The Wind Harp

by BJ Hoff

  He lifted his head, dropping his hands away. “It’s a terrible thing to say, I know. God forgive me, but I can’t help but wonder if things won’t be better for the children without them.”

  Maggie spoke for the first time. “It’s not such a terrible thing to say, Pastor Wallace. Those people hurt their children in the most unthinkable ways.”

  The pastor nodded. “It’s probably too soon to bring this up, Jonathan, but Regina and I have already talked about it. We couldn’t know how all this would end up, of course, but we decided, if it came down to it and the children needed a home—ours is open to them. We’ve grown more than a little fond of both of them. We always wanted children, you know, but it never happened. We’d raise Huey and Selma as our own, if they were agreeable, even adopt them if the law allows. Will you vouch for us if it comes to that?”

  Jonathan went to his friend and gripped his hand. “You know you don’t have to ask. Any child would be greatly blessed to belong to you and Regina.”

  “You’re a good friend, Jonathan. Thank you. Now I need to get home. I wouldn’t want this to get out and have Regina or the children hear it before I can tell them myself.”

  He shook Jonathan’s hand and turned to go. He stopped just before he reached the door. “Jonathan, do you remember the night—it was around Christmas of last year, I believe—after church services one evening, when we were talking about darkness and light? Do you recall what you said?”

  Jonathan tried to think, but nothing came to his mind. “I’m afraid not.”

  “You said you didn’t believe that there was anything or anywhere so dark that God couldn’t bring light to it.”

  It came back to Jonathan now and he nodded.

  “Let’s pray He does just that with this awful thing that’s happened. For Huey and Selma’s sake, let’s pray that God will banish the darkness those children have lived in most of their lives and give them a new beginning, one that’s absolutely flooded with His light.”

  “It seems to me He’s already begun to do just that, Ben,” Jonathan said, taking Maggie’s hand in his own as he watched his friend and pastor open the door and walk out into the night.

  Chapter Thirty-Two

  In Search of a Blessing

  He’s heart-sick with a longing sweet

  To make her happy as she’s fair.

  Coventry Patmore

  On Saturday evening, Jonathan waited until six-thirty before making his appearance at the MacAuley residence. He intended to arrive late enough that the family would have finished their dinner, but early enough that he wouldn’t have to rush through his conversation with Matthew. Although at the moment, rushing through it didn’t sound like a half-bad idea.

  He walked from his house to Maggie’s, leaving the buggy behind. It was a nice if somewhat cold evening, and walking had a way of ordering his thoughts, which he badly needed to do.

  It had also occurred to him that he might need the walk even more once his meeting with Matthew MacAuley ended.

  Even through his gloves, he was aware that his hands were clammy. By the time he started up the stone walkway to the house, perspiration had broken out on his forehead as well, and his knees felt treacherously unstable.

  So this was what it was like to be a suitor. Clammy hands, runaway heartbeat, and a fire in his middle lapping away at his stomach.

  He had known he’d be nervous. But he hadn’t expected to be this nervous. Why was he in such a state anyway? He and Matthew had been friends for years, beginning with that awful time when Maggie was still a child and she and Kenny Tallman were being bullied by Orrin Gaffney and Billy Macken, two of their classmates.

  Over the years, Jonathan had come to hold Maggie’s father in high regard. Matthew could be a hard man in many ways, but he was a good man, one with an uncompromising integrity and an unshakable moral code. Indeed, Jonathan had been pleased when he realized Matthew liked him, even respected him. Although in the beginning the friendship had been somewhat guarded, eventually they’d become comfortable with each other, and a high level of trust had been established.

  That was all well and good, but would any of it make a whit of difference once Matthew learned that his “friend” wanted to court…to marry…his daughter?

  On the porch, he hesitated a moment before knocking. He hoped that Maggie had alerted her father to the fact that he was coming to visit this evening. He doubted that this was the sort of surprise a man like Matthew would appreciate. It would be good if he’d had some warning, so he wouldn’t be caught off guard.

