by BJ Hoff
Jonathan fervently hoped that wouldn’t be necessary.
Ben had stopped by yesterday evening to give an account of how the children were doing. “They’re very protective of each other. We’ve seen that before with siblings who suffer violence on the part of a parent. They stick together. We tried to give them separate rooms, but the boy put up such a fuss we moved an extra bed into the room next to ours and kept the two together.”
So far Jonathan had heard nothing from the deputy. He wasn’t concerned about how long they had to stay with Ben and Regina. The Wallaces had kept children in their home for weeks at a time without complaint. But these two needed resolution as soon as possible. Decisions had to be made about their care and how to keep them a safe distance from their father.
Caruso was doing an admirable job with the Pagliacci aria, but for some reason Jonathan found the music neither soothing nor inspiring this evening. To the contrary, the weeping clown was beginning to get on his nerves.
He rose from the sofa to turn off the music, stopping when an insistent knock sounded at the front door. After taking time to set the phonograph arm in place, he went to the door. He half expected to see Ben standing on his porch. Instead, he opened the door to the hulking figure of Huey Lazlo’s father, who loomed even larger than Jonathan remembered. He also looked angry enough to kill somebody.
The man was formidable. Jonathan knew better than to judge a person by his appearance, but Mr. Lazlo made it very difficult not to jump to conclusions. He was still in his mine clothing, which was filthy. Coal dust nearly concealed his face below the miner’s cap and made him look even more dangerous than the first time Jonathan had met him. The eyes peering out from his blackened skin flickered with anger and malice, and his mighty fists were clenched, as if he were barely holding in check a pulsating rage that might explode at any second.
Jonathan took a step back. “Mr. Lazlo,” he said, hoping his voice didn’t sound nearly as unsteady to Lazlo as it did to him.
“I want my kids.”
“Your children aren’t here.”
“Where are they?”
“In a safe place.” Jonathan paused. “They’re being well cared for.”
“You got no right to take my kids.”
Jonathan drew in a long breath. “And you have no right to hurt your son.” The coldness of his tone surprised him.
The man was brutally muscled and unmistakably agitated. He thrust a leg forward as if to insinuate himself inside the door. Jonathan knew a hard shudder of fear. He must not let this man get past him and inside his house.
He did his best to block Lazlo’s entrance by posting himself squarely in the doorway.
The other eyed him as if taking his measure. “I never hurt my boy. You can’t keep him from me.”
Anger roared through Jonathan, even though he knew he absolutely had to maintain control. “That has yet to be decided, Mr. Lazlo. Your son was beaten severely. He wears the bruises to prove it.”
Lazlo’s eyes flared. The heavy brows met, and the scar over his eye turned livid. “What’d he tell you?” His voice was guttural, an angry snarl.
It was on the tip of Jonathan’s tongue to admit that Huey had told them nothing, but he thought better of it. “I can’t discuss that with you.”
“You took my boy and set that deputy on me, but I done nothing.”
“Mr. Lazlo, you need to leave. Someone will be in touch with you once the situation is investigated.”
Lazlo peered over Jonathan’s shoulder, as if he expected to see his children. For an awful moment, Jonathan half expected the man to shove his way past him.
And then what would he do?
Waiting, he was surprised to see a look of uncertainty and confusion settle over Lazlo’s brutish features. For a moment he actually looked bewildered, even distressed. In spite of himself, Jonathan felt a stab of uncertainty about the man.
But within the moment bitterness and rage pulled Lazlo’s face into a swollen mask. “No one’s got a right to keep my kids away from me,” he said, his tone threatening. “You better not try.”
They stood there, glaring at each other for what seemed an interminable time, Lazlo’s eyes burning with anger, Jonathan doing his best to appear undaunted.
Finally Lazlo turned and stamped down the walk.
Shaken, Jonathan closed the door and leaned against it until his breath returned. He had been all too conscious of the fact that, at any point in the confrontation, Lazlo could have slammed one of those enormous fists into his face or alongside his head and destroyed him. So fierce had been the sensation of impending violence that he felt no real relief even with Lazlo gone. He was also chillingly aware that there was no guarantee the man wouldn’t return, especially if the deputy delayed taking action on the children.
It struck him that he should have got a dog for himself when he’d first had the idea.
Chapter Seventeen
Larger Than Life
A man’s a man for a’ that.
Robert Burns
Maggie’s reaction to the news that Burian Lazlo had come to his home last night gave Jonathan a jolt of surprise. He didn’t like to upset her, of course, but he couldn’t help but be pleased that she seemed so concerned for his welfare.
In fact, both Maggie and Carolyn seemed genuinely worried for him. He’d decided to tell them about Lazlo first thing this morning before school took up, mostly to put them on alert. It wasn’t out of the question that Lazlo might show up at the school, and Jonathan wanted them to be watchful at all times.
He sat on the edge of his desk, facing both women as he continued. “I don’t like doing this,” he said, “but with Burian Lazlo coming to my house, until this situation is settled, I want to keep both the front and back doors of the school locked. I probably should have thought of it before.”
