by Grace Walton
“Committing suicide is more than foolish,” Maggie murmured. Her head was still spinning with all she was trying to process.
“Of course it is,” Jane exclaimed. “But poor Fiona is at her wit’s end. Her father is threatening to cut her off. And she has monumental debts. Why I don’t think she owns anything that isn’t bought on tick. Not even the designer clothes upon her back.”
“I thought she was rich,” Maggie protested.
“Her pompous toad of a father is rich. Fiona is just as poor as I am.”
“Then why doesn’t she have a job?”
“Oh, she has a job,” Jane said sadly. “Not one that I approve of, but it’s a means of making a living, I guess.”
“Oh?”
“Yes, she’s set her hooks into Lord Hollister. He’s to be her meal ticket. Once she’s married to him, she’ll gain her father’s approval. And he in turn, will shower her with assets that will keep her in diamonds and furs for the rest of her life.”
“She’s selling herself?” Maggie asked astounded.
Jane shrugged and nodded. “I imagine that’s one way to look at it.”
“Poor girl,” Maggie murmured.
Even though it was becoming apparent the woman in question had no true feelings for Hollister, Maggie was sorry Fiona felt she must go to such extremes to secure her future. She might not like the well-bred blonde, but marrying for money and position was little more than legal prostitution, as far as she was concerned.
“Yes, she is to be pitied, though I suppose most people don’t see it that way.”
“I’ll go up and sit with her while you speak to her father.”
Maggie’s mind was full of turmoil as she walked away. In her own way, Fiona was just as damaged as Maggie. It seemed the blonde lacked the love, security, and support that Maggie did. Maybe she could do something for the prickly Englishwoman.
The corridor was dimly lit. And there was the hush of sickness in the hall as Maggie went down its length. In a few minutes she was standing outside Fiona’s room. She took a deep breath and prayed before she entered.
“Lord, this is hard. I don’t like this woman. I don’t like anything about her. And I admit I’m jealous of her. I know I have no reason to think that Hollister could ever be mine. No matter how much I hoped he might turn to me, it’s plain he feels nothing for me but kindliness and pity. So help me, Lord. Please help me show Fiona your love. Help me do what I can to ease her sorrow. Give me the strength to put aside my selfish desires and see this woman like you see her.”
Setting her will, Maggie went into the room. Inside Fiona lay, pale and still, on the bed. Her torso was elevated. A machine recorded her vitals with a serious of soft beeps and whirs. Her hair looked limp and listless as it fell from her brow. Her lips, without their crimson stain, looked bloodless and thin. The bright red nail polish on her fingernails was chipped and looked tawdry. Maggie somehow felt she was seeing the real Fiona Cooper for the first time.
As she watched, the woman lying on the bed slowly opened her eyes. She blinked owlishly a few times. Then her gaze settled upon Maggie.
“I couldn’t even get dying right, could I?” Fiona said with dark gallows humor.
Maggie came closer. “Would you like some ice chips? I imagine your mouth is dry.”
As she said it, she remembered her own time in the hospital. After she’d been beaten and assaulted, she’d wanted to kill herself too. She was ashamed to think of that time now. The only thing that had stopped her, during that bleak hopeless period, was the fact that she’d been too physically weak to follow through on her intention. So now, seeing Fiona looking so small and sad on the hospital bed, Maggie felt only a flood of compassion. She’d been where this woman was. And she knew how badly a person could sink into an abyss of despair.
“Why are you here?” Fiona managed to croak. “Is Hollister back? Is he here with you?”
Maggie shook her head. “I didn’t even know he’d left.”
“But, but…” Fiona’s words were almost inaudible. She tried to move and instantly stopped. “I think I’m going to be sick,” she said.
Maggie rushed to give her a plastic bedpan. She pressed the button for a nurse. She rubbed Fiona’s back as the poor woman retched into the bedpan. In the matter of a few seconds a nurse bustled through the open door. She carefully nudged Maggie out of the way and began ministering to the poor sick woman.
