Closest To My Heart

Chapter Nineteen

When Tag had said that they were going to visit "an old friend", Maggie hadn't realized that he'd meant old in the literal sense. But the woman who looked up from the flower bed when Tag pulled his Jeep into her driveway had to be in her mid-to-late seventies, at least.

"May I help—" the elderly woman started as she struggled up to her feet, and then stopped short. "Taggert? Oh, my goodness! Is it really you?"

"It's really me," Tag confirmed, climbing out of the Jeep to stoop down and give her a hug. "Hi, Nana Mae."

Maggie circled timidly to the front of the Jeep, not wanting to intrude on the reunion. The older woman held Tag in a lengthy embrace before reaching up to press her small, arthritic hands to his face.

"You're home," she said, her milky blue eyes glimmering with happy tears. "You're finally home!"

Tag said something in reply, but Maggie couldn't make out the words from where she was standing. The woman he'd called Nana Mae smiled up at him and squeezed both of his hands in hers, then directed her gaze toward Maggie.

"Oh, and you've brought a guest!" she cooed, stepping around Tag and moving toward the Jeep. "What's your name, sweetheart?"

Maggie glanced toward Tag, but he stood rooted to his spot on the lawn with his back toward her, looking out over the property. Apparently, it was up to her to introduce herself.

"Maggie," she supplied, extending her hand. "Maggie O'Donnell. It's nice to meet you, ma'am."

"Psh, no need to be so formal," the older woman chuckled, bypassing Maggie's handshake in favor of a hug. "You go right ahead and call me Nana Mae—everybody else does!"

"Um, okay," Maggie hesitantly agreed, her eyes sliding briefly to Tag.

What is he doing? she wondered. Why is he just standing there?

"Taggert," Nana Mae called out as she looped her arm through Maggie's and started walking toward the house. "Be a dear and take that basket of weeds to the fire pit out back, would you? Maggie and I will go inside and get acquainted while I fix us all some iced tea."

Tag didn't respond, but set about doing as he'd been asked. Maggie's eyes followed him worriedly as he disappeared around the corner of the house.

"Don't you worry, Dear, he'll be fine," Nana Mae kidded, giving her arm a reassuring squeeze. "A little yard work never killed anyone."

Maggie smiled and followed the older woman up the front steps of the shingled bungalow. Once inside, she stood just inside the doorway while Nana Mae pulled back the curtains of the wide bay window to Maggie's right. Tiny flecks of dust danced on the air as sunlight flooded the cozy living area. A faded blue sofa sat facing the center of the room, and a maple rocking chair rested in one corner, affording its occupant an easy view of the outside world, as well as any guests seated on the sofa. Directly across from where she stood, Maggie could see into the kitchen through an open archway.

"It stays cooler in here if I keep the curtains closed," Nana Mae explained. "But we can't very well visit in the dark now, can we?" She turned to Maggie with a sweet smile. "Come in, come in! Make yourself at home."

"Um, actually," Maggie said, suddenly aware of the two cups of coffee she'd had at breakfast. "Would it be alright if I used your bathroom? We've been driving around for quite a while..."

"Oh, forgive me, where are my manners? Of course you'd want to freshen up first!" Nana Mae said, motioning to a short hallway to Maggie's left. "Right down there, first door on the left. Anything you might need is in the linen closet, so go right ahead and help yourself. I'll just pop outside to check on Tag, and then I'll get us all some tea, okay?"

*****

Tag tossed the last of the weeds into the fire pit and sank heavily into a nearby Adirondack chair. Mae had aged about ten years in the sixteen months since he'd seen her last, and he was shocked at how frail she'd become. That shouldn't have come as a surprise, he supposed. Nana Mae had been his surrogate grandmother since he was eight years old, and would turn eighty years old on her next birthday. Her hair had been grey for as long as he could remember, but the boisterous energy that she'd always had appeared to have faded, and it was obvious that Chris's death had taken its toll on her as well. Seeing the sorrow lurking in the depths of her aged blue eyes, it had hit Tag like a bolt of lightning to his chest that, in neglecting to look after Nana Mae, he had failed his best friend a second time.

"Sitting down on the job, I see."

Tag swallowed the lump in his throat and gave Mae a dim smile as she shuffled across the small patch of lawn.

"Just waiting for my next assignment," he said. "I see you've got some new plants over there by the shed. You want me to put them in the ground for you?"

"No, I'll do that later," Mae said with a dismissive wave. "I could've lugged those weeds out here myself, for that matter, but I figured you could use a minute alone."

Tag propped his forearms on his thighs and stared down at the grass between his feet.

"You've always been good at reading me, Mae."

"That's because you've always been terrible at hiding your feelings," she countered, pushing the hair back from his forehead as if he were a child. "It's hard for you, isn't it? Being here without him."

"No harder than it is for you, I imagine," Tag said, choking back tears as he looked up at her. "I wasn't there when he needed me, Mae."

"Oh, honey, there was nothing you could have done..."

"No, you don't understand," he continued, dropping his head into his hands. "I didn't tell you, but Chris called me, earlier that week. He called me, and I was home, but I didn't pick up. I stood right beside the phone and listened while he left a message on my answering machine. He told me again that he was sorry, that he wished he could take it back, and that he hoped that someday I could forgive him." Tag dragged a hand through his hair and raised his head. "But the thing is, I already had forgiven him, Mae. I knew he'd been having a hard time, and I knew that he didn't mean for things to go that far with Emily, but I let my pride get in the way. Jeezus, if I had just picked up the phone that day and told him—"

"It wouldn't have changed anything," Nana Mae insisted, tipping his face up to hers. "Tag, that call was his way of saying goodbye. He'd made up his mind, and nothing that any of us could have said or done would have changed it."

Tag tried to turn away as the tears trickled down over his face, but she wouldn't let him.

"You really believe that?" he choked out, feeling eight years old again.

Nana Mae gave him a benevolent smile. "I have to, honey, and so do you," she said, pulling a linen handkerchief from her pocket and wiping his face. "Otherwise, the 'if only's will eat us alive. But enough of all that. One of my boys has come home to me today, and that is reason to celebrate! So go over there and tighten that loose hinge on the shed real quick, and then come inside and join Maggie and me for some iced tea."

Once she'd slipped inside through the sliding patio door, Tag hauled himself up from the chair and started toward the shed, knowing full well that he wasn't likely to find any loose hinges. Chores had always been Nana Mae's way of helping the boys work through their emotions, whether it was anger or sadness or simply pent-up restless energy. It suddenly occurred to Tag that he'd been employing the same technique upon himself in the months since Chris's funeral, traveling from one photography job to the next with no breaks in between...

Until now, Tag realized. Until Maggie.