The Unforgiven

by MacDonald, Patricia

  It was on the desk. She could hear Grace snort and mutter to herself before the typewriter’s clacking resumed. Maggie had stared at the wallet for a long time before she picked it up and put it in her purse. They hadn’t mentioned it for the rest of the day.

  Maggie looked out at the street and sighed. She had only to get through this afternoon and the week would be over. She thought longingly of the house on Liberty Road, where she would escape from the strains of this new job. Two whole days of peace and solitude. Maggie pushed the door open and stepped outside. The Island Luncheonette was out. It would mean passing by Croddick’s, and she wanted to avoid that today. Maggie decided to head down toward the dock. She remembered passing a seafood place there the day she arrived. The wind snapped at her, and she put her head down against it as she started toward the water.

  “Maggie.”

  She stopped and looked up. The shout fell short of her, like a rope thrown across a canyon. Figuring it was only the wind, she kept walking. Suddenly Maggie heard steps behind her and, as she turned, Jess jogged up beside her.

  “I thought you heard me,” he panted.

  “I wasn’t sure.”

  “Have you eaten?”

  “No,” she admitted.

  “Me neither,” he said. “Will you join me? If you’re not doing something else, I mean.”

  Maggie studied his face for a moment. He was smiling at her, his eyes guileless and dark as forest pools. His angular face, although young, was already deeply lined. She repressed a sudden urge to reach up and trace the hard outline of his cheekbone into the shadowy hollow of his cheek. It’s only lunch, she argued recklessly with the warning voice inside her.

  “Okay,” she agreed.

  “You sure you’re not from New England?” Jess asked in a wheedling tone.

  Maggie shook her head and gripped her menu.

  “You’re so reserved,” he said. “Real Yankee trait.”

  She allowed herself to smile. “Are you sure you are?” she chided him.

  Jess nodded. “Born here, grew up, married…”

  “Married?” Maggie exclaimed, immediately regretting her tone.

  “Let me finish,” he admonished. “Got divorced here. About five years ago. The only substantial amount of time I spent off this island was when I went to college. After graduation I worked in Boston for a few years, but I really missed this place. So, I came back.”

  Maggie hesitated, reluctant to verbalize the question that was on her mind. “Does your family still live here?” she compromised.

  “No. Sorry to say. My parents moved down to Sanibel, an island off the Florida coast, when my dad retired. Winters just got to be too much for them. I had one brother, but he was killed in Vietnam.”

  “I’m sorry,” said Maggie, biting her lip.

  Jess shrugged. “He’s buried here on the island. Otherwise it’s just me.”

  “And your wife?” she ventured.

  Jess smiled at her. “My ex? No. Sharon always blamed this place for all our problems. She was a summer person when I met her. Her folks have a house out here and used to come in July. Their place is not far from Thornhill’s, as a matter of fact. Anyway, after we got married I wanted to live here year round, but she began to hate it. Said it was too bleak and lonely. She was depressed eight months of the year.”

  “But you wouldn’t leave?” Maggie asked, an accusatory note in her voice.

  Jess paled slightly and licked his lips. At once Maggie realized that he had been trying to dismiss a painful subject as lightly as possible. She felt a stab of remorse as she watched the distress surface in his eyes.

  “It’s true that I wanted to stay,” he admitted. “I love this island. It’s my home. But I don’t think it was entirely my fault.”

  “You don’t have to explain,” she interrupted him.

  “We had our problems,” he concluded lamely, “like most couples.”

  “I didn’t mean to pry,” she said. “It was none of my business.” She began studying the menu. She could feel his eyes on her as she pretended to debate her selection.

  “It’s all right,” he said, smiling at her. “I don’t mind.”

  Alarmed by the warmth in his voice, Maggie avoided his eyes. “How’s the food here?” she asked.

  “Try the lobster salad,” he said. An awkward silence fell between them. “How about you?” he asked finally. “Have you ever been married?”

  Maggie lowered the menu and faced him. “No,” she replied.

  “Never?” He seemed surprised.