When the vomiting came to an end, the nurse lifted a glass of water to Fiona’s lips. She pushed the damp, stringy blonde hair away from Fiona’s sweating face.
“Lady Cooper, you’ll need to be careful of your movements for an hour or so. The meds you were given to counteract the barbiturates you took have nasty side effects,” the woman said in a clinical voice.
Fiona managed to nod her understanding, though she didn’t try to speak. It seemed the bout of sickness had wrung the last bit of strength from her.
The nurse took the bedpan into the suite’s bathroom and rinsed it out. She placed it back on the bed within the blonde woman’s reach. She smiled at Maggie and spoke, “Give me a call if you need me.”
Maggie sat in the room’s only chair and waited for Fiona to speak. As the awkward minutes stretched out, she felt the need to talk. So, without having a clue as to what she would say, she began to speak.
“You’ll feel better in a few days,” she said.
Fiona frowned. She summoned up enough energy to respond. “How do you know how I feel? How could you know something like that? You’re young and beautiful and rich. Your life is perfect.”
The words weren’t accusatory. And they weren’t rife with her usual snobbery. Fiona was too broken for either.
Maggie reached over and grasped the woman’s clammy hand. “Appearances are not always what they seem. My life is far from perfect. I know how you feel because I’ve been where you are right now.”
“You tried to kill yourself?”
Maggie sensed now was not the time to hold onto her foolish pride. She needed to be completely honest with Fiona Cooper.
“No, I didn’t. But only because I was too physically injured to get it done. I wanted to die. It seemed like the only way to make the pain go away. I’m thinking that’s why you wanted to die last night.”
Fiona looked away. There was shame in the gesture. “I still want to die,” she confessed.
“Because Hollister left?”
The question was out of Maggie’s mouth before she could stop it. Then it was her turn to feel shame. She had no right to ask such personal questions. What was between Hollister and this woman was no concern of hers.
Fiona looked her square in the eyes. “That’s part of it.”
“You love him so much?”
A mirthless sound that might have been a chuckle emerged from Fiona’s dry, pale lips. “I don’t love anybody. I’m not capable of such emotion. No, I didn’t take a fistful of street drugs because I was in love.”
“Why then?”
“I’m just so tired of life. I can’t pay my bills. I can’t seem to get my father’s attention, unless I’m doing something so outrageous he jerks my leash. Nobody loves me. Nobody even likes me. I don’t even like me.” Her weak words petered off into nothingness.
“Then change,” Maggie said and surprised herself. She had no idea where the words came from.
“Have you changed, I mean, since you were in the hospital longing for death?”
It was a pointed query. One that was uncomfortable for Maggie to consider. But she felt compelled to answer Fiona honestly.
“Not as much as I should.”
“Tell me what you mean.”
Maggie settled back into the uncomfortable chair. She prayed silently. Then she opened her mouth. A short version of her testimony spilled out.
“A few years back I was beaten and assaulted by a man I thought cared for me. He broke several of my bones. And I have scars on my body to this day from what he did to me and from the surgeries th
at followed. He hurt me in ways that no woman should ever be hurt. I almost died.”
“I’m…I’m sorry,” Fiona said.
Her wan face looked sincere. So Maggie took a chance and told her more.
“I was sorry too. For a long, long time I was sorry for myself. I was angry. I was afraid. I was pitiful and defeated. And I was humiliated.”
“But you’re better now?”
Maggie nodded. “I am. But I’ve realized there are a few more things I need to do to be completely healed.”
“There are?” Fiona looked puzzled.
“Yes, there are. And I’m thinking you’re going to help me get through them.”
“Me?!” Fiona squeaked.
“You,” Maggie said and smiled. “How would you like to take an extended vacation to Montana?”
Chapter Nine
“You want that sweet?” asked the woman with the Maggie’s Coffee apron pulled tight around her lean frame.
