Steve and Maggie stepped out of the B & B and into a beautiful morning.
Granted, it wasn't as warm as Malibu, but the sky was clear and blue, and
the light, crisp breeze was refreshing. Not knowing a thing about the
town, Steve contented himself with letting Maggie lead the way.
"Are we going anywhere in particular, Mags?"
"No, gringo, just…damos un paseo. Going for the walk, I think you say?"
"*A* walk, Maggie."
"Oh, sí, claro."
Steve smiled.
The B & B was an old, converted Victorian house just a few blocks from the main commercial area of town, and as they made their way down the street, the houses became fewer and fewer, giving way to little specialty shops, a bakery and a hairdresser, then discount stores. A Thom McAnn shoe store and a JCPenney's department store marked beginning of the true business sector.
Downtown Santa Mera was a single, wide, brick-paved street, shut off to automobile traffic between eight and eight every day. An eclectic collection of shops lined one side, and a number of imposing government buildings, including a post office, a town hall, a police station, and a jail, lined the other. Lovely little fountains, picnic areas, and small landscaped areas were scattered along both sides of the street, clearly filling in the spaces where vacant or condemned buildings had been. The pair window-shopped as they walked down the street side by side, and, stopping in one shop, Maggie picked out a floppy green hat that matched her outfit. She tried it on, and it looked good, but when she inspected the price tag, grimaced, and gingerly put it back on the display, Steve had to laugh.
"Too rich for your blood, huh?"
She grinned and said, "At that price, I would need a parasol, too, to protect it from the sun."
Stepping into a used bookstore, they browsed for quite some time. Maggie loved the musty, dusty smell, and Steve found the quiet atmosphere soothing. When they finally left, Steve had selected an antique medical text for his dad, and Maggie had a couple of well-worn paperbacks.
He arched one brow haughtily at her when she snickered at his selection.
Upon seeing his expression, she said, "Steve, I am sure your papi will appreciate the thoughtfulness, but that text is so old, antiguo, Galen himself could have written it."
"It just so happens my father collects antique medical texts, Maggie."
Maggie giggled. "Your papi collects *everything*, gringo."
Steve was forced to grin. "There's no denying fact," he admitted, "But the truth is, at Christmas, while we were shopping for Jesse and Amanda, I saw him admiring a volume with this same title, but he put it back. When I went back to check it out, the price was outrageous. It would have blown my budget, so I didn't get it for him. This copy I can afford."
"Is it authentic?"
Steve's face rumpled into a frown as he considered. "I think so," he said uncertainly.
As he gave Steve his change, the cashier said, "I assure you, it is, sir, but if you are unsatisfied, our return policy is at the bottom of the receipt."
"Thank you," Steve said as he took the change and, looking at Maggie, he gave a little 'hmph' that sounded just like, "So there."
Scrutinizing Maggie's purchases, Steve laughed out loud.
"A woman of your education and accomplishments reads trash like that?"
"What do you mean, 'trash?'"
"Maggie," he said, thumbing the pages of the much-abused Harlequins. "This stuff is drivel for lonely housewives and undereducated, oversexed adolescents who never grew up."
She drew herself up to her full height, which was considerable, even in Steve's estimation, and when she narrowed her eyes at him, he involuntarily took a step back.
"That is the point, gringo." The way she said the word 'gringo,' it could just as well have been 'insect.' "Fish is brain food, and this is brain candy. After a hard day at work, even with *my* sometimes not so good English, I can read one of these in a few hours, and feel good at the end." She handed the cashier a ten-dollar bill and waited for him to make change.
"It's totally unrealistic."
"No more than what you have bought your papi."
Steve started to protest that his purchase had value as an antique and a document of past scientific inquiry, but Maggie overrode him.
"The whole point is fantasy and escape, Steve. Dos novios, two lovers always overcome the worst possible horrors to be together and happy in the end. It is a formula. I know what's going to happen. Tell me a title, and I could probably write one of my own. It is comforting. Two people who love each other get a happy ending."
She probably didn't mean to, but something she said struck a chord within Steve. He had loved Lynn, he knew that now, and he was pretty sure he loved Maggie, but for some reason he doubted he would ever be allowed a happy ending.
Crestfallen, he said simply, "Point taken. I'll be waiting outside."
He went out and sat on a bench in front of the store.
Maggie stood outside the bookstore watching Steve for several minutes. He was seated on the bench, leaning back, staring off into space, unaware that he was being watched. Apparently, something she said had affected him, but she didn't know what.
Finally, she walked over and sat beside him. Putting a hand on his arm, she said simply, "Steve?"
