Margaret's Quest

by Chapman, Muncy;

“That sounds exciting, John,” Mikal said. “Of course, I hope you never have to use it on me, but if you should. . .”

  “Enough about me,” John interrupted. “Tell me what you two have accomplished since I last saw you.”

  Margaret drained the last drops of coffee from the tiny cup and placed it on the tray. “John, I want you to come by and see for yourself. Mikal brought me the most gorgeous fabrics from New York that I have ever seen!” Her face glowed with animation. “And the trims! There are ribbons and laces and flowers, and he even brought feathers. I’m going to have the most stunning hats and bonnets you’ve ever laid your eyes on! I do hope you’ll stop in to see.”

  “I shall,” John promised. “Mikal has already asked me to keep an eye on you while he’s away, to make sure that you have everything you need. If you think of anything else that you need, just send a message to my address, and I’ll see that you’re taken care of properly.”

  “He really means that, Margaret. Don’t feel reluctant to call on him,” Mikal assured her.

  “Thank you. You’re both so very kind to me.”

  John cleared his throat. “Well, if everyone is finished with the coffee, let’s move upstairs where you can see my new cooling machine. I’ll turn it on for you and show you how it works.”

  ❧

  Margaret did not go to the docks to see the paddle wheeler that would carry Mikal and his cargo out to St. George Island to board the Windsong. She had come to depend on Mikal, but more than that, she was forced to admit that she had grown to love him. She told herself that if she kept busy enough, hard work would keep her from missing Mikal while he was away, but it did not work out that way. At night she dreamed of him, and by day he invaded her thoughts no matter what she was doing.

  Mikal had never spoken to her of love. She realized that he thought of her only as a good friend, and as such, he went out of his way to help her, just as he did with his other friends. That was just part of his nature. Even the one kiss he had placed on her lips had not been a lover’s kiss. Margaret was certain that he would never offer her real love, because Mikal was in love with the sea.

  For the first few days, she was able to work with few interruptions, because word of her shop had not yet spread about the town. This was just as well, she thought, because it gave her enough of a head start to finish a few hats and bonnets for the shelves and have something to show her customers when they began to arrive.

  Her first customers were two very stylish young matrons who introduced themselves as Harriet Raney and Mary Elizabeth Messina. They were both looking for hats in specific colors to wear when the opera house opened next week.

  “Not red and not pink. Something about the color of a raspberry,” Mrs. Raney specified. “Can you show me something like that?”

  “I don’t have anything like that today, ma’am, but if you can give me a day or two, I think I can come up with just what you want.”

  “Well, I want something, too,” her friend said. “Mine must be green—a dark, emerald green with a pale green lining. Don’t you think that would be pretty?”

  “I made one like that for a lady in Fort Brooke a short while ago,” Margaret told her. “I added a little sprig of violets just over the right ear, and she was very happy with the effect.”

  “Oh, yes,” Mrs. Messina said, clasping her hands together in delight. “I hadn’t thought of violets, but that would be grand.”

  “Well, what are you going to put on mine to make it special, too?” Harriet Raney asked, obviously anxious to keep pace with her friend.

  Margaret gave the matter some thought before she answered. “How about a pleated band of black velvet across the crown and black velvet ribbon ties. I saw one similar to that in one of Godey’s fashion plates.”

  “Yes, yes! How soon could you have mine ready?”

  “I can have them both done by the end of the week,” Mar-garet promised. She would have to work late by candlelight in order to finish them in time, but these were her first customers, and she wanted to make sure they were well satisfied. Whatever their reactions, they were sure to tell their friends.

  They agreed on a price, and the two ladies left the store with smiles on their faces. Margaret was pleased, too! Her first sale!

  She was bent over a box, getting the fabric and notions she would need for her first two orders when she heard the front door open and footsteps approach her counter. She straightened up and turned to see her next customer and was surprised to see that it was not a lady as she had expected, but a gentleman.

