Maggie's War

by Terrie Todd

  Reuben watched the two women cross the ditch and settle down with his old car blanket on some soft grass. He studied the confusing automobile parts again, then beseeched his master aloud.

  “Lord, I should have learned a thing or two about cars before owning one. It’s just irresponsible, and I’m sorry. Please forgive me. I’ll take some kind of basic mechanics course first opportunity I get, I promise. And Lord, there’s nothing worse than feeling like an incompetent man when you’ve got ladies and children under your care. Please, for their sake, bring help. Or show me what to do.”

  Reuben looked both ways down the long stretch of road, but saw nothing. How long had it been since they’d met another vehicle? He walked around the car twice, then stopped to look under the hood again. On his next trip around the car, he pulled drinking water out of the back and carried it to Maggie. He returned to the car and circled it once more. Then he got inside and tried to start it again, to no avail.

  “Time to shout yet?” Maggie called from across the ditch.

  “Huh?” Reuben thought he hadn’t heard her right.

  “You look like Joshua marching around Jericho. I think it’s been seven times by now. Maybe you should shout.”

  “Very funny. I want it to start, not collapse.”

  Reuben had lost track of how many times he’d repeated the process of looking under the hood, circling the car, and trying to start it. He looked over at the women. Maggie appeared to have spotted some kind of wild berries and was picking them. Trust her to turn this delay into a practical pursuit. How could he let her down like this, now that they were halfway home?

  The next time he raised his eyes to the horizon, he spotted a cloud of dust up ahead. Could it be?

  “Oh, Lord, please let that be someone who knows a thing or two.”

  The cloud took a long time to get bigger. As the dust slowly grew closer, Reuben could see it came from a tractor. No wonder it was taking forever.

  “Trouble?” A leather-skinned farmer with a bandanna around his neck called down from the seat of a faded red International Harvester. The machine throttled down.

  “Yes, sir. Overheated, I think.”

  Maggie wandered over to join them. Reuben couldn’t remember the last time he’d felt so humiliated. He was glad he hadn’t worn his clerical collar. He didn’t want to add to any stereotypical notions the farmer might have of pastors being pansies.

  “Yer right about that,” the man said after one quick look. “And here’s your problem, right here. Broken fan belt. No wonder she overheated.”

  Maggie looked over at Reuben. “We got a spare one?”

  Reuben shook his head.

  “Got a pair of nylon stockings? I’ve seen them work real well in a pinch.” The farmer spit on the ground. “Course, you’re gonna need water for the radiator too.”

  “Water we have.” Reuben turned to Maggie. “Nylon stockings?”

  Maggie’s jaw dropped. “Nylons? Are you kidding me? Do you know how hard those are to come by since this darn war started? I didn’t even wear them to my own husband’s funeral!”

  The farmer looked from Maggie to Reuben and back again. “How about the other lady?” He had spotted Charlotte, who was crossing the ditch toward them.

  “Charlotte, you got a pair of nylon stockings in that bag of yours?” Maggie asked.

  “Me? No. Whatever for?”

  When Reuben explained, the girl got in the car and began fishing through her bag.

  “Will this work?” she asked, holding up a long strip of sturdy toweling from a public washroom dispenser.

  CHAPTER 24

  It was evening before they hit the road again in earnest. Maggie was restless to get home, but she did her best to keep quiet about the delay. Charlotte’s toweling had done the trick as a makeshift fan belt until they made it to Lake of the Woods. There, a mechanic with a patch on one eye got them fixed up properly while the three travelers enjoyed a meal of fresh corn on the cob from a local stand on the other side of the road. While they ate, the conversation turned to theology as they discussed how Charlotte’s towel could be considered a blessing from God when it had been, technically, pilfered.

  “Do I need to confess?” she asked. “Send them money to cover the cost?”

  “Do you feel guilty?” Reuben wiped butter from his chin. “Not that your feelings should be the only gauge.”

  “Not really. The towel saved our necks, didn’t it?”

  “You look entirely too pleased with yourself,” Maggie said around a mouthful.