Steve tensed when Maggie spoke his name. She was clearly issuing an invitation to talk about what was on his mind, but he didn't want to talk right now. He didn't want to talk about Lynn and what had happened to her. He didn't want to talk about Maggie and himself and all that had already passed between them and what might come in the future. And he most definitely did *not* want to talk about happy endings that never came true.
Maggie paused long enough for Steve to say something if he felt like talking, but when he tensed and remained silent, she knew what he wanted.
"Bueno, let's keep shopping, then."
Steve turned his hand over, and reached for Maggie's, which was still resting on his forearm. Lacing his fingers through hers, he pulled the hand up to his lips for a quick kiss, and said affectionately, "Thanks, Mags."
They wandered aimlessly a while longer, walking down the street hand-in hand, window shopping and talking about things of little consequence. At the far end of the commercial district, Maggie coaxed Steve into a small boutique with her as she shopped for shoes. After nearly half an hour, she finally settled on a pair of orange suede sandals with impossibly high heels and long, soft, suede ties that wrapped, criss-crossing, all the way up her shapely legs to the knees.
"I have the perfect outfit for these," she said. "What do you think?"
She walked toward him, tall, confident, moving as if she were made to wear the six-inch heels, and she stopped so close to him, he could feel the heat from her body.
He grinned, *up* at her, he realized, with some…excitement?…as she now towered over him by at least four inches, and said hoarsely, "I think I like them a lot."
She smiled *down* at him, and he wondered if this is how Jesse sometimes felt.
"Just wait until you see the dress," she whispered.
There was something in her voice, part threat, part promise, and completely enthralling. Her eyes met his, and Steve's heart leapt to his throat.
Maggie looked down into the endless depths of those impossible blue eyes and waited. Steve needed to make the next move. If he needed a friend, he could step away; if he wanted more, he could take what he wanted. She wanted him more than anything, but she would not push. She ached for his kiss, burned for his touch, but she would not push. They were inches apart, but she would not push. She'd give him anything he asked, but he had to reach out for it. She would not push. When he put his hands on her, a tremor ran through her. Suddenly, she wanted to wrap herself around him and cling to him forever, but she *would not* push.
Steve moved closer, and placed his hands at her waist. He felt her tremble at his touch. She stepped towards him and closed the gap between their bodies. He looked up into those dark, dark eyes, black as the night sky and eternal as the universe, and he was amazed that they could glow so brightly with passion. He let his hands work their way up her back until they were tangled in her thick, curly, black hair, and he pulled her face fractionally closer to his…
"Excuse me!"
Steve and Maggie jumped apart, and Maggie cried out as she twisted her ankle. Steve caught her before she fell, and helped her limp over to a seat. The poor clerk who had interrupted was clearly embarrassed, but not half so much as Steve and Maggie. All three tried to sputter and stammer humiliated apologies to the other two, and no one could understand a word anybody was saying until Maggie raised her voice and said, "¡Cállense!"
She continued in English for the benefit of the clerk.
"Please, stop talking." She looked at the clerk and grinned. "I love the shoes. I'll take them." She undid the ties as Steve brought her the box. Then she rooted through her purse for her credit card, handed the whole mess to the clerk and said, "Would you be so kind as to do me the favor of ringing them up and bringing the slip to me to sign. I think I may have injured my ankle and need a few minutes to make sure I can walk back to our hotel."
The clerk nodded and shuffled away to ring up the sale.
"Mags, are you hurt? Do you need me to get some ice or take you to the hospital?"
Maggie chuckled and said, "I think I can just walk it off, but this saves everyone some…vergüenza...I think the word is sham? Would you bring me my sneakers?"
Steve grinned and said, "Shame. A sham is a deception or a trick."
"Maldito silent 'e'," she muttered as she slipped her tennis shoes on. "It's no wonder Americans can't spell their own language."
Steve grinned again and said, "You're an American, too, sweetheart."
Looking up at him, she winked, and said, "That is because God blessed America…with me."
She stood up, and took a couple of tentative steps, and by the time the clerk returned, she had decided she was fit to walk back to the hotel. Even though she insisted she was fine, Steve demanded to carry her packages and as they left the store, he slipped his arm around her waist to offer support. They crossed the street and headed back toward the hotel, which was about ten blocks away, and every other bench, he would pause and ask Maggie if she wanted to sit, until finally, she promised him she would tell him if she needed to sit and that he should stop inquiring because it was getting on her nerves.
He just smiled and said, "But that's my job."
She laughed with him and gave him a playful punch on the arm, which he pretended was terribly painful so she could kiss it and make it better. Anyone who saw them together would have thought they were two young lovers, and not a pair of lost, confused souls trying to find their way from friendship to each other.
