13. Maggie #2
Mama waits until the door closes before turning back toward me, and the look on her face makes my stomach dip.
Years of motherhood have given her almost supernatural abilities when it comes to reading me, and I know that look.
It’s the same look she gave me when I was sixteen and tried to hide that I had been crying in the school bathroom.
The same look she gave me the night I bought the shelter and pretended I wasn’t terrified.
“Oh no,” I murmur, reaching for my orange juice.
Mama narrows her eyes. “Don't you go hidin’ behind that orange juice.”
“I didn't even say anythin’ yet.”
“You didn't have to.” She sits on the edge of the bed beside me and reaches for my hand. “I know that look, baby. Something else is goin’ on.”
My fingers tighten around the glass. I’ve imagined this conversation a hundred times over the last week, but none of them involved nearly dying in a fire first. None of them involved sitting in Alexei’s bed with a bruised shoulder and smoke still clawing at my throat, while Mama looks at me like she can see straight through my ribs.
“Magnolia,” Mama says, her voice gentler now.
The use of my full name does me in.
“I’m pregnant,” I blurt.
The words leave me in a rush, and for a few painful heartbeats, silence fills the room.
Mama simply stares at me, and panic rushes in because maybe this was not the right time after all.
Maybe nearly dying in a fire is not exactly the ideal moment to tell your mother she’s going to be a grandmother.
“I know the timin’ ain’t exactly ideal,” I say quickly, words tumbling over one another while my cheeks heat.
“And things are complicated, and we haven’t known each other all that long, and I swear I was gonna tell you, but then the shelter and the hospital and everything happened, and I didn’t want you findin’ out while you were already scared half to death. ”
Mama bursts into tears.
I stop talking, every prepared explanation disappearing right along with the rest of my thoughts. For one awful heartbeat, I think I’ve upset her. Then she laughs through her tears and pulls me into another careful hug, one hand cupping the back of my head like she did when I was little.
“Oh honey,” she whispers against my hair.
I hug her back, still trying to process the fact that she’s crying happy tears.
“You’re havin’ a baby,” she says, sounding awestruck as she pulls back enough to look at me. “My baby is havin’ a baby.”
“Yeah,” I whisper, my own eyes filling again.
Mama presses one trembling hand against her chest. “Lord have mercy. I’m gonna be a grandma.”
Mama hugs me tightly, and this time I hold on just as hard. “This little one is already loved somethin’ fierce,” she says when she finally pulls back.
I think about being a little girl in the diner after school, doing homework in a corner booth while Mama worked doubles.
I think about all the ways she gave me everything she had, even when she had almost nothing.
I think about her becoming a grandma and knowing, without a doubt, that this baby will never wonder whether they are wanted.
Several minutes pass before a discreet knock sounds at the door. Alexei steps inside, and one look at our faces is all it takes. Concern crosses his face, and every muscle in his body seems to go on guard.
“Is everything alright?” he asks, moving toward the bed.
Mama turns toward him with tears still shining in her eyes. “Oh, sweetheart.”
Alexei freezes.
Before he can retreat, Mama crosses the room and wraps him in a hug.
He goes completely still, arms held slightly away from his sides as if he’s been confronted with a weapon he doesn’t know how to disarm. I press my lips together because watching six-foot-two Alexei Agapov endure an emotional Southern mother hug might be one of the greatest moments of my life.
Mama finally releases him and pats his chest like he’s a nervous church boy instead of a man who ran into a burning building yesterday. “I’m sorry,” she says, wiping at her eyes. “I’m just happy.”
Alexei looks mildly alarmed until his eyes find mine.
I smile through lingering tears. “I told her.”
Understanding appears on his face, followed by something deeper that makes my heart ache. Mama reaches for his hand, and to his credit, he lets her take it.
“Thank you,” Mama says, squeezing his fingers.
Alexei looks genuinely confused. “For what?”
“For bringin’ my baby home,” she says, her voice thick with emotion.
Alexei glances toward me before looking back at Mama. His posture remains composed, but his thumb brushes once over Mama’s knuckles before he releases her hand. “There was nowhere else she was going.”
My heart stumbles.
Mama smiles knowingly. “Oh, I know.”
Alexei clears his throat, clearly deciding he has had enough feelings for one morning. “Roman stopped by earlier.”
The change of subject is so transparently Alexei that I almost laugh, and Mama notices too because her mouth twitches before she wisely says nothing. Instead, she looks between the two of us before stepping away from Alexei and walking back to my bedside.
