by BJ Hoff
Maggie seemed to finally remember the glazed piece of chocolate cake on her plate and lifted a bite to her mouth.
“What do I think?” she finally said. “I think you are absolutely the most wonderful, generous, sweetest man in the world.” She took another bite of cake. “And quite possibly just a little mad.”
“Just a little?”
She laid her fork on the side of her plate. “Jonathan, you can’t do this. As much as I love you for even thinking of it, it’s out of the question.”
“I assure you it’s not.”
“But the expense. You can’t possibly—”
“Maggie, I thought we’d already settled that. I explained to you—”
“About your mother’s inheritance and your savings because bachelors don’t spend much money and interest accumulated from the bank. Yes, I heard all that. But you can’t possibly have that kind of money. And even if you did—”
“I do.” Jonathan reached into his coat pocket.
“What? What are you doing? What’s that?”
He slid the paper in front of her. “My—our—bank statement.”
“Your bank—”
She picked it up, looked at it, stared at it, and gasped.
She gaped at him in disbelief. “I married a rich man!”
Jonathan laughed out loud, drawing raised eyebrows from people across the room. “Hardly. I merely wanted you to see that I’m not going to bankrupt us with this idea. We’ll still have a savings account afterward. If that weren’t the case, I wouldn’t even consider such an idea.”
“But, Jonathan, this is your money, your savings. Why would you want to spend it in such a way? Why would you do this?”
He folded the statement and put it back into his pocket. “My reasons have much to do with my love for you and your family, Maggie. But even more, I want to do God’s will for all of us. While I don’t pretend to have an inside track to His wishes, I do believe that this much, at least, is from His hand. And for all I know, it’s the very reason I’ve been blessed with a bank account to begin with.”
He leaned forward, taking both her hands in his. Maggie glanced around, but for once she didn’t seem concerned about who might be watching.
“Is this real, Jonathan? I can’t believe it’s real.”
“It’s as real as what you and I are and what we have together.”
“Are you sure, Jonathan? Are you sure it’s the right thing? The thing you’re meant to do? That it’s what you want to do?”
“I think this will benefit us all, Maggie. And, yes, it’s something I genuinely believe I’m to do. But I won’t do it unless you want it too. We’re married, Maggie. This is our money, our future. I can’t undertake something like this without your blessing.”
“My blessing?” Her eyes gleamed as if sprinkled with sunlight. “Oh, Jonathan! If we weren’t in a public place, I’d be on your lap hugging you until you cried for mercy!”
His eyes went over her face. “Let me get the check.”
Chapter Twenty-four
Maggie’s Goodbye
Live day by day.
Why art thou bending toward the backward way?
One summit and another thou shalt mount.
Why stop at every round the space to count
The past mistakes if thou must still remember?
Watch not the ashes of the dying ember.
Kindle thy hope. Put all thy fears away—
Live day by day.
Julia Harris May
The last day of March, and thus Maggie’s last day at school, fell on a Friday.
She spent most of the day trying not to weep. She was going to miss the school, miss the children, and miss being a teacher—at least for now. Moreover, at different times of the day the thoughtfulness and kindness of her students very nearly unglued her already fragile composure.
Each child brought her a gift, almost all homemade, and every one of them precious and to be kept with her other mementos. Even the Conibear twins showed up, grinning and obviously pleased with themselves, with a somewhat bent twig, explaining that it was a “baby maple tree” she could plant in her front yard to “’member them by.”
“I assure you, Willy and Billy, I could never, ever forget the two of you.”
She was packing up her treasures in advance of the dismissal bell when Huey Lazlo edged up beside her at her desk and tugged at her hand.
“Miss Maggie?”
Maggie looked down at the small face with the pointed chin. “Yes, Huey?”
“Selma and me drew you a picture.”
He handed her a drawing of a dark-haired little boy and a taller girl. The picture had been matted and framed on hardboard. Obviously, Regina Wallace had had a hand in the project.
Maggie had all she could do not to break into tears. Months ago Selma, Huey’s big sister, had drawn a picture for Jonathan: a picture of herself and her little brother. In that earlier drawing, the girl wore an utterly solemn face, and the boy’s cheeks were tracked with tears—clearly a reflection of their troubled hearts and their unhappy life at home with their parents. This time the children in the picture were smiling and holding flowers. And at the bottom were printed the words: “Thank you for helping us.”
And thank you, Ben and Regina. Thank you for taking these children into your home and into your hearts, she thought.
Tears burned Maggie’s eyes, but she managed a smile. “This is the finest picture I’ve ever seen, Huey. You can be sure I’ll keep it forever. Please thank Selma for me too.”
His answering smile was shy but bright. “Will you and Mr. Stuart come to visit us sometimes after we move to Louisville?”
“Of course we will, Huey! And no doubt the Wallaces will bring you and Selma back to visit us too.” She bent over and hugged the boy.
The dismissal bell rang then, and the children—every last one of them—filed up to Maggie’s desk and gave her a hug and said goodbye. Huey hung back until the last student had left the room. He came forward to collect one more hug before starting for the door. At the last moment, he turned back and waved. “I’ll miss you, Miss Maggie!”
