by BJ Hoff
“You’ll see, Maggie. It will be the best gift ever! You’ll take care of it, won’t you? You’ll take care of things just like you always do…”
When she saw how important it was to her friend, Maggie had pretended to be convinced and agreed to do everything Summer suggested. Including the part about praying.
“I can’t do anything about the rest of it except to pray, Maggie. And you have to pray too. Promise you will…promise you’ll pray…that’s the most important part of all…”
Maggie had promised. And she had prayed. At first. But not lately.
How could she have forgotten something so important—so important to Summer?
Angry with herself and impatient to use the little time left, she scrambled to her feet, startling the dog and gasping at the cramps that shot down her legs from sitting in the same place so long.
She could still do this. She would do it.
She started to leave the room but then stopped, squeezing her eyes shut.
Help me do this. Please. Help me do it for Summer. And for Mr. Stuart. And please, somehow let Summer know I’m doing it. Let her know I’m keeping my promise, that I’m taking care of everything, just the way she asked. The way she trusted me to do. Summer believes in her idea, in this special gift for Mr. Stuart. And…she believes in me. Most of all, she believes in You.
Help me to believe that way—Summer’s way. Help me to believe…without a doubt.
Twenty-Two
Secret Threats
Alas! It is a fearful thing
To feel another’s guilt!
Oscar Wilde
For two days Jonathan Stuart kept a close watch on Kenny Tallman and Maggie MacAuley.
He saw nothing out of the ordinary from the boy, except that at times he obviously still favored his left arm—and the nasty black eye was by now a palette of different colors. As for Maggie, she seemed unusually quiet and occasionally secretive.
Jonathan didn’t miss the frequent glances she darted at Kenny throughout the day. There was nothing strange about that, except that he seemed to be making a concentrated effort to avoid looking back at her.
Jonathan might have assumed there had been an argument, had Maggie’s eyes held even a hint of anger or resentment. Instead, her expression appeared to be more a look of concern or else a vague, distracted stare. And, more unsettling still, Jonathan thought he also detected a glint of fear lurking when her attention was on Kenny.
One thing was obvious: Both of them seemed to have their attention focused anywhere but on their schoolwork.
Although Kenny had always seemed a solemn youth, exhibiting signs of melancholy rare in one so young, his studies had never suffered. Not until now. As for Maggie, she typically sailed through her lessons with time to spare and a willingness to help the younger children who struggled with their work. Lately, however, she sometimes came to class unprepared and then scrambled throughout the day to catch up.
What was going on with those two?
By Tuesday Jonathan was almost certain that whatever was responsible for Kenny Tallman’s black eye and apparent physical discomfort—and for Maggie’s peculiar behavior—might be more serious than he had initially suspected.
He was also beginning to wonder if Billy Macken and Orrin Gaffney might not somehow be involved. He hadn’t missed the sly looks, the whispers, and the snickering that frequently passed between the two troublemakers when either Maggie or Kenny happened to walk by their desks. When he called them to order, they obeyed with sly smiles, only to repeat their behavior again later.
That afternoon, he happened to catch the Macken boy watching Maggie from across the room. The girl was bent over little Ira Turner’s desk, helping him clean up a glue spill. Something in Billy Macken’s expression set off a clutch of uneasiness in Jonathan. He had seen that kind of look before, but never in the eyes of one so young.
He reminded himself that the Macken boy was fourteen years old, and given his size and jaded attitude, far from being a child.
After that, Jonathan had trouble concentrating. Indeed, it seemed that every time he looked at the Macken boy, the tightness in his chest and the ache at the base of his skull intensified.
Maggie was eating her lunch at her desk, trying not to mind the loud whispers behind her.
Mr. Stuart gave them leave to talk during their lunch hour if they kept their voices down. But Billy Macken and Orrin Gaffney weren’t even trying to be quiet. It was clear they didn’t care that someone might overhear their nastiness; instead, they seemed to flaunt their hatefulness and off-color talk as if they dared anyone to try to stop them.
These days just seeing the two together made Maggie’s stomach knot. She couldn’t help but wonder if they were plotting more meanness against Kenny and, if so, what they might try next.
If only he would tell someone. Or let her tell. What she wouldn’t give to confide in Mr. Stuart. She just knew he would handle it somehow, that he’d know what to do.
But Kenny insisted there was nothing the teacher could do. “Look at him, for goodness’ sake, Maggie! It’s all he can manage just to make it through the day! What do you think he’s going to do with two bullies like Billy and Orrin? They’re not the least bit afraid of him. And why should they be?”
Always, he came back to the same thing. “I told you. I can’t let my father find out about this. He’ll only make things worse. Not because he’d be worried for me,” he said bitterly, “but because no one can go against Judson Tallman or anything that belongs to him without bringing bad trouble down on themselves.”
Maggie couldn’t help but wonder if Kenny’s father was as coldhearted as Kenny believed him to be. On the other hand, her father plainly disliked Mr. Tallman, and Da wasn’t quick to take a dislike to someone without good reason.
Still, they obviously weren’t helping matters by keeping silent. If anything, the situation was getting worse.
