“Do you love me?”
“I…yes. I mean, this week it feels like I do. But…”
“But.” His head dropped again, he kicked at a tuft of grass. Maggie put her hand on his arm.
“What about when I get home? What if this was
just…a temporary revival of something we both found out long ago wasn’t meant to be? I don’t know. I’m not even me right now.”
“You’re more you than when you arrived a week ago.”
“Point taken. But I can’t live my life kayaking and bowling and taking naps in a park. Not even making love with you.”
“Whoa. Why not?” He gave her a sidelong grin.
She laughed. “I know, I know. But life isn’t like that.”
He stepped forward, took her wrists and brought her flush against him, brushed his hand over her hair. “Life should be like that. Since you’ve been back, we’ve both changed, both come more alive. I want more of that. Why don’t you?”
“Because it’s not about acting on what you want at any given moment. It’s about responsibility and commitment and following through on things you’ve—”
He cut her off with a kiss that made her brain melt down and her thoughts scatter. “You want to leave this?”
“No.” She pressed her lips together, tried to retrieve her logic. “But as wonderful as this is, as you are, I can’t give up everything for it. At least not yet.”
He nodded, and nearly broke her heart letting her go. This was their basic difference coming up again. He leaped at life—whatever felt good, whatever made him happy, there he went. He might have found a job, a house, made those commitments at least, but look how he was ready to toss it all after seeing her again for a few days. Look how he expected her to toss it all for him. Look how he’d tossed
her
away after two years together in high school.
She’d been raised with a strong responsibility to others that made her an excellent team player, but, yes, sometimes also a martyr. On his side, circumstances forced him to
develop a strong responsibility to himself, which made him fiercely independent, but also self-indulgent. She couldn’t turn her back on who she was any more than he could.
“I’ll think about it. I promise.”
He nodded, and she knew they both knew she wasn’t going to move here, and that while they might try to keep the relationship going long-distance for a while, eventually the Maggie and Grant story would end the way it had the last time: in bitterness and disappointment.
M
AGGIE SAT
on her balcony overlooking Lake Michigan, trying not to sweat in spite of the record heat. She couldn’t bear to be indoors, even if it was beautifully cool there. Inside lurked her laptop and all the e-mails she should return, her bills and her mail from the last four days which she hadn’t had time to open. Usually she kept on top of all that stuff. Recently…
At work, another long day of intrigue and the usual mix of successes, failures, progress and setbacks. In the weeks since she’d been back from Princeton, she’d felt unusually detached from the process. The empty, shaky feeling that used to bother her occasionally was now her constant companion. She’d been without Grant for eleven years, seen him for less than a week and had missed him horribly for the last month.
Of course they’d been in touch, but their conversations were haunted by their frustration at not being able to come to a solution satisfying to both, which allowed them to be together. Maggie couldn’t see them continuing to beat themselves over the head with the same problem for much longer.
Could she move? Of course she could. But she wasn’t yet convinced it was the sensible thing to do. Sometimes, given her recent restlessness and dissatisfaction, she’d ask herself what the hell was stopping her? Just fear? Same
old stick-in-the-mud Maggie? Hadn’t she learned to look past that?
And yet, there were so many obvious risks. What if her renewed feelings for Grant were just part of the romance of reuniting with an old boyfriend? Wouldn’t their old problems ambush them again once the exciting newness wore off? Could she change her entire life just for the hope and the early thrills? Maybe. But wouldn’t it be more sensible to try to bring the fun and spontenaiety Grant reintroduced her to back into her life here? Maybe that would be all she needed.
Yes, brilliant plan. So she’d decided. But her rut was extremely reluctant to let her out. Maggie had planned to start sculpting again and had gone so far as to dig out her old tools. Great start, but…she hadn’t made it to the store to buy the clay. The picture of Wobbles remained tacked to her bulletin board in the room she called her office, which in a burst of optimism she’d considered renaming her “studio.”
Right. Because of all the art she wasn’t going to do there. She had an hour before bedtime tonight, and she was so exhausted she couldn’t even think of doing anything but sitting here, staring at the water, feeling the heat baking around her—an oven at 9:30 p.m. Even the breeze was hot.
She’d talked to her adoptive mom that morning. She and Maggie’s father were fine. She’d complained about a train delay that had fouled up their planned trip to Brighton. Was Maggie working hard? Good, good for her.
Her father had come on the phone. How was the job going? Had she helped land any new accounts lately? How was her bank account faring, did she need any money?
Maggie knew they loved her, of course she did. But…Had they ever just asked if she was happy? And more to the point, why couldn’t she tell them she wasn’t?
Her cell rang. She fumbled for it and glanced at the screen. If it was someone from work she’d hurl her phone off the balcony and too bad for anyone passing on the sidewalk below.
