What Were You Expecting? (17 page)

“You’re not staying for dinner, Maggie?” asked Mr. Lindstrom.

She stopped on the second stair, turning around and picking through the dusty, hazy late-afternoon light to find Nils’s eyes.

“She can’t, Pop,” said Nils in a low, controlled voice, staring back at her.

“S-sorry, Mr. L,” she said quickly, holding the pots closer to her chest as she started back downstairs. “Not today.”

Chapter 9

It didn’t surprise Maggie that Nils started coming back into the Prairie regularly again. For all that their attic date had ended on an uncertain note, she had sensed his relief that their break from one another was over. Maggie felt the same way. She had missed him, and knowing that he hadn’t meant the hurtful words he’d said to Tess changed her heart.

But in the days following their time in the attic, her mind circled endlessly around their conversations, trying to put together the puzzle of Nils Lindstrom, trying to understand him. What stumped her the most was his reaction to the prom picture; she’d never seen him so stricken, so shaken—the way he’d started sweating, his eyes staring at the image as if he was looking at a ghost. After hearing the ill-fated story of Maisy McKintrick, she knew that Nils wouldn’t pursue her if there was a complication between them.

Who was the girl in the picture and why did Maggie have a growing suspicion that
she
was the complication? Was she an old girlfriend? Yes, she must have been. Their body language in the photo said that they weren’t on an awkward first date; they meant something significant to each other. Not to mention Nils’s reaction to the picture had been so intense. He’d looked devastated. Had something happened to her? Something dreadful? Whoever she was, Maggie was determined to figure out why she elicited such a strong reaction from Nils. But it would have to wait a bit. For now, she just wanted to figure out how they could live in a small town, be secretly married to each other, and still manage to spend time together as friends.

She was wiping down the bar on Thursday evening when Nils walked into the café, a big, teasing grin on his face as he winked at her and headed to their usual euchre table. She glanced at her watch and couldn’t help but chuckle. He was two hours early for their game.

“So,” she said, “back as promised.”

“You did say to be early.”

“Two hours? That’ll do.”

“It’s my seat.”

Maggie glanced around the room. A young high school couple was canoodling on the window seat between the bookcases and two off-duty police officers shared coffee at a table in the center of the room. It wouldn’t get busy again for an hour or so, when the after-dinner traffic started. She took a seat across from him, grinning.

“And what exactly are you planning to do for two hours?”

“I like the view here,” he teased, then shrugged. “I brought my Kindle.”

“And what’re you readin’?”

“Nothing exciting. There’s this guy…Bill Bryson. He walked the Appalachian Trail a few years back then wrote a book about it. Called…”

“….
A Walk in the Woods
!” said Maggie. “One of my bestsellers!”

She got up and reached for a dog-eared copy of the paperback on a nearby shelf, gazing down at the image of a bear head with the woods behind. She placed it on the table before him.

“That’s the one.”

“You work as a tour guide. You’re always in the park. Why would you read something like that in your free time?” she asked.

“I like what I like, Maggie May. Parks and tours. Hey, by the way…that reminds me. I have a tour this weekend, but my Dad’s hosting a little
Midsommardagen
supper at his place on Sunday night. Outdoors. Wanted me to tell you you’re invited.”

She grinned. “Lars already told me.”

“Figures.”

“I’ll be there. But…” She tried not to look too disappointed. “…you won’t be?”

“We’ll see how fast I can make it back to town. I’ve been trying to pick up a little extra slack since Pop’s got a long haul coming up in July—four-week tour. I’ll be there, eventually, but I’ll be a mess. Dusty from the trail. They want hiking.”

She looked down quickly. He’d just described the beginning of her favorite fantasy…that he walks in the door of her apartment on a Sunday night, tanned and dirty from two days in the park, and without saying a word, she takes his hand and pulls him into her bathroom where’s she’s lit twenty tiny candles that flicker and fill the room with soft, romantic light. She kneels before him to unlace his muddy boots and takes her time undressing him, loving the clank of his belt buckle hitting her tile floor, the red dust floating from his clothes to cover the white basin of her sink. Once he’s naked and hard as rock with wantin’ her, she pulls her dress over her head and slowly unhooks her bra. He makes a low sound in the back of his throat when her panties land softly on top of his jeans and she takes his hand, pulling him into the shower, which is hot and—

“Maggie? Mags?”

“W-What?”

“Where’d you go?”

“Oh, I, um…yes, you’ll be dusty on Sunday night.”

He screwed up his face at her, shaking his head. “I’ll stop home and shower quick first. Or grab one at Pop’s place. Did you hear anything I said after that?”

She looked into his blue eyes, her fantasy still vivid and pressing in her mind, making her stomach flutter like it could happen…someday. She smiled at him weakly.

“Where are you today?” he asked softly.

“Right here,” she said, putting her palms on the table and pushing up. “Can I bring you a sandwich?”

He reached out and placed his palm over her hand, the rough warmth of his skin shocking and exhilarating because since Sunday she’d been longing for him to touch her again. She stared down at his hand covering hers, feeling her heart kick into a gallop.

“Mags, you okay?” The playful tone he’d used for most of their little visit was replaced by a light, but sincere, concern.

She pulled her hand out from under his and nodded. “I’ll make you something to eat.”

Turning back to the coffee bar, she wondered how much longer they could go on like this…how much longer they’d need to deny themselves what they both wanted, what they both needed, what already belonged to them.

***

Beck had taken it pretty well, thought Nils dryly as he shuffled the cards for the final hand. He glanced up to catch Beck at the bar, eyes narrowed, sipping his coffee and lingering like he had a reason. Nils had to hand it to his rival: Beck didn’t give up easily. It was something that Nils actually respected in another man and he fleetingly wondered if he and Beck could have been friends if Maggie didn’t lie between them.

