Margaret's Quest

by Chapman, Muncy;

  Mikal chewed on a blade of grass and wrinkled his brow. “Margaret, I really wish I could convince you to come away from this place right now, tonight! But I can understand your reluctance. I’ve heaped a lot on your plate already this week. But if you won’t go with me now, at least promise me you’ll give this idea some serious thought while I’m gone. I’ll be coming back here in a few weeks. I’ll stop by to see you on my way north to deliver the cotton bales to the textile mills in New York. It will likely be a couple of months before I come back through Tampa on my way to Apalachicola again.”

  “I–I’ll think about it,” she promised. “Now we’d better eat our food and start back. I mustn’t keep you here when you have so much work to do.”

  Although the biscuits left over from breakfast were now cold, they were still high and light. Spread with Miss Priscilla’s homemade guava jam, Mikal declared that they were better than anything he had eaten on board the Windsong since leaving the last port.

  Margaret’s appetite had been practically nonexistent since she’d received the news of her father’s death, and this was the first food that had passed her lips since yesterday noon, when she had eaten a few bites of Izzy’s chicken noodle soup. But as she began to nibble at one of the sweetened biscuits, she found herself enjoying it.

  “Must you go, Mikal?” she asked, wiping her lips on one of the linen napkins Izzy had thought to include. She dreaded the long weeks that stretched ahead without his company. Then, embarrassed by her aggressive plea, she answered her own question. “Yes, of course, I know that you must!”

  “Let me pray with you before I leave.”

  “I—I’m not sure that I want you to do that, Mikal. I don’t want to encourage you to expect more of me than I can deliver. I told you that I’ve come a long way, but I think you should know that I still hold a lot of hate in my heart.”

  “Hate is destructive, Margaret. It’s a heavy burden that only hurts the person who does the hating. Can’t you find it in your heart to forgive whoever it is that you hate so much?”

  “Indians!” She spit the word out like a mouthful of bitter medicine. “I hate them all! The Indians are evil people, and no, I can’t find it in my heart to forgive them for their barbaric actions.”

  “Wait, Margaret. You’ve got it all wrong! To say that all Indians are evil is like saying that all dogs bite. There are many Indians who are fine men, honorable and good. Then, of course, there are some bad ones, too, just as there are bad white men. But take a minute to look at it from their point of view. These people are being driven from their homeland. They’re trying to hold on to a land they believe to be their own. Killing is wrong, but it isn’t fair to hold a prejudice against an entire race because of the actions of a few.”

  “Mikal Lee, how can you sit here and defend them after what they’ve done? It isn’t just about Allen, you know. They massacred his entire company, and they’re still riding about, ravaging the countryside. If God is so good, then how can he allow things like this to happen?” Her voice rose to a frantic pitch.

  “Margaret, God isn’t running a puppet show! He doesn’t just pull all our strings to make us move. He allows us to make our own decisions. Sometimes we make bad ones, but at least we’re free to choose.” He reached for her hand, but she jerked it away from him. “I’m so sorry I’ve upset you,” he apologized. “Perhaps we should be starting back. My ship sets sail in a few hours.”

  Together they gathered up the scraps of their picnic and began their walk along the trail back to the boardinghouse. This time the silence that lay between them was filled with a million unspoken words.

  nine

  In the weeks following Mikal’s last visit, Margaret had plenty of time to contemplate her choices for the future, and none of them gave her much joy.

  The one thing of which she was certain was that she could never return to face her friends in Savannah. That would be humiliating as well as heartbreaking. Besides, there was nothing left for her there. Mikal had brought her the upsetting news that her father’s creditors had seized all of his property and would likely expect her to make up the shortfall if she were to return. But her little stash of coins would not even begin to cover Cedric Porter’s monumental debts. No, Margaret could not return to Savannah.

  Her home now consisted of one small room in Miss Priscilla’s Boardinghouse. As sparse as it might seem, it was now the one familiar spot in her world, and she was reluctant to give that up to move to a town with a name she could not even pronounce, let alone spell!

