The Wind Harp

by BJ Hoff

  He groaned to himself, slowing his pace even more. Fifteen years…

  But was that really so much? He wasn’t quite forty yet, after all. Not exactly in his dotage.

  He fumbled for some reassurance. Yes, what about Herb Danson and his wife? Herb was a good twenty years older than Maryanne, and from all appearances they were an ideal couple. For that matter, look at Ben and Regina Wallace. At least a dozen years or more accounted for the difference in their ages. And to anyone who knew them, they set an example for the perfect marriage.

  Marriage?

  Jonathan shook his head as if to lose a bothersome insect. He had to stop this. He might not be exactly doddering, but he was no schoolboy either. A little common sense was called for, and the sooner the better. And he hadn’t missed the glint of fire in Matthew MacAuley’s eyes when he’d first seen his daughter standing on the porch with a man. Until he realized who she was with, he’d looked as if he might have been about to fetch a shotgun. He and Matthew might be friends, but if Maggie’s father sensed anything amiss in a man’s behavior with his daughter—especially an older man—Jonathan suspected friendship wouldn’t count for much.

  Disgusted with himself and frustrated with the entire situation, he expelled an impatient breath and turned his thoughts toward home.

  Matthew faced his daughter. “Since when do you call Mr. Stuart ‘Jonathan’?”

  Maggie headed toward the kitchen, answering as she went. “He asked me to call him that, Da.”

  He was on her heels like a bloodhound on the scent. “That doesn’t seem right to me, Maggie. He may not be your teacher anymore, but he’s still your employer.”

  Maggie stopped just inside the kitchen. Unfortunately there was no sign of her mother or Eva Grace to deflect his attention. “He’s really not my employer, Da. I’m employed by the school board, just as Mr.—just as Jonathan is. He’s my superior, of course, being the principal. All the same, it was his idea that I call him by his given name. Not mine.”

  Her father’s lips thinned, and he clearly had a mind to say more when Maggie’s mother walked into the kitchen. “Oh, you’re home, Maggie! Good. We were getting worried.”

  Thoroughly exasperated by now, Maggie looked from one to the other. “You can’t be worrying about me anymore, Mum. Nor you, Da. I’m not a little girl any longer. I’m perfectly capable of looking out for myself, whether it’s daylight or dark.”

  Both stood staring at her, Da’s face rapidly darkening to a thunderhead.

  Her mother merely looked confused. “We know that, dear. But still—”

  “Jonathan Stuart saw her home,” Da said, his tone grudging. “So she was in good hands.” He turned back to Maggie. “But we had no way of knowing who you were with until you showed up at the door, girl! No matter how old you might be, we still worry.”

  “That was good of Mr. Stuart,” said her mother. “But I hope it wasn’t a bother.”

  By now Maggie had all she could do not to grind her teeth. “He insisted on seeing me home, Mum. He didn’t seem to consider it a bother. Not at all. We met up with each other at the square, and he invited me to supper—”

  “But you’d already had your supper—”

  “Yes, I know,” said Maggie, pulling in a deep breath. “But he wanted some company while he had his, so I had a piece of pie with him.”

  “Oh, well, that was nice then,” her mother said vaguely.

  Hoping to change the subject, Maggie asked about Eva Grace.

  Her mother made a palms-up gesture. “She stayed in the bedroom by herself all evening again. Maggie, have you tried to talk to her?”

  “I told you I have, Mum. I get nowhere.”

  So far she had kept her silence about her sister’s nightly weeping. Her mother had enough to worry about these days without fretting over Eva Grace. The searching look her mum now fixed on her made Maggie wonder if she wasn’t suspicious that her daughter was keeping something from her.

  Maggie was relieved when Da cleared his throat and announced he had to get to bed. Which meant that everyone had to get to bed. His assumption that the entire household would keep to his schedule, including bedtime, didn’t bother Maggie as much tonight as it did most other times. At least he wouldn’t be nagging her about coming home late, and her mother wouldn’t be able to question her further about Eva Grace.

