Margaret's Quest

by Chapman, Muncy;

  “I–I really like blue and green both. But, uh, pink is a very popular color this year. Perhaps you should think about using pink.”

  “Yes. Oh, yes,” Lucy agreed. “Pink would be a lovely choice!”

  The sisters looked at each other with raised eyebrows, smiled, and nodded, and Margaret and Lucy heaved simultaneous sighs of relief.

  Margaret hurried through her meal, and as soon as she could gracefully do so, she excused herself, anxious to return to her work.

  Her room was a shambles! Lavender silk was stacked in six piles on her bed, and threads and ravels littered the floor. The remains of her once-beautiful gown lay in a pitiful heap in the corner. Margaret tried not to look at the mound of shredded lavender silk, turning her chair so that it faced toward the window.

  With needle and thread, she began to stitch the first bonnet and was delighted as she watched it begin to take shape beneath her hands. She had never made a bonnet before, but she found the task quite pleasurable, and by the time the afternoon light began to fade, she had completed the basic framework of three bonnets. All that was left for her to do now was the trimming.

  Tomorrow she would walk to the village and see what Bowden’s General Store had to offer in the way of laces and ribbons. And she could clip the bows and satin rosettes from what was left of her dissected lavender gown, and hem some strips of the fabric to use for ruffles. She felt the exciting challenge of giving each bonnet an individual look entirely different from the others. In her mind’s eye, she could see them already, so pretty that she might want to keep one for herself!

  Much later, as she lay in bed thinking about her bonnets and the coins she was accumulating, she felt the sense of satisfaction that comes with overcoming a seemingly immovable obstacle. Just a few weeks ago, she could see no possible way out of her troubles, and now things seemed to be falling into place.

  Mikal had told her that with God, all things were possible. He had asked her to turn all of her problems over to God, assuring her that He would show her the way. But she hadn’t really turned things over to God, had she? Just because she had offered a few prayers didn’t mean that she had put God in control of her life. Mikal Lee had told her that he would be praying for her, too. Could God possibly have a hand in her recent achievements?

  God, if you’re listening, I’m still not sure I’m ready to give up being in control of my own affairs, but if You’re in any way responsible for helping me get on with my life, then I just want to thank You!

  Night shadows danced across her bedroom wall, and Margaret imagined that they were hands held out to welcome her. As sleep claimed her body, she drifted on a dream out to meet them.

  six

  Margaret was elbow deep in green taffeta when a knock sounded on her bedroom door.

  “Miss Porter?”

  Margaret did not welcome the interruption. It was difficult to stop in the middle of measuring a brim for an exact fit to the bonnet she had just cut out. She could not afford to make mistakes with her dwindling supply of fabric. “Just a moment, please,” she mumbled, trying not to release the pins she had caught between her lips. She recognized the voice of Isabelle, the Spanish maid who helped Miss Priscilla in the dining room. Whatever could she want with her at this time of the morning?

  She put her pins in the little dish on the chest of drawers and laid her scissors beside them. Opening her door just a crack, she peeped out. “Yes, Izzy, what is it?”

  “A gentleman to see you, miss. He is in the parlor waiting to see you.”

  “For me? Are you sure? Who is he?” Perhaps one of the officers from Fort Brooke wanted a new bonnet to surprise his wife. Margaret was having a hard time keeping up with the increasing demand.

  “He did not say his name, but he is the same man that brought you here.”

  “The—who? Oh, my!” Margaret closed the door, and then remembering her manners, opened it again and called after the retreating maid, “Thank you, Izzy. Tell the gentleman I’ll be right down!”

  Margaret ran a brush over her hair and pinched her cheeks to bring out their color. She fluffed out her skirts and smoothed them and hurried down the stairs to see if Mikal Lee had really returned!

