Page 90 of Time Out

She smiled at my dad, who was grabbing pates from the open shelf. “I’m good. Food smells delicious Mr.… Jim.”

“Just Jim, Maggie,” he teased and flashed her a wink.

We gathered food, took everything to the table, and sat down. Maggie had her phone next to her plate and was taking small bites of bacon, testing to see if it’d sit well in her stomach.

“So, what do you two have going on today?”

“I need another workout and have film later. Not until three though.”

“I have to work from two to eight, but I’m thinking about calling in.” She flicked her gaze toward me, uncertainty flaring.

“I told him, Maggie.”

“Oh.”

“Is that okay?”

“I won’t tell anyone, sweetheart. Not even when I want to.”

“Oh.” A pink stain hit her cheeks. “That’s. Well, thank you. But that’s okay. I don’t know if I want to be at work. What if Ruth can get here tonight?”

“Do you think she will?” I didn’t want to cause doubt, but she had waffled back and forth on the phone.

“I don’t know. I think if she can get to Mr. and Mrs. Clancey’s they can convince her, or at least keep her safe there for a bit. I don’t know if I want to be at work if she calls, but if she does come here, even for a while, there’ll be things I need to buy her. Clothes, that kind of stuff, and I don’t know what my dad will do if he finds her missing.”

She started rambling, words falling from her lips faster than I could follow her, and it was my dad who reached across the table and took her hand, squeezing it.

“Breathe, Maggie. Take a breath. You don’t have to have anything figured out and solved right now. What’s important is you eat for that baby of yours. I’m sure it’s awfully hungry this morning.”

“Especially after all that singing last night.” I kicked her chair with my toes playfully. Anything to get her to calm down. Dad was right.

The worry and stress wouldn’t be good for her.

“Which reminds me.” Dad wiped his hands with a napkin and pulled his phone out of his back pocket. “If your singing is causing all this mess today, I need to see what all the fuss is about.”

“Oh, you don’t have to.”

“You wouldn’t have ended up filmed and online if you weren’t good, so let’s just see how good you are, huh?”

“Jim…”

“She’s incredible. Powerful and beautiful on stage, even in jeans and a T-shirt. She had them completely raptured.”

“I did not,” Maggie whispered, stabbing at her eggs and avoiding eye contact with both of us. The tips of her ears were pink.

I’d feel bad for embarrassing her, but she deserved the praise and needed to get used to hearing it.

In a few swipes of his fingers and thumbs on his phone screen, Maggie’s voice, tinny through the phone speaker, came through and I smiled as the lyrics to “Ain’t No Mountain High Enough” came through. My dad’s face lit up and Maggie buried her face in her hands.

“This is embarrassing. It’s so bad.”

“It’s beautiful,” Dad said and set the phone down to smile at her. “You should be proud of that voice, do everything you can to make your dreams come true using it.”

“You told him?” She peeked out behind her fingers to glare at him.

“Voice like that needs to be heard by everyone. Not ashamed of bragging about your talent.”

“Damn talented, for sure.” Dad hit his phone screen and turned off the sound. “Can’t quite figure out how that’d make our own father mad, though, and I definitely could live the rest of my life without ever thinking of him again. You say your uncle has that television show?”

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