Watermarks

by Jarvis, J. L.

"You think you're so high and mighty." With one powerful arm, he hurled Maggie away. Her back hit the wall, dislodging pots and pans, which then fell with a raucous clanging. Maggie slid to the floor. Her mouth hung open in astonished helplessness. She could not inhale. She could not exhale. Beth dragged herself over to Maggie, but she was too weak and too slow to escape Hank as he turned to deliver the final outpouring of wrath. Once more, he covered Beth's mouth and nose, pinning her body down with his knee until she went limp.

  Chapter 11

  Maggie struggled to breathe. The door flew open. Jake looked about for the instant it took him to find Hank and bound over to wrench him off Beth.

  "Hank! What the hell are you doing?"

  Hank turned to strike Jake, but Jake landed a blow that sent Hank toppling clumsily to the floor. He quickly got back up and turned on Jake. He got one punch to Jake's jaw before Jake's brother, Will, arrived and joined in the struggle. Will was a year older, an inch shorter, with broad shoulders rock hard with muscle. It took both brothers' strength to restrain Hank. Whether from liquor or madness his strength was uncommon. Blows that would have stopped most men seemed only to slow Hank down. Together Jake and Will finally pounded the fury from Hank and dragged him outside. Once through the door, Hank turned and swung at Will. For his effort, he was met with Jake's fist at his jaw. It knocked him to the ground, where he remained unconscious.

  Will looked at Jake in disbelief as he smeared some blood from his upper lip. "Something's not right about that man."

  "That's no man." Jake forced the words out as he looked upon Hank with all the accumulated contempt he had tried to conceal for the sake of Maggie and Beth. He glanced toward the house, then down at Hank. "Keep an eye on him while I check inside."

  While Will kept watch, Jake dusted some dirt from his sleeves and walked up the steps, rubbing his knuckles. He glanced back one more time to be sure Hank was out. When the back door swung open, Maggie jolted to her feet. Seeing Jake, she relaxed and knelt back down beside Beth, and stroked her hair from her forehead. "It's only Jake. Shh..."

  "Where's Robin?" Beth asked in a raspy whisper.

  "She's fine. She's with my mother," said Jake from the doorway. He straddled the threshold, watching Hank from the corner of his eye. While Maggie ministered to Beth's injuries, his mind raced with thoughts of what to do next. He would need to send someone down the street to call the doctor, but first he must deal with Hank.

  Before Jake could suggest it, Maggie said, "Beth, let me get the doctor." She helped Beth to her feet and walked her over to the bench.

  "No." Beth eased herself carefully into a sitting position, trying not to wince, but looking all the more pained as a result of her efforts. "I'll be fine. There's nothing a doctor can do for me."

  Maggie hoped she was right. Although battered and bruised, Beth could move her arms and legs.

  "See? Nothings broken," said Beth. "I'll be fine."

  Maggie knew better than to argue with Beth. She could only look on with troubled regret, for events over which she had no control.

  Jake shifted his weight as he looked out at Will. Will smirked back and shook his head, then continued his watch over the unconscious Hank. What strange force of nature could have brought together so unlikely a pair as Hank and Beth? Beth was everything that was good about life. Yet out of goodness and trust, she had made a bad choice. And Maggie--Maggie was the core of what mattered in life. She was strength and passion. If Beth was the sea, then Maggie was the heat beneath the earth's surface: molten, intense, and entirely unaware of the damage she caused to his heart. A soft glance, a slight turn of the head, or a smile, and he ached to be with her.

  Maggie turned weary eyes to him. How he yearned to pull her away from this house and its violence and the strain it produced on her face. He would take her to rest in his arms and carry her burdens as his own--if she would let him. She was strong, but even the strong become weary. Just now, she let down her guard and allowed him a rare glimpse of weakness. It was simple and honest. He loved her more for it. Which of the two was more surprised by that moment, he could not have said.

  "Jake." Will's voice broke through.

  Jake looked out to see Hank stirring. He cast a reassuring look at Maggie, and then focused his mind on Hank and what had to be done.

