitted.

“She still won’t talk to you?”
“Not much.”

“Is it the ‘string of women’ thing?”

Michael thought about it for the hundredth time before answering. “No. I don’t think so. She knows enough about the media to understand how that kind of thing can be exaggerated. I think she just feels really vulnerable, so hurt she doesn’t want to let anybody get close to her right now. And, I’m not sure what to do about it.”

“Marry her,” David suggested helpfully.

“How can I? She’s barely speaking to me right now.”

“God will find a way, my friend,” David said calmly.

“I sure hope so.”

Michael, knowing he had to get himself together before the Harvest Festival started the next day, went upstairs in hope he would actually fall into some badly needed sleep.

*****

Maggie’s living room was filled with peacocks, a life-sized heron, a seagull meant to hang as a mobile and an entire flock of tiny, in-flight birds that dipped and swerved around each other by way of arced wire hangars. It had been a highly creative week if nothing else.

She was sure now that she wanted to contract with Lewis-Alton Company. She was still having fun with her work even though it had been a very rough week. That had to mean something.

Stopping for a break in the sewing, she dug through her refrigerator for something to turn into a quick dinner. Nothing but ketchup, carbonated water and a few dodgy apples. On impulse, she called Miss Naomi and asked her to join her at the Wharf Drive-In.

“Sure, honey,” Miss Naomi said. “Michael’s closed the shop anyway. There’s really no point in keeping it open with the festival going on.”

“How is that going for him?”

“You could ask him yourself, you know.”

When Maggie didn’t reply, Miss Naomi answered her question anyway. “The first day went really well. He sold three pieces, which is pretty amazing when you think of it.”

“His work is beautiful. I’m not surprised,” Maggie said, immediately on the defensive.

“I know, baby. But, it’s expensive and has to be shipped, which is also expensive given the size of most of his pieces. That can be off putting to a lot of people.”

“That’s true, I guess. Can I pick you up in a couple of minutes?”

“Yes.”

Maggie hopped in her car, deciding she really needed to make an offer to Miss Naomi for the thing. She’d been borrowing the Mini Cooper all summer. It was time to buy.

*****

Maggie got a chili-cheese dog with mustard, curly fries and a tall root beer. Miss Naomi got nachos and the same drink. The drive-in’s root beer was as wonderful as its ice cream. Both were made on site.

They had barely finished their meal when Miss Naomi made her first unusual request of the evening.

“Can I see your dress?”

“What dress?” Maggie asked.

“The one I got for you.”

“Didn’t you already see it?”

“I mean with you in it. A little fashion show if you will.” Miss Naomi suggested.

Maggie had no desire to sashay around in a wedding dress given the circumstances of the last week, but Miss Naomi was just too nice to refuse. Or, maybe Maggie had just inhaled too many root beer bubbles to be thinking clearly.

“OK,” she agreed in spite of herself.

Miss Naomi patted her on the knee. “Let’s go.”

*****

“No, don’t just throw it on. I want to see the full effect,” Miss Naomi requested once they were back at the cottage. “Do your hair and your make-up — perfume, the whole thing.”

Maggie laughed. It was odd, but a little fun, kind of like hanging out with dorm friends in college for a makeover night when no one had a date. Only Miss Naomi was less judgmental and wasn’t packing anything like metallic eye shadow. One try with gold eyelids when she was 20 had been enough, thank you. She remembered the cute guy from Lewis Hall stopping by her room in the middle of that particular experiment and gasping out loud when she opened the door.

The cute guy had never asked her out now that she thought about it. Imagine that.

So, Maggie went back into her bathroom and did everything Miss Naomi requested and then some, although she felt a little silly dabbing on her best perfume for a Friday night at home.

“Can you help me with the dress?” she called out the door of her bedroom. “I don’t want to get make-up on it.”

Between the two of them, they managed to get Maggie zipped into the curve-hugging dress without incident. It still fit perfectly, in spite of her indulgence at the drive-in and a few other indulgences involving dark chocolate over the last several days. Maggie was relieved.

She popped on a pair of white beaded flip flops – she didn’t have any other shoes that matched particularly well — and did a twirl for her friend just like she had done for Hannah at her shop.

“What do you think, Miss Naomi? It kinds of feels like I should be singing ‘Rhiannon.’ ” Maggie hummed a few bars of the Fleetwood Mac oldie. She was in tune, but about an octave higher than Stevie Nicks would have been back in the day. She did a Stevie type of dance, too, imagining herself in high-heeled boots.

Miss Naomi ignored the humming and the dancing. “I think the dress will work just fine.”

“What do you mean?” Maggie asked, abandoning her groove.