  Truth to tell, the thought of the dark, quiet bedroom was inviting. Finally she’d be able to think about the strange…but not unpleasant…evening she had spent with Jonathan Stuart.

  On her way to the bedroom, she silently tested his name on her lips again, wishing she could say it aloud.

  Jonathan…

  She half hoped Eva Grace would already be asleep, though it was still early.

  But Evie was wide awake, sprawled on the bed opposite Maggie’s, thumbing idly through a Sears, Roebuck catalog.

  “You’re in dutch,” she said without looking up.

  “Don’t even start. Honestly, sometimes Da makes my teeth rattle.”

  Eva Grace turned to look at her. “Where were you anyway? I’ve heard him pacing and grumbling for the past half-hour.”

  Maggie hesitated. “At the square, listening to the music.”

  “This late?”

  Maggie had no intention of telling her sister that she’d spent the evening with Jonathan Stuart. But she needn’t have concerned herself. Eva Grace had already turned her back and was reaching for the lamp. “Can you change in the dark? I’m going to sleep.”

  “Sure,” Maggie said, relieved Evie wasn’t going to question her more. “Go ahead.”

  By the time she’d changed into her nightgown and slipped into bed, she was too pent up to sleep. She could tell by Eva Grace’s breathing that she too was still awake.

  There was something she wanted to ask her, but she couldn’t bear it if her sister took to teasing her—or worse yet, asked too many awkward questions. Finally she couldn’t stand it any longer.

  “Evie?”

  No answer.

  “Don’t pretend to be asleep. I know you’re not.”

  There was a long sigh. “I’d like to be.”

  “Evie, promise not to make fun if I ask you something?”

  Her sister made a sound under her breath that sounded like a growl. “I don’t feel like talking, Maggie.”

  “You never feel like talking anymore. I’m beginning to wonder why you came home in the first place.”

  There was a long silence. Then, “All right. What’s on your mind?”

  “You’re sure?”

  “I said so, didn’t I?”

  There. That sounded more like the old Eva Grace.

  “How do you—” Maggie swallowed, then tried again, “How do you know if you’re…in love?”

  Now she had her sister’s attention. Eva Grace flipped over and propped herself up on her elbow. “What?”

  She reached as if to light the lamp again, but Maggie stopped her. “Don’t! Just tell me. What’s it like?”

  There wasn’t enough moonlight that she could quite see her sister’s eyes, but she sensed her stare.

  “So you finally got yourself a beau. Who is he?” Eva Grace’s tone was laced with a humorless edge.

  “I’m not going to tell you a thing unless you answer my question,” Maggie said, already wishing she’d kept quiet.

  Evie was silent for a long moment, and then sank down onto her side. “Well…at first you think it’s the most wonderful thing that’s ever happened to you.”

  “At first?”

  “In the beginning you feel flustered all the time. You can’t concentrate on anything else but…him. And when you think about him, which is most of the time, you feel almost dizzy. You don’t want to be with anyone else.” She paused and Maggie thought she heard her voice catch. “He’s your whole world.”

  “Is that how it was with you and Richard?”

  A long silence followed Maggie’s question.

  “Evie?”

 
; “Yes,” her sister said so softly Maggie could barely hear her. “That’s how it was.”

  Maggie hesitated but couldn’t stop the question that was bothering her. “You said at first.”

  “What?”

  “You said that’s how it is at first,” Maggie prompted. “What about later?”

  Eva Grace let out a long breath. “Everything changes, Maggie. The first craziness of being in love can’t last forever.”

  Maggie thought about that. “But you and Richard still love each other.”

  Evie said nothing.

  “Don’t you?”

  There was a long silence. Maggie leaned toward the other bed.

  Even with the distance that separated them, she could feel her sister’s tension in the moment before a wild sob exploded, followed by a storm of weeping.

  She swung out of bed. This time Evie wasn’t going to brush her off without an explanation.

  “Evie?” She took her sister firmly by the shoulders. Without warning Evie collapsed against her, still weeping. Alarmed now, Maggie put her arms around her for support. “Evie—what’s wrong?”