  Feeling uncomfortably as if she owed him a confidence, Maggie groped for a simple explanation. “There was one man,” she admitted cautiously. “I loved him, but it didn’t work out.”

  “Why not?” Jess persisted.

  “It just didn’t,” Maggie said firmly.

  “Do you ever see him?” Jess inquired.

  Maggie stared him straight in the eye. “He’s dead.”

  Shaken by her blunt response, Jess hurried to apologize. “I’m really a clod sometimes. It’s just that I wanted to know more about you. I didn’t mean to tread on sensitive ground…”

  “It doesn’t matter,” said Maggie, returning to her menu. “I’m over it.”

  The words on the menu wavered and started to dissolve before her eyes. She could feel Jess’s worried eyes on her, but for a moment she had the uncanny sensation that if she looked up she would see Roger sitting across from her. She pictured him vividly in her mind’s eye, with his gentle eyes that always looked sad despite the laugh lines around them.

  “I could sit here and look at you forever, Maggie.” She could still hear his voice.

  “I wish you would,” she said earnestly.

  Roger smiled. “It’s so simple for you, isn’t it?”

  Maggie shrugged. “I love you. That’s simple.”

  Roger sighed and turned his head to stare out the window.

  “What’s wrong?” she asked, squeezing the hand that held hers below the tabletop.

  He turned his troubled gaze on her. “This is all so unfair for you. You deserve a young man. A fellow who could take you out openly. Spend all your evenings, every free moment together.”

  “I don’t want any other man,” she protested stubbornly.

  “But you can’t be happy this way,” he insisted.

  “I’m happy with you,” she said, her eyes lowered. “I don’t mind the rest.” The last was a lie, but she did not want to complain to him. The prospect of losing him was worse than any loneliness or shame she might endure as a result of their affair.

  “We’ve got to get back to the office,” he said quietly, putting his napkin beside his plate.

  She looked up at him and smiled bravely. But she could see that he was not fooled by her protests. He knew that it was not all right, but he was helpless to change it.

  “Do you know what you want?” Jess asked kindly.

  Maggie started and looked at him blankly for a moment. Then smiled. “I’ll try that lobster salad,” she said, hoping it would please him.

  Jess leaned back in his chair and signaled the waitress. As he turned, Maggie noted, with an unfamiliar longing, the line of his jaw, the breadth of his chest. It had been years since a man held her. The last time was the night of Roger’s death. Jess turned back to her and was adjusting the flower vase on the table so that he would have a clearer view of her.

  “Cheer up,” he said pleasantly. “If you don’t like the lobster you can send it back and get something else.”

  Maggie regarded his open countenance pensively. A weight descended on her heart. Change the subject, she thought.

  “I’ve been thinking about getting a puppy,” she said.

  “For lunch?” Jess feigned indignation.

  Maggie laughed. “I thought you could tell me where to look for one. I’m kind of rattling around in that house.”

  “Not offhand,” he said. “But I’ll nose around for you.”

  “I’d apprec
iate it,” Maggie said. Determinedly, she smiled at him. “Now, tell me about growing up here.”

  Maggie waited on the steps outside while Jess paid the check. It went pretty well, she thought with some satisfaction. The conversation, after the initial awkwardness, had been surprisingly easy.

  “Seems to have warmed up a bit,” Jess observed, joining her on the steps. The door banged behind him.

  “It’s much nicer now,” Maggie agreed.

  “I really rattled on, didn’t I,” he said, shaking his head. “Motor mouth.”

  Maggie laughed. “I enjoyed it,” she insisted.

  “I’m usually the tall, dark, handsome, strong and silent type,” he protested. “Not a magpie.”

  “You were just answering the questions.”

  “Okay this time, lady,” he said. “But you’re going to get your turn.”

  Maggie frowned and turned away from him. She had not considered another time. Or the prospect of her turn. She started down the steps. “We’d better be getting back, I guess.”

  “Hey, what’s the rush?” he asked, catching up to her. “You’re with the boss.”

  “I know,” she said. “I’ve just got a lot to do this afternoon.”

  “You trying to make me look bad?” he teased.