  It felt good to be laughing. From there, things just got silly as the three of them discussed ways Charlotte could repay the railroad.

  “With your waitressing experience, you could serve in the dining car all the way across Canada,” Reuben suggested.

  Charlotte rolled her eyes. “I’d rather clean the lavatories.”

  Maggie caught herself about to use the phrase promise them your firstborn when she realized how unfunny that would sound. They had let the matter drop when it was time to load back into the car and continue their journey.

  By sundown, Charlotte and the baby were both fast asleep in the backseat. Maggie looked over at Reuben. “You doing okay?”

  “Sure. Why don’t you try to get some sleep? I’ll pull over if I get tired.”

  “Well, if you do, wake me up so I can drive. I’m ready to get home.”

  But the next time she opened her eyes, the sun was peeking over the horizon behind them. Maggie couldn’t believe it. She turned in her seat to see Charlotte and Darcy both fast asleep. “That baby slept all night? You drove all night?”

  Reuben chuckled. “The baby was awake for feeding at least twice, and we stopped for relief once. You were dead to the world.”

  “My goodness. Guess I didn’t realize how exhausted I was. Bet you could use a break.”

  Reuben pulled over. He stretched his muscles while Maggie found a thick bush to hide behind. When she was done, she climbed in the driver’s side.

  They reached Winnipeg by late afternoon and drove straight to the government adoption agency where Charlotte’s arrangements had been made. The girl had been growing quieter with every passing mile. Maggie stood watching from the sidewalk as Charlotte climbed out of the car, clutching her baby close and biting her lip. Their slow procession up the cement stairs to the front door felt like a gangplank walk, even to Maggie, who could only imagine what was going on in Charlotte’s heart.

  “You’ll need to make an appointment,” the woman at the desk told them.

  Maggie explained the situation with as much patience as she could muster. “You don’t understand. This child was supposed to be adopted out, and he is already four days old.” She looked at Darcy, snuggled innocently in Charlotte’s arms, and felt like biting her lip too. How could they hand the little gaffer over to strangers?

  “Miss Penfield’s caseworker, Mrs. Shelton, is not in the office today. She’s the one you’ll need to talk to. I can book you in for tomorrow at eleven, if that works.”

  They agreed and headed out to the car. Maggie could read the relief in Charlotte’s face and body at the reprieve. But she had to wonder: What difference would twenty-four hours make except to make things even harder?

  “Maybe we can reach your parents before then,” Maggie suggested when she noticed tears on the young mother’s cheeks.

  “They need to meet him,” Charlotte insisted. “I’m certain they’ll change their minds and let me keep him if they just get a chance to see how precious he is.”

  Reuben and Maggie exchanged a look as he started the car once again. For Charlotte’s sake, she hoped the girl was right. But either way, Maggie would soon be saying good-bye to Darcy. As she looked at his sweet little face, she couldn’t bear the thought.

  “I’ll take you home next,” Reuben said.

  “It’s out of your way,” Maggie protested. “We can catch a bus from your place, or from the church, wherever you need to go first.”


  “Out of the question. I intend to finish this adventure, and it’s not finished until you and Charlotte are safely home.”

  Maggie said nothing as she tried to hide the grin that was attempting to take over her face. Instead, she studied the familiar sights along the Winnipeg streets. The shoe-repair shop she frequented when her faithful oxfords wore through. Competing restaurants she dared not step foot in, but was curious about all the same. Her lawyer’s office. She supposed she’d have to revisit him soon and sort out the mess with Earl.

  “Nervous about the next phase of your business?” Reuben asked.

  Maggie stared at him. Could the man read her mind? “What makes you ask that?”

  “You just gave a really big sigh.”

  “I did?” Maggie figured there was no point in denying it. “Yeah, I suppose I am.”

  “Have you given it more thought?”

