by Terrie Todd
I’m never going to have that kind of marriage, where I don’t even care one whit about it when my husband dies, she decided. I’d rather not marry at all.
Drying the dishes provided a perfect opportunity to daydream about Reginald and the life they’d have together as soon as this horrid war was over. She wished she’d had the nerve to escape sooner, before she’d become so awkward and fat. Reginald will be surprised, but I know he loves me. We’ll get married just as soon as possible and it will all be okay. I know it.
“I’ll be taking a bath tonight,” Mrs. Marshall announced from the other room. “Feel free to take one yourself when I’m done.”
“Yes, ma’am.” Charlotte decided a bath was a good idea. It would help her sleep and, with a little effort, she could manage to still be clean and fresh when she reached Reginald—despite the fact that Mrs. Marshall insisted they share bathwater.
She climbed the stairs to her room and closed the door, then opened her window as wide as it would go. The air was now cooler outside than in, and she welcomed the refreshing breeze. When she heard Mrs. Marshall running her bathwater, she pulled her duffel bag out of the closet and filled it with everything she’d brought with her from home, save the clothes she would put on in the morning. When she was done, she shoved the bag under the bed with her feet and draped the sheet down low to make sure it couldn’t be seen.
Next, she went to work on the note she would leave behind. That’s when it dawned on her that the moment Mrs. Marshall started to suspect something, she’d search Charlotte’s room for clues. Perhaps if she left a few things, it wouldn’t be so obvious that she wasn’t coming back.
Out came the bag again. Charlotte pulled out a dress that was getting much too snug, a brown sweater she hated, and the work dress she’d been wearing almost daily since her arrival. I won’t miss this thing, she thought as she returned it to the closet with the other items.
That would have to do. She couldn’t very well show up at Reginald’s base empty-handed. After she heard Mrs. Marshall leaving the bathroom, she carried her nightgown in with her, hung it on a hook behind the door, and settled into the warm water for a good soak. Between her exhaustion following her efforts that day and her excitement for tomorrow, Charlotte felt almost too exhausted to climb out of the tub when she was done.
When she finally crawled under her sheet, blankets off and window open, she fell asleep in minutes. For the next several hours, she dreamed of train rides, chicken sandwiches, green beans, and Reginald Wilson.
CHAPTER 7
The pipe organ droned on. Maggie recognized the melody of “Amazing Grace” and agreed it would be pretty amazing indeed if the likes of Douglas Marshall had made it through the pearly gates.
“The family” was ushered in last and took up the first three pews on the right side of the church. Maggie sat in the front row with Reverend Fennel. If people thought that odd, so be it. She appreciated that Reuben’s presence created a buffer between Doug’s family and her. On the other side of Reverend Fennel were Douglas’s parents and Earl. Behind them sat Douglas’s sister, Thelma, with her husband, George, and their six children, whose names Maggie could never remember. The third row was filled by various Marshall relatives.
Doug’s family had been against his marriage to begin with, although Maggie could only speculate about the reasons. She’d once heard his mother mention Mildred, an old girlfriend who seemed to stand in high favor. Unlike Maggie’s parents, Mildred’s were well-to-do. Both families had sailed to Canada from England on the same ship a generation before, while Maggie’s four grandparents had immigrated from Italy, Austria, Norway, and Ireland!
In addition, Doug’s father had interrogated Maggie about her church. It seemed the church in which they now sat was the only right one. Or at least the only church from which his offspring should choose a mate. Even though Maggie had been inside this church numerous times since her marriage, it was the memory of her wedding day that sprung to mind now. How could she have been so happy and so blind?
Maggie could hear her mother-in-law weeping on the other side of Reverend Fennel and, though she didn’t feel any closer now to the woman who’d never accepted her, she couldn’t help but feel sorry for anyone who lost a child. It was not the natural order of things. Maggie decided she should take a cue from the woman’s genuine grief. She reached into her purse and pulled out a hankie. Lowering her head, she dabbed at her eyes and cheeks in her best ladylike imitation.
