A Love Surrendered (40 page)

A sob broke from Annie’s throat as she put a hand to her mouth. “Maggie, please—your life is in California now, and you’re engaged . . .”

Maggie hiked her chin, but it didn’t stop the tears that bled from her eyes. “
Was
engaged—Gregory broke it off. Apparently I’m not worthy of his love any more than Steven’s.”

“That’s not true,” Steven said. He clutched her arms, his tone rough with emotion. “I loved you so much it took three years to get over you, Maggie, but both of us have moved on.”

“Yes, well, I guess we have my sister to thank for that.”

“Maggie!” Glory stood on the landing in her nightgown, a flush in her face and curls bobbing as she flew down the steps. Flapping through the foyer in her bare feet, she slammed into Maggie’s legs with such force that Steven had to steady her. “You came, you came!” she shouted, “Oh, Maggie, I missed you so much!”

Wiping the tears from her face, Maggie hefted Glory into her arms, squeezing with all her might. “Oh, honey, I missed you too, so much that I came home early to spend lots of time.”

“Yay!” Glory shouted. “And you’re just in time for our pajama party with Aunt Eleanor.” She pressed rosebud lips to Maggie’s. “With me and Annie.” She giggled and put a hand to her mouth, winking at Steven. “But not Steven.”

Maggie’s smile faded. Her watery gaze met his. “No, not Steven . . . ,” she whispered.

Heart writhing, Annie tugged Glory from Maggie’s arms.
“Come on, munchkin, we’ll go upstairs and wait for Maggie while she and Steven talk.”

“Annie, no . . .” Steven’s tone was brusque.

“But why do they have to talk?” Glory wanted to know, reaching her arms out to give Steven a good night kiss. He stroked her cheek before she gave him a sweet little peck.

“Because Steven and Maggie know each other really well, and they have a lot to catch up on,” Annie said, avoiding Steven’s eyes.

“Annie, wait . . .” Steven took a step forward.

“No,” she whispered, forcing her gaze to his. Tears welled at the confusion in his face, and she quickly blinked to ward them off. “You two have a lot of air to clear.” She glanced at Maggie, stomach cramping at the coldness she saw. “As do I with my sister.” Her voice wavered. “I’m sick inside, Maggie, for hurting you like this, and if I could take it all back, I would.”

“Annie, please, this will all work out . . .” Steven reached for her arm, but Annie backed away, easing toward the staircase while she cuddled Glory.

“I know it will, Steven, one way or the other—but not till you two talk.” Moisture pricked as she stared, heart breaking over the pain she’d caused. “Maggie, we’ll see you upstairs.” Avoiding Steven’s gaze, she fled with Glory, pausing on the landing with tears in her eyes. “Good night, Steven,” she called, his face little more than a blur. Sobs heaved in her chest.
And maybe goodbye.

Steven turned the engine off, stomach churning as much as the roiling whitecaps on the moonless waters of Massachusetts Bay. The last thing he wanted was to be sitting in a car with Maggie at Ocean Pier, one of their favorite haunts, dredging up memories he didn’t want to recall with a woman he couldn’t forget. The crashing of the waves on the shore filled the silence as he stared straight ahead, eyes fixed on the distant
lights of the
Romance
, a steamer returning from a day trip to the shores of Cape Cod. The blare of the
Romance
’s whistle pierced the night, issuing a shrill warning to other vessels to ward off shipwrecks during nights that were black as death.

How fitting.
Steven’s lips compressed. When his own romance with Annie sailed uncertain waters—waters that could sink his hopes as well as crash his heart upon the rocks.

He heard Maggie shift in the seat beside him, and every muscle tensed. It was hard enough being this close with the scent of her perfume and that of the sea luring him back to a time when her body was an addiction and her lips a drug. Heaven help him, he couldn’t look at her too, knowing she’d once been his, full lips that owned him and the face of an angel—seduction with pale blue eyes. He may have relented in bringing her here so they could talk, but he refused to look at her. His jaw stiffened. Looking at Maggie had never produced much talk.