  No matter how she’d tried, Maggie hadn’t been able to think of any way to get out of the pickle she was in. It wasn’t as though she had a lot of options. “I guess I could give it a try with a skunk as my partner. Maybe it won’t be all that bad.” Even as she said the words, she recalled the leering Earl had done when he’d first been introduced to her during her engagement to Douglas. And after the wedding, the hand that had slipped intentionally around her waist and lingered across her buttocks. She blushed to even think about it; she wasn’t about to mention it to anyone, ever. She’d rather die than tell Reuben.

  They turned the last corner, only three blocks from her home. “Next time I take a holiday,” she joked, “I’ll try to go somewhere a little more—”

  But her words were cut short. Maggie’s jaw dropped and her heart began thumping so hard she thought it would burst through her dress. In the spot where Bert’s Restaurant had stood for twenty-five years, there now stood a gaping, open hole with makeshift fencing stretched around it and DANGER signs posted every ten feet. As they got closer, she could see the smaller print on each one: DO NOT ENTER. DO NOT CROSS, UNDER PENALTY OF LAW.

  “What the—” Reuben pulled over and parked across the street.

  Charlotte pulled herself forward in her seat. “Mrs. Marshall! What on earth’s happened?”

  Maggie was speechless. She managed to climb out of the car, though she wasn’t sure her legs would support her. She stood helplessly on the sidewalk, on the very spot she had so often stood to gaze with pride on her livelihood and her inheritance. It couldn’t be! She looked to the neighboring businesses left and right. Both were still standing, as usual. Her garden shed, formerly hidden from the street, was still there and clearly visible. Her vegetables continued to grow, a sad tangle of overripe beans, corn, and weeds.

  “My home,” Maggie finally whispered. “Daddy’s restaurant.”

  Suddenly, Arnold from Anderson’s Drugstore was at her side. “Maggie!” he said. “I saw you pull up. They’ve been looking for you. Nobody seemed to know where you were.”

  Maggie looked up at the tall, lean druggist. “Who’s been looking for me? What happened? When—? How?”

  The man put a hand on her shoulder. “This happened Saturday night. I saw flames coming out the front windows and called the fire department. They got here promptly, but they couldn’t save it. I’m sorry, Maggie.”

  “How?” she repeated. She was vaguely aware of Reuben and Charlotte on either side of her and of other neighbors who had joined them.

  Bob McClellan, the baker, handed her a Winnipeg Tribune. Today’s date was on top and the front-page headline read “Restaurant Burns. Owner Unaccounted For.” Below that was a photo of her beloved home going up in flames.

  Maggie could sense her knees weakening and felt strong arms beneath her elbows. When she looked up from the paper, she saw that it was Reuben who was supporting her. He helped her seat herself on the curb, then sat beside her, his face as distraught as she felt. He took the newspaper from her, scanning it quickly.

  “The fire marshals don’t know what caused it, or if they do, they’re not saying,” he said. “Because you and Charlotte were both missing, they fear you were both lost in the fire.”

  “Best you get down to the fire station as soon as you can,” Arnold Anderson said. “They’ll want to know you’re okay and see if you can shed any light on what caused the fire.”

  “Police will want to be involved too,” Bob McClellan said. “In case of arson.”

  “Arson?” Maggie slumped into Reuben. This couldn’t be happening. It had to be a bad dream. Surely she’d wake up any minute and find herself still riding in Reuben’s car down that dusty road. It just couldn’t be true. And the idea that someone might have done this deliberately was unthinkable. Maggie thought she might vomit.

  Suddenly she was aware of frantic sobbing behind her. Charlotte, still clutching her baby, was crying uncontrollably. “It’s my fault. It’s all my fault!”

  Reuben stood up and went to her. He wrapped an arm around her shoulder. “Shh, Charlotte. It’s not your fault. You weren’t even here.”

  “That’s just it. If I hadn’t run away, this never would have happened!”

  Darcy responded to his mother’s distress by wailing, and Maggie watched Reuben take him from her arms. He tried to shush the baby while Charlotte sat beside Maggie on the sidewalk.

  “I’m so sorry, Mrs. Marshall. I’ve brought nothing but trouble on you. You should go ahead and have me arrested. I deserve it. I deserve to be locked up, forever probably!”

