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What We Find

Page 83

   


He raised his gaze to hers. “I didn’t know you were married.”
“I could’ve sworn I told you that...”
“Maggie, I was married.”
“Well, that’s okay. A lot of people our age—”
“Mine wasn’t short,” he said. “It wasn’t a mistake. I was married for eight years. My wife died two years ago.”
She was stunned silent for a moment. “Wow. I’m sorry.”
“Thanks. Listen, I’m not trying to be secretive, but is it okay if I don’t talk about it right now? She died of scleroderma, a difficult disease. Let’s save that discussion for another time. Okay? It’s still hard to talk about.”
“Sure,” she said quietly. “Wow. I mean, I had no idea.”
“How could you? I’ll fill in the blanks one of these days. When the time feels right. Okay?”
“Are there a lot of blanks?” she asked.
“Details, that’s all.” He reached for her hand and squeezed it. “I’m moving on the best I can, but I still find it very personal. And emotional. Right now, I want to hear about Phoebe and Walter and anything else. I want to laugh with you, then I want to hold you and take you to bed. Let’s cover my background another time. A better time.”
“Okay.”
“Tell me about your childhood with Phoebe,” he suggested.
“Ohhh, you’re not going to believe any of it,” she said.
“After the family I came from?” he asked, lifting a brow. “Really?”
“You mean that’s all true?”
“Maggie, I may be guilty of withholding, not being ready to talk about some things, but I’ve never lied to you.”
“How can you manage that?” she asked.
“Force of habit, I guess. Tell me stuff.”
“Well, Phoebe had it hard,” Maggie said. “She rescued me from this shit hole, as she called it, and took me to Chicago where she somehow managed to get a very nice apartment. I have no idea how she did it. Sully swears she never asked him for any money. She got herself a very good job in a posh restaurant and although I seemed to spend most of my time with the next-door neighbor lady, Phoebe only worked or looked after me. When she got home in the middle of the night, her feet were swollen and her head ached. After about a year she brought Walter home—she met him in the restaurant. She must have picked him on sight. And I hated him because I knew what he meant—Walter getting together with Phoebe meant I’d never see Sully again. I was horrible to him. And to Phoebe, for that matter. They even had me sitting with a psychologist for a while. I ran away several times but I only made it a couple of blocks. I got bad grades, had temper tantrums, wouldn’t eat, or so they thought... I was a growing girl—I sneaked food. And then when I was eight Walter said to me, ‘I think you should visit your father, but if you’d like to do that, this is no way to go about it.’ When I tried to explain that Phoebe would never let me he just said, ‘Let me work on that. Try to be patient. And for God’s sake, try to behave. You and I both know what you’re doing.’ It wasn’t just the fact that he had me nailed that made a difference, but that he spoke to me as if I were an adult.”
“And he won you over,” Cal said.
“Not yet, but he was getting closer. You have to remember, Walter was a busy surgeon. We didn’t spend a great deal of time together.”
“He must have loved Phoebe very much to put up with you,” Cal said.
“I don’t know that Walter cares that much about love, though clearly he cares about Phoebe. I asked him once why the devil he married her and you know what he said? He said she was uncomplicated. How’s that for an assessment?”