The Left Behind Bride

by Mahrie G. Reid

  “Okay, Charlie, let’s see how your wound is.” She unwrapped his arm and examined it. “It looks good. The red line has drained down to your wrist and no pus has come back to the cut.” She got the basin, hot water, and salt. “Let’s soak it while we have our tea and then we’ll put on another poultice. I suspect by tomorrow, all you’ll need is a bandage.”

  She sent Charlie on his way and tidied the kitchen. I have the roast, the vegetables, and apples for a crumble. She checked the oatmeal bin and found it almost empty. I’ll get enough for one crumble crust at the general store and get more from the island store another day. She picked up her satchel and headed up the street.

  Once there, she checked the wool. She needed some for Garth’s socks. As she remembered, the skeins were eighteen cents each. For thirty-six cents she could make three pairs. She used the money Garth had prepaid her and bought two skeins of navy wool and one of the oatmeal.

  Back home, she prepped the vegetables, built the apple crumble and put the roast in the oven. With nothing more to do right then, she started a pair of socks. She timed her progress and decided she could make one sock a night. Maybe a bit more. Satisfied with her plan she continued knitting until time to put the vegetables on to cook.

  As good as his word, Ivan showed up mid-afternoon trailing Eugene after him. Maggie took one look at the both of them and knew one thing and suspected another. First of all, they hadn’t had much sleep. “Did you go to the island last night?” she asked. Ivan nodded.

  Secondly, they had apparently consumed alcohol. With prohibition in place, finding spirits might be harder but wasn’t impossible. And as bootleggers they had access.

  She cleared her throat and planted her hands on her hips. The boys shot glances at each other and kept their heads down. “Gentlemen, I’m sorry to see you’ve been partying. But I am happy to see you are suffering the after-effects. What shall I do with you?”

  “Anything,” Eugene said. “Just don’t tell my father. He’d kill me.”

  His mother ran the Temperance League and his father had never been known to take a drink. “That thought has crossed my mind as well. However, I’m not in a murderous mood. Go on with you. Get your no-good hides outside and chop wood. Supper will be in about two hours. Aunt Maude and the girls are coming. I’ll call you.” She made a shooing motion with her hand and they slunk away. Once they were out of hearing, she chuckled. They weren’t the first young men to imbibe and they wouldn’t be the last. Worry snuck in around her thoughts. As long as it doesn’t become a habit.

  * * *

  The supper turned out to be more relaxed than usual. She thought it might have to do with the absence of men. Ivan and Eugene had eaten quickly, excused themselves and left. Maude, thrilled to browse the magazine, sat on the settee with her tea. Lucy settled on the floor with the books Maggie had for her.

  “Can you make this suit?” Aunt Maude asked. “And the blouse.”

  “Certainly,” Maggie said. “Pick some fabric. If there’s nothing here you like, I’ll tell you how much you need and you can find something at Ritcey and Creasers.

  They sorted the details and Eloise read to Lucy. By the time they were finished, Lucy leaned against her sister yawning.

  “Time to go home,” Aunt Maude said. “Come on, Lucy.” She picked her up.

  “I’ll stay and help with the dishes,” Eloise said. “But I won’t be long.” She stood behind her mother and winked at Maggie.

  Aunt Maude left carrying Lucy, and Maggie and Eloise tackled the dishes.

  “Tell me,” Eloise said. “How are you doing? Are you ready give up and marry? I’m sure you and Garth could hit it off.”

  Maggie pulled her hand out of the soapy dishpan and flicked water at her cousin. “Actually, I’m feeling optimistic.” She told Eloise about the school cleaning job, the amount left to pay off, and her success with the sewing. “I can put all my money on the loan since I’ll have a job.”

  “And how is it having Mr. McInnis in the house?” Eloise asked, looking at her cousin from under lowered eyelids. “Is it like having Ivan here or Harris? Or is there more to it?”

  Maggie frowned and finished the dishes. “He’s often not here. And when he is here, he’s out most of the day and part of the night. He’s an easy tenant.” She poured more tea for them and led the way to the parlor. “And he cooks.”

