The Left Behind Bride

by Mahrie G. Reid

  He held up a hand. “It’s fine. It’s in memory of your dad.”

  She looked at the package and the man who had given it to her. “Thank you, Mr. Zinck. I’ll enjoy the meat.” Maggie nodded and left the shop. She headed back toward town and her gran’s house. Will I get the job? Maybe. And maybe is better than flat out no.

  Her grandmother’s white clapboard house sat just past the bridge and well back from the road. A lane led to a barn behind it. Currently, it looked tired and the windows lacked the sparkle of clean glass. It looks as weary as I feel.

  She closed her eyes and her father’s voice rang in her head. Come on, Mags, Gran has the tea on. She chuckled. Hers had been mostly milk with enough tea to warm it. But drinking it out of one of Gran’s china teacups, she’d felt special. A real lady of only five years old. Being the oldest child had its advantages. She sighed and opened her eyes.

  She scanned the river and out the harbor. No sign of the Lucky Lucy so no Uncle Henry at home. She wavered. Would Aunt Maude know when he’d be back? Could she stand a dose of Maude’s caustic conversation? She turned and started up the hill. She didn’t have the luxury of waiting. She needed information in order to make plans.

  * * *

  “I don’t know,” Aunt Maude said. “I don’t know if your father owned part of that house. I don’t know if Henry plans to rent it or sell it. And I don’t know if he’d let you live in it for free.”

  That’s a lot of don’t knows. Maggie kept her under-whelmed feelings to herself. Aunt Maude always tended to the brusque and negative. No use in arguing. “When will Uncle Henry be back?”

  Aunt Maude frowned. “I never know when he’ll be back.” Her annoyance stuck out of every word. But whether at the question or the unknown arrival of her husband, Maggie couldn’t tell. “Sometimes it’s ten days, other times it’s almost a month.” Maude’s mouth puckered. “He’s been gone ten days already. I don’t know why he’s so long. The weather’s been good so it shouldn’t have slowed him.”

  No wonder Ivan had called her pickle-mouth more than once. Maggie ignored her sinking hopes. “Thank you, sorry to bother you.”

  “I never said you’re a bother.” Aunt Maude backtracked. She usually did.

  Lucy came racing in from the yard, hair ribbon trailing behind her and muddy handprints on her apron. Aunt Maude closed her eyes and hung her head for a long moment. “To the sink,” she said when she raised her head. The bleak look on her face startled Maggie. She’d never thought of Aunt Maude as finding things hard.

  “Hi, Maggie.” Lucy, the youngest of Maude’s children, ignored her mother and peered up at Maggie. “I have a dolly.” She pulled her hand from behind her back and displayed the doll. “But the ox didn’t like her. I showed him the dolly and he hopped on his feet.” She demonstrated, hopping backward. “He almost ran away and Grandpa Jenson told me to ‘git to the house.’” She giggled. “This is all I did.” She held the doll out at arm's length, wagging it back and forth with its braids flapping. No wonder the ox jumped.

  Maggie knelt beside the little girl. “Let me tie your hair ribbon, Lucy.” The girl turned and waited while Maggie did just that. “Now go get washed up like your mother said.”

  “Thanks.” Maude’s low voice differed from her usual shrill tones. “Some days she’s almost the death of me. I just don’t have the energy I had with the older ones.” She drew up her shoulders. “I’ll let you know when Henry gets home.” Her aunt hustled after Lucy.

  Maggie had forgotten Lucy’s change-of-life status. She’d arrived after Boris turned ten and Eloise eighteen. For the first time ever, a twinge of sympathy ran through Maggie for her aunt. Maybe her attitude stemmed from frustration and exhaustion. The sideboard clock showed one forty-five. Maggie needed to get back to the store. “Thanks,” she called out and left the house.

  Chapter Five

  In this great world of shadows,

  Bitter mingles with the sweet,

  And alike, our joys and sorrows

  Plunge us onward in life’s sweep.

  Maggie walked quick-time through the village to the Ritcey and Creaser General Store. Inside, she found the two proprietors seated in the office. Holding her breath, she made her way past the yard goods, the center display of watches and jewelry, and the scale by the sales counter. Clara raised a hand in greeting. Maggie hesitated in the office doorway.

