Halfway to You(5)

As she got older, the memory of that night festered. She knew from her classmates that families came in all shapes, but this revelation seemed different. Was Bob not her father? And if not, was Tracey even her mother? Why hadn’t they told her? Or had she heard wrong, entirely?

She tried to ask, once, but the words tangled in her throat. She knew what she heard, which meant that Tracey and Bob must’ve had a reason not to tell Maggie the truth. When she thought about it, the truth frightened her.

So Maggie had done her best to forget. She took the ache of suspicion, bottled it up, corked it, and stored it in a cool, dark place inside the growing cavern in her chest. Because not knowing was safe.

To this day, Maggie has never found the courage to ask her parents where she came from. It’s the sad irony of her career as a journalist, as someone with a degree in finding answers. Maggie might understand the value of a true story, but she’s still afraid of her own true story. It’s pathetic.

But none of that matters now.

Maggie sits a little taller. “Aren’t I supposed to be interviewing you?”

“I already told you, I can’t do the interview.”

“Then why did you let me back inside?”

“Keith.”

Maggie grabs a cookie off the tray and takes a dry bite, waiting for Ann to go on.

She doesn’t.

Maggie swallows, ginger scraping the entire length of her throat. She takes a long sip of tea to wash it all down. She begged Grant for this opportunity, convinced him that she was the right person for the job. If she fails now, he’ll never trust her again. The thought of Grant; Brit; the executive producer, Joy; the host, Anita; and everyone else at the podcast relying on her to make this work causes the nerves in her fingers to short out. How is she supposed to convince Ann to do this interview?

Maggie tries, “Don’t you think Keith would want you to humor me?”

Ann tips her head back and chuckles in amusement. “Of course he would. Keith was a saint. But there’s something you should know about my relationship with him, Maggie: I never listened. I was always doing things against his better judgment, and he was always exasperated by me.”

“So, this is par for the course,” Maggie mutters, then pinches her lips together in horror at what she just let slip.

But Ann laughs even harder. “I suppose it is. I’m sure he’s looking down on us from whatever new astral plane he’s on, rolling his eyes.”

“Then we’re at an impasse.”

“It appears so.”

Maggie thinks back to that moment in the car, of storming up Ann’s walkway and banging on the door. She didn’t come all this way just to fail and let everyone at SBTS down—to let herself down. What would teenager Maggie think, watching this scene play out? She’d probably be furious if Maggie didn’t at least try to engage.

When she was younger, she had begged Keith for Ann-related tidbits, had asked over and over for a signed book, a meeting, anything, but Keith had always protected Ann’s privacy. Even Keith’s daughter, Iris, and some of Maggie’s other elder cousins—who had met Ann as kids—never had much to divulge. They hadn’t even read Ann’s book—a frustrating fact for teenage Maggie, who envied their underappreciated proximity to her favorite author. Even if they had been too young to recognize the significance of Ann’s presence.

So today—this moment—is Maggie’s only shot. If there’s a chance to make this work, she has to seize it now.

It’s up to you to convince Ann Fawkes to spill it all.

She takes a sip of tea, fortifying herself with the rousing heat of clove. “If you don’t mind, may I ask, Why did you say yes to the podcast in the first place?”

“That’s a good question.” Ann frowns slightly in thought, glancing out the window. Seconds tick by, marked by the whooshing of the wind outside, the groaning gutters, and hissing pine-needled trees. The distant roar of the sea.

When Ann levels her gaze on Maggie again, even the blood in Maggie’s veins stops moving. “Here’s my offer: I’ll tell you my whole story—nothing held back, everything—if you want to hear it.”

Maggie sits taller. “You will?”

“But you can’t record it.”





MAGGIE


San Juan Island, Washington State, USA

Saturday, January 6, 2024

Maggie’s first instinct is to balk. Grant would murder her if she listened to Ann’s story and still came back with nothing. Not to mention the money she’d probably be on the hook for: travel expenses, lodging, salaried time spent not working. On a base level, Maggie can’t afford it. Her student loan payments alone keep her living paycheck to paycheck.

But this is Ann Fawkes. Famous author. Lifelong idol. The opportunity to hear her unabridged life story is once in a lifetime, beyond her wildest dreams. So of course Maggie is tempted to say yes.

Maggie shakes her head. “If I can’t record it, what’s the point?”

“Well, why are you here, Maggie?”

“For the podcast. I fought for this interview, convinced my boss.”

“I don’t believe that’s the only reason. What made you run back up my steps earlier?”

Maggie sighs, head spinning. “Honestly, I don’t know. I just had a feeling that we were meant to talk.”