by Grace Walton
‘I don’t understand.”
“Yeah, I’m a little short on understanding myself, at the moment. But I know she’s going to disappear.”
“Start at the beginning.” Gage was suddenly dead serious.
Hollister took the tight turn in the highway at a rate of speed far above the official limit. He was rewarded with a cacophony of screeching horns and squealing tires. He kept the careening vehicle under control, barely. When the traffic thinned he began telling his friend the truth.
“I’ve got a thing for your sister.”
“Wait?! For Maggie? Maggie?”
“Yeah.” His laughter was dark. “I’m shocked too.”
“But…but…”
“Let me finish,” he demanded.
“Fine, I’ll shut up, but this better be good.”
“I don’t know whether it’s good or not. I have my doubts as to whether I’ll ever be good enough for your sister.” He stopped to drag in a breath.
“Nobody’s good enough for Maggie,” Gage bit out.
“I agree. But I want to be good enough for her. I want to be everything for her.”
“That’s worse than a glittery greeting card. The next thing you’ll be doing is talking about your feelings. Sounds like you’re giving up your man card to me,” Gage snorted.
“You mean that card you shredded the day you met Carrie?” Hollister challenged.
“That was different,” his friend argued.
“Believe me, it’s no different.”
“That’s impossible.”
“Yeah, I’ve been trying to tell that to myself for a few years now. I even tried to do the right thing and make her hate me.”
“It didn’t work?”
“Oh yeah, it probably did. I’m pretty sure your sister hates me right now. I just had dinner with her.”
“It didn’t go well?”
This time it was Hollister who snorted. “You could say that.”
“She’s my sister. What did you do to her?” Gage’s voice became low and threatening.
“I took her to a very nice pub,” Hollister answered in frustration.
“And that’s it?”
“Of course that’s not it. We ran into Lady Fiona Cooper.”
Gage groaned. “Not that crazy woman who was here at the Black Knife just a few days ago. The one who claims she’s engaged to you?”
“Yeah, that one. And Fee’s got some delusion that she can force me to marry her.”
“So what happened?”
“Her friend, Harlow Fleming, and I use that term lightly, showed Maggie an incriminating photo of me and Fiona. Then he went out of his way to twist the truth so that it sounds like I’m still getting married to her.”
“Didn’t you explain to Maggie that you’re being stalked and scammed by this Lady Fiona?”
“I would have, but your sister stormed out of the pub and raced into a cab before I could stop her.”
“And now you’re off on a mission for Montana Miracles in the Middle East.”
“Yeah, sucks to be me.”
“Hollister, I’m glad you told me the truth. But I got to be up front with you, I’m not so sure you and Maggie are a good idea.”
“Because of my past?”
“That’s part of it. And her ugly experience with Chase Brown is always going to be a hindrance.”
“Yeah, about that.”
“I can’t tell you much,” Gage said. “There’s a lot I don’t know. And I told you before it’s her story, not mine.”
“You could have told me the kid put her was in the hospital,” Hollister bit out.
“Maggie told you that?” Ferguson asked stunned.
“She did. But I’m wondering why you weren’t the one to tell me.”
“Listen, at the time it all went down your hindquarters were sitting in a hole in the middle of a desert. There was no way to reach you.”
“Yeah, but I’ve been back in country a while now.”
“Hollister, I didn’t tell you because Maggie can’t deal with what happened to her. She’s not that free and easy young girl you knew. She doesn’t even want to hug me most of the time and I’m her brother. But the biggest obstacle for you and her is your lack of faith. You know as well as I do, Maggie is a woman of deep, abiding faith. She’d never yoke herself with an unbeliever.”
“Yoke?” Hollister questioned.
“Yeah, you know, like marriage. The Bible is real clear on believers and nonbelievers not entering into marriage together. That’s a bad thing.”
“Marriage?”
“Well, I just assumed that’s what you were talking about. Because I can tell you right now, no man’s going to play fast and loose with my sister and get away with it.” His voice became hard, blue steel.