  "Beth, a night in jail will calm him down and sober him up."

  Hank moaned and muttered something unintelligible while he tried to sit up. Something stopped him. It was Jake's boot on his chest. "Hey--" But the pain in his clouded head kept him from saying more.

  Jake's eyes narrowed as he looked into Hank's eyes. "Hank? You need to come with Will and me."

  Hank looked up at Jake with a vacant expression in his eyes. He was eerily calm.

  "We're taking you somewhere to sleep it off," said Jake.

  Hank sat passively. To Jake's surprise, rather than put up the fight he expected, Hank nodded his head in confused acquiescence.

  "Okay, then. Let's go." Jake helped Hank to his feet, still expecting a fight, yet getting none. By this time, Maggie had come to the door.

  Jake looked up at Maggie. "I'll be back in a while."

  She rushed to his side and whispered, "Where will you take him?"

  "Where you two will be safe, and he can sleep it off."

  "Jail," said Will.

  Hank was unusually docile as Jake and Will led him around to the front of the house. Jake could not help but wonder if the man didn't have a conscience, after all--not that he trusted in that.

  "Now don't make a scene, or I promise you'll be sorry." Jake looked about the neighborhood. He did not want to subject Beth and Maggie to prying questions from inquisitive neighbors. Fortunately, the neighborhood was deserted except for a drifter who sat leaning against a tree some way down the street.

  With Hank gone, Beth wished she could cry away what gnawed at her heart. Instead, she went numb. Maggie brought her a cold cloth to put on her forehead, and then began to pick up the clutter from the kitchen. She put on a kettle of water for tea, and then sat down with Beth. "What happened?"

  "I don't know."

  "You don't know what happened?"

  "I was teaching Robin how to cross stitch. I was looking at Robin's stitches--telling her you have to do them the same way each time so the crosses look even on the front and the back. You know how sometimes it'll look okay on the outside, but be a tangled mess on the inside. Then Hank walked in."

  Maggie watched with patient concern as Beth recounted the scene with unnatural calm.

  "Hank said, 'Beth, come here.'"

  "Just a minute. I just need to untangle these threads."

  "I said come here. That means now."

  Beth looked at Maggie. "I should have known from the look in his eyes. He has a look. I can usually tell. I don't know why I didn't see it."

  Maggie put her hand on Beth's shoulder, and then got up to take the tea kettle off the stove. She poured a cup as Beth continued.

  "That's all he said, really."

  Maggie set down a cup of tea on the table in front of Beth, who seemed not to notice it.

  "I was setting down the cross stitching when he came up behind me and pulled me onto the floor." Beth looked blankly ahead.

  Maggie stared at the steaming cup.

  Beth said, "I'm tired. I think I'll lie down for a bit." Beth looked at her sister with watery eyes in an expressionless face.

  Maggie took her upstairs. She wished she could sleep now. Unlike Beth, worries cost Maggie sleep. She would be up tonight, mulling over the things that she could not control. She returned to the kitchen and poured another cup of coffee.

  She thought back to when it all went so terribly wrong. Beth married shortly before her parents died. Although Hank's behavior began almost immediately after the marriage, Beth kept it hidden. Perhaps she had not wanted to burden her parents, but she hid it even from Maggie. Why she did, Maggie could only try to imagine. It was not until Hank lost his job and they were evict
ed from their home that Beth came to Maggie for help. Their parents were gone by then. Robin was a baby, only a few months old. They moved in with Maggie and things seemed to get better with Hank. Jake helped him get a job at the steel mill. But Hank still had his dark times. Beth learned to work around them. Maggie learned to avoid him.

  At first Maggie admired Beth for her tireless faith. But she watched as Beth put all her faith in prayer, but none in herself. If only Beth had enough faith in her own power to take action and leave this man who caused her nothing but pain. She was afraid Beth put too much stock in concepts like "for better, for worse." What bothered Maggie most of all was that she had become an unwilling participant. By allowing Hank to remain in her home, she allowed Beth to be hurt. At first it had been mostly emotional, but in the past year or so, as his drinking increased, it became increasingly physical.

