Heat Wave (Riders Up) (16 page)

With her energy
drained, she stared down the empty road. Could he be right? Had she merely used
him to see if she could still attract a man? Had she misread what she thought
were signs of love—his and hers? Ed wasn’t big on talk. She often was left to
read between the lines. Well, reading between these lines wasn’t difficult at
all—he didn’t want her anymore.

Squaring her
shoulders, Maggie marched toward the house. She’d move on. She’d always been
able to pull herself together after a crisis. It was doubtful he’d want to
continue working for her. Not that she wanted or needed him. She’d have to find
someone else to help with the horses.

Going through the
doorway leading into the kitchen, Maggie sank to the floor, her newly found
reservoir of determination seriously sapped. It was here where they had first
made love. The kitchen table would never allow her to waltz back to a time
before Ed Harrington as if nothing of incredible import hadn’t transpired on
that table and this floor. She could sell the table, but what about the floor?

She cried until
there were no more tears. How had she screwed up so badly? Moving on would be
extremely difficult. The horses were one thing, but Ed was quite another. She rested
her head in her hands. Whether he loved her or not, she had come to love him
profoundly. And that was the problem. He was meant for her. Her bones still
sang that fact clearly. So how could things get so desperately out of whack so
quickly?

Like a sleepwalker,
the next morning Maggie dragged herself though the chores that had to be done. She
fed the horses, made sure the water tanks contained fresh water, turned out a
couple horses for exercise and rubbed them down afterward. The same routine as
usual—but nothing was normal.

Ed had not come
back, not even for his clothes. She expected he’d do that when he thought she’d
be away.

The kids would be
home sometime in the afternoon. How was she going to explain to them what had
happened when she didn’t really know herself?

Hank had been by to
begin plowing under the parched, stunted corn in the forty acre field bordering
the road. There was no hope left for that crop. The best it could offer now was
fertilizer for next year’s planting, if there was to be a next year planting
and a next year harvest.

She leaned heavily
against the barn door and watched Hank methodically drive the tractor and plow
back and forth turning over the dry soil. Would this heat wave, would this
drought ever end? Other fields might yet yield some kind of crop, but as each
day went by to be followed by yet another parched day, the chances of any
harvest became increasingly remote.

A dry wind blew her
hair but brought no relief from the heat. How long would Mr. Fallon of Con-Ex
Farms wait before returning with a check in his hand? And what about Prater? He
was no doubt praying for the drought to continue. And her brother? Ah, yes, her
lovable brother. What had he said to Ed? He’d probably drop by to gloat before
long.

Maggie rubbed
residual tears from her eyes, questioning her own sanity. Had she put too much
faith in the land? Would the land be her ultimate downfall? No, her family had
survived worse over the decades. She would make it.

“Damn,” she
mumbled, “why couldn’t he stay and work things out?”

CHAPTER ELEVEN

Johnny and Carolyn
ran toward the house loaded down with sleeping bags and duffels. “We’re home!” Johnny
cried, grinning from ear to ear. “Mrs. Murphy didn’t have time to come in.”

Both children
dropped bags and duffels to the floor and ran to hug their mother.

“It’s great to see
you,” Maggie squealed, hugging them. “You look so tan. How was camp? Were your
fingers a problem, Johnny? Was it cooler by the lake? Tell me all about it.”

“Not very,” Johnny said.
“Even the water was warm. But it didn’t matter none. My hand didn’t bother me. Camp
was great! Wait until you see the rocks I found.”

“Have you been
sick, Mom?” Carolyn asked, squinting at her mother. “You look puffy.”

“No,” Maggie said heavily.
“I’m not sick. So tell me everything.”

Peering more
closely at her daughter, Maggie gasped. Four metal studs adorned Carolyn’s left
ear. “My goodness, Carolyn what have you done to your ear?”

“Don’t have a fit,
Mother. All the girls are doing it. Even some of the guys.”

“But we never
talked about it. You could get an infection. This is serious.”

“Mom. It’s my ear. I
can do what I want with it. Besides, the girl who did the piercing knows what
she’s doing. She has five studs in each ear.”

Maggie’s hand flew
to her ear. “Good God.”

“You’re always
telling us not to bring God into things like this. I’m almost fifteen, Mom. I
can do what I want with my own ears.” Carolyn grabbed her duffle and stalked
toward the stairs.

“Please stay,
Carolyn, and tell me about camp. We can discuss this later.

Carolyn’s lower lip
quivered before she dropped her bag and pulled up a chair at the kitchen table.

Maggie looked at
her daughter. How could so much happen in two weeks? Not only did Carolyn have
the studs, she wore so much eye shadow that her eyes almost disappeared.

It took nearly two
hours to hear the highlights of two weeks of camp and to see all the crafts and
memory books. Johnny was more forthcoming than his sister. Maggie wondered what
else her fourteen year old daughter was concealing. They’d never really kept
secrets.