“Maggie, I’m going to ask something quite unusual of you,” Miss Naomi said. “I want you to go to Michael – right now, just as you are.”

Maggie’s mouth literally fell open. “I can’t do that, Miss Naomi! That would practically be like asking him to marry me.”

“I know that, baby. But, I’m asking you to do it anyway. Michael is a good man, Maggie. He deserves the opportunity to show you that. It’s time that you give it.”

Miss Naomi held out Maggie’s car keys and her purse. “Go,” she said.

Go, another voice echoed.

And, for some reason she didn’t fully understand, Maggie did.

Chapter 50

            Maggie’s courage nearly deserted her when she got to Michael’s shop, however.

For one thing, she wasn’t even sure how to let Michael know she was there. She had never seen him enter his apartment any way except through the workshop. There wasn’t a door bell or intercom to be seen outside the building. Maggie sat in her car at the side of the alleyway at least five minutes, looking at the light coming from his apartment windows. She finally worked up the nerve to text him. I’m outside.

 Maggie exited the car and stood nervously waiting for him. She whispered a “God help me” when the workshop lights flickered on and she could see Michael moving swiftly toward her. There was a breathless moment when he opened the door. His eyes swept her head to toe in unconcealed surprise. He opened his mouth. He closed it. He opened it again.

“Wow,” he finally said.

Maggie blushed so deeply she could feel the warmth all the way to her bones. But, she stood her ground. Michael moved toward her and pinched a bit of the fabric of her sleeve, rolling it between his fingers and giving a whole-face smile as he did so.

“Is this for me?”

Maggie nodded. She wasn’t capable of anything more.

“Come here.” Michael pulled her into the cover of his workshop and shut the door and all the window shutters behind them. “Will you marry me, Maggie Brady?” he asked the second they were safely out of view.

“Are you asking me because of this?” Maggie asked nervously, holding out the skirt of her dress.

“No. The dramatic gesture’s great. You’re beautiful. But, I’m asking you to marry me because I love you so much I can’t imagine doing anything else,” Michael said, already fishing her ring out of his pocket. “I’ve been carrying this around for a couple of weeks, just waiting for the time to be right.”

A couple of weeks? The significance of the timing made it through to Maggie’s heart. That meant Michael had already planned to propose when he came back from West Virginia – even before they went to Raleigh. Before the stupid photos.

“Oh, Michael, I’m so sorry about this week. I was really unfair to you.” Michael kissed away each tear this time, holding her until there was nothing left but a sniffle.

“Already forgiven and forgotten,” he murmured, kissing her forehead, each eyelid.

“Dune Girl?” he asked, suddenly stopping.

“Yes?”

“I asked you a question.”

Maggie looked at him in confusion until he lifted her left hand to face height.

“Oh! Yes!”

“Oh, yes?” Michael teased her, his lips moving on to her ear. “I like the sound of that.”

“Oh, yes,” Maggie giggled, wriggling in his arms like a puppy. “But, stop that! It tickles.”

Michael did stop, but only to slip the ring, a perfect fit, onto her finger. He held Maggie’s hand in his. “It’s my grandmother’s ring. She and my grandfather were married for 52 years. If you want something new that’s fine with me, too.”

Maggie fanned out her fingers and looked at the lovely emerald. “This isn’t going anywhere.” She tilted her face toward his and smiled, surprised by his soft laugh, given so close to her mouth that she felt it more than she heard it. “I love you, Michael.”

“Miss Maggie, do you see any owls or teen-aged boys with Frisbees?” he asked, his lips brushing tantalizingly against her own with each word.

“Not a one,” she said, suppressing another giggle.

“Good,” Michael said.

*****

“I don’t suppose I could interest you in a quick trip to Vegas?” he teased some time later, reluctantly loosening his hold on her. “I hear those wedding chapels are open all night. How many people can tell their children they were married by a man dressed like Elvis?”

Maggie giggled outright this time and he pulled her close once again.

“Rats. That’s what I thought.” He smiled against her mouth, then sighed. “So, how long do you need to plan the wedding you want?”

“A month or so?”

Michael stepped away and gaped at her in delight. “Really?”

“Yes, really,” Maggie smiled back at him. “I think we’ve both had more than enough spectacle for a long time. A simple, family wedding right on the beach sounds pretty good to me. How about you?”

“I can’t think of anything I’d like better,” he said, touching her dress sleeve once more. “Will you wear this for me, Dune Girl?”

“But, you’ve already seen it! Isn’t that against the rules, or something?”

“So? You already know I like it – a lot.” He leaned forward, kissing her slowly and softly as proof of his words.

Maggie murmured some sort of assent and pulled his face closer to hers for yet another kiss. She was surprised when he sighed, gently removed her fingers from his hair and put a restraining finger across her mouth.

