Maggie's War

by Terrie Todd

  “Good news, Mrs. Wilson,” the nurse announced. “You’re going to have company this afternoon. Your guardians have arrived from Winnipeg.”

  Charlotte gaped at her. “My—my what?”

  “Your guardians. The Marshalls. They’ll be in as soon as visiting hours start.”

  “But—” How on earth had Mrs. Marshall found her? And who was with her? Mr. Marshall was dead. Wasn’t he?

  “Is this little guy ready to return to the nursery?” the nurse asked.

  Charlotte’s head was spinning. If Mrs. Marshall was here, she’d explain everything about Darcy being born out of wedlock and how he was supposed to be adopted. They’d take him away! She couldn’t let that happen.

  “Can I keep him awhile longer?” She gave the nurse the most serene smile she could muster.

  It must have worked, for the woman smiled back. “Sure. Ring your bell if he gets fussy or when you’re tired. We need to make sure you’re getting adequate rest.”

  As soon as the nurse left the room, Charlotte got up. Weak and dizzy, she felt her heart racing at a steady clip. She left Darcy in the middle of her bed while she found her clothes and put them on. Miraculously, the bag she had carried onto the train lay at the bottom of the tiny locker beneath the clothes she’d worn. God bless Marlajean!

  She removed just enough clothing from the bag to be able to nestle the sleeping baby on top and then left the bag as wide open as she dared. Poking her head out the door, she peered down the hallway. A doctor was heading toward her, but she ducked back inside until he passed. When she stepped out into the hallway, she had no idea which direction to go. At the first corner, she turned right. From there, she saw a door across the hall. It had a window in it through which she could see blue sky. Once the coast was clear, she dashed across the hall and out the door as quickly as her aching body would allow.

  She found herself in a grassy courtyard, hemmed in on all four sides by hospital walls. When she tried to duck back inside, she heard footsteps coming toward her at a sharp clip, and closed the door again.

  Charlotte checked on Darcy, who was still sleeping contentedly in her bag. She crossed to the opposite side of the courtyard, where there was another door. She opened it with caution and peeked inside. A cafeteria, deserted except for some kitchen staff busily wiping down counters. Good. She slipped in and tried to look like she belonged. Head held high and with as much confidence as she could muster, she walked close to one wall until she reached a set of double doors. To her relief, they led to an open veranda.

  Outside, Charlotte carried her precious cargo around to the opposite side of the building, where a parking lot was filling with afternoon visitors. She turned the corner just in time to see Maggie Marshall and that minister friend of hers walking in the front door. She was free!

  Now where? Charlotte had no time to think. As she made her way across the street to get as far from Mrs. Marshall as possible, the only thing she knew for sure was that she was already exhausted. Her body ached, and she had no idea how long Darcy could hold out. The only logical place to go was the train station. Once she was on the train, she could rest. She could be in Petawawa by morning. Reginald would take care of everything, if she could only find him.

  She shook off the nagging thought that perhaps this wasn’t true.

  But where was the train station? She remembered little about her ambulance ride, but she was certain it had taken only a few minutes. A woman approached.

  “Excuse me.” Charlotte tried to appear calm. “Can you tell me where I might find the train station?”

  “Oh, sure. It’s just up that way a few blocks. You can’t miss it. You can hear the trains from here.”

  Charlotte thanked the woman and carried on as fast as her stamina would allow. Once she reached the station, she had to sit on the platform bench to rest before she could go inside. She hoped the train to Petawawa hadn’t left.

  She lifted Darcy out of the duffel bag. He stirred, but didn’t appear hungry yet. A new thought occurred to her, though. He’d be due for a diaper change soon, if he wasn’t already. And she had nothing. Not even one diaper! What was she going to do? Digging around in her bag, she contemplated how she might use some of her own clothing—undergarments and otherwise—to fashion diapers until she could come up with something better.

  Carrying the bag in her right hand and snuggling Darcy close in her left arm, she entered the station. Thankfully, there was no lineup at the ticket counter.

