Looking for Love

by Linda Mayes

  ***

  Grace was off the next two days. She took that opportunity to spend more time with her kids. She took them around Maggie’s property, exploring the outdoors. The little ones went on a treasure hunt and found a bucket full of treasure. Macy and Grace followed along, with Grace making the appropriate faces and noises as they showed her each one of their tweasures, as Brock called them.

  As they walked, Macy talked about all of the things she had been doing and discovering while they were at the ranch. The horses fascinated her, and it seemed that Luke, and John when he had the time, had been educating her about them. Grace was glad her daughter seemed to have found something in all of this upheaval that made her happy and excited.

  While the kids continued their exploration, Grace went back up to the house to make lunch. She put a pizza in the oven, and while it cooked, she straightened up the house. She had been meaning to put some of their things up in the small attic to make more room for them to live, so she decided to do that now.

  She took up three loads before the pizza was ready. The kids came in and ate, and after Grace had cleaned up the kitchen, she got back to work on clearing their space. When she got up to the attic this time, she needed to re-arrange things to make it all fit. Maggie had a few boxes and some bags of quilts in the space. Grace separated all of that from the things she had just brought up. As she was moving one of her mother’s boxes, the bottom of it came loose and Maggie’s things spilled out.

  Grace found another box that wasn’t quite full and began picking up the things that had fallen out and re-packed them. Grace noticed there were picture albums among the things and started flipping through them. The pictures were mostly of Grace as a baby and child. There were some of those awful school pictures at each awkward stage of her life, and a few photos of her and her mom. She was about to close one book when she spotted one of her dad holding her when she was very young. She smiled and traced the lines of his face with her finger. She still had a lot of mixed feelings about him. He had left her. Abandoned her to live with a mother who was emotionally unavailable, and for that, she didn’t think she could ever forgive him. She still wondered about him, though. Where was he now? Did he think about her? Did he have a new family after he left them? She sighed and closed the book. None of that would do her any good. He was gone and she was likely long forgotten.

  Grace reached for the last book still on the floor. She glanced at the cover and saw one word printed on it: Journal. She told herself to just put it in the box, but that old antagonist curiosity got the better of her. She opened the book. The pages were worn, and yellowed with age. The date on the inside corner of the book said 1981. She turned to the next page and there, in her mother’s hand, were the thoughts and dreams of a young woman. Private thoughts, Grace told herself. She should just close the book and put it away. As she told herself these things, she began reading the first page.

  New Journal, New Year: Maggie Newton 1981

  Sam was in town again this weekend. I told Mama and Daddy I was going to the carnival at the church with Ellen, but I met Sam at “our place” instead. He brought a picnic basket filled with yummy fruit and cheese. He had a music player and all of the cassettes that I had told him I liked, and we sat under the big tree on a blanket and ate our lunch while the music was playing. He held my hand and told me about the farm where he lives in Idaho. His Daddy lets Sam do all the buying for the place, so he gets to travel. He’s seen so much of the world, the United States, anyways. All I know is Belt. I’m not sure what Sam sees in me. He’s so handsome; I know he can have any girl. He seems to want to be here with me, though, so I’m going to enjoy it while it lasts.

  Grace smiled. It wasn’t often that she thought about her mother as a young woman. Reading this helped her remember that Maggie was just like any other woman—with hopes and big dreams for her future. She turned the page. The next entry was dated for three months later, and the pages in between looked like they had either been torn out, or fallen out. Grace read on.

  Well, I don’t think Sam will be coming around anymore. Daddy read my Journal; he tore out the pages and brought them to me at work. It was so embarrassing. Everyone at the Outlet heard him call me names, and tell me that if I got “knocked-up” by a traveling salesman, he and Mama wouldn’t want anything to do with me anymore. I told him it wasn’t like that. Sam and I were in love, and we were being careful. He said that a careful whore was the same as a knocked-up one, just without a kid. He threw the pages at me, and everyone in the store stopped what they were doing and watched me pick them up. The only one who tried to help was Matt. He came over and got on his knees next to me. He didn’t look at the papers as he picked them up; he just helped me, and then asked me what else I needed. I couldn’t stop crying, so I asked him if he could take me home. Old man Sykes wasn’t happy about it, but even he could see I was gonna be no good to anyone the rest of the day, so he told us to go on.

  I couldn’t face Daddy so I asked Matt to drop me at the Fork and I walked toward the Harwell place instead of home. I passed their house and their stables and I just kept walking. I was almost two miles out into the pasture when Mr. Harwell came by in his truck to see if I was okay. One of the ranch hands had seen me out in the cow pasture and called him. I told him I just needed some time alone and was out for a walk. He could tell it was more than that, I’m sure, but he didn’t ask no more questions. He gave me a ride home, and stayed and had a cup of coffee with Mama and Daddy. I’m going to sleep now, I hope tomorrow is a better day.

  Grace hadn’t known anything about her grandparents. Maggie had never talked about them. Her daddy had always said if his parents were still living, they would have spoiled her rotten. He had shown her pictures of her as a baby with them. They had both died young—his mother in a car accident, and his daddy a few years later of a heart attack. Grace had always just assumed her mother’s parents were both deceased too. Maggie would always change the subject if Grace brought them up, and if her daddy were around, he’d put his finger to his lips and shake his head behind Maggie’s back. Grace had figured that they had died and it made Maggie sad to talk about it. She turned the pages and skimmed through the next few. There was no more about Sam. Maggie was probably afraid her father would find it again. It was mostly fluff from there on; the type of things girls write when they know someone is reading their words.

  Grace closed it and wondered what had happened after that. Obviously Maggie assumed her father was still reading her journal. Grace felt a pang of sympathy for the young woman her mother once was. She also felt a pang of guilt for prying. She put Maggie’s things away and went back downstairs.