Maggie Shifts Her Gent

by Linda Hubalek

The grief-stricken husband was kneeled down on one knee beside the bed, his arms wrapped around the two older children. Peter closed his eyes, sad thinking about the loss this family has had to face. And this was probably the only photograph of the family with all five of them together.

  “Look at the man’s face, Peter.”

  Peter opened his eyes, then reached for the photograph to study it closer. Peter’s and the man’s features, from the wave in his black hair to the shape of his eyebrows and chin, were very similar. “No wonder Bonita has me confused with her father.”

  “I’m going to look through the rest of this package.”

  Maggie unwrapped a small Bible, as they had guessed, and a letter stuck inside it. She looked in the front of the Bible first. “It’s in another language, but I see the children’s, parents, and most likely, two more generations above them.”

  “Gatti is an Italian family name,” Peter automatically answered. But how did he know that? He still hadn’t figured out how he knew that name.

  Maggie glanced over at the baby, still in the same position as when Maisie left it a minute ago, staring into space.

  “Alice, you need attention, whether you know it or not.”

  Maggie stood and carefully lifted the baby to her shoulder before sitting down in her chair again and leaning back. Once settled in place, she unfolded the one sheet of paper. She silently read the letter, probably not wanting to say whatever was written out loud.

  A single tear ran down her face as she put down the letter.

  “What did it say?”

  “He couldn’t go on without her,” Maggie explained in a way Peter would understand without the children hearing the dreadful words.

  “He kil—” Peter stopped himself and reached for the letter.

  My wife died in childbirth, and I have a terminal disease….

  Peter read the letter which went on to list the facts of the children, their names, birthdates, continuing on with a few personal facts.

  He folded the letter and handed it back to Maggie. The children had grown quiet in his lap. Bonita, sucking her thumb, was almost asleep as she fought to keep her eyes open. Christian quietly stared up at Peter with trust in his eyes, but his hands still firmly around his middle as far as he could reach.

  “Supper’s ready. Please come eat,” Maisie announced as she laid a plate of sandwiches on the dining room table. “It will be a simple meal since we’ve been taking care of the children.”

  “Let’s eat, children,” Maggie said as she carefully stood, adjusting the baby, Alice, on her shoulder.

  “You just as well put the baby down while you eat, Maggie. We tried to feed her before you came back from the hotel,” Maisie advised her sister.

  “Did she drink any milk?”

  “Just a little. Aunt Millie said to keep offering the bottle every couple of hours,” Maisie answered grimly.

  The look exchanged between the sisters conveyed their worry that the baby might not survive.

  Peter stood, balancing a child in each arm, and walked to the table. He never guessed when he opened the barbershop this morning he’d be taking care of two children this evening, but that’s how fast life can change.

  As an orphan himself, he knew their pain and confusion.

  Chapter 8

  For being stressed, the children were sure hungry, eating half a sandwich as if they hadn't eaten in a week. Which might be true due to their situation. Now that they felt safe with their “papa,” they were ravenous.

  Now the hard part would be to get the children to sleep without being in Peter's lap. He was back on the settee with the children sprawled across his lap and arms.

  “Knock, knock,” the muffled voice of Tobin on the other side of the apartment door drifted into the living room.

  “I'll get it,” Maisie called out as she left the kitchen. She had taken off her apron and was patting her hair in place.

  “Well, Tobin, what are you doing here with your kittens?” Tobin had a young cat in each arm. No wonder he called out instead of rapping on the door.

  “I thought my kitties needed to play with Molly's kitties, and meet your guests,” Tobin mischievously answered. Squires was standing behind Tobin and plucked the man's hat off his head as Tobin walked on.

  “And why are you here, Squires?” Maisie asked in a slightly mocking tone.

  Maggie couldn’t figure out why those two didn’t get along.

  “To support, Maggie, the woman I’m supposed to marry. I assume Peter is here for you, for the same reason?” Squires glared at Maisie.

  Neither couple the Peashooters put together were the right match, but that was the least of their worries now.

