by Ginna Gray
Maggie could sense that morale in the office was not what it should be, and she wondered how much of the blame for that could be laid at Miss Udall's feet.
In the past Malone's had always been a cheerful, relaxed place to work, but from the nervous glances the people in accounting cast Elaine Udall's way it was clear that the woman ruled with an iron hand.
Even people who did not work in her department seemed leery of her.
That kind of whip-cracking approach to management did not go over well in small towns like Ruby Falls, where everybody knew everybody, and it had never been Malone's policy. Maggie was surprised that her father had allowed the uncomfortable work atmosphere to develop.
At closing time she left the office along with the staff. A storm was brewing toward the south. Lightning forked from the dark thunderheads. With every clap, the ramble of thunder grew louder, and the smell of approaching rain hung in the still air.
Anxious to get home before the storm broke, Maggie hurried through the orchard, mulling over all she had learned on the way. If she and her father had been on better terms she would go to him and discuss the situation, but until she had something concrete to report he was sure to brush aside her concerns.
As she came through the garden gate the first drops of rain began to fall, big drops the size of grapes that pelted her like hail. A crack of thunder almost directly overhead sent Maggie sprinting for the house.
She burst through the kitchen door, out of breath and laughing, her top plastered to her skin. Startled, Ida Lou whirled around.
"Lord'a' mercy, child, you're soaked. Here, dry yourself before you take chill and catch your death of cold," she said, tossing her a towel.
"Thanks." Maggie blotted her arms and face, then rubbed the towel over her hair while she sniffed the air. "Mmm, something sure smells good. And I'm starving."
"It's roast beef, and it's not done yet, so there's no use in hintin' around for a bite. Dinner'll be ready at seven as usual, so just go on with you."
"Not even a little bite? Pretty please," Maggie cajoled, doing her best to look pitiful.
"No. Those who skip meals can just go hungry, I say," she stated with a huff. Then she flapped her apron. "Now, shoo. Get out of my kitchen, you're dripping all over my clean floor."
"I'm going, I'm going." Chuckling, Maggie pushed through the swinging doors.
Her sisters were in the family room with their parents. They didn't notice her when she paused in the doorway, and as she took in the scene Maggie felt the same sense of isolation she'd experienced growing up.
Laurel sat beside their father on the sofa, and Jo Beth was curled up on the floor beside his feet, her head leaning against his knee. Jacob absently stroked his youngest daughter's cap of dark hair, but his gaze was focused on Laurel's face as she pleaded earnestly.
"The doctor I spoke to in Houston is willing to take you into his study. This new medication they're testing may be just the answer for you, Daddy. If you agree, we can take you to Houston first thing Monday morning. They'll put you through a battery of tests and start you on the program. Of course, you'll have to stay in the hospital there, but—"
"I don't think so, baby."
"Daddy, please—"
"No, Laurel. I know you mean well, but you have to accept that it's too late for me. I'm going to spend my last days at home with my loved ones, not in a hospital being prodded and poked and studied like a lab rat."
"But at least this offers some hope, Daddy."
"Oh, sweetheart, we both know the chances of me finding a cure at this late date are zero to none. No, baby," Jacob said softly, patting her hand. "I thank you for caring, but no."
The look of absolute love in his eyes as he gazed into Laurel's anguished face pierced Maggie's heart like a spear. Without making a sound, she turned away and went upstairs to her room.
The storm had leveled off to a steady downpour by the time Maggie came downstairs. When she entered the dining room she was startled to find Dan there with her parents and sisters. After only an initial blink of surprise, she smiled and drawled, "Well, hello there, sugar. I didn't know you were joining us."
"His name is Daniel, Katherine," her father snapped.
"Yes, Daddy, I know. And mine is Maggie," she replied, and slipped into the chair next to her mother's at the opposite end of the table from him. Her father's mouth tightened, but she pretended not to notice.
As usual, Laurel and Jo Beth took the chairs flanking Jacob's at the head of the table. Dan sat down across from Maggie, on her mother's left.
