A Summer Romance

by Tracey Smith

  Maggie pulled herself from the tub, drying off and wrapping herself in a big bath robe. She walked into the bedroom, again expecting to find Aaron waiting for her, but the room was vacant. Maggie wondered if she’d dreamt the sound of someone coming into the room.

  She walked over and sat on the bed. All she wanted to do was curl up and fall asleep, but she knew Aaron was downstairs cooking her dinner. She tried to summon the energy to get off the bed and go downstairs. She glanced over to the nightstand and stared a moment, feeling like something was missing. The journal! It was gone. She jumped from the bed and hurried downstairs. She found Aaron in the kitchen stirring something on the stove.

  “Did you take a journal off my nightstand?” she demanded. He turned to her, his face a mask of confusion.

  “Why would I take your journal?” he asked.

  “It wasn’t my journal. I found it at work today and I accidentally brought it home. I put it on my nightstand and now it’s gone. I thought I heard you come into the room while I was in the bath,” Maggie explained. Her hands were trembling.

  “Maggie, I’ve been down here the whole time,” Aaron said calmly. “Maybe you put it somewhere else.”

  “No, it was on the nightstand,” Maggie insisted.

  “Are you sure?” Aaron’s calm tone made Maggie feel ridiculous. Maybe he was right. Perhaps she hadn’t put it there. Her mind was so foggy with exhaustion. Maggie slumped against Aaron’s chest and he wrapped his arms around her comfortingly.

  “I feel like I’m losing my mind,” Maggie said as she snuggled into his arms.

  “Maggie, you need to stop looking for ghosts around every corner,” Aaron said as he stroked her back in a soothing rhythm. “I know how you feel. When I first got here I kept waiting for the catch, for the cost of this new life I was being given. But we’ve been here all summer and nothing bad has happened.

  “I know this whole scenario is bizarre, but that doesn’t mean that it has to be bad. So some crazy old woman brought us both to this town. Maybe she had her own reasons, maybe it was just fate. Frankly it doesn’t matter. All that matters is that we’re here, that we met. And as soon as the harvest is over we can leave.”

  Maggie’s head snapped up and she looked at Aaron questioningly. “Leave?” she asked with a catch in her throat.

  “Sure. If that’s what you want. I’ve got work in Savannah, and you mentioned that you wanted to apply to school there. We don’t have to stay here. We can leave this place behind us and it’ll just be a story of the weird way we met,” Aaron assured her, and for the first time that day Maggie was able to take a deep breath. Maybe he was right, maybe the why didn’t matter. Maybe the mystery of Ms. Devereaux didn’t really matter either. What mattered was that Aaron wanted her to come to Savannah with him, that they had a future beyond Devereaux Manor.

  “So what’d you make me for dinner?” Maggie asked smiling.

  ~22~

  The following morning Maggie woke with a new sense of clarity. Apparently, while sleeping, her mind had worked through all the questions that had overwhelmed her the day before.

  The journal she’d found was a record of all the babies that Doc Robbins had delivered. The listings were the names of the parents, the child, and the date of birth.

  Agnes Devereaux’s name was listed next to a date that came approximately nine months from the date of the spring cotillion, the night that she’d been found making love to the farm boy. There were several reasons that her name could have been listed alone, but one thing was certain. Agnes Devereaux had given birth to a child, and the only evidence, the journal, was now missing.

  Someone had taken that journal from Maggie’s room, probably the same person who had taken the photograph, perhaps the same person who’d left a light on in the East wing last night.

  Maggie woke with the determination to lay this mystery to rest. She was ready to leave, to go to Savannah with Aaron and begin a new life there. But first she needed to know why Agnes Devereaux had chosen them, why she’d brought them here, and Maggie believed the answers lay in the East wing.

  Aaron had already gone into the orchards to work with the harvesting crew. Maggie was alone in the house and had the whole day ahead of her. She quickly dressed and left her room headed for the stairs, but when she reached the landing she paused. Rather than head down to the kitchen to start her coffee she found herself staring down the dark halls of the East wing.

