Love, In Writing

by Elsa Winckler

  “What? Don’t tell me you’ve also read it?”

  Andrew shifted uncomfortably. “No, I...I mean, Yvonne read some parts to me. Anyway, that’s not why I’m here.” He quickly changed the subject. “One of the kids fell out of a tree. I think he broke his arm. I can’t get away and Yvonne is in town, I can’t get hold of her.”

  Graham immediately started back to the house. “Whose kid?”

  “Petrus’s.”

  Graham nodded. He knew all the farm workers. There were four families living and working on his farm.

  “Where is he?”

  “At their house. I—”

  “Don’t worry. I’ll take him to the hospital,” Graham said, and jogged back to his house to get his car.

  ***

  Margaret found herself humming to the music playing on the car radio. She wasn’t quite sure what she was going to say to Graham or how she was going to say it, she only knew she had to see him. And somehow she had to convince him she loved him. And she was prepared to move in with him, the sooner the better.

  When the driver in the car coming from the front smiled and waved at her, Margaret realized she was smiling broadly. It could of course also be because she was wearing hardly anything.

  She looked down at Louise’s black number and then suddenly the doubts crept in. It had been three months since she’d seen him last. Would he still feel the same way? He hadn’t contacted her once during the time, and why would he? She’d made it clear she wouldn’t move in with him. He’d probably moved on and found someone else.

  She gripped the steering wheel tighter when the turn-off to his farm appeared. She stopped for the oncoming traffic and indicated she was going to turn to her right. While she waited for traffic from the opposite direction, she saw Graham’s car coming from the direction of his farm. He was going to turn to his right, away from her; he was on his way somewhere.

  She should stop him. It would have been better to phone first to make sure he would be here. As she opened her window to wave at him, he turned around in his car to look behind him. Only then she registered he wasn’t alone in the car. She couldn’t really make out who was with him and before she could do anything, he’d turned onto the road and was speeding toward Stellenbosch.

  She turned to her right and stopped at the side of the road. Her hands were shaking. She clutched them together and dropped her head to the steering wheel. Could any one person be so stupid? Obviously, he’d moved on. And here she was, ready to tell him she loved him. Only now it was too late. She’d waited too long.

  She waited until her hands stopped shaking before starting the car. The drive back was slow. A hole had opened up inside of her and she wasn’t sure whether she’d ever be able to fill it up again. She swallowed down a sob threatening to escape and clenched her teeth together. She wasn’t going to shed one more tear over this bloody man.

  But by the time she turned onto the highway she was surprised to find her cheeks were wet.

  ***

  Graham was surprised to see Andrew’s car in front of his house. Both Andrew and Yvonne were standing on his porch. Graham quickly stopped and got out of his car. Andrew came down the stairs, Yvonne close behind him.

  “How’s the kid?” Andrew asked quickly.

  “He’s fine, broke his arm. I’ve just dropped him and his mother off at their house.”

  “I’m glad. Umm...I...” Andrew swore and for the first time Graham really looked at him and Yvonne. Both had serious expressions on their faces.

  “What’s wrong? What happened?” Graham asked, a fist increasingly beginning to squeeze his insides. He grabbed Andrew’s arm. “Margaret?” he got out through clenched teeth.

  Andrew looked at Yvonne, then back at Graham. “Look, we don’t know. We’ve just seen on the news there is a fire in Kommetjie, although I don’t know exactly where. Yvonne has been trying to call Margaret, but she’s not answering her phone. I...Yvonne and I thought you should know.”

  For a few seconds, Graham was paralyzed. Fire. Margaret. Kommetjie. Margaret. His befuddled brain struggled to make sense of the information.

  “I have to go. I’ve got to be with her,” he mumbled and opened the door of his car.

  Andrew took the car keys from him and shoved him aside.

  “We’ll all go. I’ll drive.”

  Graham wanted to argue but realized he was too keyed up to know what he was doing. He got in beside Andrew and Yvonne slid onto the back seat.

