by Dinah McLeod
“If that happens again after we are wed,” Wesley said, gently wiping her cheeks, “you will take the same punishment entirely on the bare, and only after I’ve washed your mouth out with soap.”
She grimaced at the very thought and considered telling him she’d never marry him under such conditions. But they would both know it was a lie, because despite the awful things he promised, she couldn’t resist relaxing in his arms as he comforted her. Besides which, she’d only end up right back over his knee, so in this case, it was best to just keep quiet. She was learning after all.
“Alright, are you well enough to see my family, or should I take you home?”
The thought of seeing Maggie after she’d just been so soundly spanked was an unsettling one. But the moment the thought hit her, she knew she wanted to see her. Because right at that moment she knew what she would do. She knew how to get even with Maggie Swift.
It should have come to her sooner. The only reason it hadn’t, she supposed, was that she was unaccustomed to the swift discipline that Wesley’s family was so used to. Which made the answer obvious. It had been right there in front of her face the whole time! How could she humiliate a woman grown, living with her brothers? Why, she’d do something that would get Maggie spanked, of course! And if she happened to be spanked in front of the entire family, while Libby herself was there, even better! The idea was so good, so deliciously perfect that she couldn’t believe she hadn’t thought of it before now.
The only thing she didn’t know was how. But no matter. It would come to her. She just knew it.
* * *
It was harder to get Miss Perfect Maggie Swift into trouble than she’d originally anticipated. She’d certainly tried, several times over, but so far, she hadn’t had much luck. Her first plan had been to attack Mrs. Swift’s pride and joy: the herb garden. During her visits, she’d learned that the matriarch fussed over those plants nearly as much as she did her own children, and they often teased her that she loved the sprigs of rosemary, mint, and oregano more than she did them. Her only rebuttal tended to be loud laughter that neither confirmed nor denied their accusations.
So, Libby had assumed that it was a foolproof plan. She’d waited for a moment when everyone was out of the house, excused herself with the claim of needing a glass of water, and made her way into the kitchen, glancing over her shoulder the whole while. She’d made a beeline for the pots of herbs that Mrs. Swift kept in the windowsill. Then, looking around once more, she’d plucked every single stem from one of the pots. These she’d laid on the counter—she didn’t know what to do with them, and hadn’t thought that far ahead. She wanted to make the woman mad, but not devastate her. She was going to head back for the second pot when she heard a noise. Was that someone at the door?
Her heart pounding loudly in her ears, Libby carefully, quietly slipped out the back door and walked around to the front of the house where Wesley was.
“Did you get your water?”
“What? Oh.” She flushed. “Right. Yes. Yes, I did.”
“Good to know.”
“So, when do you think we’re going to have dinner?”
“Hungry now as well?” Wesley chuckled.
“Well, no, but… actually, yes.”
He gave her a weird look. “Are you alright? You’re acting a bit…”
“A bit what?” she asked, too defensively.
“I don’t know.” He shrugged. “But if you don’t feel up to staying, I can take you home.”
“I don’t want to go home.” There was nothing that could drag her away now! Not when she had to see the plan she’d set in motion play out. Wouldn’t Maggie be surprised when she finally got what was coming to her?
“Alright then. If you’re sure.”
“I am,” she said, turning away when Wesley still looked unconvinced. Libby waited, thinking he might say more, but before he had the chance, Mrs. Swift called them in.
This was it! This was her moment! Libby was careful to walk naturally—Wesley might become even more suspicious if he saw her rushing ahead and taking the steps two at a time to get inside before anyone else.
It was hard, pretending that nothing was out of the ordinary when she was this gleefully, meanly excited. But Maggie had it coming. She’d brought it on herself with those stunts she’d pulled.
It seemed like it took forever for everyone to come inside, and when they did, it took even longer for Mrs. Swift to notice the sprigs on the counter.
“Who did this?” she asked, holding the leaves aloft.