  “Hello, children,” Tobin ignored Squires and Maisie as he squatted in front of the children. “I'm Tobin Billings, and I'd like you to meet my kitties, Salt, and Pepper.”

  Tobin had played with the feral kittens so much that they were purring instead of fighting as he held them out to show the children.

  “This one is named Salt because she's all white, and Pepper, her opposite, is all black, except for the tiny white spot on her belly.”

  He rolled the kitten onto her back to show the children, and the kitten continued to happily purr.

  “You can gently touch their head to feel their fur. It's so soft,” Tobin continued as he held a kitten in front of each child.

  “Let me help you,” Molly volunteered as she sat down next to Tobin and reached for Pepper.

  Tobin had given Molly two kittens from this same batch which were born in his livery, but she'd kept them in her room today instead of subjecting them to the traumatized children. Molly’s kittens, Mavis and Misty, hadn't been handled as much as Salt and Pepper.

  “Now I want to know your names. Little miss, can you tell me your name?” Tobin asked Bonita as he held out the white kitten for her to touch. Tobin gently took her hand and slid her fingers over the kitten's back.

  “Bonita,” the little girl replied, emphasizing the middle syllable.

  “I'm so pleased to meet you, Miss Bonita.”

  He turned to Christian, who still hadn't touched the black kitten Molly held in front of him.

  “And what's your name, little man?”

  Maggie held her breath, hoping Tobin could get the boy to talk, but Christian remained silent.

  Tobin thought for a moment, then set the kitten on the floor beside him. The kitten curled up in a ball and continued to purr instead of wandering off.

  Tobin put his finger to his ear and slowly and clearly asked Christian,” Please nod your head if you can hear me.”

  Christian barely acknowledged Tobin, but it was clear he had heard Tobin's question.

  Tobin put his finger to his mouth. “Can you speak?” He didn't ask it in a harsh way but in a curious tone.

  When Christian didn't say anything, Tobin made a few gestures with his hands, then sat back on his haunches.

  “My adoptive parents couldn't hear or speak, so we talked by making motions with our hands. It's called sign language. Let me show you. Squires, please come down here on the floor so we can demonstrate. My friends learned the language too.”

  At least Squires didn't roll his eyes and announce he was being told to do it.

  Both children's eyes were focused on Tobin's and Squires' hands now held out in front of them.

  “What name do you sometimes call me?” Tobin said as he signed. “Ribbit, ribbit,” Tobin added in a deep voice.

  “Toad, because you're short and squat. What's my nickname?” Squires said as he signed back. “Chip, chip, chip,” Squires surprised them all with his high noise.

  “Squirrel, because you chatter and can climb a tree real fast,” Tobin answered.

  Maggie watched as the children relaxed and smiled at the men's banter.

  Bonita pointed at Peter.

  “Peter, what's your nickname, since you're big and strong to carry babies—or small children—on your back?” Toad asked.

 
; Peter unwrapped his arms around the children and raised his hands in front of them to answer.

  “My nickname has been ‘possum’ since I was four years old and met these fellows on our train ride to Kansas,” Peter signed, but Maggie didn't know if he really signed all of that or just said it instead.

  Next Bonita pointed to Maggie.

  “My childhood nickname was Maggie Daggie, but I don’t know how to sign it. I’ll have to learn how, won’t I,” Maggie answered.

  Bonita pointed to Molly and Maisie.

  “Molly Dolly,” Molly answered, pretending to swing a doll in her hands.

  “Maisie Daisy, like the pretty white flower,” Maisie told Bonita.

  Next Bonita pointed to her chest, and everyone looked at Tobin since he was the most creative of the bunch.

  “Miss Bonita, I give you the nickname… Bonita Bunny, because I bet you can hop like a bunny rabbit.”

  Bonita giggled, crawling off Peter’s lap for the first time all evening to hop on all fours around the room.

  Tobin jumped up and down twice while saying “ribbit,” while Squires sat back on his heels, put his fists in front of his chest and chirped in his false high tone.