  “Graham,” Yvonne said from behind him, “it’s going to be all right, Margaret is going to be all right.”

  Graham struggled to breathe. There was something stuck in his throat and he couldn’t get enough air into his lungs. “Thanks,” he replied gruffly. This was going to be a very long drive. What if...?

  He tried to breathe evenly. Thinking the worst was not helping. He refused to believe anything had happened to Margaret. She was going to be fine, she had to be fine. Otherwise... He tried to focus on the road. He felt so helpless. What could he do?

  He pulled out his cell phone. He had to try and speak to her. Her phone just rang and rang.

  Jen. He should try the book shop. He still had the number. With unsteady hands, he tried the number. But this phone too just rang and rang. His eye fell on the clock in the car and he swore. It was after hours. Obviously, there wouldn’t be anyone there.

  Yvonne was talking on the phone. He turned around to listen to her conversation.

  “Yes, Kommetjie—we heard there was a fire. Could you tell me where in Kommetjie the fire is?” Yvonne sighed. “Okay, I understand. Is there anyone else we could phone?” she asked.

  Graham grabbed the phone. “Listen, you idiot. Where the hell is the fire?” he nearly shouted into the receiver. There was no answer. “The bloody guy just put the phone down, can you believe it?” He swore, and tried to redial the number.

  Yvonne leaned forward and grabbed her phone. “Graham, relax. He doesn’t know. All the fire engines were sent out to Kommetjie. This poor man just answers the phone, he doesn’t have the details. We’ll be there shortly. Just be patient. I’ll keep trying to call Margaret.”

  Fear clawed at his gut. Graham stared in front of him, trying to get his breathing under control.

  Chapter 11

  Margaret slowly got out of her car. She’d been driving around aimlessly. She looked at her watch. Five hours, it had been. Home just wasn’t as inviting as usual. If she hadn’t turned on the radio in her car, she’d probably still be driving around. But she’d heard about the fire.

  It was getting dark and as she neared Kommetjie she could see the flames and the smoke billowing from far away. The fire was raging in the mountain on the far side of Kommetjie and her house. She knew the houses on her side of the village were in no danger, but the fire still felt scarily close. The glow lit the evening sky. The acrid smell of burning plants and trees was overwhelming. It seemed to be the perfect ending to a ghastly day.

  She unlocked her front door and slumped down onto the closest chair. She rested her head back against the cushion and stared up at the ceiling. Graham. A few hours ago, she was on top of the world, had everything to look forward to. She was going to tell Graham she loved him, she was going to move in with him, they were going to be very happy—and now a very bleak future was the only thing to look forward to.

  Why on earth had it taken her three months to realize what she felt for him was love? Surely as an author of love stories she should have recognized the feeling, should have known what she was feeling was so different from anything else she’d experienced before? Even Jen had realized what was happening before she did.

  And now it was too late. She’d missed her one chance at happiness. Because she’d wanted the fairy tale, the big wedding. She now knew any fairy tale, any wedding without Graham in it, wouldn’t work. Now, when it was too late, she could reach this conclusion. She sat up straight and looked down. She was still wearing the stupid black dress. Tears welled up again. Sh
e dropped her head in her hands and cried.

  What was that noise? She sniffed and tried to stop crying. She hiccupped once and then the sound penetrated through her crying. Footsteps sounded on her front porch. If this was Louise with another sob story, she was going to throttle her. The next minute, someone was hammering on her front door.

  Angrily, she got up and stomped to the front door. Bloody Louise wouldn’t even grant her time for a good cry. Damn her. She threw open the door, ready to let rip and let Louise know once and for all she could stand up for herself. Then the earth seemed to rock on its axis. Blood drained from her head, leaving her dizzy.

  It wasn’t Louise. It was Graham. He was there. His hair was tousled; he was unshaven and he seemed pale against the light. His eyes were smoldering.

  “Hi Margaret. Are you all right?” Yvonne and Andrew were right behind him.

