by Jill Metcalf
“You didn’t suffer,” she interrupted with accusation in her tone.
Hunter shook his head in dismay, continuing to be patient, understanding the confusion and the beginnings of panic that were building within her.
“I was fortunately, love. I had a small inheritance given me by my father. English funds he chose not to withhold until his death. That saved me. But Treemont has had to struggle up from the ashes of war. The losses have been considerable. It took near genius to keep Treemont going this long. You’ve noticed yourself that there are fewer people to keep the place going and with fewer hands, fewer fields have been planted and less income from harvests. Even the main house needs attention.”
“What can we do?” she asked, accepting the truth as he presented it, for she knew in every fiber of her being that he would not have told her these things unless he was absolutely certain of the situation and he had absolutely no choice in the matter. They had been through so much, the girls and she, and Hunter had stood beside them…now, it seemed, there was more.
Hunter hugged her for reassurance and whispered against her hair, “We’ll find a way, Maggie,” he said. “I’ll go into town and see the bankers. Together we’ll determine the exact amount of the debt, and from there we’ll see what must be done.”
“Hunter, will we have to leave here soon?”
“No. We have time,” he said quickly. “Jason will mind the place for us while we decide what our next steps should be. But, Maggie,” he continued softly, “I don’t think we should tell the others. Florence and Jennifer are so young to be dealing with the concerns they are already experiencing. And this would be completely beyond them in any event. And Denise deserves as many happy moments as we can give her here at Treemont before she weds and moves away. Let’s keep this between us for now, shall we?”
Maggie knew he was right. Her sisters were younger and did not deserve any further burdens…and she didn’t either, for that matter. She gripped his arm harder and pressed it into her midriff. Hadn’t there been enough trouble? Where was it all to end? Would Treemont be lost to them forever? “I want to go with you when you see the bankers,” she said quietly. “I may not understand everything that has gone on in the past, but I need to be there to discuss the future.”
Hunter did not hesitate in responding. “All right, my love.”
CHAPTER 25
The wedding of Denise Downing and Tim Fletcher was a quiet affair with only immediate families present.
Maggie did not cry, as Florence and Jennifer did, when Denise was preparing to ride away to her new home; she simply held her sister close and whispered, “Be as happy as I am.”
And while the statement was not a total truth, neither was it a total lie. The only flaw in Maggie’s life were her concerns over Treemont. Certainly she was happy being the wife of Hunter Maguire; as each day passed she found herself more deeply in love and more spellbound by him. He never failed to woo her at every turn, no matter who might be present, within the realm of propriety, of course. Florence and Jennifer frequently saw Hunter touching or lightly kissing their sister, an occurrence that caused Florence to blush deeply and Jennifer to wrinkle her nose in disgust.
“Don’t you get sick of kissin’ her?” she asked one evening as she came upon them sitting together on the settee in the parlor.
Hunter smiled, folding Maggie back against his chest and within his arms. “No,” he said simply.
“But that’s all you ever do,” she accused, walking close and leaning both hands, elbows locked, on the arm of the settee next to Hunter.
“That is not all we ever do,” he returned.
Jennifer made a sound that was reminiscent of a grunting piglet. “Well, you do it a lot. And touching, too.”
Maggie had worried about the thoughts of girls so young, but Hunter had insisted that they should not be deprived of a loving environment. And he was not about to peer around corners each time he wanted to demonstrate a little affection for his own wife.
“I touch you,” he said quietly to Jennifer, as he looked into her lustrous brown eyes. “In a different way, it’s true, but I touch you. Don’t you like it?”
Jennifer thought about that, scraping a thumbnail along a groove in the wood beneath her hand until Hunter captured her fingers with his own.
“Don’t you?” he prompted.
She raised her eyes slowly to his. “I guess.”
“I touch people because I like them or love them. It’s a good thing, don’t you think?”
“I guess,” she repeated, a bit shyly this time.
“I love your sister and she loves me. That’s why we touch and kiss sometimes. One day you’ll like it, too.”
“No, I won’t,” she returned firmly.
Hunter laughed. “I’ll check back with you on that in about ten years.”
Jennifer made a face of disbelief, and Hunter tugged her down next to them while Maggie smiled.
Yes, she was happy with the loving ways of her man.
But the fear of losing Treemont was a silent torture within her heart.
*
Hunter wrote to Jason with two requests. He explained the first request to Maggie, and although she objected strenuously at first, she eventually saw the merit of what he was doing. Jason would send funds, which Hunter would infuse into Treemont. That would buy them time into the New Year. At that point he knew, but did not state, they might be forced to make some hard decisions.
Maggie’s appreciation was boundless, along with her love.
Hunter did not tell her about his second request.
*
The early weeks of December provided much needed distraction for them all as they fell to work in preparation for their first Christmas in town. Denise and Tim had persuaded Maggie and Hunter and the girls to spend Christmas with them, away from Treemont and the memories of the senior Downings who were no longer there to share the season.
Maggie agreed for the sake of Florence and Jennifer.
Hunter agreed for the sake of Maggie.
