Maggie's Dad

by Diana Palmer

  Locally he was a legend. Most of her teachers had bent over backward to avoid confrontations with him. Maggie learned quickly that she didn’t have to study very hard to make good grades. Not that she wasn’t bright; she simply didn’t try, because she didn’t need to. She smiled. Wouldn’t it be nice, she thought, if she could use him against Miss Hayes?

  “She says I’m lazy and stupid,” she repeated.

  “What’s this teacher’s name?” he asked coldly.

  “Miss Hayes.”

  He was very still. “Antonia Hayes?” he asked curtly.

  “I don’t know her first name. She came on account of Mrs. Donalds quit,” she said. “Mrs. Donalds was my friend. I miss her.”

  “When did Miss Hayes get here?” he asked, surprised that he’d heard nothing about her returning to Bighorn. Of course, he’d been out of town for a week, too.

  “I told you—last week. They said she used to live here.” She studied his hard face. It looked dangerous. “Did she, Daddy?”

  “Yes,” he said with icy contempt. “Yes, she used to live here. Well, we’ll see how Miss Hayes handles herself with another adult,” he added.

  He went to the telephone and picked it up and dialed the principal of the Bighorn Elementary School.

  Mrs. Jameson was surprised to hear Powell Long on the other end of the phone. She’d never known him to interfere in school matters before, even when Maggie was up to her teeth in trouble with another student.

  “I want to know why you permit an educator to tell a child that she’s lazy and stupid,” he demanded.

  There was a long pause. “I beg your pardon?” the principal asked, shocked.

  “Maggie said that Miss Hayes told her she was lazy and stupid,” he said shortly. “I want that teacher talked to, and talked to hard. I don’t want to have to come up there myself. Is that clear?”

  Mrs. Jameson knew Powell Long. She was intimidated enough to agree that she’d speak to Antonia on Monday.

  And she did. Reluctantly.

  “I had a call from Maggie Long’s father Friday afternoon after you left,” Mrs. Jameson told Antonia, who was sitting rigidly in front of her in her office. “I don’t believe for a minute that you’d deliberately make insulting remarks to that child. Heaven knows, every teacher in this school except Mrs. Donalds has had trouble with her, although Mr. Long has never interfered. It’s puzzling that he would intervene, and that Maggie would say such things about you.”

  “I haven’t called her stupid,” Antonia said evenly. “I have told her that if she refuses to do her homework and write down the answers on tests, she will be given a failing grade. I’ve never made a policy of giving undeserved marks, or playing favorites.”

  “I’m sure you haven’t,” Mrs. Jameson replied. “Your record in Tucson is spotless. I even spoke to your principal there, who was devastated to have lost you. He speaks very highly of your intelligence and your competence.”

  “I’m glad. But I don’t know what to do about Maggie,” she continued. “She doesn’t like me. I’m sorry about that, but I don’t know what I can do to change her attitude. If she could only be helpful like her friend Julie,” she added. “Julie is a first-rate little student.”

  “Everyone loves Julie,” the principal agreed. She folded her hands on her desk. “I have to ask you this, Antonia. Is it possible that unconsciously you might be taking out old hurts on Maggie? I know that you were engaged to her father once…. It’s a small town,” she added apologetically when Antonia stiffened, “and one does hear gossip. I also know that Maggie’s mother broke you up and spread some pretty terrible lies about you in the community.”

  “There are people who still don’t think they were lies,” Antonia replied tersely. “My mother eventually died because of the pressure and censure the community put on her because of them.”

  “I’m sorry. I didn’t know that.”

  “She had a bad heart. I left town, to keep the talk to a minimum, but she never got over it.” Her head lifted, and she forced a weak smile. “I was innocent of everything I had been accused of, but I paid the price anyway.”

  Mrs. Jameson looked torn. “I shouldn’t have brought it up.”

  “Yes, you should,” Antonia replied. “You had the right to know if I was deliberately persecuting a student. I despised Sally for what she did to me, and I have no more love for Maggie’s father than for his late wife. But I hope I’m not such a bad person that I’d try to make a child suffer for something she didn’t do.”