  “Sounds perfect. So what’s the problem? You look troubled.”

  Should she tell Eloise? She sighed. She had to talk to someone. “You know what Boris, Eugene, and Ivan are doing? Right?”

  Eloise nodded.

  “I have reason to believe that JM is either a prohibition agent or connected to one.”

  Eloise coughed and spurted her tea. “Oh goodness me, why do you think that?”

  Maggie told her about the notebook sketches and what Charlie Roberts had said.

  “What are you going to do?” Eloise perched on the edge of her seat. “Do you think he’s following Ivan and Eugene? Will he have seen Boris? Does he know about Dad?”

  “So Uncle Henry is the supplier,” Maggie said. “I thought so.”

  “I think the first mate, Aubrey, handles it. But it does come in on the Lucky Lucy. I’ve listened when they didn't know I was there. The night before they come into port, Boris and Ivan bring the shipment off the Lucky Lucy and store it someplace.” She stood and paced. “Ivan and Eugene are the middlemen so to speak. They meet with men from Halifax and transfer the shipment to them. Those men deliver it along the shore and right up to the city.”

  Maggie leaned back and pressed the heels of both hands against her forehead. That isn’t just a bit here and there, that is major volume. If they get caught...“I thought they were just taxiing men to the speakeasies. Or delivering a bottle or two here and there to people on order.” No wonder Ivan has money to spare. “What do I do?” she asked, as much of herself as of Eloise.

  Eloise stopped in front of her. “I don’t know. You know how it is. No one talks about the business. Even kids, if they find a stash, just take it home and say nothing. They need an outsider, like Mr. McInnis, to track the trail. And we don’t want our brothers to be arrested.”

  “On the other hand,” Maggie said. “The prohibition officers are the law. Telling Ivan and Boris, or your father and Aubrey they are being watched means we are, what? That we are breaking the law?”

  “I know Dad thinks the prohibition here in the province is ridiculous. He said that only Nova Scotia and PEI still have it. The other provinces have given it up. Oh, they have some type of laws about shipping alcohol to places with prohibition, but no more local ones. He said it won’t be long before they lift it here in the province. It looks to me like everyone here doesn’t see bootlegging as serious or criminal.”

  Maggie mulled over Eloise’s words. We need the money from one more shipment. “I think I agree with that. But there is the law.”

  “Family versus the law.” Eloise sniffed, just like her mother. “Never thought I’d have to make that choice.”

  Maggie slammed her palms on her knees and stood. “Leave it to me. I’ll think of something.”

  Chapter Sixteen

  She followed where her feet did tread

  As if guided by her heart

  And wandered to the river’s edge

  To leave behind this world’s strife.

  The next morning Maggie still hadn’t thought of a solution to the situation with JM and Ivan. The fun she’d had with JM warred with her worry about Ivan and the resentment she felt about JM’s lies. It doesn’t help that when he comes close to me I want... Her mind balked. I want to go skinny-dipping. She slammed the frypan on the counter and washed the dishes.

  Now, what? Sewing? Laundry? What to do today? The thought of hauling out the washing tubs and heating water and hanging the garments all outside overwhelmed her. Not laundry. That left sewing or knitting. She opted for knitting and sat in her father’s chair. The stitches mounted up and a sock took shape. Her br
ain roved through thoughts of Ivan, worries about money and her growing feelings regarding JM. I’m bitterly disappointed he’s hoodwinked us.

  A knock on the front door interrupted her thoughts. Now, who? A new sewing client? She shoved the point of her knitting needles into the ball of yarn and went to the door.

  Her heart leaped when she opened it. “Mr. Zinck. How nice to see you.” She mentally crossed her fingers. I hope I got the job.

  Mr. Zinck removed his cap. “May I come in, Mrs. Benson?”

  She stood aside and ushered him into the sewing room. “Please sit down,” she said.

  He shook his head. “I’ll only be a few minutes. First, I’d like to thank you for applying for the cleaning job at the school.”

  Maggie’s breathing accelerated. This job could be the answer to my money issues.