Whew. Not work. “Hello, Clara. How are you?”
“What’s wrong, Maggie? You sound miserable.”
“Oh, no, I’m just—” She gestured out into the black depths of Lake Michigan while a surprise rush of tears clogged her throat.
“Having a tough day?”
“Yeah, pretty bad.”
“I’m so sorry.” Clara made a tsk-tsk noise; Maggie could picture her shaking her head grimly. She was suddenly ludicrously homesick for the time she’d spent with this kooky, wonderful woman. “Things okay with Grant?”
“They’re fine. Except that he’s there and I’m here.”
“Oh, yes.” Clara sighed heavily. “Worst part of long-distance relationships is no hugs.”
“No kidding.” Among other things. She sniffed, feeling horrifically sorry for herself, which was not like her.
“I finished your painting.”
Maggie sat up straighter, pleasure giving her a little more energy, even in the heat. “That was so fast.”
“I don’t have much else to do. I hope you’ll like it. Grant promised to take a digital picture and send it to you.”
“That would be wonderful. I can’t wait.”
“I’m going to hang it in my living room so I can see you every day.”
Maggie’s smile of pleasure sagged at the thought of her mother missing her after such a short visit. And at the thought of her having to make do with a painting after so many years apart. “Thank you.”
“I could have done a better job if you’d been here, you know. And even though Grant can get you a photograph of it, you’d like the painting better if you could see it here in person…”
She nodded in the darkness, fighting tears. “I know.”
“Maggie. I don’t want to butt in, which as you know means I’m going to, but are you happy? I know you’re not at the moment, but are you? Do you get up every morning and face the day with joy? Do you revel in your womanhood and in your creativity? Do you nurture your body and soul, or spend hours at a time depriving both? I’m asking you, but I think you also need to ask yourself. Concentrate on what you have, the ways you’ve chosen to live your life. Would you choose them again?”
The tears won the battle, sliding down Maggie’s cheeks; she couldn’t speak. What else would she have chosen? How else would she survive? Not by sculpting.
“I consider the years I spent without you as a waste. Not of my life, but of the chance to love someone besides myself. That’s what life is about, Maggie. Now I’ve met you, I’m happier than I’ve ever been. Because you belong to me, and I love you.”
Maggie’s tears came harder. She tried to speak and couldn’t. She needed to say something. Fill that horrible post I-love-you space her parents left her unable to cope with. A decade ago, had she given up on her own path, her own passion, her own chance at love because it was what she wanted or what they did? Was she living the life she wanted or the one they wanted for her?
“But it’s not too late.” She spoke forgetting Clara
hadn’t been listening to the words in her head and would have no idea what she was talking about.
“Of course it’s not. It’s never too late.”
She did understand. She was Maggie’s mom. “I have to go, Clara.”
“I’ll be seeing you soon, won’t I?”
“Yes.” She nodded her head, tears now coming down from happiness. “Very soon. And Clara?”
“Yes, my sweet.”
Maggie got up and went to the edge of the balcony, focussing east and slightly south, where she imagined New Jersey might be, where the two people dearest in the world to her were waiting. “I love you, too.”
G
RANT HUNG UP
the phone and stalked back into the bathroom on his second floor, which he’d finally gotten around to renovating. His third call to Maggie in the last five hours, and no answer. This was crazy. What kind of relationship was this when he couldn’t even reach her when he wanted to talk? He’d encouraged her to be less tied to and dependent on her cell, but not when
he
was calling. Ha-ha.
For the last month he’d been in an agony of frustration. What would it take to convince her to move? He was willing to move to Chicago, but for the problem of Clara being left without both of them. Even Maggie agreed her relocating to Princeton made more sense. Except…she couldn’t bring herself to do it. He’d tried very hard to be patient and understanding. Lately, however, he’d been fantasizing about less noble options, like begging, pleading, manipulation and threats. Except he didn’t want her to cave and do it for him, he wanted her to do it for herself.
What was the point in stubbornly resisting what she
knew was right? He thought he’d finally proved to her how good it was to jump in with both feet. Didn’t she trust they could land safely together?
He was sure they could. And it felt pretty lousy being apparently alone in that conviction. Once in a while, he got the feeling she was seriously considering the move, but her natural caution won out every time.
Grant was coming closer to issuing an ultimatum: choose, or take a break from each other. Because the subject hung over all their phone calls, throwing its shadow even on innocuous conversations. “How was your day? Is it hot there? What are you having for dinner?” While playing in his mind, like a song he couldn’t get out, “Move here, be with me. I love you but you’re frustrating me to the point of insanity.”
He squeezed a thin line of grout to bond the edge of the sink he’d just installed to the new beige tile wall, shaped the paste carefully so it would be even and smooth. Thank God he had work to do here or he’d go stark raving loony.
