My Way Back to You (Harlequin Large Print Super Romance) (23 page)

“Don’t bring up marriage to me again.” God, she was suffocating, gasping for air. “Ever,” she croaked.

“I love you. You love me. We were brought back together for a reason—”

“And now that reason is
gone
.” The last word gurgled on a cry of anguish, and she didn’t try to stanch the tears. “Russ is grown and well on his way to being on his own. There’s no reason for you and me to ever have any interaction again. We’re done. Forever this time.”

“Mags...” Jeff’s fingers buried into the hair at the top of his head.

“Please, Jeff.” Her heart was cracking, crumbling into little pieces. She lowered her voice to a plea. “Pack your things. Go back to California, and let me put what’s left of my life back together.”

The misery in his eyes would torment her for days to come, she knew, but she didn’t flinch.

It was all part of this devastating loss.

She wasn’t sure why the miscarriage happened—what she’d done to cause it...or deserve it—but there must’ve been something.

Jeff turned away and went upstairs to get his things.

* * *

L
ATE
M
ONDAY
WASN
’
T
prime time for the business traveler, so Jeff managed to easily book a flight for that evening. Maggie took him to the airport in Paducah—a forty-five-minute drive of excruciatingly quiet torture, even though so much needed to be said.

What was the use? She was in no shape to hear anything he had to say, and the things he wanted to say bounced from too flimsy to too overbearing.

Neither were right.

He had her heart...she’d admitted that. He simply wasn’t someone who could make her happy.

Was that even possible...for the person you love most in the world to be the same one you made the most miserable?

He spent the time in the air replaying the dilemma in his mind. But by the time he’d reached San Diego, he was no closer to a solution.

He pulled his luggage into his bedroom, not stopping at the bed even though exhaustion was begging him to lie down. He went to the balcony and scanned the sky for his baby girl’s star, longing to glimpse a symbol of hope to combat the despair banging on the door of his soul.

No stars—all drowned out by the fake light that men use to try to find their way through the world’s darkness. Not even a moon tonight. It had moved on to shine on other people—other lovers who would appreciate and understand the significance of its glow.

Turning his back on the world outside, he crept back into his bedroom, undressing as he went, letting his clothes stay where they fell.

He jerked back the covers and crawled into bed, praying for sleep...with no dreams.

CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE

E
LI
PRESSED
THE
button to turn off the book he and Rosemary had been listening to and pointed to the blue sign welcoming them back to Kentucky. “Won’t be long now.”

“Home’s going to look good.” Rosemary reached her arms over her head and stretched the stiffness out of her back. She’d been so enthralled in the audio book she’d hardly moved for over a hundred miles. “But give me a couple of days, and I’ll be ready to go again.” Relaxing back into the seat, she marveled at the change in the trees since they’d left. Everything had gone from summer green to autumn red and gold in less than two weeks. “We’ve got some tales to share, don’t we?” She rolled her head toward the driver’s seat again. Her neck muscles moved easily, all the tension that had locked them in place two months ago was gone.

Eli’s smile sent a wave of warmth through her. “Be sure and share all our sex adventures with Sue Marsden, too. It’s time I got back my Casanova reputation.”

“Pfft. You old coot.” She shook her head and rolled her eyes. “You haven’t been a Casa since the Nova was a new model of car.”

“That so?”

“That’s right.” She tilted her head coyly. “But be nice, and I just might mention how well you handled your big rig.” That garnered a laugh from him, which egged her on. “Yeah, I heard all you men talking around the campfires. These motor homes are just another phallic symbol to you guys, aren’t they? Y’all stand around boasting about who’s got the biggest and the best equipped. And you make fun of the guys who pull in and park with those little bitty rigs.” She held up a hand and spread her finger and thumb about an inch apart.

“Better quit talking dirty like that, or I’ll pull ’er over and haul you back to the bedroom and have my way with you again.” He threw a thumb over his shoulder.

The suggestion sent a scamper of excitement down her spine. He’d done exactly that a couple of days ago somewhere in the middle of Texas. “Promise?” she taunted.

He faked a shudder. “Whoo! It’s good to have my Rosie back.”

“It’s good to be back.” She blew a kiss his direction.

They’d stayed at a campground an hour south of Nashville last night, stopping earlier in the day than they’d planned. It wouldn’t have been a bad drive to come on home, but neither of them was overly anxious for their first vacation to come to an end. But now, the closer they got to home, the more excited she grew to see the trees on their own front lawn.

“You given any more thought to full-timing?”

She’d done a lot of thinking about it, actually. Every campground they stayed in had more than a few couples their age who’d sold their homes and taken to the road.

“Honestly?” She watched his face, bracing herself for his show of disappointment. “I don’t think it’s right for me.”

He wrinkled his nose. “Me, neither.”

Her cheek muscles relaxed again. “But I wouldn’t mind wintering in Arizona—”

“Or Florida,” he suggested.

“Anyplace warm,” she agreed.