“Maggie did,” Libby spoke up quickly, not sparing the other girl a glance even though she could feel eyes on her.
“Why, how thoughtful!” Mrs. Swift exclaimed, sounding as far from furious as it was possible to get.
Wait, what? What was happening?
“You remembered I needed them for the pie tomorrow!” Her face was radiant as though she’d picked a surprise bouquet of wildflowers off the counter rather than leaves of her prized herb plant.
“I don’t honestly remember doing it, Mama.”
“Well, you must have, if Libby says so.” Mrs. Swift gave her a brief smile then turned her attention back to her daughter. “You’re such a caring girl, Maggie. Help me start dinner, won’t you?”
Libby snuck a glance and saw that Maggie’s expression was puzzled as she walked toward her mother. Well, drat! That certainly hadn’t gone like she envisioned it! What were the odds of Mrs. Swift planning on using that mint? If she’d gone for the rosemary, there would have been hell to pay! But no cause thinking like that—it wouldn’t do any good. Not that she was going to give up—far from it.
Her next try was a bit more creative, if she said so herself. The herbs, on second thought, had been child’s play. If she really wanted to get Maggie in trouble, she’d have to find something bigger, something that would really get the normally calm, warm matriarch riled up. She tried thinking about what would upset her own mother—the list was as long as her arm, and varied, but in the end, it was just the ticket.
Libby’s mother was mighty particular about her sewing, which was the only domestic task she considered herself suited for. And Mrs. Swift was much the same, as far as sewing was concerned. She liked her stitches straight and neat and expected the same of her daughter. Now, Libby’d never taken too much to the ‘art,’ but she knew how to take a stitch out. Which is exactly what she did. When Mrs. Swift had run to town, she’d told Wesley that she needed to rest while he was out in the fields. He’d sent her off with an order to sit a spell, and she’d followed it to the letter as she pulled the quilt over her lap and set to her task.
It was the perfect plan! She didn’t even have to be nervous this time, because if one of the boys happened inside while she was doing it, they’d just assume she was helping and think nothing of it. It would never occur to either of them that she might not actually know how to help. Either of the Swift women would know better, of course, which was why it was lucky they were in town.
Libby found, much to her relief that it went faster than she’d expected. Of course, it was far easier taking a stitch out than putting one in. She’d undone three dozen in no time and decided that that would have to do. She set it back over the arm of the couch, stuck the needle back in its cushion, and headed back outside.
To her surprise, she saw Wesley coming toward her. Her heart began pounding hard in her chest—he knew she was up to something. She desperately searched his face, relaxing slightly when he saw her and smiled.
“There you are. Feel better?”
“Yes, thank you.”
“I was thinkin’, Mama still isn’t back yet. Would you fancy going to town for dinner?”
Her heart warmed at the suggestion, but no sooner than he made the suggestion, she found herself torn. If she left, then chances were that Mrs. Swift and Maggie would come back while they were out. She’d miss all the excitement that she’d worked so hard for! Perhaps she’d hear about it, but it just wasn’t the
same!
“Oh, I don’t know… we just went into town for dinner not too long ago.”
“I s’pose so. But I’d like to take you again.”
His words made her heart give a little squeeze. He really was sweet to her. Oh, he was making this so hard! “I don’t want you spending your money on taking me to eat when we can just have dinner here.”
“That’s thoughtful, darlin’, but like I said, Mama isn’t here right now, and I’m getting hungry.”
“I’ll make us something.” The words popped out before she could stop them and it was only sheer desperation that made her say them at all. She groaned inwardly as soon as they reached her own ears.
“You will?”
“Well, sure. You don’t think I could?”
“No, I didn’t say that. I just—”
“I can put together a sandwich just as well as Miz Watkins can,” she said, feeling defensive now.
Wesley was clearly trying to hide a smile, which only furthered her irritation. “I’m sure you can, darlin’.”
Oh, so he was poking fun at her now, was he? Well, she’d show him!
