Maggie's Strength

by Kimberly Grist

  A thrill seeped through her, then she remembered her place. Maggie rose to her feet. “I should go.”

  B.J. wiped his mouth with his napkin. “Wait and I’ll walk you home.”

  “I can’t do this.” Maggie untied her apron.

  B.J. stepped in front of her. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to upset you talking about your real parents.” He lifted her chin and stared into her eyes.

  Maggie blinked rapidly. “It’s not that.”

  “What is it then?” With the pad of his thumb, he erased a tear.

  “You say such nice things and you make me feel—” Maggie's voice dropped off.

  B.J. circled his arms around her back and pulled her close. “I make you feel how?”

  Maggie pushed away. “I should have stopped this weeks ago. I enjoy being with you. But this isn’t proper.”

  “We’ve done nothing wrong. I enjoy spending time with you too.” B.J. stepped in front of the door. “Tell me what’s troubling you.”

  Maggie’s voice cracked. “I know you have a fiancée. You’re toying with me. I’ve been a fool to let it go on so long.”

  “Is that what you think of me?” B.J. ran his fingers through his hair. “I was engaged. Quite frankly she did me a favor by breaking things off.”

  Maggie’s lips trembled. “It’s clear you still love her.”

  B.J.’s jaw clenched. “What makes you say that?”

  “I’ve seen the way you stare at her picture.” Maggie glanced at the chain attached to his pocket watch, then opened the door and strode out into the darkness.

  Chapter 10

  B.J. clenched his fists. What just happened? Women! How could she think his intentions were anything but honorable? He stepped onto the back porch. The air was stagnant. A streak of heat lightning lit up the horizon. The early dusk was tinged with a dull green, emulating his mood.

  The rapid sound of tapping on the tin roof made his heart race. He cupped his hand to his mouth. “Maggie, come back.”

  B.J. took off in a sprint. Hail plummeted and bounced around in the wind. He caught up with Maggie and tugged her close to his chest with his arm. The roaring wind reminded him of a freight train. “We don’t have time to get back to the house. The root cellar is the closest shelter,” he yelled above the wind.

  Tiny pieces of ice pelted them as he opened the hatch and guided Maggie into the dugout, the irregular shape of a three-by-six feet oval. B.J.’s chest heaved as he leaned against the door. “I don’t know that I’ve ever been more petrified in my life. I was afraid I wouldn’t get to you in time.” A root-like aroma filled the air. He blinked and tried to accustom his sight to the darkness. “There should be a candle and matches somewhere.”

  “I’ve only come in here once with Malachi.” Maggie shivered. “I don’t like dark places or spiders.”

  B.J. chuckled and rubbed Maggie’s back. “I thought you were chilled because you were wet. I’d never guess you were afraid of anything much less tiny insects.”

  “You would guess incorrectly then.” Her voice was muffled, her face buried in his shirt. She clung to him as they listened to the low-pitched rumbling of the wind combined with the rain and ice that pounded the door. Finally, the sounds of the wind diminished.

  “Do you think the storm has passed?” Maggie’s voice cracked.

  “I’ll open the door a bit to let some light in and check things out.” B.J. guided Maggie to step behind him and slowly opened the door. Small pieces of debris blew across the yard. The light from the kitchen window burned. “Let’s give it a few more minutes and see if we can gauge the weather. Hopefully, the worst is past.”

  Maggie’s smoothed away wet tendrils of hair that were plastered to her face. “The storm seemed to come from nowhere.”

  B.J. opened the door wider to let light into the room. “My mother used to keep blankets and odds and ends stored here.” He reached for a box of matches and lit a lamp. A variety of shelves along the opposite wall contained boxes of potatoes and carrots stored in loose soil. Onions were tied with rope and hung next to various herbs from the ceiling. B.J. finally found what he was looking for—he opened a trunk and pulled out a blanket.

  “This should help.” B.J. wrapped the blanket across Maggie’s shoulders. Their eyes met. She turned her head toward the Benton’s home. “I think we should go back.”