Eventually, their wanderings stopped in front of the Santa Mera Public Library. They looked at each other for a while, and Steve finally shrugged and said softly, "I guess we might as well go in."
"Are we going anywhere in particular, Mags?"
"No, gringo, just…damos un paseo. Going for the walk, I think you say?"
"*A* walk, Maggie."
"Oh, sí, claro."
Steve smiled.
The B & B was an old, converted Victorian house just a few blocks from the main commercial area of town, and as they made their way down the street, the houses became fewer and fewer, giving way to little specialty shops, a bakery and a hairdresser, then discount stores. A Thom McAnn shoe store and a JCPenney's department store marked beginning of the true business sector.
Downtown Santa Mera was a single, wide, brick-paved street, shut off to automobile traffic between eight and eight every day. An eclectic collection of shops lined one side, and a number of imposing government buildings, including a post office, a town hall, a police station, and a jail, lined the other. Lovely little fountains, picnic areas, and small landscaped areas were scattered along both sides of the street, clearly filling in the spaces where vacant or condemned buildings had been. The pair window-shopped as they walked down the street side by side, and, stopping in one shop, Maggie picked out a floppy green hat that matched her outfit. She tried it on, and it looked good, but when she inspected the price tag, grimaced, and gingerly put it back on the display, Steve had to laugh.
"Too rich for your blood, huh?"
She grinned and said, "At that price, I would need a parasol, too, to protect it from the sun."
Stepping into a used bookstore, they browsed for quite some time. Maggie loved the musty, dusty smell, and Steve found the quiet atmosphere soothing. When they finally left, Steve had selected an antique medical text for his dad, and Maggie had a couple of well-worn paperbacks.
He arched one brow haughtily at her when she snickered at his selection.
Upon seeing his expression, she said, "Steve, I am sure your papi will appreciate the thoughtfulness, but that text is so old, antiguo, Galen himself could have written it."
"It just so happens my father collects antique medical texts, Maggie."
Maggie giggled. "Your papi collects *everything*, gringo."
Steve was forced to grin. "There's no denying fact," he admitted, "But the truth is, at Christmas, while we were shopping for Jesse and Amanda, I saw him admiring a volume with this same title, but he put it back. When I went back to check it out, the price was outrageous. It would have blown my budget, so I didn't get it for him. This copy I can afford."
"Is it authentic?"
Steve's face rumpled into a frown as he considered. "I think so," he said uncertainly.
As he gave Steve his change, the cashier said, "I assure you, it is, sir, but if you are unsatisfied, our return policy is at the bottom of the receipt."
"Thank you," Steve said as he took the change and, looking at Maggie, he gave a little 'hmph' that sounded just like, "So there."
Scrutinizing Maggie's purchases, Steve laughed out loud.
"A woman of your education and accomplishments reads trash like that?"
"What do you mean, 'trash?'"
"Maggie," he said, thumbing the pages of the much-abused Harlequins. "This stuff is drivel for lonely housewives and undereducated, oversexed adolescents who never grew up."
She drew herself up to her full height, which was considerable, even in Steve's estimation, and when she narrowed her eyes at him, he involuntarily took a step back.
"That is the point, gringo." The way she said the word 'gringo,' it could just as well have been 'insect.' "Fish is brain food, and this is brain candy. After a hard day at work, even with *my* sometimes not so good English, I can read one of these in a few hours, and feel good at the end." She handed the cashier a ten-dollar bill and waited for him to make change.
"It's totally unrealistic."
"No more than what you have bought your papi."
Steve started to protest that his purchase had value as an antique and a document of past scientific inquiry, but Maggie overrode him.
"The whole point is fantasy and escape, Steve. Dos novios, two lovers always overcome the worst possible horrors to be together and happy in the end. It is a formula. I know what's going to happen. Tell me a title, and I could probably write one of my own. It is comforting. Two people who love each other get a happy ending."
She probably didn't mean to, but something she said struck a chord within Steve. He had loved Lynn, he knew that now, and he was pretty sure he loved Maggie, but for some reason he doubted he would ever be allowed a happy ending.
Crestfallen, he said simply, "Point taken. I'll be waiting outside."
He went out and sat on a bench in front of the store.
Maggie stood outside the bookstore watching Steve for several minutes. He was seated on the bench, leaning back, staring off into space, unaware that he was being watched. Apparently, something she said had affected him, but she didn't know what.
Finally, she walked over and sat beside him. Putting a hand on his arm, she said simply, "Steve?"
Steve tensed when Maggie spoke his name. She was clearly issuing an invitation to talk about what was on his mind, but he didn't want to talk right now. He didn't want to talk about Lynn and what had happened to her. He didn't want to talk about Maggie and himself and all that had already passed between them and what might come in the future. And he most definitely did *not* want to talk about happy endings that never came true.