  Coward. The truth is you’re counting on Maggie to bank the dragon’s fire so you won’t get too badly burned.

  This wasn’t going exactly as Jonathan had hoped. Matthew seemed more interested in talking about dogs or President Roosevelt than anything he might have to say.

  The women had almost immediately disappeared to another room after he arrived, most likely the kitchen, since he could smell the rich aroma of fresh coffee. Any other time he might have felt comfortable enough to ask for a cup. “Comfortable,” however, was not a word he would associate with this particular visit.

  Upon his arrival, Maggie had stayed in the front room only long enough to offer a soft hello, accompanied by a look in her eyes that wasn’t far from raw fear, before scurrying out of the room behind Eva Grace and their mother.

  Clearly there was to be no help from that quarter.

  As for Matthew, he looked completely relaxed, even a little drowsy. Jonathan reminded himself that the man had just put in a full day’s work in a coal mine; it was a wonder he could stay awake at all. All the more reason to get on with why he’d come—if he could somehow deter Matthew from the subject of dogs and President Roosevelt’s age.

  “Youngest president we’ve ever had, isn’t he? What is he now—forty-five, forty-six?”

  “Somewhere around there, I believe. Matthew, if—”

  “Aye, well, let’s hope he doesn’t end up at the end of a bullet like McKinley did. Seems as though there’s some who don’t want him in office for the next time around. Myself, I think he’s done a decent enough job since he took over.”

  “I agree. And I feel sure he’ll win the election.” Jonathan hurried on before Matthew could dip any deeper into politics. “Matthew, I know I’m intruding on your evening, and I’m sure you’re tired, so I should get right to the point as to why I wanted to stop by tonight.”

  Maggie’s father shoved his bad leg out in front of him and leaned back contentedly in the massive rocking chair, which looked to have been built especially for a man of Matthew’s considerable size. He said nothing by way of encouragement, but merely sat watching Jonathan with an intent expression. Jonathan noted that his earlier drowsiness seemed to have disappeared.

  He drew a long breath. How many times today had he rehearsed this? And still he didn’t know where to begin.

  “So then, what’s this about, Jonathan?”

  One more deep breath. “Actually, Matthew…it’s about Maggie.”

  Matthew frowned. “What about Maggie? Is there a problem?”

  “No! Well, I don’t think it’s a problem. I hope it won’t be…”

  Jonathan had always considered himself passably articulate. He was a teacher, after all, accustomed to making himself understood. How was it then that over the past hour he had managed to lose the ability to form a single coherent sentence?

  Did falling in love automatically make a man a bumbling fool?

  “Are you all right, Jonathan?” Matthew asked. “You don’t seem yourself tonight.”

  “I’m—I’m fine.”

  My heart is going to implode at any minute, and my stomach is consuming itself, but other than that I couldn’t be better.

  “I need to talk with you about Maggie, Matthew.”

  “Aye, so you said.”

  Just get it over with.

  He cleared his throat. “I’m in love with her. With Maggie,” he added inanely.

  Well, that’s
getting straight to the point, all right. It might have been better to ease into the subject a bit, not hit her father over the head with it.

  The other’s expression never changed. “I know you are.”

  Jonathan stared at him. “You know?”

  Matthew nodded. “I know. But does Maggie?”

  Still trying to recover from his surprise, Jonathan took a moment to respond. “Why, yes. Yes, Maggie knows. But how did you—”

  “I’m neither a blind man nor a fool, Jonathan. And I suppose Maggie fancies herself in love with you, does she?”

  Jonathan nodded. “She does, Matthew. I mean, she seems convinced that she is.” He tried to discreetly wipe his hands down the sides of his trousers, but Matthew followed the movement with his eyes.

  “I can almost anticipate your concern about this, Matthew. That’s why I wanted to talk with you right away, so we could discuss… everything.”