  Margaret caught her breath! He looked as though he had just stepped off one of the fashion plates in her newest copy of Lady’s Book. Instead of being dressed in the usual clothes of the working class, he wore a blue velvet waistcoat over a shirt that was frilled not only down the front but over his wrists. He carried a gold-tipped cane, and he removed his tall black hat as he walked toward her. “Good morning, madam,” he said, sweeping a low bow.

  He was very tall, and his neatly trimmed mustache matched the color of his sleek, black hair. His handsome and stylish appearance was startling, but Margaret saw something in his eyes that made her slightly uneasy. “May I help you, sir?”

  “I was just roaming through the neighborhood and thought I would drop in to welcome you to our town. Are you finding our local hospitality acceptable?” He continued to smile, but his expression seemed to reflect a private joke he was not yet ready to share with her. His dark, piercing eyes perused the store.

  “Why yes, I—everyone has been very nice to me, thank you. I don’t suppose I could interest you in a bonnet.” She was trying to subtly indicate that he had probably stumbled into her shop by mistake.

  “Well, now, you just might. Let me see what you have.”

  His smile, which was very akin to a smirk, warned Margaret that he was not a serious customer, yet she could not offend him by turning him away. “Most of my hats are custom-made, sir. If you would give me some idea of the lady who might be wearing the hat, perhaps I could possibly make some suggestions. May I inquire your name?”

  “Of course.” He held out his hand. “I’m Harry Robards. And you. . .?”

  Harry Robards! The man to whom John refused to lease this store! What had John said about his questionable business enterprises? Margaret swallowed the lump that felt like an egg in her throat, and without offering her hand, she stammered, “I–I’m Mar—uh, Miss Porter, the proprietress.”

  Harry dropped his hand to his side. “I’m pleased to make your acquaintance, Mar-uh-Miss Porter,” he mimicked, and Margaret felt the blood rush to her face. “Well, I can see that I have disturbed your work, so I will leave now, but I’ll be back another day. You can count on it, Miss Porter.” Harry turned on his heels and walked toward the door. With his hand on the knob, he turned back. “Perhaps one evening you would do me the honor of dining with me.”

  Without waiting for her reply, he turned and walked out the door.

  fourteen

  By her third week in her new home, news of Margaret’s millinery shop had spread like wildfire, and she was having trouble keeping up with the demand. With Christmas just around the corner, it seemed that every lady in Apalachicola wanted a new hat to wear during the holidays. Now she was only taking orders that could be filled in January, and she even had several commitments for Easter. If things kept up at this rate, she would soon have to hire help with the cutting and basting, saving only the finishing for her own skilled fingers.

  Fortunately, she had secured the daily services of a local ten-year-old schoolboy. Alex came by early each morning to fill her wood box and water buckets. After school, he stopped by again to empty her slops and run errands about town. He was happy for the few coins she gave him, and relief from these simple tasks allowed Margaret more hours to devote to her millinery work.

  John Gorrie had dropped in once to see her store, and he was extremely complimentary of what she had accomplished. Then he extended an invitation. “I attend Sund
ay services at the church on the corner near my house,” he told her. “If you would care to join me, I will send a carriage for you.”

  Margaret worked hard in her shop all week, with little time to think of outside activities. Even the leather Testament that Mikal had given her was beginning to gather dust on the shelf in her upstairs room. Although she appreciated the doctor’s kind gesture, she had no intention of giving up her one free day to sit through church services. “Thank you, John, but I–I already have plans.”

  When Sunday dawned bright and clear, Margaret’s only plans were to sleep late and spend leisurely hours looking through her fashion magazines. But as sunlight streamed through her bedroom windows, she realized that she had hardly set foot out of doors all week.

  One of her customers had mentioned a grove of walnuts near the creek that ran behind her house. How nice it would be to have a basket of nuts to roast for the holidays, especially if Mikal is back in town!