She tried not to think about what might happen to Kenny if Orrin and Billy jumped him again. They seemed to be getting meaner and rougher with each attack. She kept an eye on him as best she could, but she couldn’t very well follow him around all the time—especially after school.
Certainly not if Kenny had his say.
If only Billy would quit school. Maybe Orrin by himself wouldn’t be such a devil. But everyone knew that Billy’s mother had made it her business to keep him in school in order to keep him out of the mines.
More the pity.
As for Orrin, no one seemed to know why he’d stayed in school, whether it was by his own choice or that of his parents. According to Maggie’s sisters, he had told some of the older students that he’d be quitting at the end of this term.
Maggie, for one, would not miss him.
Without warning, something came flying over her head. It was a partly eaten apple, and it hit Lily Woodbridge on the shoulder. Lily yelped and jumped out of her seat. A loud explosion of laughter sounded from Billy Macken, with an echoing roar from Orrin.
Maggie looked at Mr. Stuart. He had been leafing through some papers at his desk but was now standing, his hands braced on top of his desk as if to steady himself.
“Mr. Macken,” he said, sounding exasperated entirely. “Come up here, please.”
It seemed a long time before Billy scuffled out from behind his desk and sauntered toward the front of the room. Maggie shot a glance at Kenny, who sat across the aisle from her, one seat back. He looked at her and rolled his eyes.
Maggie couldn’t hear what the teacher was saying to Billy, but she watched as he used his pointer to direct him to the empty desk right across from his own. She held her breath when Billy didn’t move right away, but instead merely stood there, red-faced and scowling. He was nearly as tall as Mr. Stuart and a big hulk of a boy, whereas the teacher was slender-built and of late appeared even thinner than ever.
In that instant, Maggie sensed that Billy was deliberately baiting the teacher, meaning to insult him. Mr. Stuart didn’t so much a
s blink, though, and after a moment, Billy sat down. But not without first turning and shooting an impudent grin at Orrin.
She jumped when Mr. Stuart cracked his pointer on top of Billy’s new desk, leaned over, and spoke, this time loudly enough for the entire class to hear and in a voice harder and colder than Maggie had ever heard him use before. “One more word out of you today, Mr. Macken—one more incident—and I will be at your house tonight to speak with your father about the possibility of a suspension. Do you understand me?”
Billy’s face flamed. He gave a sullen nod, folded his arms across his chest, and sat staring directly at Mr. Stuart without saying a word.
The room had gone so quiet that even Maggie’s breathing sounded loud to her.
She felt as though something else had now been added to her growing heap of worries. For whether Mr. Stuart knew it or not, he had just been added to Billy Macken’s hate list. And although it wasn’t the normal way of things—a student threatening a teacher—that’s exactly what had just happened.
It was a silent threat, but a threat all the same.
That being the case, she reckoned that from now on she’d have more to worry about where Mr. Stuart was concerned than his failing health.
As if that in itself wasn’t enough.
Jonathan was straightening up the clutter from the day, at the same time keeping an eye on the two boys he’d delayed after school. He had set Billy Macken to cleaning the chalkboard while Orrin Gaffney swept the floor. Now that they’d finished, he looked around for something else that needed to be done, reasoning that they might just as well be at something useful for a change instead of causing trouble.
“The coal bin needs to be filled, boys. If each of you will make a couple of trips with a bucket, that should do it.”
The Macken boy shot him a resentful glare, but they both grabbed a bucket from behind the stove. As Jonathan watched, they hurried out the door, leaving it open behind them for a raw December wind to blow inside.
With a sigh, he started down the aisle. He had his hand on the door, ready to close it, only to have his curiosity sparked by the sound of Maggie MacAuley’s name, followed by a spurt of laughter.
His normal aversion to eavesdropping didn’t stop him from cracking the door slightly and listening.
“Yeah. Makes you wonder if one of them told old man Stuart anything.” This from Orrin. “He sure don’t have much use for us anymore.”
“Nah. Neither one of them’s going to talk. They’re too scared. And when did Stuart ever have any use for us?”
“I don’t know, Billy. That Maggie can be a real wildcat sometimes. She don’t seem scared of much of anything, if you ask me.”
“Except me.” More laughter, though Orrin’s sounded somewhat tentative.
“You sure Tallman won’t tell his old man?”
“Are you kidding? You heard what I told him we’d do to his smart-alecky girlfriend if he blabbed! You think he’s goin’ to take a chance on her getting hurt? Or getting himself beat up again? He knows if it’s not him, then it’s gonna be her.”
Silence for a moment. Then, “’Course, at some point she’s goin’ to get what’s coming to her anyway. And I plan to enjoy it.”
“What’re you going to do, Billy?”
“I figure you and me can have some real fun after the Christmas Exchange.”
“We’re gonna go to that? I thought you said it was just for the little squirts.”
“No, we’re not goin’ to it! But Tallman and the girl will go. When do they ever miss out on a chance to toady up to old Stuart?”
“Yeah, but if we’re not going—”
“Think, dumbhead! We’re goin’ to meet up with them after the exchange. On their way home. Say, down near the tipple? They won’t have any idea we’re around since we won’t be at the schoolhouse. This way we can work on both of them for a change.”