“I haven’t given too much though as to what happens next.”
“Well, I’ll make sure I know where Maggie settles. I won’t let her vanish. But you better spend some time deciding what that next looks like. Because without a ring on her finger and a set of solemn vows between you, there is no next, not as far as I’m concerned.”
“I’ll think about it,” Hollister promised.
“Yeah, well, you think hard. Cause, if you hurt her, or break her heart, I’ll have no problem putting you down.”
“Got it.”
“So you think she’s coming home?”
“Maybe.”
“Then I’ll take care of her till you get back.”
Gage hung up the phone before Hollister could say anything else. And that was most likely a mercy. Because he had no idea what he would have said. He didn’t really know what he felt about Maggie. He knew he ached for her. And he knew she made a room light up when she just walked into it. He knew he would give his life for hers, if need be. And he’d be glad to die knowing he’d done anything to save hers. But he didn’t know about marriage.
He was a bad risk in the relationship department. He’d not been raised with any kind of normality. And he’d led a life of promiscuity and excess. He knew he could teach Maggie to enjoy what happened between a man and a woman. But he didn’t know if he could give her anything else. And she deserved more than physical bliss. She deserved so much more. But did he have it to give? That was the pertinent question.
Back at her tiny little flat, Maggie shivered as she remembered the look of victory on the blonde Fiona’s face. She could see how the woman reveled in her hold over Hollister. Maggie knew she must, somehow, come to terms with that fact. Hollister belonged to Fiona. The image on Harlow’s cellphone made that clear. There was no place in Hollister’s life for a moonstruck young girl who harbored an adolescent fantasy crush on him.
“It was time, and past, for her to get on with her life. But now it seemed that life was not going to be built in London. She didn’t think she could stand being in the same city with the happy couple. And as wealthy as Lady Fiona was, surely the tabloids would be filled with news of the upcoming wedding. It would be akin to royalty getting married. It would make great copy for the gossip rags. And she didn’t think she could stand seeing that every time she went into a shop.
The least she could do was to fulfill her promise to Dan Gentry. She’d told the young preacher she’d stay and help organize the daycare and afterschool program. After that she could honorably go home. And she would. She would go home and lick her wounds as best she could.
And somehow, she would get over Hollister. She would put her boots on and be the strong Montana woman she knew she could be. And she would even get past her fear of men in general and Chase Brown in particular. She would not spend the rest of her life hiding. She would not give in to the temptation to simply retreat from the world. No, she would not.
Looking at the sterile little space that was her apartment, she walked over to the narrow bed. She knelt on the thin rug that bordered it, and she began to pray.
“Lord, you know me. You’ve known me from the foundation of the Earth. And you have a plan for me,
a plan for good and not evil. I want it, Lord. I want your will for my life. I don’t want to try to plan my way and control my destiny. I will do my best to put the past behind me. I will learn to quell my love for the wrong man. I will seek your highest in all things. And I will surrender both my will and my body to you. Help me, Lord. I know the Bible says in my weakness, you are made strong. So I welcome whatever is your will for my life.”
She knelt there for a moment hoping to feel relieved. But, unfortunately, she didn’t. She felt nothing. She was neither amazed by a wash of peace nor nervous over what lay ahead. But she was determined. And that was something she hadn’t felt in a long, long time. It was good to know what you wanted and trust in the Lord to get you there.
So she changed into her pajamas, settled the delicate turquoise bracelet on her wrist, turned off the room’s one light, and got into the little bed. She lay on her side facing the stained wall. She wondered what God was doing in her. She closed her eyes and drifted off to sleep knowing that whatever it was, it would be good.
Airspace Over the Desert
Hollister looked at his wristwatch one last time. The flight into the dusty little airstrip had been uneventful. Uneventful if he’d been able to concentrate on what he needed to accomplish over the next few hours. Unfortunately his mind had been firmly lodged on one headstrong and beautiful young woman he’d left behind in London.
