by Lois Richer
“Oh. Well, thank you.” Maggie placed her cup on the table and stood, trying to look nonchalant as she searched for another subject. Why was she so nervous?
“Maggie?” He was behind her, his hand on her arm. “I wanted to tell you something.” She nodded her head and he continued. “I was in Calgary yesterday. The business with my company is all settled. Finally.”
“So you can go back now?” It was hard, so hard to say those words. “Well, I wish you all the best, Grady. And I want to thank you for helping us out.” She would have said more but for the lump in her throat. The silence yawned between them until she finally glanced up, surprised when his hands moved to her shoulders.
“I’m not leaving, Maggie. Not unless you want me to. I don’t know what will happen about the company. I don’t think I want to do that anymore.”
“What do you want to do?” Maggie didn’t know where the courage to say those words had come from, but she waited anxiously for his reply.
“I want to stay here, on the farm. I want to help you harvest this crop and watch the snow fly while we plan next year’s. I want to watch the girls go off to school and be here when they get off the bus at night.”
“Oh.” She didn’t know what to say to that.
“I love you, Maggie. I believe God sent me here, to meet you and the girls. I think He wants us to be a family and serve Him together. I think Katy has the right idea with her verse.” His arms were completely around her now, holding her tenderly, his head just inches away from hers.
“Katy? What verse?” His eyes held hers, intent in their scrutiny. Maggie couldn’t look away, even if she’d wanted to.
“’Two are better than one because they have a good return for their work. If one falls down, his friend can help him up. But pity the man who has no one to help him up…and how can one keep warm alone. Though one may be overpowered, two can defend themselves.’” He recited the words softly.
Maggie frowned slightly, trying to recall just where she’d last heard that.
“It’s from Ecclesiastes,” Grady murmured. “She painted it on a plaque at Bible school. I think we’d make a great team, Maggie.” He kissed her tenderly, his lips asking a question Maggie knew she’d have to answer. “Maggie?”
Help me, she prayed fervently. I can’t make a mistake here.
“I think I do love you, Grady,” she murmured at last, watching the glow in his eyes dim just a little. “I like you very much. You’re warm and kind and gentle and you’ve been here for me so many times.” She eased away from him and took one step backward. “I think being married to you would be the most wonderful thing any woman could wish for, and I know I’d be happier than I’ve ever been.”
“But?” He smiled at her grimly. “There is a but, isn’t there?”
“But I don’t want to stay on the farm, Grady. I want to be free of the never-ending debts and drudgery. I want to feel young and carefree, to go to a concert in the park, watch the girls enjoy life that isn’t confined to good old Willow Bunch.” She glanced up at him despairingly. “I’ve told you all this before.”
“But we can do that, Maggie! We’ll go for holidays and take the girls on weekend excursions. We can even go to Disneyland after Christmas, if you want.”
“But I’ll still be stuck on the farm.” She felt terrible saying it, but she’d spent too many years denying reality. Now was not the time to start pretending life would be grand just because she married Grady.
Maggie watched the pain flood his eyes and knew she’d hurt him. “It’s not you,” she cried. “It’s this place. I’ve slaved away here for years, trying to make a go of it, and it just isn’t working.”
“Maggie, the crops are going to be bumper this year! You’ll be well on the way. And of course I expect to put some money into the farm, to share the load with you. We can have a wonderful life here, if you’ll just give us a chance.”
“You’re not pouring more money into this place,” Maggie informed him sternly. “Don’t you see? That’s been the problem all along.” She shook her head firmly. “No, somehow we’ve got to become self-sufficient, and until I can contribute my share, I don’t want to be dependent on anyone. It wouldn’t be fair to dump all my debts on you.”
“Maggie, I’m not trying to buy you!” His words were harsh. “I want to share the farm with you. I’ve got money, I can afford it. And we can make it into something to be proud of together. Don’t you see?”
