Devil Moon (30 page)

He glanced at his watch. Nine o'clock. He didn't know she was such a sack artist. Just then, her porch door opened and Lucifer shot out into the yard, barking and galloping in Phil's direction.

Phil scratched the dog's large head and enjoyed watching him leap into the water. God, he guessed he wanted her dog, too.

"Come on, boy, let's see if we can beg some food."

Phil and Lucifer made a companionable pair heading up the hill to Maddie's door.

* * *

Maddie looked like hell and felt worse. Wrapped in her oldest, rattiest, most comfortable robe, she stood against the kitchen counter, hypnotized by the water dripping from the Mr. Coffee basket into the carafe.

She'd paced the floor during the night, until she couldn't stand anymore. Then she curled up on the couch and fell into troubled sleep seeing Pam's wicked lips.

You dump Phil or he will never see Melissa again.

Could she somehow keep Phil at arm's length enough to make Pam happy? Thank God she hadn't confessed her feelings to him. That would make it all the harder. Somehow she had to figure out a way to allow him to have Melissa in his life, even at the sacrifice of her dreams. Melissa was a young girl who needed a father more than Maddie needed a husband. Maddie had successfully lived a solitary life before and she could do it again. Besides, she'd have the baby. She'd see Phil when he had his visitations. That could be enough couldn't it?

No!
her heart screamed. She wanted Phil in every part of her life. He filled in her gaps, smoothed her sharp edges. She'd turn into a wizened, prune-faced, sex-starved spinster for sure.

"Get a grip, Madeleine," she said for the umpteenth time.

She needed a shower and a huge slice of cake. Maybe she'd alphabetize her spices again. She just needed some time to pull her unraveling ends together and be the stalwart Woodbridge-Harris her mother had raised. Her mother. Oh Lord, her parents would be arriving in four short days.

It was all too much to contemplate. She needed to go to bed. Hovering under her covers seemed like her best move. She'd taken two steps toward the living room when the back door opened.

"Morning, cupcake! Think you can spare a wandering fisherman a cup of coffee?"

Maddie blinked as if seeing a mirage. "Phil? What are you doing here?"

Phil looked taken aback by her less-than-enthusiastic greeting. "Well, I thought maybe we could have breakfast together. I've been fishing in your lake."

"I'm not feeling very well this morning." She clutched her robe.

"Yeah, I can see you're a little under the weather. Here, you sit down and I'll make you some breakfast."

She sighed. "This isn't a good time."

He dragged her to the table and pushed her into a chair. "You just need one of Coach Wilcox's killer omelets."

"I don't think that's going to do it."

But he paid her no mind and began taking apart her kitchen–frying bacon, scrambling eggs, chopping onions, throwing scraps to Lucifer. Cheerfully making a gigantic mess.

He flipped on her radio and tuned it to country, singing along with Billy Ray, acting the most cheerful she had ever seen him. He told her how great the sunrise had been and replayed some of the best moments of the previous night's game.

She wanted to go jump in the lake.

He tucked into his food with gusto, while she pushed the eggs around on her plate, feeling a throbbing headache coming on. When he finished, he set his dishes aside and leaned back into the chair to stare at her. He opened his mouth to say something and then stopped.

He pushed his fingers through his hair. "I've been babbling like my Aunt Fanny and you've been as silent as a Sphinx. Guess I'm a bit nervous. See, I've been thinking, Maddie. We've got a good thing going between us. We get along. We've got a baby coming..."

Maddie sat up straight. She'd been wishing the interminable breakfast would simply end. And now he appeared on the verge of proposing marriage.

She put a hand on his arm. "Don't say it, Phil."

"Now you don't even know what I'm going to say. See, we're good for each other." He covered her hand and looked at her with the innocence of a puppy. "I love you. I've known it for a good little while. You make me happy and I think we'd make a great team. We need each other. We're right together. Oh, hell, Maddie, either shoot me and put me out of my misery or marry me." He released a deep breath. "There, I said it. I think we should get married. What do you say?"