  “Good afternoon.” She did her best impression of a grown-up. “I have a ticket from Winnipeg to Petawawa but, unfortunately, I was detained here and had to delay my excursion. I would very much like to continue my journey now. Can you arrange it, please?”

  The man looked from her face to the baby and back. Then he spoke so slowly, she thought he might be intellectually stunted.

  “Uh . . . yeah. We can get you on a train to Petawawa. Sure thing.” He took Charlotte’s ticket stub. “Why don’t you have a seat over there? I’ll just have to run this past the station manager.”

  “What time will I be boarding?” she asked.

  “Depends, ma’am. Soonest would be the three o’clock coming from Dryden, but . . . uh . . . only if the seats aren’t all booked. Servicemen take priority, of course. And the baby travels free as long as you’re holding her.”

  “Him.”

  “Oh. He sure is a new little feller, ain’t he?”

  Charlotte turned away from the ticket window and looked at the large clock on the wall. It was only 1:15. She needed to be on that train before Mrs. Marshall found her. “I’ll just go have a seat. Please call me the second I can board. My name is Charlotte Penfield.”

  Charlotte felt ready to collapse and wished the benches weren’t so hard. She fished a sweater out of her bag and folded it to sit on. But when she adjusted the baby in her arms, she felt something soaking her sleeve. Oh no.

  In the ladies’ room, she discovered a long vanity with chairs in front of it. She busied herself with the baby until the only other occupant left the room. Upon examination she found that Darcy’s diaper, nightgown, and blanket were all wet. The towel dispenser offered long strips of fabric that rolled around as you pulled fresh sections down. Charlotte gave several firm tugs and tried to tear the fabric off, but it was too strong. With one of Darcy’s diaper pins, she managed to work enough threads loose at the selvage edge of the material to make a small tear. Starting there, she ripped the cloth in half, and then with one mighty yank, wrenched the fabric free from the dispenser. Charlotte used it to fashion a diaper, which she pinned on her little boy. He was starting to fuss.

  “Shh, little pumpkin,” she crooned. “Mommy’s gonna get you fixed up.”

  She pulled one of her own nightgowns out of the bag and tore it in half. She swaddled Darcy in the soft flannel and stuffed the wet things into the bottom of her bag. She could deal with those later.

  A woman with a little girl came in to use the facilities, and Charlotte studied her own reflection while she waited for them to leave. She was so pale, it was hard to recognize herself. As she swayed back and forth trying to keep Darcy quiet, she wondered who that girl in the mirror could be.

  After the woman and little girl left, Charlotte tore another long strip of toweling off the machine and stuffed it into her bag. There would be time on the train to rip it into diaper-sized pieces. By this time, Darcy was wailing to be fed. She sat down on one of the chairs to nurse him, thankful they were padded. Every muscle in her body ached, her mouth felt like parchment, and the room was beginning to wobble.

  CHAPTER 18

  Maggie led the way to room 103. Though the other rooms each bore the names of two patients, only one name appeared on this door: Charlotte Wilson.

  “Why don’t you go on in?” Reuben said. “I’ll wait here for a bit.”

  “Afraid you might see somethin’ inappropriate?” Maggie teased.

  “Yes, actually,” he said.

  Maggie turned and g
ave a quiet knock on the door, then another when she heard no answer.

  “Thank you for helping me find her,” she said, without glancing Reuben’s way. She pushed the door partway open and stuck her head in the room. “Charlotte?”

  No answer. Maggie walked in, Reuben following. The room was deserted. One bed still had its hospital corners tightly tucked. The other looked recently occupied, but no one was in the room.

  “Where do you suppose she could be?” Maggie flipped open the locker-style closet.

  “Careful, Maggie. We still don’t know for sure it’s her.”

  “It’s her all right.” Maggie held up a blue sweater. “She lived in this thing for weeks, even after it got too snug.”

  They made their way back to the maternity ward nursing station, and Maggie asked where Charlotte might be. A nurse with a nametag displaying R. Dobson gave Maggie a blank stare and then confirmed the room number from her chart.

  “I’m telling you, no one’s there,” Maggie said.