Hollister looked carefully at the woman. “Fiona?” he asked stunned.
She flushed and kept her wary eyes trained on the cash register. “Hello, Hollister.”
“What are you doing here?” he demanded.
She looked nothing like the woman he’d once been involved with. This Fiona was not whipcord thin. Her hair was a soft natural shade of brown, and she wore almost no makeup. She was dressed in a modest white t-shirt, discount store jeans, and plain white sneakers. Her nails were short, unpolished, and very clean. But the biggest change of all was her demeanor. Gone was the haughty, arch look of superiority and disdain. Now Fiona Cooper seemed quiet, humble almost. He couldn’t quite fathom the change in her.
When she didn’t answer him, he barked another question at her, “Are you up to something devious?”
“That’s enough, Hollister,” said a calm voice he recognized behind him.
He should recognize Maggie’s low musical voice. He’d dreamed about it for the last six torturous months. There’d been a few times when he’d hallucinated about her. The memories had been the only thing that kept him alive.
“Welcome home,” Maggie said quietly.
She was having a hard time coming to grips with the changes in him. He was thinner. And his dark hair looked as if it had been bleached by the sun. There was a savage quality to his eyes. In some ways he looked more of a wild animal than a man.
“What’s she doing here?” he rasped out jerking his head towards a subdued Fiona.
“Why don’t you sit down, have a cup of coffee with me, and I’ll explain everything.”
Maggie placed a gentle hand on his arm. She felt the corded muscle under her fingers bunch and flex. With a gentle tug she led him to a corner booth in the small café.
It was late afternoon, the lunch crowd had dwindled down and the charming little place was almost empty. From the kitchen, sounds of clinking silverware and china drifted. Soothing contemporary Christian music played over discreet speakers set into the walls. The aroma of baking breads, pies, and pastries was heavy in the air.
Hollister tore his gaze from Maggie, though it was an almost impossible task. He was still half afraid this was another hallucination come to plague him. But his training trumped his insecurity. He made a visual sweep of the room. Just in case some hidden threat was waiting to spring out and harm Maggie.
The place was warm and cozy. It was decorated in a modern eclectic style that reminded him of a place he loved in Paris. It was welcoming but in no way dated. There were an abundance of beautiful plants. It gave the space an outdoor feel. There were spotless linen table cloths on every table. And they were quirky. Each table was different and so were all the chairs. The marble floor was made to look like it was covered in fanciful rugs, but they were actually mosaic inlays. Colorful modern art portraying Christian themes was hung on the walls. It was a small jewel of a place. And it had the stamp of Magnolia Ferguson written all over it.
He stood until she sat at the table. Then he lowered himself into his seat. He placed his back to the wall and his hand snaked around to the small gun he kept tucked in his waistband. Perhaps one day he would lose this abnormal vigilance. But it wouldn’t happen anytime soon. Not after what he’d recently been through.
“I wondered if you were hurt?” the young woman said. “It’s been so long this time. I wondered if you were in a hospital somewhere recuperating.”
Maggie seemed older, though he knew to the day her true age. As far as he was concerned, she was still almost a baby. Years too young for him in every way. At least that’s what he still told himself. But maybe that was just a convenient excuse. He didn’t know anymore. He didn’t know anything anymore except that he’d survived. He’d done what he’d had to do and he’d survived. Though there were nights when he often wondered if that was a good thing.
Her eyes were steady. They were kind. They were detached. And Hollister hated all three things. The Magnolia Ferguson he knew was spontaneous. She was headstrong. She was a hard woman to forget. But then some kid with an itch in his jeans had stolen her innocence and changed all that forever. The last time he’d seen her she’d been wary and damaged. She’d still been unforgettable, that would never change. But she’d been broken. He should know. It took a broken person to recognize another in the same condition.