  Everyone laughed at the two men being silly with Bonita.

  “Now, what shall we nickname you, Master Christian?” Tobin was still signing what he was saying, but Maggie didn't think Christian knew sign language.

  “Hmm. Our other friends in town, which you might not have met yet—are Barton, the Badger, Gordon, the Gopher, and Wesley, the Weasel.”

  “How about Christian, the Chipmunk?” Peter answered for Christian. “Chipmunks can't always talk because their mouths are sometimes full of nuts.”

  Christian looked up at Peter, who blew out his cheeks and poked his extended cheeks with his index fingers to make the children laugh.

  Maggie smiled in relief as Christian tried to mimic Peter, then broke into a smile. Thanks to these men, the children had forgotten today's trauma for a little while.

  “Alith?” Bonita pointed to her little sister.

  “Her nickname? How about Alice, the Angel?” Maggie swallowed hard at Tobin's suggestion because she wasn't sure if Alice might survive the trauma of the day.

  “We haven't had dessert yet,” Maisie announced, probably realizing the men wanted to discontinue their antics and get off the floor.

  “What do we smell, Chipmunk and Bunny?” Tobin asked as he stood and held out his hand to Bonita.

  “Maybe apple crisp?” Maggie answered for the children.

  “Doesn't that sound delicious, Christian? Let's go back to the table and have a serving,” Peter asked, setting the boy on his feet but still holding on to his hand.

  Having Christian walk beside Peter instead of him having to carry the boy was an accomplishment.

  “Hmm, umm. Delicious warm apple crisp,” Squires smacked his lips after licking his spoon. Little did he know; Bonita was copying him.

  “Which sister baked this delectable dessert?” Squires looked at Maggie and Molly but ignored Maisie.

  “I did,” Maisie said sweetly as she glared at Squires. “Would you like another serving...Tobin and Peter?”

  “I would be most honored to savor another spoonful or two, Miss Maisie. How about you, Master Christian?” Tobin asked the boy as he pushed his own bowl to Maisie to refill.

  Christian nodded and pushed his bowl forward too.

  The adults continued talking about their jobs as a way to keep the conversation light around the children. Tobin told an animated story about the mules in his livery, while Squires practically shuddered in distaste for the animals. Peter kept quiet, allowing Christian to crawl onto his lap and lean against his chest. The man was a natural with children.

  “I believe it's time we head home, guys. You ladies have three sleepy children to put to bed,” Peter said as he stood to leave, setting Christian on his feet again.

  “Yes, it's Salt and Pepper's bedtime too,” Tobin suggested as he rose from his chair.

  “Oh, Squires, we forgot the cradle on the landing outside the door. Please bring it in while I gather the kittens.”

  “You brought a cradle for Alice, Tobin? I appreciate that,” Maggie thanked the man.

  “It was sitting in one of the bedrooms in Mr. Boyle's house, and he offered it to you.”

  Tobin had recently moved in with Lucas Boyle, the older gentleman who sold his livery and home to Tobin.

  “Where I sleep?” Bonita asked as she looked up at Maggie. The child was about to fall asleep standing up, although she'd taken a nap earlier that evening.

  “You and Christian can sleep in my bed with me tonight, okay?” Maggie gently suggested, but Christian's eyes grew wide with fright as he tried to crawl up Peter's body again.

  “Christian, you'll be safe with Maggie and your sister,” Peter whispered in Christian's ear. The boy's response was to fervently shake his head. He was starting to tremble too.

  Shoot. Christian was starting to feel comfortable here, and now he was panicking again.

  “Do you want to go home with me for the night, Christian? I just live down the block,” Peter finally asked.

  Christian looked at his sisters a moment, probably hating to leave them alone with strangers, and then shook his head to Peter's offer.

  “I'll stay with Maisie tonight, so you can use my room, Peter,” Molly offered.

  It wasn't an ideal arrangement, but under the circumstances, it was the best for the children.

