by Lois Richer
“Yes, well, you remember that when Keeley wants to borrow something of yours,” Maggie chided with a gentle smile, brushing the blond mess off her daughter’s face. “Now go and do your chores and then you can play a bit before supper. If your homework is done.”
“Okay.” Katy went racing off toward the house, her voice carrying on the breeze back toward them. “See you later, Grady.”
“I guess all my bellyaching has rubbed off on my girls,” Maggie murmured, stubbing her toe in the ground. The action was identical to Katy’s and Grady couldn’t help but smile.
“It’s not funny.” She glared at him. “And just a few minutes ago, when I asked Keeley how school was today she began weeping on my shoulder because Becky Snodgrass told her she knew her jeans were Elissa’s old ones from last year and that they were supposed to go to the Goodwill pile at church.” She glanced up at Grady, a tear poised on each long thick lash. “Why are kids so mean?”
The pain in her voice stung him and Grady could see that she barely had herself under control. He reached out and took her hand, patting it gently.
“Don’t worry about it,” he advised softly. “All kids go through this, but they survive. Yours will, too. Probably better than most because they already know what’s really important in life.”
“Is it so wrong to want them to have nice things?” Maggie’s voice was ragged. “A few really nice clothes that they can take pleasure in, that would make their lives a little less dreary?”
“Maggie, Katy and Keeley take pleasure in every day. Look at them.” He pointed at the pair gently petting the new foal. “What toy would you buy them that could ever replace that in their lives?”
“Yes, it’s nice.” She sniffed, leaving her hand wrapped in his. “But the other kids get to go to Calaway Park for their birthdays. Or they rent the laser tag place, or the water slides.” Fresh tears rolled down her cheeks as she watched the girls carrying buckets of feed for the animals.
“All I can give them is a little party here on the farm with a cake and a dress I made myself. It’s not fair,” she railed in a tortured voice, her face an agony of pain. “I just want them to be happy.”
Without a thought, Grady pulled her into his arms, pressing her head against his shoulder as her tears soaked his shirt.
“Of course it’s not fair,” he said gently, feeling her hands grasp at him. “Life never is. But we take what God gives us and we make the very best of it that we can. And hope that someday things will be better.”
“I’m sick of waiting for someday,” she mumbled against his neck. “I want them to remember their childhood as a happy time, blissfully carefree. Not an era when they had to watch and scrimp and save for every dime that came their way.”
“Is that why Brian was out here again yesterday?” Grady had to ask the question. It had bothered him for hours. “Are you thinking of exchanging one set of problems for another?”
She pulled away at that, back as far as his arm let her, her blue eyes chilly in the extreme. “Brian’s not a problem,” she told him coldly. “He’s a solution. He thinks he loves me. He and I and the girls could live quite happily together. We’d have everything we need. I could sell the farm and pay off the money I borrowed from Mom and Dad last year. Life would be so much easier.”
“He only thinks he loves you?” Grady rolled his eyes. “But you don’t love him. Do you?” For some reason he needed to hear her answer to that question. Badly.
“Brian is a wonderful man. So good and kind. He respects me and he wants to make a home for the girls. He has everything I could possibly want in a husband.” She tilted her head back, defiance in her eyes.
“But do you love him?” Grady held her gaze, refusing to give up even when she pressed away from him and stood churning her fingers together. “Do you?”
“I can’t let emotion sway me again, Grady.” She shuffled her feet. “I did that when I was eighteen, and look what happened.”
“So what happened? You were happily married and became a mother to two wonderful daughters, Maggie! Are you sorry?”
“No.” She glared at him in frustration. “But now I’m alone and I have to make some decisions about our future. I’m not sure I can last another year on this farm, living the way we have been.” She met his gaze straight on. “I’m out of money, out of energy and out of patience. It’s time for a change.”
“And the biggest change would be for you, wouldn’t it, Maggie?” he murmured, meeting her gaze. “You’d be free of this place and the memories it holds for you.”
“Is that so wrong?” she demanded, head tilted back. “To start a new life for my family?”