Maggie put a fist to her mouth to keep from crying.
I’ll miss you too, Huey. I’ll miss every one of you…all my children…
She waved to him and turned away so he wouldn’t see her weeping.
Jonathan found her facing the chalkboard, her slender shoulders heaving, sobs tearing from her throat.
“Oh, my dear…” He crossed the room and took her by the shoulders, turning her around and pressing her face against his chest. “I’m so sorry, Maggie. I hate this for you. I’d give anything if I could have kept it from happening.”
She choked on a sob, pulled in a steadying breath, and wiped a hand over her eyes. “No, I’m all right, Jonathan,” she said, looking up at him. “Really, I am.” She still held Huey’s picture in her hand, and she showed it to him.
He studied the picture and felt his own eyes sting. “This has to be so hard for you.”
“I don’t think I’m crying because I can’t teach here anymore. Can you understand that? I honestly believe it’s right that I leave…and leave now. I’m crying because it’s…such a bittersweet goodbye. Yes, I’ll miss the school—being here with the children and with you. But I can come and visit, and you and I will still have our time together at home. I think I’m simply realizing just how much of my life has been lived here in this building. So many years. Growing up here, then leaving, and coming back. Finding you again—there’s so much of me inside this school, Jonathan. It’s almost like leaving a part of me behind.”
He held her close, saying nothing.
Finally she eased back enough to look at him. She smiled. A brave smile, made all the more poignant by the tears that still glistened in her eyes. “That’s the sadness. But there’s a sweetness, also, there really is. I’m leaving for the right reasons, and I have a nice home and precious baby girl waiting for me. Not to mention a wonder
ful husband. I have parents and a brother who love me, and now I can spend more time with them. And eventually, God willing, I’ll be a teacher again, thanks to Anna. I’ll even have a school that’s partly my own.”
She stopped, straightened her shoulders, and pressed his fingers with her own. “It’s time to go. I’m ready now. Let’s pick up our daughter and go home.”
At the exit, Jonathan waited as she turned for one last look behind her. Then they stepped outside together.
Chapter Twenty-five
A Grateful Heart
O my Love and Life,
O my Life and Love,
Thank God for you!
James Thomson
April. Even in a coal town the promise of spring made itself known, drifting down from the mountains, weaving its gently scented fragrance among the dust-covered houses and streets, bringing a hint of brighter skies and warmer days.
On Saturday Maggie and Jonathan took advantage of the nicest weather they’d had in months to take Gracie for a buggy ride out of town. It wasn’t merely a pleasure ride, although Maggie was enjoying every minute of it. The excitement simmering just beneath her appreciation of the sunshine and light breezes had to do with the objective of their excursion.
Their destination was the Taggart farm, where they planned to speak with Maggie’s cousins, Jeff and Martha, about a plan that would change the lives and future of two families: the MacAuleys and the Stuarts.
They stopped only once before reaching their destination, pulling over to the side of the road to admire a patchwork field of early wildflowers. While there, they added yet another prayer to the myriad others they’d been sending up for weeks.
Saturday was a long day, and a lonely one at that, for Kate. No sign of Maggie or the baby. Matthew was at the mine, and Ray off with his friends, now that his job at the farm had ended. When she was alone like this, her mind betrayed her with memories and with fear. The memories were filled with thoughts of Eva Grace—what her oldest child had gone through at the hands of a man who’d said he loved her, Kate not knowing until it was too late to help—and the suffering Eva had endured at the end.
The fear. The fear centered around that man who had deceived her daughter, who beat her and humiliated her, threatened her, and threatened to take her child. Surely he would come one day. No matter how they all avoided speaking of it, Richard Barlow would come for Gracie. Of this Kate had no doubt.
Matthew kept reminding her that the law had placed a restraining order on Richard. But knowing what she knew about him, having seen for herself the rage in the man that day he’d come and tried to force Eva Grace to go home with him, Kate was convinced the question wasn’t if he would come, but when.
She was eager for Matthew to come home. But when he finally came in, one look told her he was hurting and exhausted. After he cleaned up, they ate a quiet supper, their conversation limited to her few, careful questions and his mostly one-syllable responses.
He did ask after Ray, as well as Maggie and her family. When she refused his offer to help with the dishes, telling him to rest, he wandered off to the front room where he promptly fell asleep in his chair.
Kate woke him after finishing her mending, and as soon as he checked the locks and changed his clothes, they went to bed.
Late into the night Kate lay staring at his back, wondering how many lonely days like this she could endure without going completely mad.
Too excited to sleep, Maggie sat at the vanity, brushing her hair.
“You’re going to pull it out by the roots the way you’re attacking it,” Jonathan observed. He relieved her of the brush and began to wield it in even, gentle strokes.
This had become a nightly routine, and Maggie was hard-pressed to say who enjoyed it most. Jonathan claimed he did, but she didn’t see how that could be possible.