  The simple cotton dresses she had scorned when she first arrived in Tampa were now the most practical and comfortable clothes in her wardrobe. If she should have a slow-down of business, she would like to stitch another calico frock or two for her daily use.

  Today she chose the brown gingham, and noticed that the bottom of the hem was beginning to fray. Perhaps she could stitch a bias binding around the bottom to extend its life. She covered her dress with her muslin pinafore apron and chose a wide-brimmed calico bonnet to shield her face from the sun.

  Margaret felt lighthearted as she walked out the door. This was the first time since her arrival in Apalachicola that she had decided to forget about work and do something simply for fun. With a basket over her arm, she set off in the direction of the creek.

  When she reached the edge of the creek, she turned north according to the directions she had been given and walked alongside the stream that would eventually empty into the Apalachicola River. She walked for almost a mile, but still she had not seen the first sign of a walnut tree. She hadn’t realized it would be so far. As she walked along the creek bank, palmettos pricked at her ankles, and the surrounding woods grew dense and dark, but still there were no walnut trees. If she did not find them soon, she would be forced to turn back. But not because she was afraid. After all, there was no way she could become lost as long as she followed the stream, and it was really quite pleasant out here alone with only the birds to keep her company.

  She heard sounds of rushing water, and she observed that the creek had now grown wider and deeper with whirlpools and falls. As she continued on, Margaret moved away from the edge to make sure she did not slip into the water that seemed to grow more turbulent by the minute. And then she saw the walnut trees just ahead.

  The trees were much too tall for Margaret to reach up into their branches, but there were plenty of nuts scattered all over the ground. She scooped them up with her free hand and soon had her basket almost full. What fun! She could still hear the rushing water that would lead her home as soon as her basket was filled. What a wonderful decision she had made to come here today!

  But her happiness turned to apprehension when she heard a noise through the trees. It sounded as though an animal was approaching. Likely, it was just a harmless fox. But to be on the safe side, Margaret took her basket and eased her way back toward the creek, careful to make no unnecessary noise. When she reached the creek, she turned back to make sure that the animal had not followed her, and her apprehension changed to sheer panic!

  Beneath the walnut trees, an Indian sat tall and erect on his large, white horse, holding his bow and arrow and looking straight at Margaret! Her heart pounded and cold perspiration broke out across her forehead. Her whole body began to tremble. What should she do? She could never outrun this red-skinned savage, but neither could she just stand here and wait for him to come and claim her scalp! She felt detached from the sound of her own piercing scream that filled the air before she broke out into a run along the creek bank. Just as she reached the point where she had seen the falls, her footing slipped and she catapulted down the bank and into the deep, roiling water. Her basket flew into the air and walnuts scattered around her like hail. Her scream continued until her mouth filled with water. She bobbed up once, choking and thrashing, and caught a glimpse of the Indian looking down at her from the steep bank. Which would be worse, to drown in the creek or be brutally murdered as Allen Fairchild had been? She did not have time to think about it before she fainted and sank again beneath the rushing water.

  Margaret had given herself over to the water when she became conscious of strong arms beneath her, lifting her from the water and carrying her up the steep embankment. She opened her eyes just long enough to glimpse the color of the arms that carried her—a coppery red—before she fainted again.

  ❧

  As Margaret slid back into consciousness and her world began to come into focus again, she remembered everything that had happened to her. She was afraid to fully open her eyes lest she should see a whole tribe of Indians surrounding her. The only sound that she could hear was the nearby rushing water. At last, she opened her eyes and scanned her surroundings and was amazed to discover that she was alone! Was that Indian watching from the shelter of the woods, just waiting for her to make a move? She tried to get up, but her limbs felt weak and useless. When she finally managed to pull herself to a sitting position, she found that someone had made a soft pile of leaves for her bed. A brightly woven blanket covered her wet clothes and shielded her body from the chilly December breeze. And to compound her confusion, her basket sat beside her, filled with walnuts—even more than she had gathered to start with.