“No,” she persisted stubbornly. “I don’t. All I see is this huge millstone that will drag us both down, regardless of how wonderful things look now.” Maggie felt her heart sink to her shoes as she said the words, but she refused to let that sway her. This wasn’t God’s will for her; it couldn’t be. Not when everything that was in her cried out to get away from this place.
But what about Grady? a small inner voice chided. Are you prepared to go through life without him? A resounding no rose up in her throat and she struggled to understand the confusion in her mind.
“Please understand,” she murmured finally, lifting her head to see the pain on his face. “I’ve worked so long to be independent. I need to know that I can take care of myself and my children no matter what happens.” There was no point in prevaricating, she decided. He might as well know it all.
“I was devastated when Roger died. But it was worse when I found out how strapped we were financially. I felt abandoned and not very capable of standing on my own two feet.” She sighed. “I know everyone means well. My friends have stuck by me when no one else believed I could put food on the table, and sometimes they’ve even put it there for me. But I’m tired of being the local charity case. I want to be able to hold my head up, knowing that my girls aren’t being denied their chance.”
She searched his face for some sign that he comprehended her feeling of failure. “Can you understand what I’m saying, Grady?”
“All I really want to know is whether or not you love me?” he reiterated firmly. “Everything beyond that we can work out.”
“All right! Yes, I love you!” She glared at him in frustration. “But that’s not the point.”
“Yes, my darling Margaret Mary, that is exactly the point.” She heard the relief in his voice and moved willingly into his arms as he tugged her close. His kiss was exultant. “If we start from the right place, God will lead us to the next step. You’re not alone anymore, sweetheart. We’re in this together.”
As she returned his hug, Maggie considered his words. Maybe it was possible. Maybe love really could conquer all. Maybe this time, she didn’t need to be afraid.
“Are you with me, Maggie, my love?” His voice was soft and cajoling and she couldn’t deny him.
“Yes,” she whispered at last. “I’m with you. But let’s go slowly and figure out each step as we go along.”
“All right!” He grinned at her, his eyes blazing with new light. “How about this?” Grady’s hands enclosed hers, holding them tightly. “We’ll be engaged. For as long as it takes you to see that this farm can be a wonderful home for us. Together we’ll take that crop off, sell it, pay down your loans and then you’re going to marry me. Deal?”
It sounded too good to be true. Grady, strong, reliable Grady would stay by her side. They would support each other. And, please God, if they got this crop off, they could start planning a future together.
“Deal,” she murmured.
“See, I told you,” Keeley whispered, poking her sister in the side. “The lady said ’get ’em together and keep ’em together’ when she sent that last E-mail. So far it looks pretty good.”
Katy turned her eyes away from the window as her mother kissed Grady. “Yuck! I can’t stand all that mushy stuff!”
“You don’t have to,” Keeley said reasonably. “They do.” She leaned a little farther out the open window and smiled. She pulled her head back in at Katy’s insistent tug. “What?”
“How do you suppose that woman knows all this stuff about making people fall in
love?”
“She’s a writer, isn’t she?” Keeley reminded her sister. She pulled the curtain back into place and flopped onto her bed. “She writes about this stuff all the time.”
“All the time?” Katy could hardly believe it. “Gee! How can she stand it?”
“Lots of people buy her books, dummy. She must know what she’s talking about. I’m gonna ask her the next step.” Keeley skipped over to her computer and flicked it on, waited a moment for it to boot up and then clicked on the E-mail icon. “It’s a good thing I read that book she sent me. It had a lot of helpful hints in it.”
“Yeah, but that was for writing,” Katy reminded her. “This is real life. And it’s our mother!”
“Still, everybody likes a happy ending,” her sister muttered, typing out a few short sentences. “There, now she’ll see where we are. I think we’re past stage four, don’t you?”
“Why don’t you go in a chat room with her?” Katy demanded, popping another bubble. “Then you could ask all the questions you want.”
“Because I don’t want to! This is better.” She frowned at the keyboard, erased a few lines and then continued tapping. “Anyway, I don’t know how.”