“Oh.”
“Yeah. Oh!”
There was more snickering, and then words spoken too low for Jonathan to hear. But he’d heard enough. Enough to be so alarmed—and so furious—that he had all he could do not to rush outside and throttle the both of them.
As if he could.
With a shaky hand, he closed the door and went back to his desk. When the boys returned, he pretended to be occupied with grading papers and gave no indication of their presence. After they completed their second trip and the bin was full, he issued them a curt dismissal.
For a long time, Jonathan sat staring at the top of his desk without really seeing it. It was sickeningly obvious what was going on. Those two were routinely harassing the Tallman boy, even beating on him, while threatening that if he told anyone what they were up to, Maggie would also suffer.
It didn’t take much to figure out why Kenny had kept his silence. The boy was no coward, of that Jonathan was certain, but he wasn’t about to risk harm coming to Maggie.
And what about Maggie? Did she realize that Kenny was enduring their cruelty to protect her? That he was suffering so she wouldn’t?
Apparently no one—except himself, as of now—had any idea what these children were going through.
And what was he going to do about it?
What could he do?
He had never felt so humiliated, so helpless, as he did at this moment. That he was powerless against the brutality of two fourteen-year-old boys was a devastating admission, a huge blow to his pride, to his manhood. And yet there was no denying the truth of it.
How could he possibly stop this madness without making things worse for Kenny and Maggie?
Clearly, he couldn’t stand up to Billy and Orrin physically if they decided to defy him. And that they would defy him, Jonathan had no doubt.
What if he went to the Mackens and the Gaffneys? Would they control their sons?
More to the point, could they control them?
They might well take them out of school, and as much of a relief as that would be to Jonathan—though he felt ashamed to admit it—he would find it all but impossible to live with the thought that he was responsible for sending two fourteen-year-old boys into the coal mines. That was a hard enough life for grown men, but for mere boys?
Boys who were beating up other boys and planning unspeakable acts toward an unsuspecting girl.
What if he were to go to Matthew MacAuley? The man didn’t strike him as one who would tolerate any sort of treachery toward one of his children, not for a minute—and certainly not the kind of danger this situation could breed. No, he thought certain Maggie’s father would not hesitate to go after her tormentors himself.
But what would that mean to Maggie and Kenny?
And what about Judson Tallman? He couldn’t very well tell one parent without going to the other.
The thought numbed him. What would Tallman do? He had the power to fire the fathers of both boys from the mines, if he so chose. And as much as Jonathan feared what the ultimate outcome might be if Billy and Orrin weren’t stopped, did he really want to see their fathers lose their jobs?
In Skingle Creek, unemployed miners lost their homes, went hungry, ended up living in poverty. Was he willing to bring that kind of tragedy down on the heads of anyone, no matter what their sons had done?
On the other hand, would Judson Tallman take such drastic action? Did he even care enough to revenge his son?
Jonathan slumped over his desk, his head in his hands. Merciful Lord, what a mess this was! It seemed that no matter what he did, he might bring harm on another or even destroy lives in the process.
But knowing what he knew, he couldn’t simply ignore the situation and hope it would pass. It wouldn’t pass.
If ever a spirit of evil was at work, it was working here. He could not simply sit by and do nothing. Two children could be badly hurt and damaged in unimaginable ways.
He had to do something.
He looked down to find his hands trembling. His forehead was wreathed in clammy perspiration. His heart lagged, then raced, and he s
queezed his eyes shut for a moment to try to dispel a wave of lightheadedness.
He was pathetic. A straw man. A joke. He didn’t have the strength to turn a hand, couldn’t even help his own students. Mere children, and he was useless to them.
It was all he could do to make it home in his buggy at the end of a school day. And even that exhausted him.
But he must think of something. No one else was going to help Maggie and Kenny unless he helped them.
He propped his head on his hands again, doing his best to ignore the self-disgust slamming through him. This wasn’t the time for feeling sorry for himself. He had to think.
At the moment he could think of nothing except to pray for their protection. And he did that. But at the same time he sensed a mounting pressure building in him, an urgency suggesting that he himself was intended to be a part of that protection. So, in spite of the demoralizing awareness that he could be of little or no help in any sort of confrontation, he also sought the strength to at least try to be of some use, should a Divine plan be at work for the safekeeping…and rescue…of those two children.
Twenty-Three
Going On
Living and Dying,
Thou art near!
Oliver Wendell Holmes
Summer Rankin died ten days before Mr. Stuart’s birthday party. She never saw the birthday gift she had conceived for their teacher, nor the scarlet hair ribbon that Maggie meant to give her as a Christmas present.
Maggie visited her friend for the last time two days before she died. Mrs. Rankin, her eyes sunken and red-rimmed, had kindly allowed her to stop by in the evening, though she cautioned that Summer would more than likely sleep the entire time.
Only once did the younger girl rouse, and although she seemed to smile, Maggie wasn’t at all certain she recognized her. But she stayed a full hour, sitting on the side of the bed, holding Summer’s frail hand and talking to her just as if she were wide awake.