The organ music stopped and the pastor got up to speak. He read first from Psalm 23 and then recounted the story of Jesus raising Lazarus from the dead. Maggie glanced up at Reuben Fennel and saw him nodding his head in agreement to the words of Scripture, his eyes closed. When Doug’s mother let out another sob, Maggie again raised her hanky to her own eyes. Reuben patted her hand.
Maggie figured she could get through the funeral just fine. It was facing Earl later and being confronted with his joint ownership of the restaurant that would be tough. As the pastor rambled on and more hymns were sung, Maggie tried to figure out what she would say to the man. Reuben had suggested taking a civil approach, going into the conversation with the assumption that Earl had only good will toward Maggie and no desire to see her unhappy. Perhaps even no desire to be a part owner of a restaurant. What Reuben advised made sense, she knew. Following his recommendation would be hard, but Maggie decided she’d put down her boxing gloves until she knew for certain they’d be needed.
Then she’d fight to the finish.
“I am the way, the truth, and the life,” the pastor quoted, bringing Maggie’s focus back to the present. “No man cometh unto the Father, but by me.”
Maggie had memorized those words so many years ago, she could rattle them off as easily as counting to ten. It had been a pretty bold statement for Jesus to make about himself. As a little girl, she’d always assumed he really was who he said he was. It was later, when life began to get so difficult, that she started to doubt. Oh, it’s not that she wrote Jesus off as a liar. She figured he’d just been a bit misguided or confused. Still, she admitted, he had spouted an awful lot of wisdom and pulled off some amazing feats. Eventually, Maggie had just drifted away from thinking about God or church at all and made her own way. Deep down, she still believed God was there and that Jesus had died for her sins, like she’d been taught. She just wasn’t quite as convinced that he cared about the day-to-day business of her life. If he did, wouldn’t he have spared her such cruelty at the hands of her own husband? The man she pretended to grieve today, just for the sake of propriety.
When the organ started up again, the family was ushered downstairs, where a reception would take place and refreshments would be served. Maggie found herself leaning hard on Reuben’s arm as they walked down the aisle, without having to fake the necessity of it one bit.
She spent the next half hour shaking hands and even receiving hugs from people she barely knew and some she was certain she’d never met. Where had they all come from? The Marshall family had more connections than she realized. Most said kind words about what a fine young man Douglas had been and how they would be praying for her. Their comments only confirmed what she alone already knew: that Doug had been an expert at playing the dual role of model citizen outside his home and controlling tyrant within it. She felt grateful when Reuben steered her toward a chair and brought her a cup of weak tea.
Maggie sat sipping her tea and nibbling a cheese sandwich. As she brushed some crumbs off her skirt, a pair of shiny black shoes appeared on the floor in front of her. Before she even looked up, she knew who they belonged to. As her eyes moved up the dark gray double-breasted suit, her heart began to pound. Earl Marshall stood before her, grinning and holding out his right hand.
“So I understand you and I are going to be partners, Maggie.”
Maggie swallowed hard. Earl had refrained from using his old nickname for her, but the tone of his voice still held the same contempt. She set her sandwich and teacup down on the ta
ble to her right, but did not accept Earl’s hand. Eventually he put both hands in his pockets.
“I guess this isn’t the time to discuss it,” he said. “When would be a good time, Maggie?”
Finally Maggie looked Earl in the eye. The resemblance to his brother sent shivers down her spine. She could almost feel the slap of Doug’s hand across her cheek again, could hear the filthy curses spewing from his drunken lips. Though she opened her mouth to speak, no words came out. She scanned the room until she made eye contact with Reuben, who stood cornered by the pastor who had led the service.
“Not going to talk to me at all, Maggot?” There it was. Earl leaned across Maggie’s chair, one hand on the wall behind her. He bent low to speak directly into her ear. “I figured you’d want to go over details as quickly as possible, get things squared away. I’ve got some great ideas for improving the place.”
