Maggie's Retreat

Maggie heard Brad’s car enter the driveway. Oh God, she thought, then realized she was now holding the gun. Scott, too, heard the sound and grappled wildly about for his weapon, until he saw the gun held firmly in Maggie’s raised hand. His chair banged the wall behind him, fell on its side and slid across the floor. He vaulted toward her but froze when Maggie raised the gun and pointed it directly at his heart. Now sheathed in fear of his own, his gaze turned frantically toward the kitchen door and possible escape.

“Sit right back down,” Maggie ordered. “Now, you can deal with my husband, but you won’t do it with a gun.”

Scott pounded his fist on the table in frustrated defeat. “1 can’t do anything right,” he mumbled between clinched teeth.

Shaking with fear and relief, Maggie backed toward the family room door. She needed to signal Brad that all was not well in their little corner of paradise.

Brad’s jaw dropped when he saw Maggie’s head motioning him toward her. Where was the welcoming smile he had grown to expect? Her body sagged as her legs began to buckle. With pounding heart, he pulled her into his arms and tentatively reached for the weapon in her hand. Something was terribly wrong; Maggie would never handle a gun. Leaning against him, she managed to direct his focus to the young man at the far end of the kitchen.

 “He — he came to kill you,” she stammered.

With the gun, Brad directed Scott to the family room where he could better deal with the intruder, as well as keep an eye on Maggie.

“Sit your sorry behind on that sofa and don’t move,” Brad demanded.

“1 wouldn’t have shot you. Please don’t call the police,” Scott pleaded.

Shocked fury filled Brad, not for having his own life threatened but for what could have happened to Maggie.

Brad moved to a wing chair by the door and fumbled blindly in his briefcase until he found a bottle of pills. He handed it to Maggie. “Take one of these and go lie down. Don’t get up until I deal with this situation.”

Maggie took the bottle. “Please be careful, Brad, he’s just a child.”

“If he carries a gun, he’s not a child.” Never had Maggie heard Brad speak so sharply. He waited until she was safe on the bed before approaching Scott.

“Now, young man, tell me why I shouldn’t call the police? You entered my home uninvited, toting a gun, terrifying my pregnant wife and threatening to kill me. Why?”

“Because my mother is going blind and you won’t help her.” Fear had replaced the young man’s former fury; he sniffed as he wiped away his tears with the back of his hand.

The tears left Brad speechless. He knew immediately who the boy was. His name was Mayes, his mother had advanced macular degeneration, and there was little he could do to save her vision. On her visit the previous day, she had confided how ten years earlier her husband had abandoned her and two children. Her main concern was that the children finish their education. Brad promised to help her solve the problem in any way he could. Two teenage children could be a blessing or an additional problem. It appeared the latter would be the case.

“They’re good kids,” she had told him, “but not having a father has been hard on them, especially Scott.”