Throughout the meal Maggie remained silent except when someone directed a remark to her. Usually that was Jo Beth, getting in one of her "zingers," followed by Lily doing her fluttery best to play peacemaker and smooth things over. Once or twice Dan made a polite remark or asked a question. Each time Maggie dredged up a glib reply, but otherwise she kept her eyes on her plate and didn't encourage conversation.
Neither her father nor Laurel addressed her.
Several times Maggie glanced up and caught Dan staring at her, but she ignored him and applied herself to the delicious meal.
It wasn't difficult. Ida Lou had outdone herself, and after skipping lunch, Maggie was ravenous. She put away two plates piled high with roast beef and gravy, mashed potatoes, green been amandine and pickled beets, then topped it all off with a piece of lemon meringue pie.
When she'd finished the last bite she looked up and discovered that Dan was watching her with a look of mild amazement.
"I thought models only ate salads."
Maggie chuckled and patted her flat tummy. "Not me. It takes more than rabbit food to satisfy my appetite. Besides, I tend to get crabby when I'm hungry."
"Oh, dear, we wouldn't want that," Jo Beth jibed. "Heaven forbid Miss Glamor Queen is anything but perfect."
"Jo Beth," Lily warned, but her tone had grown weary from repeated reprimands.
Other than to cast the teenager a quizzical glance, Dan went on as though she hadn't spoken.
"Somehow I don't think there's much danger of that happening tonight."
"Daddy, are you all right?"
Laurel's worried tone drew everyone's attention to the head of the table. A painful tangle of emotions knotted inside Maggie. Merely eating a meal had sapped Jacob. He sagged in his chair like an old, old man, his face ashen.
Instantly, Lily was on her feet and hurrying to her husband's side. Maggie and Dan followed right behind her.
"Time to get you to bed, dearest," Lily gently declared. "It's been a big day and you're worn out."
"You'll get no argument from me. Sorry to poop out on you, Dan. Maybe we can go over those reports tomorrow morning at breakfast."
"No problem. There's nothing that can't wait."
"I'll get Ida Lou," Laurel offered, but no sooner had she spoken than the housekeeper appeared in the doorway.
"What's this now? Plumb tuckered out, are you? Well, let's get you upstairs."
"I've got him." Dan scooped Jacob up in his arms as though he weighed no more than a sack of flour and strode out of the room.
Watching, Maggie stared after them, biting her lower lip. "Oh, God, it breaks my heart to see him so sick and weak," she murmured.
"Yeah, right. Like you really care. If you did you would've come home to see him before now."
Maggie exhaled a long sigh. "You know, little sister, I'm getting tired of your constant sniping. Do you honestly think I didn't want to come home? That I didn't long to see my family? It nearly killed me to stay away. But I had no choice. By now you must know that Daddy threw me out seven years ago and told me never to come back. He's only tolerating my being here now for Momma's sake."
"Yes, and I know why he threw you out," she shouted, jumping to her feet so suddenly her chair tumbled over backward. Shaking with fury, she glared at Maggie, her young face flushed with outrage and hurt and confusion. "Everybody in town knows. It's so humiliating. I don't know how Laurel can stand to be around you. I
certainly can't!"
With that parting shot, she whirled and ran from the room, leaving a thick silence behind.
The two sisters stood frozen in place as Jo Beth's footsteps pounded up the stairs, then faded down the upper hall. A few seconds later her bedroom door slammed.
Maggie sighed again and looked at her sister, wincing. "I'm so sorry, sis. I didn't mean for that to happen."
Laurel stood ramrod stiff, staring at the floor, her face stricken. She shook her head. "It doesn't matter."
"I think it does. Otherwise you wouldn't look like you'd just been slapped. Laurel, don't you think it's time we talked this out? We never have, you know."
Laurel's head snapped up. Her wide-eyed expression was one of absolute horror. "No!" She shook her head again, so hard the clip that held her lank hair back went flying. "There's nothing to talk about."
