Watermarks

by Jarvis, J. L.

  "To Miss Maeve's castle," said Beth, turning toward Robin with a wink. But Robin's attention was diverted.

  "Aunt Maggie, wait!"

  "Oh! What was I thinking?" Maggie pulled the mixing bowl from the sink and handed it, along with a large wooden spoon, to a relieved Robin. With delight, Robin cleaned the bowl of its remaining dough, while Beth gazed out the window and wondered about Eben Wakefield.

  On a warm day in summer, Maggie took Andrew to her favorite picnic spot near the lake. The sun lit the pebbles beneath the clear water as the two played like children along the shore, skipping stones across the surface. Lifting her shoes and her skirt above water, Maggie stepped in bare feet across slippery rocks to the opposite side of the Stony Creek, where she took off in a run to the picnic blanket. Andrew caught up with her and tackled her around the waist, falling and pulling her with him to the blanket. There she lay, on her back, amid the strewn remnants of lunch, propped up on her elbows and breathing in the sweet smell of wild grasses.

  Andrew reclined beside her and studied her face. Running had tinted her cheeks. His own color deepened as he watched her inhale the sweet summer scents and exhale until his breathing fell into sync with hers.

  He pulled his gaze to her eyes, which were bright with the vigor of unrealized hopes. So different was she from the cool porcelain figurines of his usual society. She was part of the sumptuous fabric of nature into which he now willingly sank. All around them was beauty, and in the center was this pretty young woman, warm and vibrant, here for him to want, and for him to have.

  A cloud passed over them, the shade from which caused Maggie to shiver. Andrew spread his jacket on her like a blanket and held it in place to warm her.

  His touch took her by surprise, causing her ebullience to melt away. Acutely aware of his presence and their seclusion, Maggie's heightening senses overpowered her. His face hovered inches away. She felt his closeness, yet did not want to look for fear she'd expose her feelings. But she did both. Grass and trees quivered in the breeze. Their eyes met as wisps of hair stroked her cheekbones. His eyes strayed to her parted lips, and then to her chest as it rose to take in breath.

  "The weather is changing," said Maggie.

  Andrew's eyes swept to her face, but he seemed not to hear. Feeling self-conscious, Maggie sat up beside him. He lifted her hand to his lips. She turned to him, her lips parted with a question, but the words were soon lost. His eyes brimmed with unvoiced desires. Thus transfixed, he stroked his knuckles down her neck. His lips brushed her chin. As though she would find there the breath now so scarce, her lips flew to his. From her shoulders, his palms slid to her waist as he guided her down to the ground, and she let him. He rolled onto her.

  Maggie felt breathless. "No. Not here." She pushed away and then stood to escape. She stepped off the blanket and onto the grass in search of equilibrium. Grass rustled as Andrew joined her. He put his hands on the front of her waist, and he pulled her against him. As he buried his face in her hair, he told her in hot whispers what he wanted. She could no longer think. She could only feel.

  "I'm not ready for this." She pulled away weakly. Andrew brought his hands to her shoulders and urged her to face him, which she did, knowing that beneath his eyes she would burn.

  "It's not just for now," he insisted, "I want you forever."

  "It's too fast."

  "Maggie, don't pull away. Look at me."

  In his eyes, she saw what she had thought she would want, and yet something was missing. She was not ready to give herself to him--not yet.

  "Run away with me, Maggie."

  All she could do was to stare, stunned by his rash words.

  He dropped to his knees before her and buried his face in her hands, brushing his lips on her fingers. "I want you. I'll marry you."

  Maggie was dazed He took her breath when he pressed his face to the folds of her skirts and clutched at the fabric. She drowned in her senses, unable to think. Her body was awake to the insistent pressure of Andrew's hands on her ankles and calves. Her eyes shut as her face grew flushed.

  She grabbed hold of his shoulders. "Not now. Not like this." Her voice was not hers.

  "But I want you. Now. Like this."

  She wanted him, too. With her remaining resolve, she pushed his hands away until they were safely free of the entangling fabric of her dress. She felt no less entangled.