  “We had two applicants. Yourself and another widowed lady. A young woman who lost her husband in the gales.” He paused and turned his cap between his hands.

  Her hope died. “I didn’t get the job, did I?” she asked.

  “That’s right, I’m sorry. We gave it to Mrs. Mosher. She has three children to support and no family in this area. It was a difficult decision, but we know you have your uncle and your brother to help you. And you have no young children.”

  “Yes, of course. I understand.” I’m disappointed though. I too have bills to pay. But the trustees wouldn’t know that. “Thank you for coming to tell me.”

  “I am sorry,” Mr. Zinck said. “As I said, it was a difficult choice.” He turned and left the house. Maggie closed the door behind him. No job. Now how do I pay that loan before the end of the month?

  She turned and slid down to sit on the floor wrapped in indecision and misery. Her arms around her knees, she rested her forehead and let the tears flow. Finally, exhausted by crying, empty to the core, she relocated to her bed and pulled the covers over her head. Not getting that job was the pebble that sank her boat. Failure washed over her. I’ve tried everything I can think of. And I failed. I’m going to have to crawl back to Uncle Henry.

  Drained of tears and hope, she hugged the pillow and fell into an uneasy slumber.

  * * *

  What’s banging? What? Where am I? She staggered out of bed, her heart pounding and her head aching. There was someone at the door.

  She jerked open the door and stared at Garth Hollinger through bleary eyes. His mother already picked up the sewing. Why is he here?

  He removed his cap. “Miss Maggie, it’s good to see you. Are you okay?”

  She pushed back her hair. “Just a headache. Almost gone.”

  “I’m sorry. Maybe it’s a bad time. It’s just that after two weeks on the boat, it’s great to stretch my legs. I thought maybe you’d go for a walk with me?”

  She glanced past him startled by the sunshine. A walk? Why not? Better than whinging in my bed. “Yes, I would. That will help my head. Just give me a minute.”

  She combed and refastened her hair and plucked her shawl off the rack by the door. He walked her across the street and set out down the path along the river and past the end of the bridge. Happy to have him choose the route, she followed. “How was the fishing?” she asked.

  “Good.” Garth, in front of her on the narrow path, spoke loud enough for her to hear. “And you? How have you been? Annie is delighted with her dresses, by the way.”

  “I’ve been okay. I have sewing customers.” And my life is falling apart. She viewed the river, the far bank with the stands of trees starting to turn colors. “I love this time of year.”

  Conversation stalled. The path widened and they walked side by side. Maggie shot a glance sideways at Garth. We’re together but there’s no connection. So different than with JM. She scooped up stones. “I bet I can skip a rock more times than you.” Anything to fill the silence.

  Garth got his own handful of rocks and juggled them in his large palm. “Ladies first.”

  Maggie drew back her arm, bent to get a good angle and let fly. The stone hit five skips before sinking. Her success and the slight breeze cleared her head-fog.

  “Well done.” Garth followed, throwing left-handed, and his stone also did five.

  Maggie drew in a breath of the fresh river air, sighted across the water and tried again. “Ha, six bounces.”

  Garth managed six taps as well. Two more tries and they matched each time. Laughing, they gave up the contest and sat on Maggie’s favorite boulder. She found the concentration on the game and the brief laughter had pulled her away from her despair.

  After a few minutes of silence, she asked, “How are your children? And your mother?”

  “Everyone is fine.” Not exactly helping the conversation along, is he?

  Garth leaned forward, his feet spread and his elbows on his knees. “Maggie,” he said. “I want to ask you something.”

  Maggie, busy watching the gulls dive for fish, replied. “Certainly.”

  He stared at the ground as he spoke. “Look, I’m a widower, you are a widow.”

  That pulled her attention away from the gulls and her gut lurched. Where had that obvious statement come from?

  He turned his head and looked at her. “I need a wife, my children need a mother.” A gull swooped overhead, screeching at its fellow flyers.

  She caught her breath and held it. Oh darn.

