Maggie Meets Her Match

by McLeod, Dinah

  “Maggie, where do you keep your soap?”

  I looked toward the kitchen where Abby stood, her hands on her hips as she waited for me to answer. “Why?”

  “Because I’m going to clean your kitchen.”

  I stood to my feet and headed for the kitchen, but she blocked my way. “I’ll handle it.”

  “No, go sit down. I want to help you.”

  I searched her brown eyes and found nothing but earnest sincerity. I closed my eyes—her kindness was almost too much to bear. “Alright.” I hovered there, stuck between wanting to help as Abigail sorted through dirty dishes and wanting to tell them both to leave so that I could go back to bed.

  “I’m goin’ to start on your clothes in a minute, Maggie. Why don’t you take yourself a bath? I hear tell Clay has indoor plumbing?” Abby asked.

  I forced myself to be civil when I turned toward her, though what I wanted to say was that she could have a bath if she found it so fascinating. “It is indoor. However, I don’t quite like the idea right now, not when I have company.”

  “We don’t mind,” Abby called from the kitchen and I scowled at her back. Is this how it was to be? The two of them ganging up on me?

  “Well, fine,” I huffed. “Just run me out of my own house.”

  “We’re not runnin’ you off,” Libby replied, gentler than I’d expected. “I just thought you’d like a bath. I’ll do your hair after, if you want.”

  I didn’t want, but I could see plain I wouldn’t be given a choice. “Fine,” I grumbled, turning on my heel to leave.

  But when the water was drawn and I’d stepped in, I couldn’t help but enjoy it. I sank into the warmth, letting the water consume my small frame. I lay there for a minutes, enjoying feeling the grime wash away with the tears.

  Only when the water began to cool did I reach for the rag. I lathered it with soap and began to wash. I was paying careful attention to the back of my neck and behind my ears when there was a firm rap at the door.

  “Who is it?” I called.

  “It’s me.” The door creaked open a crack and Libby peered in. “I was comin’ to see if you need help.”

  “No, I do not need help, Libby,” I said, exasperated. “I’ve been bathin’ myself a long time.” As I said it, I remembered Clay climbing in behind me and caressing my body, leaving behind a trail of soap. The memory made me flush with heat.

  Libby let herself in and closed the door behind her, walking toward me with determined steps.

  “You don’t need to—”

  “Let me help you,” she replied, in a voice gentler than I’d ever imagined her capable of. “Abby’s got the baby, and I want to help you.”

  The odd thing was, I actually thought I might believe her. She certainly seemed sincere. I knew she wasn’t just referrin’ to my hair, but I was afraid that was as far as it would go on my end. I sat up and turned my back to her. Libby wasted no time in soaping up my hair, which she rinsed out with the tepid water.

  “Must be nice,” she remarked with longing.

  “You must have grown up with one,” I realized. “Do you miss it?”

  “Oh, we didn’t have indoor plumbing,” she sighed. “It was a constant struggle between Mama and Papa. She wanted it and he didn’t see why it was necessary.”

  “Hmmm.”

  “Oh, I know what you’re thinkin’. That my mama was just as spoiled as her daughter. I s’pose you’re right.”

  I turned around to see if she was mocking me. She was smiling, but she seemed to mean what she was saying.

  “I don’t blame you for thinkin’ of me the way you do, Maggie, but we’re family now. We should at least make an effort, for Wesley, for Mabel.”

  Biting down on my bottom lip, I surveyed her. She was just as pretty as she’d ever been, but for once, I didn’t feel spiteful about it. Her blue eyes were soft and pleading and I realized that I was tired of hating someone that, really, I didn’t even know. I didn’t have the energy anymore. “I’d like that.”

  She smiled, seeming relieved. It occurred to me that she probably thought I’d throw her kind words up in her face and I was doubly glad I hadn’t. “Let’s wash your hair one more time. Mama always used to tell me to do it twice.”

  “Is that why your hair is so soft?”

  “Oh, no, I reckon that’s the lack of sun,” she teased with a wink.

  When she was done, Libby left me in quiet to dry off and dress. When I’d gotten into my gown, I realized anew how tight my corset was. It left me wincing as I walked to the parlor.

