Maggie's War

by Terrie Todd

  “Thank you.” Maggie still felt as if she might wake up any minute to a less harsh reality.

  Reuben gave the police officer Mrs. O’Toole’s telephone number and they left. It was a quiet ride to the boardinghouse, and when they pulled up behind it, neither was in a hurry to get out of the car.

  Finally, Reuben spoke. “It’s getting dark and I bet Mrs. O’Toole has supper for us. Think you can eat?”

  Maggie sighed, then nodded. “I’ll try.”

  “That’s the spirit.”

  Maggie found Mrs. O’Toole’s homemade bread and stew made from fresh garden vegetables did, surprisingly, manage to minister to her weary soul, as well as her body.

  “The girl and the wee one are fast asleep,” the landlady said softly. “Cried herself to sleep, the poor thing.”

  “Thank you for taking good care of them,” Reuben said.

  “It’s what I’m here for, Reverend. And ma’am, if you’d like a nice hot soak in the bathtub, you just help yourself. Your bed is all ready for you. I laid out a nightgown you can use if you like, and if I can wash up some clothes for you, I’d be more than happy to.”

  So this is how it feels to receive the compassionate care of God’s people, Maggie thought. This must have been what Reuben meant about God doing his work through his people. If I’d been forthcoming about Doug’s abuse, would I have experienced God’s love after all?

  Maggie didn’t know if her legs would carry her up the stairs, but she made it. She didn’t stay in the tub long, fearing she’d doze off and drown. Once she had donned Mrs. O’Toole’s nightgown, she handed the woman every stitch of clothing she had with her, suddenly realizing it was all she had in the world. She climbed between the clean cotton sheets and tried to relax. Remembering Reuben’s habit of praying about everything, she decided to give it a try.

  “God, I don’t know if you listen to ordinary people like me. I’ve got nothing to offer you. Nothing. I’m completely empty. I have no home. No work. No family. I’ve done a rotten job with Charlotte. I wouldn’t blame her parents if they file a lawsuit. I don’t understand what’s going on or how my life could come to such ruin so quickly.

  “But God, if you’re there, if you really see all, then you know the cause of the fire. Please guide the fire inspectors to it. And please show me what to do next.” With that thought, Reuben’s smiling face came to mind.

  “And God, I thank you for Reuben. Thank you that we got Charlotte and Darcy safely back. And thank you for Mrs. O’Toole. Bless them all.

  “And if you could have prevented my home from burning down, then I’m pretty mad at you right now. I hope you understand. Amen.

  “Oh, and if you couldn’t have prevented it, then I don’t know why I’m bothering with you at all. Amen.”

  Talking to God was one thing, but surrendering her spunk was quite another.

  CHAPTER 26

  Charlotte lay on the twin bed Mrs. O’Toole had assigned her, Darcy snuggled closely at her breast. The landlady had kindly fashioned a little bed for him out of a willow laundry basket and several soft blankets, but Charlotte couldn’t bear to be separated from him by even a few feet. She was exhausted, yet sleep refused to come. Just when she was convinced she’d shed her last tear, her crying would start all over again. One of the nurses at the hospital had told her it was common for new mothers to feel emotional, under even the best of circumstances, and Charlotte knew that hers were far from ideal. Her aching body, fatigue, and the pending doom of separation from her baby had been adding to her burden ever since his birth. But now, the load of guilt and loss was almost more than she could bear.

  How could she have been so stupid? She had brought nothing but harm upon herself, her sweet baby, and Mrs. Marshall. Reverend Fennel had been inconvenienced beyond belief, yet remained so gracious. Now Mrs. O’Toole was providing for their needs, but who would pay? Charlotte had used the last of her money on that foolish train ticket, and for what? To try to reach a man who probably didn’t even remember she existed. And although she’d tried twice this evening to telephone her parents, there was still no answer. She was certain they were still traveling, enjoying a holiday while her heart was breaking and her life falling apart.

  The tears began again.

  “Oh, God. If you really speak to people, I sure would like to hear from you now. How can I ever make it up to Mrs. Marshall? Where are Mother and Father, God?”