  Robie Creaser looked up. “Come in, Maggie.” Russell Ritcey moved to close the door behind her. She appreciated the privacy.

  Mr. Creaser started. “We understand your predicament and we’d like to help.”

  She clenched her hands together in her lap.

  Mr. Ritcey continued. “But we have a lot of stock ourselves this time of year.”

  Her hopes lurched but didn’t abandon her. “I understand.”

  “We have an ample supply of the things on your inventory list,” Mr. Creaser added.

  She took the list he held out to her and swallowed against tears rising in her throat.

  Mr. Ritcey cleared his throat. “If we require items, we’ll come to you first before ordering. However, we could only pay you the wholesale purchase price.”

  Maggie blinked rapidly and raised her head. “I understand. Thank you.”

  She stood, surprised that her knees actually held. Her insides were shaking. “I appreciate your consideration.”

  “We are sorry, but with the economy the way it is.” Mr. Ritcey’s voice trailed off. He followed her to the office door and opened it. “Will you be staying on the island?”

  Maggie stepped out. “Some decisions are yet to be made,” she said, using her best passive sentence structure. Teaching had given her a few useful turns of phrase.

  She forced herself to walk steadily away and keep her head high and her posture straight. How will I get the money for the banker? Or to live? An orange-streaked sky loomed on the horizon. A storm coming in. A fitting backdrop for the storm in her life. Time to find Ivan and get back home. She managed to reach the corner of the building before the reality slid in on her. She stopped. I can’t do it.

  Almost stumbling, she ducked down the side alley. Her breathing stuttered. Ice formed in her midriff. She put an arm against the wall and leaned her forehead on it. I haven’t enough money. No job. They’ll take the store goods for auction, and we’ll have no food.

  A touch on her shoulder jolted her. She whirled. A stranger stood looking at her, his sea-green eyes leveled in a gaze on her face.

  “Are you okay, Miss? Can I help?” His voice, softer than the clipped tones of the South Shore, caught her attention.

  Not local.

  One fist pressed against her chest, she stared.

  “Miss?”

  Maggie blinked and shook her head. “Yes. No. I’m okay. Just had a shock. I’m fine. I’ll be fine. Just a little shock. No problem.” Good heavens, I’m blundering on. He’ll think I’m an idiot. Warmth on her shoulder reminded her he still had his hand there. Her head turned almost on its own and she stared at the back of a large hand, the hairs golden in the sunlight. It should be intrusive, but it’s not. It’s actually reassuring. She caught her breath and held it to stop more nonsense from slipping out.

  He followed her gaze. “Ah, yes.” He removed the hand and tucked his fingers into a front pocket.

  She missed the contact immediately and frowned. What? Why? She licked her lips. “Thank you for asking.”

  “My pleasure,” he said. “You’re sure you are okay?”

  She nodded frantically. Oh heavens. “Yes.” She looked out the alley to the road. “I am going to join my brother.”

  “That’s good.” He smiled and his face transformed from ordinary and freckled to much more.

  The much more made her heart somersault and heat flush her face. She managed a smile.

  He turned away but stopped at the edge of the building. Before walking out of sight, he turned, tugged on the brim of his Harry Hibbs cap. “Miss.”

  Magg
ie slumped back against the wall. Oh, my goodness. I haven't felt anything like that since, well, since James. Shocked at her thought, she straightened, flexed her shoulders twice and started walking. Smarten up, Maggie Conrad Benson. You have enough problems without reacting to strange men.

  * * *

  Two days later, she arrived at one more possible solution. Counting on getting permission to live in Gran’s house, she moved ahead with plans for their store and hired Alma Mae. “There isn’t much money in working the store,” she explained. “But there are goods you can use so perhaps we could barter for your wages?”

  Alma Mae thought. “That’s fine,” she agreed. “And it will keep me from being bored and getting under Jane’s feet.” The daughter-in-law she lived with nodded and laughed. One issue settled.

  Maggie returned to sorting and packing. If she didn’t get Gran’s house, she’d just have to find something else.

