Saturday Mornings (The Mississippi McGills)

by Peggy Webb

  Margaret Leigh squelched the quick surge of compassion. Old habits would die hard, but she was going to do her best to give them a quick and merciful death.

  “Yes, it's me. But you needn't bother coming out. I won't be here long enough for a mother-daughter chat.”

  “Please.” Bertha pulled at her frazzled gray hair. “Come inside and talk to me. Let me explain.”

  “You already have. You slept with another woman's husband, and when you found yourself in the unfortunate situation of being pregnant, you did the noble thing and gave me away.”

  “It wasn't like that. We loved each other. I love you.” Bertha came out of her room and clutched at Margaret Leigh's sleeve. “You have to understand... I had no other choice.”

  “Leave us both some dignity. Please.”

  She plucked the hand off her arm and continued up the stairs.

  “Where are you going?”

  “To pack a bag.”

  “You're going to Chicago? To stay with Tess?”

  “No. I'm going to stay with the first man who will have me.”

  Bertha clutched her heart and grew faint. But a sudden burst of maternal love gave her courage. She forgot about her own health and started up the stairs after her daughter. At this moment, nothing was more important to her than Margaret Leigh.

  She braced herself in the doorway and stood watching her daughter cram clothes into her suitcase. She wasn't even bothering to fold them. That wasn't like Margaret Leigh. She'd always been so neat.

  Bertha drew a big breath arid starting talking, very fast.

  “I didn't think I could get pregnant. I was old, already in menopause. But it happened anyhow.”

  She paused for breath, then hurried on.

  “In the sixties there was a stigma against women who got pregnant and didn't have husbands. Abortion was not a choice for me, and there were no homes for unwed mothers, not in Tupelo anyhow. An unmarried woman pregnant in the sixties was an outcast. The stigma was even worse for the child. They were called names.”

  “I know the name. Bastard.”

  “Margaret knew she couldn't have other children. The doctor had said it would kill her. I couldn't go to... your father, so I went to her. She and Graham were living in South Carolina at the time. They wanted you. Cousin Joseph did the legal work.”

  Glenny's daddy. It fit, Margaret Leigh thought. That's why Glenny knew the family secret

  “We all agreed it would be best if you never knew.”

  “Best for whom? For you? For”—she couldn't bring herself to say Mother and Daddy—”Margaret and Graham Jones?”

  She snapped her suitcase shut.

  “I'm leaving. Don't bother waiting up for me.”

  “Where will you stay?” Bertha stepped aside as Margaret Leigh brushed past her. “Where did you stay last night? What did you do last night?”

  Icy silence and a retreating back were her only answers.

  “Be careful,” she called after her daughter. The front door slammed behind Margaret Leigh. “Oh, honey, do be careful. Such bad things can happen to nice girls.”

  Bertha sank onto the floor and buried her face in her hands.

  o0o

  Andrew McGill hounded Margaret Leigh's steps. He followed her to Finney's Sandwich shop and sat across the aisle while she ate.

  The red truck followed her up and down the streets as she wandered aimlessly, not knowing what to do, not even caring what she did. Once or twice she tried to lose him, but her heart wasn't in it. What did she care if he wasted his gas and his evening watch dogging her?

  On impulse she drove to the theater and went inside. The movie was already in progress, but she didn't care about that either. The theater was dark, the movie was bad, and most of the seats were empty.

  Andrew sat two rows behind her. She didn't even have to turn her head to see him; she could feel his eyes boring into her back.

  She thought she heard him crunching popcorn. He was trying to build his energy, no doubt, for the formidable task ahead.

  And she was darned sure going to make his task formidable. Not that she cared one way or the other what Andrew McGill thought. She didn't care what anybody thought. She wanted two things: revenge and lust.

  She glanced down at her watch. It was nine o'clock. Just about time, she guessed, for a place like the Pirates' Den to be gearing up for the evening crowd.

  She left her seat and quickly made her way out of the darkened theater.

  o0o

  Andrew sat on a bar stool and watched Margaret Leigh dance. She'd picked Hooter. Somehow he'd known she would. He nursed his root beer and brooded.