  She’d become quite comfortable in this big house over the last two months. She’d already explored every room on the first floor and as she found herself taking steps toward the forbidden East wing she tried to convince herself that this was no different, just a few more rooms. That didn’t keep her pulse from racing as she stepped into the shadowy hallway.

  The East hall was so dark it seemed to extend infinitely. She found a switch on the wall and flipped it. Several wall sconces flickered to life. A few of them remained dark and one continued to flicker, creating a dim eerie lighting in the hallway.

  Maggie pushed ahead, refusing to let her fear and anxieties make her turn back. She walked farther into the hall, checking the handles on the doors as she passed. They were all locked.

  The farther she got down the hall the hotter it became. The air was humid and smelled of dust and disuse. This was obviously an unused wing of the big house. Some of the lights were burnt out, the air vents closed off, and the doors of the rooms locked. Maggie found it odd that while the rest of the house was kept immaculate even in the owner’s absence that this wing would be allowed to fall into such decay.

  As she neared the end of the hallway Maggie decided that it had probably been exhaustion causing her mind to play tricks on her. There had been no light in this hallway. Then she noticed that one of the last doors in the hallway was slightly ajar. She approached the door slowly reaching out with a trembling hand and pushing it open, dim lighting spilled into the hallway.

  Maggie staggered back a step. She hadn’t really expected to find anything, but here it was, a room at the end of this unused hallway with a light on inside.

  It was a small room with a single window shrouded by heavy curtains. The light was coming from a small lamp on top of an old dresser. Several large pieces of furniture were shrouded under drop cloths covered in a thick layer of dust. Maggie scanned the room noting another door on the far wall, presumably leading to an adjoining room. Slowly she stepped inside, not sure what she was looking for but feeling as if she was on the verge of finding something important.

  She approached one of the hulking masses of nondescript furniture pulling back the drop cloth and stirring up a cloud of dust. She coughed and fanned the clogged air until it cleared. When the dust settled and her eyes adjusted she realized that below the drop cloth was a baby crib.

  Her heart was pounding with excitement as she stared down into the old crib and saw a tiny blanket with the name Jonathan embroidered on it. She reached out slowly, fearful that the aged blanket would crumble to dust at her touch. Just as her fingertips brushed the surface she heard a noise come from the next room. She pulled her hand back quickly. She held her breath as she stared at the door that connected this room to the next. She heard another sound, a scuffling noise. Could someone be in that room? Slowly she began to back away, trying not to make a sound.

  The sound of the doorbell pierced the silence, ringing through the house with an ominous bellow. Maggie turned and fled down the hallway her mind racing with questions.

  When she reached the landing she stopped to catch her breath. Her mind was overwhelmed with possibilities. She couldn’t focus them. The doorbell rang again. She took a deep, stabilizing breath before going down the stairs to answer the door.

  She was too busy trying to process what she’d found that she hadn’t even stopped to wonder who could be at the door. When she opened it she nearly fainted.

  “Margaret, my God look at you!”

  “Mother?”

  “When I first learned that my daughter
was living on some plantation in Georgia I could scarcely believe it. But if someone had told me that I would find you here, barefoot in thrift store clothing I would have called them a bold faced liar. I can hardly believe my own eyes!”

  Corrine Overton walked into the house as if she owned it. At her mother’s words Maggie looked down at her cut-off jean shorts and bare feet, shrinking inwardly. Why couldn’t she have arrived yesterday when Maggie had worn a nice dress for work? Her mother always had preferred her in a dress.

  “Honestly, Margaret, what has come over you?” Corrine demanded.

  “You know I don’t like it when you call me that,” Maggie practically whispered. The old argument was an instinctive reaction. She still hadn’t really accepted the fact that her mother was standing here.

  “And you know that I don’t care for the way you’ve butchered your perfectly respectable name,” her mother countered.