His doorbell rang downstairs. Grant rolled his eyes. Someone wanted him to donate something or sign something or buy something, or all three. He put the caulk gun down and strode across the hall and into the spare bedroom where he peeked out the window. Unless there was a truck or car outside, he wouldn’t bother answering.
An unfamiliar car in his driveway. The doorbell rang again.
“Coming.” He thudded downstairs, hoping it wasn’t a social call. He wasn’t in the mood to chat. Sundays were his work day and he didn’t like interruptions.
At the front door, he peered through the peephole.
The door had never opened faster. He was surprised he didn’t rip it clear off the hinges.
Maggie.
“Delivery for Mr. Conroy.”
He wouldn’t stop grinning for the next decade. “I’m Mr. Conroy.”
“I’ve got a large Conte’s pizza, sausage, bacon and pepperoni with extra cheese. And…” she pulled something from behind her back “…a six of Rolling Rock, New Jersey’s finest.”
“Hi, Maggie.”
Her brilliant blue eyes softened. She hadn’t styled her hair and it framed her face in glorious disarray. His Maggie. “Hi, Grant.”
“Should I even bother saying ‘this is a surprise’ or is my jaw landing on the floor enough?”
“It’s enough. Can I come in?”
“Oh yes.” He took the pizza and beer and put them down right on the floor, because he couldn’t wait to get her in his arms. Why she was here could wait.
Several kisses later, she broke away, laughing. “Aren’t you going to ask me what I’m doing here?”
“Not yet.” He kissed her again, hands traveling places inappropriate in public. Her breathing changed and she let out the small sound he loved so much, which betrayed her arousal.
“Ask me now.”
He sighed, as if her request were a grave imposition, while trying not to show either nerves or too much hope. “Okay. What are you doing here, besides bringing me pizza?”
“I’m here to look for an apartment. And a job. And sculpting clay.”
“Oh-h-h, Maggie.” He was too scared to allow any happiness yet. “You’re sure this is what you want?”
“If you promise not to dump me the minute your feelings change, then yes.”
He could only stare, his brain trying to make sense of her words. Dump her the minute his feelings changed? Is that what she thought—
Oh God. That’s what he’d told her. “Don’t you know why I really broke up with you, Maggie?”
“Sure.” She rolled her eyes for comic effect, but he could sense her pain. “You didn’t want to go out with me anymore.”
“No. God, no. I broke up with you because I would have held you back from the life you were raised to live. I had no prospects, no ambition. I knew in college you’d fall for some pre-law Ivy Leaguer and I’d get shafted anyway. So it was a preemptive strike.” He had to look away to grapple with his emotions.
He
hadn’t trusted they could land safely together. Not back then. “I might have broken your heart, but I swear, I ripped my own out in the process.”
“Grant.” She took this in, and he could see what it cost her. His fault all the pain, all their wasted years apart. Then, miraculously, on her beautiful face, the beginnings of a triumphant smile. “And you accused
me
of living too much in fear of what might happen?”
“Touché.” Relief made him weak. They were going to be okay. The past was past, and they were about to start their future—delayed, but not destroyed. “See how much we’re the same?”
“Except for the pizza thing, which will always drive us apart.”
“Tragically.” He chuckled because he couldn’t stay silent with this much joy growing in him. Maggie was here. She’d come back. “What changed your mind about moving?”
“Believe it or not, Clara finishing the picture of me.”
“Uh…you’re going to have to walk me through that one.”
“I realized it could be months before I saw it. And that once I finally made time to sculpt Wobbles it could be months before she saw it. So here she’d be with a fake piece of me and there I’d be with a fake piece of her, and that’s not what either of us wanted.”
“I’m glad, Maggie.” He was, very glad, for her and for Clara. He also, selfishly, didn’t want Clara to be the only reason Maggie decided to move.
“And the next reason…” she kissed him twice and stayed close “…is that I don’t want to wait until I’m old to realize I should have taken this second chance to be with you, Grant, but was just too much of a coward. I don’t want memories to be all I have of you anymore.”
He nodded, too moved to speak right away. How many times had he dreamed of this? “But you came thinking I was an unstable mess who could back out of a relationship at a moment’s notice. That’s not cowardly.”
“No, it’s completely insane.”
He laughed, resting his forearms on her shoulders, burying his hands in her glorious cloud of hair.
“One more thing, Grant.” She wrapped her fingers comfortably around his wrists. “Something I haven’t given you yet, that I should have a long time ago.”
“Besides meat-loaded pizza?”
“Besides meat-loaded pizza. Three words.”
Three words. Grant went still, expectant, feeling as if the rest of his life were about to start.
“I love you.”
He knew she did. But given how hard the words were for her, those beautiful lips opening and saying them meant more to him than he could ever tell her. “I love you, too, Maggie. Always have.”