  He'd never been anybody's guardian angel except Jo Beth's, and that didn't count. He'd been too young then to know much about guilt.

  Hooter slid his hand down the length of Margaret Leigh's back, and Andrew squeezed the handle of his mug. Guilt filled him. He was the one who had introduced her to the likes of Hooter Johnson. If something happened to her, he was as guilty as sin.

  They danced out of his sight, and he stood up to see if he could spot them. From a distance it looked as if Hooter was trying to get his hand underneath Margaret Leigh's shirt. Andrew had to stop himself from crossing the room and punching him in the face.

  He'd always been a peace-loving man. What possessed him to be thinking of using his fists? He sat back on his bar stool and tried to enjoy his root beer. But he kept thinking of Hooter's hands on Margaret Leigh.

  He slammed his mug down on the bar and began to make his way across the crowded room. Progress was slow. The Pirates' Den was unusually crowded for a Tuesday night.

  By the time he got on the dance floor, he'd had to stop and apologize four times for stepping on feet. He searched the crowd. Margaret Leigh was tall, and Hooter was about the size of a hundred-year-old oak tree. They shouldn't be that hard to spot.

  “Hey, Andrew. Lost your girl?”

  James Johnson and his dance partner, a woman with bleached hair and a permanent pucker, stopped beside him.

  “I'm looking for Hooter and the woman he's with... tall, dark hair, fair skin, lips that—”

  “Hey. That's the woman you were with Saturday night.”

  “Yes. Have you seen her?”

  “She and Hooter skipped out the back door about five minutes ago.”

  Andrew strode back though the crowd. This time, they parted for him. If he could have seen the look on his face, he'd have known why. He looked as if the hounds of hell were on his trail.

  When he got to his truck, he wasted no time wondering what to do. He knew where Hooter lived—in a cabin ten miles from his own. He also knew Hooter's habits. He always took his women to his lair.

  Andrew spun out of the parking lot, his tires kicking up gravel.

  He was deep in the woods of Boguefala Bottom when his truck died. Andrew made a quick examination of the carcass and decided there would be no quick fix. Fortunately, he was on the perimeter of his own land.

  The saints were smiling on him this evening.

  o0o

  Margaret Leigh was having second thoughts.

  “I've got cold beer in the fridge and plenty of whiskey. What's your pleasure, doll?”

  Hooter was leering at her. She pulled her coat around her shoulders and wished she was at her house on Allen Street. She even wished she had accepted Andrew's offer. She wished she was anywhere at all except this dirty one-room cabin in the woods.

  “What's the matter? Cat got your tongue?”

  Hooter left the refrigerator door open and came around to the kitchen table where she sat, huddled into her coat, miserable and not knowing what to do. He put his hand on her hair.

  She kept herself from flinching. Then she squared her shoulders and lifted her chin. She had set out to drown her troubles with a man, and now she had one, such as he was.

  She was going to be a new woman, even if it killed her. She smiled up at him.

  “It was nice of you to offer me a place to stay for t
he night.”

  “You've been nice to me; I'll be nice to you.” Hooter took her hands and lifted her out of the chair. “That's the way it works, baby.”

  He dragged her next to his huge bulk and bent over her. She could smell his breath, a mixture of beer and cigars and stale garlic. When his mouth covered hers, she thought she would suffocate. The taste of garlic almost overwhelmed her.

  Kissing Hooter was like cuddling up to a pizza with everything on it. She stifled a nervous giggle.

  Hooter lifted his head. “Come on, baby, Loosen up.”

  “I... think I'll have that drink, after all.”

  “Sure thing, doll. What’ll it be?”

  “Anything. Surprise me.”

  She stood gripping the back of her chair while he went to the refrigerator. Hooter hummed, and the ice tinkled against the glasses.

  Then there was a thundering noise at the front door, a battering that practically shook the cabin.

  “Hooter. Open up.”