  “Not yet.” B.J. placed his finger on Maggie’s chin and tilted her face toward him. “I want to say something first.” He swallowed. “I thought I was in love twice in my life. The first time it was a childhood crush of a friend whom I grew up with. But later when I went away to college, I met Claire. Her father was a bank owner and they lived in a grand house. She was beautiful and elegant and everything I thought I’d want and need to become a successful doctor in a big city hospital.”

  “You don’t have to tell me this,” she said.

  B.J. let out a deep breath. “ I do. She played me like a fiddle. Always demanding I take her places or buy her gifts. I tried to do whatever she wanted in order to please her. But when I asked her to move up the wedding date and come back here to live at least temporarily, things fell apart. Although my father would never ask it of me, I could tell from his letters he needed help.”

  “He wouldn’t ask for help,” Maggie agreed.

  B.J. ran his fingers through his hair. “She absolutely refused to even consider it. Told me I had to choose between my parents and her. That’s when I knew she wasn’t the person I thought she was.” He shook his head. “I should have realized her true character when she put up a fuss about my work at the Charitable Eye and Ear Infirmary. But I’d put her on a pedestal and refused to believe anything but what I dreamed her to be. In reality, she’s a spoiled socialite who would never lift a finger to help herself much less another person. I meant it when I said she did me a favor by breaking things off.”

  “But she’s so lovely.” Maggie’s voice cracked.

  “She’s not nearly as pretty as you.” B.J. wrapped his finger around a wet curl. “Your hair is like the color of wheat in the sunshine. Your eyes remind me of the ocean. I never know if they’re blue or green. Your smile lights up my day.” He released her hair and ran his finger along her cheek. “You have an inner beauty that far surpasses anything I’ve ever experienced. I’m happy when we’re together. I find myself thinking of you when we’re apart and counting down the minutes until I see you again.”

  A line furrowed between her brows. “If that’s true, it seems to me you would have destroyed Claire’s tintype by now.” A voice called out and a lantern flickered in the distance. Maggie recognized her father’s and Malachi’s voices. “I’m here, Papa.” Maggie stepped carefully toward the light.

  “Praise God. I was so worried.” Maggie’s father wrapped her in a bear hug, then turned toward B.J. “Thank you, Dr. Benton, I had a good view of the funnel cloud from my house and saw it turn west. I was hoping it veered off before it got to this part of town.”

  “I told Pa you’d keep Maggie safe.” Malachi pressed his lips together in a thin line and gestured towards the root cellar with his thumb. “But how you convinced my sister to take shelter in the dugout is beyond me.”

  “The sharp pieces of hail did the persuading.” Maggie rubbed her arm, then shuddered.

  “You can be assured my family and I have your daughter’s best interest at heart.” B.J. searched her face. “Let me get my bag. I’ll walk back with you, then if anyone’s been hurt during the storm, I’ll be available.”

  Chapter 11

  Maggie’s adoptive mother’s cheeks were pink from the heat of the kitchen. She pushed a strand of auburn hair flecked with gray behind her ear.

  “Tell me again how you got your name?” Maggie said.

  “I was the ninth child born to my parents. When I was born, my father remarked that my eyes were as green as the Blue Ridge mountaintops on a spring day, so he named me Tennessee May Johnson.” She punched down multiple mounds of dough. “It’s nice
to have you home again. Is Bea able to do her own cooking and cleaning now?”

  “Not quite, but she’s gaining strength every day. Her sister plans on staying with her for several weeks. Perhaps by the time she returns home, Mrs. Doc will be able to manage. She’s frustrated by how quickly her strength gives out.” Maggie chose an apple from the basket to peel.

  Tennessee walked to the stove and stirred the large pot of beef stew. After replacing the lid, her mother wagged her finger. “I know something is bothering you. It’s not like you to elect to stay in the house with me instead of working with your father.” Her hands rested on her hips. “And don’t give me the excuse you gave him this morning about making an apple cake. It’s the young doctor, isn’t it?”

  “It’s amazing to me how you always know when I’m worried.” Maggie’s hand touched her throat. “Sometimes you seem to know the cause before I do myself.”

  “It’s a mother’s intuition.” Tennessee laughed and wiped her hands on her apron. “At one point I thought you might marry Leo. He’s such a wonderful young man. But I sense you may have changed your mind.”

