Maggie's Five ...the first in a LOVE story by Sandra Fitzgerald Read Free Book Online Page B

So I snuck
out and found a big arse tree to sit under.
    My head’s
swimming and I can see that I’m holding a glass in my other hand,
but can’t seem to feel it under my fingers. I lift it up and look
at the sky through it, twisting and turning it, watching the
sparkle and soft colours reflect off the crystal, and eventually
hold it upside down. It’s empty. I must need a drink then. I raise
the bottle to my lips and swallow the tepid liquid until it’s as
empty as I am. My sluggish gaze goes to the light reflecting off
the large diamond on my finger. My hand lowers, my thumbnail
catches in the band.
    One night.
That’s all he got to see me wear it. One lousy night, after he’d
got down on one knee and asked me to marry him every day for the
rest of his life. If only we knew the rest of his life would come
to an end so soon. The night that we made love for the very last
time. When Brendan carried me for the last time, held me in our
bed, kissed me before going to sleep… for the very last time. If we
only knew…
    “ There you are, Chicken.”
    I startle a
little then look up. And up. Jon’s just so darn tall.
    I roll my eyes.
“Ugh, not you too.”
    His deep chuckle
is comforting. Annoying, but comforting. “It kinda fits you know.
You’re still smaller than anyone I know.”
    “ I’m
average height for a woman so you can shut right up.” My head tips
back by itself, suddenly too heavy for my neck. My hair catches
with the bark of the tree. “I wonder if the girls would have grown
to average,” I speculate out loud, lolling my head from side to
side over the splintering trunk. “Suddenly it sounds pretty darn
good to just be average, don’t it Jonny Boy?”
    “ They
were never average Maggie Mae.”
    We used to think
the nick-names we gave each other sounded so cool when we were
kids, so Bonnie and Clyde , but now they just sound like bad,
out-dated songs. It’s funny how we never gave one to Brendan, even
though he was always the one coming to our rescue when we bit off
more than we could chew - which was most of the time. Maybe we
should have tagged him the Lone Ranger. He certainly was perfect
enough; to me anyway.
    “ It’s
time, Maggie,” Jon whispers from his seat beside me. “And this
ground is killing my arse. How can you sit there without moving for
so long?”
    “ Can’t feel it anymore” I reply, slurring some of my
words.
    “ You
can’t feel what, the ground or your butt?” I can hear the smile in
his voice and it makes me smile too.
    “ Yep.” I lift my eyes and tilt my chin towards the sun’s rays
as it breaks free of a small white cloud and floods us in its
warmth.
    “ Yep
what?”
    “ Just… yep.”
    “ Are
you drunk Maggie Mae?”
    “ Yep.”
    “ Yep?”
    “ Yep.”
    “ Good.”
    “ Isn’t this place the best, Jonny Boy?” I say, attempting to
stand without falling. “You can get married, christen the kids and
get buried all within walking distance.”
    Straightening, I
notice a figure leaning against the thick trunk a couple of trees
over. Jon steps in closer, hand on my arm to help keep me steady
then follows my line of sight.
    “ He’s
been there for as long as you’ve been here.”
    “ Why?”
    I know it’s rude
and an ungrateful thing to ask, but I can’t help but wonder. Luke’s
been fantastic, but he’s not family and it’s been years since we
saw each other.
    “ Be
easy on him Mags, he’s been through a tough time too,” is all Jon
offers as an explanation, before taking my arm and leading me to my
family’s final resting place.
    I think Jon’s
right. It is a good thing that I’m a little drunk right now. It
does make walking in heels a bitch though, so I stop and kick them
off, not bothering to pick them up.
    Apparently this
is a very important step to take towards acceptance, watching my
life being lowered into the cold dark ground and covered in damp
earth, trapped away for all eternity.
    I think whoever
told me that is full of shit.
    My