  “Damnable contraption,” Libby said, guessing right away what my sour face was about.

  “Libby!” Abigail’s shocked gasp came all the way from the kitchen.

  I winked at her. “It’s true.”

  “Well, I never! Such language, you’d think we were in a saloon!”

  When Libby opened her mouth to reply, I shook my head. “Don’t,” I murmured. “You’re like to make her faint.”

  She giggled softly, her eyes shining with laughter.

  “What are you two goin’ on about?” she demanded.

  “Nothin’,” we replied in unison.

  I turned to Abby with a smile. “Nothin’ at all.”

  * * *

  The girls had only just left for home when Clay walked inside, whistling. I hadn’t heard it in so long that I found myself smiling before I quite realized what I was doing. Maybe I hadn’t heard it because I kept myself locked away from the outside world. Maybe it just didn’t penetrate through all the grief.

  When Clay walked around the corner and saw me sitting on the couch, dressed for a change, his eyes lit up.

  “Well, howdy, darlin’.”

  “How was your day?” I asked tersely, striving for something I didn’t quite feel. When had this all become so contrived? Would things ever feel normal again?

  “It went well, thank you. And you, Maggie? I can see you’ve been working hard here.”

  I winced at the undeserved praise. “Actually… Libby and Abby stopped by.”

  “Oh?”

  “Yes, ah, they cleaned the house, not me.”

  He nodded, taking it in stride. “Still, you’re sittin’ here waitin’ on me to come home. That’s somethin’.” He walked over to me and bent down to kiss me. “You smell nice.”

  I flushed when I remembered how insistent Libby had been about the bath. “Ah, thank you.”

  “Can I join you?” Without waiting for an answer, Clay sat beside me on the couch. “This is nice.”

  I gave him a small smile. “What is?”

  “Being with you. I’ve missed…” He trailed off and sidled closer.

  “Missed what?”

  “Aw, you know, Maggie. I’ve missed you, being like this.”

  I shook my head slowly. “No, I can’t say I do know. What are you meanin’ to say?”

  He rubbed a hand along his jaw. “I’ve been worried. I’ve been thinkin’ you meant to waste away on that bed in yonder.”

  “I’m sorry. I never meant to worry you. I just… I have all these… feelings and I just haven’t the faintest idea of what to do with ‘em.”

  “I understand.” He reached for my hand and gave it a squeeze. “We’re man and wife, Maggie. We made vows before God and everybody that we’d always be there for each other and I intend to hold up my end.”

  I had no doubt that he meant what he said. My brother had been right—Clayborn was a man of his word. “Yeah, I coulda done worse.”

  “What?” He looked startled, then slowly, a smile slid across his face. “I see you’re workin’ your way back into your sassy ways. Don’t go too fast, now, I wouldn’t want ya to hurt yourself.”

  “Oh, but it comes so naturally.”

  “I’ll show you what comes naturally,” he murmured.

  Before I could hardly blink, Clayborn had pulled me on his lap and was massaging my shoulders. “Mm, you feel so good, Mags. I’ve missed feelin’ you this way.”

 
I didn’t realize how much I’d missed it until I was in his embrace. I squirmed on his lap, turning to face him. He kept on kneading my shoulders but met my eyes. When I saw the desire that lay there, his yearning for me, I leaned toward his lips. He met me halfway and we kissed, a tentative, seeking kiss. I let him take control of the kiss and I could feel his hesitancy. I knew he wasn’t feeling sure of himself, and I thought it might be my fault.

  “Clay,” I murmured, pulling back. “You do want this, don’t you?”

  “I always want you, Maggie.”

  “You seem so…”

  “Just wonderin’ if I’m dreamin’. Now, come on and kiss me before I wake up.”

  When our lips met this time it was hard and insistent, our tongues moving together as though we’d done it a million times before. His hands tightened on my arms and I wilted in his, giving myself over to whatever he needed from me. As the kiss deepened, I could feel his hunger for me, his concern and his desire somehow intermingled, making him hold on to me like I might melt away.