Did Maggie know he was out in the field? He wondered if she’d be concerned for him. Or would she just be glad he was out of her life. He was afraid it would be the latter of the two. He’d even thought about breaking every protocol he lived by and phoning her to apologize and tell her he’d be out of country. In the end, he couldn’t convince himself to make the call. It was not so much that he didn’t want her to know where he was. No, that wasn’t it. The calculated risk of a civilian knowing anything about this particular mission was low. Especially someone like Maggie who would never publicize anything to do with Montana Miracles and the lifesaving efforts being made by the men who made working for the organization their life’s work. Maggie Ferguson wouldn’t leak any information.
The real struggle he was having had to do with how she would feel. Would she be consumed with worry or anxiety on his behalf? Did she care for him still? If she did, Hollister wouldn’t do anything to make her life harder. If the mission went sideways, and it easily could, he didn’t want her to grieve for him. In life, he’d made his choices. And one of them had been not to cause her additional emotional turmoil. She’d had enough pain in her young life. He’d not cause her more. Even if it was eating him alive not to tell her goodbye.
“Two minutes, Top,” the pilot’s voice was a metallic drone over the headset Hollister wore.
The big, quiet man nodded and mechanically checked each of his weapons and all his battle gear. He made a hand signal to the three other men in the belly of the light cargo plane with him. The aircraft was ugly and it was old. But it was reliable and it could transport the numbers of women and children they were hoping to rescue.
Seconds later, the landing gear hit sand and plowed deep as it rolled onto the makeshift landing strip. Hollister waited to see if they would draw fire from any nearby terrorist soldiers. All was quiet. With a single nod of his head, he ordered the door to be wretched open. One of his operatives jerked up a safety lever on the door and shoved hard. A burning shaft of desert sunlight arched through the plane’s dark interior. Before they set foot onto the burning sand, a hail of small arms fire tore through the belly of the aircraft.
Hollister watched one of his men fall through the open door. A crimson stain of blood stained the man’s combat jacket. Setting his teeth, Hollister was the next man through the door. His automatic rifle spat rapid, deadly fire as he laid down cover for the rest of his men. He felt the sting of the first bullet as it tore through his shoulder. After that muscle memory and sheer determination took over. His last rational thought was that he wished he’d told Maggie goodbye.
London
After that midnight prayer, Maggie’s days at the urban mission passed quickly. She enjoyed working with the children and she formed a close friendship with Jane. Jane was always ready to be Maggie’s guide through London. They enjoyed exploring gardens, museums, and cathedrals. Jane had seen them many times before. But she was good-natured about helping her new American friend learn about British culture. And Maggie shared her recipe for Red Bean Pie with her new friend. It was a big hit at the mission house and became a favorite tea time treat.
So it was no surprise, that when Maggie’s time at the mission was coming to a close, she invited Jane to return to Montana with her to enjoy an American holiday. Jane was surprised, but very happy to go.
Two days before she was scheduled to return home, Maggie received an urgent phone call.
“Hello?” she said into her cellphone.
“Maggie, I can’t go,” wailed a distraught Jane.
“Why not?”
“There’s an issue. A family emergency.”
“I’m so sorry,” Maggie said. “Is there anything I can do to help?”
“I don’t think so. It’s my sister. She overdosed last night,” the girl moaned.
“Is she alright?” Maggie knew it was a foolish question as soon as it flew out of her mouth. Of course Jane’s poor sister wasn’t alright. She heard sniffling on the other end of the line. “How can I help?”
“Could you go by my flat and pick up some clothes for me?” bleated Jane. “Fiona’s in Intensive Care, and I can’t break away to fetch them.”
“Fiona?” Maggie had a sinking feeling in the pit of her stomach.
“Yes, Fiona is my half-sister. We share the same mum.”
“What’s her surname,” asked Maggie, but somehow she already knew the answer.
“What?” Jane asked confused.
“I just wanted to know your sister’s surname. It will make it easier to find you in the hospital.” It was the truth though Maggie was ashamed she used such a ploy.