  Yet Mikal’s words kept echoing in her ears, and the longer she listened to them, the more sensible they became. Her bonnet business was almost at a standstill. What would she do when her present supply of money ran out? What did other decent women do to survive in the Florida Territory? She let her thoughts run over the list of women she knew.

  Miss Priscilla, of course, ran her own thriving boardinghouse. Margaret had been told that Miss Priscilla had been born and reared in this house; her parents had come into the territory as pioneers. Margaret had no such legacy to fall back on.

  She was not sure how the Rosada sisters derived the money for their keep, but they seemed to live very frugally. Miss Charity had told her once that their papa had been one of the early missionaries to the territory, but of course Hope had disputed that statement, saying that he was a farmer who used his spare time to preach the Gospel to the Indians and the white settlers. Whatever their background, the sisters had never divulged their source of income.

  Lucy White received a small widow’s pension from the army, but she planned to marry again as soon as she passed through her respectable period of mourning. Margaret certainly wasn’t going to follow that path. So what other options did she have?

  Mikal had predicted that her bonnet business would flourish in that coastal town with the strange name. It would take a great deal of courage to pull up her tenuous roots and move to a place she had never seen, but Margaret had done it once before, and with God’s help, she would do it again. As soon as Mikal returned, she would tell him of her decision.

  ❧

  By August, Margaret’s reticule was almost empty. She still had two elegant gowns lying in the bottom of her trunk, along with her stiff, white crinolines. She was only too happy to forsake them in favor of her simple cotton frocks and muslin petticoats in the tropical heat of summer. She had even made herself a couple of muslin sunbonnets, saving her finer ones for what she hoped would be more prosperous days ahead.

  Margaret had used her skill with a needle to make two new dresses and a pinafore apron for Miss Priscilla, thus earning two weeks of room and board, and Lucy had commissioned her to sew a blue gingham dress to end her period of mourning. Lucy would have preferred a more elegant fabric choice, but Bowden’s supply was limited to the simple demands of their customers.

  Every time Margaret heard the blast of a whistle from the docks, she hoped that it would signal the return of the Wind-song, but it was mid-August before she saw Mikal again.

  She had just washed her long, dark hair beneath the backyard pump, using a square cut from a block of Miss Priscilla’s homemade lye soap. After she rinsed away the last traces of lather, she poured a mixture of vinegar and water through her hair, and then held her head beneath the stream of water while Izzie worked the handle of the old iron pump.

  “Thank you, Izzie.” She took the towel that Izzie held for her and sat on the kitchen steps to dry her hair in the sunshine.

  “Good morning! Or is it afternoon already?”

  Margaret’s heart jumped at the sound of his voice. “Mikal!” Then her hands flew to her hair. “Oh, my! I must look a sight!”

  Mikal thought that she looked like an angel, but he knew better than to tell her that. He remembered how soft she had felt in his arms last time he had come to see her, but he knew that it was only her grief that had allowed him to hold her against his chest and run his hands over her beautiful hair. With all the restraint he could muster, h
e said, “You look fine, Margaret. I am very glad to see you again.”

  He could not pull his eyes away from her. In the few weeks since he had last seen her, she had changed. Her simple gingham gown fell softly about her ankles in direct contrast to the wide, stiff skirts she usually wore, and the mass of damp hair that surrounded her face stripped away all of her city-girl pretenses and let her natural beauty shine through.

  “I–I must run up to my room for a few minutes, but I’ll be right back down.” Before he could protest, she ran up the back steps, through the kitchen, and up the staircase to her room. How embarrassing to be caught in such disarray!

  She changed quickly into her freshly ironed calico gown and forced a brush through the tangled mass of her hair. Mikal is back! I mustn’t keep him waiting! I don’t want to waste a minute of the little time we have together!

  When she hurried down the stairs, he was waiting for her in the parlor, and she had to stifle her impulse to rush into his arms. She was so very happy to see him again! “You’ve been away for quite a long time.”