“Well,” she says, taking my hand in hers, “That's my cue to head out and let y’all talk.”
“Mama, you don't have to go.”
“Baby, I'll be back later to check on you.” She leans down and kisses my forehead. “Right now, I think the two of you need some time alone.”
I squeeze her hand. “I love you.”
“I love you too, sweetheart.” She brushes her fingers through my hair one more time before straightening. “Get some rest, and don't you go worryin’ about a thing.”
Then she smiles at Alexei. “You take care of my girl and my grandbaby.”
“Always,” Alexei assures her.
Satisfied with that answer, Mama nods once and heads for the door.
Alexei moves closer to the bed, resting one hand on the carved wooden footboard. “The fire department completed their preliminary investigation this morning.”
The knot returns before I can stop it. “And?”
“Preliminary findings suggest the fire originated in the laundry room due to an electrical malfunction,” he says carefully.
Relief rushes through me, powerful and almost dizzying, followed so fast by guilt that I have to look down at my hands.
For weeks, I’ve lived waiting for the next terrible thing to happen.
Somewhere along the way, fear changed me enough that part of me truly believed someone might have deliberately set that fire.
“Thank goodness,” I whisper, rubbing my thumb over the blanket.
Alexei stays silent.
When I look at him, his face has gone harder. “You don’t believe it,” I say.
His eyes meet mine. “I no longer believe in coincidences.”
“Alexei,” I begin, though I don’t know whether I mean to reassure him or stop him from saying the fear already forming inside me.
“You nearly died yesterday,” he says, his voice low and controlled in a way that makes the words hit harder. “I won’t ignore anything that could place you or the baby at risk.”
The fear from yesterday still lives behind his eyes, and the same fear lives inside me. I reach for his hand because I need the contact, and he takes it, closing his fingers around mine.
Whatever comes next, we’ll face it together.
By late afternoon, cabin fever has officially won.
Alexei argues that a full day of rest would be beneficial while standing in the foyer like a very handsome, very unreasonable wall.
Mama agrees with him while adjusting the strap of her purse.
That means I spend the better part of twenty minutes being outnumbered by people who love me, which is sweet in theory and deeply inconvenient in practice.
“I’m not made for bed rest,” I inform them, lifting my chin even though my throat still aches and my body feels like it got dragged behind a truck.
Alexei’s mouth flattens as he looks at the purse hanging from my shoulder. “That’s not happening.”
“And I appreciate everybody worryin’ about me,” I say, keeping my voice as reasonable as possible, “but the shelter needs me.”
Mama plants her hands on her hips. “The shelter has volunteers.”
“Jules is there,” I point out.
Mama snorts, which is not exactly helpful. “Baby, that boy is currently runnin’ on caffeine, stubbornness, and pure spite.”
“Exactly.” I gesture toward Mama as if she has just proven my case. “Which means somebody responsible needs to be there.”
Alexei’s gaze narrows. “You’re implying Jules is irresponsible.”
“I’m implyin’ Jules once attempted to climb a ladder while sufferin’ from vertigo because a kitten climbed onto the storage shelves and refused to come down.”
Mama shakes her head with a sigh. “Lord, he really did do that.”
Alexei exhales slowly, the look on his face making it obvious he’s already lost this battle and dislikes knowing it. He steps closer and gently removes the purse strap from my shoulder before handing it to Luka, who stands near the door pretending not to listen.
“You won’t overexert yourself,” Alexei instructs.
“I won’t,” I promise, even though he looks unconvinced.
“You won’t lift anything.”
“I won’t.”
“You’ll sit down if you become tired.”
I smile sweetly and reach up to straighten the collar of his shirt, mostly because touching him makes the worry in his face ease. “Yes, sir.”
His eyes lower to my mouth for half a heartbeat before returning to mine. “You say that as though you intend to obey.”
“I intend to try.”
“That’s not the same thing.”
“No,” I agree, patting his chest. “But it’s honest.”
Mama laughs behind us.
Alexei searches my face for a few seconds before leaning down and kissing my forehead. “We aren’t staying long,” he says quietly. “Fifteen minutes. Then you’re coming home to rest.”
I open my mouth to argue.
He lifts one dark eyebrow.
I close it again.
Twenty minutes later, Luka pulls the SUV into the shelter parking lot, and all my stubborn confidence drains right out of me.