  The house was quiet when Maggie heard Jake's feet on the back porch steps. Before she could peek through the window, he said, "It's me, Maggie." She opened the door and stepped aside in a silent invitation. "I'll get you some coffee."

  He took a seat at the kitchen table, while Maggie reached for the coffeepot, then stopped and turned to Jake. She did not know how clearly her face showed the feelings she struggled to express with words. "You're always there for me--for us."

  "Maggie." Jake looked at her as though his heart might break with longing. But the moment passed, and he turned away and stared into his coffee.

  There was never a time when Maggie had wanted Jake's arms about her as much as she did at this moment. She was tired of being strong and capable. For once, she wanted to let go. And Jake was there, as he always was when she needed him most.

  Jake was explaining how they had taken Hank to the jail. He was being held for the night for disorderly conduct, but that was about all that could be done. Robin would spend the night at Jake's, with his younger brothers and sisters. Everything was taken care of.

  That was one of the things Jake did well. He took care of things. Maggie looked at him, solid and sturdy. The familiar pull to a safe shelter was so appealing for a young woman foundering in her own feelings. Jake knew everything about her, and yet he still cared. There he was, ready to shoulder the burden, when all she wanted to do was to hide. How easily she could lose herself in his arms, secure in the knowledge that he would take care of her.

  But she didn't want that, not really. Why would she have such thoughts when she'd just spent the day with Andrew? Andrew was everything she had always wanted. He was rich and romantic--dazzling. It was Andrew she loved. Of that she was sure.

  Jake was...just Jake. He was solid. Everything was so clear for him, and that clouded her mind. His directness unsettled her. He had this way of looking at her that made her heart tremble.

  Maggie shivered. Jake wrapped her in a throw blanket and brought her over to the hearth.

  While he built a fire, she watched him. Hunched over, arranging the kindling, his back looked even broader, more muscular. Hard work had shaped his flesh and backbone, and nearly broken it. His hands were rough. But as she watched those strong hands at work building a fire, she wished those hands would touch her. Now. As if he could hear her thoughts, Jake glanced back at Maggie and flashed a reassuring grin with that squint that was almost a wink. Why did that affect her so? And after all these years? She had known him so long that she took for granted his strength, and the depth of his character. Work at the steel mill wrenched the humanity out of most men, but not Jake. It may have shaped his body, but it had not broken his spirit. Beneath his gentle warmth he was stronger than steel.

  A hand stroked her hair. Maggie awoke to find herself curled up on the kitchen bench, resting in a pair of strong arms. She opened her eyes and saw Jake gazing down at her with unguarded eyes. Then she remembered what had happened the night before. She tried to sit up but her head was pounding.

  Jake held her down gently. "Take it easy. Everything's fine."

  She combed her fingers through her hair. She was weary and groggy and did not want to lose the dream she'd awoken with, safe in his arms.

  Jake explained, "Just lie back and listen. When Beth wakes up, she'll need to decide what to do with Hank. If you want, I can go down to the jail and keep him away from here."

  "No." It was Beth. She stood in the doorway. "He's my husband. He belongs with his family."

  Maggie sat up and turned to Beth.

  He said gently, "Sit down, Beth. Let's talk about this."

  "There's nothing to talk about." Beth leaned against the counter, and became absorbed with its surface, first dusting it off with her fingertips, then grabbing a rag and wiping it clean.

  "So you're going to bring him back home--just like that?" Maggie was sitting up, clutching the blanket. She could barely contain herself.

  Beth continued to find undiscovered dust on the icebox, the stove, and the windowsills. Maggie looked from her sister to Jake and felt helpless. He walked over to Beth while she continued to clean, and he touched her shoulder. She flinched.

  Jake took a step back. "Beth, what if I'm not around. What happens the next time?"

  Jake's words surprised Maggie. The thought of Jake not being around here had never occurred to her. Of course he might not always be here. He could leave. People left.

  Beth's voice was quiet but firm. "My mind is made up." She left the room.