  “Nor do I believe you would, consciously,” Mrs. Jameson replied. “It’s a touchy situation, though. Mr. Long has enormous influence in the community. He’s quite wealthy and his temper is legendary in these parts. He has no compunction about making scenes in public, and he threatened to come up here himself if this situation isn’t resolved.” She laughed a little unsteadily. “Miss Hayes, I’m forty-five years old. I’ve worked hard all my life to achieve my present status. It would be very difficult for me to find another job if I lost this one, and I have an invalid husband to support and a son in college. I plead with you not to put my job in jeopardy.”

  “I never would do that,” Antonia promised. “I’d quit before I’d see an innocent person hurt by my actions. But Mr. Long is very wrong about the way his daughter is being treated. In fact, she’s causing the problems. She refuses to do her work and she knows that I can’t force her to.”

  “She certainly does. She’ll go to her father, and he’ll light fires under members of the school board. I believe at least one of them owes him money, in fact, and the other three are afraid of him.” She cleared her throat. “I’ll tell you flat that I’m afraid of him, myself.”

  “No freedom of speech in these parts, I gather?”

  “If your freedom impinges on his prejudices, no, there isn’t,” Mrs. Jameson agreed. “He’s something of a tyrant in his way. We certainly can’t fault him for being concerned about his child, though.”

  “No,” Antonia agreed. She sighed. Her own circumstances were tenuous, to say the least. She had her own problems and fear gnawed at her all the time. She wasn’t afraid of Powell Long, though. She was more afraid of what lay ahead for her.

  “You will try…about Maggie?” Mrs. Jameson added.

  Antonia smiled. “Certainly I will. But may I come to you if the problem doesn’t resolve itself and ask for help?”

  “If there’s any to give, you may.” She grimaced. “I have my own doubts about Maggie’s cooperation. And we both have a lot to lose if her father isn’t happy.”

  “Do you want me to pass her anyway?” Antonia asked. “To give her grades she hasn’t earned, because her father might be upset if she fails?”

  Mrs. Jameson flushed. “I can’t tell you to do that, Miss Hayes. We’re supposed to educate children, not pass them through favoritism.”

  “I know that,” Antonia said.

  “But you wondered if I did,” came the dry reply. “Yes, I do. But I’m job scared. When you’re my age, Miss Hayes,” she added gently, “I can guarantee that you will be, too.”

  Antonia’s eyes were steady and sad. She knew that she might never have the problem; she might not live long enough to have it. She thanked Mrs. Jameson and went back to her classroom, morose and dejected.

  Maggie watched her as she sat down at her desk and instructed the class to proceed with their English lesson. She didn’t look very happy. Her father must have shaken them up, Maggie thought victoriously. Well, she wasn’t going to do that homework or do those tests. And when she failed, her father would come storming up here, because he never doubted his little girl’s word. He’d have Miss Hayes on the run in no time. Then maybe Mrs. Donalds would have her baby and come back, and everything would be all right again. She glared at Julie, who just ignored her. She was sick of Julie, kissing up to Miss Hayes. Julie was a real sap. Maggie wasn’t sure who she disliked more—Julie or Miss Hayes.

  There was one nice touch, and that was that Miss Haye
s coolly told her that she had until Friday to turn in her essay and the other homework that Antonia had assigned the class.

  The next four days went by, and Antonia asked for homework papers to be turned in that she’d assigned at the beginning of the week. Maggie didn’t turn hers in.

  “You’ll get a zero if you don’t have all of it by this afternoon, including the essay you owe me,” Antonia told her, dreading the confrontation she knew was coming, despite all her hopes. She’d done her best to treat Maggie just like the other students, but the girl challenged her at every turn.

  “No, I won’t,” Maggie said with a surly smile. “If you give me a zero, I’ll tell my daddy, and he’ll come up here.”

  Antonia studied the sullen little face. “And you think that frightens me?”

