by Dinah McLeod
“What are you doing?” Libby demanded, trying to shake her loose.
Maggie’s grip grew and her fingernails dug into Libby’s arm. “You listen to me,” she hissed. “I’m only going to say this once, so hear me plain. I know you’re the one behind the strange things going on at home. And if you don’t stop this instant I will make sure my brother drops you so quickly, your head will spin!”
“Really?” Libby’s lips curled meanly. “How do you plan to do that, exactly? He loves me a sight more than he does you.”
Maggie looked so angry that for a moment, Libby feared that she might slap her. But after glaring at her for a long, hard moment, she released Libby’s arm and went to sit back on the couch. “You mark my words, Libby Park. I will do as I say, and you know it. I suggest you cut it out, although it would be better if you were to just stop seeing him altogether, since you clearly don’t care for him a whit.”
The words stung more than she would have thought. She shouldn’t care what his sister thought of her, and indeed, she never had. But somehow, hearing the girl say she didn’t care about Wesley made her heart ache. Surely, she didn’t believe it? If she did, she might be able to convince her brother, after all. She didn’t want to imagine it could be so, but the thought took hold all the same.
Just then, her mother returned with a sturdy box. Libby would know the fancy design on that lid anywhere. Since she was a child, she was taught not to touch that box. And now, her mother was offering Maggie—Maggie!—her pick of cookies.
Maggie selected a small one and began to nibble on it politely. Libby, for the first time in her life, waved it away when the box was proffered in her direction. She couldn’t help but note that her mother looked pleased.
“Have another,” her mother offered when Maggie finished the first.
“Oh, I couldn’t possibly. I really should be going, actually. Thank you so much for your hospitality, Mrs. Park.”
“You’re most welcome, dear. Please, do stop by again.”
After saying that she just might, Maggie took her leave. By the time Libby saw the back of her, she was seething.
“What a lovely girl,” her mother sighed.
That did it! “She is not lovely!” she spat out. “She’s horrible and mean, which must be why you admire her!”
“Why, Libby! Really!”
“And in case it escaped your notice, she is Wesley’s sister! Wesley, you know, the man you despise on principle?”
“Really, Libby, you don’t know what you’re talking about.”
“And offering her your cookies! When’s the last time you asked if I wanted one?”
“You know they’re not good for your waistline, Libby.”
“Well, you must not care about Maggie’s then, is that it?”
Mrs. Park shrugged, clearly bewildered by her daughter’s tantrum. “She gets plenty of exercise.”
For the first time since she could remember, she said that word without making it sound disdainful. That did it. Seeing red, Libby swept her arm wide and smacked into the box her mother held, knocking it to the floor.
“Libby! Why, I have no idea what’s gotten into you, but I’ve had it! Go into your room and don’t come back out here until you’ve come to your senses!”
She was only too glad to go, and felt nothing but mean satisfaction at the thought that her mother’s precious cookies might be smashed in their beautiful box.
* * *
Libby was still staring moodily up at the ceiling when her father quietly let himself in. She didn’t look at him, not even when she felt him sit on the bed.
“Your mother sent me to talk to you.”
Any other girl who’d acted as Libby had earlier might have been concerned, but in her house ‘talk’ meant nothing more than what it sounded like.
“She says you had some kind of fit earlier. Is anything the matter?”
She shut her eyes so she wouldn’t risk glimpsing his face as she answered. “Wesley didn’t come today.”
“Ah. I see. Is that why…?”
“I… I just don’t know where things stand between us, Pa. Every time I think I know how he feels… how I feel… but maybe this whole thing was just a mistake.” Tears burned behind her eyelids even as she said it. She didn’t want it to be true, but something deep down inside of her whispered that it just might be.
“Have you told him this?”
She gave a short bark of a laugh. “No, sir. I don’t think I could work up the courage.”
“Maybe I could have a talk with him. Suss out his intentions.”