  It was Andrew. Margaret Leigh sank into her chair, her legs suddenly weak.

  Hooter set the glasses on the counter and went to the front door.

  “You picked a hell of a time to come calling, boy.”

  “I didn't have time to send an engraved announcement.” Andrew strode into the room, bringing the fresh night air with him. “I came to get my girl.”

  “Your girl?” Hooter scratched his head. “You've staked a claim on this filly?”

  “I have.” Andrew took Margaret Leigh's arms and lifted her from the chair. Then he pulled her into the protective lee of his shoulder. “Let's go home, Margaret Leigh.”

  Margaret Leigh was torn between wanting to shoot him on the spot and wanting to hug him. She did neither. She took the easy way out.

  Tomorrow she'd start all over with somebody more refined than Hooter, but right now she'd play along with Andrew. Tipping her head back, she batted her eyelashes at him.

  “I'm ready whenever you are, darling.”

  “Now wait a minute.” Hooter leaned against the counter and scratched his armpit. “Let me get this straight. She's your girl, but you left her lying around loose, and so she came home with me, bringing her suitcase, I might add. Have I got that right, so far?”

  Margaret Leigh freed herself of Andrew's arms and walked over to pat Hooter's face, playing the game to the hilt. She'd seen Tess do it a million times.

  “We had one of those silly little lover's quarrels.” She pinched his cheek for good measure. “I was mad at him, so I flirted with you.”

  “Baby, what you did was more than flirt. You teased.”

  “And you were so sweet to invite me over for a drink.”

  Andrew took a firm grip on Margaret Leigh's arm.

  “She couldn't have been in better hands, Hooter. Thanks for taking good care of her.” He extended a friendly hand to Hooter, and thank goodness, the confused man took it. “We’ll pick up her car in the morning.”

  “Shoot. Me and James'll bring it by after a while. That's the least I can do for trying to steal your girl.”

  “I’ll take my own car,” Margaret Leigh said.

  “And deprive me of your company for one single moment?” Andrew tightened his hold. “We have lots of making up to do, darling.”

  She gave him a look meant to kill, and he laughed. She thought of kicking his shins, but she didn't dare go that far. There was always the scary possibility that Hooter might decide to rescue her.

  As Andrew and Margaret Leigh left the cabin, they heard Hooter on the telephone to his brother. Even after they shut the front door, his booming voice carried through the night.

  “James, listen up, now. Shag on out of that Pirates' Den and get yourself over here. My girl's done flew the coop, and I need a card-playing partner.”

  Outside, Margaret Leigh pulled free of Andrew and leaned against the door. She was glad to be rid of Hooter, but she'd be darned if she'd let Andrew McGill know it.

  “You interrupted my evening.”

  “It was just a small rescue mission. All in a day's work. You can thank me tomorrow.”

  “Thank you!” She jutted out her chin and started toward her car. “I don't need rescuing, and I certainly don't need you for a keeper.”

  “You need both.” He caught up with her and scooped her into his arms.

  “Put me down.”

  “Why? So you can go back to your lover boy?”

  “So I can go to my car.”

  Ignoring her, Andrew strode into the darkness. That’s when Margaret Leigh saw the black stallion.

  “A horse! I can’t believe it. I’m being kidnapped on a horse.”

  Andrew tossed her onto the stallion’s back and mounted behind her.

  “Sit still, Margaret Leigh. Do you want to spook him?”

  “If you think I'm going anywhere with you on this horse, you're crazy.”

  “I'm crazy.” He pressed his knees into the stallion's sides, and they set off through the woods.

  Margaret Leigh felt hysterical laughter welling up. She squelched it by trying to ground herself in reality. The stallion's hooves pounded the earth, and pine trees reached out ghostly arms to her. Overhead, the moon rode high in the sky, bright and yellow as only an October moon can be. And she was headed heaven only knew where on a black horse.

  “Take me back to my car.”

  “Be quiet, Margaret Leigh. I can't enjoy the woods for all your chatter.”

  “You've ruined my evening. I see no reason why I shouldn't ruin yours.”