  “Too long. And I only have an hour.”

  Margaret’s joy plummeted. Only an hour! And there was so much she wanted to say to him!

  “The Windsong sails out again this afternoon. We’re fully loaded with cotton, so there’s no room for us to load anything else on the boat. We’ve only stopped long enough to take on two people who’ve booked passage to New York. As soon as we put their trunks on board, I’m afraid we have to pull anchor and sail. I’m detaining them as it is, but I had to see you to find out if you’ve made up your mind about moving.”

  “Yes, I have. It hasn’t been an easy decision, but I see the sense in the plan you’ve outlined to me. I’ll be ready when you come this way again.”

  Joy spread across his face like the rising of the morning sun. He reached out for her—he just could not help himself. Wrapping her in his arms, he half-expected her to protest, but when she yielded to his embrace, he whirled her around and lifted her off her feet.

  “I’ve been so worried you wouldn’t go,” he said. “I’ll be back for you as soon as we can unload our cotton and turn the Windsong around. Oh, Margaret, you’ve made me so happy!”

  Margaret’s cheeks were flushed and her head was reeling. She pushed away from him and tried to collect her thoughts. “What is the name of this town where I’m going?”

  “Apalachicola! That’s an Indian name that means ‘Land Beyond.’ ” Seeing her flinch at the mention of Indians, he hastened to add, “It’s a real progressive city. They have fancy dress balls and socials, and there’s even an opera house. You’ll likely have a thriving market for your fancy bonnets.”

  At the mention of her bonnets, Margaret’s eyes opened wide in alarm. “Oh, but Mikal, I can’t—that is, I have no elegant fabrics and trims left to make more bonnets, and I don’t think the ladies in Apalachicola will want my calico sunbonnets.”

  Mikal thought for a few moments. “I think I can help you there, Margaret. If you can make up a list of the kinds and amounts of fabrics you need, I can buy them for you when I’m in New York. The trimmings, too. Just give me a list of everything you need, and I’ll bring them back with me when I return. You’ll be all ready to set up your new business when we get to Apalachicola.”

  “I don’t know, Mikal. It sounds like it is all going to cost a great deal of money—more money than I have.”

  “I’d be willing to help you get started.” When Mikal read her unspoken protest, he added before she had a chance to speak, “I’ve been looking for a wise investment for some of my funds, and this sounds like a good opportunity for me. Suppose we consider ourselves partners in this new business. When the profits start rolling in, we’ll share them.”

  “Oh, it’s all so frightening to me. Do you really think it will work?”

  “I know it will,” Mikal said. He pulled a scrap of paper and a stub of a pencil from his pocket. “We’d better get started on your list because it’s almost time for me to go.”

  He jotted down the items as Margaret reeled them off. “I don’t know what half this stuff is, but I suppose I can find someone in New York to help me.”

  “There’s nothing there that’s out of the ordinary, Mikal. Any person familiar with fabrics should be able to fill the order.”

  “Then that’s about it, I guess, unless you can think of anything else you might need.”

  Margaret shook her head. “That should be enough to keep me busy for a while, and if you need to make substitutions on any of it, feel free to do so. I’ll just work with whatever you’re able to bring me.”

  Mikal looked up at the sun and frowned. “It’s getting late. As much as I hate to, I really must get back to the ship. Will you walk partway with me?”

  As they strolled down the street side by side, Mikal took hold of her hand and was encouraged when she did not pull out of his grasp. In fact, he felt her fingers tighten around his.

  “This is far enough,” he told her. “I don’t want you walking along the waterfront alone. Would you like me to get a carriage to take you home?”

  “No, I’d rather walk,” she said. Her eyes stung with unshed tears, and she fought to keep them back. She could hardly bear to see him leave again. “How long will it be before you return?”

  “If we’re blessed with good weather, I might make it back in four weeks. You can be sure that I’ll come as quickly as I possibly can.”

