Margaret's Quest

by Chapman, Muncy;

  Amy screamed, “Alex! My baby!”

  Margaret, with fire in her eyes, started toward Harry. “Don’t you dare lay a hand on that child!” But before she could make her way across the room to where he stood, Mikal whipped around and grabbed Harry by the lapels of his brass-buttoned waistcoat. “You big bully!” He balled his right hand into a fist and swung, catching Harry just below the chin. Harry reeled and fell. Mikal stood back and waited for him to stand up again, but when he did, Margaret jumped right in the middle between the two angry men. “Stop it! Both of you! What is the meaning of this?”

  Amy had retrieved her son from the street and was washing the tear-streaked dirt from his face.

  Harry used his handkerchief to wipe blood from his chin. “Margaret, I was trying to eject that thieving little urchin from your store when this—” he glared at Mikal, “this ruffian from the waterfront—”

  Mikal drew back to swing again, but Margaret stood her ground to prevent it. “Harry, that little boy you referred to as a thieving urchin is the son of a very dear friend of mine. He does odd jobs for me, and I think you owe him an apology.”

  “Now, look here, Margaret. If I made a mistake, I’m sorry. I was only trying to help you.”

  “She doesn’t need the help of a riverboat gambler, Robards, so why don’t you just take your fancy cane and get out of here.”

  “We’ll let my fiancée decide about that,” Harry said. “Go ahead and tell them, my dear.”

  Mikal looked as though someone had just punched him in the stomach. His face paled as his shoulders slumped, and he looked to Margaret for an explanation. “Yes,” he said. “By all means. Tell me.”

  Margaret looked at Amy and Alex and at the two women customers cowering in the back corner of her shop. Then she looked from Mikal to Harry, letting her eyes linger on Harry for a long time. At last she spoke. “There is nothing to tell. Nothing at all. I am no one’s fiancée, and I want both of you men out of my store at once, do you hear? You are frightening my customers and my help, and I will not stand for it. If you want to fight like gutter trash, then go outside and do it in the streets, but not in my shop.”

  She used all of the strength her one hundred ten pounds could muster and gave the two big men a hearty shove toward the door.

  “I’m so sorry, ladies,” she apologized to her customers. “What can I show you today?”

  “I–I’m afraid we’ll have to come back another day,” one of the ladies said, fluttering her hands nervously. “We–we really must be going.” The two women hurried toward the door, furtively looking in each direction as though they ex-pected a momentary attack. “Well, I never!” Margaret heard one of them say as they pushed through the doorway to the sidewalk. She wondered if they would ever return.

  “Amy,” Margaret said, trying to still the quaver in her voice, “why don’t you take the rest of the day off. Take Alex home and get him cleaned up. We aren’t likely to be so busy that I can’t handle things here for the rest of the day.”

  “I hate to leave you alone,” Amy protested, but she began to gather up her things as she spoke. “Are you sure you don’t want me to come back in after dinner?”

  “No, Amy, you deserve a day off after all you’ve been through this morning. I used to handle this shop alone every day until you came along, and I’m sure I can manage for one afternoon.”

  As Alex and his mother moved toward the door, Margaret laid a hand on Amy’s arm. “Do you remember that you invited me to come to Sunday service at your church?”

  “Of course I remember. So will you come, Margaret? Oh, please say you will.”

  “I think I’d like that, Amy. I’ve been wrestling with some important decisions about my life, and I think it’s high time I put them into action.”

  Amy gave her friend a quick hug. She turned to leave, but not before Margaret saw the glistening of a tear in her eye.

  twenty

  Late in the afternoon, Margaret was bent over her worktable cutting a bonnet from a piece of emerald moiré taffeta that Mikal had brought from New York. The shop seemed lonely without Amy, and Margaret hummed to break the silence.

  She stood to stretch, placing her palms on her lower back. Perhaps she would close early this evening. This had been such a trying day!

