Today, I had an appointment with the reverend to go over Grandma’s service. I’d asked him if we could do it over the phone, but he said he felt a more personal touch resulted from meeting in person. I think what he wanted had more to do with getting the prodigal granddaughter back within the four walls of the Lord’s holy house than him needing my input on what to say at Grandma’s service. Anyone who knew Betty Church knew her actions spoke ten times louder than her or anyone else’s words about her.
But if the reverend needed a boost to his save-the-souls agenda, I could stroke his ego. God knew I owed him far more for everything he’d done for Grandma.
The Baptist Church of Farmington looked just as inviting and terrifying as I remembered. Even as a kid going to occasional Sunday services with Grandma, I’d known this was a place to respect and fear. The church doled out as much peace as they did terror, so I tended to keep my religious scope tilted toward the not-quite-atheist scale of the spectrum. Just far enough the holy rollers were scared of me. Not so far the Scientologists started knocking.
Reverend Holloway’s office door was closed when I stepped inside the church. There were a few ladies in the sanctuary, looking like they were running through hymns, but the rest of the place was quiet. I was just starting to relax when the door opened and Reverend Holloway came out chuckling. He wasn’t alone.
I saw Canaan before he saw me, but when his attention eventually traveled my way, it led me to the conclusion he’d known I was there the whole time. My head was telling me to back away—my heart had a conflicting point of view.
“I apologize for keeping you waiting, Maggie. I was just finishing up with another meeting.” Reverend Holloway waved toward his office for me. “I’ll be right with you.”
“Yeah, we were just talking about you. Maggie.” Canaan came around the reverend, his eyes capable of pinning me to whatever surface they desired. “Well, it wasn’t only about you. I was in there too. Tossed in with our marriage vows and commitment and loyalty and all of those other good Christian values.” Canaan shot me a wide smile that the reverend couldn’t see.
One look at my face told Reverend Holloway I was not happy about the current situation. Not that it should have taken a look for him to make the leap to that conclusion—the whole town knew the tragic tale of Canaan and Maggie. It was practically a town legend.
“You don’t even go to church, Canaan Ford. What do you know of ‘good Christian values’?” I glared at him as he still smiled like this was all so much fun.
“The good reverend’s been catching me up to speed all morning. I feel like a new man.” Canaan gripped Reverend Holloway’s shoulder, his eyes messing with me.
My arms crossed as I put a few more feet between us. As much as I wanted to slap that smile from his face, I wanted to touch him in other ways just as badly. “And where did this sudden, albeit uncharacteristic, urge to seek God’s counsel come from?”
“When I realized only He”—Canaan’s index finger pointed skyward—“could save our marriage, Maggie Ford.”
“Church. Maggie Church.”
“Exactly. So where better than to seek counsel from?” Canaan’s arms spread at his sides as he did a slow turn.
My temples were aching. “What, dare I ask, are you getting at?”
He blinked at me. The reverend cleared his throat.
“Marital counseling, of course.” Canaan covered his heart with his hand.
A burst of air whooshed from my mouth. He was diabolical. “Problem. We’re not married.”
The reverend took a step away, beginning to realize just what kind of a predicament he’d found himself in.
The same finger went skyward again, along with Canaan’s virtuous expression of the feigned variety. “We are in the eyes of God.”
“What would the eyes of God think if he found out the reason you married me to begin with?” I returned that same smile he was giving me.
“The eyes of God already know. He’s all powerful.”
“You married me because I was—”
“Because I was in love with you.” The amused smile left. “I want to remain married to you because I’m still in love with you.”
My blood stirred. From anger or something else. “Did you tell Reverend Holloway about what I’m trying to have you sign?”
“I did.” Canaan nodded. “And he said that a person shouldn’t make big decisions like that when they’re grieving.”
I shifted, eyeing the doors. “I made this decision a long time ago. I just need you to sign your name a few dozen times and it will be done.”
That shut him up. For a world-record setting five seconds.
His hand covered his heart. “The Lord abhors divorce. We owe it to Him—and to ourselves—to give the marital counseling Reverend Holloway has offered a chance.” Canaan gave the reverend’s shoulders another squeeze, looking at me like he’d won this game I’d made the first move in.
I’d avoided him. He’d cornered me.
Checkmate.
“Now I don’t think we need to go to the extreme of marital counseling just yet. Sugar.” I glared at him as I spoke, the poor reverend looking between us like we were two lost souls he had no hope of saving. “With that romantic date you promised to take me on tomorrow night.”
Canaan’s hands dropped from the reverend’s shoulders, his mouth pulling at the corners. “I thought we had that date all set for tonight?”
“You must be mistaken. Tonight I have plans.” I warned him with my eyes.
“I swear I had it in my calendar for tonight?”
When Canaan pulled his phone out, I turned to Reverend Holloway. “When would your earliest opening be for this marital counseling you and Canaan have been talking about?”
“Tomorrow night it is. You were right,” Canaan crowed, tipping his chin at me to concede the victory. “Glad we got it all straightened out.”
I kept my expression flat. “I’m swimming in gladness over it.”
