by Lois Richer
Who, Grady asked himself as he let her lead him behind the curtains of the stage, could resist the woman? Not him, that was for sure.
He sat behind the curtain, waiting as he listened to Maggie try to bring order out of chaos. At last the group were singing merrily along to the chorus. Then Maggie began her segue into the puppet show. He’d heard her practicing it at home.
“Did you ever wonder about God?” There was a murmur of excitement throughout the room. “What kind of things do you wonder? Janice?”
“Is God really invisible, or is that just a trick?”
Maggie, no doubt through long years of practice with Katy, fielded that one easily. “Anyone else?”
“Instead of letting people die and making new ones, why doesn’t God just keep the ones He has now?”
Since Grady had wondered that himself, he listened and nodded at the pastor’s answer. It was comforting to think that God had his child in heaven, watching over him.
“Okay guys, one more question. Tara?”
“I was just wondering how God could love everybody in the whole world. I only gots four people in my family and I have a hard time loving them all, ‘specially at the same time.”
“No, you can’t.” Maggie smiled. Grady could hear the mirth in her voice. “I have a hard time with that one myself, Tara. But that’s because we aren’t God. We’re just humans. And today we’re going to talk about God’s love for a little boy who lives very far away in the jungle. His name is Tawi.”
That was the signal for the puppets and Grady scrambled to get Tawi into place. Maggie—beautiful, organized Maggie—had taped the script into place above each hole and all he had to do was read his part at the appropriate place.
Ten minutes later he was drenched in sweat and profoundly glad he was finished.
“Now, that wasn’t so bad, was it?” Maggie was smiling at him, and he couldn’t help the charge of electricity he felt as he basked in that lovely smile.
“It was awful.” He sighed, wiping his forehead. “I’ll build the sets, I’ll lug them here, I’ll do all the grunt work. I’ll weed the garden. I’ll even paint something if I have to. But please, Maggie, please don’t make me do that again.” He folded his damp handkerchief carefully, stuffed it into his pants pocket and sank back on his heels, not caring a whit that he sounded like a whining six-year-old kid. If he remained standing, it would be a miracle.
“You did very well, Grady. Thank you for filling in.” She wrapped her arms around his waist and hugged him. Grady, not caring who saw, hugged her back.
“You’re welcome,” he murmured when she finally pulled away. “I guess.” The lemon scent of her hair clung to the air surrounding them. “Maybe it wasn’t so bad. You need anything else?” Like maybe another hug?
“No, but thanks for asking. You go ahead and get started on the haying. “I’ll see you at lunchtime.”
Grady watched her walk away, his left hand slipping up to touch the spot on his cheek that she’d brushed with her fingertips.
“She’s one rock-solid lady,” Pastor Jim murmured, his eyes glinting as Grady’s hand suddenly fell away. “Be an awful shame if she ever leaves.”
“She wants to, though,” Grady muttered, walking down the aisle with the minister. “She thinks she wants to live in the city and have a regular nine-to-five job.”
“And I guess if things get much worse for her, she’ll have to.” Jim’s voice was low and concerned. “I’d hate to see her leave the farm. She’s carried a heavy load for so long, it’d be nice if she could get that crop of hers off and into the bin.”
“It looks pretty good,” Grady told him seriously. “Wheat’s starting to form into good-size heads. Should be worth top dollar if we can get it off. I intend to ask some of the neighbors to help when the time comes.” He glanced up at the blue sky. “I’d feel better if we could get that hay off, though. I don’t think this weather is going to last.”
“And Maggie’s already obligated to vacation Bible school.” Pastor Jim nodded. “Yes, I see your problem. But I might just have a solution.” He studied Grady carefully for a long time and then nodded as if he was satisfied with what he saw. “You ever worked with kids who’ve been in trouble?”
“Yes. A little.” Grady decided he’d have to give a bit of information. “My company used to take on some of the boys from the delinquent facility outside of Calgary. You’ve heard of it?” When Pastor Jim nodded, Grady relaxed a little and told him how many boys he’d trained and in what capacity. “Are these young offenders?”