  Eva Grace nearly choked on a strangled sob.

  Frightened, Maggie wanted to go for their mother, but Eva Grace held on to her. “Tell me, Evie!”

  “Oh, Maggie! I’m going to have a baby!”

  Too stunned to say a word, Maggie held her sister close, her mind racing.

  “But that’s wonderful!” she finally managed. “Why did you wait so long to tell me? Do Mum and Da know?”

  When Evie cried harder, Maggie came round to sit down on the bed beside her. “I thought you’d be happy, Evie. A baby—isn’t that what you always wanted? A husband and a family? Here, let me light the lamp—”

  “No!” Evie was obviously fighting for control, clutching at Maggie so she couldn’t move. “I don’t want the light. And you’ve got to promise me you won’t tell Mum or Da about the baby!”

  “But why not?”

  In the deeply shadowed room, Maggie could just barely make out her sister’s features. Something cold uncoiled itself as she saw the frantic look in her eyes.

  “Why don’t you want Mum and Da to know? They’ll be overjoyed! You know how excited they were when Nell Frances had her first—”

  “Keep your voice down!” Though little more than a whisper, her sister’s tone was harsh. “It was different with Nell Frances,” she went on, staring into the darkness of the room as if she were unwilling to meet Maggie’s eyes.

  Again Maggie felt the coldness of dread wash over her. “Different… how?”

  Slowly, her sister lifted her head, finally meeting Maggie’s gaze. “Because Nell Frances has a husband who doesn’t beat her.”

  Maggie stared at her in horror. “Evie…no! Richard—”

  “Richard is a monster.”

  Chapter Eleven

  A Sister’s Tears

  Is there any warmer place to seek comfort

  than in the consoling embrace of a sister?

  Anonymous

  The words her sister spoke were made even more terrible by the angry hiss in her voice. For an instant Maggie was too shocked to react. A part of her sensed what was coming, but she recoiled at hearing it.

  One of the difficulties in grasping what Eva Grace was telling her had to do with the unexpected shift in their relationship. Evie was the big sister who, before tonight, had always accepted that role. She was the one who counseled Maggie and Nell Frances, listened to their problems, and offered advice, even when she let it be known that they’d brought their woes on themselves. There had also been times, during truly grievous situations, when they had cried on Evie’s shoulder, and she had always done her best to console them.

  But now Eva Grace was the one who needed comforting. And whatever she was about to hear, Maggie somehow knew her sister’s plight was too dreadful to be fixed by a strong shoulder or a sympathetic word.

  In acceptance of this awkward, but clearly necessary reversal of roles, she put an arm around her sister’s shoulders. “Tell me, Evie,” she said quietly. “Tell me everything.”

  How would she ever be able to live with the fact that her sister—the gentle-natured, oh-so-feminine Eva Grace who had never wanted anything more than to escape Skingle Creek, marry, and have a family—had been living a nightmare? And not for a brief time, but for most of her marriage—more than five years now.

  “How have you managed to keep this to yourself all this time?” she asked after Evie finished her story.

  “Who was I going to tell? I don’t have any close friends in Lexington. Both you and Nell Frances had your own lives. And I couldn’t tell Mum and Da. I just couldn’t. You know how it would hurt them, not to mention what Da might do.”

  “Da’s not able to do much of anything these days,” Maggie said, her mind swarming as if under attack by bees. “But your pastor? A doctor? Surely you talked to someone.”

  Eva Grace shook her head. “The pastor and Richard are friends,” she said, bitterness edging her tone. “There’s no way I could tell him what Richard is really like. Not that he’d believe me anyway. Everyone thinks Richard is the perfect husband. A regular saint.”

  She made a harsh sound in her throat that might have been a failed attempt at a laugh.

  “When…he beats you, how—I mean, does he actually use his fists on you?”

  Why had she asked that? The moment the question was out of her mouth, Maggie regretted it. She didn’t want to know, not really. How would she ever rid herself of the image of Richard Barlow beating her gentle sister?

  Eva Grace didn’t look at her but sat hunched on the side of the bed, hugging her arms to herself. “Sometimes he uses his fists. Sometimes a belt.”