  He stood when she entered the parlor, and she was so glad to see him that she almost rushed across the room to embrace him. Coming to her senses, she remembered her manners; and she also remembered that she had heard nothing from him for over six weeks. She matched his smile and held her hands outstretched. “Mikal! I am so glad to see you again. It’s been a very long time. I was not sure that you even still re-membered me.”

  He gripped her small hands in his big, rough ones and gazed into her face. The earnest look in his dark blue eyes made it impossible for her to doubt his sincerity when he said, “Margaret, there has not been a day since I left here that I haven’t thought of you. I would have been back much sooner, but we ran into a terrible storm in the Gulf of Mexico. Fortunately, God was with us and we did not lose any men, but the Windsong suffered major damage. We had to put in at St. Marks for repairs before we could come the rest of the way. But enough of my troubles. How are you? I’ve been very concerned about you.”

  The nearness of him almost took her breath away, but she tried to mask her excitement. “Concerned? Whatever for, Mikal? I am perfectly well, thank you.”

  “Then are you ready to go back to Savannah with me when we sail out of here tomorrow?”

  “Tomorrow?” Just when she felt so happy to see him again, she found that he was leaving. “I–I thought you would stay a few days as you did before.”

  “We’re already two weeks behind schedule in delivering our load of cotton to the New York mills. We can’t afford any more delays. I know it isn’t much notice, Margaret, but I brought a carriage, and I’ll help you get ready to leave.”

  “Leave? Oh, no, Mikal, I’m not leaving. I’m staying here. I’ve been—oh, there is so much to tell you. I don’t know where to begin. And I want to ask a big favor of you, too. Why don’t you dismiss the carriage and go for a walk with me? I promise not to keep you long, but we do need to talk.”

  “Indeed we do,” Mikal agreed. He went outside to talk to the driver, and Margaret went upstairs to fetch her bonnet and reticule.

  Because the morning sun was almost halfway across the sky, she decided to take along her yellow silk parasol. She left her partially finished bonnets on the bed, locked her door, and hurried down the stairs.

  “Izzy, I may not return in time for dinner. Could you save a little snack for me in case I’m late getting back?”

  The little maid smiled and winked. “I will do better than that. If you will wait just a few minutes, I will pack your dinner in a sack, and I’ll put in a little extra in case you decide to share it with your gentleman friend.”

  When Mikal returned, Izzy handed him a croker sack. “This is for when you and the señorita get hungry,” she said. Her black eyes twinkled, and a smile spread across her caramel-colored face. “Now, you take good care of Miss Porter, you hear?”

  “Indeed I shall try,” Mikal promised. “Thank you very much.”

  Margaret, holding her parasol in one hand and her reticule in the other, led the way down the porch steps. She opened the parasol and held it at an angle that at once shielded her face from the sun but allowed Mikal to see her face.

  This time they walked in the opposite direction of the village, where the road was bordered by palmettos, thorny bushes, and a sprinkling of wildflowers. The air was fresh and clean, and the cloudless sky promised a morning without rain.

  “Mikal,” she began, “there are reasons why I cannot return to Savannah just yet, but I need your help.”

  “I’ll do whatever I can to help you, Margaret. You should know that by now.”

  “Yes. Well, I guess I do, and I deeply appreciate all that you have done for me already. I don’t know what I would have done without your help. And I don’t want to keep imposing on your friendship. I’ll try to make this the l
ast favor I’ll ask of you, but it’s a big one.”

  “I should be very disappointed if it’s the last, but let’s hear it. What is it you need?”

  “I’ve written a letter to my father in Savannah. The mail in and out of here is so undependable that I thought perhaps you might deliver it for me on your way north.”

  “Of course. That isn’t such a big favor. I’ll be glad to see that he gets it.”

  “But there’s more,” she continued. “I’ll be expecting a reply. If you could wait while he gets the. . .um. . .that is, while he writes something to send back to me, it would be much safer than trusting it to the mail.”