“Follow me,” she ordered, turning on her heel and marching back into the house. It might have been her imagination, but she could have sworn she heard him muffling chuckles at her expense.
Indeed! Did he think she couldn’t feed him, if she set her mind to it?
She’d indignantly stormed into the kitchen, giving him irritated looks through narrowed eyes, which he was either ignoring entirely or just pretending not to see, when she stopped short. Hmm. Come to think of it, she didn’t know where anything was. Would it be silly now if she were to ask him?
Yes, she decided, almost immediately. He was already having a hard enough time not laughing at her as it was; she better not give him any more fodder by asking for his help.
She turned and there, mercifully, was a loaf of bread. Mrs. Swift must have made it this morning. Fine. She could cut bread. She never had before, but the village idiot could do that much. Now, all she needed was something to put with it. Where would one keep ham?
Right at that very moment, she heard the door open. She held her breath, hardly daring to hope.
“Howdy, Mama. Hey there, Mags. How was your trip to town?”
“It was fine, thank you,” she heard Maggie answer.
“It was, but Maggie and I saw the time and thought we ought to be getting back. I know you boys are hungry.”
“Trent’ll be along any minute, but actually, Libby has offered to make dinner for us today.”
What! She gasped aloud before she could stop herself. She couldn’t believe… surely, her ears had misheard! And what was worse, she knew he was teasing her, because she could hear the mischief in his voice! She might have to add Wesley to her list of Swifts that had wronged her.
“Well, that’s mighty kind. I’ll just go on and see if she needs any help.”
Libby turned around and tried to make it look like she was busy, but all she ended up doing was looking helplessly at the loaf of bread as Mrs. Swift came striding into the kitchen.
“Hello, Libby. How are you today?”
“I’m fine, ma’am.”
“I’m so glad.” Mrs. Swift began to talk about their visit into town and the new fabric at the dressmaker’s shop. All the while, she was pulling out ham and a knife and slicing it and then the bread so efficiently she made it look like no work at all. “And some cheese to go with this, don’t you think? It’s in the larder.”
Libby nodded and felt useful at last as she retrieved the hunk of cheese. Mrs. Swift cut up some of that, too, and just like that, dinner was ready.
“We have a cook,” she felt the need to explain, her voice low and ashamed.
“That must be nice for your ma,” the older lady replied, not looking the least bit put off. “Don’t you worry, dear. All things come in time. You may not be able to see it yet, but I promise you, one day you will.”
“You really think so?”
“I know so. One day you’ll be cooking for your own family and you’ll do it as though it’s as natural as breathing.”
Libby smiled tentatively, even as she still doubted. Still, it was nice for her to offer hope. It almost made her feel bad for the trick she’d played with the quilt. But the moment she carried the plates to the table and saw Maggie’s perfect, smug face, her guilt vanished. She hadn’t done it to Mrs. Swift, she’d done it to Maggie. And if ever a girl deserved to be taken down a peg or two, it was that one.
Trent came in and everyone washed up before they sat down to dinner. The family ate with the usual chatter and comradery that Libby had become accustomed to. But for the first time since she’d been partaking in meals at their table, she didn’t enjoy it. Mostly because she had a ball of excited nerves in the pit of her belly, growing bigger by the minute. She couldn’t wait until they found it. She couldn’t wait.
Only, it seemed that she would have to. So she waited. Dinner seemed to drag on forever. She wanted to clear her throat and say, “Don’t you need to be getting back to work?” But she didn’t. She couldn’t draw any attention to herself.
And then, when the chairs had finally been pushed back, Maggie and Mrs. Swift seemed to tarry over doing the dishes for what felt like an eternity while she stood and watched. She’d ventured to help, of course, but Maggie blatantly ignored her and Mrs. Swift didn’t seem to hear, which left her standing around and feeling quite the fool. It made her even more eager for Maggie to pay the piper, but she was beginning to think that she’d have to go home without the quilt being discovered at all. But finally, mercifully, the matriarch suggested they retire to the parlor.