  The girl’s display of dramatic nonsense served to set Maggie back on her usual course of determination.

  “Don’t be ridiculous. For all we know, you saved our hides by getting us out of here before it happened. We might have burned to death. Now come on.” She hoisted herself to her feet and pulled Charlotte up after her.

  “Reuben,” she said, “can you please take us to the fire hall?”

  CHAPTER 25

  As soon as Maggie identified herself at the front desk of the fire hall, she found herself surrounded almost immediately by a half dozen people, all peppering her with questions. The fire chief cut through them, invited her into his office, and closed the door. Reuben waited in the lobby with Charlotte, who was still trembling and crying as Maggie walked away. Through the window in the fire chief’s door, Maggie could see Reuben using the pay phone in the corner of the lobby.

  “Mrs. Marshall,” Fire Chief Bennet began. “First of all, let me say how glad we are to know you’re okay.”

  “Okay is relative,” she said flatly. “My home and my livelihood are gone.”

  “And I’m very sorry. We did everything we could.” The big man reminded her of a giant teddy bear, with his curly hair and kind eyes.

  Maggie nodded. “And I thank you. What caused the fire?”

  “We’re still working on that. I was hoping you might be able to shed some light on it for us.” He pulled a sheet of paper from a file on his desk. “At your last fire inspection, there was only one order needing remedy. We understand your apartment doubled as a home for unwed mothers, but there was no means of escape from your upper-floor bedrooms.”

  “Yes. We had a fire escape added six months ago. Of course, we never needed it and weren’t home to use it when we might have.”

  “And that could not have been the cause of a fire in any case. It appears you were meticulous about keeping your wiring and everything up to code.”

  “My father taught me that.”

  “Naturally we can’t rule out arson until we can determine a cause. Was there any chance a stove could have been left lit?”

  Maggie explained the events of the days leading up to her trip to Fort William, and watched the fire chief’s eyebrows rise several times at her complicated story. He seemed satisfied by her testimony that the stove had not been used for at least twenty-four hours prior to her departure.

  “I assume you have insurance? Is there anyone who might stand to gain by burning the restaurant?”

  Maggie thought immediately of Earl. But su
rely even he wouldn’t be foolish enough to think he had anything to gain from an insurance settlement when the paperwork was not even complete on his partnership. She shook her head. “I don’t see how.”

  Chief Bennet sat back in his chair, his crisp white shirt tightening across his barrel-chested form. “Ma’am, from what you’re telling me, you’ve had an incredible amount of stress in the past week, and you must be exhausted. I don’t see any point in keeping you here longer at this time, but I’m afraid you will have to go see the police before you call it a day. I’m sorry.” He gave Maggie a slip of paper with the name of the police officer assigned to her case, and she left his office.

  “One more stop,” she explained to Reuben. He nodded.

  “I thought we’d stop by my boardinghouse and drop Charlotte and Darcy off there,” Reuben said. “I’ve already called Mrs. O’Toole. She’ll take good care of them until we can figure something out. She’s got space for you, too.”

  Too overcome to speak, Maggie shot Reuben a grateful look. She hadn’t even thought about where she and Charlotte would lay their heads that night.

  At the police station, Maggie answered another round of similar questions. This time, Reuben remained at her side for support as they sat with an officer who had introduced himself as Detective Riley.

  “Your neighbors informed me that you recently lost your husband, Mrs. Marshall,” the young officer said. “I’m sorry.”

  “Thank you.”

  He continued. “This must come as quite a blow on the heels of so great a loss.”

  “It would have been a blow at any time,” Maggie said quietly. Reuben put a hand on her shoulder.

  “Of course.” Officer Riley paused to clear his throat. “I want you to know that our department is doing everything we can to investigate this thoroughly. Now that we know your whereabouts, the matter is less urgent. Even if it turns out the fire was deliberately set, the possibility of manslaughter is ruled out. But that doesn’t mean we will let it drop. We’re working closely with the fire department and will keep you informed of any new developments.”