Her kitchen—actually quite spacious—felt strangely like an overheated jail cell because of Ian Lane’s pacing between the sink and the table.
“Please, Ian,” Maggie said, “sit down. You’re driving me up a wall. I mean it. Danny knows what he’s doing. If he says today’s the day, then it is.”
“Yeah,” Tessa added.
“I’m sorry. I’m a bit nervous is all. I don’t do terribly well with medical stuff.”
“He’s afraid of Danny’s saw,” Tessa said to Maggie, grinning. “He’s afraid the blade will cut into Dancer’s leg.” She pretended to think for a moment. “’Course, it probably will. But still...”
“Tessa,” Maggie sighed, “stop your teasing. You’re just going to make him worse.”
“I’m not afraid of Danny’s saw!” Ian said, quite a bit louder than necessary. “I just get a little queasy thinking about the whole thing.” After a moment, he added, “I broke my own leg when I was a kid, and I still have nightmares about the surgery and the cast.”
“It’s not surgery, Ian—it’s nowhere near surgery. The blade of the saw doesn’t even have regular teeth. It’s a kind of vibrating, spinning thingie that sort of chips away at the fiberglass. It’s not like a saw for wood.”
Tessa’s eyes lit up gleefully. “Of course, there’s always the danger of—”
“Cut it out!” Maggie demanded.
Ian stopped at the window facing the barn. “There’s Danny,” he said.
Maggie joined Ian at the window and saw Danny taking a briefcase-sized aluminum case from the back of his SUV. She and Ian and Tessa rushed out to him.
“Big day.” Danny smiled and hefted his case. “Let’s get to it.”
Dancer stood in his stall, his eyelids drooping from the effects of the injection Danny had given him a few minutes ago. “The sound of the saw is awful,” Danny said. “That’s the only reason I gave him the shot. Right now, Dancer doesn’t much care what I do to him.”
Maggie led the colt out of his stall and into the aisle, where she cross-tied his head and stood at his shoulder, stroking his neck. Ian watched from a couple of feet behind Danny, swallowing hard every few moments. Tessa crouched next to the vet. Danny switched on what looked like a carpenter’s circular saw with a flat-surfaced, toothless blade. The tool hummed quietly until Danny applied the blade to the cast. The screech of the separating fiberglass and the high-pitched whine of the saw combined to form the frightening shriek of a dentist’s drill hard at work.
The dry, acrid smell of burning plastic almost instantaneously permeated the air around the horse and the humans. Motes of fiberglass floated upward from where Danny worked, like strands of spiderwebs caught in rays of sunshine. Danny cut downward first, easing the tool in a straight line to the midpoint of the cast. The last part of the procedure took only moments. Danny cut up from the bottom, meeting his first cut. He pried the cast apart and slipped it off. He handed it to Tessa without looking away from Dancer. The colt put weight on his leg immediately.
“Got any coffee, Maggie?” Danny asked.
Ian, white faced with a line of sweat over his upper lip, applauded the veterinarian’s work.
The annual Spring Festival in Coldwater was, in Maggie’s mind, the official end-of-another-winter celebration. Various organizations spent the month or so preceding the event decorating the Coldwater Grange Hall, a large, drafty, clumsy-looking building that dated back to a decade after the end of the Civil War. The structure itself, a grim, two-story brick edifice with all the architectural imagination and grandeur of a shoe box, hulked gracelessly in the middle of a rutted, potholed parking lot. Even the colored streamers and the huge “Spring Festival” banner on the front of Grange Hall couldn’t quite eliminate its stodgy image.
Maggie parked and stepped out into the decidedly spring-like air. It was a cool night, but the sky was clear and the moon was a shade away from full, and she was sure that if she had a stepladder, she could reach up and touch the stars that hovered above.
She breathed deeply. The very air promised growth and fertility and early hay and fine, fat cattle and sleek, healthy horses. The ground under Maggie’s boots yielded slightly to her weight rather than crunching or snapping as it had for so many winter months, and the sensation was a pleasant one. She avoided the scattered puddles in the parking lot, saving the shine she’d spent an hour polishing into her boots. Further, the hem of her dress hung well below her knees, and splashes of mud would look terrible on the lace. Dress was Western for the Spring Festival, and Maggie, whose usual outfit was jeans and a shirt, felt like a fairy tale princess in her taffeta square-dancing dress with its several petticoats and lace trim.