  “Oh Evie—” Maggie felt sick to her stomach.

  As if she hadn’t heard, Evie went on, her voice a flat, emotionless drone. “He’s always careful where he hits me, of course. He never leaves a mark where it might show.”

  Maggie’s mind spun with thoughts of fitting punishments for Richard, and she almost wished she could mete it out herself. She strengthened her grip on her sister’s shoulder.

  But Evie moved away, got up, and went to light the lamp on the table between their beds. She then turned her back to Maggie, slipped her nightgown off her shoulders, and stood immobile, saying nothing.

  Nausea rose in Maggie, burning her throat, threatening to choke her. She struggled just to breathe as she sat staring at the evidence of what she’d just heard. Dark with ugly bruises, criss-crossed with deep red slashes, her sister’s back looked as if someone had branded her in a fit of rage and brutality.

  Maggie sat transfixed, stunned, and sick at heart.

  Evie had called Richard a monster.

  She was right.

  Eva Grace rearranged her nightgown and turned toward Maggie, but she kept her gaze averted. Maggie stood, went to her sister, and gently pulled her close. “I’m so sorry, Evie,” she choked out. “So terribly sorry.”

  A thought struck her. “Does Richard know about the baby?”

  Evie slipped away from her and went to the window, where she stood, looking out into the night. “Oh yes. He knows. But it hasn’t changed anything.”

  “You mean he’s still beating you?”

  Evie turned around. “I thought…at first…he might be different when he heard about the baby. And he was for a while. But then he started up again, worse than ever.”

  “How can he do this? Why does he do it?”

  Evie shook her head. “He’s always sorry afterward. He brings me flowers or some other gift and begs me to forgive him. And I always have. Until now.”

  She lifted her head, and the depth of sadness and hurt in her eyes broke Maggie’s heart. She felt tears fill her own eyes, but they were scalding tears of anger and shame. Shame that she hadn’t known what her sister was going through until now.

  “Why did you wait so long to come home? Why didn’t you leave him sooner?”

  E
vie went white, looking away. “I haven’t really…left him, Maggie. I just had to get away for a few days to think.”

  “What do you mean, you haven’t left him? Of course, you’ve left him! You can’t possibly even think of going back to that—”

  “He’s my husband, Maggie. I’m going to have his child.”

  “He’s a madman! You’ll have your baby here!”

  Evie raised a hand to warn her. “Keep your voice down!”

  “Surely you don’t intend to keep this from Mum and Da any longer? Evie, they have to know.”

  Maggie groped for the words that would convince her sister. “You can’t go back to Richard. You could lose the baby, Evie. Could you live with that? Would you really take a chance on your baby being hurt? Or worse?”

  For an instant, Evie looked confused. “It’s Richard’s baby too. I don’t think he’d actually…”

  Her words fell away.

  “You just admitted that he’s still beating you.” Maggie didn’t think she had it in her to be so harsh with her older sister, but she was suddenly afraid—afraid that Evie would actually weaken and go back to that—

  “Evie—think! Even if the baby survives the beatings before it’s born, what about after?”

  “Oh, Maggie, Richard wouldn’t hurt his own child! He’s not that cruel!”

  “He certainly has no compunction about hurting his own wife, does he? Are you really going to give him the benefit of the doubt? You’d actually risk your baby’s life?”

  “Well, what am I supposed to do?” Evie shot back, her eyes blazing. “How am I supposed to keep myself and a child? Do you have any idea what it’s like for a woman who leaves her husband? And with a baby yet?”

  Maggie had all she could do to keep from shaking her. “No, obviously I don’t. But I do know that you have a family to take care of you and your baby. We won’t let him hurt you again, Evie. You’ll be safe here, you and the baby.”

  She stopped and caught her breath. “Evie, if you don’t tell Mum and Da, I’m going to. And the only thing that will stop Da from going after Richard is if you stay here. But you’ve seen how it is with Da. He’d be no match for Richard, not with the shape he’s in. You know I’m right.”