  Andrew stood and faced Maggie and leaned very close without touching. His lips just missed hers on the way to her ear, where his whispered her name as she'd never heard it before. With a husky sigh from his throat he said, "Maggie."

  She was slipping away, her resolve further gone with each whisper.

  He spoke softly again, his breath's heat on her neck. "Tell me you love me--you want me."

  "Yes."

  "Yes what?"

  With each word, his lips brushed closer to hers, his mouth full and parted and longing for her. "Say it."

  "Yes...I want you," and she did.

  Helpless and hungry, her lips parted to meet his mouth. She needed to taste him.

  Several yards in the distance, two fishermen walked by the creek, laughing and talking.

  Maggie watched them disappear into the trees by the creek.

  "We can't do this. Not here. There are people."

  Andrew glanced toward the sound of the voices, and then looked at Maggie. He drew her into his arms and closed his eyes to his mounting desire. The voices drew nearer. He cursed. "Tonight, then." He held her and pressed hard against her. He smoothed Maggie's disheveled hair and clothing with lingering hands. Maggie inched backward until Andrew took hold of her hands. "At midnight. Be waiting for me."

  "I can't just run away with you."

  His eyes searched hers. Did he know she was helpless to form a clear thought when he did that? "Why not?"

  "Because, it's not--I'm not--I just don't do things like that."

  He seemed about to smile. He held her hand and slid his fingertips from her wrist to her elbow. She stared at his hand on her arm. "But you can."

  "Well, yes, in theory I could."

  He gave her another one of those deep looks that muddled her thinking, and left it at that. He said no more about it, which left Maggie thinking of nothing else for the ride home. There were too many people about when he pulled up in front of her house. They both knew that a public kiss would scandalize the neighbors, so there was no kiss. Andrew got out and lifted her down from the buggy. Just before he let go of her waist, he leaned close and whispered into her ear, allowing his lips to brush against her earlobe as he said, "I'll be back at midnight." Then he walked her to her front door and left her with one deep look.

  Maggie could still feel his lips on her ear as his buggy pulled away from her house. She felt hands on her waist and remembered his body against hers. Every place his hands touched was burned into her memory.

  When has she agreed to go with him? She hadn't. But at some point during the ride home, she knew that she would. They would have each other completely, forever and soon. Maggie MacLaren was eloping, and not with just anybody. She was to marry Andrew Adair, a rich gentleman from the lake. Her head spun with excitement. No doubt, tongues would wag when news spread of their marriage, it being so sudden and all. She could hear them already. She sat on the porch swing and grinned at the thought of the nasty old biddies running out of fingers as they counted the months after the wedding.

  A movement drew her attention to the sidewalk. Jake was walking toward the mill, in the opposite direction. She called out to him, but he seemed not to notice. Again she called to him. "Jake!" He must have heard. She stepped down from the porch steps, and waited for him. How could he not hear her? Maggie opened her mouth to call once more, but instead ran after him. She caught up with him and grasped his arm to stop him. She stood panting to catch her breath. Now that she had caught up with him, she was unsure of what to say.

  As Jake looked at Maggie, not even his anger could mask how he felt. He had seen her
come home, and had keenly noticed how different she was. He knew he had lost her and, for all of his physical strength, he could not walk away. Not even his pride could rescue him from the wounds that Maggie would unwittingly inflict.

  She was relieved to see the old warmth in Jake's eyes, but it weighed on her heart to see that warmth mixed with pain. She was drawn to his friendship. She wanted to warm herself in it, and share her happiness with him. It never crossed her mind that doing so might cause him pain.

  When she told him her news, he said nothing.

  When his silence stretched beyond what she could bear, she said, "Can't you be happy for me."

  "I'm sure you'll be happy enough for the both of us." Jake's words were harsh, but not as caustic as the feelings behind them. Either to soften the impact, or hasten his own pain, he asked, "Does he love you?"

  "Of course he does."

  Jake forced the words from his throat. "And you love him?"

  That seemed to annoy her. "Would I marry him if I didn't?"

