Maggie's War

by Terrie Todd

  Maggie,

  By the time you read this, you will know what I have done. I am so sorry, my dearest friend in all the world, my sister, my kindred spirit. I know if you were here, you would try to talk me out of it and I would probably listen to you because I always do. That’s why, in the long run, it is best that you are away.

  I made the grave mistake of telling Bobby about the baby. I thought he would be on my side, that he would rescue me somehow. Instead, he agreed that my parents’ solution is the only way. It hurt me, but I prepared my heart to follow through with the plan everyone agreed was best. I took comfort in knowing Bobby would still be there for me and we would have more children after we married. But when I went to Anderson’s Drugstore on an errand for my mother yesterday, I saw Shirley Fox and Bobby laughing together at the soda fountain. When I confronted him, Bobby told me it was over between us and I should quit being such a child.

  You are the only one who has not condemned me. For that alone, I am grateful. But I cannot bear the pain of all this, Maggie. Maybe I am taking the coward’s way out, but how can I face the rest of my life—sixty or seventy years—living with this pain, guilt, rejection? It’s too much. You understand, don’t you? I hope you can find it in your heart to forgive me.

  You have been the best thing in my life and I love you with all my heart. I am so sorry, my dear friend.

  Suze

  Maggie slid the letter across the table toward her father. Her mother leaned into his shoulder and they read it together, in silence. By the time they were done, Maggie’s mother was sobbing.

  Not a single tear formed for Maggie. She quietly picked up her suitcase and carried it upstairs to her room, where she undressed, pulled a nightgown over her head, and crawled under the covers. That night, sleep refused to come. The words of Susan’s letter, however, stayed with Maggie, one line in particular repeating itself mercilessly:

  I know if you were here, you would try to talk me out of it and I would probably listen to you because I always do.

  Like the waves that had rolled off Lake Winnipeg when she’d gone to Grand Beach once as a little girl, the words continued to rise to her mind, unbidden. But instead of refreshing coolness, they brought only pain.

  I will find a way to make it up to you, Suze, Maggie thought at the time. I should have been a better friend.

  Maggie paused only briefly after entering the station. It was not the first time she had been to this place since Susan’s death, but she’d forgotten the effect it always had on her. With a quick intake of breath, she tightened her grip on her purse and marched to the ticket counter. At this hour of the morning, the place was relatively quiet and only one window was open. A man who looked old enough to be Maggie’s grandfather sat behind it.

  “Where to?” he asked.

  “Oh, I’m not buying a ticket.” Maggie leaned in so she could speak as softly as possible. “I’m looking for someone. Would you happen to know if a young woman came through here yesterday afternoon, buying a ticket for Petawawa, Ontario?”

  “Ma’am, we probably saw hundreds of young women come through here yesterday.”

  “I realize that,” Maggie said. “But this one would be hard to miss. Nearly eight months pregnant. Only seventeen years old. Blond hair.”

  “You her mother?”

  “I’m her guardian.”

  “Run away, did she?”

  “Please. Do you take names of passengers?”

  “No, ma’am. But if she wanted to get to Petawawa, she would have taken the 4:50 to Ottawa.”

  “Where is that train now?”

  The man flipped some pages in a thick book off to the side. Maggie could see it was a train schedule but couldn’t make out the details.

  “Should be pulling into Fort William station in about an hour.” He turned back to Maggie. “Got a picture of her?”

  “No. I—she hasn’t been with me that long.”

  “You call the police?”

  “Yes. They can’t help me. Not yet.”

  The man sighed and leaned toward Maggie. “Look. I’ve raised kids myself. I don’t know if your girl came through here or not, but the last ticket I sold before I got off duty yesterday was to a young blond lady. I remember because when she walked away, she dropped her purse. I watched her pick it up and that’s when I noticed her condition. Expecting, like you said.”

  “Do you remember what she was wearing?”

  “Can’t say I recall. But her ticket was for Petawawa and she paid with exact change.”