  It was surreal to be standing here with her mother whom she hadn’t spoken with in over six years and to be having the same old argument they’d had countless times throughout her youth.

  “What are you doing here, Mother?” Maggie finally asked.

  “I’ve come to take you home,” her mother replied with a tone that implied the reason for her presence should be obvious.

  “Home?” Maggie felt breathless and slightly light headed.

  “Look, you’ve had your little adventure, but it’s time to get your life back on track. Your father has a very nice young man for you to meet. We’ve arranged a dinner for this coming weekend. That will give us enough time to get you home and cleaned up.” Her mother reached for her hand and examined Maggie’s fingernails with disdain.

  “I’m not leaving,” Maggie said, pulling her hand back. “I have responsibilities here. I’ve been paid to stay the length of the summer. I can’t just leave.”

  “I’m well aware of the arrangement you made with Ms. Devereaux. I’m sure your father can deal with the termination of that agreement to everyone’s satisfaction. He knows how to handle her.”

  The room started spinning. Maggie couldn’t breathe. This couldn’t be happening.

  “I don’t understand,” Maggie whispered breathlessly.

  Corrine Overton sighed with impatience. “Ms. Devereaux is the one who informed me that my own daughter had traipsed down to this little nowhere town to become a glorified housekeeper,” her mother spat the words at her.

  “How? How do you know her?” Maggie needed to sit down she felt as if she was going to faint.

  “Agnes Devereaux is one of your father’s largest investors. He’s known her for years. She used to summer in the Hamptons. I always told your father I thought she took an unusual interest in you as a child, and this just proves my point. She’s practically kidnapped you and turned you into her maid for God’s sake!” Corrine ranted. “But at least she had the decency to send a letter informing me of your whereabouts since you didn’t have enough respect to do so,” she added with a pointed look at Maggie.

  “She knows father? Have… have I met her before?” Maggie stuttered. Her mind was spinning trying to connect all the pieces. One thing was certain: she had been chosen. Agnes Devereaux knew her, knew her family, and had chosen to bring her here. But why would she tell her mother where she was? What kind of game was she playing?

  “Really, Margaret, we don’t have time for all this nonsense. Go upstairs and pack your bag. I’ll wait for you here.” Corrine Overton gave directions with the authority of someone who was never denied.

  “No.” Maggie finally found her strength. She’d stood up to her mother once before and she could do it again. “I’m not going anywhere.”

  Corrine Overton’s eyes flashed with indignation. “You listen to me, young lady,” her mother said, taking a step closer, “I may have put up with you skipping off to Boston to pursue some pipe dream about becoming a doctor, but I’ll be damned if I will allow my daughter to be the ‘help’ for some crazy old woman in this godforsaken town. You will gather your things and you will come with me this instant.”

  “Maggie, is everything okay?” Aaron’s voice broke through the tension in the room and Maggie spun around to see him walking in from the kitchen.

  He was dressed in his usual work clothes, faded jeans and a white tank, his blonde curls were held back by a bandana, and a smear of dirt was streaked across his suntanned face. Their eyes met and the chemistry between them was undeniable.

  Maggie turned back to her mother, taking in her perfectly pressed silk suit and hard expression. Under her mother’s scrutinizing stare she felt just like a timid child again. Her two worlds were colliding, her past and her future.

  “Margaret, who is this man?” her mother demanded.

  “Aaron Miles,” he introduced himself. “I’m the groundskeeper here.”

  Her mother laughed, a short bitter sound.

  “The gardener, Margaret, really?” she asked. “I would have thought even you would realize you were better than that.”

  “He’s not just a gardener, Mother. He owns his own landscaping business,” Maggie defended. She looked back to Aaron for support, but his expression was guarded.

  “Enough of this nonsense,” her mother said, waving her hand dismissively. “You are an Overton. You come from a well-respected New England family. You were not raised to be a gardener’s mistress. Whatever little summer romance you think you may have had here is over. You will come home with me and I will not hear another word about it.”