“Perhaps the Lazlo children shouldn’t even come to school for now,” Carolyn said. “Wouldn’t it be safer for them to stay in for a few days?”
“I thought about that,” said Jonathan. “But this situation is hard enough on them as it is. Sitting around with little to do would make it even more difficult. I think they’re better off in school. Besides, it’s not likely that Lazlo will try anything here. Locking the doors is simply a precaution. It only makes sense to be safe.”
“I wouldn’t put anything past a man like that,” Carolyn said, her tone sharp.
Jonathan shook his head. “There’s something very strange about all this. I’ve dealt with similar situations before, but I don’t remember ever having a case where one child was mistreated but not another in the same household. I’m sure it happens, but this is a first for me.” He paused, thinking. “Even Lazlo himself doesn’t seem typical. The man looks like a brute and mostly behaves like a bully, but there’s something else about him. He seems…troubled. Perhaps confused. I can’t quite put my finger on it, but he’s different than I expected him to be.”
Carolyn sighed. “Jonathan, you’re always giving everyone the benefit of the doubt, but I don’t see how you can in this case. This man deserves jail, not mercy.”
“I’m not giving him the benefit of the doubt, Carolyn. And I’m not for a moment downplaying what he’s done to Huey. I’m simply saying—” Jonathan broke off, feeling a sense of frustration. “I’m not sure what I’m saying.”
Maggie had remained silent since her initial expression of concern. Jonathan glanced at her, wondering what she was thinking. But she volunteered nothing, so he went on.
“In any event, just be mindful of the locked doors. And keep a sharp eye out when you have the children on the playground.” He stood then, indicating he had nothing more to say.
Carolyn left, going on to the office, but Maggie lingered a moment, watching him as if she had something to say.
“Maggie?”
Still she hesitated, her brows knitting in a frown. “I can’t believe that man came to your home,” she finally said. “Please be careful.”
; “I’m sure he won’t come back. I believe I convinced him that I don’t have the children.”
“Still…”
“It will be all right, Maggie.”
“Jonathan, what’s going to happen to them?”
What indeed? He wished he knew the answer to her question and could put her mind at ease, but in truth he didn’t know what to expect.
“I suppose we have to trust that everything will be settled for their best. But whatever is decided, it’s probably not going to happen right away.”
In an attempt to change the subject, he asked about Eva Grace.
“She’s awfully quiet. Sad, of course. But I think she’s relieved too, now that she’s had it out with Richard.” She paused. “If only he leaves her alone.”
“You’re worried that he won’t?”
Her mouth tightened. “From what Evie told me, it wouldn’t be like him to give up something that belongs to him. His wife, the baby…”
She didn’t finish, but Jonathan understood. And he feared she might be right. A man who would beat his own wife—
He cringed. He’d been praying for Eva Grace ever since Maggie had told him of her situation. Clearly it would do well to pray even more.
“She’s keeping busy,” Maggie put in. “She’s a great help to Mum, although I don’t think she feels as well as she might. But she’s making a game effort toward a fresh start. She’s written to Nell Frances to tell her everything, and she’s started sewing for the baby.”
“Could I visit her one day soon, do you think? Or should I wait?”
“I think she’d like very much to see you, Mr.—”
She stopped and shot him a rueful grin. “Habit,” she said.
“A good one to break,” Jonathan said pointedly.
“There’s the bell. I should get to my classroom.”
Jonathan nodded. “Oh…Maggie? I don’t suppose you’d know where I might find a dog?”
“A dog?”
“Yes, I’ve been thinking about getting one for some time now, but I don’t know where to look.”
“Oh, that’ll be nice for you. We almost always had a dog at home.” She smiled. “Sadie. She was a love. I’d think you might find one just about anywhere. They seem to be all over the place.”
“But I wouldn’t know a stray from a family pet.”
“I’ll ask Da. He should be able to help, working with most of the men from town.”
“Good. I’d appreciate it.”
“Are you wanting a dog for—” She stopped, apparently thinking better of what she’d been about to say. “Would you prefer a large dog or a small dog?”
Jonathan looked at her. “Something…substantial. Not one of those creatures that looks more like a rat than a dog. But smaller than a pony.”
She laughed. “I’ll be sure and tell Da your preference.”
Was Jonathan getting a dog because he was afraid? Had Burian Lazlo frightened him by showing up at his house the night before? Maggie wondered. She could certainly understand if that were the case. The man had chilled her blood just by the way he’d stared at her during their visit to the Lazlos.
Somehow, though, she found it almost impossible to imagine Jonathan Stuart being frightened by anything.
Evie would have plenty to say about that. She could just hear her sister now, reminding her that their former teacher was “only a man.” And she would be right to remind her. Maggie knew that at times, even now, she still had trouble seeing Jonathan Stuart as anything less than the paragon she’d made him out to be in her mind. In truth, she’d never quite been able to dispel her childhood image of him as heroic, as larger than life. Sometimes she thought she could stand at the top of Dredd’s Mountain and look down on him, and he would still seem the tallest man she’d ever known.
