Changes of Heart by Paige Lee Elliston Page B

Maggie’s hand went directly to her big, two-quart Brita pitcher. The water was arctic—so cold that it made her teeth hurt—and she drank thirstily, directly from the spout of the pitcher. The quick chill that embraced her was as delicious as the pure water. As she leaned forward to replace the pitcher in the refrigerator she smelled her body and cringed. She reeked of sweat, dirt, and blood. She hobbled out of the kitchen and up the stairs to the bathroom.
    The shower was heavenly, even the stinging part when Maggie let the pressure of the water cleanse the cut on her knee. She reveled in the thick lather of her shampoo and the crisp fragrance of her bath soap as she scrubbed her body. Finally, when the water from the showerhead began to run cooler, coming close to emptying the hot water tank, she shut off the faucets and stepped out into the steam-filled bathroom. She opened the window to clear the air,toweled off, and treated and bandaged her cut, drawing a breath when she dabbed a generous dollop of salve on the wound.
    She left the bathroom and went to sit on the couch. The message Dan Pulver had left on her door was on the coffee table in front of her, where she’d tossed it earlier. Not today, Danny. All I want to do is sit here and relax .
    Maggie closed her eyes for a moment, and the image of the veterinarian appeared in her mind. She heard Danny’s voice as he murmured during the exam, soothing the animal, letting him know that everything was OK. Dusty, Maggie recalled, had stood by nervously, shifting her front hooves as she watched this human touch her son. Her liquid eyes flicked to Maggie for assurance but stayed only for the briefest part of a second before returning to the vet and Dancer. Another thought chased the picture from Maggie’s mind.
    Maybe Ellie is right. It’s possible that even before Richie died, Danny had feelings for me. Maybe I knew it on some level all along. The way I’d catch him looking at me and how abruptly—almost guiltily—he’d look away. But ...
    The crunch of tires on the driveway and the sound of an engine brought Maggie to her feet. She walked to the kitchen and peeked through the window, smiling with relief that the vehicle was the Ford truck of Sarah Morrison’s groundskeeper, not Danny’s GMC. Tessa stepped out, and the truck backed around and rumbled back down the drive, the shovels and tools in its bed clanging against one another. The girl started toward the house, and Maggie opened the door before Tessa reached it.
    It was always good to see Tessa. The horse-crazy young girl carried with her a spirit of enthusiasm and plain old happiness and joy that spread to anyone around her.
    “Hey, Tessa,” Maggie said. “You back to pester poor ol’ Turnip again today?”
    The girl’s smile could have turned a rabid wolverine into a purring kitten. She took a large and shiny apple from the pocket of her jacket. “This is for Turnip,” she admitted, “but I really came to talk with you for a minute. Ralph was going to pick up some parts for the mower, so I snagged a ride with him. Are you busy?”
    “Busy goofing off is all. Come on in. Want a Pepsi or some coffee?”
    “I’d love some coffee, but I’ve already had my cup for the day. My mom’s afraid the caffeine will turn me into a speed freak. A Pepsi’d be great.”
    Tessa sat at the kitchen table as Maggie fetched a pair of diet Pepsis from the refrigerator.
    “You’re limping,” Tessa said. “Are you OK?”
    “I stumbled and scraped a knee is all. No biggie.” She set the can of soda in front of the girl. “So, what’s up?”
    Tessa broke eye contact with her friend, suddenly acting as if her soda can required intense inspection. “Well... the thing is, Danny seemed to be upset earlier. He saw you start to turn in the driveway, with your signal on and everything, and he said you saw his truck and drove away.” She paused for a moment, still studying her Pepsi container. Her cheeks reddened.