  “Everybody’s scared of my dad,” she returned proudly.

  “Well, I’m not,” Antonia said coldly. “Your father can come up here if he likes and I’ll tell him the same thing I’ve told you. If you don’t do the work, you don’t pass. And there’s nothing he can do about it.”

  “Oh, really?”

  Antonia nodded. “Oh, really. And if you don’t turn in your homework by the time the final bell sounds, you’ll find out.”

  “So will you,” Maggie replied.

  Antonia refused to argue with the child. But when the end of class came and Maggie didn’t turn the homework in, she put a zero neatly next to the child’s name.

  “Take this paper home, please,” she told the child, handing her a note with her grade on it.

  Maggie took it. She smiled. And she didn’t say a word as she went out the door. Miss Hayes didn’t know that her daddy was picking her up today. But she was about to find out.

  Antonia had chores to finish before she could go home. She didn’t doubt that Powell would be along. But she wasn’t going to back down. She had nothing to lose now. Even her job wasn’t that important if it meant being blackmailed by a nine-year-old.

  Sure enough, it was only minutes since class was dismissed and she was clearing her desk when she heard footsteps coming down the hall. Only a handful of teachers would still be in the building, but those particular steps were heavy and forceful, and she knew who they belonged to.

  She turned as the door opened and a familiar tall figure came into the room with eyes as dark as death.

  He didn’t remove his hat, or exchange greetings. In his expensive suit and boots and Stetson, he looked very prosperous. But her eyes were seeing a younger man, a ragged and lonely young man who never fit in anywhere, who dreamed of not being poor. Sometimes she remembered that young man and loved him with a passion that even in dreams was overpowering.

  “I’ve been expecting you,” she said, putting the past away in the back drawers of her mind. “She did get a zero, and she deserved it. I gave her all week to produce her homework, and she didn’t.”

  “Oh, hell, you don’t have to pretend noble motives. I know why you’re picking on the kid. Well, lay off Maggie,” he said shortly. “You’re here to teach, not to take out old grudges on my daughter.”

  She was sitting at her desk. She folded her hands together on its worn surface and simply stared at him, unblinking. “Your daughter is going to fail this grade,” she said composedly. “She won’t participate in class discussions, she won’t do any homework, and she refuses to even attempt answers on pop tests. I’m frankly amazed that she’s managed to get this far in school at all.” She smiled coldly. “I understand from the principal, who is also intimidated by you, that you have the influence to get anyone fired who doesn’t pass her.”

  His face went rigid. “I don’t need to use any influence! She’s a smart child.”

  She opened her desk drawer, took out Maggie’s last test paper and slid it across the desk to him. “Really?” she asked.

  He moved into the classroom, to the desk. His lean, dark hand shot down to retrieve the paper. He looked at it with narrow, deep-set eyes, black eyes that were suddenly piercing on Antonia’s face.

  “She didn’t write anything on this,” he said.

  She nodded, taking it back. “She sat with her arms folded, giving me a haughty smile the whole time, and she didn’t move a muscle for the full thirty minutes.”

  “She hasn’t acted that way before.”

  “I wouldn’t know. I’m new here.”

  He stared at her angrily. “And you don’t like her.”

  She searched his cold eyes. “You really think I came all the way back to Wyoming to take out old resentments on Sally’s daughter?” she asked, and hated the guilt she felt when she asked the question. She knew she wasn’t being fair to Maggie, but the very sight of the child was like torture.

  “Sally’s and mine,” he reminded her, as if he knew how it hurt her to remember.

  She felt sick to her stomach. “Excuse me. Sally’s and yours,” she replied obligingly.

  He nodded slowly. “Yes, that’s what really bothers you, isn’t it?” he said, almost to himself. “It’s because she looks just like Sally.”

  “She’s her image,” she agreed flatly.

  “And you still hate her, after all this time.”

  Her hands clenched together. She didn’t drop her gaze. “We were talking about your daughter.”

  “Maggie.”

  “Yes.”