  “I know a lot of men marry younger than themselves, of course,” Matthew went on as though picking up a thread already in place. “And most of those marriages seem to work well enough. But I’m not entirely comfortable with Maggie getting herself into such a situation. Surely you can understand why.”

  Jonathan had just been squashed. He had to find his backbone and find it fast or this was going to end badly. And he couldn’t let that happen. Maggie thought he could handle anything—even her father. He expelled a quick breath. “Matthew, I’d be lying if I pretended not to understand your concern. But will you just hear me out, please? There are a few things I hope you’ll consider.”

  Matthew nodded, but he had that fixed set to his mouth that usually meant his stubborn streak had locked into place.

  “It’s true, of course, that I’m quite a bit older than Maggie—”

  “How much older, by the way?”

  “Jonathan swallowed. “Ah…about fifteen years, actually. Nearly sixteen. But you and I both know couples right here in town with an even greater difference in their ages, and their marriages are solid.”

  Matthew gave another nod. “That’s true.”

  He was being just a little too agreeable. Jonathan wasn’t at all sure he trusted that mild tone of voice.

  Again he reminded himself that Maggie was most likely counting on him, not her father, to come out the victor in this match. And in that instant, Jonathan realized that the only way that was going to happen was if he were totally, unequivocally straightforward with the man sitting across from him.

  “Matthew, I’ll be honest. If Maggie were my daughter, I probably wouldn’t want her to marry a man so much older than her either. I believe I can understand any objection you might raise, except for one, that being if you were to question my love for her. I love Maggie more than my own life. Indeed, I would give up my life for her in a heartbeat.

  “If she’ll have me, I’ll be the best husband I know how to be, and I believe I have the ability to be a very good husband. I will never hurt her, Matthew. Nor will I let anyone else hurt her. I’ll protect her with my life. And I vow to you that I’ll make her happy.”

  Matthew had not changed expression throughout this entire discourse. Did that mean he was getting through to the man? Or was his mind already made up and he was simply letting Jonathan bleed himself out for absolutely nothing?

  Jonathan chose his next words with great care. “I’m not ignorant of the likelihood that I’ll…pass on before Maggie, given our age difference. If that concerns you, I want to reassure you, should that be the case, I’ll leave her well-provided for. I have a little money, you see. Well, more than a little, actually, by way of an inheritance from my mother. Maggie will be taken care of financially, whether I’m…dead or alive. But as long as I am alive, I will make it my life’s mission to see that she’s the happiest, safest, most thoroughly loved woman in Skingle Creek. In the county. In—”

  Matthew put up a hand. “I take your point. You needn’t belabor it.” He shifted in the rocking chair. “Now, Jonathan, you know I think you’re a fine man, as good a man as I’ve ever known. I respect you, just as the whole town does. Maggie could do a lot worse for herself, that’s true.”

  Jonathan’s hopes rose a little, and at last he caught a breath.

  “I don’t like the difference in your years, I won’t deny it. But I wouldn’t fight you on that alone.”

  His hopes slipped a notch.

  “Here’s what concerns me more. You’re a well-educated man—a gentleman—clearly from a fine family, with some money behind you. And because of that, I can’t help but wonder just how long you’re likely to stay in Skingle Creek.”

  Jonathan started to protest, but Matthew cut him short. “No, hear me out. I’ve never understood what you’re doing here, man, in the first place. And to be frank with you, I’ve never believed you’ll stay.”

  Again Jonathan tried to object—and again Matthew waved him off. “The thing is, we’ve lost Nell Frances to a man who moved her away from us. We lost Eva Grace as well, for some years. Aye, she’s home again now, and I intend to make sure she stays here. But it was hard not seeing her for so long a time in between visits. As for Ray—well, the boy’s too young as yet to know which way he’ll go. But there’s something I know about Maggie that I wonder if you know.”

  Jonathan waited, no longer so impatient to counter with his own argument, but curious now about what Maggie’s father was getting at.