  “Of course. I can do that.” They walked along in silence for a few minutes while Mikal gave the matter some thought. Suddenly he took her arm and drew her to a stop on the side of the road. “Margaret, if it’s money that you need, I can help you. You can go back on the Windsong today and make payment for your passage later. I’ll speak to my partner, and I’m sure he’ll agree to the arrangement. I don’t like to leave you down here in the territory alone. It’s much too dangerous for a lady.”

  Margaret bristled. “I’m not as helpless as you may think, Mikal. In fact, I–I’ve become involved in a little business here, and I don’t feel I should leave just now.”

  Mikal scowled. What kind of business could Margaret be involved in? He knew that there were crooks and charlatans who sold everything from useless swampland to worthless inventions. Anything to make unsuspecting investors part with their gold. He did not know how much money Margaret had brought from Savannah, but her clothing gave evidence that she came from a wealthy family.

  He could not force her to return home. Perhaps the next best thing, then, would be to contact her father as she requested. He would warn her father of the dangers Margaret faced and urge him to bring her back home.

  “If you won’t come with me, then I will do as you ask, Margaret. Give me the letter and tell me how to reach your father, and I will bring you his reply as soon as I come this way again.”

  Margaret felt a warm sense of security in Mikal’s presence. She hated the thought of his leaving again. “How long before you return?” she asked, trying not to let her voice betray how much she really cared.

  “That depends on a lot of things. Weather, economy, the number of people booking passage, and their needs, to mention a few.”

  They came to a grassy clearing alongside the road, shaded by massive, spreading oaks. Moss hung from the branches like filmy gray curtains and swayed in the gentle breeze. “Would you like to stop for a little snack?” Margaret suggested.

  Mikal jumped at the chance. “A great idea! I’ll have to admit that I’ve walked up an appetite.”

  Margaret spread her full skirts across the prickly grass and sandy earth, and Mikal sprawled on the ground beside her. His gaze revealed what his words did not—that he was not nearly so interested in the food as he was in his lovely companion.

  Margaret munched on a pimento cheese sandwich, spread on thick slices of Miss Priscilla’s own sourdough bread, and let her thoughts wander.

  She was aware of a growing magnetism between herself and Mikal Lee that she must somehow find a way to resist. She had almost made a foolish mistake once before by letting her heart rule over her head. But she was older and wiser now. Even in the short span of a few weeks, she felt that she had matured well beyond her twenty years. Mikal was a sailor. He was a kind man who probably had a list of men and women all up and down both coasts whom he cared about and tried to help. She must be careful not to attach too much importance to their growing friendship.

  Mikal was silently engrossed in his own thoughts. He shifted his weight and propped his chin in his hand to get a clearer view of her face. Margaret Porter was unlike any wo-man he had ever met before. She looked so vulnerable sitting there in the grass, her long, dark hair blown carelessly about her face. And she seemed to possess an inner beauty that was equal to her nearly flawless physical beauty. It would be so easy to fall in love with her, but there were so many reasons why that would be all wrong.

  First and foremost, Margaret was not yet an avowed Chris-tian. If he ever did marry, Mikal knew that he would choose a woman who was willing to work beside him to establish a Christian home for their family, and Margaret Porter did not fit that description.

  But then, there was little likelihood that she could ever love him anyway. She was in mourning for the soldier she had loved and lost. Some women never recovered from a shock like that, and he was not willing to compete with the ghost of Allen Fairchild.

  This was all just as well, he thought, because he had already decided long ago that he would probably never marry anyone at all. His life was with the sea, and a sailor’s life was not compatible with marriage and a family. He knew that well enough, having only vague recollections of his own father. A wife and children deserved more than a part-time husband and father.

  Margaret had already begun to pick up the scraps left from their snack. “I promised not to keep you long,” she said. “I know you must get back to your ship, and I don’t want to de-tain you.”

  The walk back to the boardinghouse seemed all too short. Their silence gave evidence that each was absorbed with sober thoughts. When they reached the boardinghouse steps, Mikal said, “I’ll wait here while you get your letter. But Margaret, I’m going to ask a favor of you in return.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “Go get your letter. I’ll tell you about it when you return.”