“Mmmm. One month, huh?” he said, tracing the curve of her lower lip with his thumb before firmly setting her away from himself. “So, good night, Dune Girl – unless you’ve changed your mind about Vegas.” He laughed when she shook her head, then he turned her toward the door and walked her to her car. “Scoot. Go show your ring to Aunt Naomi. I have a feeling she’s waiting up for you.”

Maggie’s eyes went wide. “How did you know?”

“Oh, this isn’t the first time I’ve seen that lady in action. Eli never knew what hit him. I wouldn’t even be surprised to find out she had something to do with David and Jo-Jo. She was at that wedding where everything really got rolling. Who knows what she did?”

Maggie giggled again.

“No wonder I’ve always liked that woman,” Michael said, giving Maggie a last, soft kiss before he closed her car door.

Epilogue

Ten months later …

Michael wrapped the entirety of his wife in his arms and wondered if he’d remain able to do so through the rest of her pregnancy. Their honeymoon baby was already a week over due and Maggie had been having light contractions for days. She couldn’t possibly get much bigger – at least he didn’t think she could.

“Are you sure there’s only one in there,” he teased her for the hundredth time, settling deeper into the couch and pulling her closer to his chest so that she was far from the edge.

Maggie laughed. “Just because Jo-Jo and David had twins doesn’t mean everyone will.” She took his hand, which was now resting, fingers splayed, on the side of her belly. “We’re having just one — one little baby boy.”

“We’ll see.” Michael said.

“Quite soon, I think,” Maggie said, giving a soft cry and gripping his hand as the strongest contraction she had felt yet took hold. The pains had been intensifying and coming closer together since the middle of the night. She hadn’t gone into her own studio, which was now located in Michael’s old apartment, this morning for this very reason. Yet, she hadn’t told him. She had called him home soon after he had left for his workshop, for this same reason, and still hadn’t been ready to tell him.

Her cry and her grimace finally said what she had not.

“Maggie, is it time to go?” Michael asked in alarm, already moving her gently off the couch. “Why didn’t you say something?”

“I just needed a little time with you,” she said. “I’m scared, Michael.”

“It’s going to be OK, Dune Girl,” Michael said, kissing her quickly on the lips.

Then he sprang into action. He called Aunt Naomi to ask her to care for Max. She already had a key, since they now lived in her former beach house. They had made that exchange as soon as they returned from their honeymoon cabin in the Upper Peninsula of Michigan. The older lady had moved into Maggie’s cottage, leaving a stack of lovely hand-crocheted baby blankets behind for them. All blue. She somehow knew even before they did.

Aunt Naomi seemed to enjoy living on the beach without having so much house to care for. And, Maggie and Michael both loved the beach house, which wasn’t overly large but seemed sprawling in comparison to their previous homes. It was practically begging to be filled with children, their own and their ever-growing multitude of nieces and nephews.

Michael whisked Maggie’s hospital bag into the SUV and buckled his wife into her seat himself. He winced in empathy each time she tried to breathe away a fresh round of pain. It didn’t seem like it was very long between one and another now. How can this be happening so fast? We have to get going.

As he sped to the hospital, a wave of fear washed over Michael. How many times had he done a panicked trip like this with Elena in those last weeks of her life? He pushed away a sudden image of Maggie, lying pale and listless in a hospital bed, from his mind. He couldn’t bear it.

It turned out that was an image he never had to see. So much for slow first-time labors. Maggie’s water broke in the hospital parking lot and Michael had to half carry her into the emergency room, where the sheer speed of what was happening actually pre-empted any official paperwork. That had scared Michael more than anything else. Their child arrived scant minutes after the curtains around Maggie’s examining room swished shut.

Michael’s hands were still shaking from the shock of it all when a nurse brought their tiny son to him and showed him how to cut the cord. That job done, he held their baby close, rocking him in a dazed wonder while the hospital workers finished taking care of his wife. Eventually, his eyes lifted and he saw that Maggie lay watching him and their baby with eyes full of love, joy, something he had never quite seen before.

She didn’t look anything near pale or listless, Michael marveled when he met her gaze. Maggie looked tired but triumphant.

“You can take him to Mrs. Alton now,” the nurse who had helped with the cord tying urged. “He’s probably hungry.”

Michael carefully lowered their son into Maggie’s arms and was amazed when the child began to nurse with enthusiasm the very second he was given the opportunity. Maggie might be in a hospital bed, but she clearly wasn’t dying. She was giving life.

The moment felt holy. Michael realized that all of this – their love, their marriage, their son – was all such an amazing gift from God. His eyes stung with tears at the wonder of it all. “Thank you, Jesus,” he whispered.