When Maggie looked up at him, he took it as an invitation to continue. “Like hiring real cooks and pretty, slim waitresses, for starters. I don’t know whose idea it was to take in those unwed mothers. It might be cheap labor, but they’re never gonna pull in more business.”
“I’m the cook,” Maggie managed to say.
“I rest my case. What we want is a real professional chef—”
Suddenly, he stopped and stood upright again.
Maggie looked up and saw Reuben standing there. He held out a hand to shake Earl’s, introducing himself as Maggie’s family friend.
“How do you do, Rev’rend,” Earl said, pumping Reuben’s hand. “I was just telling Maggie here about the improvements I got planned for the restaurant, now that we’re partners.”
Reuben smiled. “See, Maggie? I bet Earl here has some of the same ideas you have for renovating and expanding.”
Earl waved his drink around while he talked. “The way I see it, it’s all about people. You get quality people doing the job, you attract quality customers. And they attract their friends. No more of this do-it-yourself, hire-the-cheapest-help-you-can-get nonsense. You get what you pay for. And, of course, you need to start serving liquor. That goes without saying.”
This was followed by the same sickening laugh Maggie had heard in her own home for seven long, dreadful years.
Maggie sat staring at her own knees. She could feel Reuben’s eyes on her. No doubt he was wondering why she wasn’t speaking up. On the inside, she fumed. How dare Earl presume he knew anything about running a restaurant, or any business? He’d moved around from one unskilled job to the other for as long as Maggie had known him. The restaurant was hers! She was the cook, and her faithful customers told her every day how much they enjoyed the food. If they wanted some fancy chef, there were plenty of other places they could eat. As for the help . . . well, Earl would never understand in a million years.
But her tongue felt glued to the bottom of her mouth. What was it about these Marshall men that reduced her otherwise feisty self to a meek shadow of the woman she used to see in her mirror? She raised her eyes to Reuben’s, and he seemed to hear what she was saying without her saying it.
“Perhaps this isn’t the time to be discussing business, Earl,” Reuben said at last, his brown eyes on Maggie’s. “I think it might be best if you gave Maggie a little more time to absorb . . . everything.”
“Oh, of course, of course. Didn’t mean to rush you into anything, little lady. But I hope you’ll start thinking about what I said. That sorry little place oughta be pulled clear down, if you ask me. But the location we got there could be a real gold mine. ’Specially once this doggone war is over.”
“Well, we’re all praying for that.” Reuben reached to shake Earl’s hand again and thumped the man on the back a little harder than necessary, clearly encouraging Earl to move along.
“I’ll call on you in a few days, Maggie.” Earl waited for a minute, apparently anticipating a good-bye of some sort, but Maggie didn’t have it in her. He turned on his heel and drifted into a circle of people gathered near the food.
Reuben watched him walk away, then turned. “You all right, Maggie?” His gentle expression nearly did Maggie in, but she was unwilling to give in to emotion.
“I think I’m ready to go home.” She picked up her purse and stood, taking a deep breath. Along the hallway that led to the stairs, a row of childish drawings graced the wall. One particularly well-done picture caught Maggie’s eye. In a rainbow of crayon, it said God loves you.
Stepping out into the late afternoon sunlight, Maggie couldn’t help but think God had a strange way of showing love. Just when she thought she’d finally been released from her nightmare life, it seemed she was being ushered into another.
CHAPTER 8
From the kitchen sink, Charlotte watched Mrs. Marshall go out the door and walk around the corner with the reverend who was escorting her to Mr. Marshall’s funeral. She counted to ten, then dashed upstairs, grabbed her duffel bag and lunch from under the bed, and hurried back down to the kitchen. She pulled the carefully penned note from her purse and laid it on the table, then weighted it down with a saltshaker for good measure. One more quick glance out the window and around the room, and then she was out the door, remembering to lock it behind her.