“Well—” Jim scratched his head doubtfully “—they’re young and they’re certainly offenders. They spread graffiti all over the high-level bridge a few weeks ago, and even though they’ve cleaned it off, there’s still the matter of stealing that car and spilling manure all over Highway 4.”
“In other words, they’ve just started down the road to ruin,” Grady muttered, thinking. “What have you got in mind?”
“Haying,” said Pastor Jim triumphantly.
They spent the next few minutes deciding just how they’d handle the boys, and it wasn’t long before Grady found himself agreeing to take on two extra boys. By one o’clock they were heading out to start the largest field. Maggie had frowned a little when the boys had shown up after lunch. But Grady had shaken his head and she seemed disposed to let it go. For now. He suspected the dearth of garden produce waiting on the vines behind the house had prompted her quick acquiescence.
“I want to go for as long as I can,” he told her quietly. “If you could manage a meal in the field, we’d appreciate it. But if that’s too much work, we’ll catch something later.”
She’d favored him with a dour look. “Six sharp,” she told him firmly. “I’ll bring it out. You’d better be hungry.”
He’d saluted smartly and turned and marched across the yard to the twins’ fit of giggles. Kent and Randy, the two troubled youths, followed quickly, their sour looks erased for now.
Maggie watched the three of them drive off, a light feeling in her heart. She hated haying with a passion. It was hot, dirty, dusty work. “Which, come to think of it, is what most of farming is about,” she muttered to herself derisively.
Katy and Keeley stood staring at her curiously. “Are you okay, Mom?” Keeley asked at last.
“I’m wonderful! And so are you.” She pressed a kiss against their soft cheeks and replaced the hair clip hanging down Katy’s back. “Now, here’s the deal. If we can get those cucumbers and beans picked and put away this afternoon, we’ll leave the peas till tomorrow.”
“Gee, big deal,” Katy muttered grumpily. “I thought maybe you had a surprise or something.”
“Well, as it happens…” Maggie let the words hang, knowing her daughters wouldn’t be able to resist her offer. “I thought maybe we could have a wiener roast by the creek tonight. You guys could toast marshmallows.”
“Is Grady coming?” Keeley asked quietly amid her sister’s loud jubilation. Maggie saw her tuck a piece of paper into her pocket.
“Maybe later. He wants to get the hay finished before it rains again. Why, honey? Don’t you like it when it’s just the three of us?”
“Yeah, I guess.” Keeley’s blue eyes were shaded by the sun hat she wore, and Maggie couldn’t quite make out the strange look in them. “But it’s more fun if he’s there. Grady makes us feel like a family.”
“And Mom’s got somebody to talk to while we play,” Katy reminded her. “The people said—Ow, Keeley, stop that!” She reached out and tugged her sister’s neatly braided hair, sending Keeley off into a fit of anger.
“Girls!” Maggie raised her voice, her eyes open wide as she stared at them. “If this continues, we will not go to the creek or anywhere else. We’ll finish hoeing the potatoes instead.” Her daughters bent obediently and picked up their buckets, but not without angry glares tossed between them. Maggie walked behind them, her mind replaying their conversation.
“What did you mean, Katy
? What people?” She saw Keeley’s head give an almost imperceptible shake at Katy. “What did they say?” she asked more loudly.
“I can’t tell you, Mom,” Katy muttered, yanking the green beans off with a vicious twist that amazingly did little damage to the plant. “It’s a secret. You know how you say we can have secrets if they’re good. Well, this is a good one.”
“Keeley?” Maggie fixed her daughter with a stern look but Keeley was busy hunting among the prickly vines for the pickling cucumbers she knew were used for dills.
“You said, Mom,” was all Keeley would say.
Maggie sighed. Motherhood! It wasn’t nearly as easy as it should be. But it was definitely worth it. “All right girls. But it had better be good.” She watched them exchange a look that immediately set her motherly instincts on “red alert.”
“Oh, it’s good,” they said. “Really good,” Keeley added softly. “Some day you’ll thank us.”
