03 The Long Road Home Page 8

  Margaret's throat tightened with emotion as she listened to the trucker's disjointed sentences. The outpouring of caring was hard to believe. "Thank you," she said softly.

  Shutting the door, Margaret turned to Magnum, "Are all these gifts from truckers?"

  He nodded, "A few are from people here."

  Placing the rocking chair by the fireplace, Margaret walked into the baby's room and stopped. Against one wall was a changing table, next to it a chest of drawers. The naked bulb had been removed. In its place, a teddy bear lamp with a cream shade, sat on the chest of drawers.

  "I don't believe it," said Margaret softly.

  "The furniture was dropped off at ten this morning," Magnum said, behind her. "Man said his family was complete, and his wife wanted Jack and Gina to have the set."

  Margaret shook her head. She had made up her mind to haunt the garage sales in Garrison for furniture and dig through the things in the storage shed in the backyard of the Inner Man, but this exceeded her hopes.

  Magnum had been busy. The wallpaper border, fixed four feet from the floor, gave the walls the right finishing touch. There was very little, except the trim, left to do.

  Picking up a small paintbrush, Margaret opened the small can of cream paint. The task would be finished in a couple of hours. There was no need to return tonight. Margaret swallowed hard as the memory of her late night picnic with Magnum returned. Having had a taste of fun, she wanted more of it.

  When she finished the window trim, Margaret decided to take a break before tackling the door. Going into the kitchen for a drink of water, she became aware of a sound on the back verandah. Stepping to the screen door, she stopped abruptly. Magnum had his shirt off and was kneeling beside a crib.

  Matt heard her come out and stand behind him.

  "It’s part of the set," he said over his shoulder. "But it needed refinishing."

  It had taken him most of the morning to sand the old varnish off. When finished with a coat of child safe clear sealer, the crib would look better than new. "What do you think?"

  Margaret didn't say anything, and, after a minute, he turned to look at her. Getting to his feet in one lithe movement, he asked, "What's the matter?"

  As tears streamed down her face, Margaret simply shook her head. Matt wiped his hands on the seat of his pants and cupped her face. "Maggie, what's wrong?"

  "I...I'm so happy for Gina and Jack and the baby," she said with a sniff.

  Matt smiled. "Let me get this straight. You cry when you're angry, and you also cry when you're happy. Do you ever cry because you're sad, Margaret?"

  Margaret gave him a watery smile. "I wanted so badly for them to have nice things for the baby."

  "And now they have enough for two babies, maybe even three," Matt said whimsically.

  "I'd forgotten how generous truckers are," Margaret said. "When...when my parents died there were so many truckers who didn't know my parents at the funeral. They said they had heard of the accident and wanted to offer their condolences in person. Some of them collected money and gave it to Aunt Jan for us. When they knew she had started a restaurant, they advertised it by word of mouth. For months, she had people stop in and say they had heard about the place from another trucker."

  Matt turned to look at her, and Margaret saw the surprise in his eyes. "So, we're not all bad?"

  A part of Margaret echoed Matt's amazement, but she had to set the record straight. "I've never had anything against truckers. How could I? It's only their work that is difficult and dangerous."

  He turned away and she thought she heard a small sigh escape him before he said, "And here I thought you were putting your fears behind you."

  "Matt," she said quickly anxious to change the topic. “I'm sorry about what I said last night. I know now you don't want to bowl me over or anything like that."

  Their gazes meshed and Margaret felt excitement replace the relief of her apology.

  "Margaret, you've got your wires crossed again." Laughter warmed his eyes as he placed his hands on her shoulders. "A part of me does want to bowl you over, but it's not something I can plan cold bloodedly. It has to happen spontaneously."

  "Oh." Margaret's heart raced.

  "Have you ever let anything happen spontaneously, Margaret?"

  "Like what?" she asked, unable to unlock her gaze from Matt's.

  "Like this." His mouth brushed over hers. He lifted his head and looked at her. Margaret closed her eyes and moved closer. Matt's lips closed over hers.