“And we could go north during the summer. Maybe even explore Canada. Take three months to visit Alaska.”

Rosemary’s head whirled with the possibility of seeing places she’d only dreamed of.

“Spring and fall in Kentucky, and summer and winter wherever our hearts’ desires take us? Heady stuff, Rosie.”

“The desire of my heart is wherever you are, Eli.” She held out her hand, and he let go of the steering wheel long enough to squeeze it three times.

I love you.

He winked at her and let go, turning his satisfied smile back to the road. “Heady stuff, Rosie—just like I said.”

A particularly spectacular sugar maple tree shimmered fiery red in the sunlight. Maggie’s yard was full of sugar maples—they must be in full glory right now.

“Did you tell Maggie we were coming back a day early?”

That Eli’s thoughts coincided with her own no longer surprised her. They’d been together so long, sometimes they even finished sentences that the other started. “No, I didn’t want her fretting if we decided to stop somewhere tonight. I’ll just run over and surprise her when we get home.”

Looking back over the past couple of months, Rosemary realized she’d been hard on her daughter. The things Eli said about Jeff and Maggie needing to be together weighed heavy on her mind. She wasn’t sure she agreed with him. But if Maggie’s future turned out to include Jeff Wells, Rosemary would just keep her mouth shut...which shouldn’t be too hard considering her jaw muscles were already aching from being clenched merely at the thought of it.

* * *

M
AGGIE
SQUEEZED
THE
steering wheel, breathing in through her nose, out through her mouth. She’d come this far—she could hold it together one more mile.

Thank heavens, the woman had been her last client of the day, because when she excitedly announced she was pregnant with her second child—
a baby girl
—Maggie had almost lost it on the spot.

Somehow she’d managed a smile and congratulations, but it had taken every ounce of grit she held in reserve. Now she felt depleted...and defeated.

She just wanted to get home and crawl into bed...and cry. God, she’d done a lot of that lately. One minute, she’d be fine, and the next an emotional wrecking ball would slam into her, demolishing her facade, revealing the empty room inside.

“Your hormones might be all over the place for a while,” Dr. Donovan had warned. “And your emotions might follow along.”

“You think?” Maggie murmured to the dashboard.

The past week had been one of the strangest of her life. She was so, so tired, yet sleep would slip from her grasp in a matter of only a few minutes. So, instead of resting as per the doctor’s orders, she spent most nights wandering around the house in a kind of stupor—spending inordinate amounts of time in Russ’s room doing nothing. She’d just sit, drawing some comfort by telling herself she’d protected one child enough to see him to adulthood, which always led to chastising herself for not being able to do it again.

Eating seemed unnecessary as she never really experienced hunger these days. Oh, she could sometimes get down a half sandwich that Emmy thrust upon her, or a bowl of soup, but nothing tasted good. Nothing tasted at all.

People asked if she’d lost weight, and it would run through her head that she’d lost a hundred-and-seventy-five pounds—the combined weight of the baby and Jeff. Sometimes she felt as though she carried the weight of the world, and sometimes she felt empty inside, like her heart and everything else had abandoned her along with Jeff and the baby.

Of course, Jeff hadn’t abandoned her this time—she’d pushed him out of her heart and locked the door. When she’d nod off, succumbing to exhaustion, it was he who came tapping at the windows, the thief who stole her hours of rest.

She made the turn into her driveway, moving slowly to take in the changes in her yard since this morning. The green had disappeared from the maples. They’d donned their autumn finery, thumbing their noses at the oaks, which were only beginning to wrap themselves in their dull brown cloaks. As she pulled into the garage, the large white ash at the far side of the house caught her eye, and the sight broke her heart.

It was bare—all the leaves it had given life to and nurtured and clung to so tightly had broken loose and were whirling away on the breeze.

The poor mother ash could do nothing but watch them go, her branches waving goodbye.

Maggie’s fragile heart broke open as she sat in the garage, too tired to wrestle with the weight of the car door yet. She braced her arm across the steering wheel and, leaning her forehead against it, emptied her soul of its misery, knowing it was a temporary fix but unable to stop the tears despite their futility.

A cold breeze slapped the side of her face.

“Maggie? What in the world’s wrong with you?”

Maggie saw the blurred image of her mom standing beside her with the driver’s side door opened wide. Maggie shook her head.

A hand touched her back softly at first, but then shook her, as if Mom was trying to wake her up. “Has something happened to Russ?”

“No,” Maggie croaked. Leaning back, she brushed her sleeve down her face.

“It’s Jeff, isn’t it?”

Maggie heard the accusation in her mom’s tone, and she paused to think on that before she spoke, staring at the rakes and shovels hanging on the wall of the garage. “No, it’s not Jeff, and you need to stop blaming him.” She answered slowly...and honestly, turning her head to meet her mom’s hard glare directly. “It’s me. It’s always been me.”

* * *

E
VERY
MUSCLE
FIBER
in Rosemary’s body contracted at her daughter’s answer, and her blood turned to ice. “What do you mean, it’s you? Are...are you ill?”