  “Can the railroad have her detained in Fort William?” Maggie felt sure she was grasping at straws.

  “No, ma’am, we can’t do that. Not unless she tries to go further than her ticket allows.”

  “Where would I have to drive to in order to intercept her train?”

  “Can’t be done. You’d have had to leave yesterday, ma’am.”

  Maggie felt a hand on her arm and turned around. Reuben Fennel stood there, concern on his face.

  “Reuben! Thanks for meeting me. I think my hunch was right.” They walked away from the booth and Maggie told him what the ticket vendor had said, except for the part where it couldn’t be done.

  “How long do you think it will take me to drive all the way to Petawawa if I have to?” she asked him.

  The sincerity of Reuben’s next words matched the warmth in his brown eyes. “I’m going with you, Maggie.”

  Maggie stared at him. Although part of her sighed with relief at the thought of having company, she couldn’t ask this of him.

  “I can drive, Reuben. I just need to borrow your car.”

  “This is not up for discussion. Come on, we’re losing time.” He headed for the front doors with a determined march.

  Maggie half-ran to keep up. “Reuben, you can’t just take off halfway across the country—”

  Reuben stopped and turned. Was that the hint of a grin on his lips? “It’s a huge country, Maggie. This jaunt is not even close to halfway across it.”

  “That’s not the point. What about your job? You can’t just take off—with me—on what could turn out to be a wild goose chase. Your congregation will never—”

  “Technically, my congregation is funding the trip.” He held the door open and Maggie walked through.

  “The gas ration card. You told me. And I appreciate it, but—”

  They had reached Reuben’s car. “The card’s got my name on it, therefore I have to go. Get in.”

  “I can’t let you do this, Reuben.”

  “Then I can’t loan you my car.”

  Maggie glared at him. They were losing time with every argument she raised.

  “Fine.” She climbed inside and slammed her door shut. “No skin off my nose if they fire you for inappropriate conduct.”

  Reuben ignored the comment. “I’m going to pray before we take off.”

  “Make it quick.”

  “Lord, you know where Charlotte is. Please help us find her. Keep her—and us—safe. And thank you for your provision of gas rations for the journey. Amen.”

  Maggie stared straight ahead as Reuben started the Plymouth and headed east out of the city.

  CHAPTER 11

  The early morning sunlight had turned to gray fog by the time Charlotte managed to hoist herself off the soaked upholstery of the train seat and walk to the lavatory. Marlajean and Trudy were no longer there. Only one other passenger hadn’t left the car for breakfast, and he appeared to be fast asleep.

  Closing the door behind her, she looked at her white face in the mirror. She dried off her body as best she could, doubling over whenever another wave of pain enveloped her. She splashed cool water on her face and was just drying it when she heard an urgent-sounding rap on the door.

  “Charlotte? You in there?”

  Marlajean. Thank God. Charlotte opened the door to see her new friend standing there, concern written all over her face.

  “What’s happening to me?”

  “Charlotte, I w
ant you to come back to your seat. We’ll try to make you comfortable. Then I’m going to go speak to the conductor. We need to get you off this train as quickly as possible.”

  “I can’t get off the train,” Charlotte protested. “I’ve got to get to Reginald.”

  Marlajean spoke with the same tone she used on her little girl. “Sweetie, you need a doctor. If we’re really lucky, there may be one on the train, but they’re going to want you off as soon as possible, one way or the other. For now, I’ve rounded up a couple of blankets.” She took Charlotte’s arm to steady her and nudged her down the narrow aisle toward their seats. Trudy was busy with her coloring book. A cup of steaming tea sat in the holder by Charlotte’s seat. Marlajean spread a blanket on the seat and eased Charlotte onto it.

  “Try to take long, slow breaths. Do you think you can take a sip of this tea?”

  Charlotte could feel the tears welling up and squeezed her eyes shut. She would not behave like a child, not after all she’d gone through to make her escape.

  “Is the baby coming, Marlajean? Is that what this is?”