But she did. She did.

And more and more, Nils was worried. He couldn’t seem to stop thinking of her as belonging to him. His mind insisted on calling her his wife, regardless of the secret, sham status of their arrangement. And he knew he was wrong to block Beck from making a move on her, but he couldn’t seem to help it. For the first time in fifteen years, he started wondering if he had any other options, if there was any possible way to share his life with someone, to—

“Deal, Nils, for God’s sake! Those cards don’t need more shuffling.” Lars nudged him with his elbow.

“Anyone need a refill?” asked Maggie, and all three men nodded yes. She balanced their cups and headed up to the bar as Nils watched her surreptitiously between flicking cards to the four spaces at the table.

Once behind the counter, she leaned forward and giggled at something Beck said. Nils’s nose flinched in a sneer and he cleared his throat.

“I may have been wrong about them dating,” said Lars, picking up his cards.

“I don’t think they are,” added Paul.

“Might finally be time for you to do something about her, though,” said Lars gently, a thread of serious in his generally playful tone.

“Shut up, Lars.”

“You know,” Lars folded his cards in his hand and rested them against the table, zeroing in on his brother with uncompromising eyes. “I’ve tried to figure you out for years…I mean, you watch every move she makes; it’s clear you like her. And it’s not like you don’t get with a Park Girl from time to time. Hell, you’ve even had girlfriends before. I remember that chick you dated in high school, Ver—”

“Enough,” growled Nils, flattening his palm on the table with a loud slap.

“Let it go, Lars,” advised Paul, as Maggie rejoined them.

“What’re you boys fightin’ about? Whatever it is, there’s an end to it,” she said, sliding their coffees across the table. “The party’s in less’n two weeks. Where’re you takin’ your pop that day, Lars?”

“I was thinking that the park wouldn’t be enough,” he answered. “We need a real diversion.”

“Hearts,” bid Nils, still shaken that Veronica, who’d only lived in the shadows of his mind for years, had stepped into conversation with Maggie in the attic and now with Lars over euchre. It was like her spirit was bearing down on him, demanding something from him, or at least refreshing his memories to shame him away from Maggie, reminding him that he didn’t deserve the sort of happiness she could offer him.

“So, what’d you come up with?” asked Paul. He glanced at his cards. “Pass.”

“Clubs,” answered Maggie, looking at Lars.

“There is only one diversion in the whole world that’d make Pop drop everything,” said Lars, grinning. “I promised Jenny-girl we’d babysit Erin. We’re taking her to Old Faithful and then to Mammoth Springs. Her first trip into the park with
Morfar
and
Onkel
Lars. My only worry is getting him back out again once he starts showing her everything!”

Nils nodded in approval at his little brother. He had to hand it to Lars. It was the perfect distraction. Like every other Lindstrom man, their father was crazy about that little girl; if anyone could keep his attention occupied, it was definitely Erin.

Nils was distracted by Maggie, whose shoulders were shuddering as she stared at her cards, desperately trying to hold back her giggles.

“Maggie, what’s so funny?” Lars’s brows were knitted together as he watched Maggie warily.

She erupted into gales of laughter, finally looking up at all of them with tears in her eyes. “She’s in a car seat! She’s six months old!”

“Jen said she likes car rides,” Lars grumbled.

“Oh, I’m sure she does,” said Maggie, still trembling with laughter. “But, more to the point…do you and your da like changin’ diapers? Babies dinna like cold bottles either. Where’re you goin’ to find warm water in the middle of the park? Canna use the geyser water, Lars!”

“Diapers and bottles? Damn it,” said Lars, grimacing before gathering his cards in his hands and throwing them into the center of the table. “I’m out. I got a phone call to make.”

He grabbed his jacket and they heard him exclaim, “Jenny! It’s Lars! What the…” into his phone as he walked out of the Prairie Dawn.

“I think Lars is about to get schooled in babies.” Paul watched him go and then turned to Maggie with a grin. “I should go, too. We have the graduation rehearsal tomorrow and I’m still working on my speech.”

“Another year down, huh?” asked Nils, gathering the cards. Looking around, he realized the café had mostly cleared out over the couple of hours they’d been playing, although Beck still lingered at the bar, looking at a newspaper.

“Thank God,” sighed Paul. “I’m running out of steam. Summer can’t come fast enough.”

“You goin’ to let me try to find you a nice lass this summer?” asked Maggie.

Paul cringed, looking over at Nils for help. Nils smiled at his friend then looked away, shuffling the cards before straightening them into a neat deck. Lord’s sake, Paul and his brothers had given him a hard time often enough about Maggie. Turnabout was fair play.

“Aw, Maggie. No offense, but you’re a terrible matchmaker.”

“One time! One time, I tried to set you up with—”

“One? Try three! And all awful dates!”

“Well, there aren’t that many women to choose from. Plus, I think you’re a wee too picky.”

“Picky? The last one had shingles, for Chrissakes! And that’s all she talked about. No more.” Paul rolled his eyes, pushing away from the table and throwing on a windbreaker. “I mean it. Nils, tell her I’m serious.”

“He
seems
very serious, Maggie.”

“He doesn’t know what he needs.”

Nils smiled at her and shook his head back and forth, shrugging at Paul.

Paul smirked at Nils. “Oh, you’re lots of help. Thanks for nothing.” Then to Maggie, “I mean it. NO MORE.”

“We’ll see…” said Maggie in a singsong voice as Paul headed out the door grumbling about people needing to mind their own business. “I love teasin’ him.”

“Do you set up bad dates on purpose?”

“Tsk!” she scolded, touching her fingers to her chest in mock outrage which was ruined by her lips quivering with another round of giggles. “Would I ever do somethin’ that devious?”