  When he broke off the kiss, the look he gave me was penetrating and stern. “God, I’ve missed you, woman. This can’t happen again, Maggie, d’you hear? I know you’ve been hurt, been tryin’ to make sense of it, but you never had to do it all by your lonesome. You come to me, alright? That’s what I’m here for.”

  I nodded in the face of his gruff rebuke. “I will. But Clay, I can’t promise you it’s all over. There might still come a day when it’s hard.”

  “I expect that, Maggie. You wouldn’t be human if you didn’t feel that way, darlin’. But you can’t shut yourself away from me anymore. I won’t allow it, y’hear? So I’m tellin’ you this now, because I don’t want to have to spank you over this, you understand?”

  Clay never failed to amaze me. He’d treated me with nothing but unconditional love and unending kindness since my ordeal had begun, and here he was, doing it again. “Yes, sir.”

  “That’s my good girl.” He bent his head and brushed his lips against mine.

  This time, I was the one who pulled back first.

  “Eveythin’ alright?”

  “Maybe you should,” I said in a near-whisper.

  “Beg pardon?”

  “Maybe you should… you know. Spank me.”

  His brow furrowed as he gazed at me skeptically. “Now, why would you want me to do that?”

  “Because I deserve it.”

  “Maggie, you’ve been goin’ through a hard time, is all. You’re a good girl.”

  “Yes, but… I don’t like this distance between us.” I put my hand to his chest, feeling his heart. “I don’t want that for us or our marriage. I don’t want you to let me…”

  “I think I understand, darlin’. Alright, I’m willin’ to spank ya, but I have to let ya know, it’s goin’ to be a real chastisement.”

  “Yes, sir,” I whispered, wide-eyed now that it was about to take place. I stood up and began to turn away when I felt myself being pulled back down.

  “And just where do you think you’re going?” he growled.

  “To the bedroom. I thought—”

  “I can spank my wife wherever I please, can’t I?” he demanded.

  “Yes, sir.”

  “Good. Now, over you go.” In a quick movement, Clay pulled me over his knees and lifted my petticoats.

  I tried to get settled over his lap and waited for the first slap to come burning down.

  “I want you to know that I’m not just doin’ this ‘cuz you asked me to.” Smack. “I’m doin’ it because I love you.” Smack.

  I braced myself over his lap, squeezing my bottom cheeks together as though I could somehow hide it from his mighty palm. He stopped talking and instead got to business, quickly making me sorry I’d ever suggested he punish me. The swats fell slowly, but each one landed with a loud crack followed immediately by searing pain. I wouldn’t know how I could have endured it, if I hadn’t been dealing with a pain that was so much worse.

  The truth of it was, I deserved this punishment. I’d had no right to push him away when he’d done nothing but stick by me.

  When the next lick fell, a whimper escaped my tightened lips, followed by a long groan as the pain set in. I felt like I’d sat on a stove and I was sure if I could reach back to touch, my fingers would end up burnt from the heat in my bottom.

  Smack. The next one was harder than all the rest and I kicked my foot in the air in protest.

  “No more of that,” Clay ordered. “Be still and take your hidin’.”

  My bottom felt like it was on fire and his slow, hard wallops kept it burning. Each one made me jerk forward, until finally I dissolved into sobs. It came over me so quickly, it took me by surprise. Surprised or no, once it started, I lay limply over his lap, bawlin’ as his hand punished my sore cheeks.

  Just when I thought he was done—he rested his hand on my back for a moment, rubbing gentle circles—the attack began again, this time focused on my much more sensitive thighs. I bucked and howled in protest, but Clay had no trouble at all in keeping me down and applying quick, hard licks that left me determined not to ever earn another punishment.

  When he let me up, I wanted to run for the bedroom to feel sorry for myself away from his watchful eyes, but he grabbed my hand. “We’ve spent too much time apart as it is, Maggie. That ends now.” He pushed me to sitting on his hard knee, despite the fact that I winced when my poor bottom made contact.

  I leaned into his chest, burying my face as I cried. Clay didn’t seem to mind. He patted my back and shushed me like one might do with a child.