Tears couldn’t last in such a place, however. He laughed as he continued to watch his wife and son. “Well, we know whose appetite he inherited.”

Maggie laughed, too, twirling their son’s thick, dark locks with her finger. “And, we know where the surfer-dude hair comes from, too.” She stared in awe at the little baby in her arms. “Michael?”

“Hmmm?”

“We had barely met a year ago at this time. Now, we’re a family.”

Michael looked at Maggie, a warm light rising in his eyes.

“God’s pretty amazing, isn’t He?”

Maggie giggled. “Absolutely.”

Michael bent to kiss his wife’s lips and then the top of his son’s tiny head. The boy was in no way distracted from his meal. Michael grinned like an idiot. It was going to take a whole lot of cabinets to feed his family. “I love you,” he whispered to them both.

Love.

Love.

Love.

The word seemed to echo round and round the room.

Dune Girl Dune Girl

Dune Girl

Dune

Girl

+++

ACKNOWLEDGEMENTS

Heart-felt thanks goes to Debbie Macomber, who graciously supported Dune Girl ever since first reading my manuscript in the fall of 2015. We tried hard… And, to friends Jennifer Biller and Kim Brown, who were also 2015 readers and supporters.

Thanks also to other friends and family who supported this project through the reading of early drafts, a drawn-out attempt at traditional publishing and the establishment of a blog to publicize this eventual self-published effort: Ginger Aulick, Julie Baldwin, Paula Bradshaw, Valleri Gordon, Cathy Horton, Beverly Ridgewell, Terry Rogan, the late Janie Schwertfeger, the late Barbara Smik, Susan Smith, Nicoletta Villa-Sella, Gretchen Wright and Tracy Zang.

There is, of course, the inner circle of family who put up with Michael and Maggie and their pals showing up in dinner conversations for way too long: husband Bruce, daughters Erica and Rachel, and my late mom June Rinehammer, who was the first person who thought the manuscript was “good enough.”

RECIPES

Miss Naomi’s Salmon Cakes

Drain one can of wild-caught salmon and place it in a large bowl, using your fingers to work any skin or bones into the mix for added nutrition. Add ½ cup each crushed rice-square cereal, finely chopped red pepper, frozen corn kernels and finely chopped red onion. Add ½ teaspoon pepper and ½ teaspoon dried rosemary (or an equivalent amount of chopped fresh rosemary if you have it). Add one egg and 1 Tablespoon freshly squeezed lemon juice.

Knead mix together and form into five patties. Fry in two cast-iron skillets (or one if you have a huge skillet) for five minutes on each side or until golden brown. Serve with a carb (whole wheat spaghetti, red-skinned mashed potatoes, slices of Italian bread etc.), a salad and some balsamic vinegar.

Southern-Belle Chess Pie

Pre-heat oven to 425 degrees. Place one refrigerated pie crust in a 9-inch pie plate. Line with parchment paper and fill with pie weights or dry beans and bake 5 minutes. Remove from oven, remove foil and set aside.

(For an alternative, dairy-free/gluten-free crust: Mix 1 cup rice flour, 2 Tablespoons water, pinch salt, 6 Tablespoons canola oil and one egg yolk into a smooth ball. Press (don’t roll) into pie plate for a rustic tart-style pastry. Prick bottom with fork before a brief empty baking. Set aside.)

For filling, mix together 2 cups sugar, 2 Tablespoons cornmeal, 1 Tablespoon flour, pinch salt, ½ cup melted butter or canola oil, ¼ cup dairy or nut milk (for dairy free), 1 Tablespoon apple-cider vinegar, ½ teaspoon vanilla and 4 eggs.

Reduce oven temp to 350 and bake filled crust for 50 minutes or until set. Cool on rack.

West Virginia Pepperoni Rolls

Mix together 5-6 cups white flour (or a 4:1 ratio of white to whole wheat), 1 package of dry yeast and ½ teaspoon salt. Add 1 ½ cups water that feels warm, not hot, on your wrist and mix into a smooth dough, adding more white flour as needed. Knead dough 7-10 minutes. Oil the ball, cover with a towel and set in a warm place and let double in size. Punch down risen dough and divide into 16 small balls.

Keeping unused dough under a towel, roll each ball into a rectangle. Fill each with a 2-3 inch long pepperoni stick or 5-7 pepperoni slices, a similar quantity of your favorite cheese and roll into a tube. Place the filled rolls onto an oiled cookie sheet, seam side down, and bake 20 minutes at 400 degrees.

If you’re feeling fancy, add 1 teaspoon dried Italian herbs to the dry dough ingredients before mixing. Or, sauté a bunch of colorful peppers and onions and include those in the rolls with the pepperoni and cheese.