  Margaret clung to him as her legs threatened to give way beneath her. Matt's warm mouth felt wonderful; his firm body encompassing hers ignited an ache all over. Margaret slid her arms around his neck; let her fingers run through his hair. Matt hauled her closer.

  The doorbell rang.

  Matt lifted his head and smiled at her. "Another fairy godmother?" he asked with a rueful smile. "I thought they had to pass a course in timing their appearances before they were given their wands. This one must be a drop-out."

  Margaret opened her eyes and looked at him, reluctant to move out of his arms. The thought of a pair of wings, and a wand, being added to the last burly trucker she had seen, made her smile.

  "Where did you learn so much about fairy godmothers?" she asked.

  "Susan's three year old daughter, Melissa Ann," Mat said, "I have to read Cinderella to her every night, when I visit."

  Matt let go of her reluctantly, and went into the house. Margaret lifted a hand to her mouth. Her lips still pulsed with the warmth of Matt's kiss. With a small sigh, she returned to her work.

  I do want to bowl you over, but it's not something I can plan cold bloodedly. It has to happen spontaneously. Like this.

  Dipping her brush in cream paint, Margaret moved to the door, staring at it dreamily. Heat coursed through her veins, and her palms tingled with the memory of the way Matt's bare skin had felt under them. She closed her eyes.

  She was sure Matt would come back to her, that they would continue where they had left off. She waited till she heard the front door shut and Matt's footsteps come down the hall. It took her a minute to realize he had gone past the door.

  What did you expect?

  Margaret swallowed. Matt's action had cooled her thinking quicker than a pitcher of iced water dumped on her head would.

  You enjoyed the kiss but you can't let anything more develop out of it.

  Margaret started moving her brush over the door in even strokes. She didn't want her feelings for Matt to develop into anything more serious. In the long empty months after her parents' death Margaret had realized something. Loving someone exposed one to pain, worry, and the fear of losing them. With the exception of Aunt Jan and Timmy, she didn't want to allow herself to care for anyone else.

  Margaret shook her head to derail the line her thoughts were on.

  It was a good thing Gina was going to her mother’s Monday for three days…it would give the room time to lose the smell of paint.

  "Hi, Timmy!"

  Timmy looked at her and then away as he entered the kitchen and said, "Hi, sis!"

  "Going out?" Margaret bit her lip the minute the question was out. She sounded nosey.

  Timmy nodded. "TJ and I are going bowling and then we plan to grab a pizza. I'll see you around, sis."

  "Sure," said Margaret.

  Her smile faded as soon as the door closed behind her brother. Things weren't getting better. They were getting worse. She had never had any trouble visualizing Timmy as grown up, but she had never thought of growing up as synonymous with losing him.

  Her hands trembled as she heated up the clam chowder Aunt Jan had prepared that afternoon. The next few weeks weren't going to be the happy family summer she had envisioned.

  Margaret walked over to Joe's after dinner, telling herself all she wanted to do was drop off the linen Aunt Jan had bought for the baby, and check if the window and door trim needed another coat of paint. TJ's mother had dropped by to visit with Aunt Jan, and the two friends
were enjoying their usual gossip over coffee and apple pie.

  As Margaret unlocked the front door, Matt stuck his head out of the kitchen. "You're still here?" Margaret asked in surprise.

  He nodded. "I wanted to finish the crib today. I have a busy day at the truck stop tomorrow. Come and see how you like it."

  Yesterday he’d wanted to explain to her the kiss meant something to him, that it wasn't simply an experiment, but fear had stopped him. His response to Margaret Browning was stronger than any he had experienced with any other woman. He couldn't understand why. All he knew was he had to take it slow.

  "It's beautiful," said Margaret softly.

  It had a hard to beat patina that would be safe for the baby.

  "Are you in a rush to return, or can you stay? I've got soda in the refrigerator, and we could sit out here for a while," Matt suggested as he put away all his things in a red tool box.