“Oh, Lord,” Maggie breathed silently as she picked heads of dill and shook off the insects that always hid among the seeds. “Please let it be a good surprise.”
The creek had dwindled down from its raging waters of spring’s runoff but there was still enough to let the girls paddle around and cool off from the hot afternoon. As they giggled and laughed and chased the dog through the shallows, Maggie wondered if moving them would be the right thing. They’d had such happy times here.
“Well, isn’t this a pretty sight.” Grady’s voice was low and intimate as he folded himself down beside her in the gloom of the evening. “It’s nice when summer evenings are so long that it’s still daylight at ten, isn’t it?” he murmured, dropping another log on the flickering bed of coals.
“The girls love it. I usually let them stay up fairly late. After all, they can sleep in.” She studied his damp brown hair as it curled onto his forehead. “How did it go?”
“Actually pretty well. I was glad I took the time to sharpen those knives on that relic, though. They wouldn’t have cut butter.” He took the stick with the hot dog on it and began slowly turning it over and over, browning it evenly. “I don’t really need this,” he muttered, sinking his even white teeth into the bun he’d wrapped around it. “That supper was enough to feed an army. Those ribs were something else.”
“I’m glad you liked them. It’s the lemon that brings out the flavor. Were the boys a help or a hindrance?” Maggie glanced at the girls downstream where they’d built a dam. She knew the moment they spotted Grady they’d come racing back, chatting and teasing with him. It made these few times together oddly special.
“They’re smart kids,” he said, biting into his hot dog. “They just got onto the wrong track. We talked about that after supper. They’re coming back again to help with the baling later this week. I said I’d help them with a computer project in the fall in return for their help during harvest. They figured it was a pretty good deal.”
There it was again—that reference to a future here on the farm. Maggie hugged the knowledge to her and allowed herself to daydream as she stared into the flickering coals. It would be nice to have an evening now and then spent sharing the events of the day. Though the girls were still dependent on her, they were also more involved in their own lives. Particularly Keeley, who seemed to have developed more than her usual affinity with the computer lately.
“Maggie?” She turned at the light pressure on her arm and found Grady’s face mere inches from hers.
“Yes?” She liked the way his grin tipped up the corners of his mouth lopsidedly when he smiled at her.
“You didn’t hear anything I said, did you?” His eyes twinkled in the dusk of the sun setting over the riverbank. “You were lost in dreamland somewhere. Don’t deny it.”
“I wasn’t going to.” Maggie decided to just tell the truth. “I was thinking how nice it was to talk to an adult again. Which reminds me…Where are the girls?” She turned to look around.
“Don’t knock the solitude.” Grady chuckled. “They’re fine. They’re catching worms. I told them I’d take them fishing tomorrow afternoon while I wait for the hay to dry out. With this heat it won’t be long before we can start baling.” His voice dropped to a whisper. “I like talking to you, too, Maggie. It’s just one of the things I like about this place.”
Maggie got lost staring into his deep brown eyes. There were secrets there, she knew. And hidden pain. But there was tenderness and joy, too. She could see it in the tiny crow’s-feet at the corners of his eyes when they crinkled with pleasure. Suddenly his words sank in.
“Fishing?” she repeated dazedly. “You’re going fishing and you didn’t tell me?” A slow burn started deep inside her brain and spread to her heart. “You’re leaving me out of it?” She tried to mask the hurt she felt.
“Of course not!” Grady stared at her. “I just didn’t think…Do you want to come?” he asked curiously. “I’ve never met a woman who actually liked fishing. We’re using live worms, you know,” he told her seriously, his dark eyebrows raised in a question.
As if I was made of icing sugar, Maggie huffed mentally. The one pleasure she dearly loved and seldom afforded herself and he was going to leave her out?
“Is there any other way?” She shrugged away from the warm arm that had oh so carelessly draped itself around her shoulders sometime during the conversation and wiggled backward on the blanket. “I’ve been using live bait for years. My dad and I used to spend hours on the Little Bow when I was a kid. Those pickerel could hardly wait for us to toss in our lines.”
“Pickerel?” Grady peered through the dusky gloom at her. “They’re not usually found this far south, are they?”
