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Every man she had ever known had disappointed her: her father, her brother, her husband, and now, Prosper. Maggie’s heart was heavy, and she was weary of it all. She was just so tired. The steady pounding of the rain against the window, the rhythmic rocking of the chair, and the even breathing of her baby’s breath all slowly began to lull her into an uneasy sleep.
“Don’t make the mistakes I did, my little love,” she whispered against Raine’s soft baby wisps of hair. “You find yourself a man who stays. Real men are the ones who go to sleep next to you at night, wake up next to you in the morning, and hold you in their hearts all the hours in between. You make sure when it’s your time to choose, you pick a man like that. You choose a man who stays.”
Then Maggie closed her eyes and fell asleep with her child held snugly in her arms.
Prosper hit the throttle and drove the bike into the barn to get it out of the rain. Maggie’s words played in his mind over and over again. He ran a shaking hand through his hair. Not much rattled him anymore, but this? He didn’t know what to do with this.
Prosper felt light in the head and weak in the knees. When his legs could no longer bear his weight, he slumped down to the floor and sat there with his back against a large bale of hay and just stared out into space for a long time. He tried like hell to collect his thoughts, but really, he was in a tailspin of emotion. Maggie’s words buzzed around his head like angry bumblebees. When Prosper finally reached for his smokes, his hand was shaking so bad he had difficulty lighting up.
Jesus. He needed to get his shit together.
I was. I am in love with you, Prosper. I loved you then and I love you now.
Had he known?
Of course, he had known.
It was there, exposed, in every little thing she did. It was in the way she watched him, in her smile, in the touch of her hand, in the way she had teased him about his serious demeanor, his unyielding pride, and his inexorable sense of justice.
Prosper had known that Magaskawee Whitefeather was in love with him before she had known it herself, and when he stood next to Jack Winston, Prosper also knew that he himself was the better man.
Still, Prosper had stepped aside. He had pushed his feelings for Maggie away and hoped to god that Jack would become the man that she needed him to be. He had let the woman he loved pledge herself to another man.
What the hell kind of an asshole would let that happen?
The kind with no damn balls.
The cowardly kind.
There was no other word for it. When Prosper first was faced with the feelings he’d had for Maggie, they had not sat well. In fact, they had been met with a sort of heart-stopping terror. For a man like Prosper, that was no small thing.
He had survived the death of his parents, a broken foster-care system, fighting in the treacherous jungles of Vietnam, and the violent, desperate world of an inner-city jail house. He had done it all, weathered it all, and come out a stronger man because of it.
But the way he felt about Maggie? The way he knew she felt about him? That singular, profound emotion—that kind of love—had brought him to his knees. He honestly, sincerely, and sadly could not handle the depth of feeling that loving Maggie brought with it. It was all just way too much. Too much to feel. Too much to lose. Too much to hope for.
So, Prosper had bailed on her, and in doing that, he had bailed on himself too. Now, he was about to do that again, but instead, he drank almost a fifth of Cuervo Gold, smoked a couple of bowls of premium hashish, and self-medicated himself until he passed out.
The next morning, Maggie was working in the vegetable garden when she looked up to see the barn door swing wide open and an unshaven, hung-over, hulk-of-a-man stagger out.
“Jesus. That sun is so damn bright.” Prosper put his hands up to shade his eyes. Maggie looked on in disbelief as he yelped out a host of expletives when he stubbed his toe against a log and almost lost his balance. Maggie stared at him dumbfounded until Prosper stumbled back into the barn. She watched as he swayed back out again a minute later, but this time he had what looked like a fresh pile of clothes in his hands. “I need a shower. Gonna need some coffee too. Hot, strong, and a whole pot of it,” he grumbled as he walked unsteadily past Maggie, whose mouth gaped open in unmitigated surprise.
So, Prosper hadn’t left her after all.
The minute therealization struck her was a moment in time that Magaskawee would remember for the rest of her life. It was as though the sweetest, most mouth-watering slice had been cut from the cake of time and handed to her on a sterling-silver platter.
“Ithought you had left.” She sat across the table from Prosper and watched him sip his coffee. The eggs and ham she had fried up sat untouched on his plate, but the three pain relievers were gone and the big glass of ice cold, fresh orange juice she had poured for him was empty. Prosper’s eyes were red and blurry, and despite the shower, he still faintly smelled of booze.
“Almost did, Maggie. I almost left. Couldn’t make myself do it though, so instead, I got hammered.” Prosper lifted his cup to her and said with a wry grin that made him wince, “As the saying goes, ‘one tequila, two tequila, three tequila, floor.’”
Maggie laughed nervously. She avoided his eyes except for a quick glance to try and read the barometer of his intentions.
“I’m not leaving,” Prosper told her. “But I’m not ready to talk about last night’s conversation either. The reason being—”
“No need to explain.” Maggie allowed herself to breathe again and interrupted him quickly. She had as little desire to talk about last night as he did.
“The reason being …” he continued, “is when we do have that conversation, it’s gonna come with a whole lot of decisions that I’m not sure you’re ready to make.”
It was that very night that Maggie heard from Jack for the first time since he had left. It was just after midnight, and he called her from what she guessed was a payphone inside some bar. Maggie could hear lots of loud conversation, raucous laughter, and music in the background. Jack was unapologetic, happy, and drunk out of his mind.
