Page 27 of Prosper

“Yes, little one?” Maggie opened her eyes and smiled at her daughter. The relief on Raine’s small face broke Maggie’s heart. She had become so watchful, so hyper-vigilant. It was as if she expected her mother to disappear any moment. That notion, Maggie sighed, was not so far from the truth. She tried her best to keep the child occupied. Just a few months ago, she and the girls had planted some more berry patches in the yard. It had given them all something to focus on, something to nurture and watch grow. Their attention to the little plants had been rewarded, and they were now heavy with clusters of rich, fat berries that her daughters loved to pick.

“Sweetheart, why don’t you take Claire and go pick me some strawberries? When Daddy comes home, we can …” But Raine was already half out of the room before Maggie could finish. Part of it was her eagerness to please, the other part was that she liked nothing better than to be outside in the little garden with Claire.

In one of his more insightful moments, Jack had brought home a little gardening kit for the girls, complete with a miniature hoe, rake, and watering cans.

Jack Winston.

Her Jack. The one who came back.

Jack had been repentant and loving all those years ago when he had come home from the Gulf of Mississippi. On Maggie’s part, she did her best to hide her disappointment when she saw that it was her husband and not Prosper who had ridden up that long road. That night, Jack and Maggie talked in a way they had not done in years. Later on, when he made love to her, it was like they were beginning all over again. And because Maggie still loved her husband, she had given him that chance.

In many ways Jack had kept the promises that he’d made that night. He’d tried his hand at some of those much-needed home repairs, and he’d stopped taking off whenever the mood struck him. But Jack was never meant to live the life of a family man, not really. So, although he made as many compromises as needed to keep his little family functioning, he could not live by his family alone. Maggie and the girls were just never enough. Jack squelched that yearning to be on the open road by opening his home to every vagrant or stray cat that he came across: the ex-cons, the returned soldiers, the down-on-their-lucks, and the road warriors … all had a place at Jack’s table. Maggie never knew from one day to the next who would be sharing their meals or camping out in their barn. She obliged Jack and dealt with these “guests” the best she could but had one hard and non-negotiable steadfast rule. And that rule was that no man slept under the same roof as her little girls.

No man except Prosper.

He didn’t come by more than once a year or so, and even then, he didn’t stay long. But when he did, Maggie wouldn’t hear of him sleeping anywhere but inside the house with her family. It was the least she could do, the least she could give him. Maggie knew that Prosper’s visits were his way of checking up on them and checking up on Jack’s ability to keep his promise. If Jack felt that, he never made an issue of it and always welcomed Prosper warmly and with the open arms of a good friend.

Prosper Worthington.

Hard.

Unyielding.

Uncompromising.

Who would have ever thought that he would become the hero in her story—or the love of her life?

Maggie closed her eyes and let her mind drift as she often did these days just as the medication began to kick in. She was no longer ashamed to admit that these times were becoming the best part of her day … the peace that came between the twilight and dreaming. And she had been having the loveliest dreams lately: beautiful sunrises, magnificent sunsets, walking through fields of colorful blossoms the size of her open hand, and brightly colored butterflies that landed on her shoulder. But the best dreams of all were the carefully stored memories … those few and precious moments of loving and being loved by Prosper Worthington.

Long ago, Magaskawee had reconciled her feelings for Prosper and for Jack. And when Prosper had come to visit in those years since, there was not so much as a look that passed between Maggie and him that hinted to the longing they may have felt or the secret love they still shared.

Sometimes Maggie would look at Claire and wonder how Prosper did not see himself in her eyes, her chin, and her stubbornness. She had promised herself that she would tell him, that if Prosper ever guessed, or even hinted that he had the slightest inkling that Claire was his daughter, she would tell him the truth.

But he never did.

He never questioned the amber flakes in her brown eyes that were so like his own or the strength in her little chin.

Maggie thought it was probably wrong to keep Claire’s parentage a secret to herself.

Wrong for Claire, wrong for Prosper, and wrong for Jack.

But honestly, she wasn’t quite convinced exactly just how wrong it was. Maggie’s world had never functioned from a place of absolutes. Nothing ever seemed to be all white or all black, all true or false, all good or bad. She lived in a world where those lines of social norms were blurred and fundamental truths were … not so fundamental, after all.

In starting his club, Prosper had found the tribe, the sense of belonging, the marginalized family that he had been looking for. The one percent of the population who lived outside the laws and guidelines of polite society—those were his people—and he was their overlord, their chieftain. He fulfilled his role with honor and purpose. The world he ruled over had no place for a child.

And even if it had, there were her girls to consider.

As different in temperaments as they were, Raine and Claire were as close as sisters could be; two little peas in a pod and one could not do without the other. Maggie knew that to survive what was to come, the girls would need each other. The strong bonds they had, the blood they shared, and the ties that bound them hard and fast should never be put into question. Those two little hearts would always beat stronger when they beat together. As long as her girls had each other, Maggie knew they would be fine.

In truth, it was Jack who worried Maggie the most.

That was just one of the many things she would need to talk to Prosper about when he arrived. She would need to talk to him about helping Jack learn how to live without her.

It had been a long ride on this journey that could only end in heartbreak. When Prosper had finally reached that town line, he realized he still wasn’t ready to face Maggie or the devastating illness that was hellbent on tearing her from everything she knew and everyone she loved.

Feeling that he needed a little more time to face what he knew was waiting, Prosper got himself a cheap motel room just outside of town. He’d have a late dinner then get shitfaced drunk.

In the visits he had made over the years to Jack and Maggie’s house, he had often stopped at Raising Cain. It was a typical neighborhood bar and grill where regulars met up to share local news, maybe grab something to eat, or play cards, darts, or billiards. They had an impressive menu, which included breakfast all day, juicy, fat angus-beef burgers, wood-fired pizza, and fried pickles. The coffee was always hot and fresh, and the beer was on tap and ice cold. The Lion’s Club and Rotary met in the “banquet” room in the back once a month, and many adulterous affairs had begun in the dark, tree-lined parking lot. The booths were covered in red vinyl, and the lighting was low. The sports schedule for the local high school’s teams were taped on the wall behind the cash register while a civic bowling trophy gathered dust next to it. Raising Cain was family-owned and the same waitstaff had been there forever. Jack had introduced Prosper to the place, and whenever Prosper had been in the area, he and Jack spent a least one night having a few brews and maybe sitting in on a couple of pickup games of cards or darts. Over the years he had gotten on a first-name basis with the owners and knew several of the regulars as well.

Source: www.allfreenovel.com