He looked so happy, she wanted to throw up. Her voice came out hoarse. "I can't marry you, Phil. It just wouldn't work."

An expression of shocked pain flashed across his face before it quickly changed to anger. "Oh, I get it. It's one thing to have a roll in the sheets with the football jock, but you wouldn't want to marry him."

"No, no, it's not like that."

"Then what is it? Explain it to me."

Oh God, she wasn't ready for this. She hadn't rehearsed a speech. She crossed her legs and tried to assume an elegant air. "Well, you're from one world and I'm from another and I don't think we're compatible. You're much too messy. I wouldn't want to be picking up your socks and picking out your clothes." Oh yes she would, she really would.

Phil stood up. "Okay, sweetheart, you're too good for me. I get it. An alcoholic, has-been football player isn't your idea of husband material. Well, let me tell you something, babe. You're passing up a good deal."

She knew that. She knew he was the best thing that had ever come along in her whole life. "It wouldn't be a suitable match, that's all. I think you have many fine qualities, but you're just not my type. I hope we can be friends, for the baby's sake."

He grabbed her chin and forced her to look in his face. "This is so much bullshit. You came onto me the other night like it was for keeps. You didn't say it, but I could feel it in your body, see it on your face. You love me, goddamn it! You look me straight in the eye and deny it. Say it. Say 'Phil, I don't love you.' I don't think you can."

Maddie swallowed and dug deep down to a well of strength she didn't know she possessed. She had to make the lie seem true. In a calm and measured voice she said, "Phil…I…don't… love you."

He released her as if he'd been burned, turned on his heel and rushed for the door. She flinched at the slam and closed her eyes. Taking a breath, she opened them again and surveyed the incredible mess he'd made making one small meal.

Standing before the sink was the see-through figure of Grammy Harris. "Pitiful, simply pitiful. You've set the Harris womenfolk back 'bout a hundred years."

Hail, hail, the gang's all here

Gilbert & Sullivan

Phil banged open his apartment door and marched to his gun cabinet. His mind swirled with curses at himself for being such a fool and falling in love. Women! God's joke on man. He'd let Maddie sucker punch him again. Made him take his guard down, then wham! She'd hit his glass jaw, thrown a jab to his gut and generally beaten his brains out.

How could he have read her so wrong? He'd been positive that the cold exterior was only a protective front over a warm, vulnerable, caring interior. What about all those blushing smiles and innocent blue-eyed glances? She'd come apart for him the other night, given herself completely. But it had all been an act. She was some kind of temptress witch, ten times more wicked than Pam.

He unlocked the cabinet and pulled out his best two hunting rifles. Then he stomped into his bedroom, found his duffle bag and began stuffing it with clothes. He needed to get away. Away from all women and their two-faced, manipulative schemes. He'd head to the backwoods country where the campfires burned low and a man could sit in a hunter's blind and make some sense out of life. Hell, maybe he'd just find a cave and become a, by God, hermit! He'd let his hair grow and become a bushy-faced old geezer.

With the duffle bag flung over one shoulder and his rifles tucked under the other arm, Phil strode out of his apartment and climbed into the truck. He was going deer hunting, and as far away as he could get from that sweet-faced, black-hearted woman.

* * *

Maddie managed to get herself into a functioning mode by Sunday afternoon. Her best chance of making it through Thanksgiving was to banish all thoughts of Phil. Thank God, school was closed for the next week; but she still had to contend with her parents' imminent arrival. And, oh my lord, she needed to prepare a Thanksgiving feast. Time to call in the cavalry.

Sitting on her couch, she picked up the phone and hit Randy's number on her speed dial. He picked up on the second ring.

His merry voice lifted her mood. "Hello, dear heart, how in the world are you? We've hardly talked at all since we've acquired significant others."

"I'm in a fix." Maddie lifted her feet onto the coffee table. "My parents are arriving on Wednesday. How would you, Brent, and Mother Bailey like to join us for Thanksgiving? And bring your wonderful Waldorf salad, your fabulous green beans, your to-die-for home made rolls and a pecan pie?"