“Well, I wish you’d get it over with, that’s all,” Katy grumbled, tossing her ball in the air and catching it. “I wouldn’t mind playing my computer games once in a while, you know. That is why I got them.”
“This is more important,” Keeley muttered. “Mom needs us now and we can’t just desert her. Besides, you’re the one who doesn’t want to leave the farm. If Mom and Grady get married, we’ll be able to stay here.”
“Like you want to!” Katy sneered. “You know very well you’ve been begging for a new piano teacher for months. And there’s no drawing teacher in Willow Bunch.”
“No.” Keeley flicked the computer off and swiveled around on her chair. “But I could go to the city once a week to take art lessons. Or piano. We wouldn’t have to live there.” She climbed into bed and made room for her sister to sit on the end. “The truth is, I don’t really mind where we live. But I do want Mom to be happy and I think she would be with Grady.”
“You like him a lot, don’t you?”
“Don’t you?” Keeley countered. “He’s fun to be around, he knows about all sorts of things and he’s not afraid to talk about God. I didn’t like to ask Brian anything!” They looked at each other and grinned.
“At least he’s out of the picture.” Katy blew a huge bubble and let it snap all over her face. “That’s what I think of Brian.” She giggled, enjoying Keeley’s look of disgust. “Why were you talking to Grady ‘bout God?”
“Because I wanted to ask him something.” She stopped abruptly but when Katy merely raised her eyebrows, Keeley continued softly, whispering so that they couldn’t be heard. “You know how Mrs. Stone’s been going over all those armies that God killed in the Old Testament?” Katy nodded. “That kinda bugged me. I mean, is that all God does—punish people? It goes on and on. ‘He killed this bunch and smote that one.’ It’s scary!”
“Yeah, but they were fighting against God’s people,” Katy informed her. “God didn’t like that. They deserved it.”
“But that’s just it. I do lots of bad things. I deserve to be punished, too.” Keeley stared at her hands. “And I was scared.”
“What did Grady say?” Katy was sitting up straight now, her gum forgotten as she studied her sister’s face.
“He said that God is just like our father, only He’s a heavenly father and that I should think of Him as my dad and not as a policeman.”
“We don’t have a dad.” Katy’s voice was flat.
“That’s what I told him! So Grady explained some more.” Keeley’s forehead creased as she sought earnestly for the right words to tell her sister. “See, Katy, God doesn’t like it when we do something wrong and He wants us to ask for forgiveness. But He doesn’t hold it against us. He forgives us because He made us and loves us and knows that everybody makes mistakes. That’s why He sent Jesus to die for us. Only you can’t go making the same mistake over and over. You have to learn from it and not do it again.”
Katy shuffled uncomfortably on the bed. “You mean like throwing spitballs in school?” she muttered at last.
“Yes, exactly like that.” Keeley shook her head in disgust. “And come schooltime, you better not start doing that again,” she reminded firmly. “You told the teacher you were sorry. If you were really sorry, you’d stop. You can’t be sorry if you keep right on doing it!”
Katy nodded. “Yeah, I get it,” she muttered. “But sometimes I do things wrong even when I know better. Does that mean God won’t forgive me?”
Keeley shook her head firmly. “Grady said that if we confess that we did wrong, God will forgive us and wipe our mistakes as far away as the east is from the west.”
“I don’t get it,” Katy announced, her forehead wrinkled in puzzlement. “That’s infinity. East doesn’t ever meet west.”
“I know. Isn’t it great?”
They grinned at each other in sudden understanding and then guilt as they heard the front door open and shut. Katy wriggled off the bed and headed soundlessly for the door where she turned back to grin at her sister.
“I just hope Mom is as understanding when she finds out what we’re up to,” she whispered, grinning from ear to ear. “And if she’s mad, I’m going to explain that it was all your idea.” She scurried out the door and across the hall as the bottom step squeaked a warning.
“Mother! What’s happened to your hair this time?” Maggie stared at the tiny woman coming through her kitchen door. “Ow!” She jerked her fingers back from the bubbling pot of raspberry jam and then resumed the steady stirring motion.