  Her whispered prayers unsettled Darcy, and she worried his crying would disturb the others. She got out of bed and walked around the room with him, swaying gently when she stopped in front of the window.

  “Shh-h. Shh-h, my little sweetheart. It’s going to be okay.”

  She wasn’t sure if she was saying the words more to the baby or to herself. How could anything ever be okay again? Everything she had imagined—the happy reunion with Reginald, getting married and becoming a real family—suddenly seemed like a naïve, adolescent dream. She felt incredibly foolish. Childish.

  Charlotte wondered what it was like to hear from God the way Reverend Fennel did. Did he see a vision? Hear words? He’d said he couldn’t describe it, he just knew he was being directed. That’s what she needed: direction. She remembered seeing a Bible on the nightstand when she came to bed. Flicking on a lamp, she laid Darcy, now asleep, in his little bed and picked up the Bible.

  As a child in Sunday school, she’d memorized verses and the books of the Bible in order, but it had all been just a game to her. If there was something in that book that could really apply to her right now, she’d need some kind of divine intervention for it to seep into her mind and heart. She flipped the book open to the approximate middle, not knowing where to turn but willing to absorb anything that might offer her strength or comfort or direction. Her eyes fell on the page.

  She was not prepared for the eight words that touched her heart like soothing lotion on sunburned skin: Be still, and know that I am God.

  At Mrs. O’Toole’s breakfast table the next morning, Charlotte ate quietly with Reverend Fennel, Mrs. Marshall, and the other boarders. As they left one by one, however, conversation turned to plans for the day. Mrs. Marshall intended to visit her insurance agent first thing, and would meet Charlotte at the adoption agency at eleven o’clock. Reverend Fennel would drop Charlotte off there before going to work at his church.

  “Once I get some insurance money, I will pay you whatever we owe,” Mrs. Marshall told Mrs. O’Toole. “However much that turns out to be.”

  “No need to worry about that now. You have more than enough to think about.” Mrs. O’Toole poured Reuben more coffee and carried the dirty oatmeal bowls into the kitchen.

  “That could take a long time, Maggie,” Reverend Fennel said.

  Knowing Mrs. Marshall, Charlotte expected an argument. Instead, she simply said, “I know.”

  Reverend Fennel took a sip of his coffee. “Will you try to rebuild?”

  Mrs. Marshall sighed. “I don’t know. I may have to, in order to collect what’s due me. But honestly, right now I don’t have the heart for it. I’d just as soon get a job cooking for someone else for a while and not have the responsibility.”

  “Sometimes the wait for something provides the time a person needs to get their heart where it needs to be,” Reverend Fennel said. “Working for someone else awhile might turn out to be good medicine. Especially if you have a good boss.”

  Charlotte absorbed the adult conversation with fresh eyes and ears. She had never had to worry about providing for herself before, but now that she had Darcy to think about, everything looked different to her. Even if she couldn’t keep him, it would soon be time for her to think about what her contribution to the world would be—besides simply taking from it.

  “Well, wish me luck.” Mrs. Marshall rose from her seat and gathered her purse from a table by the front door.

  “I’ll do better than that,” Reverend Fennel said. “I’ll pray.” He rose from the table. “Charlotte, let me know when you’re ready to
leave. I’ll be in my room.”

  Two hours later, the reverend and Charlotte pulled up in front of the large redbrick building with GOVERNMENT SERVICES on the sign in front.

  “Would you like me to come?” Reverend Fennel asked.

  “Yes.” Charlotte nodded. “Please.” Gathering Darcy into her arms and as much courage as she could into her heart, she headed inside. She discovered Mrs. Marshall already in the lobby, giving a secretary their new telephone number. When Charlotte’s name was called, all three of them entered Mrs. Shelton’s office.

  “Come in.” The woman smiled. “Please, have a seat.” She waved toward the chairs while she closed the door, and Charlotte took a seat between Reverend Fennel and Mrs. Marshall as they introduced themselves all around.

  “So. There’s been quite an unexpected turn of events, I hear?” Mrs. Shelton said, still smiling. “May I? Just for a moment, of course.”