  “No, of course not.”

  “I’m kidding,” he said.

  They fell silent as they walked along, Maggie setting a brisk pace. The confidence she had felt in the restaurant ebbed away. She wanted to sneak a glance at his face, to see if he was bored, or annoyed with her. Instead, she kept her eyes trained on the cobbled street in front of her. I’ve forgotten how to act around a man. All those years of sly women. I must seem ridiculous to him.

  As they turned the corner onto Main Street he broke the silence. “You know, I like being with you,” he said thoughtfully. “It’s been a long time.”

  It felt like being jabbed with a pin. She looked up at him, her eyes wide with surprise. Just then the heel of her shoe caught in the space between two cobblestones, and she stumbled.

  Jess grabbed her before she could fall and pulled her arm securely through his. “You all right?” he asked. “Did you hurt yourself?”

  Maggie flushed with relief and embarrassment. “Just my pride,” she admitted.

  Jess started to laugh. After a moment, Maggie began to giggle. They stood in the street, her arm locked in his, laughing. Maggie’s eyes softened as she looked at him.

  “Let’s go,” he said at last.

  They turned together and started to walk. All at once, Maggie stopped short. Standing on the opposite side of the street, her face white, her eyes wide, was Evy. The girl stared at Jess and Maggie, her eyes fixed on the spot where Jess held Maggie’s arm. Her thin body trembled in the fawn-colored jacket that she wore, and her spiky hair was wild, disheveled by the wind.

  “Hey, there’s Evy.” Jess spotted the girl and began to wave vigorously at her. “Come on,” he said, starting to drag Maggie across the street. “We can all walk back together.”

  Maggie disengaged her arm from his. “No,” she said uneasily. “You go ahead.”

  Jess looked at her, perplexed. “Is anything wrong?”

  “No,” she insisted. “I just forgot. I have to stop in the drugstore.” She made a vague gesture behind her.

  Jess shrugged. “Okay. See you later.”

  Maggie watched as he crossed the road to Evy. The girl greeted him coolly. The two exchanged a few words, and then Maggie saw Evy smile shyly at him. The two turned and started toward the office. Evy had her face up toward Jess. His large body seemed to shield her from the ocean breeze. Next to Jess, Evy looked fragile, and very young.

  With a start, Maggie realized that she had been about Evy’s age when she had fallen in love with Roger. For a moment she recalled the pleasure of the first time he had lifted her from her desk chair and drawn her to him. After months of imagining just such a moment. She had been so blissfully happy and ignored all the guilty feelings that the stolen kiss aroused. If only she had known how it would all end. Maggie shook herself out of the memory and watched Jess and Evy disappearing up the street. She wondered if there was anything between them. The girl was clearly infatuated with Jess. Perhaps something had happened at one time. A flirtation, or an affair. It might still be going on. The thought caused a stab of jealousy which Maggie had not expected. Disturbed, Maggie started for the drugstore.

  Whatever it is, or was, she thought, you don’t want to be in the middle of it. It was obvious that Evy wanted him and cared for him. It was just another good reason to stay away from Jess.

  It was twenty minutes before Maggie was able to get back to the office. An old woman in a tattered seal skin coat was discussing the merits of various indigestion remedies with the pharmacist and would not be hurried. Maggie considered leaving behind the few items she had found to buy, but then she remembered that it was Friday, and she didn’t want to come to town on the weekend if she could help it.

  She glanced at her watch apprehensively as she hurried up the path to the Cove News building. As quietly as possible she opened the front door and went in, pulling the door gently shut behind her. She was relieved to see that there was no one in the hall. Maggie slipped off her jacket and hung it on one of the hooks of the coat-rack. As she approached the office door she heard voices drifting out. She composed her face, preparing to walk in and interrupt the conversation. Suddenly the sound of her own name jumped out at her from the rise and fall of the voices. She stepped back against the wall.

  “I don’t know where she is,” said Grace querulously. “She should have been back half an hour ago.”

  “Finish the story, Tom.” Maggie recognized Evy’s flat tones.

