by BJ Hoff
She hesitated, but then nodded. Jonathan picked up the reins, clucked to the horse, and drove away.
Maggie sat watching Jonathan from the chair opposite his desk while he poured their coffee. She shouldn’t be doing this. He was obviously still distraught over the Lazlo children. She had no right to burden him even more.
But she needed to talk to him. He was her only friend. He was a man who unfailingly invited the confidence of others, and she was certainly no exception. As a child and as his student, she had probably made a nuisance of herself, going to him with her questions and her problems. Most of her troubles back then had probably seemed trivial to him, but he had never once hinted that they might be unimportant. She had no doubt whatsoever that he still managed to make all his students feel special, as if anything that concerned them concerned him.
When a problem was critical, he always managed to ease the tension and the worry simply by listening and, when feasible, helping with a solution or at least offering a bit of advice.
Maggie knew for a fact that he would risk his own safety to protect a student. The night Billy Macken and Orrin Gaffney had attacked her and Kenny, for example. That night, though in poor health and physically frail, Jonathan had helped Da and Mr. Tallman rescue them.
More than once over the years, Maggie had wondered at the seeming unfairness of a man who loved children as Jonathan clearly did spending his life childless. What a father he would have been.
“It’s Eva Grace, isn’t it?” she heard him say.
Maggie looked up and nodded.
He came around and sat down on the corner of the desk. “You don’t have to tell me anything you think she wouldn’t want me to know.”
“No, that’s not it. If Evie would confide in anyone besides her own family, it would most likely be you. There’s no one she’s ever trusted more than you, Mr. Stuart…Jonathan.”
He smiled a little. “That’s progress. You’ve called me Jonathan at least twice in one day. Now, tell me about Eva Grace.”
Maggie sighed. “Evie left Richard—her husband—for good. She’s not going back to him.”
Sympathy crossed his face. “What happened?”
The room was growing shadowed, the late-afternoon gloom fading into an early twilight. Jonathan lit the lamp behind him before settling himself on the corner of the desk again. He took a sip of coffee.
“Richard was beating her,” Maggie said tightly.
He held his cup suspended, and this time there was no mistaking the pain that crossed his features. “Oh Maggie,” he murmured.
“She’s going to have a baby,” she blurted out. “And Richard knew it. And he still beat her.”
He set his cup on the desk, shook his head slowly, and passed a hand over the back of his neck. “So she’s come home to stay.”
Maggie nodded. “Richard came to get her Saturday, but she stood up to him and refused to go.”
“Good for her!”
“Yes, but she’s so wounded…and sad. I’ve never seen Eva Grace like this. It’s as if her whole world has fallen in on her.”
“No doubt that’s how she feels. Her trust…and her love…have been betrayed.”
Maggie thought about that and realized he was right. In fact, she wasn’t so sure but what Richard’s betrayal might not have been as shattering as the beatings.
Jonathan leaned forward a little. “Nobody knew?”
Maggie shook her head. “She said there was no one in Lexington to tell. Apparently their only friends were Richard’s friends. And she didn’t want to worry the rest of us. Oh, Jonathan! She said it’s been this way for years! I don’t know how she lived with it all that time.”
“Eva Grace was always a strong girl. She must have become an even stronger woman.” He paused. “How did your parents take this? Are they all right?”
“They’re hurt, of course. And worried. But they were wonderful when she told them.”
He nodded. “Yes, they would be.” Still leaning toward her, he lowered his voice even more. “But what about you, Maggie? How are you?”
She hadn’t really had time to think about it. “Oh, I’m all right. I don’t have much choice, do I? I have to be strong for Eva Grace. And for my folks. And now all this with Huey and Selma—” Maggie stopped.
“Huey and Selma will be taken care of,” Jonathan said, although Maggie thought he didn’t look as confident as he sounded.
He was looking at her in the strangest way, studying her, really.
“You’ve always been strong for everyone else, haven’t you?” he observed quietly. “Even when you were a child. It seems to me that’s one of the gifts God instilled in you.”
Maggie didn’t know how to answer. She didn’t feel very strong at all. In fact, she felt as if she might burst into tears at any moment.
“The baby will help Eva Grace get on with her life, Maggie. And it will help Matthew and your mother as well.” His dark eyes searched her face even more intently. “I predict Eva Grace’s child will bless all of you more than you can imagine. Children have a way of bringing healing and hope.”
Maggie wasn’t sure what came over her in that instant. Perhaps the kindness in his gaze, the hushed privacy of the room, and the deepening shadows of the day worked together to foster a closeness, an intimacy that at any other time would have seemed forbidden.
Whatever accounted for it, the words spilled out of her before she could stop them. “You should have children of your own, Jonathan. More than anyone I’ve ever known, you should have your own family!” Appalled by her outburst—so clearly out of place—Maggie watched for some sign of embarrassment, or even anger, on his part.
But if anything, only a trace of regret stole into his expression.
“I’m sorry!” She felt her face grow hot with humiliation. “I should never have said that. It’s none of my business—”
To her relief, he merely waved off her apology and continued to look at her with what appeared to be a quiet affection.