Maggie noticed Ian’s car in the line ahead of her, and as she got closer to it, she stopped and smiled. On the left rear window was a dinner plate–sized decal showing the head of a horse with the legend “The American Quarter Horse: Speed, Style, Heart.”
Two figures leaned on the hood of the little car, apparently in deep conversation. Maggie took another stop and saw through the darkness that the two were Ian and Tessa. Maggie raised her hand and began to speak, but Tessa’s giggle stopped her.
“This is soooo exciting,” the girl said. “But are you sure, Ian? Absolutely, positively sure?”
“Yeah. No doubts at all. If she says yes, I’ll be the happiest man in the world. I’ve thought it all over carefully and prayed about it, and it all feels right.” Ian stepped away from his car. “C’mon, Tessa. Let’s get back inside. Maggie’ll be here soon.”
Maggie crouched a bit behind the cab of a pickup, feeling like a sleazy spy for listening in on the conversation. But there was a far stronger and more frightening sensation that made her body tremble.
Ian’s going to ask me to marry him. She turned and stumbled back to her truck, this time paying no attention to mud or puddles. Once in the vehicle, her hand, although trembling almost spastically, fit the key into the ignition. She stepped on the clutch—and then released it.
What good will running away do? I need to face this. I need to make a decision, and scurrying away like a schoolgirl won’t accomplish a thing. A sob wrenched deep in her throat. But how can I decide? And what about Danny? If I’d overheard Danny saying the same words, what would my reaction have been?
Maggie swallowed hard. The simple fact is that I don’t know—I don’t know if I want Ian or if I want Danny—or even if I genuinely want either of them in my life full-time right now. If only there were someone to help me with this, someone who could put things in perspective, guide me in making a decision. If only Ellie were still...
Maggie’s hand hadn’t stopped trembling, but this time she didn’t hesitate to turn the key. The engine came to life, and she jammed the floor-mounted shift lever into reverse and tossed pebbles and mud as she wheeled out of the parking space and shot out onto Main Street. The closest telephone was at Hildebrand’s Mobile Station only a few blocks away. Her tires chirped as she floored the gas pedal.
The enclosed booth stood under an arc light fifty feet from the series of pumps. The station was dark inside, and the bay doors were snugged down and locked for the night. Maggie pulled next to the booth and took a handful of change from the glove box. As she did so, a sudden memory flitted into her mind. The day she and Rich had picked up the truck, Rich had put five dollars worth of quarters into the glove box. “For a telephone call or a sandwich or whatever,” he’d said. “Who knows what can go wrong—even with a brand-new truck.”
Maggie held several of the quarters for a long moment. She took in a deep breath, got out of the truck, and entered the booth, pulling the accordion door closed.
“... and then they went into the festival, and I went back to my truck and came and called you. Ellie, I don’t know what to do.”
“Whew. That’s a bit of a tough one, honey.” She hesitated for a moment. “I... well, I need to tell you this. My meds are working fine. Some days I’m a little fuzzy, but most of the time I’m rational a
nd lucid—and that’s how I am today.”
“I didn’t think...” Maggie sputtered.
“You called for advice, or at least to talk about a problem, Maggie. You need to know that I’m all here to discuss it with you—because I am.”
“Thanks, Ellie,” Maggie said quietly.
“Sure, honey. Now, remember the old adage ‘Marry in haste and repent in leisure’? I think it’s possible to apply that here, isn’t it?”
“I... I don’t know. I guess so, but they’re both such great guys, and I...”
“It’s not both of them whom you think is going to ask you to marry him, Maggie. It’s Ian.”
“I know.”
“You sound like you’re a mess, with all your snuffling and gasping. You shouldn’t be. You should be proud and happy that such a fine man wants you as his wife.”