Maggie tilted her chin in the air and tossed him a superior look. A fat lot you know, Grady O’Toole, she thought to herself. “Pickerel like cold, fresh water,” she informed him. “And the Bow River is fed from mountain streams and glaciers. It’s generally cold enough to support pickerel.” She glanced up when he shifted on the blanket. “Of course, now I don’t need live bait. I have a special lure that’s never failed me yet.”
“All right,” he admitted with that warm laugh that skittered across her nerves and made her feel cared for. “I concede my ignorance. I’ll even confess that I was crass and unfeeling not to invite you along. Am I forgiven?” He pulled her up, drawing her very close to his lean, muscular length. “Would you do us the honor of joining us for a fishing expedition on the Little Bow River tomorrow afternoon, Margaret Mary McCarthy?”
His voice swirled around her like a cool mist after a blistering hot day and Maggie felt her anger melt away as she stared into those warm eyes. He was so…what was the word? Comfortable? No, that made him sound like a pair of old shoes, and Grady O’Toole was not nearly so mundane!
“Yes, thank you,” she murmured primly, to hide the thrill she felt when his hands squeezed hers like that. “I love fishing. It’ll be nice to get my fishing rod in the water again.” She watched as he kicked wet sand over the fire and made a trench so the few smoking coals couldn’t spread. “I’d better get the girls home. Tomorrow’s bound to bring a big crowd out for Bible school.”
“Why?” Grady asked from his crouched position on the sand. “Wasn’t most of the town already there?”
“Well, we had about three dozen kids today. By tomorrow, the word will have spread that we have puppets. Besides, I promised a treat for anyone who brings along a guest.” She laughed out loud at his shaking head. “It usually works fairly well.”
“I can imagine.” He dusted off his hands and plunged them into his pockets, studying her with an indulgent look that Maggie didn’t quite understand. One hand came out to brush the blond fall of hair off her forehead. “Lady, you are a glutton for punishment.”
“Aw, come on Grady,” she teased, calling the girls once more. “The crop’s growing like crazy, the weather’s been wonderful. You’ve even got the hay off. Almost,” she added at his frowning look. “Life is great. What could go wrong?”
“Don�
��t even think about it,” he muttered, shaking out the blanket and picking up the picnic basket. “By the way,” he asked as the girls raced away in front of them, whooping through the thickly forested bush, “do you know what Keeley’s been up to lately?”
There was something in his tone that had Maggie searching his eyes. “Keeley? No. Why?” Her heart thudded in her chest as she searched his face for some clue. “What’s she done now?”
“Nothing that I know of. It’s just that she spends so much time on that computer of hers. And then, when the mail comes, she’s always there, waiting to sort it before Elmer even gets it in the box. She usually tries to hide it, but most days there’s some envelope or letter packet for her.”
“What do you suppose she’s up to?” Maggie asked and watched the two blond heads tilt together as Keeley said something to her sister. “Maybe Katy knows.”
“If she does, she isn’t talking.” Grady’s face turned a deep red at Maggie’s curious look. “I tried to pry it out of her days ago. No luck.”
“Well, whatever it is, they’ll spill it before long,” Maggie muttered, grunting with exertion as she climbed the last steep hill. Grady’s hand on her arm propelled her over the top. “They never could keep a secret for long,” she panted, grinning at him happily.
They walked back to the house without another word, listening to the girls’ excited jabber about tomorrow. When the twins had hugged Grady good-night and kissed Maggie, they climbed upstairs gladly, tired from their active day.
Maggie joined her hired hand on the front porch shortly after that and handed him a long, cool glass of ice tea. As she leaned back in the old willow chair, her eyes studied the star-studded beauty of the heavens.
“They’re up to something,” she confided, tilting her head toward the window that overlooked the front yard. “I can hear the whispers from here. I’ll bet Katy lets the cat out of the bag tomorrow.”
But Grady wasn’t so certain. She could see it in the way he studied that window for a long time, sipping his tea absently. And he never even commented on the falling star Maggie pointed out to him just before the old mantel clock struck midnight.
