Free The Unforgiven by Patricia MacDonald Page B

of the coffee. A sigh escaped her. Nothing was going as it should, she thought.
    “There’s Evy’s house, on the left,” said Jess, gesticulating out the window. Maggie turned and saw the flash of gray, and a sign reading Barrington Street, as they slowed at the corner. “What’s the sigh for?” he asked.
    “Nothing,” said Maggie firmly. “That’s where Evy lives?”
    “Are you sure?” Jess asked, frowning at her.
    “Positive. What do her parents do?”
    “Oh, it’s just Evy and her grandmother. Her grandmother’s an invalid. She’s totally incapacitated. It’s a sad thing. Evy takes good care of her all alone. It’s hard on her.”
    Maggie recalled the look of dismay on Evy’s facewhen she saw Maggie and Jess walking back arm in arm from lunch. She looked over at Jess’s angular, sensitive face and wondered what role that handsome face might play in the lonely life of a girl stuck taking care of her grandmother. Once again she was overcome by the sense that she should not intrude in their lives. She had been there. She knew what it felt like. For a moment Roger was vivid to her again. Her fantasy come true—and the beginning of her long nightmare.
    “I’d better be getting back.” Reality struck her like a slap.
    “We’re almost there,” he said. He glanced over at her. “Are you in a hurry?”
    “Well, it’s my first weekend, you know. I have a lot of things I want to do around the house—”
    “Okay,” he interrupted her. “I understand.”
    They drove in silence for the next five minutes, until they reached the Thornhill house. They pulled in the driveway, and Jess shut off the engine.
    “I’d ask you in,” Maggie said hurriedly, “but I didn’t have a chance to go shopping and I don’t really have anything…”
    “Never mind,” said Jess. “You do what you have to do.”
    Maggie put her fingers on the door handle and bit her lip. Then she turned back to him. “I had a lovely time,” she said. “Thank you again.”
    Jess leaned over and cupped his hand lightly under her face. He drew her to him and gave her a gentle kiss, which she felt singing all through her body in spite of herself. “So did I,” he said, letting her go.
    Maggie opened the door and got out without lookingback at him. When she reached the steps she turned back to see the car backing down the driveway. She waved briefly, then rushed through the door and into the house.
    She could hear the faint sound of the motor as the car departed. For a few moments she stood there, her back to the door, her eyes closed. She ran the day through her mind again, like a home movie, his face and his eyes disturbing and exciting her. Then she shook her head, wondering how she would ever get out of this. Wondering if she wanted to get out of it.
    She flopped down in a living-room chair. All right, all right, she thought. You do like him. You are attracted to him. That doesn’t mean you have to get involved with him. She winced, remembering her lie he had repeated so ingenuously to Sadie about the apartment. He was such an honest man. How could she ever tell him the truth? If she did, he certainly wouldn’t want her.
    But her mind kept running back over the things he’d said, the way he looked at her. He had even brought her a present. She could not help but smile when she thought of how shy he had seemed in offering it to her. She glanced up at the mantelpiece to admire his gift.
    The bottle was gone.
    Maggie leaped from her chair and approached the mantelpiece. She ran her hands over its smooth surface, even though she could see clearly that the amber vial was not there. “I put it here,” she said aloud. Then she wheeled around, her eyes searching the room as if she expected to see someone behind her.
    The room was in perfect order, just as she left it. She turned back to the mantel and stared at her fingerscurved tensely around its edge. Someone had been in the house. That was the only possible explanation. Thieves?