“No, of course not. It’s just that I think you’re going to be disappointed. You can’t run away from life, Maggie. You have to face it head-on.”
“Is that what you’re doing out on this farm looking like your world has fallen apart? Are you facing life head-on when you make those secretive calls on your telephone?” Her eyes slashed at him like cold hard steel and her words bit into him. “Practice what you preach, Grady.”
He stared down into her beautiful face and wondered for the tenth time exactly why he was here. He was staying put as Harvey had demanded, but the longer he stayed, the more involved he became with this intriguing woman and her two delightful daughters.
“Well?” She was standing there, hands on her hips, demanding his response with that stubborn glint in her eye.
“You don’t understand,” he told her quietly, turning away to pull the tiller out of the soft loam. “And I can’t explain. It’s too personal.”
“Too personal?” She laughed mockingly. “And you think delving into my life and telling me who not to marry and when and where I should live isn’t? Oh, brother!”
Grady looked back at her, letting his eyes rove across her smooth clear forehead, the blond brows and glittering blue eyes. There was a smattering of very pale freckles on her nose just where that snobbish tilt began. Her wide laughing mouth was turned down in a frown and Grady could feel the sparks emanating from the silver glints in her hair. Maggie McCarthy was furious. And very lovely.
“I’m sorry,” he said stiffly, turning away. “It’s none of my business. Forgive me for interfering.” With one motion he had pushed the tiller back and begun rolling it toward the shed.
“That’s it? That’s all you’re going to say?” She stood in front of him now, anger bringing two pink spots to her cheeks.
Grady nodded. “Yes. That’s it.”
Her glistening hair spun round her shoulders in a cloud of gold as she whirled away. She’d gone only a short distance before she turned back. “I am going to have my life, you know. I will not grow old and withered and bitter, worn down by years of trying to make this place a go.” She glared at him, hands clenched at her sides. “Maybe I was a fool to get married so young. And maybe I didn’t know what I was getting into when I tried to keep this place going. But, believe me, I certainly know now and I no more want it for my daughters than I do for myself.”
Grady forced his lips to remain shut, standing solemnly as she finished her tirade. He could see the tears trembling at the corners of her eyes and knew that at this particular moment she was at the end of her tether. She needed a break.
“I’ve tried,” Maggie whispered brokenly. “I’ve tried so hard! But I just can’t do it anymore. I’m worn-out trying to keep everything together. Is it so wrong to want a little space and time for me?”
The words were soft, not meant for his ears, Grady knew. And yet he couldn’t let them go. Not without trying to make her see the whole picture.
“Maybe…” he murmured, keeping his eyes averted as she struggled to regain her composure, and then meeting those deep blue eyes with his own. “Just maybe this is your time. Maybe this is your shining moment.”
Maggie laughed bitterly, glancing down at her torn shirt, faded dirty denims and ragged sneakers.
“There is nothing even remotely shining about me righ
t now, Grady O’Toole.” She exhaled in defeat. “And certainly nothing the least bit glamorous about farming. Don’t make this into a Norman Rockwell painting, okay?” she warned sourly. “There is no intrinsic merit in driving yourself into the ground trying to make something out of nothing.” She turned and began walking back to the house. He just caught her last words. “Believe me, I ought to know.”
“Mom!” Keeley’s voice carried across the yard and Grady watched as Maggie’s proud head lifted. “It’s Brian. He wants to know if we’re free tonight. There’s something he wants us to go to.”
Maggie twisted her head around, her eyes meeting Grady’s without flinching. There was something cold and hard in them that reminded him of Fiona, some determination that he knew he could not shake.
“Yes, I’m free,” she called out. “We all are. It’s time we had a little fun in our lives.”
And as he stood watching, Maggie broke into a quick sprint that took her to the steps of her home. It was the first time, he reminded himself, that he’d seen her run for the sheer pleasure and abandonment of it.
“Help her, Lord,” he murmured. “Keep her on your path. Whatever that is.” Then he turned and headed back to the camper for a lonely supper on his own.