Maggie had worked so hard to win his respect and wanted so much for him to see her as a mature woman. Now, because of her impulsive school girl outburst, she could scarcely meet his gaze.
“It’s all right, Maggie,” he said.
She raised her head to look at him and was relieved to see no trace of anger or reproach. “I really am so sorry,” she said again.
He actually smiled a little. “I would have liked a family. I would have liked it very much. It simply didn’t happen.”
“It should have,” she choked out.
Again came that peculiar look, that intense, searching scrutiny that had unnerved her before. “Well,” he said, “one never knows. It could still happen.” In an instant the look was gone, replaced by a light shrug and a smile. He eased off the desk. “We should get you home,” he said with a glance out the window. “That rain has all the makings of a nasty evening.”
He held out a hand to help her from her chair. They were close, his hand still holding hers, his gaze going over her face. His expression stilled, and neither made any effort to move away. For one breathless moment, Maggie thought he was going to kiss her. She was keenly aware of the warmth and the strength of the hand holding hers, and when she looked into his eyes she saw her own clash of emotions mirrored there.
Then something changed. His expression cleared and, releasing her hand, he stepped back.
Maggie blinked, trying to pretend nothing was any different, knowing that everything was different…unless she’d imagined what she’d seen in his eyes.
She retrieved her coat from the coat tree near the door. He held it for her as she slipped it on, but kept his distance. Somehow that made Maggie feel bereft, as if she’d stepped out of the warmth of the sun and into a cold and somber place.
Long after he dropped Maggie off at home, Jonathan sat in the darkness of his living room. He disliked himself intensely when he fell into these moods. Brooding was how he thought of it. And he’d been doing a lot of it lately.
Mostly about Maggie, but after the shock of what he’d discovered about little Huey Lazlo today, his mood had grown even darker.
Still, he could not have been more grateful for people like Ben and Regina, people who could be counted on to step in when and where they were needed, people who cared more about others than they did about themselves. Thanks to them, Huey and his sister were removed, at least for now, from whatever wickedness resided in their home. But for how long? The deputy’s words kept running through Jonathan’s mind, and each time he remembered, the more disturbed he became. Clearly there was a good chance Selma would have to return home. And possibly Huey as well before too long a time.
He couldn’t let that happen. He simply could not.
But how could he prevent it? He had no legal means of protecting those two children. If they did return home, he hadn’t a thought of what he could do to make sure the abuse didn’t continue with Huey or start up with his sister.
One thing was certain. He couldn’t continue worrying like this. He thought he had settled this weakness in his nature between himself and the Lord a long time ago. No—not a “weakness.” It was sin, and nothing else, to worry as if God could not be trusted, as if the Creator were incapable of caring for His created.
The times when he had seen things that were thought to be impossible become a reality were countless. And hadn’t he been the beneficiary of divine compassion and power more than once? How many times when he had been unable to do anything in his own strength had he witnessed the Lord’s power work yet another wonder? Wasn’t he a great one for reminding his students to expend more energy praying over a troubling situation than fretting about it? Just what good was that advice if he failed to apply it to himself?
Newly convicted that he needed to heed his own counsel, Jonathan got to his knees beside the couch and spent a considerable length of time in petition for little Huey and Selma. When his thoughts turned to Maggie, he groaned aloud but stayed on his knees.
How was he going to live with this? He had been only a breath away from kissing her this evening!
He had been so careful to avoid the very type of situation he’d allowed this afternoon. Yet in an instant, overwhelmed by her closeness, her sadness, and her apparent trust in him, he had very nearly thrown all caution to the wind and acted on desire instead of reason and caution.
Her remark about his needing a family of his own had so moved him that he’d let down his guard. Sitting in the dimness of his office, alone with her, both of them still caught up in the emotions of the day and in her obvious distress about her sister, had made it more difficult than ever to observe the boundaries he’d set for himself.
What if he hadn’t stopped when he did? He might have destroyed their entire relationship…whatever that relationship was. Maggie trusted him. He knew that only too well. She trusted him, even admired him—too much. From childhood, she had built him into something he wasn’t. In her mind he was some kind of hero. Something more than an ordinary man.
He was no hero. He was pitifully ordinary. He knew his weaknesses, but he also knew he’d have a blazingly hard time convincing Maggie of them. Something inside him teased that he really didn’t want her to know the worst about him, that he actually enjoyed her admiration and high regard.
He’d certainly done nothing to discourage it.
He was all too aware that if he were ever to give in to his feelings for her, the feelings that deepened daily, it might have devastating consequences for their friendship and their professional relationship as well. Was this the way it had to be? Always suppressing his feelings for her, never exploring hers for him—if she had any feelings for him, that is. Never daring to take that crucial step beyond friendship, forever keeping a safe distance from the woman she had become…the woman he was falling in love with.
Never to know what they might have together.
Was he really willing to live within those self-imposed restrictions indefinitely? Could he live that way?