  “You, on the other hand, could use a husband and a family.” He can’t know about my problems, can he? She didn’t know what to say to him.

  Garth finished in a rush. “We could marry and give us both what we need.”

  What? He thinks I’d be amenable to a marriage of convenience? “Goodness, Garth. I’m not sure what to say.” At least what to say that won’t sound rude. No need to hurt his feelings. “Give me a few minutes.”

  He nodded and stood, kicking a rock to the water’s edge. “I’ll walk down a bit and come back for your answer.”

  That had to be the bluntest proposal ever. Actually, he hadn’t proposed, he had propositioned her. Like asking for a job. And what rights would go with her being his wife?

  It is better if it is your decision.

  You should respect each other.

  Security.

  He should make you laugh.

  He should work on land.

  The criteria suggested by the quilters and Alma Mae. A number of things had been listed. But not love. But she had seen love in her parents’ marriage and their shared interests and laughter. Other than having lost their spouses, other than life in Riverport and Aunt Maude’s scheming, what did she have in common with Garth? Asking Uncle Henry for help would be embarrassing but short lived. Marrying Garth, whatever their life was like, would last a lifetime.

  Footsteps crunched on rock and she looked to see Garth returning. She drew a breath, ready to answer his question.

  Garth sat beside her and linked his hands together. He didn’t ask for her decision. He waited.

  “Garth, I’m honored you think I’m worthy of being your wife and a mother to your children. I can see you put thought into this offer.” She put a hand on his forearm. “I respect and like you, however, the reasons you stated are not, in my mind, good reasons to get married.”

  Garth dropped his chin toward his chest. “So you are saying no?”

  “Can you look me in the eye and say that you love me?”

  “We like each other,” Garth said. “Love would grow.”

  “Maybe, maybe not.” Maggie patted the arm and withdrew her hand. “However, the answer is no, thank you. I’m happy to be your friend, but not your wife.”

  Garth heaved a sigh that came from the depths of Hell. “Fair enough. But I figured it was worth the asking.” He stood and held out a hand. “Come on, Miss Maggie, I’ll walk you home.”

  Halfway there, he started to laugh. “No disrespect, Maggie, but I think I’m a bit relieved. Your reasoning is sounder than mine. However, I think your aunt would be some disappointed if she knew about our conversation.”

/>   “Don’t worry, I won’t tell her,” Maggie said. “What she doesn’t know, won’t upset her.”

  * * *

  “Sunday dinner is on as usual,” Eloise said. She plunked down at Maggie’s kitchen table and watched Maggie kneading bread. “Dad came into port late yesterday and Mother started preparing the meal as soon as she heard the Lucky Lucy was at anchor.”

  “Her dinners aren’t that bad,” Maggie said and shot a sly grin at Eloise. “If you don’t mind being paraded in front of single men.”

  Eloise laughed. “By now, I think if any of the men she concentrated on was interested, they’d have spoken up.”

  Maggie looked down and attacked the bread. No one would ever know what had transpired between her and Garth. They’d both sworn to never say. And they’d both laughed at it after.

  “It’ll be different this time,” Eloise added. “Garth Hollinger declined his invitation leaving Mother a bit grumpy. Aubrey has watch duty on the Lucky Lucy and Dad refused to let him change it. If he even wanted to. But Mr. McInnis will be there. At least he’s fun, which is more than I can say for the other two. And Boris and Ivan are coming.”

  Maggie put all her frustration into kneading the bread. The idea of a rum runner, two bootleggers and a prohibition man all at the same table seemed ludicrous. Although no one talked about the rum running or bootlegging, people saw things, knew things. By now, if JM had brains, and he certainly did, he’d figured it out. Was he coming to dinner for more spying?

  “It’s become a regular event,” Maggie said. “I’d probably miss it if Aunt Maude didn’t put on dinner when Uncle Henry is home. What’s on the menu this time?”

  “Roast chicken with the works. Must say, Mom does do a good meal.” Eloise got up to leave. “I’ll see you tomorrow night.” With a flip of her hand, she went out through the summer kitchen and Maggie heard the door slam behind her.