His lovely wife and been drawn and tired of late, working to keep the house neat and clean with only the girls to help, when they were not in school. And cooking was a chore for them all, although Hunter was the more proficient and was teaching them. Some passable meals were coming out of the kitchen, but not many.
Maggie had set Florence and Jennifer to work making gifts for the Fletchers and, most particularly, for their hostess. The four of them would be staying in the senior Fletcher’s guesthouse over the holidays. They would give Mrs. Fletcher a gaily decorated pine wreath adorned with ribbons and berries and Hunter had helped the girls make a pipe stand for Tim’s father.
During the evenings Maggie fashioned and re-fashioned some of her cast-off clothing into new dresses for her younger sisters. One thing Hunter could not deny; his Maggie was a wizard with needle and thread.
One blustery mid-December evening, after Florence and Jennifer had disappeared to their room, Hunter and Maggie sat before a roaring fire in Alastair’s office. Looking away from the book in his hand, Hunter watched her slim fingers push and pull the needle until finally he reached out and took her hand in his. “Your fingers must ache with all this sewing,” he said, turning her palm up.
“I get dents,” she responded, not unhappily as he examined the red ridges in the pads of her fingers.
His eyes moved to her face, and he frowned. “You look so tired, Maggie,” he said. “I’m worried about you. Why not put your work away for tonight.”
‘Soon,” she said, withdrawing her hand reluctantly and returning to her task.
“I’ve got a small gift for the girls,” he said abruptly and Maggie’s head snapped around.
“We said we wouldn’t buy gifts, Hunter.”
“Small and alive,” he teased. “And I’m not at all certain the Fletchers will appreciate having it around for the holidays.”
Maggie laughed then. “What on earth did you get them?”
“I don’t believe I’ll tell you, either. I’ll make it a family surprise.”
“Is it furry?” she asked, moving closer to his side.
“Well, it has hair, I suppose,” he hedged and watched her moving in.
“Most babies don't,” she stated bluntly.
Hunter looked baffled. “Babies don’t what?”
“Have hair.”
“What has that got to do with anything?” His brows arched upward in confusion as she now leaned against him.
“Did you get them a kitten?” she asked.
Hunter cupped her chin in the palm of his hand, raising her face so that he could look into her eyes. “A pup,” he said absently. “What is this talk about babies?”
“Just an observation,” she said, smiling. “Most are quite bald, don’t you think?”
“I think you are toying with me,” he mused. “I think you are trying to tell me something.” His hand stroked her cheek while the rate of his heartbeat increased frantically.
Maggie could see him mentally counting backward.
“I think you might be pregnant,” he said at last.
“…might be,” she returned, grinning widely now.
Hunter’s eyes lit up like a flash of sulfur. “Oh, Maggie,” he breathed, ducking his head to offer a brief kiss. “It would be wonderful…but it’s too soon, isn’t it? I mean…we can’t be sure yet?”
One thing about being extremely intimate with one’s husband, Maggie thought, was that he did not miss much. And she found she could still blush with him. “But we can hope, can’t we? It has been quite a while, and there are other signs.”
“Really?” he asked enthusiastically. “What?”
Maggie’s color heightened even more and he laughed at her.
“Foolish woman,” he admonished lightly. “What signs, Maggie?”
“I get a queasy feeling sometimes,” she admitted, “and my breasts feel different.”
His eyes dropped quite naturally to the bodice of her gown and his hand moved to touch her gently. “They don’t hurt, do they, little one?” The thought of her in pain positively jangled his nerves.
She laughed and threw her arms around his neck, hugging his fiercely as she pressed her cheek against his. “I think I might be expecting your baby, Hunter Maguire,” she said in a small voice that was filled with hope and excitement.
And for the first time, of all the times she had thought about having a child, she realized that their baby might never see the place where she had been born and raised.
Perhaps Treemont could not be saved.
On the heels of that thought, Maggie realized she had found another haven and that haven was Hunter Maguire and the children he would give her. Treemont was a place she loved but it was, after all a place. Hunter and the love they shared was her very life’s support.
CHAPTER 26
The holidays proved to be difficult despite the Fletchers’ best efforts. Christmas celebrations without Alastair were simply too painful, and Maggie found herself wishing the holidays behind her.
Between Christmas and the New Year Hunter forced himself and the two remaining stable hands into long hours of hard labor. They began by erecting new paddocks, and he drew up plans for a second stable. Maggie watched all this activity with growing curiosity, but Hunter remained steadfastly closemouthed about what he was doing.
They were absolutely certain now that Maggie was pregnant, and as Hunter washed up for lunch one day in the warm, cozy kitchen, he broached the subject of telling Florence and Jennifer that they would be aunts come summer.
“It’s hardly a subject one talks about openly,” Maggie said primly.
Hunter turned toward her as he dried his hands. “It’s hardly a thing we have to hide in shame, Maggie,” he said logically.
“Well, of course not,” she returned, her eyes widening at the very idea.
“Do you want to wait until the girls begin to eye your growing figure with curiosity? They are your sisters, love. Don’t you think they have a right to know, and to hear it from us?”
“It’s…just…”
He laughed, wrapping his arms loosely around her. “You’re embarrassed!” He kissed the tip of her nose. “Silly, chit. I do love you, Maggie,” he added lightly.