  Ivan burst into the kitchen. “Hey, Maggie, look who’s here.” Boris entered right behind him. “And you should see his new skiff and motor. He bought it with the money from his last trip.”

  Maggie greeted Boris pleasantly even though she silently berated his new purchases. She didn’t begrudge him. But now Ivan would be more insistent than ever about going to sea.

  He didn’t waste any time. “See, Maggie, if you let me go to sea, I’d make money that could help pay Dad’s loan.”

  She shot him a look. Boris would be sure to mention that tidbit to his father. And that she didn’t want. “We’ll find ways,” she said, “without you going to sea.”

  She turned to Boris. “Your father must be doing well,” she said. The older boy nodded.

  “How long are you in port?” she asked.

  “About a week, I think. Dad has some refitting to do before we set out again. And Mom said you should come over to dinner on Sunday.”

  “Actually, I’m going over today.” The sooner she talked to Uncle Henry the sooner she could look for a job, or if need be, a place to live. “I need to talk to your father.”

  “Great, I’ll run you over and bring you back. The sea is choppy today, and I want to see how well the boat handles it. But it might be a rough trip.”

  Maggie grabbed her coat and satchel and stuck a hat on her head. “I’ll live. Let’s go while the tide is still up.”

  They made their way to Riverport over the choppy sea. A steady breeze whipped the water into whitecaps and Maggie’s teeth were well rattled by the time they put into Riverport. But Boris’s boat handled the journey easily. She had to admit that the trip took much less time with an outboard motor than when Ivan rowed.

  She found Uncle Henry at his kitchen table, nursing a cup of tea and reading a Halifax paper. She looked over his shoulder and caught the headlines. “Customs Preventative Force Nabs Bootleggers.” The location in question was New Glasgow. The constant battle between the bootleggers and the Customs men raged across the province. And if they believed the news, the bootleggers were getting the worst of it.

  “The Preventative Force has been increasing its action,” she said, nodding at the newspaper.

  Uncle Henry folded the paper and set it aside. “True. It’s not just here on the South Shore that they’re cracking down. There’ve been quite a few arrests in Pictou County under Trenton’s Mayor Logan. They haven’t stopped it, but they have reduced the action for sure. It’s harder to bootleg now than it used to be. Now, what can I do for you today?”

  Maggie accepted the usual cup of tea and sat facing her uncle. “It’s about Gran’s house,” she said. “Since it’s sitting empty and I want to move into Riverport, I’d like to move into it.”

  Henry stroked his chin. “I do agree you’d be better off here than on the island. There’s not much left there.” He pushed his teacup away.

  Aunt Maude came through from the pantry. “I don’t see why she and Ivan can’t come here.”

  Oh good heavens. I can’t live in the same house with Aunt Maude. “Thank you, that’s generous,” she said. In a pig’s eye. “But wouldn’t that cramp things?”

  “I suppose. You’d go in with Eloise and Lucy. And Ivan and Boris could share a room.”

  Maggie smiled and caught Uncle Henry’s eye. “But if Ivan and I were in Gran’s house, we could make repairs and keep things shipshape. In the long run, it would improve the value.”

  Uncle Henry hesitated, frowning. “I did think about selling the house. Although if it were in better shape I could get a better price.”

  “But how long could she stay?” Aunt Maude asked. “You’d need her to move out if you sold it. That sounds like a problem.” She didn’t specify if it was Maggie’s problem or Henry’s.

  He’d been thinking of selling? Interesting. Had Uncle Henry been going to share the proceeds with her and Ivan? She wished she had more faith in her uncle, but recent events left her wary of men and their intentions. On the other hand, if he sold it and gave them half of the money, maybe she could pay off the bank.

  “To be truthful,” Uncle Henry said, “I did advertise it for sale or rent but no one responded.”

  That canceled that thought.

  “Dad owned the house with you, didn’t he?” she asked.

  Uncle Henry sat back. “Ah, I suppose so.” Had he really forgotten? It’s only been two years.

  “Dad’s will leaves all his worldly goods to Ivan,” she said and produced the will. Thank goodness Dad studied law and made the will. “You’d have to talk to Ivan before selling.” She paused and caught his eye square on. “Or, as I’ve discovered,” she crossed her fingers under the table, “with me until he comes of age.”