Please not my baby, too. We just got through Eli.

Maggie shook her head. “No.” She scrubbed her hand down her face, obviously fighting to stifle the sobs, which visibly shook her chest. “I’m not sick.”

Rosemary waited. If Russ was okay and Maggie wasn’t sick, she could be patient.

Her daughter leaned over and grabbed a handful of tissues from the box on the floor of the passenger side. She pressed them against her face, blew her nose and then took a gulp of air. “Let’s go in,” she said at last. “I have some things I need to tell you.”

The cryptic tone shot another round of apprehension through Rosemary’s system, and she started to tremble. Maggie hadn’t confided in her in years. If she was doing it now, there must be something bad going on. She stepped back out of the way, noticing the gauntness of Maggie’s features, and reminded herself her daughter had said she wasn’t sick.

Was it the salon? Business always looked good when she dropped in, but was that a true indication?

“I thought you wouldn’t be home until tomorrow,” Maggie said, and the vacant tone sent a chill down Rosemary’s spine.

“We made better time than we expected.”

A light flicked on, and the garage door started its descent. “Did you have a good time?”

“Wonderful.” Rosemary was in no mood to talk about the trip right then. The garage door hit the floor with a dull thud that reverberated in her stomach.

They made the rest of the journey to the house in silence.

Maggie was a persnickety housekeeper, so the sight of even a few dirty dishes sitting on the counter caused Rosemary’s jaw to drop when they entered the kitchen. A bowl of cereal that looked as if it hadn’t been touched sat next to the sink along with the cereal box—opened—and a carton of milk.

Maggie gave a heavy sigh as she walked over to the sink and proceeded to pour the contents of the bowl and the nearly full carton down the drain. “Sit down, Mom,” she said over her shoulder as she turned on the water and flipped on the garbage disposal. “I want to start at the very beginning, so this may take a while.”

The beginning of what?

Rosemary took a seat and clasped her hands on the table to quell her trembling.

The grinding stopped, and when Maggie turned off the water, the kitchen went eerily quiet for a few seconds before Maggie spoke. “I was pregnant with Jeff’s baby, but I miscarried last week.” Her voice wobbled its way through the sentence.

The information dropped into Rosemary’s brain like a stone from a skyscraper. It traveled through her head and stopped in her throat before finally making its way to the pit of her stomach. She squinted in disbelief. “Maggie?” She tilted her head. “You had a miscarriage...last week while we were gone?”

Maggie nodded, her chin quivering on the breath she drew.

Rosemary stood and approached her daughter slowly, unsure of her own stability at the moment. But her arms found their strength when they encircled Maggie, who wept softly against her shoulder.

She couldn’t hold back her own tears, either—those spawned of sorrow for her daughter and guilt she hadn’t been here during this sad time. “How far along were you?”

“Eight weeks. DNA tests determined she was a girl.”

“Oh, precious.” Rosemary rocked her daughter back and forth, smoothing her hair, patting her back, trying to console the inconsolable. “I’m so sorry I wasn’t here for you. So, so sorry.”

“There’s nothing you could’ve done.”

“But I could’ve been there for you.” Panic jolted through Rosemary’s system. “Were you alone?”

Maggie’s head shook her shoulder. “Emmy took me to the hospital. They did a D and C and kept me overnight. Jeff was there when I woke up.”

“Had you already told him?”

Maggie’s sobs ebbed to sniffles, and she pulled away to sit down. “Yeah. He knew. That trip to Vegas...I didn’t actually go. I went to California to tell him I was pregnant.”

A flicker of irritation flared in Rosemary’s stomach. “How could you not have told
me
?”

“Jeff needed to know first. And we planned to tell Russ together when he came home for Thanksgiving, and
then
everybody else.”

The logical progression made sense and allowed Rosemary to ignore the petty jealousy burning in her belly. “Was Jeff okay? I mean, how did he take the news?”

A flicker of a smile played at Maggie’s lips and her eyes took on a faraway look as if focusing on something over Rosemary’s shoulder. “He was wonderful. Excited. He wanted me to move out there. Asked me to marry him.”

Marry him? Again? Oh, dear Lord.
Rosemary bit her tongue.

“Of course, I couldn’t. He got trapped into marriage with me the first time. I couldn’t do that to him again.”

“I wouldn’t call it entrapment.”
But apparently Jeff did.
Anger prickled her skin at the thought.

Maggie shrugged and her eyes drifted back to Rosemary’s, locking in place. “He was really upset about the miscarriage and very sweet and supportive. He tried to take care of me, but I didn’t want him to. I just wanted to be alone.” She squeezed her eyes shut. “I was horrible to him. Wouldn’t let him touch me.”

“That’s understandable. You were grieving.”

Maggie opened her eyes, and her face contorted with pain. “He was grieving, too,” she said softly. “And I wanted to hold him...wanted him to hold me. But I couldn’t.” She ran her fingers through her hair and squeezed the roots. “He said he loved me...”