Libby shook her head and rolled on her side. “No, thank you, Pa. I have to figure it out for myself.”
“Do that, then. And in the meantime, don’t go taking it out on any more of your mother’s things, you hear? Those cookies are mighty expensive.”
“Yes, sir.”
“You’ll have supper in your room tonight.”
“Yes, sir,” she answered again. She knew it was meant to be a punishment, but frankly, the news came as something of a relief.
Chapter Five
After a fitful night of sleeping, Libby had decided what she had to do. She had to continue with her plan. Once Maggie saw that Libby was a force to be reckoned with, she’d back down and let things lie. She loved Wesley and no one, not even his sister—perhaps especially not his sister—was going to come in the way of that.
She’d had a moment where she’d wondered if it might be better to just call a truce of sorts, if she should come clean to Wesley, just air the whole thing out. But in the end, her desire for revenge had won out. After all, Maggie had brought this whole affair on herself. She’d started it and it wasn’t Libby’s fault if she didn’t have the gumption to see it to the end. Coming to see her mother—of all the nerve! Yes, she deserved whatever she got.
Her mind made up, she went to see her pa the next morning at breakfast. She didn’t even care that her mother was sitting right there, in earshot.
“Can I get a ride over to the Swifts’ this morning, Pa?”
“You’ve decided to work things out?”
“Something like that, I suppose.”
“Alright then. I’ll be leaving here shortly. Best get dressed if you’re coming.”
She rushed back into her room, barely managing to close the door before she began unbuttoning her nightdress.
* * *
“Libby.”
She couldn’t help but note with deep satisfaction that Wesley looked surprised, but pleased to see her. “I thought I’d come on by. I hope that’s alright.”
“Of course it is. I’m glad you did. I’m awful sorry I didn’t make it yesterday. I hope Maggie passed on my apologies.”
Libby’s smile faltered for a moment, but she had it back in place quicker than you could say giddyup. “She did at that. I thought I could talk you into a stroll to make it up to me.”
“Now?”
“Now,” she confirmed.
Wesley looked off toward the fields, but then his gaze shifted back to her and he nodded. “I think that could be arranged.” He offered her his arm and she smiled, walking forward to take it. As soon as her hand was tucked into his, they were off.
“How’s your pa?”
“Oh, well enough. Things at the store are slowing down a bit, what with planting season nearly over.”
“They’ll pick right back up again at harvest time.”
Libby nodded. She knew this well, having spent all her life around the rotation of planting season, even if she’d never had a hand in it herself.
They exchanged the limited news of their families in the time they’d been apart, but Libby was distracted. She couldn’t stop thinking about what she was going to do. She was finally going to see her plan through, once and for all. And wouldn’t it be so satisfying when that smug do-gooder got what was coming to her? Yet, for some reason that she didn’t understand, something in her stomach felt like a lead balloon, weighing her down. She couldn’t
have named it if she tried, and as such, she did her best to put it out of her mind entirely.
“Oh, is that the creek?” she asked, nodding in the direction of the water.
“Sure is.”
“I remember seeing it once.”
“Really? Can’t say I recall you ever being out this way before.”
“Your sister had a birthday party one year,” Libby remembered. “She couldn’t have been older than eight. Anyway, I suppose your ma made her invite all the girls in town. My mother made me come.” She pulled a face as she recalled. “We swam in the creek.”
“Well, I’ll be. I remember that party, and I remember the swimming. I wish I could remember you there. You were adorable as a girl,” he said, pulling a lock of her hair playfully.
“I was a brat.”
Wesley chuckled at the observation.
“Wait just a minute, are you saying I’m not adorable now?”
“Are you saying that you’re not a brat now?” he rejoined, his smile wide and his eyes laughing at her.
“Well, I never! You apologize this instant, Wesley Swift, or I’m of half a mind to go home.”
“I’m sorry,” he said instantly. “Please, have mercy and forgive my bad manners, darlin’.”