  She held her arms out to the baby, and Charlotte handed him over with some reluctance. She’d met the woman only once before, when her parents first brought her to Winnipeg and arrangements were made for the adoption.

  Mrs. Shelton walked around the desk to her own chair, snuggling Darcy closely and admiring him. “Such a sweet boy. You surprised us all, coming early, didn’t you, little fellow?”

  Then she turned to Charlotte with a warm smile. “He’s beautiful, Charlotte.”

  “Thank you.”

  The woman stood and handed Darcy back to Charlotte across the desk, then sat down and directed her attention to a file folder.

  “Now. As you know, the original agreement was for our adoptive parents to receive your baby as soon as he was born. Of course, circumstances have changed all that. How old is he now?”

  “He was born last Thursday, so he’s six days old,” Charlotte said.

  “Six days is a long time for a child to stay with his mother.”

  Charlotte only nodded.

  “The parents are still very interested. However, there was one stipulation from the start. They requested that their own family doctor examine the child and that he be granted a clean bill of health before the adoption takes place.”

  “Wait a minute,” Mrs. Marshall said. “That hardly seems fair. Parents who are expecting a baby in the usual way don’t have that option. They get what they get.”

  “You’re right, of course. Think of such conditions as a consolation prize for not being able to have a child in the usual way. We allow it.”

  Mrs. Marshall let out a harrumph and crossed her arms.

  “In this particular case,” the agent continued, “it may help you to know that the parents have already lost two children to genetic defects.”

  “Oh.” Mrs. Marshall uncrossed her arms. “I guess that is different.”

  Charlotte felt instantly defensive. “The hospital staff in Fort William said he was perfect.”

  “I understand. Still, it is within the adoptive parents’ rights to have him examined by a physician of their choosing. I’m sure it will be only a formality.”

  “How long will that take?” Reverend Fennel asked, glancing at Charlotte. “As I’m sure you’re aware, the idea of separation becomes more difficult with every day that passes.”

  “Yes. And that’s why I suggest we place the baby with a foster family until the parents are ready to take him. The foster mother could take him this afternoon. We have made an appointment for the doctor to see the baby tomorrow. He’ll be run through quite a battery of tests, so there will be at least a two-hour wait for whoever takes him to the appointment.”

  To Charlotte, the woman’s words were beginning to sound like they were coming through a long tunnel. “A foster family? No. Please!” She looked toward Reverend Fennel, willing him to side with her. To her surprise, it was Mrs. Marshall who spoke up.

  “Now that just seems cruel. Bad enough the little tyke has to be handed to strangers. He shouldn’t have to go through it twice.”

  Mrs. Shelton sighed. “It isn’t required. But it is advised, for your sake, Charlotte.”

  Charlotte blinked hard to keep the tears at bay. “It will be hard no matter what. Please let me keep him until the parents are ready. I’m sure you can see that’s best for Darcy.”

  She looked directly into the woman’s eyes, and Mrs. Shelton held her gaze for several seconds. “You do realize he will be given a new name as well?”

  Charlotte just nodded.

  “Mrs. Marshall?” Mrs. Shelton said. “If I understand the arrangements that were made, until Charlotte’s parents are located, you are still her guardian. Do you agree to support her until she is returned to them, even while the baby remains with her?”

  Charlotte looked at Mrs. Marshall. How could the woman even consider offering Charlotte support when she was homeless and unemployed, recently widowed and probably penniless? And as soon as Mrs. Shelton knew all that, she wouldn’t even consider letting Charlotte keep Darcy. This was going to be good-bye, she was certain. She couldn’t bear to look at her little boy, but stared at her shoes, waiting for the final blow.

  But Mrs. Marshall surprised her again.

  “Yes,” she said. “I will.”

  Charlotte looked up in grateful surprise, but Mrs. Marshall only looked at her out of the corner of her eyes.

  “Very well.” Mrs. Shelton slid a card across the desk. “Then see to it that the baby is at the office of this doctor tomorrow morning at ten o’clock. You’ll hear from us again when all the results are back and the adoption is ready to be finalized.”