Maggie was young and appealing. She was everything and more a young man could want in a sweetheart and a wife. Eventually, he would have to watch her fall in love, get married, and no doubt leave the school to make a home and have children. How could he bear it, losing her to another man—to another life—all the while knowing he had never made her aware of the true nature of his feelings for her?
What was the right thing in this? He knew in his heart that what he felt for Maggie was more than an older man’s desire for a younger woman. No, it was far more than desire, although desire for her was a very real part of his feelings.
Humiliating as it was, he had to face the possibility that his feelings could be merely years of loneliness finally spilling over, crowding out common sense, tempting him, pressing him to want someone he shouldn’t want. Had he finally grown so desperate to escape his solitary life that he had managed to convince himself that he might yet have a chance for a different kind of life—a life that included love and a family with someone who had been special to him and who had held him in the highest estimation for years?
Or could it possibly be within his reach…if only he wasn’t too much the coward to pursue it?
He let out a long breath, impatient with himself. Why—why—couldn’t he have fallen in love like most normal men by now? With a woman like Carolyn Ross, for example. A woman closer to his own age, and one who invited his interest. How much easier his life would have been! He had no doubt but what Carolyn would make an excellent and devoted wife.
She might also smother me to death…
That was unfair. Perhaps because she’d had no children from her brief marriage, she was lonely too and simply compensated for that loneliness by trying to mother…him.
The uncharitable thought made him cringe with self-disgust.
He had to stop thinking. He was tormenting himself with all this introspection and speculation.
Jonathan shifted his weight a little from one side to the other but stayed on his knees, sighing so deeply a shudder coursed through his body. Then, with a deliberate act of will, he once again sought the only One whose counsel had never failed him, the One whose wisdom was the only wisdom in his life…the One who knew, and surely understood, more than any other, what loneliness could do to the human soul.
Chapter Sixteen
A Knock on the Door
Our deeds pursue us from afar,
And what we have been makes us what we are.
John Fletcher
Three days later, badly in need of something to divert his thoughts from the school, the Lazlo children, and Maggie MacAuley, Jonathan Stuart indulged in his favorite escape. Upon arriving home after school, he changed into some worn, comfortable clothes, fixed himself a cup of strong, black coffee, and went into the living room, where he put Enrico Caruso’s recording of Vesti la giubba from Pagliacci on the Victor phonograph.
Over a year old now, the phonograph was Jonathan’s pride and joy, albeit an uncharacteristic extravagance for him. It was the only thing he could remember ever buying on impulse. And what an impulse it had been! He smiled at the memory. He’d been visiting his father in Lexington during the summer before last, only to bring home the phonograph and a new flute along with it!
Although he’d never been inclined toward excessive spending, once the deed was done he absolutely forbade himself even the slightest exercise in guilt. At that time, he had been without a flute for years, ever since his elegant silver flute from his boyhood had been stolen. He decided that the purchase of a more modest replacement after a decade of going without could hardly be considered a luxury.
As for the phonograph, music was much more than a mere indulgence in his life. He thought it could best be described as the difference between living in a cathedral or living in a desert. Music was the cathedral of his being and without it, he suffered a genuine deprivation of the spirit. It was his companion in worship, a balm in sorrow, a comfort in solitude, and an agent of healing. He never enjoyed the emotional and s
piritual experience it brought to him without breathing a prayer of thanks for what he believed to be the very voice of hope.
Sitting on the sofa, Jonathan propped his feet up on the table in front of him and eyed the mahogany box with its lacquered black horn and brass bell. He wondered if Maggie would enjoy this—just sitting quietly and listening. She was so full of life, so energetic and eager to be doing. Would she be bored by this perceived inactivity?
He had to smile a little at the thought of Maggie listening to opera. Somehow he couldn’t quite picture that. What did she do in her spare time? More to the point, did she have any spare time? What with Eva Grace back home, a baby on the way, a teaching position, and whatever jobs she took charge of around the house, he thought it unlikely she would find much in the way of free time.
So much for diverting my thoughts from Maggie…
It was almost as difficult to avoid thinking of Huey and Selma. He hadn’t heard a word from the deputy since taking the children to the Wallaces’ on Monday. He saw them at school, of course, and they appeared to be much the same as usual. With Huey that meant somber, somewhat listless, and unhappy. But he thought he’d caught a glimpse of an uncommon lightness about Selma, the older of the two. Her usually dull gaze might have held just the faintest glimmer of enthusiasm during art today.
He was aware that Selma liked to draw, and he’d detected an above-average ability in the girl. He had tried to nurture that ability all along, but until today she’d shown little interest in experimenting with different colors or textures. Encouraged by this new spark of curiosity, Jonathan had given her a broader palette to work with, as well as a larger canvas.
Maggie’s report on Huey had been less heartening. She told him the boy had been characteristically silent throughout the day, even somewhat sullen.
The good news from Regina was that Selma showed no signs of having been beaten. She seemed fairly certain that the girl had suffered no maltreatment at the hands of her father, but there was no way to make certain without subjecting the child to a doctor’s thorough examination.