  “I’ve always thought of Leo as a good friend. He feels the same way.” Maggie added cut apple pieces to the bowl.

  “Your father and I were well acquainted before we were sweethearts.” Her dark green eyes twinkled. “Did I ever tell you the story about my best friend, Maude?”

  Maggie opened her mouth, then closed it. Maybe if she encouraged her mother’s storytelling, she would forget about pressing her for information about B.J. “This isn’t about the apple-peel test, is it?”

  “What?” Tennessee laughed, displaying dimples on either side of her mouth. “Yes and no. I thought for sure I told you how my friend Maude and I devised ways for her beau to fall in love with her. We did all kinds of things from collecting items such as a rabbit’s foot and horseshoes to searching for a four-leaf clover in the hopes he would propose. We also attempted the daisy and apple-peel test.”

  “Remind me what is the point of throwing the apple peel over your shoulder?” Maggie reached for another apple.

  Tennessee clucked her tongue. “It’s supposed to make the initial of your sweetheart. Take one and try it.”

  “No, I don’t think so.” Maggie offered a half smile.

  “What’s the matter? Are you afraid it will make an L? Or a B?” Her mother’s chuckle was infectious, and Maggie joined in.

  Tennessee tapped a finger on her cheek. “Where was I?”

  “You were telling me about your friend. What happened? Did she marry the man she was in love with?” Maggie nibbled on the fruit.

  “No.” She smiled slyly. “I thought for sure I’d told you this story. I married him instead.”

  Maggie coughed. “You stole Papa from your best friend?”

  “Of course not. He was never Maude’s to begin with. Your father has always had a mind of his own.” Tennessee pounded Maggie’s back. “Glad I am too.”

  The screen door slammed. Maggie’s father entered the kitchen. “I heard that. Don’t think I won’t remind you of it too.” Michael Montgomery winked at Maggie, then kissed his wife's cheek. “Lunch ready?”

  “It’ll be ready in about an hour. Where are the boys?” Tennessee lifted the pan to the back burner.

  “Mike’s busy at the livery stable. The others are helping deliver supplies and are doing some framing at the Murdock’s farm. I figure they’ll be back any time now.” Her father lifted the lid off the pot and inhaled.

  Maggie’s mouth lifted at the reference to her brothers. All five were broad-shouldered men and ranged in age from eighteen to thirty. “Would you care for some bread and cheese in the meantime? We’re running a bit behind because of the preparation for the raising bee tomorrow.”

  “No, I’ll grab an apple, then be back in a bit.” Her father grinned as he reached into the cookie jar instead and disappeared out the back door.

  Tennessee sat at the table and studied Maggie’s face. “Now tell me what’s troubling you about the young doctor? Your papa’s been expecting him to pay a call any day. Figured he’d want to ask permission to court you.”

  Maggie stared at the red-checkered oilcloth on the table. “He had a fiancée back east. I think he’s still in love with her.”

  “I see. Did he tell you that?” Tennessee leaned forward.

  “No, as a matter of fact, he said she did him a favor by breaking things off. But he carries her picture with him in his pocket watch.” Maggie met her mother’s gaze. “Don’t you find that odd?”

  “I wouldn’t like it, that’s for sure. It might mean something, then again it might not.” Her mother huffed. “It’s a mystery to me the way a man’s mind works. But establishing a good relationship takes time.” She peered at the back door. “When I’m with your father, even in the bad times, I have a sense of calmness knowing he and I are there for each other.”

  Tennessee reached for the heart-shaped trivet Maggie made when she was a child. “You know better than most how much effort goes into the objects you and your father create. It’s the perfect combination of applying heat and intensity to create something beautiful and long-lasting. Love is like iron in the hand of a blacksmith. It’s not easy. Sometimes you make mistakes and things don’t turn out as planned. But it’s worth the effort.”

  Maggie stared at her adoptive mother. “I like the way you put that. After Papa and I put heat to the metal, we hammer it out and create a design that is serviceable and beautiful.”