“When will we tell them?” she asked. “I don’t want to wait too long. Mum has seemed so…so heavy hearted lately. This is going to make such a difference for her.”
“How about tomorrow? Kate’s already asked if we’d come for a late supper after rehearsal. I could drive you over before then, and you could spend some time with your mother while Matthew and I are at the church.”
“That would be perfect.”
“Just don’t let anything slip to Kate until Matthew and I get back.”
“I won’t. But I doubt that I’ll close my eyes tonight. Oh, Jonathan! I still can’t believe we’re going to do this. That you’re going to do this!”
“First things first, Maggie. We can’t do anything unless your folks are agreeable. And it’s hard to tell what Matthew will say.”
“How could he not agree to it? Surely he will.”
“Your father is a very proud man,” Jonathan pointed out. “And if you don’t mind my saying so, at times he can be a very stubborn man. We’d best not count on anything until we see his reaction.”
Jonathan was right, of course. Her mother wasn’t exaggerating when she fussed about Da’s hardheadedness.
“Ray will be positively wild for the idea,” she said. “And Mum is going to kiss your feet.” She reached behind her, stilled his hand with the brush, and then patted the vanity bench for him to sit down beside her.
He looked dubious. “Are you sure this spindly thing will hold both of us?”
“We’ll find out, won’t we?”
He sat and she took his hand. “I need to know something.”
“What’s that?”
“Why are you doing this? For that matter, why do you do any of the things you do? You’re always giving, Jonathan. You put everyone before yourself. You always have.”
“What are you talking about?”
“Don’t be evasive. You know what I mean. You think I don’t know about some of the things you do? I do know. For instance, I know you’re helping Kenny fund the mission. Anna let it slip. And you’re forever buying things for the school out of your own pocket. I expect you’ve done that for years.” She stopped and then added, “And look what you’re doing with your singing miners. The time and effort you give them just because you think it will be good for them and the town. And now this—what you’re doing for my family.”
The more she said, the more he fidgeted. But Maggie wasn’t finished. “You’ve been pouring yourself and your wallet out for as long as I’ve known you, Jonathan Stuart. I’ve wanted to ask you for years what motivates you. I figure now that I’m your wife, I have the right to ask. Why do you do it?”
He still didn’t meet her gaze. “I don’t believe I’ve ever thought about it. But gratitude perhaps?”
It was no surprise to Maggie that he hadn’t thought about it. But his answer confused her.
“I don’t understand. All the people you’ve helped over the years, why would you be grateful to them?”
“I’m not grateful to them. I’m grateful to God.”
Finally he met her eyes. “I’ve had an incredible life, Maggie. I’ve never wanted for anything. I’ve had…so much: a happy childhood, wonderful parents, a good education, good friends.” He stopped, running a hand down the side of his face before going on. “Let me explain something. When I came to Skingle Creek, it was with the somewhat patronizing notion that the people here needed me. I was young and idealistic and convinced that God called me here to give these poor people a blessing.”
“Well, what’s wrong with that? You have been a blessing to the town.”
He put a hand to her arm. “No, Maggie. I had it all wrong. I’m the one who received the blessing. These people have given me more than I could have ever hoped for in a lifetime. The children, their parents—the people of Skingle Creek—gave me a reason for existence, a purpose I would never have found on my own.
“Moreover, it was here that God showed me what He wanted from me and for me. It was here that He healed me, physically and spiritually. And it was here,” he lifted her hand and brushed a light kiss over it, “it was here that He gave me the most precious gift of my life�
�He gave me you.”
His voice caught and he hesitated before going on. “You and your family. Gracie. Don’t you see? He’s given me everything I’ve ever prayed for and so much more. The little I do for anyone else, and it is little in comparison to what He’s done for me, I suppose I do it because I live with an overflowing heart. I am so deeply grateful.”
The room was completely quiet. Jonathan’s eyes caught the glow from the kerosene lamp, and Maggie felt herself drawn to the light in his gaze. She touched his cheek with the back of her hand and left it there until he covered it with his own.
She’d thought she was finally coming to know him well, this man she had loved almost all her life. But she realized that tonight, more than at any other time, she had seen his heart and felt the very pulse of his being.
In that moment, her own heart rose up in response and matched his gratitude with her own.
Chapter Twenty-six
Shadows over Sunday
Our deeds pass by as shadows
In pursuit of what we are.
Anonymous
These songs you’ve got us working on now, Jonathan. They’re not so easy to sing as some of the others, are they?”
Jonathan shook his head, waiting for Matthew to step inside the church before closing the door. “No, they’re not. Even so, I think the men are coming along nicely with them, don’t you?”
His father-in-law made a low sound in his throat as they started into the sanctuary. “If you say so. I think you might have chosen a few pieces easier to learn.”
“Now, Matthew, don’t you go letting on as though the music is troublesome to you. The men take a lot of their signals from you. If they see that you’re fine with the songs, they’ll try to match you.”
Matthew made the same guttural sound as before. “You and your ideas. You do come up with some dandies. You really think we’re up to this?”