“What is going on?” Maggie stared at the crowd of men who were parking their trucks in her front yard. “What is everyone doing here?” she called loudly, drawing their attention to her. “Don’t you know it’s Saturday?”
“Of course we know. We thought we’d help out with that work on the barn,” Chester Bird told her, buckling his tool belt around his skinny hips. “Been meaning to get here for a while. Today seems a good time.”
“But…”
“And we thought we’d come along and help with any spring cleaning you want done,” Minnie Hugenot added, wheezing out of her small car. “We’ve done everyone else’s but we wanted to wait until you were finished seeding.”
“But…”
“I reckon Grady could show us what needs doing on the barn,” Slim Tattersall mumbled, his hat pulled low over his eyes. “The women brought lunch so we’ll get to work right away. Gabby, you need anything for the house?” He watched impatiently, Maggie noted, not even offering to help as his tiny wife stumbled up to the step with several buckets and mops, a bag of cloths and several cleaners.
“No, thanks, Slim,” she puffed, careening through the door with difficulty. Maggie moved to take the buckets and bags from her. “You fellows get to work. We’ll call you when it’s coffee time.”
Maggie watched as Grady led the group of men toward the barn. Embarrassed, she noted the worn boards, rotting roof and wildly hanging doors. The barn was a wreck.
“Speaking of coffee,” Nettie murmured, fanning herself, “why don’t we start with a cup? That’ll give Maggie and the girls time to get dressed. Had a late night, did you, dear?” Nettie winked in a totally unteacherlike fashion as her eyes roved over Maggie’s tattered chenille housecoat.
“Can’t really blame her, can you?” Minnie demanded, staring out across the yard. “Not with a hunk like that hanging around.”
The rest of the group giggled and twittered, their glances openly curious as they went from Maggie to Grady and back again.
“Actually, the girls and I were out with Brian last night,” she told them, trying to ignore the blush she could feel heating her cheeks at their knowing looks. “We went to the circus.”
There was a long pause in the conversation then as the ladies digested this bit of information. Maggie waited for someone to ask when she was getting married, but to her surprise, no one did. Perhaps because of the warning glint in Henrietta Higglesby’s dark brown glare. Of all the local ladies, Henny seemed to best understand how much Maggie needed to feel feminine and beautiful. It was Henny who gave Maggie the trial samples from her makeup selection at the drugstore.
“I think that’s wonderful,” Henny enthused, patting Maggie’s shoulder gently. “You’re just wearing yourself out on this farm. It’s time you had a break. You take some time for yourself and the girls to enjoy.”
“Thank you, Henrietta,” Maggie said softly. “That’s just what I plan to do more of this summer. We need a break.”
“I don’t know how on earth you do it all,” Bonnie Copperfield muttered, urging everyone inside. “No wonder you’re so thin. Come on, ladies, let’s get to work.”
In a daze Maggie got the girls up, had a shower, dressed and went down to her kitchen. Everything was out of the cupboards and Gloria Stampford was reaching from her perch atop the ladder to wipe out the highest shelf.
“I haven’t done that in ages,” Maggie warned. “It’s probably filthy.” It was embarrassing to have people see what a poor housekeeper she was, but there simply was no time to dust and clean with the animals and the children and homework and final exams.
“This is nothing,” Gloria told her, grinning. “With my four, I barely have time to load the dishwasher. When Henny was cleaning out Jared’s room, she found a frog under the bed! That was in March, so you know the thing had been there all winter.”
“Yeow!” The screech came from downstairs and seconds later Bonnie Copperfield came racing up. “I’ve gotta get Burt,” she called as she hurried out the door. “There’s a leak down there!”
“It’s been there for ages,” Maggie tried to tell her, but Bonnie was halfway across the lawn.
“Let her go,” Nettie advised, emptying her bucket of dirty brown water into the sink. “Bonnie will have Burt over here in a minute and he’ll get it straightened out.”