Right. Well, a mother
should keep some secrets from her daughter. She wasn’t so sure it should work
the same the other way around. But then, she hadn’t told her mom about all her
own teenage escapades, either.

“I’m gonna run tell
Ed about camp,” Johnny announced, jumping off his chair. “I’ve missed him, too.”

Maggie nearly
gagged with dread. She reached for her son’s arm as he started to race by. “Ed’s
not here,” she managed to mumble.

“Oh. Did he go to
town?”

“I don’t know.”

“Mom.” Carolyn
straightened her posture. “What aren’t you telling us?”

Maggie shook her
head, fighting desperately for control.

“You two had a
fight, didn’t you?”

Blanching at her
daughter’s accusation, Maggie retorted, “That’s none of your business.”
Great.
Now I’m shutting out my own kids. Get a grip.

“Will he be back? Mom,
will he be back?”

Johnny’s plea
ripped at Maggie’s soul. Tears formed in his eyes. Maggie wished she had an
answer. She desperately wished she could make those tears go away. But she
could only say, “I don’t know, son.”

Carolyn sneered. “What
did you do to send him away?”

The blaming words
didn’t surprise Maggie. Even though somewhat prepared for them, she still
struggled to stay on top of her temper. Her children were shocked and grieving.
She didn’t want them to deny their feelings, but neither did she want to
shoulder the entire blame for their loss.

“I’m sorry, Mom,” Carolyn
muttered. “I didn’t mean to be so crappie.”

“I know, honey. We
all came to depend on Ed. And maybe even love him a bit. But sometimes things
don’t work out the way we hope they will.”

“Well, I’m not
giving up hope yet,” Johnny declared. “He promised he’d teach me how to ride
this winter.”

“I know. We’ll just
have to wait and see what happens.” Maggie stood and gathered her children in a
giant hug. She sensed their reluctance. “We’ll be okay,” she whispered.

While no one
challenged her words, Maggie expected that three doubters stood in that small
circle clinging to each other, and maybe to unrealized dreams.

A half an hour
later, Maggie continued to sniffle while berating herself. She hadn’t handled
the kids’ homecoming and telling them about Ed leaving well at all. But then
she wasn’t handling his running out on them very well, either.

At least the house
sounded normal again. Carolyn was watching music videos on MTV while Johnny
played with a noisy electronic game. Maggie looked down at the larger and
dirtier than usual piles of camp clothes she had readied for the laundry. Yeah,
some things were back to normal.

Maggie glared at
her brother sitting uncomfortably on the chair across from her. She’d had
difficulty not confronting him about Ed all evening, and he knew it. Even now
Brad wouldn’t meet her eyes directly.

He’d come out to
the farm to spend some time with the kids. Both Johnny and Carolyn enjoyed seeing
their uncle. Maggie often marveled at how easy going and humorous her brother
could be with them.

Looking away from
Brad, Maggie traced the upholstery pattern of the davenport with her index
finger. It had been a good evening for the kids. At least for a moment, Johnny
and Carolyn had been able to forget the man who had left without ever saying
goodbye.

Now with the kids
upstairs, Maggie and her brother sat in the living room sparring over the past,
present and future. That was one thing that never changed.

“What did you say
to Harrington that made him leave?”

Brad looked sharply
at her. “What makes you think I did anything to make him go?”

“Because guilt is
written all over your face. And you were shocked to hear how much Carolyn and
Johnny miss Ed.”

A red glow worked
its way up Brad’s neck. When it reached his ears, he cleared his throat. “Well,
I may have said something about him not measuring up to my sister’s standards. And
that you would wake up someday and send him packing. I don’t remember exactly,
but something like that. I guess.” He crossed his arms over his chest. “But I
don’t assume for a moment that I made him leave. He had to be leaning that way
anyhow. Maybe I just nudged him a bit. At first, you know, I thought he was
trying to take advantage of you. A lot of men would do that.”

“Yeah, thanks a
lot. That’s all I need is one more man trying to protect me,” Maggie said
softly, tucking her feet under her. She let out a deep sigh. “No, you didn’t
make him go all by yourself. Ed’s a man who is struggling with his own sense of
self-worth. You just tapped his sorest spot. But he’d been digging at that ache
for days.”

“For what it’s
worth, after hearing from the kids, I’m sorry Harrington left. He must have
been good for them…and for you.” Brad frowned. “You know, sometimes Sis, I wish
you lived on the moon so we wouldn’t have to cross paths at all, and then there
are moments when I wish you lived closer so we all could be more of a family. That’s
what Mom longed for, you know.”

Maggie’s eyes widened.
Had she heard correctly? Was her brother seeking some kind of reconciliation
after all these years? Or was this one more scam to get her to sell?