“All the other chores are finished for the day,” Mrs. Swift announced with a satisfied smile. “We could get in a few stitches while there’s light left. What do you say?” she asked her daughter.
“Alright, Mama. I’ll get the needles.”
Oh, this was going to be good! Libby clasped her hands together and squeezed so that she wouldn’t let out an excited giggle. As Mrs. Swift picked up the quilt and eyed it, Libby couldn’t help but lean forward in the rocking chair.
“Maggie, weren’t you the last one with the quilt?”
“Yes, Mama, I had some time to work on it yesterday.”
“Well, I don’t know where your head was at, girl. You did something, but it certainly wasn’t work on it.”
Oh, this was good! She’d never heard Mrs. Swift sound so riled up before!
“Begging your pardon, Mama?”
“Come over here and look for yourself. It looks like an entire day’s work has been taken out and will have to be redone.”
Maggie’s features were pulled into a perplexed frown as she did as her mother ordered. Mrs. Swift passed the quilt over to her and stood there, her hand on her hip and her toe tapping as she waited.
“I… Mama, you have to believe me, it wasn’t like this when I finished.”
“Well, it certainly is now. I suggest you get to work fixing it.”
“I’m sorry, Mama. I’d never leave it like this, you know that.”
“To be honest, I don’t know what to think. You just set to fixing it.”
Maggie looked like she wanted to say more, but couldn’t find the words. Libby, meanwhile, was biting her lip to hide the smile that threatened.
“While you’re doing that, Libby and I will have some lemonade out on the porch.”
She couldn’t help it. A bit of her smile shone through. It wasn’t exactly what she’d hoped for, but the stricken look on Maggie’s face was almost as good.
And true to her word, Mrs. Swift got tin cups for the two of them. With another look back at Maggie, who was sitting on the couch and staring down at the quilt in her lap, Libby followed her out the door.
* * *
The following day, Libby was finishing getting dressed when she heard her mother call her. She glanced in the looking glass, pleased with the reflection looking back at her.
Her skin was creamy, her blue eyes bright. Her reddish brown hair was curling at the ends today, which meant that it would probably rain.
“Libby! Did you hear me?”
“Coming, Mama!”
When Libby walked into the parlor she did a double-take to see Maggie Swift sitting on the couch, sipping out of one of their fine porcelain cups.
“Howdy, Libby.” The girl smiled at her serenely.
“Ah… hello, Maggie. What brings you here?”
“Wesley asked me to send word that he wouldn’t be able to make it today.” She pulled a regretful face. “He sends his regrets, but it looks like rain later, so he and Trent have some work to finish first.”
“Wasn’t that thoughtful for her to come all this way?”
Libby turned to gape at her mother. Normally, such words would have been a thinly veiled insult, but she saw nothing but a genuine smile on her mother’s face.
“I said, wasn’t that thoughtful, Libby?”
She turned back to Maggie, who was sipping her drink calm as you please. She looked back at her mother, puzzled. What was going on here?
“Libby?”
“Yes.” She cleared her throat and directed her words at Maggie. “Yes, it was very thoughtful. Thank you, Maggie.”
“Oh, it was no trouble,” the girl simpered at her.
“You know, I just remembered that I have some cookies in the kitchen. My brother sent them from back East. You have to try one, Maggie.”
She felt her mouth drop open. Her mother never even shared those cookies with her! They were reserved for company only. Company. She already knew all too well that her mother didn’t think that Wesley’s family qualified. What on earth was going on here?
“That would be wonderful. Thank you kindly, Mrs. Park.”
Libby’s mother beamed a smile at Maggie and left to fetch the promised treat.
The moment she was gone, Maggie set her cup and saucer on the end table and was on her feet. She moved toward Libby in smooth, quick strides and had the girl by the arm before she even saw her coming.