“Thanks again, Reverend.” Canaan shook hands with him before heading toward the doors. “You had some good advice.”
Reverend Holloway waved. “Remember what I said. Timing is everything.”
Canaan paused with his hand on the door. All manner of amusement left him as he looked at me the way he had back then—like I was so much a part of him, it was next to impossible to walk away. “I’ll remember.”
There was one silver lining to having a meeting with Reverend Holloway following his meeting with Canaan—he was too exhausted from having tried to save one sinner to get back at it when I slid into the chair across from him. Translation? My meeting with him was over in fifteen minutes flat. That had to be some new kind of record.
The rest of the day I spent finishing up what I could in the basement, which left one room I had yet to go through. I’d kept Grandma’s bedroom door closed this whole time, finding myself moving to the other side of the hall to pass it. It wasn’t because of any bad memories of that room, but I guessed it was more to do with the good ones. And maybe a little because it was the room she’d taken her last breath in. The place where she’d gone from this world to the next.
I’d been dreading entering it all week and even after working up all the courage I had left inside, it didn’t feel like enough. Standing outside Grandma’s bedroom door, a place I’d never hesitated to enter before, my hand shook when I lifted it to the doorknob. I couldn’t do it.
Before I could go any farther, my phone vibrated inside my pajama shorts’ pocket. I’d kept it on silent all day to keep from getting distracted, but I was thrilled for any distraction now. Even if it was another call from a persistent, maddening ex.
I didn’t realize it wasn’t Canaan until I’d answered the phone.
“Good. I caught you.” Reed’s voice was muffled from all of the additional background noise.
“Reed? Are you at the hospital?” It didn’t sound exactly like the buzz of nurses and medical equipment I was used to, but it was clo
se.
“No. I’m at the airport.”
My body tensed. “You’re coming down?” Of course now would be the time he’d decide to come down for moral support. A few days after I’d made out with my ex like a certified harlot.
“No. Actually . . .” He paused just long enough for me to assume he was experiencing some level of guilt. “I got the attending position in San Francisco. I got it, Maggie.”
I scanned my memory files for San Francisco. Nothing I could recall related to Reed. “What job?”
“The one I applied for last month.”
“Last month? Why didn’t you tell me about it?”
Another pause, but this one wasn’t as long as the first. “It was a long shot. I never thought I’d get it. I didn’t want to mention it and get our hopes up when I knew I’d be going up against dozens of other highly capable candidates.”
I backed into the wall behind me, rubbing my forehead. What was happening? What was I not understanding?
“Our hopes up?” I repeated. “Not to mention talking it over with your girlfriend of two years to see how she felt about you moving across the country for a job?”
“Maggie—”
“What the hell? So what? You took the job? You already agreed to it without talking it over with me?” My thumb pushed into my temple—it was throbbing again, an ache that wouldn’t go away since I’d come back.
“I’m talking with you about it right now.”
“At the airport!”
Silence. All the way around.
“I thought you’d be happy for me.”
My blood heated when I heard the boarding announcement for San Francisco. “And I thought you gave an actual fuck about me.”
I hung up.
Then I cried.
Finally.
It wasn’t so much over Reed as it was hitting critical mass. I cried the tears I’d been holding back for Grandma—they felt like they’d never end. I cried the tears I’d kept inside for myself, feeling just as endless. Hell, I cried tears for everything from the past few years, from my goldfish Luna dying last winter, to feeling so weak I couldn’t manage to open my grandma’s bedroom door.
I sat like that for a brief eternity. When I thought I’d cried myself out, a few more tears squeezed free.
He might have been knocking for a while, but I didn’t hear it if he had. It wasn’t until he called my name that I heard him.
“Canaan?” I called back, wiping my face and eyes with the back of my arm.
“Maggie!” Some pounding at the door followed.
I tried to call out to him so he knew I was inside and I needed . . . something. His name moved on my lips, but I didn’t make a sound. Even my body was incapable of movement, stuck to the floor where I’d gone down.
A few moments later, I heard a key turning over in the lock, followed by the sound of a door pushing open and footsteps moving quickly.
“Maggie!” His footsteps screeched across what sounded like the kitchen floor. “Where are you?”
“Up here,” I replied, only loud enough for me to hear. “I’m up here.”
His footsteps moved closer, storming up the stairs until his head came into view. His eyes landed on me instantly, his throat moving when he saw me.
“What happened? Are you okay?” He finished lunging up the stairs and slid to his knees when he was close. His eyes scanned me like he was expecting to find physical damage.
Just having him close—having another soul close by—served to calm me some. When I stayed quiet, his hands formed around my face, waiting for me to look at him.
“What’s the matter?” His eyes dropped to the phone still in my hands, next to the door.
“Everything,” I answered.
His face fell as he moved closer, sliding my hair out of my face. “What can I do?”
I set my phone down and pushed it away. “Something,” I said, the only answer I could give him.
I didn’t know what I needed. I didn’t have a clue what I needed. All I knew was that I needed . . . something. From him. I’d arrived in Farmington thinking I only needed one thing from Canaan, but now, I wasn’t so sure. My certainty was waning while my confusion was waxing.