The calm beautiful woman sitting opposite him now was self-possessed. She seemed at ease. She looked comfortable in her own skin. It appeared the six months he’d been buried in the sands of a terrorist stronghold had changed her as well as it had him.
“Were you hurt?” she asked directly.
He shrugged. She didn’t need to know what he’d been through. It was his burden to shoulder. Not anyone else’s.
“When Gage flew out last week in a panic, I knew something was wrong. But I prayed it didn’t have anything to do with you. I’ve worked hard at picturing you on some tropical island sitting with your feet in the sand.”
He snorted at the fanciful image. “There was sand,” he gritted out. “But no tropical paradise.”
She watched him carefully when Fiona walked over with a tray of coffee and sweets. “Thanks, Fee,” Maggie said as she smiled at the woman.
“I can stay… I can explain.” The older woman stumbled over the words.
“That’s OK, Fee. I got this,” Maggie said. “Why don’t you go help Dan get ready for tonight? He’s in my office.”
“Who’s Dan?” Hollister demanded.
Maggie pushed a small plate with a warm slice of Red Bean Pie over to him. A dollop of melting vanilla ice cream decorated the side of the small plate.
“Not that’s it’s any of your business, but Dan is the pastor of my church,” she said.
“What’s he doing in your office?”
Maggie ruthlessly got a gripe on her annoyance at his attitude. Even though now she knew he hadn’t just disappeared from her life months ago on a whim. She still ached when she thought of how easily this man had turned her carefully constructed emotional barriers into shambles. It was probably a good thing he’d barreled through her world with the finesses of a steamroller last year. He’d been part of the catalyst for her change. Well, that and facing the truth about what happens to your life when you hide from the truth.
“Dan is helping with an open mike testimony night we’re hosting tonight.”
“Testimony?”
“Hollister, I’d love to sit down with you some time and catch up. But right now, I’m very busy. We’ve only been open a month. Things are very hectic. If you can hold your interrogation to a minimum, I’ll give you the short version of why Fiona’s here. That is what you wanted to know, isn’t it?”
He took a huge gulp of the scalding brew. He didn’t even feel it burn down his throat. His mind was processing the fact that Maggie was sitting right there in front of him. His Maggie. It was a miracle, or a nightmare. It might go either way. If he lost his mind in front of her, she’d surely run screaming in the opposite direction. If Dan, this man she called so easily
by his first name, was interested in Maggie in any way other than a professional one, Hollister knew that would set him off as well. So he decided the safest thing to do was to nod and keep his mouth shut. Sometimes sanity was just a matter of silence. He’d learned as much recently.
“Fine,” Maggie sighed. She pushed a lock of hair back up into her messy bun. At the café she couldn’t let it loose like she liked to wear it these days. The health department had strict rules about restaurant workers.
“After Fee tried to kill herself.”
Hollister choked on his coffee. “What?” he thundered.
“You didn’t know she tried to commit suicide?” Maggie asked with a furrowed brow.
“No,” he said succinctly.
“OK, I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have sprung that on you. So… here’s what happened after you left London. Fiona took an overdose of street drugs. She was blessed because Harlow found her passed out in her flat. He got her to the hospital. They saved her life. It turns out one of the girls I was working with at the mission was Fee’s half-sister. She called me asking for help that night. I went to the hospital not knowing my friend Jane was related to Fee. When I saw Fee and faced the reality that I was going to need to get outside my comfort zone and face my new normal, God did something in me. And when I learned how much Fee and I have in common, I knew I had to bring her home with me.”
“You and Fiona Cooper have nothing in common,” he growled.
“Yeah, we do,” Maggie contradicted him.
“What? What could you possibly have in common with that woman? She’s avaricious, coldhearted, and the most selfish human I’ve ever met.”
“And yet, you were going to marry her?”
He scowled. “Not when I met you in London. That was all a lie she concocted. When I was with Fiona, I was just a kid, stupid and reckless. And that was a very long time ago. I’ve changed.”