“But, Ellie—”
“Hush for a moment and hear me out, honey. As I said, you should be pleased and proud. But there’s no way in the world you can give Ian or Danny or anybody else on God’s green earth an answer tonight—and you’re under absolutely no obligation to do so. You need to go to the Lord with this, and however long it takes for you to decide, well, that’s how long it takes.”
An eighteen-wheeler rumbled by outside the telephone booth, and Maggie didn’t answer her friend until the racket of the engine and the shifting of gears had passed.
“Where are you?” Ellie asked. “Sounds like you’re on a racetrack or something.”
“I’m at the Mobil station on Main Street. Ellie, I get what you’re saying. But the truth of it is, I’m not completely sure how I feel about Ian or Danny. I mean... I guess I love them each... both... whatever. But to tell either of them...”
“Let’s slow down here, honey,” Ellie said. “You’re going way too fast, and you’re making a big assumption that there’s no reason for you to make.”
“I don’t understand. What assumption?”
“You don’t owe Ian an answer tonight, or at any time until you’re totally confident in saying yes or no. It’s a woman’s prerogative. You’ve got to get that through your head.”
“But suppose I tell Ian it’s too soon, but Danny hears that he asked me. Danny’s such a white knight he’s liable to think I’m betrothed just because Ian asked, and I’ll lose Danny. See what I mean?”
Ellie’s chuckle was rich and warm and comforting. “Of course I do. As I’ve been trying to tell you, you need some thinking time—whether that time is a day or a month or a year. That’s all there is to it.”
Maggie sighed. “All there is to it. I wish it was that easy.”
“It is, honey,” Ellie said. “The Lord has lots of time for you. Go to him. OK?”
“I’ll try,” Maggie said quietly.
“Good. What are you going to do right now?”
Again, Maggie sighed. “Go home, I guess. I’ve got—”
“No!” Ellie said. “You’re not going home to pine and sigh and carry on like some soap opera star, Maggie Locke! You go back to that festival and you dance and laugh and play those silly games they always have and you let whatever’s going to happen with Ian and Danny happen. You hear me, child?”
“I... yeah. OK. And Ellie?”
“Hmm?”
“I love you. Thanks. You’re great.”
Maggie drove back to Grange Hall more calmly—and much more slowly—than she had left it when she’d been seeking the nearest telephone.
Ellie’s phrase “a woman’s prerogative” floated in her mind.
Of course it’s up to me. But I have no obligation to make a decision until I’m completely ready, and that realization makes me feel good—stronger, somehow. Not many of us were made to be alone, and marriage is a fine and godly state of life. I know how very good a true partnership can be. I’ve already been there with Richie.
She flicked on her turn signal, pulled into the Grange lot, and parked in one of the few remaining spots. Music and laughter from inside the building reached her as soon as she opened the door of her truck. She listened for a moment and then smiled as words of a line carried to her: “Darlin’, it’s been a cold and lonely winter...” Maggie nodded in agreement with the lyrics and started toward the Spring Festival.
The colors and the sounds and scents inside the warehouselike building were almost overpowering. Long, graceful streamers hung from the high roof beams, shifting and twisting above the crowd, their vivid hues a benign cloudburst of color.
Dress was predominantly—in fact, almost exclusively—Western. Creased, new-looking jeans, polished boots, and pearl buttons and snaps were everywhere, as were petticoated square-dance dresses in bright, homey colors. On a small elevated platform toward the rear, a rock group—the Average Garage Band—was finishing the song. Along one side of the room was a series of long tables, each covered with dishes, casseroles, plates, bowls, and trays of food. One table—the one with the youngsters clustered around it—offered cookies, cake, doughnuts, several kinds of pies, tarts, bear claws, and other pastries. Fruit punch, soft drinks, and canned soda covered one table, barely leaving room for the commercial coffee urn.
“Maggie!” Tessa rushed up and embraced her friend. This night, the girl’s eyes seemed even more full of happiness than was usual for her. “You’re so late—where have you been? Isn’t the band great? They’re playing lots of real old stuff, the Beatles and the Rolling Stones and Richie Havens.”
Danny wove his way through the crowd and smiled at Maggie. “About time you showed up,” he said.