  “Yes, honey, I think so. But try to relax. It could be a long time yet.”

  “But it can’t come now! I have to get to Reginald!”

  “Stay here, Charlotte. I’m going to go find help.” Then Marlajean whispered softly to Trudy, who nodded and watched her mother walk away.

  Charlotte looked at the little girl and tried to imagine what it would be like to have a child. Trudy was a sweet one. Brown curls framed a tiny face that seemed half-filled by big brown eyes. Charlotte had not heard her whimper or fuss once.

  “Would you like me to sing you a song?” Trudy asked. “Mommy said I should.”

  Charlotte nodded as another contraction gripped her. She tried to breathe slowly like Marlajean had instructed while Trudy’s soft voice filled the space between them.

  “Jesus loves me! This I know,

  For the Bible tells me so;

  Little ones to him belong;

  They are weak, but he is strong.

  Yes, Jesus loves me!

  Yes, Jesus loves me!

  Yes, Jesus loves me!

  The Bible tells me so.”

  Charlotte knew the song from her childhood, but those years seemed an eternity away now. Her parents had taken her to Sunday school and attended church themselves, but God was not something they ever talked about between Sundays. If Jesus loved her like the song said, why had he let her get into this mess? But even as she thought this, she recognized that the mess was her own work and really couldn’t be blamed on anyone, not even God.

  “Keep singing, Trudy.” Any distraction was welcome. The little girl sang the song through two more times, coloring while she sang.

  Charlotte sipped the tea and tried to focus on the words Trudy sang as she gazed out at the hazy world. They were traveling through heavy forest now, but even the nearest trees were hard to see through the fog. She tried to sing along.

  “. . . little ones to him belong.” Little ones. Like her baby? For the first time, Charlotte began to consider that the child inside her was more than just a part of her. A little one, who belonged to God. Oh, my poor baby! Would he or she be born on this train? What had she done? This child was supposed to be adopted. The lady who had come to talk to her about it already had a family picked out.

  But she couldn’t think about that now. As another contraction gripped her, Marlajean returned with a large red-faced man in a uniform.

  “Charlotte, this is Mr. Scott, the conductor. He says there are no medical personnel on board, but we’ll be in Fort William in about twenty minutes. He’s already wired ahead and there will be an ambulance waiting to take you to the hospital.”

  “No! I don’t want to go to a hospital, I have to get to Reginald!”

  “We can send your husband a telegram, too, ma’am, if you like. But we can’t let you stay on this train,” the conductor said.

  “It will be okay, sweetie,” Marlajean said. “They’ll take good care of you.”

  Mr. Scott scurried away. Just before reaching the end of the car, he turned and called back to Marlajean. “Stay with her, please. I’ll take another walk through all the cars and ask one more time if there are any nurses or doctors aboard. Just in case we missed someone.”

  Marlajean sat down across from Charlotte and fished paper and a pencil out of her purse.

  “Charlotte, if you give me your husband’s name, I promise I’ll do everything in my power to contact him and let him know where you are. But you have to realize he may not be granted leave anytime soon. Is there anyone else I can contact for you?”

  Charlotte wiped at the tears that refused to be held back. “No. There’s no one.”

  “What about your parents?”

  “My parents are traveling. The baby wasn’t supposed to come yet!”

  “I know, honey, but we can’t always predict these things. There must be someone I can call.”

  Charlotte thought of Mrs. Marshall, who was no doubt furious with her by now. No point in trying to call her. Even if she wanted to help, which was highly unlikely, what could she possibly do from so far away? She was probably glad to be rid of Charlotte.

  “Please just send word to my—to Reginald. Private Reginald Wilson at Petawawa Military Camp. He’s a cook.”

  Marlajean moved to Charlotte’s seat and took her hand with a gentle touch. “You’re not alone, Charlotte. You’ll get through this. It may not all happen the way you hope, but eventually your husband will be free to come to you, and the three of you will be reunited as a happy family. You’ll see.”

  At this, Charlotte’s tears came in a torrent.