"Nothing to talk about? Dammit, Laurel, that night changed my life. It changed all our lives. I'd say we have plenty to talk about. And it's long overdue."
"No. It's over and done with, and I just want to forget it ever happened."
"Laurel—"
"I have to go. Tell Momma good-night for me. And that I'll call her tomorrow." Before Maggie could protest she darted past her and out of the dining room.
"Laurel, wait!"
Laurel pushed open the front screen door on the run, but before it could swing shut all the way Maggie shoved it open again and followed her out onto the veranda. The screen door slammed shut behind her, but the sound was barely audible over the noise of the storm.
Rain poured down in torrents. It danced and splattered against the sidewalk and the railings, creating a fine mist that roiled up under the veranda roof.
At first Maggie didn't see her sister. She halted in the pale rectangle of light slanting through the screen door and looked around. How could she have disappeared so quickly? Then jagged lightning flashed across the night sky, and she saw her fumbling in the darkness for the umbrella she'd left on the porch earlier.
Locating the umbrella, Laurel snatched it up and headed for the steps as thunder cracked and rumbled with a force that vibrated the ground. Maggie sidestepped in front of her, blocking her way.
"Laurel, listen to me. I didn't try to seduce Martin that night. I swear it. Dear God, Laurel, we were so close back then, you and I. How could you believe I would do something like that?"
"Martin said you thought I'd call off the wedding if you could get him to sleep with you. You had just tried to convince me to do just that."
"Jeezlouise, Laurel, I love you dearly, and there's not much I wouldn't do for you, but I draw the line at sleeping with Martin." Even the thought sent a little shudder through her.
"Martin said—"
"Martin lied. For God's sake, he tried to rape me! He would have succeeded if Daddy hadn't interrupted. Then the weasel turned it all around and claimed that I came on to him!"
Laurel's chin came up. "Daddy believed him."
"Because Daddy wanted to believe him. Daddy has always wanted to believe the worst of me. You know that."
Laurel's mouth began to quiver, and even in the dim light Maggie could see the sheen of moisture in her eyes. Still she shook her head. "No. No, he … he wouldn't do that. He wouldn't."
With jerky movements she raised the umbrella over her head and turned to step out into the rain.
"Dammit, Laurel, listen to me!" Maggie grabbed her sister's arm to stop her but let go instantly when Laurel cried out.
"What's wrong? Oh, God! Did I hurt you?"
Grimacing, Laurel cradled her arm against her side and shook her head. "No. No, of course not. I … I just have a little bruise, is all."
"Let me see."
"No, really, I'm fine," she began, but before she could stop her, Maggie grabbed her wrist and pushed up the loose bell sleeve of her dress.
She sucked in a hissing breath and stared, appalled, at the livid bruises that discolored her sister's skin from mid-forearm to her shoulder and beyond.
Slowly, she raised her head, and her shocked gaze met Laurel's uncomfortable one. "I wondered why you were wearing long sleeves on such a warm night. Did Martin do this to you?"
"Of course not." Laurel jerked her wrist from Maggie's grasp and quickly pushed down the loose sleeve. "I, uh, I just had a little accident."
"An accident? What kind of accident? And why didn't you tell anyone about it?"
"I fell down the stairs. It's nothing. And I didn't mention it because I didn't want to worry Momma and Daddy. They have enough on their minds already."
"Are you sure? Laurel, you would tell me if—"
"There's nothing to tell. I had an accident, that's all. Now, I really have to go."
She darted down the steps into the rain and hurried to her car. Maggie didn't dare try to stop her, for fear of hurting her again.
Frustration and uneasiness niggled at her. The mist dampened her skin and the air seemed suddenly chilly. Absently, she rubbed her hands up and down her arms, and watched the taillights on her sister's car grow dim though the rain and recede down the drive.
"You're worried, aren't you?"
Maggie's heart leapt right up into her throat. Her head snapped around toward that deep voice as Dan stepped out of the shadows.
Her heart still clubbed against her ribs, but with an effort, she swallowed down the jolt of fear and cocked an eyebrow.