“They’re the worst,” she agreed, but she too was smiling.
“We better head back. If you can sit for a spell, I’ll be finished shortly. I’m sure Mama would love a visit if you’ve the time.”
“I’ll always have time… for a visit with your mama, I mean.” She dimpled at him.
He scowled at her, mock-severe, and growled, “It seems someone isn’t being entirely ladylike in her thoughts.”
Libby merely blushed, because he certainly had her there.
“Someone has got to teach you a lesson, girl.”
“So I’ve been told.”
“I’d do it right here and now, but I do have work to get back to you, and I fear that would take all day.”
“I certainly wouldn’t want to keep you from your work.”
“Alright then, Miss Sass. Let’s get you back up to the house.”
As soon as she began to walk, he swatted her bottom, making her squeal. The playfulness between the pair of them had momentarily diverted her, but as soon as she laid eyes on the house, her smile vanished. She had things to tend to, and not even Wesley could make her forget. It was because of Wesley that she had to do it. She forced herself to smile at him and wave at him from the porch as he retreated to the fields. Then she set her shoulders back and marched into the house, her plan slowly taking shape.
“Howdy! Mrs. Swift? Are you in here?”
The woman came rushing out of the kitchen, wiping her hands on her apron and beaming a smile. “Why, Libby! Aren’t you a sight for sore eyes? Come in, dear. I’ve just put some cookies in the oven and have a pot of tea brewing. You’ll join me, won’t you?”
“I can’t say I’ve had a finer invitation in over a fortnight.”
Mrs. Swift smiled at her and promised to be right back. True to her word, she returned with two steaming cups and the assurance that cookies were soon to follow. Libby sipped her tea and answered questions about how she’d spent the previous day and giving tidbits of news she’d heard in town. Then she dropped her eyes and began to turn her cup in her hands, distracted.
“Are you alright, my dear? You seem to have something on your mind.”
“Oh, it’s nothing,” she rushed to assure her. “Or…” She dropped her eyes again. “Probably nothing.”
“What is?”
“Oh, I don’t want to go running my mouth and getting people in trouble… especially when I probably just…”
“What people, dear? Forgive me—I’m not trying to poke my nose in where it doesn’t belong, only you seem truly troubled. I want to help, if I can.”
Libby aimed a grateful smile at the older woman, and it was genuine. She truly believed that Wesley’s mother would want to help her, should she need it. Which was perhaps what made her feel a little uneasy about what was she was about to do. But reminding herself that it was well deserved, she plowed ahead.
“Actually, it concerns Maggie, so I suppose it is your affair.” Out of the corner of her eye, she saw the woman’s brow furrow.
“Maggie? However so?”
“Oh, I’m sure it’s nothing. I probably didn’t see it quite right.”
“Didn’t see what, Libby?” She was beginning to sound exasperated now.
“Ah, well, Wesley had to cancel our plans yesterday, so I had my pa drop me off and asked him to take a stroll with me.”
Mrs. Swift nodded.
“We happened by the creek and I saw… or, rather, I thought I saw… Maggie.”
“Doin’ what?”
“Ah… swimming.”
The woman looked positively mystified. “How strange. She’s supposed to be tending the vegetable garden. I’ll speak to her about it.” She reached over and patted Libby’s hand. “Don’t let it worry you any longer, Libby. You did the right thing by telling me.”
“Thank you, ma’am. Only…”
“Yes?”
“Well, it’s only that that’s not all of it.”
“How so?”
“Ah, well, you see, when I saw Maggie swimming it struck me that she was… she was…”
“Yes?”
“Her clothes were on the bank.” The words came out in a rush and then she clapped her hand to her mouth, as though she’d said too much.
“Her dress?”
“Ah, yes…”
“Is there more?”