  “Yes, I...I think I’m okay. The fire is on the other side of Kommetjie. At the moment, we’re all fine on this side of the village. Hopefully the wind will not change direction.” She put a hand to her head in a futile attempt to order her chaotic thoughts. “What are you all doing here?”

  Graham reached out his hand and touched her hair, her face. “You’ve been crying. Why? What happened?” While the questions tumbled from his mouth his hands slid down her arms as if he wanted to make sure she was fine.

  “I... What are you doing here?” she asked again.

  Yvonne pushed forward. “May we come in?” She pushed Graham aside and walked past Margaret into the living room.

  “Yes, yes, of course, but...”

  Yvonne sat down on the couch and patted the place beside her. “You’ve given all of us such a fright,” she began conversationally. “Andrew and I heard about the fire over the news and we’ve been trying to call you to find out whether your house was also in danger, but you didn’t answer. We got worried and Graham was so shocked when we told him about the fire. He was really far too upset to drive. Men aren’t very good in a crisis, are they?” she asked no one in particular. “Anyway, we decided we had to come with him to prevent him from killing himself or someone else on top of everything else.”

  Margret walked toward her, aware Yvonne was looking her up and down. “Interesting get-up. Didn’t think it would be your style, but very, very sexy.” Yvonne smiled. “Where were you this afternoon? You know, I could swear I saw your car near the turn-off to Graham’s farm. I was in town and as I was turning into the road, Graham passed me on his way to Stellenbosch and suddenly there was your car as well. I wasn’t sure whether it was you, because you turned the car around and drove back the other way.”

  Margaret turned around and her eyes flew to Graham’s. He was still pale, but looked less upset. He raised his eyebrows. “You were there?” he asked.

  Margaret opened her mouth to say something, but no sound would emerge. Suddenly, the whole miserable day was just too much. She’d had enough. She grabbed her bag, walked toward the stairs leading up to her bedroom before she turned back to face her visitors.

  “Yes, I went to see you. In this get-up, as Yvonne calls it. Why? Because Graham, I read your book. Because I thought I was Mags, and you...well, it was clear I thought you had feelings for Mags. And I realized.” She hiccupped once then continued. “And I realized this afternoon I want to be with you, I’ll do anything to be with you, I’ll even move in with you. I was on my way to tell you. And then, guess what? I was too late. You had another woman in your car, you...” Tears clogged up her throat.

  Margaret took a deep breath to try and steady herself. Graham’s mouth had opened, but he had yet to utter a word. She held up her hand. “No, it’s fine, you don’t have to say anything. I’m too late. Timing was never my strong point. Would you please excuse me? I have to lie down now. Please just lock the door on your way out.” And as gracefully as she could, she walked up the stairs to her bedroom.

  “Wait a bloody minute!” Graham shouted.

  Margaret stopped and looked down at him. He walked toward her, his jaw clenched.

  “Is that what you think of me? After everything that has happened between us? I asked you to move in with me, remember? And you think...” He took a deep breath. “You actually think I’m so shallow I’d have another woman within three months?”

  “Well, there was Rita,” Yvonne chimed in.

  Graham swore. “You damn well know I only went out with her to try and forget about Margaret.

  He looked up at Margaret, his eyes wild. “Perhaps it’s a good thing I know what you think of me,” he snapped. Then he turned around and walked out of the door.

  Andrew followed him without looking at her. Yvonne slowly approached her. “I’m meddling, and Andrew will probably kill me if he finds out I told you, but Margaret, Graham wasn’t with another woman this afternoon. One of the workers’ children broke an arm. Graham took him and his mother to the hospital.”

  Margaret sagged down on the stairs and dropped her head in her hands. Yvonne sat next to her and looked at her. “I really messed up, didn’t I?” she said.

  Yvonne nodded. “Yeah, you did. Tell me, why did you really come to see Graham this afternoon?”

  Margaret sighed. She might as well go for broke, she had nothing more to lose. “I love him. I only realized today, can you believe it? He’s everything I’ve ever wanted and now...” She gestured helplessly with one hand. “Now I’ve made such a mess of things.”