  He turned to look down into her eyes and the sight of her took his breath away. Dark hair blew capriciously about her face in the late summer breeze, and the afternoon sun gave it an iridescent glow. Slipping his hands around her waist, he drew her to him and kissed her lightly on the lips. She did not pull away from him, but instead slipped her arms around his neck and entangled her fingers in his silky hair. “Oh, Mikal!”

  She almost lost her balance when he pulled back from her, abruptly, as though the whole idea had been a terrible mistake, and without another word, he was gone.

  Puzzled by his strange behavior, Margaret watched his re-treating silhouette until she could see him no more. Would she ever understand that man? When he was completely beyond her sight, she turned and retraced her steps back to the boardinghouse she now called home.

  ten

  As Mikal’s absence stretched into lonely weeks, Margaret had plenty of time to think about their strange relationship. She knew that for her he had become much more than a good friend, and her feelings for him ran much deeper than she had ever intended. And now, if things worked out as they planned, he was to become her business partner.

  In her saner moments, Margaret knew that for Mikal, she was just one more girl on his long list of friends. Hadn’t he told her himself of his many friends in Apalachicola? And no doubt, with his kind and generous nature and his gregarious personality, he had developed friendships all up and down both coasts.

  She wanted to quell this senseless racing of her pulse every time he came near. Just thinking about him gave her a tingly feeling that she could not seem to repress. This wasn’t love, of course. She had fooled herself once into thinking that she was in love with Allen Fairchild, when all she had really felt for him was an immature infatuation with his stunning good looks and his impressive military uniform. But during recent months, she had felt herself change from that silly girl into a mature woman. She was determined to keep a clear head and not let her heart run rampant again with foolish notions about love.

  She should never have allowed that kiss beneath the oak tree. It had robbed her of her good sense and left her shaken. By now Mikal probably thought of her as an easy conquest. She had heard of women who were free with their kisses and even more, but she was certainly not one of them. She must make sure that Mikal understood that next time they met.

  Four long weeks had passed, and still Margaret had heard nothing from Mikal Lee. Perhaps he had begun to have second thoughts about his rash offer to subsidize her new business venture.

  Margaret wa
s now beyond the point of turning back. She had finally sold her precious pearls for only a fraction of their worth—a mere pittance—but at least they gave her a little money to carry her through this move. She had already packed her few belongings in her trunk, and she had said her good-byes to her boardinghouse friends. She had even learned to spell Apalachicola!

  The Rosada sisters had cried that evening when, sitting around the supper table, she had told them all she was leaving. “You’re like one of the family,” Miss Charity declared, dabbing at her eyes. “You’re just like our little sister Faith, who died of malaria when she was just sixteen years old. Don’t you think so, Sister?”

  “She’s not a bit like Faith,” Miss Hope insisted, wiping the moisture from her own eyes. “Faith had lighter hair. Margaret is more like Mama’s sister, Hannah.”

  “Well, no matter who you’re like, I think you’re making a big mistake, Margaret,” Lucy White told her. “There are tons of men right here in the Tampa area and not nearly enough women to go around. Why, with your good looks, you could probably have your pick of the lot!”

  Margaret blushed a deep scarlet. “It’s not marriage I’m looking for, Lucy. I plan to set up a business for myself.”

  “If I may venture my humble opinion,” Patrick said, “Mrs. White is quite right. Starting a new business is a man’s work. I believe you would be much happier settling down with a good husband, keeping his house and raising his children without worrying your head over matters that are best left to menfolk.”

  Charles, sensing Margaret’s growing anger, wisely resisted offering his own opinion, which did not differ greatly from Patrick’s.

  “Well, if you’re all through offering your expert advice, can we go ahead and eat our supper before it gets cold? You’ve al-most taken away my appetite,” Margaret snapped.

  Miss Priscilla pursed her lips and refrained from comment as she passed a bowl of hominy, followed by a square porcelain tureen of smothered chicken.