"Eavesdropping, were you? Why, sugar, you surprise me. I never would've taken you for a snoop."
"It wasn't deliberate."
"No? Then what were you doing skulking around in the shadows."
"I was hardly skulking. I know it embarrasses Jacob for me to see how weak he is. So I carried him upstairs and left him to Lily's care as quickly as I could. When I came downstairs I started to stop by the dining room to say good-night, but when I heard you and Laurel arguing I decided the best thing to do was leave quietly. I was just standing here waiting for the rain to slack up a bit when the two of you stormed out onto the porch."
"You could have let us know you were here."
"True, but I didn't want to embarrass your sister."
Maggie tossed her hair back and gave a mirthless laugh. "But you don't mind embarrassing me, is that it?"
"I doubt that you embarrass easily."
He stepped farther into the light. Those pale eyes zeroed in on her face. "So, do you think Martin is abusing her?"
Sighing, Maggie hugged her arms tighter around her body and for once let her glib facade fall away. She was too tired and too emotionally drained to bother. Her mouth flattened into a grim line. "I wouldn't put it past him. But I can't prove it. It's possible she did fall down the stairs, I suppose."
Crossing his arms over his chest, Dan tipped his head to one side and studied her serious expression. "Did Martin really try to rape you?" he asked quietly. "Or was he telling the truth about you trying to come between him and Laurel?"
Maggie slanted him a look. "If you have to ask, there's no point in me answering, is there?" She looked away again and shrugged one shoulder. "Believe what you like. It makes no difference to me."
"Nice try, but it won't work this time. You lied to me, Red."
"Excuse me?"
Dan edged closer. "Earlier you led me to believe you didn't care what people think. That's not the impression I got from your conversation with Laurel."
He was standing so close, Maggie had difficulty concentrating on his words. As though her sensory perception had been heightened by the drama of the storm raging around them, she became acutely aware of several things at once—the heat from Dan's body, his clean, masculine scent, mingled with the smell of laundry soap and woodsy cologne, the dark chest hair peeking out of the V-neck of his sport shirt. He was big and powerful, and utterly male, and something about him pulled at her. It almost felt as though there was a strong magnetic current flowing between them.
Lord, Mag, get a grip. You're tired, and the strain of the last few days is getting t
o you, she told herself, but it didn't help. Just being this close to him made her skin tingle and started a trembling deep inside her body.
He felt the attraction, as well. She could see the awareness in those silvery eyes, feel it radiating from him, along with a powerful resentment for his own weakness.
He still looked at her with suspicion, but that didn't seem to matter. A part of her—the young girl deep inside starved for love, no doubt, she thought scornfully—longed to lay her head on that broad chest, feel those strong arms enfold her.
Maggie turned her head away sharply, unsettled by the foolish yearning. "I don't care what most people think."
For a long time she gazed at the faint spots of glowing red disappearing around the bend in the road. "Only those who matter."
Giving a little huff, she eased away to put some space between them. "Not that it matters or changes anything. Laurel doesn't believe me any more than Daddy does."
Turning, she tilted her chin and looked him square in the eye. "Or you."
* * *
Eight
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Tuning out his sister's cheerful chatter, Jacob sipped his morning coffee and gazed out across the sloping backyard and surrounding orchard, drinking the familiar beauty of it all deep into his soul.
Lord, how he loved this place, he thought with fierce pride. He'd been born here, lived in this gracious old house all of his life, knew every inch of it—the house, the land, the cannery—like the back of his hand. It was inconceivable that he would leave it soon.
Yet every day the end drew nearer.
The knowledge filled him with sadness and, yes, a touch of fear, but most of all a consuming desire to seize each precious moment left to him. Coming face-to-face with his mortality had given him a new appreciation for the simple things, things he'd taken for granted for so long—the beauty of a sunrise, the smell of honeysuckle, the sparkle of dew on the grass, the sound of a mockingbird at dawn, the touch of a loved one's hand against his skin. Even his coffee tasted better now.