  He took that as a yes, which he had expected. The light in her eyes he had not, and the blow landed hard. Jake nodded and made his best attempt at a smile.

  Maggie watched him walk away, then turned and walked into the house, fixing her mind on her impending wedding. How she wanted to tell Beth of her wedding plans, but Hank was planted in a kitchen chair. She had no desire to hear anything Hank would have to say on the matter. She would wait until Beth was alone, and then tell her.

  Instead, she went up to her room and began to make plans. They had agreed to elope the following night. Maggie had convinced Andrew to wait one day so she could make arrangements for someone to take her place at the library. She wrote a letter of joyous explanation, which she would leave for Beth to find after she had gone.

  "Mrs. Andrew Adair," whispered Maggie. "Maggie Adair." Mrs. Adair." Maggie laughed and began to pack her bags.

  The next morning the sun shone solely for Maggie as she awoke to the warmth of the new day. Birds may well have warbled melodiously, so idyllic was her life at this moment. It was the dawn of her new life. Her best dreams lay before her.

  Bottles rattled and chimed from a passing milk wagon. Two horses plodded along with a coal wagon in tow. Johnstown charmed her with its quaintness, now that she knew she was leaving. A number of practical questions arose with the daylight. She and Andrew had not discussed where they would live after the wedding. Still, Maggie knew that Andrew would see to such matters. There would be no more worries. Money made life easy. They would marry and everything would fall into place.

  On her way to the stairs Maggie stopped to look in on Robin. Robin was not one to hop cheerily out of bed in the morning. She generally needed some coaxing. Maggie walked over to her bed. "Robin," she said in soft sing-songy tones as she touched the girl's cheek. Maggie's face turned ashen. "Oh, Robin." She touched the girl's forehead and cried out, "Beth!"

  "Mama?" whined Robin with a raspy little voice.

  "She's coming, honey," said Maggie as she heard Beth's footsteps running up the stairs.

  "Oh, my Lord, she's burning up!" Beth exclaimed as she touched the child's forehead and cheeks with a mother's hand. Robin's neck was swollen.

  Maggie was on her way down the stairs. She pulled on her coat as she told Beth, "I'll get the doctor." All the while, she thought through where the nearest telephone was, and whether it would be quicker just to go to the doctor's house. If Robin had the fever, there were bound to be others with it. They, too, would seek the doctor's services. She would need to leave a message. She wrote a note to take with her, just in case.

  Late in the day, the doctor arrived to find Robin's face covered in a rash, except for a pale area surrounding her mouth. His diagnosis confirmed their fears. "Scarlet fever," he said.

  As Beth took care of her daughter, she could not ignore the rising fear within her, but she turned from it and did what had to be done for her daughter. Then she kept herself busy to avoid the waiting that brought on the worries and fears.

  Hours passed before Maggie convinced Beth to go downstairs for some tea and, Maggie hoped, a moment of rest. Maggie sat in the rocking chair beside Robin. She observed her niece's fitful sleep, frustrated that there was nothing she could do to ease her suffering. So many times before, she had looked at Robin and wondered at the precious peace of a child's sleeping face, but not now. There was no peace, only sickness that threatened to take a young life, and it frightened Maggie. Sleep seemed one step closer to death. She shuddered as she walked over to the window to distance herself from such thoughts.

  Maggie looked out at the night sky. The rippled imperfections of the window glass made the world appear frightening. The moon seemed to wave as though mocking her. Tree branches were gnarled. There were no shadows except those that loomed over Robin.

  "Not this child. You will not take this child," Maggie said with stark defiance until she could no longer see through her tears. "Please?"

  In the kitchen below, Beth sat facing the fire, her tepid teacup on the table beside her. With a sigh, she lowered her head into her hands and wept.

  "God, I'm not strong enough," she whispered, as she got up to care for her little girl.

  Throughout the evening, Robin hovered in a world of troubled dreams as her temperature soared. Maggie brought tea and compresses to soothe the child's throat and neck, while Beth sat at Robin's bedside giving her daughter comfort and assurance that she, herself, did not possess. There was too much waiting and too little to be done.