  “Exactly. With any relationship, you’ll have disagreements, but you accept and support each other for who you are individually. If you truly have feelings for this man, don’t let fear, confusion, or anger make you give up. Take some time to…” Her mother smiled. “…hammer things out.”

  Tennessee elbowed Maggie. “But don’t go settling. I don’t want any daughter of mine marrying someone unless I know for sure you love him and he loves you. Your papa and I are in no hurry for you to leave our nest.”

  Chapter 12

  Maggie deposited a full basket of fried chicken on the wagon bench next to two others, which contained loaves of bread and assorted baked goods. She gathered her skirts and took her seat next to her mother. “Are you sure about this?” She reached into her pocket and removed a handkerchief from her calico dress. “Shouldn’t I wear my work clothes? I don’t want to ruin my new gown.”

  With a sly smile, her mother tied the green bow of her straw bonnet. “Don’t be silly. I’m wearing my best and you should too. That’s what aprons are for. Besides, between your father and brothers, if there is any metal work to be done, I imagine they can manage.”

  Clucking her tongue to the horses, Maggie drove the wagon the mile and a half away from town toward Daniel’s and Lois’s home. The white house with green shutters made a pretty picture against the blue sky. They passed fields of cotton and alfalfa and dozens of haystacks, then turned down the dirt pathway that ran parallel to Lois’s parents’ farm. The tangy perfume of alfalfa filled the air.

  Maggie shook her head. “Isn’t it strange these farms and the town sustained so little damage in the storm, and yet just a few miles down the road, it flattened an entire barn?”

  “Your papa said the house itself only lost a few shingles. The Murdock family and all of Carrie Town have a lot to be grateful for. I’m happy the community is coming together to help. I like putting the Bible into practice. ‘Bear ye one another’s burdens, and so fulfill the law of Christ.’”

  “I know that it will be a lot of hard work. But it almost seems as though we’ve been invited to a party as opposed to a barn raising. From what little I’ve heard about the types of food everyone is bringing, we’ll have a feast. There’s to be dancing as well. Mike and Lois’s husband Daniel will bring their fiddles.”

  Maggie pressed her lips together and glanced at her mother. “I know you mean well. But please, Mama, if no one asks me to dance, don’t insist one of my brothers stand up with me. It’s too emb
arrassing.”

  Tennessee laughed and waved her hand. “That’s one of the reasons I wanted you to wear your new dress. Believe you me, you won’t lack for partners today.”

  Maggie shielded her eyes from the sun and scanned the horizon. The wagon wheels rattled as they followed the narrow lane toward the farm. The sweet scent of wildflowers surrounded them. A longhorn steer lay in a field of bluebonnets and Indian paintbrush. “The pastures are so beautiful,” Maggie marveled.

  Tennessee pointed toward a group of oak trees and flowering yucca plants clinging to three large boulders. “The homestead should be coming up on the left.”

  Maggie steered the wagon to a shady area in front of the house and aligned it with several other empty wagons. Girls from her Sunday School class ran toward them eager to help unload.

  “Good Morning, Mrs. Montgomery. Good Morning, Miss Maggie.” Ruth, the pastor’s daughter, said. Her blond curls were tied back with a bow, which matched her pink dress. She placed her hand on a younger girl’s shoulders. “Wait until Miss Maggie comes to a complete stop. Then you can help.”

  “It’s nice to see such eager workers.” Maggie gathered her skirts, jumped from the wagon, and hurried to the other side to assist her mother.

  Tennessee landed with a delicate thump. She spoke softly. “Your young doctor is here. Did you see? He’s standing next to your papa. I’m sure he means to ask for permission to court you.”

  Maggie glanced over her mother’s shoulder. A large group of wide-eyed men watched the testing of the foundation. Two measured the distance between the marked corners with a ten-foot pole while another hammered pins along the marked line.

  “Don’t be silly,” Maggie huffed. “He’s here for the same reason we are, to help this family rebuild their barn.”

  Her mother’s green eyes widened. ”I’m not denying it, but the young doctor strikes me as a man who uses his time wisely. And he is standing next to Papa.” Her mother leaned closer. “They appear to be in a deep discussion.”