Maine - J. Courtney Sullivan [170]
Kathleen didn’t answer. Instead she said, “You and I have always told each other everything.”
It was true. While Maggie knew that it wasn’t the healthiest way to be, it was the only way they had ever been, and she believed it came from a place of love.
“I know.”
“So how could you not tell me this?”
“I did tell you. You’re the first person I told, other than Gabe.”
Maggie decided to leave Rhiannon out of it.
“But how long have you known?”
“A month and a half.”
“Oh, Maggie. The thought of you having to keep it to yourself. I wish you had come out to California right away. I’d like to think that’s what you would have done in a situation like this. Not come here, to Maine, with all the family drama.”
Maggie felt a mix of frustration and pity. Before she could stop herself, she said, “Until yesterday, there really wasn’t much drama.”
“So it’s my fault.”
“I didn’t mean that.”
“You know how proud I am of you, and how much I love you, no matter what,” Kathleen said. “Sometimes I wonder why you feel such a sense of loyalty to this family. None of these people give a crap about us. It makes me so sad to see you let down by them, over and over again. Just like I’ve always been. When I think of what Alice said to you yesterday—”
Maggie had forgotten her mother’s ability to turn every conversation about their extended family back to herself, and the ways in which she had been slighted by them. She had begun to make inroads with Alice and Ann Marie these past few weeks, and maybe it was stupid, but she felt happy about that. She knew her mother wanted the best for her. But she also knew this was one thing Kathleen could never let her have.
“No one’s letting me down,” Maggie said. She straightened up and lifted her computer bag off the table, carefully placing the strap on her shoulder. She muttered, “My boobs are killing me.”
Kathleen nodded. “Right on schedule. They’re getting bigger, too, you know.”
“They are?”
“Yeah. I thought you’d had implants for a second when I saw you yesterday.”
“Well, maybe that’s what I’ll tell people,” Maggie said. “I’ll be back.”
And with that, she carried her laptop next door.
Each time she had opened her e-mail for the past four days, she told herself not to read the message from Gabe. And each time, she read it anyway.
When it arrived in her in-box and she saw his name there, just reflexively she got goose bumps, as if they had been out on one magnificent date and she was waiting to see if he would call her again.
But by then, she was already certain about what was to come. She was going to raise this child on her own. It was scary and sometimes sad, but she could do it. Women did it all the time. In some vague way, she had always pictured herself as a single mother. Maybe just because she had grown up with one.
Mags, I’m sorry to have taken this long to reply. Ever since I read your e-mail, I’ve been thinking about you and the baby and what I should do. I even went out one afternoon and looked at engagement rings in a panic. I was literally sweating on the jewelry case. But if I’m being honest with us both, the simple fact is I can’t do this right now, at this point in my life. I don’t know what the future holds—maybe I’ll grow up one of these days. When you’re back in the city, let’s have coffee. I’m sorry. Love, Gabe
It was classic Gabe, exactly what she should have expected: Sorry I can’t be a man and a father to our child, but hey, let me buy you a latte.
Maggie understood why he couldn’t do it. Still, she felt like she was mourning the loss of something she had never had in the first place. In a different world, she might have been more trusting and he might have been trustworthy. She got that. But part of her missed him. She would never understand why logic couldn’t conquer something as simple and commonplace as love.
Maggie sat down in Alice’s kitchen now and decided not to turn on her computer just yet. She put in a call to the police department in a town called Tulip, Texas, where a bitter former prom queen had