  “I’m not leaving,” Maggie said again. “Not with you. This may not be the life you wanted for me, but it’s my life and I’m going to live it how I choose. I’m sorry you made the trip.” Maggie stepped back toward Aaron and took his hand. His expression was unchanged.

  “You are going to throw away everything I have done for you, every opportunity, every privilege, for him?” her mother demanded.

  “No. For me,” Maggie corrected. “I never wanted your opportunities, your privileges. All I ever wanted was your love. But you only ever saw me as a reflection of you, a pawn that you could play to further your own standing in society. You never saw me for who I was. This is me, Mother. Take it or leave it.”

  “You will regret this. Maybe not tomorrow, but someday you will look around you, look at your life and realize what you gave up, what you could have had. And then it will be too late.” Corrine Overton turned and stormed out of the house, her final words hanging heavily in the silence.

  Maggie stood staring after her mother, feeling oddly detached from the situation. She wondered if she’d ever see her again, but no emotion came with that thought. She felt nothing at all. She just felt drained, empty.

  “She’s right.” Aaron’s voice was heavy with emotion when he spoke. Maggie turned to him in confusion. “I’m just a gardener. I can’t give you the life you deserve.”

  “That’s not true,” she protested.

  “It is. I’m an ex con who will spend the rest of my life mowing people’s lawns and someday you will finally see that. You will realize that I’m not good enough for you. I knew it from the beginning and I never should have let this go so far.” Aaron pulled his hand from Maggie’s and took a step away from her.

  “Don’t say that. It’s not true. I love you!” Maggie tried to reach out to him but he took another step back.

  “I’m sorry for that,” Aaron said sadly. “I never should have allowed that to happen. I never meant to hurt you.” He kept backing away and she just watched in disbelief unable to stop him, unable to move.

  “I’m sorry,” Aaron whispered his voice heavy with tears. Then he turned and walked away leaving Maggie alone in the big house.

  She just stood there staring after him, feeling completely and utterly destroyed.

  “Why?!” she screamed out into the empty house “Why are you doing this to me?!”

  She crumpled to the ground, her knees hitting hard on the marble floor. “Why did you bring me here?!” she shouted angrily, then she
buried her face in her hands and cried.

  ~23~

  Maggie tried to sleep. She still felt emotionally exhausted but she’d already spent the last day in bed and sleep was evading her. Ms. Brandy had been very understanding when Maggie had called to tell her she was sick with the flu. She wished it was the truth, wished that her pain was physical. She could take medicine to ease those symptoms, but there was no cure for a broken heart.

  She’d been avoiding Andi’s calls. She knew she couldn’t avoid reality forever, couldn’t stay in bed forever, but she felt like getting up out of bed and going out into the real world would be acknowledging that her relationship with Aaron was over. It would be the first step to moving on. She wasn’t ready to take that step, wasn’t ready to let go. But she couldn’t stay in bed any longer. She felt fidgety and restless. Her body ached from disuse and she needed to move.

  The warm water of the shower washed over her and released the tension in her sore muscles, but she felt like an empty shell, hollow on the inside. She dressed mechanically and walked downstairs to make a cup of coffee. She was shocked to realize it was dark outside. More time had passed than she thought.

  She still went through the motions, sitting at the kitchen island and sipping her coffee. She finally glanced at the clock over the stove and saw that it was midnight. She was instantly reminded of the midnight picnic her and Aaron had shared at the lake. Her heart constricted with pain at the memory and then she was suddenly filled with a new sense of determination.

  This was not over, she wouldn’t let it be. She needed to see Aaron, needed to talk with him again. She wasn’t just going to give up, and she wasn’t going to let him give up either. She stormed out the back door into the dark night, charging ahead with a sense of urgency.

  She easily found the path that led to the barn and pressed ahead into the dark forest. She noticed that the woods were eerily silent tonight. The sky was shrouded with clouds. There were no stars, no moon. The forest seemed to be mourning with her. All of the magic was gone.