“You’re not going to melt into the seat if you look at me,” she said softly.

A tic twitched in his cheek as he focused ahead, unwilling to give her a chance to reel him in. Not when his pulse was sprinting overtime and his breathing as jagged as the rocks on the shore. “What are we doing here, Maggie? I can’t imagine we have a lot to say.”

Her melancholy laugh set him on edge. “But then we never really did have a lot to say, did we, Steven?” she whispered, her tone as softly suggestive as the curves beneath her satin blouse.

His temper heated along with his skin. “I like your sister a lot, Maggie, and I don’t want you making trouble.”

“You liked me a lot once too, remember?” A vulnerability that pricked at his heart tempered her tone. “And we even thought it was love.”

He closed his eyes, hoping to shut out the pull she still had. He could feel it even now—that magnetic attraction that had spelled his doom—and sweat beaded the back of his neck. “If it was love, Maggie,” he whispered, “then it’s gone.”

“I don’t believe that.”

He looked at her then and saw it—the lost little girl who’d drawn him in like a moth to flame, buried deep beneath the façade of a self-assured woman. There was tragedy in those blue eyes that made his heart ache and then something else that caused it to thud. He quickly licked his lips, mouth going dry when her eyes followed the motion. Palms sweating, he reached to crank the ignition, only to stop when she placed her hand over his.

“Please,” she said, her voice a pained whisper, “don’t shut me out, Steven. I’ve already had enough heartbreak to last a lifetime.”

He stared at the hand over his for several seconds before trailing up to her face, and when his throat constricted, he suspected he still had feelings for her. Slumping back in the seat, he put a hand to his eyes. “What do you want from me, Maggie?”

She didn’t answer right away, but when she did, her voice trembled. “I . . . need to know . . . if you still care at all . . .”

The question sucked the air from his lungs. Did he? Did dreams count, and memories that haunted his soul? Or pulse rate or shallow breaths or one’s mind in a fog? Steven swallowed hard, reluctant to respond, afraid voicing it would etch it in stone.

He jolted at the touch of her hand. “I have to know, Steven . . . if there’s anything left.”

“Why?” His voice was harsher than intended. “We were no good for each other, Maggie, so why even rehash it?”

“Because my life’s in pieces, and I need to know.” Her tone was bleeding.

Like his heart. He turned, eyes burning as he stared and fist clenched on the seat. Sucking in a deep breath, he pinched the bridge of his nose, seconds ticking away like heartbeats until he finally exhaled. “Yes,” he said quietly, “but why does it matter?”

She took his hand in her own, kneading his fingers, grazing his palm, and his eyelids weighted closed at the heat of
her touch. “Because that’s what I came back to find out,” she whispered, and before he could open his eyes, her lips swayed against his.

“Aw, Maggie . . .” His voice was a hoarse whisper. “Why are you doing this?” But he knew exactly why and he was loathe to stop, bewitched by the familiar taste of her mouth, the scent of her body, the touch of her skin. It all came flooding back and he found himself responding with a desire he hadn’t expected, his body humming as she deepened her kiss.

He leadeth me in the paths of righteousness for his name’s sake.

He thought of Annie and his promise to God, and his body went to stone. “I can’t do this,” he said, his breathing as ragged as his heart. Chest heaving, he turned the ignition and gunned the engine, hands shaking as he put the car into gear.

“Steven, please—we need to talk . . .”

“We’re done talking, Maggie, and anything else you have in mind.” With a grind of the gears, he gunned down Atlantic Avenue, his temper resurging once again.

Her words were threaded with fear. “She really dug her claws in, didn’t she?”

“Nobody’s got claws in me, Mags, least of all you.” He turned with a squeal of tires.

“Really? There’s still something between us, Steven, why deny it?”

He slid her a hard gaze. “I don’t deny it, I just don’t want it anymore.”

“Because of Suz?” she whispered, and he could tell from the tremble in her tone that his answer would crush her.