But the truth was her admiration was more complicated than a case of hero worship. When she was with him and saw the gentleness and kindness looking at her in his dark, steady gaze, she knew she was seeing him through the eyes of a woman who had finally found the one man she had always been looking for, the one man she could belong to, the one…and only…man she could ever bring herself to love.
The one man she could never have.
The thought that he might actually be vulnerable enough to want a dog for whatever reason made him more real to her, possibly more accessible than she originally thought possible.
The Jonathan Stuart her childish heart had once thought could conquer the world had instead become a living, breathing, wonderfully endearing man who had conquered her.
So shaken was she by this unexpected recognition of the depth of her feelings that she had to brace herself against the doorframe of her classroom until her head cleared and her heart slowed enough to face her students.
She was so fond of reminding herself that she was no longer a schoolgirl. Why then couldn’t she stop thinking…and behaving…like one?
Chapter Eighteen
Meeting Dr. Gordon
There is a time when trust is the only
Beacon to light our way.
Anonymous
Saturday morning Maggie and Eva Grace took the old farm wagon the family used for transportation and drove out of town, hoping to find the new doctor in.
Her office was in a small, white, clapboard house about two miles out, close to where the creek ended. The hills surrounding this part of the valley were a fiery blaze of color. Leading up to the building was a narrow gravel road, with the soil on either side dark and loamy. All things combined, the setting had the appearance of a colorful oil painting.
At one time this had been the home of Luanna Ransom, a widow who took in sewing and mending to keep herself and who was known for her unique quilts. Although the house had sat empty since her death more than a year ago, it now appeared that someone had recently given it a fresh coat of paint and topped the gravel road.
Maggie climbed down from the wagon, tied the horse to the rail in front, and went to help her sister.
Eva Grace rolled her eyes when she held out a hand to help her down. “I’m not crippled, Maggie.”
“Cranky, though,” Maggie said under her breath, standing aside to let Evie get down on her own.
On the porch, she put a hand to her sister’s arm, saying, “Evie, you have to tell the doctor about your situation. I know it will be hard, but tell her…about the beatings. She needs to know everything for your sake and the baby’s.”
Evie’s already taut features tightened still more. “I know,” she said quietly, not looking at Maggie.
Beside the door hung a polished wooden shingle, letting them know that this was the office of Sally M. Gordon, M.D. When Maggie knocked, the door opened a crack on its own. She stuck her head in and saw a waiting room of sorts.
Entering, they looked around but saw no one. No doctor, no patients.
“Hello?” Maggie called, then again, “Hello! Is anyone here?”
The waiting area was a small, narrow room furnished with a long, painted bench and three or four wooden chairs with pads. A black coal stove squatted in the corner. The only window had been dressed with white ruffled curtains and a blind. The room was clean, orderly, and cheerful.
“Should we wait?” Eva Grace asked.
Just then the door to their left opened, and a tall woman about their mother’s age appeared in a ticking apron. She topped Maggie by four or five inches at least, and Maggie was tall herself. The woman’s fairly long, mostly gray hair appeared out of control, spiraling every which way with no pretense of style whatever.
Her eyes, a bright, startling blue, darted from Maggie to Eva Grace. “Yes?” she said, her gruff voice tempered by a faint smile.
“We’re looking for Dr. Gordon,” Maggie said.
“And you’ve found her.”
Maggie stared, and so did Eva Grace.
She wasn’t sure what she’d expected—a more urbane, sophisticated type of woman perhaps. Possibly younger. This Dr. Gordon was quite ordinary, though no
t unattractive.
The blue eyes sparked a little. “I expect you’re the one who wants to see me,” the doctor said, her sharp gaze going over Eva Grace.
“I—yes.”
Evie sounded…and looked…even more tense than she’d been when they entered.
“Well, come on back to the examining room, and let’s see how you’re doing. How far along are you?”
Evie seemed to have lost her voice. “I—I don’t know.”
Dr. Gordon looked from Maggie to Eva Grace. “You haven’t seen a doctor?”
Evie hesitated. “No. Not yet.”
“Well, let’s get started then.”
“While you’re waiting,” she said to Maggie, “why don’t you take a piece of paper from that counter there and fill out the patient’s full name and address, her age, and any information about previous illnesses or any particular health problems.”
She held the door, gesturing for Evie to follow her. Maggie saw the apprehension in her sister’s eyes. But the doctor put a firm hand on Eva Grace’s shoulder and propelled her through the open door, closing it solidly behind them.
Maggie glanced at the “counter,” a board that ran half the length of the room, ending at the door to the examining area. As the doctor had instructed, she took a sheet of blank paper to the chair beside the window and began to write.
This was altogether different from the way things had always been done at Dr. Woodbridge’s office. She couldn’t remember ever seeing anyone with paper and pencil there. For that matter, Dr. Woodbridge’s waiting room was much smaller than this, dimly lighted, and had nowhere to sit and nothing to read.
It didn’t take long to complete the information, but she waited a good half hour or more before the door leading off the examining room opened. The doctor briskly crossed the room, pulled up a chair next to her, and gave her a long, measuring look. “I want to talk with you while Eva is getting dressed,” she said. “You’re sisters, I understand.”