It was only a block and a half to the nearest bus stop, but between the heat of the day, the load in her hand, and the other in her belly, Charlotte felt winded by the time she arrived. She waited only a minute before the bus pulled to a stop and she climbed aboard. She gave the driver fifteen cents and deposited the second ticket in her purse, although she had no intention of ever returning to Winnipeg to use it. She only bought it because the drivers always sold tickets in pairs.
Settling into a sideways-facing seat, Charlotte placed her bag by her feet and looked around. A young mother with two toddlers and another baby on the way smiled at her in camaraderie, recognizing their common condition. Wishing she could hide it, Charlotte gave the woman a halfhearted grin and looked away. Two uniformed soldiers occupied a pair of seats, reminding Charlotte of her mission. An elderly couple sat in the seat behind the soldiers, carrying on an animated conversation that it seemed neither husband nor wife could hear. Just an ordinary day in the lives of ordinary people, but to Charlotte the day represented freedom, adventure, and romance unlike any she’d ever known.
In less than thirty minutes, they were at the train station, and in another twenty, Charlotte was on board the CP Rail car that would eventually end up at the East Coast. She could feel her heart pounding with the excitement of leaving this wretched city for good, of running away, of finally being reunited with Reginald. The train car was much more comfortable than the bus. The air was cooler, the seats bigger and softer. She sat back and tried to relax. That she had made it this far undetected was almost too good to believe. Once this coach started off, there’d be no catching her.
A brown-haired woman with a young girl took the seats facing Charlotte.
“Hello. Mind if we join you?”
The words were obviously just a courtesy. Who could stop her from taking any seat in the car? Charlotte smiled, and the pair settled into their seats. Maybe having company wouldn’t be such a bad thing. It would help the time pass.
“How far are you going?” the woman asked.
“Petawawa.”
“That’s a funny name,” the little girl piped up, and the two women chuckled.
“And you?” Charlotte said.
“All the way to Toronto. My parents will pick us up there. They live just outside the city. Is your husband stationed in Petawawa?”
“Yes.” The lie came out so quickly Charlotte had no time to reconsider her words. But even if she’d taken the time to think before answering, she might have concluded that pretending to be married was for the best. Besides, Reginald would be her husband soon enough.
“Mine is overseas—in France, last I heard. I’m Marlajean, by the way. This is Trudy.” The little girl smiled.
“I’m Charlotte.”
The train began to move, and
the trio watched through the window as folks on the platform waved to other passengers. Surprised by how fast her heart was pounding, Charlotte wiped damp hands on her skirt and tried to relax.
As the train sped up, Charlotte took a deep breath and rested her head against the seat. She was on her way! Now all she had to do was ride. It would be a long trip, but so worth it. Marlajean pulled a book out of her purse and began to read. Trudy curled up in her seat, her head on her mother’s lap. Charlotte pulled out a small pillow from a compartment above her seat, tucked it up against the window, and leaned her head on it. The afternoon sunlight made her so sleepy, she dozed off in no time.
When Charlotte awoke, her tummy was rumbling and she was desperate for a toilet. The sunny skies had turned to dull gray. “What time is it?” she asked.
Before Marlajean could provide an answer, a steward came through the car announcing that the 6:00 p.m. meal was being served in the dining car.
“Care to join us?” Marlajean asked, standing.
“Oh. Thank you, no.” Charlotte said. “I’ll just stay here. I brought a lunch.”
Once her seatmates had left, Charlotte maneuvered to the on-board lavatory at the back of the car and used it. There, she found tiny cone-shaped paper cups next to a crock of water with a spout. She helped herself to a drink and splashed a little water on her face. When she returned to her seat, she pulled her lunch bag out and decided the chicken sandwich should be eaten first. It was dry, but she was hungry enough not to care. She wished she had thought to bring a jar from Mrs. Marshall’s to fill with water from the lavatory. Eating an apple helped her thirst a little. Although tempted to eat the second sandwich as well, she knew she had better save it for later.