“Tessa’s filling me in on what ancient music the band’s been playing, reminding me how old and decrepit I am.”
“I have not! It’s just that I’ve spent half a day with kids in the Saddle Club from school, and I’m sick of boy-band music.”
“Not me. I can’t get enough of that stuff,” Ian said from behind Maggie. He stepped around to her front and smiled. “Good to see you, Maggie.” He nodded to Danny and extended his right hand. “Mrs. Nowack tells me you saved her Missy’s life again, Dan.”
Danny laughed, taking the minister’s hand. “I’ve never seen a dog that eats more junk than Missy does. The last time it was a roadkill squirrel. This time it was three athletic socks.”
Tessa tugged at Maggie’s arm. “C’mon, let’s play some of the games. Ian? Danny? C’mon!”
“Good idea, Tess,” Ian said. “And in the spirit of the Spring Festival, I’ll win a teddy bear for both Tessa and Maggie,” he added solemnly.
“One teddy bear for both of us—or do we each get one?” Tessa asked.
“Waitaminnit here, Ian,” Danny said. “That sounds like a challenge to me. I’m the one who’ll win teddy bears for these fine ladies. Choose your game.”
“Hoops,” Ian said with a grin.
Sarah, almost breathless, joined them as they made their way to the “Two-in-a-Row-Wins-a-Bear!” setup.
“A patient turned sour—sorry I’m late. Have I missed anything?” she asked.
Tessa hugged her mom and began to answer, but Ian spoke first.
“Danny has been foolish enough to challenge me in a game, Sarah. I’m about to win bears for Maggie and Tessa—and one for you too.”
“All talk and no action,” Danny said.
“Well, let’s get to it, then,” Sarah said. “I can’t stand the tension a minute longer.”
The netless hoop was set at about nine feet on a metal pole anchored by sacks of sand. The foul line was ten feet from the pole. A mound of teddy bears rested on a card table to the side. The ball was a thick, ungainly rubber bladder about half filled with water. Ian stood at the foul line, the ball shifting like a living thing in his hands.
“I suspect that this isn’t a standard basketball,” he announced.
Maggie watched Ian’s first attempt wobble through the air. It sagged and twisted like a ruptured tire and missed both the basket and the pole by a yard.
He lost his wife—and I’m sure that he had with her what I
had with Richie. But he went on with life, was open to it, and didn’t allow his faith to be shaken. He’s a strong man underneath his jokes and his teasing—a man who would cherish a wife, treasure her, share everything with her...
Danny stepped up to the foul line. Julie Downs, vice president of the Coldwater chapter of the National Barrel Racing Association and a reporter for the local newspaper, carried the ball to him. She was running the booth and obviously enjoying herself. Julie was very pretty—blond and blue-eyed and as lithe as a Kentucky yearling, with a sense of humor and a positive approach that made her one of the most popular club members.
Julie has her eye on Danny. Then she wondered why the idea irritated her. Jealousy? No. But still...
Maggie watched as Julie leaned to Danny and whispered something in his ear. When she handed the bladder to him she took a moment to adjust his hands on it and then stepped back.
Maggie’s eyes caught Sarah’s for a speck of time—just enough for a message to be passed between them. Sarah picked up on it too. Julie Downs is more interested in Danny than she is in her booth.
Danny’s first toss was, if anything, clumsier and less accurate than Ian’s.
He’s blushing because he blew that throw so badly. It’s really important to him to win a scruffy little teddy bear for me. And that time when he held me and we kissed and I felt so safe, so protected from everything...
Twenty minutes and twelve dollars and fifty cents later, Tessa had wandered off to join a bunch of friends who were throwing darts at balloons to win a gigantic stuffed Garfield, and Maggie and Sarah were discussing the weather.
Ian stepped to the line and held the ball, a significant part of it hanging on either side of his hands, not unlike a clutched water balloon. He turned his back on Julie and the goal and stared at Sarah and Maggie until they stopped talking.
“Ladies,” he said solemnly, “I’m out of quarters.” He sighed dramatically before going on. “Dr. Pulver has beaten me not with his basketball skills but with his bank account!”
Changes of Heart Page 17
