Pamela Hearon - My Way Back to You

Even now, after spending the afternoon traipsing around a golf course with Spike filling her ears so full she thought her head would burst, her brain should’ve been focused on the upcoming goodbye with her son. Instead, it looped continually back to the feel of Jeff’s lips on hers, the sizzle that snaked through her belly at his touch. The scene had become a recurring dream that blindsided her anytime she closed her eyes either last night in the dark or today in broad daylight.

Or even now as the dinner was coming to a close.

“And, of course, the top honors go to the team of Grainger/Wells, coming in with a score of twelve under.” Coach Brimley handed out the cheesy plastic trophies to the four-man team. They accepted graciously, then Russ gave his trophy a noisy smooch, which brought a laugh from the crowd. For the millionth time that day, Maggie was reminded of the kiss she and Jeff shared last night.

Definitely trophy worthy.

She had yet to talk to Jeff about it, but she would as soon as they had a moment alone. She’d learned the hard way with Zeke that the things you didn’t talk about were the ones that came back to haunt you. And, although her dreams last night and her daydreams today had been much too pleasant to be considered haunting, she knew they would come back to bite her in the ass.

The applause died down, the coach made his final remarks, and when the crowd started moving, Maggie’s heart pinned her to her seat and stymied her movements.

Hold yourself together, Mom. She read the unspoken plea in Russ’s eyes as he crossed the room to her.

Somehow she found the strength to stand up and meet him. He leaned down and enveloped her in a tight hug.

“I’m proud of you, little man.” His hold tightened at her words. “Not because you won today. I’m proud of you every day—of the man you’ve become.”

“Love you, Mom.” His voice broke like it had so often when he was going through puberty.

His hold loosened, and he stepped back. She wasn’t quite ready to let go just yet, but when a second body pressed against her side, she realized he was making room for Jeff in a three-way hug. She fought back another wave of tears, and for a long moment, they stood holding each other as a family—the way they could’ve been all along if life hadn’t had other plans.

“Y’all gonna walk me to my room?” Russ placed a kiss to the top of her head, which she shook in answer.

“I think that will be too hard. Let’s just step outside and make it quick and relatively painless.”

Russ never let go of her or Jeff as they threaded their way through the crowd that now felt more like a funeral than a celebration.

On the sidewalk, Russ let go of his dad and clutched her tightly again. “You going to be okay?”

“I’m okay,” she lied. Lord, this was so much harder than childbirth. Back then, she’d been numb when the worst of the contractions had hit. But this felt like someone was digging out her heart with a plastic spoon and no anesthesia. “You be good. Be careful. Play nice and watch crossing.” She added the signature line she’d used throughout his childhood, which brought a strangled chuckle from them both. Her nose was clogged with unshed tears, and just when she thought she would suffocate from the high pressure area in her chest, he let go and turned to Jeff.

The pats on the back were much harder between the two of them than previously. She suspected man pats were meant to inflict a touch of pain that somehow reminded them of their manhood...or maybe provided an excuse for a tear to escape.

When Russ wiped a hand down his face, it was almost her undoing.

One more quick hug. A peck to his cheek and a pat to his belly. She couldn’t hold herself together much longer. “See you in November.”

“Yeah. And I’ll see you at Christmas, Dad.”

“Take care.” Jeff gave a soft pat to his son’s shoulder, then he took Maggie’s arm and swiveled her toward the parking lot. “Let’s go.”

She should be irritated Jeff was taking charge, telling her it was time to leave her son. But her feet wouldn’t have moved without his prodding.

“I’m driving.” He held out his hand, and she relinquished the keys without dissension. Spike waved to them as he got into his car. He was making the drive back to his home tonight—Maggie wished she could do the same. The hotel room would feel lonelier than ever.

But then, so would home.

She made it to the car, through the buckling in, the starting of the ignition and all the way to the point where Jeff was about to pull out of the parking lot. And then the tears erupted from her.

Jeff whipped the car into the nearest parking place and they came to an abrupt stop. Her sight was so blurred she couldn’t see him, but she felt his arm around her shoulders pulling her against him. She sobbed into his chest.

“He’s going to be fine, Mags,” he whispered. She nodded, but words wouldn’t come yet. “You’ve done such a great job. He’s well-adjusted. Has a great personality.”

“But the house is going to...to be so...so empty with him gone,” she blubbered.

“It’s not like he’s never coming back,” Jeff soothed, stroking her hair. “He’ll be home in a little over three months.”

“But things will never be the s-s-ame. This is the start of him being...being gone for good.”

Jeff dabbed at the tears with a tissue from the box in the backseat. “You know what I think?” She shook her head. “I think we should be celebrating.”

She straightened, taken aback by his declaration. He cupped her cheeks, directing her gaze toward his with hands that were warm and gentle. Being with someone at that moment felt nice.

“I mean it, Mags. We’ve done a hell of a job with this kid. We should be proud of who he is, who we’re sending out into the world. He’ll make it a better place.” Then he released her and shifted the car into Reverse. “We’re going back to the hotel and celebrating.”

Maggie was in no mood to celebrate and planned on heading to her room as soon as they got there. Surprisingly she was able to get her tears under control during the drive, and by the time they got to the lobby, she was almost herself again—except for the puffy eyes. And the thought of going upstairs to her empty room was no longer appealing. So when Jeff took her hand, she allowed him to lead her into the lounge to a table in the shadowy back corner with a high-backed love seat. It was dark enough she didn’t feel conspicuous about her red eyes and nose, and cozy enough to relax.

A few couples were taking a turn on the floor, dancing to the pleasant melodies of the soloist with the smoky voice and her accompanist. When the server came to take their order, Jeff didn’t ask her preference.

“We’ll have a bottle of Pol Roger Brut Réserve and two glasses,” he said.

“A whole bottle of champagne?” Maggie asked as the server walked away. “That’s a little much, isn’t it?”

Jeff grinned, his white teeth gleaming against his tanned face, made darker by the dim lighting. “Only three glasses each. And we’re not gonna gulp them. We’re going to sit here and savor them for as long as we want.” He cocked his head in question, his gaze flitting over her face. “You better now?”

“I’m okay.”

“Good.” Her hand lay on the love seat between them and he patted it lightly. A couple of hours ago, that touch would have sent a shock wave through her. But saying goodbye to Russ seemed to have desensitized her, leaving her a little numb. Jeff pointed out the window to the street beyond. “What a shame. You came all the way to Chicago and didn’t have a chance to shop the Magnificent Mile.”

“I actually had a couple of hours this morning. While you and Russ were playing your practice round, and having man time with Spike, I was hitting the shops.” She tried to sound contrite, but she couldn’t keep the grin from her face when Jeff cringed at the mention of Spike. “All you two got were sore ears and a plastic trophy. I scored a dress, two pairs of capris and three pairs of shoes.”