“Well, it was her dress, and… well, to tell it true, Mrs. Swift, there wasn’t a lick of clothing on her!” Then she pulled her hand away, dropped it to her lap, and stared down at her dress. She couldn’t bear to look up. She was afraid one look at her face and she’d give herself away. She couldn’t seem to hide the little smile that curved on her lips. She didn’t like lying to the woman, especially after she’d been so kind to her, but she couldn’t stop smiling, either, because this time she knew she’d done it. Maggie would finally get the punishment that was coming to her and she’d realize this little war with Libby was over. There could be only one victor, and it surely wasn’t going to be—
“Maggie Elizabeth Swift!” the older woman shocked her by bellowing. “You’re sure, dear?” she asked. “Absolutely sure?”
“I… I don’t see how I could’ve been mistaken. But perhaps there’s some explanation…”
Mrs. Swift stood and marched to the back door, which she threw open. “Maggie! Maggie, get your tail in here, girl, and be quick about it!” When she returned to the table, her face was red, either with exertion from yelling, anger, or shame. Perhaps it was all three. “And Wesley… he didn’t happen to…”
“If he did, he didn’t mention it to me. I don’t think he’d want to shame his sister.”
Mrs. Swift gave a quick, humorless laugh. “Oh, dear, believe me, if he’d seen her you wouldn’t have had to tell me. He would have dragged her in here sopping wet and told me himself.”
The image came alive vividly in her head, but instead of seeing Maggie being drug in for a whipping from her mama, it was herself she imagined in Wesley’s grasp. She gave an involuntary shudder.
“Where is that girl?” she muttered, almost to herself. Then Mrs. Swift paced toward the door once more, but before she could reach it, it swung open and Maggie herself came walking in.
“Mama? Did you call me?”
“Why, yes, I most certainly did!”
Maggie’s eyes rounded in surprise at her mother’s tone. She glanced at Libby, who instead of smiling smugly, dropped her gaze and looked away. “Yes, ma’am?”
“I was just informed that you were down at the creek. Swimming. With not a stitch of clothing on!”
Through lowered lashes, Libby could see the girl shaking her head vehemently.
“No, ma’am. I would never.”
“Well, I’ve been to
ld that you did and I don’t see what reason I have not to trust the information.”
“But Mama…” Maggie trailed off, clearly at a loss for words.
“You’ve been actin’ mighty strange these last few weeks, and there’s only one cure I can think of.”
“But Mama, I would never do that. You have to believe me. I know you raised me better than that, I would never shame you in such a manner.”
Strangely, the pleading in Maggie’s voice made the weighted balloon in her tummy swell bigger. She began to scuff her foot across the floor. She should be looking Maggie right in the eye, gloating… so why wasn’t she?
“Fetch me my hairbrush, Maggie.”
The words she’d been waiting to hear for so long! Why did they not fill her with the rush of satisfaction that she’d expected?
“But Mama—”
“Don’t you make me tell you twice, girl!”
Just then, the front door opened and Wesley came stomping in. Perhaps feeling the mood of the room, or maybe noticing Maggie’s tearful expression in the face of his mother’s stern one, he asked, “What’s goin’ on in here?”
“Nothing I can’t handle, son. Why don’t you and Libby go for another stroll? This will only take a few minutes. Now, get going, Maggie.”
The other girl flounced off to fetch the hairbrush. Libby could feel Wesley’s eyes shift to her, but she couldn’t meet them. She couldn’t do anything but stare at the floor. She should be feeling triumphant right now, even if she wasn’t going to get to see the spanking. She should be elated, and yet, she felt… trapped. Trapped in a cage of her own making. Even though everything had gone exactly as she’d planned it, it felt nothing like she’d imagined.
“Libby? Is something wrong?”
She winced at the concern in his voice. She was far from deserving. “I…”
“Darlin’? Is there something you’d like to tell us?”
“I… I didn’t mean for this to happen.”
“Didn’t mean for what to happen?”
She could feel Maggie’s eyes on her too. When she glanced up, she saw a big wooden hairbrush clasped in the girl’s hands. “I… I’m so sorry.”
