What Were You Expecting? (22 page)

“Oh! No one! But, Paul was at Liberta’s Liquors buying up Aquavit like it was going out of style. Maggie closed the Prairie Dawn early tonight. Jenny’s in town. Erik should be here in an hour, even though his wife should probably be on bed rest with those two little’uns kicking around inside. A man knows when his kids are up to something…”

Nils nodded, the grin fading from his face as he summoned the courage to pose the question he’d come here to ask. “Pop…”

“Nils. You got the weight of the world on those shoulders.” Carl put the bottle on the table beside him and wiped the milky drool from the corner of Erin’s mouth, hefting her gently onto his shoulder to pat her back rhythmically.

Had he ever been that small? Nestled safely on his father’s shoulder? Or had he always been this freakishly enormous human being?

“It doesn’t scare you? Her?” he gestured to his niece whose little feet sticking out of her jammies curled into one another as she settled onto her grandfather’s shoulder.

His father looked at him thoughtfully from over his glasses. “Scare me? I had four.”

Nils looked down at his hands—his huge mitts that he clasped in his lap. His voice was soft when he asked, “What if you’d lost one?”

“Would’ve wanted to die, I reckon.” He patted and rubbed the little back on his shoulder, trying to coax a burp. “Your mama miscarried once and it just about leveled us.”

Nils’s eyes whipped up to find his father’s. “What? I had n-no idea!”

“Yup. Between you and Lars. She was about four months along, so we’d just told everyone at Thanksgiving. But your mama took a spill on the ice two weeks later, and…”

“She lost it.”

“She did.”

“I don’t remember.”

“You were barely two.”

“Jag är ledsen, Pappa
.”

He said he was sorry softly, his own heart straining with its own secrets, its own private pain.

“When she came home from the hospital, crushed and sad, she went straightaway to your room, Nils. Pushed the blond hair off your little forehead. Watched you sleep for hours.” Erin let out a little
urp
, and Mr. Lindstrom chuckled quietly, resettling her into the crook of his arm, touching her pouty little lips gingerly with the cloth again before turning back to Nils. “You gave her the strength to move on, to try again.
You
, son. Her
Største.
”

Nils stared at his father’s glistening light blue eyes, a mirror image of his own, overwhelmed with feelings of regret for his parents, for himself. He didn’t know what to say, but he swiped at his eyes, glad he’d come to his father’s house, glad to know this little piece of family history, despite how sad it made him feel for his parents. In the strangest way, it made him not feel so alone.

But a voice in his heart reminded him that as sorry as he was to hear about his father’s loss, his own overshadowed it. It steeled his resolve to do what he knew had to be done.

“Pop,” he started softly. “The McCarthy group. I want to take it. And I’m glad to take them tomorrow afternoon like they asked.”

“Gode Gud
!” His father looked up from Erin’s blonde head, brows furrowed. “That’s a month-long tour, Nils. Why would you want—? And you’ll…you’ll miss the party tomorrow.”

“I’ve done three weeks before. Can’t be so different. And, Pop,” he looked away from his father, desperately hoping his father would understand, “I’m so sorry about the timing with the party and all, but I just feel like…”

“Don’t worry about the party. I don’t care about that. And it’s not your skill I question, Nils, but your motives. Why d’you suddenly want this group? Why do I feel like you’re running away from something?”

“I need to get away for a while, that’s true. I need to get out of Gardiner. I need…space. From something.”

“I see. No other options?”

“I’m afraid not. The sooner, the better, Pop.”

“You won’t let yourself have her,” his father murmured softly.

“Jag kan inte
.” Nils shook his head sadly.
I can’t.

“Nils…son, I wish you’d tell me why. I see how much you care for her, how much she cares for you. You’d get along well together. Why can’t you—”

“Please, Pop,” Nils whispered, standing up from the trunk. He leaned forward and pressed his lips to the white hair on his father’s head, holding his cheeks gently. “Please don’t ask. Please, just…”

When he drew back, his father nodded sadly. “It’s all yours, then. We’ll spend some time early tomorrow morning going over the itineraries. Why don’t you call over to the Best? Let them know you can leave tomorrow afternoon? Mr. McCarthy will be happy to hear it.”

“I’m sorry to miss your party, Pop.”

“Doesn’t bother me a bit, son.”

Nils wished he could smile at his father, but he couldn’t. He knew he was doing the right thing for him and Maggie. He knew that he couldn’t repeat his behavior from tonight, but he also had to face the fact that he was helpless around her. He hoped that four weeks apart would lessen the pull between them, and hopefully give her a chance to solidify things with Beck. When he came back, she’d be taken and Nils would be strong again, and they could find their footing as friends if it wasn’t already too late. But at least they could finish out their farce of a marriage so Maggie could get her green card, and once she was settled with Beck, he wouldn’t be tempted to make a move on her again. He’d let her go. He’d have to.

“Største
.” As Nils turned to leave, his father’s voice stopped him. “I know you’re running away from something. I know you been running for years. I always hoped you come and talk to me about whatever it was, but I can’t force you to tell me what weighs so heavy on your heart. I just need you to know that when you’re ready to talk, I’m ready to listen, son.”

Nils turned at the door and tilted his lips up briefly in a vague facsimile of a smile, then turned to go. The thing was? He’d never be ready. Never. He knew that for sure.

Chapter 11

One month later, Maggie was in a better place, though if she thought about it too hard, she still trembled with panicked embarrassment when she thought about Mr. Lindstrom’s face the night of his party, informing her that Nils wouldn’t be coming, that he had, in fact, left for the park with a group that afternoon.

“Left Gardiner,” she’d repeated, utterly blindsided. “For a month.”