“Maggie, you’ve filled that kettle too full. I suppose you were trying to maximize the berries and minimize the sugar again?” Kayleen shook her head at the thick red mass and moved to pour boiling water over the jars in the sink. “I hope it gels,” she muttered.
“If it doesn’t, the girls can eat it on ice cream,” Maggie told her, removing the pot from the element and then skimming the light pink foam off. “What happened?”
“Oh, I tried to get a perm. You know the Peters girl?” At Maggie’s distracted nod she continued. “Well, she’s trying out for her licence this month and she wanted to practice one last time. I let her.”
“And in the process you lost four inches of hair?” Maggie took the measuring cup from Kayleen’s hand with a muttered thanks and began scooping the thick syrupy jam into jars, snapping on the lids as she went. “What really happened, Mother?”
“I just told you.” Kayleen poured herself a cup of coffee and sank into the nearest chair, patting her shorn head. “She used too much solution and left it on too long. There wasn’t any other option but to cut off the damaged parts.”
Maggie poured the last of the jam into its container and slipped the lid on before inverting the jar on the counter and setting the Dutch oven in the sink. At last she turned and studied her mother thoroughly.
“I like it,” she said finally. “It makes your eyes look huge.” The soft feathery silver strands lay close against her mother’s head, a curling tendril caressing her cheek here and there. “You look young and carefree.”
“Your father will have a fit,” Kayleen said calmly. “But he’ll get over it. And he won’t be able to gripe about how much time it takes me to get ready for church anymore.” She smiled, patting the lavender sac at her feet. “He’ll have even less to say when I show him my new nightie.”
“Mother!” Maggie gasped, laughing appreciatively. “You are the most devious, conniving woman.”
“It’s not devious,” Kayleen argued. “It’s common sense. Herman likes me to look my best.” She preened a bit. “And believe me, I do look good in that.”
“Mother, have you lost weight?” Maggie studied the pronounced cheekbones and angular chin line. “Your face looks thinner.”
“Why, thank you, de
ar!” Kayleen beamed. “I’ve lost twelve pounds now. And I don’t feel nearly so dumpy. I think feeling good about yourself makes such a difference to a woman’s looks.” Her eyes slid over her daughter. “You look pretty good yourself. Anything you want to tell me about?”
“No. Nothing.” Maggie turned away to pour herself a cup of coffee and then sank down into a chair, ignoring her mother’s knowing look.
“Margaret Mary McCarthy! You tell me right this minute what’s put that sparkle in your eyes!”
“Or what?” Maggie giggled. “You’ll put me over your knee?” She laughed out loud at Kayleen’s glowering face.
“And don’t think I can’t,” the tiny powerhouse threatened. “Now tell all.”
“Grady has asked me to marry him.” Maggie could hardly believe it herself. Was it any wonder she whispered?
“Excellent!” Kayleen rubbed her hands together. “When’s the wedding?”
“Mother! We haven’t decided on a wedding. I’m still thinking about things.” The old yearning rose in her but she stifled it down.
“What’s to think about? That man out there—” Kayleen jerked her thumb toward the barn “—wants to marry you. Presumably he loves you?”
“He says he does.”
“Then what’s the problem? Is something wrong, dear? Don’t you love him?”
“Of course I love him. That’s not it.” Maggie flopped back in her chair and stared at the dingy old ceiling. “I’m just not sure. We’re so different.”
“Different? How?” Kayleen sat silent, waiting, Maggie knew, for her to open up.
“Grady wants us to stay on the farm. He wants to build it up. He thinks this place is better than sliced bread!” She glanced around the tired old kitchen dismissively.
“There was a time,” Kayleen said quietly, “when you thought that way, too.”
“Well, I’ve smartened up since I was eighteen. I feel like the farm is dragging the very life out of me,” Maggie burst out. She grimaced as the pipes began a high-pitched whine. “Every single thing in this place needs fixing!”