  When I’d settled down, he hooked his finger under my chin and tilted it up until I was looking him dead in the eye. “I don’t care one whit if you ever have a child, Maggie. I want you to be happy, ‘course I do, and while I’d love a child, you’re the best thing that’s ever happened to me. I will never regret marryin’, child or no.”

  “Really?” I whimpered.

  He brushed his lips over mine, firmly, possessively. “Now what’d I just say?”

  I sank back against him, letting out a mingled sigh of release and relief. “Yes, sir.”

  * * *

  It took a lot of effort, but every day that week I got up with the sun and made Clay breakfast. I even made an effort to tackle the breakfast dishes, but no sooner than he left, I’d find my way to the bed again. I didn’t sleep as much as I had before he’d spanked me—I just lay there, letting the warm sheets envelop me as I tried not to think on the only thing I cared to think on.

  I thought about when I would have given birth, if we hadn’t lost the baby. Sometime around summer, I reckoned. Maybe just when it started to cool off. I thought about whether it would have been a girl, like Mabel, or a boy. Clay would do well to have a son, I couldn’t help thinking. A little boy with his brown eyes and handsome features…

  The musings led to nothing but trouble, but I couldn’t help having them just the same. Just when I couldn’t bear my own company another minute, Libby and Abby dropped by. This time, I was relieved to see them and greeted them both with a kiss, even Mabel, though I still declined to hold her.

  “She’s lookin’ sweeter all the time,” I told Libby truthfully, who glowed, as I supposed a mother was wont to do.

  Abigail let me in the kitchen this time, and shoulder to shoulder we took on the mound of dishes, her washing and me drying as Libby filled me in on all the goings-on in town.

  “Sounds like a big to-do for nothin’,” I commented when she told me that the preacher’s wife, Miz Harding, was fussin’ over the new schoolmarm.

  “Well, forgive me for bein’ the one to say it, but she’s got to make her own entertainment, seein’ as how she’s married to a man of God.”

  I dropped my washrag in my surprise, but this time I didn’t scold her. I began to laugh, and as soon as I’d started, she couldn’t seem to help but join in.

  “Really, you two! You ought to be ashamed!” Abigail declared, but I could see the smile hid
ing on the corners of her mouth, which made me laugh all the harder.

  We ate lunch together and continued our gossiping. By the time they had to leave, I was feeling much better and was sorry to see them go.

  “Next week this time?” I asked as I stood by the door.

  Abby turned to me and put her arms around me in a protective, sisterly hug. “‘Course. Wouldn’t miss it.”

  True to their word, they came knockin’ at the door the same time the following week. When I let them in, it was with immense pride that I noted their looks of astonishment. Abby especially seemed gob-smacked at the difference. For the past six days, knowing they’d be comin’, I’d swept and mopped the floors, dusted the furniture, and cleaned my kitchen. Why, I was even bathin’ regular now.

  “Sorry, Abby, no dishes for you to do today,” I told her, suppressing a giggle.

  Her eyes were bright when she met mine. “I ‘spose we could always make some.”

  “What’d you have in mind?”

  “Let’s make a picnic and go eat it by the lake.”

  Libby’s eyes brightened at the suggestion, too. “Mabel hasn’t been near the water yet. Reckon it might be warm enough to dip her toes in?” She tickled the object of discussion and even I couldn’t help but smile when the little girl cooed.

  “She’s sure gettin’ big,” I remarked.

  “Growing like a tumbleweed,” she declared proudly.

  “Might I hold her?”

  She looked surprised, but she handed her over even so. When the warm weight hit my arms, I immediately teared up. I looked down at her sweet face and saw her looking back at me. It was enough to make me melt. “Libby, I do believe her eyes are ‘bout to change color.”

  “The doctor said they might,” she agreed, looking down at her daughter.

  “Mabel’s such a pretty name.”

  “Why, thank you, Maggie.”

  “Maggie, whatever were you plannin’ on fixin’ your husband for supper?”

  I looked up to see Abby had been rifling through the kitchen. “Why, whatever’s handy, I suppose.”

  “That’s not gonna be much. When’s the last time you went into town?”