“I’m sorry, Maggie,” he’d replied softly.

“Left for a month. On your birthday.”

His blue eyes were profoundly sympathetic before he was distracted by one of his other children.

Her eyes had burned so sharply with tears, she’d kept her head down as she made her way through the crowd of people, heading out the back door of the café and running up the stairs to her apartment where she’d collapsed on the floor against her front door.

That kiss had been like a collision, like a force of nature mixed with fate: magnetism, gravity, inevitability…perfection. Once their lips touched and he had hauled her onto his lap, there was no turning back. Maggie’s life had flashed before her eyes like a home video stuck on fast forward. In every fiber of her being she knew that she’d been living her whole life to arrive at that moment with Nils Lindstrom: the end of their friendship, the beginning of their forever.

Except it hadn’t been a beginning for Nils. For Nils, who’d taken the first possible opportunity to leave Gardiner—for a month, no less—it must have been a mistake. A
massive
mistake. And the pain it caused for her to realize this incredibly humiliating truth was so white hot and overwhelming, she could do nothing but weep. There she’d sat on her apartment floor, ruining her pretty silk blouse—one she’d ordered a while ago and saved for a special night like tonight, when she and Nils were finally finding their way—as the music from the party drifted up from the café below.

Beck was the one who’d come to find her, knocking gently and asking her to let him in. He’d sat beside her on the floor against the door. He hadn’t touched her—taken her hand or rubbed her back—he seemed to know that she only needed a friend in that moment and Maggie would be forever grateful for his kindness to her.

So grateful that when he’d asked her out on a proper date a week later, she’d hadn’t been able to say no. So grateful that when he’d put his arms around her and kissed her at the end of the night, she didn’t have the heart to tell him that his kiss paled to gray next to the scorching red of the one she’d shared with Nils, but her face must have said it all, because he hadn’t tried for another kiss after that.

As the weeks wore on, Maggie examined that kiss with Nils more clearly, concentrating less on her bruised feelings afterward, and more on the act itself. No man could have faked that kind of passion, that level of heat and attraction. Nils wanted her just as much as she wanted him—of that she was utterly certain.

But she could also say with certainty that she was finally starting to accept the fact that Nils Lindstrom’s issues might be unfixable. After four years of hope, a green-card marriage and a kiss that made her world tilt on its axis and spin, Maggie had to begin reconciling herself to the idea that as much as Nils wanted her on a carnal, visceral level, he might never allow himself to have her.

As for her feelings? They hadn’t changed. She couldn’t just shut down four years of longing, but despite the fact that she wanted him, she needed to start letting go. She wasn’t willing to wait forever for him to work out his problems and make space for her in his life. She was already twenty-nine years old. Not that she was old, but she wanted a family and children someday, and if there was one painful reality that she’d had to accept, it was that Nils had a big problem with kids. And since having kids was something non-negotiable in Maggie’s future, a future that included Nils seemed less and less likely.

So, she worked hard during their weeks apart to ignore her love for him and even buried it, systematically and deliberately, in the deepest depths of her heart until she could bear the conscious loss of it. Her anger at his abrupt departure and humiliation at his rejection helped her make it easier to let him go.

A month had gone by and Maggie quietly promised herself—and her fragile dignity—not to pursue him ever again. There was a strange strength that came from admitting defeat and accepting the truth, and Beck’s friendship and obvious attraction to her cushioned the blow. Maybe Nils didn’t want her, but someone else did.

“Hey, Maggie Leslie,” said Beck with a happy smile, walking into the Prairie after hours, slipping onto his favorite bar stool at the far end of the counter.

“We’re closed,” she said, returning his smile.

It was Friday evening and they had a date scheduled for dinner tomorrow night, so she was surprised to see him, but not bothered. He hopped off the stool and reached for the doorknob, pushing the lock in, before returning to his seat with a “there you go” grin. As much as she didn’t feel romantic about Beck, she did have legitimate feelings of affection for him and looked forward to his company. He was good-looking and stable, and she knew from their conversations that he wanted kids someday. Perhaps, she thought, her feelings could grow into something more.

“Coffee?”

He nodded. “And a scone. I’ve earned it. Thought I’d cheer myself up by coming to see you.”

“Tough day?”

Beck looked around to reconfirm that the café was empty. “Remember the Sparrow divorce? I was telling you about it?”

Maggie nodded, leaning forward. She quite liked hearing about Beck’s various cases, though she was sworn to secrecy on the details of them.

“Mrs. Sparrow just keeps making things difficult.”

“What is it this time?”

“The family cat. Myrtle.”

“They both want it?”

“She doesn’t. He does. She doesn’t want him to have it. She’s trying to say that her niece gave them the cat and the cat should go back to the niece instead.”

“Is that true?”

“The niece wrote a letter asking for her cat back. I guess
her
cat gave birth six years ago and Myrtle was one of the kittens. Hank Sparrow doesn’t have a bill of sale or receipt to prove they bought her.”

“So he’s goin’ to lose his pet?” Maggie put a scone on a small white plate and poured Beck a cup of steaming coffee.

“I don’t know yet. Maybe. Probably. It just seems so darned mean spirited.”

“Aye. It is, but…”

“Yeah, I know. If Hank hadn’t cheated on Francine, he’d have an easier time of it.”

“He humiliated her,” said Maggie. “He turned his back on her.”

“But what good does it do to punish him now? They’ve split up. They’re divorcing. Why not part as friends?”

“Maybe she
can’t
be friends. Maybe she wants to know why she wasn’t enough for him. Maybe she wants to hurt him for hurtin’ her.” Maggie paused when she realized her fingers had curled into tight fists and were biting into her palms. “Maybe the niece
should
have the cat.”