Maggie's Marriage (The Cloverleaf Series Book 2)(4)

By: Gloria Herrmann

Michael’s chocolate brown eyes flashed with confusion. She could tell he had no idea how she felt, no clue at all. As he left the room, Maggie felt the familiar sensation of tears building up in her eyes. Crying—one the perks of pregnancy hormones.


“You almost ready for bed?” Michael asked, leaning against the archway leading to their living room. Maggie sat the book she had been reading down in her lap. Seeing him stand there, still in his work clothes, his navy blue tie loose around the collar of his crisp dress shirt, his gray slacks hanging perfectly on his toned legs, caused Maggie to feel pent-up desire for her husband. She hated being upset with him.

“Almost,” Maggie answered.

“Well, I’m beat, I’m going to turn in.” Michael yawned. He did look exhausted, the tiny crinkles by his eyes were heavy.

“Michael, can we talk?”

“Sure, babe, what’s wrong?” Michael’s furrowed, showing concern, and he approached the couch quickly.

Maggie swallowed hard. “I know you’re working incredibly hard to make everything wonderful for us, but I just feel like you’re never home.”

“Maggie, we’ve been through this. This is the time when I need to sacrifice in order for our lives to be perfect later.”

“I know, but it’s so hard on Mel, she misses you so much. She needs her daddy.” Maggie’s voice grew rough as she tried to swallow back the pesky tears welling up in her eyes and choking her throat.

“I don’t understand why you are so upset.” Michael’s calm tone was changing.

“You don’t understand? Michael, you’re never home, literally, we see you for a couple of minutes here and there. This isn’t what I signed up for.” Maggie felt her stomach turn sick; the contents were like a small boat being tossed around a raging sea. She begged her body to keep calm, desperately trying to push away the wave of nausea.

“Oh, for Christ’s sake, Maggie, you think I like not being home, or that I like spending almost every waking hour working? Come on.”

“Of course, but Michael, Melanie is young and she misses you. I miss you. You need to be here more, it’s as simple as that.” Maggie could feel herself losing the battle.

Michael got up from the couch, Maggie could feel the emptiness as he turned and looked at her. “Everything I do is for us. It would be nice to have a little support, but instead every time we are alone you want to fight. As if I don’t already have enough pressure and stress in my life, I don’t need the added grief.”

Maggie removed herself from the couch, throwing back the plaid throw that had been covering her. “I do support you. It wouldn’t be a fight if you didn’t work so much. I don’t give a flying crap if you make partner. I want you to be my partner.” Maggie felt like a child throwing a tantrum. Her thin arms were straight against her sides, her hands knotted up into tight balls. She imagined all she had to do was start stomping her foot, and she would look like a full fledged brat.

She felt her emotions spinning out of control; she hated herself for feeling like a crazy person. Lately, she felt like she had no hold on anything. Her emotions were all over the place.

“Maggie, that’s enough. I’m not doing this with you right now. I’m worn out. I don’t have the energy to fight.” He turned away and went to their bedroom.

Maggie sank back on the couch feeling defeated and overwhelmed. What was she going to do? She knew one thing for sure; she couldn’t keep this up much longer.


Maggie sat in the small office. The walls were covered in a modern, calm shade of teal and beige wallpaper. It made her nervous being locked inside the sterile room. Nothing was serene and inviting about it, not even the bleached starfish that were mounted sporadically on the walls. Maggie’s mood lately hadn’t gotten much better; she found herself overly emotional and just plain worn out. Cranky, that was probably a better word to describe it. Everything was annoying her, the inner rage that consumed her made Maggie feel disgusted with herself, but she tried to reason that this wasn’t who she was. Then again, Maggie had lost sight of who she was a long time ago, and she wasn’t sure about a lot of things now.

She had been waiting to talk to the doctor for close to twenty minutes. She felt herself growing anxious and irritated when a soft knock echoed off the door.

“Mrs. Trembley?” A man in a stark white coat and an obnoxiously colorful tie peered from behind the door as he entered slowly.

Maggie managed a tight lipped smile and a curt nod. Try and be nice.