Chapter Twenty-Nine

Maggie

After I finish my last final exam, I head over to the administration building. The Dean of Students is hosting a luncheon for the high-risk students here on scholarship. I’m probably on their shit-list after the letter I wrote, telling them they needed to come up with a new name for their program.

I hurry into the wood-paneled meeting room, grabbing an iced tea before I sit down between two of the other girls from my program. Denise, who’s a single mom of three and Josie, a single mom with twin toddlers.

Some old fart stands at the lectern droning on about goals and values. The school doesn’t call us high-risk anymore. After my letter, they changed the name. Now they call us high-talent. Whatever. I’m just glad to be here. The old fart reverts to the subject of goals.

“My goal is to eat lunch before I pass out from low blood sugar,” Denise says. “Or boredom.”

When he’s done, they serve lunch to the group, starting with soup and moving on to a frou-frou main course of grilled chicken breast and steamed vegetables.

My stomach is in knots and has been all day. I’m waiting to hear what the school will give me for fall courses. Finally, they hand out envelopes with grants. Denise and Josie both get full scholarships and I come in a hair under ninety percent, since I don’t have dependents. I’m grateful.

“What’s Romeo going to say about your grant?” Denise asks after lunch as we’re leaving.

I shrug. “I don’t really know.”

“That rock on your finger could pay for all four years.”

I glance down at the ring and sigh. It’s true. The ring makes me look more like the regular students at Stowe, instead of high-risk. Funny how I can’t get that phrase out of my mind. To me everything seems high-risk. Like the next catastrophe is right around the corner.

When Denise and Josie found out I’d gotten married they insisted I go to the school’s clinic and get on birth control pills. I didn’t tell them any of the details of Trig and my marriage, but went ahead and did as they suggested. I know Trig and I won’t have an arrangement with benefits, but it’s best to be prepared. Just in case… oh, I don’t know. We might get marooned on a desert island or something like that.

I drive home, thinking about what I’m going to say to Trig. He knows I had this lunch today and that I’ll find out about funding for the fall semester.

He probably won’t even ask. Trig and I have been married six weeks and I’m sure we talk less now than we did when I lived with Wes and Jane. At least then, I saw him a few times a week for dinner. Now, his communication revolves around a few words here, a few words there, mostly in the mornings, standing by the coffee machine.

He’s always growly in the morning. We watch the coffee fill the cup and argue over who gets the first coffee. It’s the one ritual we have. He tells me that he should get the first cup because he busts his ass all day while all I do is sit around and study.

Even though he doesn’t crack a smile, I know he’s teasing me and he always hands me the first coffee. If his sexy voice weren’t enough to drive me wild, his bare chest, powerfully muscled, derails any rational thought I might have first thing in the morning.

We part ways around eight. He heads into town while I head to school, the opposite direction. I get home before he does. A couple of times a week, I’ll go to Wes and Jane’s house because I miss them and the boys. Every so often, Trig and I show up at the same time and we all eat dinner together. Just like we used to.

I worry about school and how I’ll come up with the rest of my tuition, but my biggest stress right now is the court hearing. I still haven’t gotten my letter. I thought by now I’d be done with the whole mess.

When I get home, I park beside Trig’s truck. The dogs bound off the porch to greet me and while I pet them, I wonder why he’s home early. I hope he doesn’t have a headache. I hurry inside, my worry growing with every step. He told me to stay out of his room, but if he’s hurting I’ll have to help him. Nothing would keep me from him.

I step inside and the first thing I see is a vase of flowers. Roses. A vase sits in the middle of the table filled with pink and white roses. Drawing closer, I’m struck with their perfume. Gorgeous. I smile and inhale deeply.

“You like them?” Trig asks from the doorway.

“I do. What’s the occasion?”

“You finished your first semester.”

He crosses to me and instead of wearing his usual work clothes, he’s in boots and jeans and a crisp button down shirt. The white fabric contrasts with his deep tan. The edge of his tattoo is barely visible.

“You look… nice,” I say, shyly. A tacit understanding exists between us. We’re not supposed to say anything complimentary, or mention looks. I can’t resist and he shows no sign of being displeased.

He smiles. “I took off early to get you some flowers.”

“They’re beautiful.”

“And I thought I’d take you out for dinner.”

“Like a date?” I’m venturing onto thin ice here and I half-expect a rebuff.

“We’re going to Wes and Jane’s but if you want to call it a date, go right ahead.”

A short while later, we’re on the road. I’ve changed into jeans and boots too. I wear a light sweater. Every week, Trig sets out money for me, leaving it on my bedside table. It’s more than enough to cover gas or lunch. I always have plenty to go clothes shopping. From the beginning, I knew he hated my black stuff, so I’ve made a point to buy things with a little color.

“I got my grant for the fall,” I tell him. “It will cover ninety percent and none of summer school.”

“You want to go to summer school?”

“I do.”

He glances at me and then shakes his head. “I would think most girls your age would want to lay around the pool, or relax.”

Girls your age… What’s that supposed to mean, Grandpa? When I’d first met him I would have come back with a comment like that, but not now.

“I want to get school over with. You never know. My situation could change and I want that degree.”

He frowns. “Then take summer school.”

“I can’t afford it and it’s too late to get a loan.”

His frown deepens. “Who said anything about getting a loan?”

I’m not sure how to respond to that. Lots of kids take out loans. I plan on getting through school with grants, loans and part-time jobs.

“We’re married,” he says. “Which means I’m on the line for half of that loan.”

That actually hadn’t occurred to me. Holy shit, that’s shocking. If the grants don’t come through, I’m really up the creek. I stare out the window at the springtime landscape. Everything’s green and pretty from a week of rain. All I can think is how it might take six years to get a degree.

“If you want to go to summer school, then go, Maggie. You don’t need a grant or loan or job. I’ll pay for your schooling.”

Stowe tuition comes out to about a thousand dollars an hour. It’s private so it’s super-expensive.

“Summer school would cost twelve-thousand dollars,” I say quietly.

We pull into Wes and Jane’s neighborhood and drive along the wide, tree-lined streets.

“That’s fine, Maggie. I want what you want.” Parking the truck in the driveway, he turns to face me. “Unless what I want is better. Then I want what I want.”

This is the most we’ve spoken since we took our vows. It’s nice. I’ve missed his teasing.

“You’re doing all this nice stuff for me. I’ll pay you back. One day.”

Trig nods. “Damn straight.”

The door opens and Thomas blasts out, stopping at the top of the stairs. “They’re here!”

“There’s a reason I married a smart woman,” Trig says quietly.

We get out of the truck and walk up to the house. Our steps fall in unison and I imagine what it would be like to reach for his hand, or even better, if he were to reach for mine.

“Why’s that?” I ask.

“When you graduate, you can go make millions and I’ll be a kept man.”

His eyes light with a soft warmth that makes my breath catch. We’re drawing close to the boys but I want him to pull me close and wrap me in his arms. I shiver. He offers me everything I could need but not the one thing I want. Him.