  Beth's decision did not surprise Maggie. They'd been through this before. She sighed and turned back to Jake. With no warning her eyes filled with tears, and her throat ached too much to speak. "Tell Will thank you. And you--thank you isn't enough. I don't know--"

  "Shh--" Jake shook his head with a hint of a frown. He reached out his hand to her shoulder, and she sank against his chest with a sob. He held her in his arms and let her weep until all of her pent up troubles and worries had melted against him. All the while he smoothed her hair from her face and her neck, and he soothed all of her sorrow and some of his own.

  When the last tear was shed, Maggie sniffed and then snorted and smiled, embarrassed by the sound. With half a grin that faded, Jake pulled out a handkerchief and wiped off her tears and her nose. She lifted her eyes, which were open and trusting, and she saw that Jake's cheek was still wet with her tears. She reached out her fingers to wipe it dry, but his eyes closed as if her touch pained him. He grabbed hold of her hand and held it there, to his cheek. His lips sought her hand and barely touched her palm, and then he opened his eyes to meet hers.

  Maggie, dazed from fatigue, found herself full of longing. He seemed like a dream, or a stranger.

  Abruptly, he let her hand go, and it hung in the air for a moment. Jake strode to the back door and muttered goodbye. The door shut behind him.

  Chapter 12

  "Tired?" Charles Adair looked up over his reading glasses at his wife, who set down her book with a sigh and watched the summer rain drizzle down the parlor window.

  "No. I was thinking about Andrew."

  "Mm-hmm." Charles returned to his reading.

  "What do you think of his young lady friend?"

  Charles glanced up from his book. "She's very pretty."

  "Yes, but did you notice how he looks at her?"

  "Like a young man looks at a pretty girl?"

  "No. There's more to it than that, I'm afraid."

  "Oh, I wouldn't worry." Charles returned to his reading with a rustle.

  "Well, I would. What if it gets serious?"

  Charles lowered his newspaper and stared over his glasses. "Now, what makes you think it will get serious?"

  "I don't know. A feeling."

  "Well, my feeling is that he is a young man who is enjoying life while he can."

  "And exactly what's that supposed to mean?" Lillian's concern for Andrew was replaced by annoyance.

  He grinned sheepishly. "Not everyone is fortunate enough to find a wife as lovely and agreeable as mine."

  Lillian leveled a skeptical look toward her husband. "What a nice sentiment, Charles--
eloquent, yet so endearingly void of sincerity." She smiled sweetly.

  Charles buried his head in his newspaper and grinned. "Lillian, you're far too good for me."

  "Yes, I know. Which brings me back to my point. This girl, Maggie, is entirely unsuitable for Andrew."

  "Not to worry, Lillian. Nothing will come of it."

  "How do you know that?"

  "Because, we'll make certain of it."

  Lillian stood and walked over to the window. "It would break my heart to see Andrew marry beneath him." "To build social standing takes generations--"

  "And money."

  "And it takes so little to tear it down." She cast a concerned look toward her husband, clearly annoyed by his glib attitude.

  Charles gave Lillian a reassuring look. "You worry too much. Just leave it to me."

  Lillian looked out the window at the misting sky and said no more.

  It was dusk when Beth approached the large tent. Hank had refused to go, and Robin was too young to appreciate it. So Beth came by herself, as she often did. Tent revivals came through town quite often. Beth had always hoped that one day Hank might come and be transformed into the good man she wished he could be. It would take such a miracle.

  Already alive with activity, hymn singing filled the air as everyone sang, some in their own key, and the ruddy faced organist pumped the bellows of the portable organ with her feet.

  I've got peace like a river,

  I've got peace like a river,

  I've got peace like a river in my soul.

  I've got peace like a river,

  I've got peace like a river,

  I've got peace like a river in my soul.

  With each successive verse, Beth felt her tension and worries subside. Unlike many of the other worshippers, Beth remained tranquil. Life had nearly drained her of the ability to exhibit enthusiasm, even at those rare times when she felt it. Although she lacked the appearance of exultation, she began to feel the peace of which they sang. It was so often missing in her everyday life.