  The man cleared his throat and spoke in a voice that sounded vaguely familiar to Maggie. “So,” he said indignantly, “I look up and there she is, walking out the door wearing two of my silver combs in her hair just as brazen as you please.”

  “Get out,” Grace breathed.

  “That’s so,” he affirmed. “And I chase after her. And when I ask her if she means to pay for it, she gives me this song and dance that she doesn’t have her wallet.”

  “She left it here,” Evy volunteered.

  The sound of their incredulous laughter floated out into the corridor.

  “I’ll tell you something,” the man went on soberly. “I was thinking about telling Jack Schmale about this.”

  “Why?” Evy asked. “She gave them back, didn’t she?”

  “That’s not the point, young lady,” Tom barked. “Is it, Grace? The point is that she’s new around here, and right off the bat she’s lifting something out of my store.”

  “Jack’s off island until Monday,” Grace volunteered. “Meeting of the state police chiefs.”

  “I don’t see what the big deal is,” said Evy. “If she gave them back and she offered to pay for them, I don’t see why you’d want to go ratting on her. Anybody can make a mistake…”

  “Hey,” Grace bridled, “whose side are you on, anyway?”

  “Nobody’s side,” Evy insisted. “I’m just saying…”

  “Well now, Grace, maybe the girl has a point. Maybe I shouldn’t be bothering Jack with this. But you can bet I’ll keep an eye on her. After all, you can’t be too careful with new people…”

  Grace and Evy shifted abruptly in their chairs, and Grace cleared her throat. Aware that he had lost his audience, Tom Croddick looked behind him. Maggie stood in the doorway, her eyes carefully devoid of expression.

  “Oh.” His embarrassment made his voice crack. “Hello.”

  Maggie ignored him and walked over to her desk. She picked up a manuscript and focused her eyes on it.

  Tom raised his eyebrows over the black frames of his glasses and rolled his eyes meaningfully at the other two. “Well,” he said heartily to Grace and Evy, “I guess you girls are busy. I’d better be getting back too.”

  Grace nodded. “See ya, Tom.”

&n
bsp; The shopkeeper started for the door. “’Bye, girls.” As he passed through the doorway he nearly collided with a large man with a gray beard who was barreling through, a camera swinging from a strap around his neck.

  “Hey, Tom.”

  “Owen,” Tom said. “How are you?”

  “Good, good.” The big man pumped the hand of the departing storekeeper and then turned to the others. “Hello, Grace, Evy.” He looked over at Maggie and then looked again, a puzzled expression on his face.

  Grace spoke up. “She’s new. Emmett hired her.”

  “I’m Owen Duggan,” he said to Maggie. “Wildlife photographer extraordinaire and sometime free-lance paparazzo for the Cove News.”

  Maggie took his extended hand. “How do you do?” she said softly. “I’m Maggie Fraser.”

  “Nice to meet you, Maggie. Although you’re looking a little pale there. You should get out more. Breathe the salt air.” He thumped on his barrel chest with a flat palm. Maggie forced a smile.

  He looked at her sharply for a second. From the first moment he saw her he was struck by the thought that there was something oddly familiar about her. He felt certain that he had seen her face before. He was just about to say so, but then he dismissed it with a shrug. Owen seated himself on the edge of Grace’s desk and leaned toward the older woman with a wicked smile. “Charley keeping you happy, Grace?”

  “He sure is,” Grace trilled with a flirtatious toss of her head. “How are things with you?”

  “Just fine,” Owen announced, clapping his hands and rubbing them together. “I’m going to be making another trip to New York in a few weeks. An editor over at Life Magazine may run a whole feature on the series of wild birds that I did. So, I’m here to pick up the negatives. Did Jess use any of them?”

  “He used one,” Grace said, “but we’ve got the whole lot back now. Maggie,” Grace called out imperiously, “get Owen’s negatives for him. I think they’re over on the file cabinet.”

  “I was up to the firehouse just now,” Owen said conversationally to Grace. “They just delivered the new ambulance.”

  “Oh, yes,” said Grace. “Charley was mentioning something about that to me last night.”