Maggie paused long enough for Steve to say something if he felt like talking, but when he tensed and remained silent, she knew what he wanted.
"Bueno, let's keep shopping, then."
Steve turned his hand over, and reached for Maggie's, which was still resting on his forearm. Lacing his fingers through hers, he pulled the hand up to his lips for a quick kiss, and said affectionately, "Thanks, Mags."
They wandered aimlessly a while longer, walking down the street hand-in hand, window shopping and talking about things of little consequence. At the far end of the commercial district, Maggie coaxed Steve into a small boutique with her as she shopped for shoes. After nearly half an hour, she finally settled on a pair of orange suede sandals with impossibly high heels and long, soft, suede ties that wrapped, criss-crossing, all the way up her shapely legs to the knees.
"I have the perfect outfit for these," she said. "What do you think?"
She walked toward him, tall, confident, moving as if she were made to wear the six-inch heels, and she stopped so close to him, he could feel the heat from her body.
He grinned, *up* at her, he realized, with some…excitement?…as she now towered over him by at least four inches, and said hoarsely, "I think I like them a lot."
She smiled *down* at him, and he wondered if this is how Jesse sometimes felt.
"Just wait until you see the dress," she whispered.
There was something in her voice, part threat, part promise, and completely enthralling. Her eyes met his, and Steve's heart leapt to his throat.
Maggie looked down into the endless depths of those impossible blue eyes and waited. Steve needed to make the next move. If he needed a friend, he could step away; if he wanted more, he could take what he wanted. She wanted him more than anything, but she would not push. She ached for his kiss, burned for his touch, but she would not push. They were inches apart, but she would not push. She'd give him anything he asked, but he had to reach out for it. She would not push. When he put his hands on her, a tremor ran through her. Suddenly, she wanted to wrap herself around him and cling to him forever, but she *would not* push.
Steve moved closer, and placed his hands at her waist. He felt her tremble at his touch. She stepped towards him and closed the gap between their bodies. He looked up into those dark, dark eyes, black as the night sky and eternal as the universe, and he was amazed that they could glow so brightly with passion. He let his hands work their way up her back until they were tangled in her thick, curly, black hair, and he pulled her face fractionally closer to his…
"Excuse me!"
Steve and Maggie jumped apart, and Maggie cried out as she twisted her ankle. Steve caught her before she fell, and helped her limp over to a seat. The poor clerk who had interrupted was clearly embarrassed, but not half so much as Steve and Maggie. All three tried to sputter and stammer humiliated apologies to the other two, and no one could understand a word anybody was saying until Maggie raised her voice and said, "¡Cállense!"
She continued in English for the benefit of the clerk.
"Please, stop talking." She looked at the clerk and grinned. "I love the shoes. I'll take them." She undid the ties as Steve brought her the box. Then she rooted through her purse for her credit card, handed the whole mess to the clerk and said, "Would you be so kind as to do me the favor of ringing them up and bringing the slip to me to sign. I think I may have injured my ankle and need a few minutes to make sure I can walk back to our hotel."
The clerk nodded and shuffled away to ring up the sale.
"Mags, are you hurt? Do you need me to get some ice or take you to the hospital?"
Maggie chuckled and said, "I think I can just walk it off, but this saves everyone some…vergüenza...I think the word is sham? Would you bring me my sneakers?"
Steve grinned and said, "Shame. A sham is a deception or a trick."
"Maldito silent 'e'," she muttered as she slipped her tennis shoes on. "It's no wonder Americans can't spell their own language."
Steve grinned again and said, "You're an American, too, sweetheart."
Looking up at him, she winked, and said, "That is because God blessed America…with me."
She stood up, and took a couple of tentative steps, and by the time the clerk returned, she had decided she was fit to walk back to the hotel. Even though she insisted she was fine, Steve demanded to carry her packages and as they left the store, he slipped his arm around her waist to offer support. They crossed the street and headed back toward the hotel, which was about ten blocks away, and every other bench, he would pause and ask Maggie if she wanted to sit, until finally, she promised him she would tell him if she needed to sit and that he should stop inquiring because it was getting on her nerves.
He just smiled and said, "But that's my job."
She laughed with him and gave him a playful punch on the arm, which he pretended was terribly painful so she could kiss it and make it better. Anyone who saw them together would have thought they were two young lovers, and not a pair of lost, confused souls trying to find their way from friendship to each other.
Eventually, their wanderings stopped in front of the Santa Mera Public Library. They looked at each other for a while, and Steve finally shrugged and said softly, "I guess we might as well go in."