  Dazed, she stood on shaky legs. She could make no sense from any of this, but she wanted to distance herself from this place as fast as she could. She folded the blanket and left it beneath the trees. Then, slipping her basket over her arm, she began the long walk home.

  By the time she reached her shop, the sun had dropped low in the sky. Her legs ached and her teeth chattered from cold. Wet clothes clung to her body, and her hair was plastered to her neck and face. Her hands were shaking so that she had trouble fumbling with the key, but finally she opened the door and made her way up the stairs.

  Placing the basket of walnuts on the table, she stripped off her clothes and left them in a wet heap on the floor. How she longed for a soak in a nice, warm tub, but the best she could do was a quick splash with cold water from her pitcher and washbowl. She donned her dry chemise and sank onto her thin, hard mattress. Later she would try to make sense of what had happened to her today. Right now, she just wanted to put it all out of her mind.

  She pulled a blanket around her shoulders, but still she could not quell the shaking of her body. A fire in her cookstove would be nice, but she lacked the energy to get up and start one.

  For the first time in her life, she had come face to face with a real Indian. She had not expected to live to tell about it. In her helpless condition, the man could have killed her or kidnapped her for terrible purposes, but instead he had saved her life. He had even gathered her spilled walnuts and tried to make her comfortable.

  What was it Mikal had told her? Something about not condemning a whole race because of the actions of a few. There are good Indians and bad, just as there are good and bad white men. She could almost hear Mikal’s voice repeating the words for which she had chastised him so severely.

  Oh, Mikal, I need you so! She had never felt so alone. Her eyes fell on the Testament gathering dust on the shelf beside her bed. For the first time in weeks, she lifted it and opened to Matthew. Running her finger down the page, she found a verse she remembered: “Lo, I am with you alway, even unto the end of the world.”

  In the fading light of day, the tension began to gradually seep from her body. She was not alone! Christ was with her and would always be, even unto the end of the world! As a sense of peace enveloped her, Margaret closed her eyes and slept.

  ❧

  Monday was such a busy day that Margaret did no
t have time to think about the strange events of the day before. She was bent over her cutting table, slicing her scissors into a piece of plush red velvet, when she heard someone enter her door. She laid down her work and turned to greet her customer. “Good morning. May I help you?”

  Oddly, instead of one of her familiar ladies, this client was a well-dressed gentleman. “How may I help you, sir?”

  “I would like to place an order for a lady’s bonnet. I believe that black velvet would be the best choice of material. It needs to be—well, this bonnet is for a very special lady, and it should be made of the very finest fabric in your stock.”

  Assuming that he wanted a special gift for his wife or sweetheart, Margaret nodded. “I understand. Let me show you some designs.” She reached for one of her magazines.

  “The lady wishes the bonnet to be conservative yet elegant,” he said.

  Margaret lifted her eyebrows. “Oh, then this is not to be a surprise?”

  “Oh, no. In fact, it is she who has heard of your excellent reputation, and she has decided that she would like to have one of your creations.”

  Margaret slid the magazine back into place. “If this is not to be a surprise, sir, then I’d like to suggest that you bring the lady in so that we can take measurements and be assured of a perfect fit. I can show her what materials I have and offer her some choices in the style.”

  “Quite impossible,” the gentleman stated emphatically. “Well, I may as well tell you,” he said, looking around the shop to make sure there was no one else who could overhear his words. He dropped his voice to a whisper. “The lady is the diva who is scheduled to appear at the opera house next month.”

  Margaret gasped. “And she wants me to make her a bonnet?”

  “Yes. So you see why bringing her here is not possible. She rarely goes out in public, where people besiege her for autographs. Why, some of them get so excited that they literally rip her garments to obtain a souvenir. I will leave it to your good judgment as to the style of the bonnet, and of course you will be generously compensated for your work. When can I expect to pick it up?”