Love Rewritten

Love Rewritten

The haggard expression on Liam’s face told Maggie all she needed to know.  Her heart sank as he dropped his rusty lunchbox beside the door and the ache within her swelled to unbearable proportions.  His dark eyes, so troubled, so tired, shifted to the stack of unpaid bills piled on the table where he dropped his keys.  Wide shoulders dropped beneath the weight of an invisible burden before he lifted his head and forced a smile.

Despite a decade of marriage and more hardships than she cared to remember, Maggie’s heart still leapt every time she saw that smile. 

“It wasn’t the most glamorous of jobs, but I’m sure going to miss seeing you in that uniform.”

Liam’s dark brow arched and amusement returned some of the sparkle in his gaze.  “Don’t fret, Maggs.  Maybe someone will come up with a janitorial calendar like that fireman one hanging in your sister’s kitchen.” 

She smothered a laugh as he crossed the room to sit beside her on their secondhand sofa.  The worn springs creaked in protest, a familiar and welcoming song.  Stretching his long legs before him, he regarded her under a serious visage.  “I wouldn’t bank on it though.”

She caught the smirk dancing on his lips and thwacked his shoulder with the dog-eared paperback in her hands.  Liam chuckled.  A moment later, he closed his eyes and his head lolled back to rest against the wall.  The levity between them faded, replaced with a silence neither felt the need to fill.  Maggie studied the hard planes of her husband’s face as he struggled with being jobless in a perishing economy.  She could feel him giving up and the prospect flooded her with panic. 

They had lost so much in the last six months: Liam’s bike, the house they worked so hard to buy, her car.  As if that wasn’t enough, they were still reeling from Maggie’s fourth miscarriage.  Another dream lost, another hope dashed.  What could she possibly say to ease his pain when it took everything she had to keep a brave face in play and squelch her own?

“We’ll get by. We always do.  Something better will come along.”  The words sounded uncertain and fearful, even to her.  Twisting the hem of her tee shirt around trembling fingers, she searched her man’s face for some sign of hope.

“Maggie . . .” Liam shook his head with a quiet sigh before turning his head and opening his eyes to confront her.  “We got nothing.  We don’t have two pennies to rub together, let alone enough money to float us until I find something.  If we survive on anything, it will be love alone.”

She fought back tears, her heart aching with the defeat weighting his voice.  “You say that like it is a bad thing.”

He stared at her for a long moment, his whiskey eyes turning a darker hue.  The broad slope of his shoulders slumped and he sighed his shame.  “You deserve so much better than this.  I promised your daddy, Maggie.  I looked him dead in the eye and swore I would take good care of you.”

“You have, baby.”  Her whisper hung unanswered between them.  Her gaze swept over the dull wood floors, the wood having lost its sheen decades before they moved in.  It flitted across the sparse hodgepodge of furniture and their meager belongings, searching for anything to validate her assurances.  She had nothing, but all she'd ever wanted was him.

Liam rose without a word and disappeared into the hall.  An unwelcome tear slid down her cheek.  Her fists pressed deep into the sides of her thighs in her attempt to squelch the sob rising in her throat.  Fierce hunger made her stomach clench and rumble.  It was a constant companion, and often the only one to break the unending silence.

She’d lost every dream she had, and damn near every belonging, but none of that had mattered as long as she had Liam.  Tonight, she sensed a tension that had never there before.  It went beyond a gap.  What she felt was a void they may never bridge.  He was giving up, giving in to the darkness and oppression life used to test people.  He was drowning, and this time, Maggie didn’t know if she had the strength left to save him.  Her body lacked nourishment, her soul was just as starved, and her womb barren . . . as barren as the proverbial pot rumored to be at the end of every rainbow.

There were no rainbows anymore, only rain. 

Her father had been a tough, Irish coalminer.  He worked hard and never complained, a trooper who faced life head on.  Maggie could still feel the press of his gruff whiskers against her cheek when she closed her eyes . . . still hear his raspy voice as he told her to be strong and never quit.

“Life isn’t always fun, Magpie.  It’s got many ups and downs.  We just need to learn to sit back and enjoy the ride.”

Her lips quirked into a rueful smile.  She’d always thought her father so wise, so invincible.  Even when cancer ravaged his lungs and his burly frame turned gaunt, Maggie believed he would pull through.  But, weeks after walking her down the aisle, Jack Connor was gone.

She could still see the silver casket easing below ground and feel the fierce bite of her mother’s bony fingers on her hand.

“Hold on to love.  Enjoy every moment while you still can.  Happy endings are just stories that haven’t finished yet.”

She had brushed it off as the mad ramblings of a grieving widow at the time.  Now, as Liam, love, and happiness slipped farther away, Maggie wasn’t so sure.  They weren’t pulling together; they were falling apart.  Life had rewritten their happy ending.  Their story was almost finished and she found no comfort in the truth.


WC ~ 996

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