“I don’t know how
many computer jobs there are in the area, but there must be a lot in Des
Moines, or Chicago, or the Twin Cities.” She smiled, hoping he was genuinely
concerned for her and her children. “Who knows, you might like the Midwest, as
long as you didn’t have to live on a farm.”

“Maybe. Don’t
worry. I wasn’t expecting you to move to California.”

He looked like he wanted
to say more, but he didn’t. Maggie had never seen her brother look so tired. Maybe
he
was
looking for some kind of change.

“Did you ever stop
in and see Templeton?” Maggie didn’t want another fight over money, but they
had to talk about the insurance proceeds.

Brad nodded. “Not
to worry. I think Templeton’s plan of splitting the money evenly between us is
fair and equitable.” He grinned at her knowingly. “You may be surprised to
learn that my rage about the will had much less to do with you than with Dad. We
were compensated equally. They saw to that. But I still resent him, and I’m
sure Mom just went along so as not to make him angry, trying to govern our
lives from the grave.”

Maggie’s eyes
widened as she listened to her brother. “Dad could be quite demanding,” she
acknowledged. “But he was a good man in his own way.”

“Well, I’ve got to
catch an early plane in the morning,” Brad rose to his feet. “The boss seems to
think I’ve been away long enough.”

“Don’t stay away so
long this time,” she said. Their family never had been big on hugs. She wasn’t
about to go that far, though she wished she could discern the emotion
registering in her brother’s eyes. Something had just transpired between them,
spoken or unspoken, that had made a difference. She decided to take a next
step. “You’re always welcome at Thanksgiving or Christmas. The kids would love
to see you.”

“My company has a
contract that brings me to Chicago a fair amount. Maybe I will stop by more
often. I’ll think about it. Sorry if I screwed things up for you and the kids. I
didn’t intend to do that, you know. I just wanted you to get out from under
this albatross,” he said, gesturing at the house. “Just wanted you to sell.”

“I know. But I won’t
sell.” Maggie pursed her lips and laced her fingers at her waist. “You should
know that by now.”

Brad smiled
self-consciously. “Maybe I’m a slow learner. Anyway, good luck, Sis. I think
you’re going to need it.”

“I don’t doubt
that.”

She watched him
step down the porch stairs and walk toward his car. Why hadn’t she asked more
about how he was doing? She had just assumed that he had come to hassle her
like he always had in the past. Contrite was a word she’d never used to
describe her brother. Was he just softening her up?

In any case, Brad hadn’t
chased Ed away. Her brother might have pushed him over the edge, but Ed had
been more than halfway out the door anyway.

She was alone
again. Maggie’s stomach knotted and her heart shrank, but there wasn’t anything
she could do about Ed Harrington if he was bound and determined to leave. She
wouldn’t beg for anyone.

- o -

Ed didn’t blink,
staring at the single shot-glass of whiskey and a stein of beer sitting on a
tiny, circular table. He gripped its pedestal between his knees. The darkened
corner of Mel’s Tavern in Beaverhill provided a welcome hiding place. Almost as
good as a cave.

He’d driven for
hours after leaving the farm—after running as quickly as he possibly could from
that menacing woman. That night was spent in his car. The next morning he’d
poked around Clarion, his hometown.

Apparently, not
only didn’t he have much of a future, he didn’t have much of a past, either. The
building in which he’d grown up no longer existed, long since succumbing to
progress and growth. An elementary school sprawled across half a block where
several mom-and-pop stores and an apartment building had stood. It wasn’t much
of a loss. The town had grown a fair amount, but it still was a small
mid-western town.

Sadly, the train
station was pretty much gone. When he was a kid, he’d sit by the railroad tracks
and count train cars numbering well over a hundred. There’d been a roundhouse
for turning and repairing engines. Both the Rock Island and the Great
Northwestern ran over those tracks. Trains still ran through Clarion, but probably
not nearly as many as in his youth, and it was doubtful that any stopped. Such
was progress. It made him feel like a dinosaur—maybe he should be in a museum.

What the hell did
she want with a broken down dinosaur?

Kind of like the
way a horse would return to its stable when given its head, his truck had led
him back to Beaverhill. He’d have to find a way to slip back into the loft and
pick up his personal items.

He frowned. The
head on the beer had nearly disappeared. Likely it would be warm to the taste
by now. Didn’t really matter; it was beer. It was juice for the despairing. He
knew it well, could savor its taste without even tasting.

Thoughts tumbled
across his brain. He wondered how many hours his dad had spent in bars and
taverns across the Midwest either raising hell or drowning sorrows. How many
hours had he, himself, frittered away in similar places seeking release from
pain? He’d always thought of himself as a hard fisted social drinker, until the
rug was pulled out from under him in Chicago.

Then the booze had
become a bosom pal, not easily ignored or set aside. He hadn’t liked how it ran
his life when time was measured from one drink to the next and fun was a
twenty-four hour happy hour, when work was something to survive until he could
leave for the nearest bar.