  Looking toward the street, she was surprised to see the now familiar carriage of Harry Robards pulling to a stop outside her door for the second time that day. She turned and busied herself arranging the hats and bonnets on her shelf so that she would not have to face him until he spoke. She heard the bell on the door jingle, but still she did not look up.

  “Good afternoon, Margaret.” Harry waited for her reply, and when none was forthcoming, he continued. “I stopped for two reasons. First, I wanted to say again how sorry I was that our. . .um. . .conversation this morning was so rudely interrupted by that unfortunate. . .um. . .experience. I’m sure that by now you’ve had time to think the matter through and realize that I was only trying to act in your best interest.”

  She whipped around and glared at him in astonishment, her eyes blazing sparks of fire. “My best interest? By abusing an innocent child?”

  “My dear, you are so young and naïve, which just proves my point that you need someone who can take care of you. In time you will learn not to underestimate these children of the streets. They know how to use their juvenile charm as a cover-up for their mischief.” He held up both palms to stifle her protest. “Oh, I know they can be quite winsome and cunning, but—”

  She cut him off before he could continue. “What was the second thing you came to say, Harry?”

  “I want to tell you that I am leaving tomorrow on an ex-tended business trip.”

  “To pursue your gambling career?” Her words dripped icicles.

  He was momentarily astonished, but he quickly regained his composure. “Yes, Margaret, I’m a gambler; a very successful one, I might add. I’ve never denied that. Do you find that idea so distasteful?”

  “Distasteful? I find it reprehensible that you prey on those less fortunate to support your flamboyant lifestyle.” She thought of her own father and the downfall gambling had brought him to.

  “That is a very narrow viewpoint, my dear. I do not force others into the games of chance, and if I am rewarded for my skill and knowledge, then that is my good fortune.”

  “I won’t argue the point, Harry. Is that the last thing you came to tell me?”

  “As I started to tell you before we got sidetracked, I am leaving Apalachicola on Monday morning. I am taking a steamboat to the beautiful city of New Orleans. I had hoped that you would go with me and that this might be our wedding trip. But I told you once before that Harry Robards does not beg. This is either to be our wedding trip or this is good-bye, Margaret.”

  He hooked his thumbs into the pockets of his waistcoat and waited for her answer. The confident expression on his face told Margaret that he had little doubt as to what her decision would be.

  Margaret looked beyond the shop window and saw the elegant carriage waiting outside. She shifted her gaze to Harry, tall and debonair in his fancy clothes. She closed her eyes and saw her life as it could be—filled with dazzling parties and stylish clothes, servants, trips, and all the extravagances that money could buy.

  The silence in the room was as thick as a winter fog, so that Margaret could hear the beats of her own racing heart.

  She opened her eyes and looked squarely into Harry’s confident face. She drew a deep breath before she whispered, “Good-bye, Harry.”

  His jaw dropped in disbelief before his dark eyes pierced hers with a menacing glare. “You,” he said, pointing his finger in her face, “are making a grave mistake.” His sinister tone made Margaret’s flesh crawl as she watched him turn and stalk out of her shop.

  ❧

  Margaret sat beside Amy and Alex near the front of the small church, barely able to contain her excitement. This was the day she was going to make a public declaration of her fait
h and give her heart to the Lord. She had thought and prayed long and hard about her decision.

  When the congregation stood to sing the hymn “Amazing Grace,” Amy grasped Margaret’s hand and gave it a gentle squeeze. “I once was lost but now am found, was blind but now I see.”

  The minister read from his big pulpit Bible, from the thirteenth chapter of Acts. “Be it known unto you therefore, men and brethren, that through this man is preached unto you the forgiveness of sins: And by him all that believe are justified from all things.”

  The words were familiar to Margaret because she had read them over and over again from the black leather testament Mikal had given to her. She understood at last what Mikal had wanted her to know all along, that Jesus had already paid the price for her sins and that He loved her just as she was and had a place prepared for her in God’s kingdom.

  She listened as the minister’s words washed over her like a warm summer shower, healing, comforting, refreshing. And when at last he issued an invitation from the pulpit, Margaret made her way down the aisle as tears washed her cheeks.