Her brows arched worriedly as she frowned up at him. “They’re so young.”
“Not so young anymore, darling. And the mention of babies will not be totally strange to them. They live on a farm after all…they’ve seen all kinds of four-legged babies here.”
Maggie rested her forehead on his chest. “Jen will ask a thousand questions,” she groaned.
“Then we shall answer them.”
“We?” she questioned, looking up at him again. “You mean me. I know you do.”
Hunter shook his head. “I won’t abandon you when the time comes if you need me there.”
But the experience was relatively painless for Maggie. Florence smiled and blushed and Jennifer grinned, kissed Maggie’s cheek, and went on her merry way.
Over the next few weeks Maggie’s condition began to show just a bit and Hunter watched her carefully. He insisted she was not to lift anything heavier than her hairbrush…and she obeyed, as long as he wasn’t looking. However, that was not often and Maggie found he was forever getting in her way as his hands magically appeared to bear any greater loads. Frankly, it was beginning to drive her crazy. She could hardly object, however, for not too many months ago Maggie would never have dreamed of being the recipient of such loving. Hunter seemed to have boundless energy when it came to so many things.
Maggie’s nature took on a decidedly domestic cast as she discovered newfound pleasures in providing small comforts for those she loved.
Hunter was off working and Maggie was attempting to make an apple pie one day in March when she heard footfalls on the porch near rear kitchen door. Turning, she opened her mouth in amazement when she saw a familiar face just beyond the window pane in the door.
“Jeffrey,” she called excitedly, smiling as she wiped her hands on her apron and rushed across the room to greet Jeffrey Winter. “Come in,” she said happily, hurriedly opening the door. “I’m so happy to see you.”
The man with the shy brown eyes ducked his head in greeting. “Wasn’t sure I had the right place,” he said. Maggie reached up to offer a welcoming hug, whether he wanted one or not.
A yellow pup raced through the door, whined and then barked until finally Maggie tried to hush him.
“Who’s this?” Jeffrey asked, squatting down to make friends with the animal.
“Mr. Finnegan,” Maggie stated and laughed when Jeffrey’s head snapped up, questioning the probability of the name. “My younger sisters named him.”
“He’s a cute one,” he said shyly.
“Give me your coat,” she said. “Sit while I get you some coffee. What are you doing here? How is Marie-Louise?”
“I’ll be glad for some coffee in a minute or two. But first I need you to come outside with me for a minute.” Jeffrey turned toward the door again.
Maggie steep out onto the porch behind him, Mr. Finnegan running at her heels.
“You brought Pride,” she cried unnecessarily, as the stallion was standing before her. “Why?”
“That’s what Mr. Maguire wanted,” Jeffrey explained as he walked around to the far side of the wagon. “I’ve brought something else as well,” he said.
Maggie’s curiosity peaked to the point she could no longer remain on the porch. Following Jeffrey, she rounded one end of the wagon. There, knees bent as much as possible given her condition, and giggling into her hands, was Marie-Louise.
“I don’t believe it,” Maggie crowed. “How could you come all this way in your condition?” But she couldn’t wait for an answer as Jeffrey helped his young wife to the ground. Maggie was upon the younger woman and they were hugging each other fiercely, even as they laughed for the pure joy of being together again.
“The trip proved easy,”
Marie-Louise said as she drew back, wiping her teary eyes with one hand and holding tight to Maggie’s hand with the other. “Jeffrey took good care of me and it was snug and cozy sleeping together under the canvas covering the wagon.”
“You two had best get inside out of the cold,” Jeffrey said sensibly. “I’ll take the animals to the barn.”
“You’ll find Hunter there,” Maggie called as she led her friend up the steps and into the house. Then she turned on Marie-Louise again. “I am so happy to see you,” she exclaimed. “I’ve thought about you so often.”
“Me too,” the younger woman said as she struggled out of her heavy coat. And that was when she first looked down at Maggie. “Oh, my God,” she breathed, her eyes widening. “Are you?”
Maggie nodded happily, her hands automatically dropping to her stomach. “I’m only just beginning to show.”
Marie-Louise laughed at that and dropped her coat on the floor. Maggie gaped at the size of her. “Wait until you catch up to me,” she crowed, smoothing her grown over her enormous belly “Mind you, I’ve only got a couple of months to go.”
Mr. Finnegan was whining and sniffing around the coat on the floor. Marie-Louise smiled down at the pup. “Cute,” she said. “I’d scratch his ears but bending over that far is impossible.”
Maggie laughed and retrieved the coat. “Come in and sit. I’ll make you some tea.”
Maggie hung the coat on a peg near the door, filled the teakettle with water and set it on the stove. She turned as her friend was easing onto a wood chair. “Have you been well, Marie-Louise?” she asked. “You look wonderful”
The younger woman laughed. “I look like the cow that wandered into the alfalfa,” she returned lightly. “Bloated. But I've been very well and I feel good.”
“I’m glad.” Maggie joined Marie-Louise at the table and sat in a chair opposite. “But you came all this way just to bring Pride to us? That’s too tiring a trip…”