  Nurse Dobson led Maggie and Reuben back to the room. “Mrs. Wilson?”

  She took in the sight and then practically flew to the nursery, instructing Maggie and Reuben to wait in the hallway. When she came back, her face was ashen and she asked them to take a seat.

  It was Reuben who spoke up. “Wait a minute. Are you telling us you don’t know where she is?”

  “Please just have a seat. She couldn’t have gone far.” When they didn’t budge, Nurse Dobson sighed and turned to her co-workers. A younger nurse explained that she’d gone to Charlotte’s room to return the baby to the nursery after his last feeding, and while she was there had given Charlotte the good news that her guardians had arrived.

  Nurse Dobson glanced toward Maggie, then back again. “Where’s the baby now?”

  The younger nurse looked down at her shoes. “I didn’t bring him to the nursery. Mrs. Wilson asked if she could keep him with her for a while. I didn’t see any harm in it.”

  “How long ago was all this?” Reuben asked.

  Before she could answer, the front-desk receptionist rushed in, a slip of paper in her hand. “Excuse me, Nurse Dobson, could I speak to you please?” she asked. The pair of them stepped aside, out of earshot.

  When she returned, Nurse Dobson dismissed the younger nurse and turned to Maggie and Reuben. “A man from the train station called. It seems a young woman with a newborn just showed up there inquiring about a ticket to Petawawa. He said he thinks you folks might be looking for her.”

  Maggie bolted for the door and heard Reuben toss a thank-you over his shoulder as she raced through it. Why hadn’t she and Reuben waited here instead of going out to eat? What was that crazy girl thinking? How had Charlotte gotten out without being stopped?

  “We can’t let her get on that train, Reuben.” Maggie opened the passenger door and climbed in.

  “I have a hunch they’ll manage to detain her.” Reuben started the car and raced to the station.

  “Was that part of your dream, too, or just a regular hunch like normal people have?”

  Reuben ignored her cynical tone. “Just a regular hunch.”

  They pulled up in front of the station and ran inside. The place had filled with travelers since that morning, and they both scanned the crowd—made up mostly of servicemen in uniform. “See her?” Maggie asked.

  “No. I’ll go talk to the ticket agent. Why don’t you check the washroom?”

  Maggie headed in that direction, but just before she reached the door, a pale figure emerged, carrying a duffel bag and a tiny infant.

  “Charlotte!” Maggie’s arms instinctively reached out toward the girl as relief washed through her.

  Reuben heard her cry out and came running over. Recognition dawned in Charlotte’s eyes as she saw Maggie.

  “Are you okay?” Maggie stepped forward, her arms still outstretched.

  Charlotte relinquished the baby to Maggie, then dropped her bag just in time for Reuben to catch her in his arms.

  She had passed out cold.

  CHAPTER 19

  When Charlotte fully awoke, she realized she was in her hospital bed. She had only the vaguest recollection of having been carried somewhere. Had she dreamed the entire escape? The train station washroom had seemed so real. Where was Darcy?

  “You awake?”

  Charlotte turned toward the stiff voice. Mrs. Marshall sat in the chair while her preacher friend stood by the window, looking out. He turned at the sound of her voice.

  “Where’s my baby?”

  “He’s fine. He’s in the nursery. The staff took care of his wet things from your bag.” Mrs. Marshall sounded matter-of-fact. Was she angry?

  “I want to see him.” Charlotte looked down at her hand and noticed an IV.

  “They’re just getting some fluids into you, that’s all,” Mrs. Marshall said. She sounded just like she often did at the restaurant, disgusted and impatient. Yet there was something different there too.

  Charlotte suddenly remembered the look on Mrs. Marshall’s face when she’d spotted her at the train station and cried out her name—panic and relief rolled into one. “Why did you come?”

  Mrs. Marshall glanced at the preacher, then back to Charlotte. “Why did you try to run away? That was quite the Houdini stunt.”

  Charlotte blinked back tears. What had she been thinking? She hadn’t even had enough strength to get herself on a train, let alone to make the rest of the trip and take care of a baby with no supplies, no money.