  “Well, that’s silly,” Aunt Maude said.

  Both Henry and Maggie ignored her.

  Uncle Henry stuck his tongue between his teeth and sucked air. “Is that so?”

  She nodded, hoping he’d accept her information without question. She thought she was right, but positive, not really. But it was ethical that she and Ivan have a share of the family property.

  “There would be some conditions,” Henry said and drummed his fingers on the table before reaching for his pipe.

  “Of course,” she replied.

  He packed in tobacco and put the stem to his mouth. The match flared, and he held the flame to the bowl. Puff, puff, puff. He shook the match to extinguish the flame. He did it exactly like her father had and a shaft of sorrow stabbed her. Damn you, Dad. Why’d you go and die?

  “We’ve never properly cleaned out the house since Mother died,” Uncle Henry said. “You’d be responsible for that in addition to the repairs you mentioned. The bonus is, there is some furniture so you don’t have to haul everything from the island. And,” he raised a finger, “if you find any documents that should be considered jointly, you’d let me know.”

  Maggie held her excitement in check. Too much joy on her part might make him change his mind. She frowned. “Very well, I can accept those terms.”

  “And I’ve some private things stored in the house. I’ll have Ivan and Boris move them to the garage. You don’t have a car, so you won’t need it.”

  “Certainly,” Maggie said. “That’s not a problem.” At least not for now.

  “Now, to the other matter,” he said and set the pipe in the ashtray. “I feel duty bound to discuss the situation your father left for you.”

  Maggie’s attention jerked, and she looked at him sideways. “Pardon?”

  “It’s about that loan your father took out.”

  “Bank loans are so foolish,” Maude muttered. “He could have come to us.”

  Oh yes, and have you lord it over him forever after. Maggie focused on Uncle Henry. He’d only been in port twelve hours. “How do you know about that?”

  “I went into the bank for the payroll money, and Mr. Macfee called me into his office. He’s worried about you and Ivan.”

  “I doubt that,” she said. “He’s worried about the bank’s money.”

  “You don’t understand finance,”
Uncle Henry declared. “There are ramifications because you are unable to take over the loan.”

  Maggie snorted. “You mean the law won’t let me. I am able.”

  “Now, Maggie. Don’t get distraught.”

  She planted both palms on the table and sat tall in the chair. “I’m not distraught. I’m angry.”

  Uncle Henry looked surprised. “Angry, why?”

  Maggie considered the ceiling and counted to ten. “Uncle Henry, if the banker came to me and told me your financial status, how would you feel?”

  Henry laughed. “What. He’d never do that.”

  “And why wouldn’t he?”

  “Well, for one thing, I’d never borrow money.”

  “Not even if you wanted to invest in your own ship?”

  “That’s different.”

  “Really. Face it, Uncle Henry, the only reason he spoke to you is that I am a woman.”

  “That’s not his fault. Loans and banking are male issues. You shouldn’t have to worry your pretty head about them. Especially without a man to advise you.” He patted her hand.

  She pulled her hand back and formed a fist. I want to punch his nose.

  “See, I told you.” Aunt Maude butted in. “She’s got all these fancy new ideas like those old maids trying to get the right to serve in government.” She tsked. “That’s one reason she should come and live with us. She’d see what a woman’s life should be.”

  Uncle Henry turned and narrowed his eyes. “Maude, stay out of this.”

  Maude executed her pickle mouth and shoved away from the table. Turning her back on her husband, she busied herself at the sink.

  Maggie drained her tea and smacked the mug on the table. “Uncle Henry, women have brains that work. Times are changing. We are quite capable of handling our own money, of making money and surviving without some man to look after us.”

  “Now you're just being silly,” Henry said, supporting his wife’s point of view even if he didn’t want her expressing it. “You know that’s not how things work. Women make great housekeepers and they can handle the household money well enough. But earn their own? Make enough to live alone? Without widows’ pensions and the help of their grown children, women wouldn’t manage. Some women work but it is to help their families when the fishing is slow.”