  “You can’t even bring yourself to say her name, can you?” He perched himself on the edge of her desk. “I thought teachers were supposed to be impartial, to teach regardless of personal feelings toward their students.”

  “We are.”

  “You aren’t doing it,” he continued. He smiled, but it wasn’t the sort of smile that comforted. “Let me tell you something, Antonia. You came home. But this is my town. I own half of it, and I know everybody on the school board. If you want to stay here, and teach here, you’d better be damn sure that you maintain an impartial attitude toward all the students.”

  “Especially toward your daughter?” she asked.

  He nodded. “I see you understand.”

  “I won’t treat her unfairly, but I won’t play favorites, either,” she said icily. “She’s going to receive no grades that she doesn’t earn in my classroom. If you want to get me fired, go ahead.”

  “Oh, hell, I don’t want your job,” he said abruptly. “It doesn’t matter to me if you stay here with your father. I don’t even care why you suddenly came back. But I won’t have my daughter persecuted for something that she didn’t do! She has nothing to do with the past.”

  “Nothing?” Her eyes glittered up into his. “Sally was pregnant with that child when you married her, and she was born seven months later,” she said huskily, and the pain was a living, breathing thing. Even the threat of leukemia wasn’t that bad. “You were sleeping with Sally while you were swearing eternal devotion to me!”

  Antonia didn’t have to be a math major to arrive at the difference. He’d married Sally less than a month after he broke up with Antonia, and Maggie was born seven months later. Which meant that Sally was pregnant when they married.

  He took a slow, steady breath, but his eyes, his face, were terrible to see. He stared down at her as if he’d like to throw something.

  Antonia averted her gaze to the desk, where her hands were so tightly clasped now that the knuckles were white. She relaxed them, so that he wouldn’t notice how tense she was.

  “I shouldn’t have said that,” she said after a minute. “I had no right. Your marriage was your own business, and so is your daughter. I won’t be unkind to her. But I will expect her to do the same work I assign to the other students, and if she doesn’t, she’ll be graded accordingly.”

  He stood up and shoved his hands into his pockets. The eyes that met hers were unreadable. “Maggie’s paid a higher price than you know already,” he said enigmatically. “I won’t let you hurt her.”

  “I’m not in the habit of taking out my personal feelings on children, whatever you think of me.”

  “Yo
u’re twenty-seven now,” he said, surprising her. “Yet you’re still unmarried. You have no children of your own.”

  She smiled evenly. “Yes. I had a lucky escape.”

  “And no inclination to find someone else? Make a life for yourself?”

  “I have a life,” she said, and the fear came up into her mouth as she realized that she might not have it for much longer.

  “Do you?” he asked. “Your father will die one day. Then you’ll be alone.”

  Her eyes, full of fear, fell to the desk again. “I’ve been alone for a long time,” she said quietly. “It’s something…one learns to live with.”

  He didn’t speak. After a minute, she heard his voice, as if from a distance. “Why did you come back?”

  “For my father.”

  “He’s getting better day by day. He didn’t need you.”

  She looked up, searching his face, seeing the young man she’d loved in his dark eyes, his sensuous mouth. “Maybe I needed someone,” she said. She winced and dropped her eyes.

  He laughed. It had an odd sound. “Just don’t turn your attention toward me, Antonia. You may need someone. I don’t. Least of all you.”

  Before she could say a word, he’d gone out the door, as quietly as he’d come in.

  Maggie was waiting at the door when he walked in. He’d taken her home before he had his talk with Antonia.

  “Did you see her? Did you tell her off?” she asked excitedly. “I knew you’d show her who’s boss!”

  His eyes narrowed. She hadn’t shown that much enthusiasm for anything in years. “What about that homework?”

  She shrugged. “It was stupid stuff. She wanted us to write an essay about ourselves and do math problems and make up sentences to go with spelling words.”

  He scowled. “You mean, you didn’t do it—any of it?”

  “You told her I didn’t have to, didn’t you?” she countered.

  He tossed his hat onto the side table in the hall and his eyes flashed at her. “Did you do any of the homework?”