  Amy and Alex stood beside her as she made her profession of faith before the congregation. Margaret thought her heart would burst with happiness. Her only regret was that Mikal was not here to share in the wonder and greatness of this moment.

  ❧

  Much later, snuggled beneath her patchwork quilt, Margaret reread the passage from Acts by the dim light of her candle. Wonder of wonders, she was now a true child of God, and nothing in this world could ever separate her from His love.

  twenty-one

  Margaret awoke at first light with a song in her heart. “Amaz-ing grace, how sweet the sound that saved a wretch like me!” The very air she breathed seemed somehow different, cleaner, fresher! She was a new creation! She could hardly wait to see Mikal and share her joy.

  Mikal! Saturday she had tossed him out like a bad apple, and tomorrow was the day he was due to set sail for New York. Surely he would come by to see her before he left town. Or maybe he wouldn’t, after the harsh words she had flung at him. She couldn’t bear the thought of his leaving without resolving their disagreement of the day before.

  Of course, Mikal had been wrong to resort to violence to settle the dispute with Harry Robards, but his motives were so valorous that she could hardly point a finger of blame.

  Poor little Alex! He must have been terrified when Harry grabbed him like that without any warning. She would give him a small little treat when he came to do his chores this morning.

  She stirred a pan of oatmeal over the one burner of her iron stove and tossed in a handful of raisins to make it special. Knowing this to be one of Alex’s favorite foods, she planned to pour a generous scoop of molasses over the top and insist that he eat a nice, warm bowl of it before he went to school.

  Margaret slipped into the new calico dress that Amy had made for her and ran a brush over her hair. Oh, she did so hope that Mikal would come into the shop this morning!

  She could hear Alex banging on the front door and hurried down the stairs to let him in. “My, but you’re early today!”

  “Yes’m. I didn’t get everything done,” he explained, lowering his eyes sheepishly, “so I thought I’d come early and do some extra today.”

  Margaret wanted to hug him, but she knew that to do so would only embarrass him all the more. “I’m so fortunate to have such a dependable worker,” she said. “By the way, Alex, when you go upstairs, there’s a pan of oatmeal on the stove for you. I put lots of raisins in it, and I poured molasses over the top. Stop and have a bowl of it before you begin your chores.”

  His face brightened with a wide smile. “Yes’m, I’d like that. Thank you, Miss Margaret.”

  She watched him scamper up the staircase before she turned to her worktable. Mrs. Raney hadn’t come in on Saturday, but she would be coming in this morning for her new bonnet, and Margaret still needed to sew the ties on it. In the chaos, she’d forgotten about it. Then she’d become so busy she hadn’t had time to do it. Margaret pushed a silver thimble onto the middle finger of her right hand and chose a needle from her pin cushion.

  When she heard the front door open, she called without looking up, “Come in, Amy. You’re early this morning, too.”

  But the footsteps were too heavy for those of her assistant. Her first thought was that it might be Mikal Lee, and she jumped up with a smile on her face. But when she saw the tall, dark Harry Robards towering over her, her breath caught in her throat. “Harry! What are you doing here this morning? I thought you were leaving town today.”

  “I am.” He leered at her. “And you, my dear, are going to New Orleans with me.” He reached down and grasped her arm. “Come along, now. Our carriage is waiting.”

  “I’m not going anywhere with you!” She tried to jerk away from his grip, but he twisted her arm behind her and pulled up on it until she cried out in pain. “Stop, Harry! You’re hurt-ing me!”

  Harry gave a low, guttural chuckle and pushed her toward the door ahead of him. “I’m not hurting you; you’re hurting yourself by your foolish resistance. Come along now like a good girl, and everything will be just fine.”

  Outside, he lifted her up and fairly threw her into his carriage. “Please,” she called, trying to attract the attention of the driver, but he turned a deaf ear to his passengers and began to move through the streets of Apalachicola toward the waterfront.