  “You’re wrong. You’re so wrong, I can’t even begin to tell you how wrong you are,” she wailed.

  But Marlajean only grew more persistent, patting Charlotte’s hand and rubbing her arm. “In the meantime, I’m here with you. When we get to Fort William, there will be help waiting.”

  “You don’t understand!”

  “And no matter what happens, God is always with you. He loves you, Charlotte.”

  “He’s not my husband!” Charlotte groaned.

  “Of course God isn’t your husband,” Marlajean said. “Don’t you see? A husband can leave, sometimes willingly and sometimes not. Sometimes a husband even dies. But God has promised to be with us always.”

  “No! I mean Reginald is not my husband. We’re not married. He doesn’t even know about the—”

  Another contraction cut Charlotte’s confession short. Marlajean stared at her, but Charlotte was in too much pain to explain further. When the pain had finally passed, she realized little Trudy was staring at her, too, her massive brown eyes looking bigger than ever.

  “You’re not married?” Marlajean said softly.

  “No. My parents sent me to Winnipeg to stay until the baby comes. It’s supposed to be adopted out. What’s going to happen now?”

  Marlajean pressed her lips together. “Sweetie, you’ve got to believe everything is going to work out. Right now you just need to focus on bringing this child into the world as best you can, okay?”

  Charlotte looked into Marlajean’s eyes and nodded. Was this how it felt to receive compassion from a mother? It was a new feeling, and she wished she could experience it under less urgent circumstances.

  “Now, take a big breath and let me wipe those tears from your cheeks.” As Marlajean did, Charlotte felt like a baby herself. How had she ever thought she was all grown up?

  “I don’t know if I can do this,” she confessed.

  “Of course you can. Women have been doing this since creation.”

  “Will you stay with me?”

  Marlajean sighed. “I can’t, honey. Trudy and I need to stay on the train and get where we’re going. My parents are waiting. But let me write some things down first.”

  Between contractions, Charlotte gave Marlajean all the information she could think of: Maggie Marshall’s name, address, and phone nu
mber. Her parents’ contact information and expected time of arrival home. Even Reginald’s parents were added to the list, though Charlotte begged her to save that information to use only if she became desperate, since neither Reginald nor his family knew about her pregnancy. Marlajean wrote it all down twice, on two separate slips of paper. She tucked one into her purse just as the train began to slow.

  “Fort William,” a voice rang out as a steward made his way through the car.

  “I’ll help you get off,” Marlajean said. She began gathering Charlotte’s things when the conductor, Mr. Scott, returned.

  “There’s an ambulance waiting, ma’am,” he said. “We’ll unload you first.”

  Charlotte felt like so much unwanted freight at the idea of being unloaded. She didn’t know whether to be relieved or fearful, but she knew she somehow had to be brave. With one hand, Mr. Scott carried Charlotte’s bag, and with the other, he tried to steady her. Marlajean gripped her other elbow and did her best to support her as they made their way along the aisle and down the steps. As she stepped onto the platform, another contraction struck, and Charlotte leaned heavily into Marlajean until it passed. A nurse and a driver, both dressed in all white, jumped down from a big white car with a red cross on the side. They helped Charlotte into a wheelchair.

  “This is Charlotte Wilson,” Marlajean said to the nurse, handing her one of the sheets of paper. The two women spoke together quietly while Mr. Scott and the man in white escorted Charlotte to the waiting ambulance. She suddenly realized she hadn’t given Marlajean her own last name, and amidst the confusion, she overheard her friend mistakenly providing Reginald’s. Just as she was about to try to correct the situation, another labor pain hit her.

  In less than a minute, Charlotte was settled in the vehicle and covered with warm blankets. The nurse sat beside her, checking her blood pressure and pulse, before the ambulance pulled away from the station. Charlotte looked up at the young woman. Her blond hair was pulled neatly into a bun beneath a securely pinned white nurse’s cap. Her reassuring smile helped Charlotte feel more at ease.