"So you're on for the turkey, dressing and potatoes? I suppose the Coach is good for a bag of chips."

Serious guilt pains gripped her chest. "I doubt he'll be here."

"Trouble in paradise?"

Maddie knew she'd burst into tears if she told Randy her sad story and she was sick to death of crying. "I'll tell you about it later. How are you and Brent getting along? Is Mother Bailey making your life miserable?"

"No more than usual. Actually, Brent appears to be winning her over. She enjoys having two of us at her beck and call. So far, we've just been together on weekends. One big, happy, gay family. Brent's talking about building a room addition on for her at his house in Little Rock."

Maddie felt a little stab of jealousy at Randy's happiness. And she was ashamed of herself. "That's wonderful."

"You don't sound too cheery. Has that big brute done something to upset you?" He put on a Brooklyn accent. "
Do you want I should go and punch his lights out?"

She managed a chuckle. "No, but I'm thinking of turning Lucifer on Pam. Listen, just bring food and plan on being the life of the party on Thursday. I'm sure we're going to need entertainment by then."

"You've got it. I'll bring my tape of
Moulin Rouge
and do my Nicole Kidman imitation."

"Sounds marvelous."

She hung up and threw herself into a fit of housecleaning. As she scrubbed the toilets, changed the sheets, ran the dust cloth, she fought thoughts of Phil. A boulder-sized lump lodged in her throat. Each time she passed the telephone, she had to stop herself from picking it up and blurting out she loved him, wanted him, needed him.

During the next two days, Maddie kept as busy as possible, working until fatigue forced her to collapse for catnaps on the couch. She'd lay with her hands on her rising stomach and feel the strong thumps of the baby. Fascinated by her changing body, she pulled back her shirt and exposed her naked tummy to watch the ripple of her stomach as the child tumbled inside its fluid sack. She longed to share the moments with Phil, but had to settle for a curious Lucifer, who nudged her hand for attention.

"You want to go for a walk, don't you? Fine."

Maddie hauled her body off of the cozy sofa, pulled on a jacket and scarf and joined her canine buddy for a stroll down to the lake. It was late afternoon on Wednesday. The cold breeze slapped her face as the crunch of crisp leaves accented each footstep. Water sloshed in white-capped peaks, whipped up by the turbulent wind. High in the sky the distant moon perched like a ghost hovering over the landscape.

She saw it up there, but refused to stand and yell at a traveling rock in the sky. She wouldn't blame the moon, her hormones or caffeine for her predicament. Somehow, she'd passed that. Much as her heart felt bruised, it wasn't crushed. The love she felt for Phil and the baby grounded her, freed her. Even though Phil might never know how much she cared for him, she wasn't going crazy. Madeleine Woodbridge Harris was no longer wounded and wound-up. No longer a nervous and edgy fussbudget. The fear of letting people into her heart had melted away. Phil had forced her to open up and love again. Probably love for the first time. He'd charged into her life and torn down her defenses.

What had he called her? A prickly, punctual, pain-in-the-ass. Nowadays she felt softer, gentler, wiser. He'd accused her of being afraid of being a woman and he'd been right. Standing by the cold water's edge feeling her heavy breasts and expanding womb, the wonder of being a woman struck her as a great gift from God. Phil had been a gift also, even if she couldn't keep him.

He'd been a gift from that ol’ Devil Moon.

* * *

Maddie heard a car drive up and turned around to see her parents, Amanda and Beau, opening their doors. Lucifer took off to greet the visitors as Maddie brought up the rear.

Beau held his arms wide. "Maddie, honey!" He engulfed her in a bear hug and she tried to keep her bulging belly from bumping into him.

"Hello, Daddy."

Her mother spoke up. "For heaven's sakes, let's get out of this wind and say our hellos in the house." She screamed when Lucifer jumped up on her and quickly pushed him down. "Good grief! Quickly, Beau, get Maddie indoors before she has a fit over this creature."