He chose to ignore it, grateful her aunt’s house loomed at the end of the street. Lips clamped, he sped up, silent until he finally eased in next to the curb. Slamming the stick shift into gear, he kept the engine running and glanced over, a cramp in his chest. “I never meant to hurt you, Maggie,” he whispered, “I hope you know that.”

Her soulful look slashed at his heart. “I know, Steven. You
were torn between your father and me back then. I guess I just hoped things might be different now, you know?”

His eyes softened. “I know. And things are different, just not in the way you want.” He reached to fondle a strand of her hair. “I’ll never stop caring about you, Maggie. You were my first love, and a man never forgets that.”

“You and Suz,” she whispered, “is it serious?”

He studied her profile, beautiful and strong and yet weighted with a sadness that plucked at his heart. “It could be,” he said quietly, “when you leave again.”

“And if I don’t?” She turned to stare at him and he studied her in the soft glow of the streetlamp, almost wishing things could be different.

He drew in a deep breath and took her hand in his to skim her knuckles with his thumb. “It’s over, Maggie,” he whispered, the pain in his tone matching that in her eyes. “Either way.”

“Do you love her?” Her voice was as fragile as the question.

Did he? He sighed. Probably, or at least well on his way. But Maggie didn’t need that right now. “Annie and I are good friends,” he hedged, “dating just a few months, that’s all.”

“Is that a yes . . . or a no?”

He exhaled his frustration. “No . . . maybe . . . I don’t know,” he said, unwilling to hurt her. “All I do know is that I want to see where it takes us, which means you and I can’t be.”

“Not necessarily,” she said, her voice barely a whisper, and with the utmost tenderness, she reached to cup his face with her hand, giving him the softest of kisses.

He remained completely still as she kissed him, eyes closed while a familiar warmth seeped through his body, and then with a gentle hand to her face, he grazed her jaw. “I want to be your friend, Maggie, because I still care about you. But you need to know that as lovers, the past is dead and gone.”

With a quiver of her chin she shook her head while tears spilled haphazardly down her cheeks. “Oh, Steven . . . ,” she said softly, taking his hand in hers. “Not all of it.” A muscle
jerked in her throat as she stared with agony in her eyes. “We have a child.”

It felt like a migraine coming on, this strange buzzing that traveled his body, numbing his brain, telling him it couldn’t be true. Did she mean the miscarriage their senior year? He groped in his mind for the last time he and Maggie had made love, and knew it was impossible. She hadn’t been pregnant the six months before she left. His heart beat wildly in his chest. Had she? “No,” he said in a stupor, certain any baby couldn’t be his. “It’s impossible. You were fine until you left for California after graduation. I saw you.”

Sympathy gleamed wet in her eyes. “Not after graduation, Steven,” she whispered, “the summer of sophomore year, after we broke up and I lived with my godmother in California.”

He blinked, remembering the awful breakup they’d had, the hateful words that had been spoken, and Maggie running away to attend school at UCLA. It had been the rawest pain he’d ever experienced, living without her, purging his system of her smiles, her love, the meaning she’d brought to his life. He felt the keen betrayal of her departure even now, and how it had pushed him into the arms of Erica, seeking solace that never came. And then Maggie had returned with a vengeance the summer of junior year and they picked up where they’d left off . . . until it finally ended before Thanksgiving senior year in an argument over his father.

“I don’t understand . . . ,” he said faintly, barely spoken aloud. “W-what are you saying?”

She took his hand once again, and he let her, too numb to move. “I’m saying I went to California because I was pregnant, Steven, not because I was running away from you.” Her head bowed, and when she continued, her voice seemed far away, like a distant memory neither wanted to remember. “Mama forced me to stay with my godmother because Daddy was a pastor, and she didn’t want anyone to know.” A shiver traveled from her body to his. Instinctively, he pulled her close, staring straight ahead as their unsteady breathing fogged
both the windows and his mind. “Mama begged me to give her up, so I did.”

His leaden lids shuddered closed as his heart wrenched in his chest.
God forgive me, I have a daughter.
“Do you . . . ,” a painful mix of shame and hurt convulsed in his throat, cracking his voice, “know anything about her?” he whispered, terrified to know, but more so not to.