  Maggie found herself pausing from fatigue, reluctant to face her own silent thoughts. She turned from the window and caught a glimpse of Beth. Through Beth's tears and clenched jaw, her face brandished the mettle of maternal love. It was a force. The sight dwarfed the strength of Maggie's own feelings for Andrew. She watched her sister and prayed that Beth's love, and her faith, would be powerful enough to thwart death's pull on her child. Beth smoothed some matted hair from Robin's forehead, and lay her head down on the bed beside her. Maggie watched Beth's weary shoulders relax as she drifted into an involuntary respite. She crept out of the room, leaving Beth to her sleep. There was nothing more to be done.

  Maggie eased the front porch door open then closed it behind her. She shut her eyes to allow the cool outside air soothe her tired face. A sigh escaped unheeded as she slumped into the nearest chair and welcomed the numbness that overtook her. She lapsed into thoughts of Andrew and the marriage that must now be postponed.

  She would explain it all to him at midnight, when he arrived at her doorstep to take her away. With no telephone in her home, there had been no way to reach him without leaving the house and the people who needed her. Besides which, a telephone call would have required an explanation she was not yet ready to offer. She could not trouble Beth with talk of marriage--not now. Beth had all she could manage just caring for Robin.

  Even if Maggie had been able to get to a telephone, it would have been difficult to reach Andrew without arousing suspicion. The only telephone at the lake was in the clubhouse. Who would have answered? Would they have conveyed her message? Accurately? There were no proper words to impart her message without provoking troublesome questions. Even the right words in the wrong hands could be disastrous. Their plans for marriage were better left secret, at least for the time being. Maggie was not so naïve as to think that the people in Andrew's world would countenance this marriage without suspicion. While she trusted Andrew's love, she was not quite willing to trust those around him.

  The only thing to do was to wait for Andrew to arrive at the appointed hour and break the news to him in person. He would be disappointed, but their lifetime together could wait. Love was strong. It would endure a delay. All that mattered was that they were in love.

  Night fell and Maggie waited for Andrew. When Robin was better they would marry. But she did so wish that tonight they could be on the way to their wedding, and to their wedding night. Maggie shivered in the cool night air. Pulling her sweater aroun
d her, she recalled their afternoon in the sun.

  With eyes blue as the lake he drew her to him. His passion lay close to the surface and was easily given. While hers was not easily won, his attention was dizzying. His desire was reckless. Maggie reveled in it. In that afternoon moment, Andrew had needed her as much as she wanted him the rest of the time.

  It was quiet now. There was no movement inside the house. Maggie curled up on the porch swing and drew a lap quilt about her. The summer night air was cool and calming. Aided by the gentle swaying of the porch swing, Maggie's mind drifted, neither asleep nor awake, amid amorphous memories. She needed to rest if she was to help Beth tomorrow. Perhaps she would just close her worn eyes until Andrew arrived. She would hear his buggy, his footsteps. She did not feel herself drift off to sleep.

  The wheels of a cart rolled over the cobblestones as if to mumble the coming of dawn. The subtle noise crept into Maggie's consciousness, as she lay slumped across the porch swing. She stirred to adjust her stiffened body to a more comfortable position. She might have drifted back to sleep, but for the sound of footsteps. A man cleared his throat. Through squinting eyes, Maggie tried to make out the blurred shape of legs--a man's legs--blocking the sunlight.

  Chapter 14

  Maggie jolted to an upright position.

  "Andrew!"

  But as Maggie's vision cleared, she recognized the heavy brogans and crumpled laborer's trousers. Disappointment sank in. She raised her eyes as far as the creased and callused hands, and the ragged fingernails embedded with grime.

  "I just got off the night shift. I was on my way home."

  "Jake."

  "I saw you here."

  "I thought you were--"

  "I know who you thought I was," Jake said in a low voice. He looked toward the street, although there was nothing there to see but the early morning daylight filtering through a morning mist. He glanced at Maggie with steely intensity.

  "Maggie, what are you doing here?" He spoke in a quiet voice.