  Margaret scurried up the steps to her room. She pulled her father’s letter from her dresser drawer and held it close to her heart. Please, God, let this letter reach my father, and let him send me word of his forgiveness. Carrying the letter in her hand, she locked her bedroom door and started back down the stairs. What kind of favor would Mikal ask in return? If he wanted money, she had a nice little cache, and she did not think it unreasonable that he might ask for compensation. After all, her request was going to cause him some little inconvenience, and he deserved to be compensated.

  She met him on the porch and handed him the letter. “The directions to my father’s house are written on the outside, Mikal. I don’t think you’ll have any problem finding it, and he will gladly pay you for the delivery.”

  Mikal took the slightly scented pink letter from her hand and tucked it into his jacket pocket. Then, reaching into his inside pocket, he pulled out a small black book. “Now it’s my turn,” he said. “I have a favor to ask of you.”

  Margaret was already opening her little reticule, pushing her fingers inside to extract a few of her gold and silver coins. “Yes, of course—”

  “I want you to promise me that you’ll read some of this each day,” he said, pressing the book into her hands. “This is the New Testament. I’d like for you to read a portion of it each day. Read as much of it as you can before I return, so that we can talk about it together.”

  “A Bible? That’s the favor you’re asking of me?”

  “Yes. Will you promise to read it while I’m gone?”

  Margaret slipped the strings of her reticule over her wrist to free both of her hands. She held the book and opened the leather binding to the first page. Written in black ink, carefully penned words danced across the page. To Margaret from Mikal, May 1836. Beneath his name, he had written: Commit thy way unto the Lord; trust also in him; and he shall bring it to pass. Psalm 37:5.

  Margaret pressed the book to her heart. “Thank you, Mikal. You’re such a good, kind man. I promise to read a bit of this every day. But, Mikal, that’s all I can promise. Just. . .just don’t expect too much from me.” In the broad light of day, with all the world looking on, she leaned forward and kissed him lightly on the cheek before she turned and ran back into the house.

  seven

  On the evening of Mikal’s departure, Margaret felt a tremendous letdown, and that letdown feeling disturbed her greatly. How could she miss so terribly someone she had barely come to know? Remembe
ring that she had recently been pledged to another man, Margaret decided that she must be a very fickle person. And as such, she did not deserve anyone as fine as Mikal Lee. Her self-esteem plummeted to an all-time low.

  In the privacy of her room, Margaret lowered her window shades and readied herself for bed. Outside, a light rain brought darkness earlier than usual and made gentle taps against her windowpane. She poured water into her washbowl and sponged the dust from her body before slipping into her chemise and falling onto her bed. In the distance, she could hear steamboat whistles and thought again of Mikal, who was doubtless bouncing over the high seas by now.

  Only then did she remember her promise to him. Mikal had asked her to read each day from the New Testament he had given her. Margaret appreciated his thoughtfulness, and she fully intended to keep her promise, but tonight she was very tired. She would begin her readings tomorrow.

  Lying quietly in the darkness, her conscience held sleep at bay. She had made a bargain with Mikal, and she was certain he would keep his part of it. The least she could do in return was to keep hers.

  She dragged herself from the comfort of her bed and fumbled in the dark for her candle. By the flickering glow of a single flame, she opened her new book to the first chapter and began to read.

  All those begats were surely not very interesting. She yawned and rubbed her eyes. But then she came to the verses that told about the birth of Jesus. These words were not exactly new to her, but she had pushed them into the inner recesses of her mind for so long that they had almost been forgotten. The farther she read, the more interested she became. Only when her candle began to sputter in its own melted wax did Margaret realize that she had read six exciting chapters and yearned to read on. Tomorrow she would ask Miss Priscilla for a new candle, and if she refused, she would buy one for herself at Bowden’s General Store.