  “Are you out of your mind, Harry Robards? You may be strong enough to overpower me, but you cannot force me to marry you.”

  Harry guffawed. “Marriage, my dear, is no longer one of your options.”

  “Then what. . . ?”

  “You had your chance for marriage with all the trimmings that would have turned you into a fine lady, but you chose to decline my offer. I did not look kindly on your rejection, so from here on out, the choices are all mine.”

  Margaret’s stomach tied itself in knots. If only there had been someone in the shop to witness her abduction and send for help, but now she had no one to call on. Or did she?

  Dear Lord, she prayed silently, I don’t know what to do! I don’t see any way out of this trouble, so I’m turning the whole thing over to you. Please help me! She was not alone; Jesus had promised to be with her to the end. A gentle warmth spread through her being as she sensed her Savior’s presence. She did not know what was in store for her in the hours and days ahead, but whatever happened, she knew that she would never be alone again.

  Feeling her muscles relax within his grip, Harry eyed her suspiciously.

  “Harry, where are you taking me?” The hysteria was gone from her voice now, and she spoke to him calmly. “Can’t you see that what you’re doing is wrong?”

  The sinister smirk never left his face. “I’ve already told you where we’re going. Have you forgotten already? New Orleans is a wonderful city, filled with gaiety and excitement. It’s a pity you declined to go there as my wife. The alternative will not be nearly so pretty.”

  Margaret understood his implications, and the horror of them threatened to relieve her stomach of the breakfast she had enjoyed earlier. She considered her options. The carriage was moving so swiftly that there was no chance that she could jump out, even if Harry loosened his grip. If she screamed, who would hear her? And even if someone did, the chances were strong that she and Harry would appear to be only having a lovers’ quarrel.

  They were approaching the waterfront now, and Margaret could see the big paddle wheeler waiting at the dock. Perhaps if she appeared to be cooperating with Harry, he would let down his guard and a chance for escape would present itself as they boarded the steamer.

  “Oh, my!” she exclaimed, struggling to keep her words at an even pitch. “Just look at that! I’ve never been on a paddle wheeler before.”

  Harry eyed her curiously, but he said nothing. When they drew up to the dock, he jumped to the ground and lifted Margaret out to stand beside him, keeping a firm grasp on her arm.

  Marg
aret looked from right to left, searching for a familiar face or even a kind and sympathetic one, but everyone she saw seemed to be rushing about, preoccupied with the eminent departure of the River Queen.

  She forced herself to smile up at Harry, but all her coquettish charms failed to loosen his grip on her arm. Twisting her arm behind her back, he shoved her ahead of him toward the loading ramp.

  Soon she would be on board the ship, churning out into the Gulf of Mexico, and her chance for escape would be gone. It’s now or never, she thought.

  As Harry presented two tickets to the steward and pushed her forward, she screamed, “Help me! Someone please help me! This man is taking me against my. . .”

  “Now, darling,” Harry said, smiling at her as he gave her arm another painful thrust, “you mustn’t be afraid.” Turning to the astonished steward, he explained, “My little bride has a sudden case of wedding-day nerves, but I suppose you’re used to that with honeymooners.”

  The steward chuckled and gave Harry a conspiratorial wink. “Congratulations, sir. Enjoy your trip.”

  Margaret stumbled aboard the deck and looked back to see if someone—anyone—had heard her plea and might be coming to help her, but the laughs and whispers proved that Harry had turned the whole dreadful scenario into a cruel and sadistic joke.

  He pushed her ahead of him into an outside stateroom and closed the door behind them. “I trust you will be comfortable, my dear.”

  Margaret was too frightened to appreciate the ornate furnishings of the cabin or the huge bowl of fresh fruit on the table. “What you are doing is criminal, Harry. What do you want of me?”

  “Don’t look so upset, my dear. I am not such a bad fellow after you get to know me, and you will get to know me, Margaret. That was quite a little show you put on outside. Just to make certain you don’t try anything like that again, I’ll be bringing all your meals into our cabin, and you won’t have such an opportunity again.”