  Peter's eyes widened, probably not planning on spending the night in the dress shop apartment with three women and three children, but it was the best solution for this first night.

  “Uh,” Peter turned to Maggie to protest. “The possum is a night creature and doesn't sleep well at night.”

  “Well tonight, the possum can pretend he's d-e-a-d, and sleep with you know who until he's asleep,” Maggie shot back, thinking of Christian's need to have Peter nearby.

  “Agreed. Christian, I'll stay here with you tonight, but only tonight, understand?”

  Christian didn't answer Peter, but Maggie saw tears drip down the poor boy's face. Peter must have felt the new tears on his neck because he murmured his assurances in Christian's ear and tightened his grip on the boy.

  “Squires, please follow me with the cradle. We'll put the baby in with Molly and me this first night,” Maisie said as she turned to go down the hallway.

  “She can be with Bonita and me,” Maggie protested.

  “You and Bonita need a good night's sleep. Molly and I will take turns trying to feed Alice through the night.”

  Maggie just hoped the baby lived through the night.

  “All right. I've already pulled their nightshirts from their bag. They are on my bed.”

  Peter sat down on the settee again, maybe waiting for her instructions?

  “Why don't you take Christian to use the toilet while Molly gets her room ready for the two of you?”

  “Will do,” Peter gamely agreed and stood up. “Let’s get ready for bed, Christian. I’m really tired. How about you?”

  The big sigh from the little boy caused Maggie to place her hand over her heart. She wanted to help this child so badly. The trauma the boy had suffered in his short life pulled a need in her to help him recover.

  Chapter 9

  Peter slowly woke up because his right arm was numb. His sighed before opening his eyes, knowing why he had a kink in his neck too.

  He opened his eyes and glanced at the three people piled against him, where he sat on the settee. After a long night—and very early morning—Christian and Bonita finally gave in to their exhaustion and sank in a deep sleep. Apparently, Maggie did too as her head rested against the front of his shoulder, cutting off the circulation to his arm.

  Peter and Maggie had started out with a child in separate bedrooms, but then Bonita started crying for her brother, which woke Christian. They tried putting the children in bed together, but they wanted Peter with
them, and he was too big and tall to fit in a single bed with them. They finally ended up together on the settee at three o'clock this morning. The mantel clock in the room showed the time now at six-thirty. Could he carry the children back to bed without waking them up?

  Peter wiggled the shoulder Maggie was leaning against, hoping she'd wake up slowly without jumping up to see what was wrong. The woman had handled the children's situation admirably, but she was exhausted too.

  Maggie's eyelashes fluttered a few moments before her blue eyes widened with awareness. She lifted her head and looked at Peter.

  “Let's try to carry them to bed,” Peter whispered as quietly as he could.

  Maggie nodded, and then looked at how the children were lying, entangled together across both their laps. Peter knew the chances of them waking up were strong, but he needed to use the toilet and stretch his numb limbs.

  “I'll pick up Bonita first,” Maggie whispered as she slowly slid her hands under the child's torso, as the girl was lying on her stomach on top of Christian's back.

  Bonita sighed in her sleep, but Maggie was able to pick her up and lay her against her shoulder. Maggie stood a minute before walking because she'd be stiff too.

  Peter gave Christian a minute after Maggie moved Bonita to settle down again. Christian turned in his sleep, and Peter used his movement to pull him against his chest and stand.

  The relaxed boy’s face in a deep sleep looked so much different now than last night in his panicked state.

  Hopefully, the children won't be in such a stressed condition today, but they had been in a terrible situation since their parents’ deaths. They needed stability with a new family as soon as possible.

  After being sure the children were still asleep, Peter slipped into the bathroom. He looked into the mirror on the wall and rubbed his bristly chin. His overnight beard re-growth was thick and dark, he had shadows under his eyes and... he reached to pull something out of his hair. Apple crisp from Bonita's sticky hands.

  His shirt was rumpled and dirty. Nervous sweat when sewing up wounds made him remove his vest, and he'd never gotten his jacket back after covering the injured woman with it.