“Oh,” Jane replied as if what her friend said made sense. “Her name’s Fiona Cooper. We’re at St Bart’s. Her father owns the big department stores. You know, Coopers?”
“Yes, I know,” Maggie said. She looked heavenward for help, got none, and then decided to do everything she could for her new friend. “Don’t worry, I’ll go by your flat and get some things for you. Is the key still in the flower pot by the door?”
“It is,” Jane said. “Thank you so much, Maggie. You are a true friend.” She ended the call.
Maggie sat on her bed a moment to catch her breath. What was God up to now, she wondered?
St. Bart’s Hospital
“Maggie, you’re a lifesaver!” Jane said as she took the bag of clothing from her friend.
It was almost eventide. A pretty sky tinged with pink and mauve shown through the massive open windows of the hospital’s lobby. People filled the space. Some were crying. Others sat silently staring at nothing. A toddler, not knowing the kind of place she was in, chortled in delight from a spot on her sorrowing father’s lap. Maggie had the overwhelming feeling everyone in this place needed prayer and solace.
“I was glad to help. Is there anything else I can do for you?” she asked in way that communicated she actually did want to help.
Jane bit her lip once more. Her face was pale and drawn. Her hair was flat and heavy upon her head as if she’d slept in a chair. Her nails were bitten to the quick and bloody because of the abuse.
“I hate to ask,” she began apologetically. “You’ve already done so much.
“I’ve done nothing,” Maggie assured her with a kind smile. “And I do want to help. You’ve done so much for me while I’ve been in London. Can’t I return the favor?”
Jane nodded relieved. “I should break away for just a few minutes to call Fiona’s father.”
“He’s not here?” Maggie knew she’d not kept the surprise from her voice. And she was sorry for that. In Montana family was paramo
unt. If anybody was in the hospital their whole clan would be in the waiting room. That was just the way folks felt about kinship. Apparently, it was not the same in the metropolis of London.
“No.” Jane didn’t elaborate.
Maggie reached out and patted a comforting hand on Jane’s arm. “Don’t you worry. Just tell me where the waiting room is and I’ll go on up.”
“Fiona’s out of danger so they’ve given her a room. It’s 506. She should still be asleep. If you can just sit with her until I make my call, I’d appreciate it.”
“I’ll be glad to.” Maggie turned to go over to a bank of nearby elevators. Jane’s next words stopped her.
“I just wish she hadn’t taken such drastic measures. No man is worth dying over.”
Maggie’s feet froze to the floor. She didn’t really want to hear what Jane would say next. But she knew she had no choice. So she turned and walked back to her distraught friend. When she was a few feet away she saw how truly upset Jane was.
“If she’d just waited a few days, I know he’d be back in London. It isn’t as if he doesn’t do this kind of thing all the time. Their whole engagement has been carried on long distance.”
“I beg your pardon?” Maggie asked with a certain amount of real dread.
“Her fiancé, Lord Hollister dropped out of sight, again. This time he’s been gone for a few months.”
“Lord Hollister?” asked Maggie in a whisper.
She’d known Hollister was a member of the British aristocracy. But hearing his title spoken aloud was sobering. Now she realized both his manner and his accent had been different the last time she’d seen him. He’d been much more earl than cowboy at the pub that last night. His deep, laconic speech had switched several times to the more clipped accents of the English upper class. Yes, she could see him as an earl. He certainly possessed the manner and command of a lord. At least he had the last time she’d spoken with him.
“Surely you know of him,” Jane said. “Or you haven’t. He’s the handsomest man in the gossip mags. And being a belted earl does him no harm either. Now that I think on it, I guess your tabloids in America report on the aristocracy like our scandal rags do. If it involves a royal or someone in their rarefied circle, it makes headlines. The Tatler is reporting that Lord Hollister boarded a private jet to parts unknown. He fled the city in the middle of the night. He’s been gone ever since. That’s why Fiona did such a foolish thing.”