Maggie watched as they all went back to their jobs and decided it wasn’t worth explaining that the leak had appeared after Burt’s last visit. True to her word, Bonnie dispatched Burt and another man to the bowels of the basement and ten minutes later both men carried out several parts.
“These are defective,” Burt told her, two red spots of color on his cheeks. “But don’t worry. They’re under warranty. The company will pay for the repairs. I think I’ve got some in my truck.”
Relieved that for once there would be no extra expense, Maggie took her bucket outside to start on the windows and found two men on ladders painting the exterior of the house.
“No,” she called out, hurriedly setting her pail on the railing. “I didn’t order any paint.”
“I did!” Elmer Palen peered down over the edge of the roof where he seemed to be replacing some shingles. “It’s demo stuff that we’re supposed to try out and report on. Grady thought this house might be a good test case since it’s so old and weathered.”
“Oh.” Maggie frowned. Grady thought that, did he, she muttered to herself. “Thank you,” she called a minute later, but Elmer just waved the hand holding his hammer.
“You can’t get the woodwork wet if they’re going to paint,” Grady said from behind her. He was studying the workers around the barn with an absent air. “Maybe there’s something inside that needs doing.”
“You know very well that there’s something everywhere on this farm that needs doing,” she told him with a huff. “Did you call all these people? I will not be an object of charity with everyone feeling sorry for me!”
“I hardly think that’s the case,” he murmured mildly, his eyes meeting hers. “They’re your friends and they want to help. Why don’t you just relax and accept it?”
“Because it’s denigrating!” She frowned fiercely. “Everything is run-down and shabby, as if I don’t care how things look.”
“Maggie?” Grady had his hand on her arm, warm and comforting. His eyes glowed with something that made her feel special and cared for. “Can’t friends help friends without you taking it the wrong way?” His tone was softly chastising. “They’ve seen you slaving away here. They know how hard it’s been, and they want to help. Try and graciously accept it in the same manner that it’s given, will you?”
“Hey, Grady! Mac says the chicken coop needs some strengthening. Mind if I do that?” Buster McLean’s voic
e broke into their conversation, his eyes watching as Grady’s hand slowly fell away from Maggie’s arm.
“That would be very nice of you, Buster,” he agreed absently, but his dark caressing gaze stayed on Maggie.
“Okay, I’ll do that, then.” Buster hurried away as if he’d been bitten and Maggie could only stare.
“Buster? Donating labor? I don’t believe it!”
“Well, believe it.” Grady laughed. “And enjoy it. It may not happen again in this lifetime.”
Maggie studied her new hired hand for several minutes, noting the way his hands were stuffed into his pockets, the way his shirt opened at the throat, showing the tanned skin there.
“Thank you,” she murmured at last, leaning forward to press her lips against his cheek. “I don’t know how you did this, but thanks.” She turned away lest he see more of her tears.
“You’re welcome.” Grady sounded pleased and something else. It was that which made Maggie turn back and study his handsome face once more.
“Proud,” she whispered to herself as she dusted the curio cabinet in the living room. “He looked as if he had some interest in this place and was proud it was getting fixed up.”
And that was strange, wasn’t it? Grady O’Toole had only shown up a few short weeks ago and she doubted he’d be staying on much longer.
“So why should he feel proud?” There wasn’t any answer to the question that rolled round and round her head.
“Maggie? Can you come here a moment?” Henny called from Katy’s room. “There’s the strangest thing on this shelf.”
Maggie climbed the stairs with a grimace on her face. She could only imagine what had made the woman’s normally strong tones weak and breathless. Seconds later she understood completely. In fact, she felt a little weak herself!
“Back out and shut the door, Henny. Just go slowly. That’s the way. There!” Maggie snapped Katy’s door closed with a quick flip of her wrist and sagged against the wall. “No more pets, I told her. Not one more. And she promised she wouldn’t bring anything else into the house. She promised!” Maggie let her weak-kneed body slide down the wall until she was sitting on the floor. Seconds later Henny was there, too, white-faced and shaking.