  “Well, I thought so. I thought you loved him, but I wanted to make sure. I think you should have a nice, long bath before you go to bed. Everything will look better in the morning. And don’t worry about Graham. I think he’s trying to sort things out. Men take a bit longer, you know? I’ll keep in touch.” And with that she got up, walked down the stairs, and out through the door.

  Margaret sat stunned. She wasn’t quite sure what had just happened, but somewhere inside her a tiny flame of hope was beginning to flicker. Graham hadn’t been with another woman. And tonight he’d come to see whether she was okay. He was upset when he’d heard about the fire and thought she was in danger. These bits of information ran in endless circles in her head until, somehow, they made sense.

  All is not lost. Margaret smiled. He must feel something for her. He came here, worried about me. She remembered the way he’d touched her hair, her face. That had to mean something. She jumped up. There was a whole night ahead of her, during which she would have to come up with an idea. She had written quite a few romance novels. Surely she should be able to come up with an effective plan to get her hero back?

  ***

  Graham sat fuming in the car. He could throttle Margaret. Women. Always ready to believe the worst.

  “May I say something?” Yvonne asked from the back seat. She’d been uncharacteristically quiet.

  “Yvonne, no meddling,” Andrew warned, looking at her in the rear-view mirror.

  “I’m not...okay, I’m meddling. But, Graham, did you hear what she said? Before the part where she said she saw someone in your car. Were you listening to what she was saying?”

  “All I heard was she saw me in the car with someone and immediately assumed I’d moved on.”

  “Hmm, I knew it,” Yvonne said and sat back.

  Graham turned around. “What did she say? All I know is I was petrified she was hurt in the fire and what happened? She...”

  And all of a sudden, everything that had happened, everything that was said in Margaret’s house was replaying in his head. She’d opened the door and because she was there, wasn’t hurt in any way, was wearing the excuse for a dress she’d worn when he’d seen her for the first time, she’d robbed him of rational thought. He just had to touch her to make sure she was real. And the minute his fingers glided through her hair he couldn’t remember why he’d let three months go by without seeing her, touching her.

  He remembered traces of tears on her face. She’d been crying. He remembered his fear. He remembered her words. She had said she’d gone to see him because she’
d read his book, because she thought she was Mags. Of course she was bloody Mags, he had told her that. And then...didn’t she say she wanted to be with him? And didn’t she also say something about moving in with him?

  “Yes, exactly,” Yvonne said from the back, and Graham realized he’d been speaking out loud.

  “She wanted to be with me.” He looked at Andrew, who laughed.

  “That’s what she said. What are you going to do now?”

  “May I make a suggestion?” Yvonne asked.

  “I don’t know why you ask, you’re going to do so anyway,” her husband replied sarcastically.

  “Sleep on it. I think there are still some things you have to sort out. Men are a bit slow when it comes to matters of the heart, you know? But remember how you felt when you thought she might be in danger, when you thought she might be hurt? Sleep on it. Read her book again. You just might find interesting ideas there. And you’ll have your answer tomorrow. If you don’t, I might have to meddle some more,” she threatened.

  Chapter 12

  In the end, Mags, the fictional character from Graham’s imagination, provided the solution to her problem. The idea for the perfect setting, Margaret had found in her own book. She now knew how it would be, what she should do. That part was easy. The difficult part was to find a way to get Graham to come to her.

  She’d gone to bed, but she struggled to fall asleep. She reviewed each and every one of her stories. Numerous similar scenarios were to be found in her romances, but none of the plots seemed quite right.

  It wasn’t difficult to decide what her fictional hero would do in each case, but she didn’t know, couldn’t predict, how Graham would react. He was angry with her and he was hurt because she thought so little of him. And to add to the complication, she didn’t know what he felt for her.

  Yes, he wanted her, he’d asked her to move in with him. But was that all? And if what he felt was only physical, would it be enough for her? What about her dream, her fairy tale?