  Charlotte placed the card in her purse without looking at it. All that mattered was that she had been granted one more reprieve.

  CHAPTER 27

  Reuben couldn’t believe it had happened again so quickly, after all these years. God had given him another directive, another vision. But this time, he was sure God was mistaken.

  Long before they’d returned to Winnipeg, Reuben had recognized that he could never act on his childhood affection for Maggie Marshall. The very thought was ludicrous on every level. The woman’s husband had been dead all of two weeks. The scandal that would result if he pursued her would be beyond recovery. Never mind that she’d given him no indication she felt the same about him. The way things had gone in her first marriage, she was probably done with men forever. And now she was in a boatload of trouble and grief. This was no time to be thinking thoughts of romance or making life-changing decisions. Even if by some miracle she did respond positively to a romantic overture, it would be only out of sheer desperation. That would be unfair to Maggie, and their partnership would be doomed to failure.

  Besides, she’d make a miserable pastor’s wife. If he could assist her and be a friend as she worked through the issues surrounding the fire, maybe help her get reestablished, then great. But nothing further could happen between them, Reuben had decided. This was only sensible.

  Although they were all living under the same roof, over the past few days he’d seen Maggie, Charlotte, and Darcy only in passing or at meals—which he figured was probably for the best. After their visit to the adoption agent, Maggie had spent the next few days dealing with her insurance company, accompanying Charlotte and Darcy to the doctor, and looking for job openings, while Reuben had spent a day and a half visiting parishioners and two full days writing his sermon.

  Both Maggie and Charlotte were planning to come to his church this Sunday. Both of them seemed to have a lot to sort out with God, and maybe he could help with that too. But not if there was any hint of something more going on in his heart.

  But then, the dream.

  It had come as he rehearsed his Sunday sermon. He’d often found that reviewing his sermons in his head as he lay in bed at night helped him to deliver them better. But this time, just as he reached the end and was ready to roll over and fall asleep, it happened. It came as clearly as anything he’d ever experienced, yet he could not accept it.

  “That can’t be right, God,” he said aloud. “It just can’t. You
would never direct me to do something so crazy.”

  Besides, this time the vision wasn’t like the others. For one thing, he was awake. At least he thought he was.

  He rolled over and tried to ignore the message that came to him. But suddenly his room was filled with light, although it was still night. Time seemed to stand still—or to move very rapidly, he couldn’t tell which. He closed his eyes tightly against the light. Was he asleep? He wrestled with God until he heard this:

  How many times have you asked yourself what might have happened if you’d done the crazy thing I directed you to do back then?

  Reuben knew exactly what this was about. He was eighteen years old when he’d received the direction to ask Maggie Sutherland to the spring dance. But back then, everyone knew Maggie was going with Douglas Marshall. They were practically engaged. Reuben could not bring himself to do it. It was the only time he’d failed to follow a directive, and he’d always thought that’s why they stopped coming.

  “Many. I’ve wondered countless times what might have happened,” he confessed in a whisper. “I should have obeyed. I might have saved her untold grief at the hands of that man.”

  But this was different.

  “God, I’m sorry, but this just seems wrong. I can’t just jump into this. You’ll have to give me something more, something that won’t make me doubt this is from you and not just a longing from my own confused heart.”

  Is it that you’re unsure it’s from me? Or is it that your pride won’t allow you to risk rejection?

  Though Reuben couldn’t hear the words with his ears, they were impressed upon his heart in a way that was new, yet undeniably powerful.

  “It’s both,” he admitted, as much to himself as to God. “I don’t want to feel like a fool. Besides, my plan to wait just seems a lot more godly and, well . . . sensible. Doesn’t it?”

  Silence.

  Could the others in the house hear him? Was the stress of the past several days taking its toll, causing him to imagine things? Reuben heard nothing further, and the next thing he knew, the sun was up and the clock on his dresser said it was time to get up. He felt as if he hadn’t slept for a minute . . . and he was quite certain that God had heard his no regarding a marriage proposal to Maggie Marshall.