“Come here.” He scooted beside me, holding his arms open.
I went into them without thinking. Canaan’s arms wound around me as I tucked myself close, leaning into the expanse of his chest and letting my head drop below his. Warmth crept into me ribbon by ribbon, until I felt my entire body tingling with it.
His chin tucked over my head as his arms tightened a bit more. In his arms, all of those problems took a hiatus, and temporary as I knew it was, I was immensely grateful for the reprieve. I was grateful for however few or many minutes I could stay tucked in his arms, feeling the protective refuge I’d only known with Canaan. Sometimes that was all a person needed in the midst of crisis. One moment to catch their breath. A break to regather their strength. A shelter from the storm.
“Don’t worry,” Canaan’s voice soothed me as he secured my body to his. “You’re not alone. You never will be.”
A new person—that’s what I felt like waking up the next morning. Crazy what a good night sleep could do to a person’s outlook on life.
It wasn’t until I shifted that I realized I wasn’t waking up in my bed—I was waking up on Canaan.
“Good afternoon,” he yawned when I started to stir.
My eyes flashed open. “How long was I out?”
It was light outside, which meant I’d spent the whole night curled up on my ex’s lap. Nice work, Maggie. Why not add a little more bedlam to the quagmire?
“Judging from the degree of ass numbness I’m experiencing, I’m guessing a solid eight hours.”
I shot him an apologetic smile as I sat up, trying to adjust myself so my derriere wasn’t wedged into his lap. “Why didn’t you just toss me in bed?”
“Because I’m a sadist and didn’t want to let you go,” he answered, shaking out his arms.
“Did you at least get a little sleep while I was using you as a makeshift bed?”
A dark brow cocked. “Most everything south of my belt region was numb by one a.m. Try falling asleep with pins and needles shooting down your lower half.”
“Most everything?” I slid off his lap and joined him on the hardwood floor.
His crooked smile was answer enough.
“I swear, when you keel over dead one day, that part of you will go on living.”
Canaan’s gaze drifted to his fly region. “Did you hear that? She just deemed you invincible.”
My eyes lifted. “I was more going for obstinate.”
“Thank you.”
“That wasn’t a compliment.” My gaze dropped to the very area we were talking about.
He caught me looking too. That flash in his eyes confirmed it. “Doesn’t matter how you meant it—that was a compliment. Any woman who refers to a guy’s dick as invincible is praise, no matter how she meant it.”
I elbowed him. “Obstinate isn’t the same as invincible.”
“Close enough for me.”
Adjusting my shorts and T-shirt so they weren’t all twisted around me from sleep, I made myself scoot a bit farther away from him. If not for sanity’s sake, then for morning breath’s. Not that I should have cared what Canaan thought about my breath—he’d woken up to a year’s worth of mornings with me when we’d been playing the stupid-teen version of house.
“You’re obnoxious,” I muttered as I kept scooting away.
“Thank you again.”
“Not a compliment. Again.”
His solid shoulder bumped mine. “Not convinced. Again.”
When he caught me fighting a smile, his chest rumbled from a laugh. Hearing it, having him so close with both of us smiling and more-than-tolerating each other, pulled at something buried in my chest.
His face ironed out a moment later. “Last night . . . the tears, meltdown thing. Did that have anything to do with him???
?
“To do with who?” I asked, though I knew exactly which “him” he was referring to.
Canaan gave me a look, which had me giving in with a sigh. It was pointless to try to sneak a lie past him—I’d known that for years.
“What makes you say that?” I asked.
He pointed at my phone still lying on the floor where I’d left it last night. “I might have glanced through your phone’s call history in a bout of boredom while you were snoozing.”
I grabbed my phone, panicking when I thought of what else he might have “glanced” through. “Boredom,” I repeated, deadpan.
Canaan rubbed the back of his head, smiling at the floor. “Nosiness.”
My head fell into the wall behind me as I exhaled. “Reed . . . he was just the straw, you know? I’d been holding it in all week and I needed a good cry.” I replayed the phone conversation in my head, the shock of it still stinging. I mean, my god, I knew his job came first—I just hadn’t realized I came in dead last. “He helped me out with that.”
“Son of a bitch,” Canaan hissed under his breath. “I need to help him out with something too. If you’d kindly tell me his address and where he works, I’ll be on my way.”
When he started to rise, my hand formed around his thigh and I kept him down. “Not worth it.”
“Very worth it.”
“Canaan—”
“Maggie. I’ve seen you cry all of four times. At your parents’ and Asher’s funerals, another time after we lost the baby—”
His abruptness made me flinch. I wasn’t used to talking so openly about the life we’d created and lost.
“And last night. Whatever he said or did to get you to cry is deserving of a hell of a lot more than I have planned for him.” When I blinked at him, waiting, he added, “I’m not going to kill him, if that’s what you’re worried about.”
I kept on blinking and waiting.
Canaan gave in with a sigh. “He’ll just wish he was dead when I’m done with him.”