  The heat of the September day had given way to a perfect evening. Far away, crickets conducted an evening symphony. A breeze lifted the loose curls at Margaret's neck, and she nodded, "Just for a little while."

  Margaret wet her lips as Matt went inside.

  Remember, he's a trucker at heart. You don't want to feel like this about him.

  Feel like what?

  Confused, restless, eager.

  There's nothing wrong with simply enjoying the man's company, is there?

  Matt returned with the sodas to sit down close to her on the back step, without actually touching her. She smelled of summer roses, the kind he had in his garden. She had changed from shorts and a top into a dress. The square neckline emphasized her long, graceful neck. Her hair was tied back in its usual pony tail and the urge to crush his mouth against the loose tendrils at her neck was a powerful one. The cold can of soda in Matt's hand, was at odds with the heat inside him. Beside him, he heard the little sigh Margaret gave.

  "Tired?" Matt asked.

  "Not really. Just content. I'd forgotten how nice summer evenings could be in Inchwater. Washington gets humid in the summer."

  "Are you happy you came home, Margaret?"

  She nodded. "Yes. Aunt Jan would never have told me how things were with her if I hadn't come home to see for myself. Now I can make sure she doesn't do too much. She is looking so much better since you found those two women to help her. How did you manage that?"

  "It wasn't hard to get word out that Janet is a good employer. Does she always give away more than she sells?"

  Margaret nodded. "Yes. You know that old saying: it's not giving that empties the purse? Well, I don't know who coined it, but Aunt Jan definitely proved it right. She has more friends than I can count."

  "You've taken after her, haven't you Margaret?" Matt said.

  Margaret decided it was time to change the subject. "Aunt Jan said to thank you for the roses you sent her this morning."

  "It was my pleasure. Janet was very kind to me, when I first came to Inchwater. She encouraged me to make up my mind about having a truck stop here. I think you were very lucky to have her around while you were growing up."

  Margaret nodded. "We were. I remember once when someone at school made fun of us for being orphans. I came home in tears. Aunt Jan told us we may not have parents which, technically speaking, did make us orphans; but we had her, and she was two parents rolled into one. She could spank as hard as any Daddy, love as much as any Mom. She told Timmy and me, we were lucky. Most kids had to listen to two grown-ups, but we only had to listen to her. She never let us feel sorry for ourselves."

  Lifting her can, Margaret took a sip of her soda. Turning toward Matt, she was taken aback by his absolute stillness. "Matt, how was your childhood?"

  "Terrible." He stared into the distance, his expression bleak. "I don't think you want to hear about it."

  Something about the way he looked made her say softly, "Tell me."

  The sound of the can being crushed in Matt's hand made her jump. "Anger ruled my childhood, Margaret. My earliest memory is of my mother and father shouting at each other. They both smelled of liquor all the time, and they were always angry. She used to throw things when she was mad. When she left, I was actually relieved for a while because the house was quiet without her. Susan, Patricia, and I were cared for by an army of servants, and, as long as we stayed out of my father's way, we could have anything we wanted."

  The sun sank lower, bathing the back porch in the orange-gold light of pre-dusk. Margaret didn't remove her gaze from Matt's face.

  "Each time my father got married, he told us kids we would be a happy family, that he was doing this to give us a mother. The pattern was repeated twice, before I realized nothing was going to change. None of the women cared about us kids. As I grew older, I realized not one of them cared for my father either, only for what he could give them." Matt's laugh held no humor. "I grew up thinking love was a word a woman tossed at a man to get her own way."

  "That's terrible," said Margaret quietly.

  "I've never loved anyone. To me, loving someone means handing over control of your life to them and I don't think I can ever trust anyone enough to do that. So, you see, I have my own personal cage, Margaret, one that has made it impossible for me to trust any woman emotionally."

  Margaret swallowed the lump in her throat, not sure what to say. Inane words couldn't heal Matt's mental wounds. She hadn't been through what he had...she could only guess at the extent of his pain. Reaching for Matt's hand where it rested on his knee, Margaret covered it with her own. After a while, he turned his hand upwards and linked his fingers through hers. They sat there in silence, while darkness ushered in the stars.