  “I can take you back to Hooter, if that's what you want. He's loud and clumsy and rough around the edges, but he's all man, or so the ladies say. I never figured him for your type, but if that's what you want, I’ll be willing to oblige.”

  “I was just getting ready to leave when you barged in.”

  He chuckled. “That's what I thought.”

  “Whose horse is this, anyhow?”

  “Mine.”

  “What are you doing on a horse?”

  “When my truck died, I whistled and the stallion came.”

  “I’m not impressed. Except maybe. A little. How’d you get him to do that?”

  “Training. All my creatures are well trained.”

  “Except me.”

  “Of course.” He squelched his laughter, for once in his life too polite to point out that she’d lumped herself with his creatures.

  o0o

  When Andrew's cabin came into view, it brought back memories too humiliating for Margaret Leigh to dwell upon. She’d been searching in the dark for a way to play the town vamp; she didn't have to search for a way to play the spurned woman. Her anger was fresh and very real.

  There wasn't much she could do on a horse. She tightened her fists and waited for her chance.

  Andrew didn't stop at the cabin; he took Margaret Leigh all the way to the barn. As they passed the kennels, his dogs started howling.

  “It's just me, boys,” Andrew called. “I'm home. Brought a lady with me, so you fellows be nice.”

  There was something comfortable and homey about a man talking to his dogs. Andrew's charm crept up on her unaware. To combat it, she conjured up the scene in his bed where he’d held her captive with his underwear. His charm vanished like dandelions on the wind.

  “Down you go, lady.”

  When he helped her off the horse, she kicked him in the shins.

  “Hey. What's that for?”

  “For kidnapping me and dragging me through the woods. For depriving me of my lover.”

  “Is that what this is all about? You're still bent on getting some man into your bed?”

  He unsaddled the stallion and began to rub him down with angry strokes.

  “Well, lady, I have news for you. You don't have to prove your desirability to strangers. You're all woman.”

  “Hooter thinks so. But then, he's all man.”

  Andrew didn't trust himself to answer as he led his stallion into the stall and latched the
door. When he turned around, Margaret Leigh was in a fighting stance, her hands on her hips, her eyes bright, and her hair disheveled from the wild ride through the night.

  As he moved toward her, she backed as far as she could go, and then a pile of hay stopped her. He caught her around the waist.

  “He's all man, is he?” His voice was dangerously soft. “You thought he'd give you what you want, did you?”

  “How dare you touch me.” She tried to twist away.

  “I dare.” He leaned closer, bringing the scents of pine and leather and hay with him. “Is this what you want, Margaret Leigh?”

  When his mouth descended on hers, she locked her teeth together. But she was no match for him. His mouth was seductive, possessive, punishing. It was not a kiss; it was a conquest.

  And she surrendered. Against her will, she responded to the persuasive power of Andrew McGill.

  He knew the moment she surrendered. A chuckle started deep in his chest and, as it made its way up his throat, he lifted his head and turned it loose. His laughter, rich with humor and satisfaction, filled the big barn.

  “If you think that proves you're more man than Hooter, you're sadly mistaken.”

  “I'm far from finished, my love.”

  He took her lips again. She was embarrassed by the ease of her surrender. Every inch of her body was aware of him. His strength and power sizzled through her until she felt electrified.

  Was this what it felt like to want a man, really desire him? Nothing in her experience had prepared her for this assault by Andrew McGill. He made her forget her aunt’s awful secret.

  She clung to him, wrapping her arms around his neck and pressing her body close to his. The tenor of his breathing changed, and he lowered her to the hay.

  Chapter Seven

  Through his fog of fury, Andrew rationalized what he was doing. He told himself that he was showing her teasing was dangerous. He convinced himself that he was seducing her so that she would know precisely what happened when she enticed men.

  Keeping his mouth locked on hers, he reached for her skirt. With one swift move he slid it up her legs. She sucked in her breath and a tremor ran through her. So far, so good, he thought. Let her know the consequences of her actions.