  “I just—I can’t give up Darcy, Mrs. Marshall. I can’t do it.” Though she wanted to sound strong, her voice was little more than a pathetic squeak.

  “Darcy?”

  “Is that your son’s name?” The preacher man had turned around. “It’s a nice one. Irish, I think.” He looked at Mrs. Marshall. “Like you, Maggie.”

  Charlotte looked up at the man. “What’s yours?”

  “I’m sorry.” The man took a step toward the bed, holding his hat in both hands. “Reuben Fennel. I’m an old friend of your—of Mrs. Marshall’s. I’ve seen you at the restaurant.”

  Mrs. Marshall let out a huff of air. “Now that everybody knows who everybody is, perhaps we can start sorting out this mess. For starters, Charlotte, the note you left behind was hardly truthful.”

  With one stern comment, Mrs. Marshall could turn Charlotte into a little girl again. “I’m sorry. I never dreamed you’d come looking for me.”

  “Where were you going? I was frantic. If it weren’t for the reverend here, we’d still be on the road to Petawawa. Then we finally find you only to discover that you’ve taken off again.”

  Charlotte could hear the frustration in Mrs. Marshall’s voice and hung her head. They would never let her keep Darcy now, not when she’d behaved like such a child. “It was stupid. I see that now. But Mrs. Marshall, you can’t let them take Darcy. Please!”

  Mrs. Marshall stared back and let out a huge sigh. “It’s not for me to say, Charlotte. Your parents will be passing through Winnipeg in a few weeks and you had better be there, ready to go home with them like they planned. Alone.” She stood and headed for the door.

  Charlotte could feel desperation rising. “Where are you going?”

  The woman didn’t turn around. “I’m going to see what the staff can tell me about adoption regulations in Ontario.” She headed directly out the door without slowing down, even after Charlotte began to sob.

  The preacher pulled the one chair in the room closer to Charlotte’s bed and sat on it. He reached across and put one hand on Charlotte’s arm and with the other, handed her a handkerchief. He waited until her sobs subsided.

  “I imagine you must feel very alone.”

  Charlotte looked up into the kind eyes. No judgment or impatience registered on his face. She sniffed and nodded.

  “You know Mrs. Marshall cares about you, Charlotte. Don’t you?”

  Charlotte rolled her eyes.

  “It’s hard for her to show it, but believe me. I
heard the panic in her voice when she called me to help.”

  “That’s only because she’s going to be in big trouble for losing track of me,” she said bitterly. When the preacher didn’t respond, she finally looked up into his face and sighed. “I guess she cared enough to come all this way. Did she contact my parents?”

  “She tried, several times. If we hadn’t caught up with you, we’d have tried Camp Petawawa next. That’s where the baby’s father is, right?”

  “Yes.” Charlotte was surprised Mrs. Marshall had remembered those details about her life. She’d mentioned Reginald and where he was only once, shortly after her arrival.

  “Would you like to talk about him?”

  Charlotte gazed out the window. “It’s not fair that he doesn’t even know he has a son, is it? Shouldn’t he know?”

  Reverend Fennel paused. “I’d have to agree with you there. He should have the chance to make his own decision about how to handle his responsibilities.”

  “Yes, that’s what I mean.” Did Charlotte finally have someone on her side?

  “But he might choose to not be involved. Then you’d have to accept his decision, whichever way it goes.”

  Charlotte turned onto her side, facing away from the preacher. What did he know anyway? And what did Grumpystiltskin know? She’d never had a baby, she couldn’t possibly understand Charlotte’s torment. Reginald would be a good father, once given the opportunity. Why shouldn’t he get the chance?

  “Everything will work out. You get some rest.” The preacher patted Charlotte’s shoulder and started toward the door. But she didn’t want to be left alone.

  “It’s not like I imagined,” she said in a tiny voice.

  She sensed the man stop and turn around. “What isn’t?”

  Charlotte played with the pilled threading of her blanket and still kept her back toward the preacher. “If I had known what it’s like to bring a baby into the world, I never—I never would have let them arrange the adoption.”