  A week later, Margaret sat across the kitchen table from Aunt Jan. On top of the stove bubbled a huge pot of stew. It had taken the last hour to prepare the vegetables and meat for it, and the aroma was just beginning to seep into the kitchen. Annie, the assistant cook, had stepped out for her break, and Margaret poured coffee into two mugs, "I'm going over to Gina's after lunch. Do you want me to take anything over?"

  Aunt Jan nodded. "I'll give you some stew for Gina, and some for Joe. I'm glad her parents and Jack's, come over often to visit these days."

  Gina’s visit home had done some good. Both grandmothers had fallen in love with Mikki.

  "Gina's worried about Jack. She says he's very quiet around her."

  Aunt Jan's brow wrinkled in thought. "I wonder what's wrong. They were so happy before the baby got here."

  "Jack's taking Gina out to dinner tonight, and she plans on talking to him then," said Margaret. "I'm going to set her hair for her this afternoon."

  "Margaret, are you enjoying your vacation?"

  "Very much," Margaret said firmly. She could sense the anxiety behind Aunt Jan's question.

  There was always something to do. In the mornings, Margaret helped Aunt Jan in the kitchen. Since Gina and Mikki had come home, Margaret spent part of every afternoon with them. In the evenings she read, or worked on a new dress she was making. The change of pace from the demands of her job was just what she needed. If only things were better between Timmy and her, Margaret's happiness would be complete.

  A picture of Matt flashed into her mind.

  Not quite complete. She wanted something more now since that evening Matt had opened up to her and yet she didn’t. The turmoil inside her, Margaret told herself would subside when she was back in Washington DC.

  Aunt Jan sighed. "I'm glad. There's nothing worse than boredom."

  "Remember what you told Timmy and me when we were younger?" Margaret reminded her aunt. "Only boring people complain of boredom."

  Aunt Jan smiled as she got to her feet, pleased by her niece's words. "I'm glad you decided to come home, Margaret," she said.

  Janet had let Margaret think things at the restaurant were getting her down, knowing concern would bring her niece home. Once she had gotten to know Matthew Magnum Janet had decided nothing else would do but Margaret and Matt should meet. She had done her bit, bringing them toge
ther. The rest, she felt, was up to them.

  Margaret's thoughts turned to Matt as she set the kitchen table for the evening meal. The last time she had seen him had been at the grocery store, the day after he had finished the crib. He had mentioned he would be away in Los Angeles for a while, and she had nodded casually. A week had gone by, and there was still no sign of him.

  Margaret told herself Matt's departure had come at the right time. The last few days she had thought things out carefully and decided he was dangerous to the self-control she had cultivated so carefully over the years. The sensations Matt aroused in her was a result of her lack of experience with men. Just because Matthew Magnum qualified for Kissing Champion of the World was no reason to view him through rose colored glasses suddenly. Every day, since he had left, Margaret added a new line to her defense of why she should have nothing more to do with Matthew Magnum.

  Matt's involvement with trucking was enough reason for her not to have anything more to do with him. Remembering truckers were nice people didn't alter the fact that the work they did was stressful and dangerous. She could never allow herself to fall in love with a trucker.

  Margaret raised a hand to her mouth. What was she thinking of? She did not want to fall in love with anyone, period. Love left one wide open to pain. Margaret lined up her reasons carefully. She had to strengthen her defenses before Matt's return, remind herself of the lessons the past had taught her.

  "It's Aunt Jan's night with her International Food Club isn't it?" asked Timmy, coming into the kitchen. Shower fresh, hair neatly slicked back, he looked very grown up. "Do we have to eat green noodles and sushi tonight?”

  "No." Margaret smiled at her brother. The members of Aunt Jan's club experimented with dishes from different countries each month. "This is Italian month. We've got lasagna for dinner."

  "Oh good!" Timmy handed her his plate, and she placed a generous helping on it, as he helped himself to the salad. "Going out, sis?"