  “Maggie, you see, belongs to Skingle Creek. She may not know this herself, but both her mother and I have known it for years. The girl loves this town, no matter how peculiar and unaccountable that might seem to some. When she was away at college and off to her job in Chicago, we could hear it in her letters. And now that she’s home again, I see it in her eyes. Maggie belongs here. This is her place—not only because her family is here…but because her heart is. You take the girl away from here, and it will eventually break her heart. She’s not a city girl, Jonathan. She’d wither up and die in the city if she knew it was forever.” He paused, then added, “We’d lose her for good. And so would you.”

  Jonathan waited until he was sure Matthew had finished. Then he leaned forward on the sofa and locked eyes with the man. “Please hear what I’m saying, Matthew. I love Maggie. But you’re my friend, and I would never lie to you. I have no intention of ever leaving this town. I’m here because God put me here. Maggie knows all about that, by the way. And I’m well aware that you’re right when you say she belongs to Skingle Creek.”

  He paused, knotting his hands together as he continued. “But so do I, Matthew. I belong here. And though I can’t promise you that God will never call me away from here, I can promise you that that’s what it would take to make me leave this town—a call from God.”

  Jonathan realized as he went on that he had never in his life opened his heart to another man, not even to his own father, as he was opening it to Matthew MacAuley. He could only hope it didn’t work against him.

  “I love it here, Matthew. I love the town, the people—it’s home to me. It’s been home to me for years now. Just as it is to Maggie. And I know in my heart that I belong here just as surely as she does. I can’t give you any more reassurance than that.”

  He stopped, flexed his fingers, then asked, “What else?”

  Matthew looked at him. “What else?”

  “What other reservations do you have about my marrying Maggie?”

  That green-eyed stare sharpened still more. “That’s what you’re asking then? To marry her?”

  “Nothing less.”

  “What about Maggie? Is that what she wants?”

  Jonathan got to his feet. “I believe it is, yes. I believe Maggie will marry me if you give us your blessing.”

  Now the strong Irish chin came up, and the eyes narrowed. “And if I don’t?”

  “Matthew—I told you. I intend to make Maggie as happy as I possibly can. And I know full well that if we have to get married without your blessing, it will mean her forfeiting a part of that happiness
. It will hurt her terribly. And it will hurt me. That’s why I’m asking your consent…and your blessing.” Jonathan swallowed. “As I said, your refusal would hurt both Maggie and me a great deal.” He stopped. “But if she’ll have me, Matthew, I intend to marry her anyway.”

  Slowly Maggie’s father hauled himself up from the rocking chair, wincing with the effort. When he straightened to his full height, he topped Jonathan by an inch or two. Enough to make Jonathan feel suddenly small…and, strangely enough, very young.

  For a full moment more, Matthew drilled Jonathan with his piercing green eyes. Then at last he cracked a smile and extended his hand. “Aye, then. Marry the girl if she’ll have you. And it will be with my blessing.”

  Jonathan again wiped his hand down the side of his trousers before grasping the calloused, bone-bruising hand of Maggie’s father. “Thank you, Matthew! I give you my word you’ll not be sorry.”

  Still flashing that thoroughly Irish grin of his, Matthew gripped Jonathan’s hand even tighter. “And I will give you fair warning that if you don’t live up to that pretty speech you just made for me, you’ll be the one who’s sorry.”

  Maggie stopped in the doorway, looking cautiously from Jonathan to her father. They were both smiling. She expelled the breath she’d been holding and took a tentative step inside the room. Then another.

  She saw it right away. Something new, something…different had risen in his eyes. The old hesitancy, the hint of reservation, the questions that had been there before—they were all gone. In their place was certainty, assurance.

  She couldn’t take her eyes off him. Not until her father broke in with a gruff directive: “I’ll be leaving the two of you alone now—for fifteen minutes and no more.” He paused. “And, Maggie, don’t lock up until your brother gets home.”

  He left the room, leaving them to stand and stare at each other.