* * *
—
When Maggie returned from work, she noticed Phil’s truck in front of the house. She parked behind him and saw Phil and Joan diligently working in the front yard.
“Joan? Phil?” They looked up as she approached, both grinning.
Roy Herbert stood behind the torn screen door, cursing up a storm.
“Dad,” Maggie shouted. “Keep your mouth shut.”
Her father’s eyes widened with shock before he glared at her as if to say she was a traitor to all that was right and good. Maggie ignored him, as she so often needed to if she intended on keeping her sanity.
“What are you two doing?” Maggie asked her friends, although it was obvious they’d been working in the yard for hours. Phil had mowed what lawn there was, while Joan tackled what had once been flower beds. The wheelbarrow was filled to capacity with clippings and weeds. The sun-parched lawn had been enhanced with what looked like a green spray.
“What do you think we’re doing?” Joan asked, leaning on a rake. “If you’re going to get that loan, we need to get this house into shape.”
“I’ve got the lawn mowed,” Phil said, “and spread seed, which is why the lawn has this green tinge. I was about to water it. If the seeds take root, your dad will need to water it every morning and night.”
“I’m clearing the flower beds,” Joan said, and motioned with her gloved hands toward the semicircle she’d shaped on both sides of the porch. From the way the sweat dampened her bangs, she had labored long and hard. Flowers had always been Joan’s weakness. To her friend’s way of thinking, no home was complete without flower beds. She’d once told Maggie that flowers said everything about a home and its occupants.
“Where did you get the hose?” Maggie asked, knowing full well her father didn’t own one.
Phil answered her. “It was one I had lying around, taking up space.”
Maggie was overwhelmed. Putting the yard in order was a small fraction of the work that needed to be done, but it was a start. She was deeply touched and appreciative, even if her father wasn’t.
“I don’t know what I ever did to deserve such wonderful friends,” she whispered, near tears.
Joan set aside the rake and hugged Maggie. “We love you,” she whispered. “If I’d had a daughter, I would want her to be just like you.”
That was all Maggie needed to let the tears flow. It’d been a hellish week with her dad. She missed Nick and lived in fear that everything she had sacrificed would be in vain if her father gave in to the lure of alcohol.
“Thank you,” she whispered back, hardly able to get the words out.
* * *
—
Maggie had Saturday off. She woke to the sound of her father moaning, leaning over the toilet, emptying everything that remained in his stomach. The space at the rehab center would be available soon, thankfully. When she went to him, he cursed and told her to leave him be. As she had in the past, she ignored him, got a fresh washcloth, and gave it to him to wash his face.
An hour later he was sitting in front of the television, looking pale and out of sorts. Maggie had gotten him to eat a slice of toast and a banana. His appetite had been nonexistent since he was completely off alcohol. It was a triumph that he ate both.
“Time to water the lawn,” she told him, as she turned off the television.
He looked at her as if she was insane. “Do what?”
She wasn’t putting up with his attitude or arguing. “My friends planted a lawn, and it needs to be watered. I’m doing everything I can to keep us afloat, Dad, and I refuse to do it alone. I need you to pitch in. You aren’t helpless.”
“I…I have a bad back.”
“You have a bad attitude. Now get your butt outside and water that yard.” It looked like he was about to argue. He managed a few less than choice words as he made a spectacle of himself getting out of the chair. To her amazement, he did as she asked.
When he finished, he glared at her. “You happy?”
Maggie checked his work, smiled, and said, “Good job, Dad.”
He grumbled under his breath and fell into his recliner as if completely spent.
Maggie went back to her laptop, looking online for how to repair the stovetop burners. Only one was serviceable. The oven hadn’t worked in years. Her hope was that it would be an easy fix.
“What in the hell!” her father shouted. “Maggie, Maggie, do something. Stop the noise.”
Intent on reading the instructions listed on her computer, Maggie hadn’t heard anything until her father started yelling. The sound was of someone hammering.
Leaving the kitchen, she went to the front of the house. To her shock she found Nick prying away the porch steps that were about to collapse.
“Nick.” She whispered his name, hardly able to believe her eyes.
He must have heard her because he looked up and then, without a word, continued. Opening the screen door, Maggie stepped outside.
Nick seemed unaware that she was standing less than two feet away. That didn’t stop her, though. “Nick Sample, look at me.”
He looked up, and before he could say a word, she flew off the porch and into his arms. The force knocked him off-balance and he nearly toppled. He dropped his hammer and grabbed hold of Maggie around the waist, lifting her from the ground.
“What the—”
Maggie didn’t give him a chance to speak. Wrapping her legs around his waist, she kissed him with everything that was in her heart. At first he resisted, but it didn’t take long for him to return the fervor. Slanting her mouth one way and then another, she continued kissing him until they were both completely involved with each other.
“You came to help!” Maggie could barely believe her eyes. Seeing Nick meant everything. Still angry, she slapped his shoulder.
“Hey,” he cried. “Okay, okay, I’m an idiot just the way Kurt said.”
“Yes, you are. First you’re furious I came to live with your mom and want me gone, and then when I do leave, you’re furious again.”
Nick blushed at the truth. “You’re right. I can be a real bonehead, but in my favor, I am willing to admit my flaws. I’ve been miserable without you and hope you have a forgiving nature.”
To show him she did, Maggie kissed him again, and they quickly became so caught up in each other that they didn’t hear her father until he started shouting.
“Dad,” Maggie said, sliding down Nick’s body. “This is Nick.”
Her father scowled at Nick; his eyes narrowed. “Are you taking advantage of my daughter?”
Nick stiffened and met her father’s gaze head-on. “Are you?”
“I asked you first.” The two men glared at each other like gunfighters at the O.K. Corral.
“I hope to take full advantage of your daughter when the time is right,” Nick admitted.
Maggie burst out laughing. “If I don’t take full advantage of you first.”
Her father wasn’t finished with him. “What the hell are you doing tearing up my house?”
“I’m repairing these steps, old man, and you should be grateful. Fact is, I could use a bit of help, so get out here.”
“Like hell I will.”