Maggie's Journey (McKenna's Daughters) Page 16

  And there it was. A flat outcropping of whitish rock sunk deep into the side of the riverbank.

  “It’s beautiful.” Maggie stood transfixed. “In a natural sort of way.”

  “I’ve always loved it here with the rock and the swift flowing water.” Georgia shielded her eyes with one hand.

  Charles stared at the formation, then glanced at the wide river. “I wonder if God knew when He created this that people would need the rock as a marker.”

  Maggie looked up at him and the golden flecks in her green eyes glimmered in the sunlight. “What a strange thing to say.”

  At first, her words didn’t register in his mind, then their echo crept through his thoughts. “Why do you think it’s strange? God cares about the people He created, and He places things in our paths to lead us closer to Him.”

  She cocked her head to the side and stared across the water. “I’m not so sure He does.”

  Her words fell like heavy stones between them, and Georgia gave a small gasp.

  Charles had been so sure Maggie loved the Lord as much as he did, but those words didn’t make sense if she did. He remembered her scolding him for not attending church that day in her father’s office. What if she only went to church because her family did? Maybe she hadn’t met Jesus on a personal level as he had. He thought she had when she was younger. He remembered how she had always been an active participant in worship. Something had definitely changed in her life, and it had to be a recent change.

  “I’m going to try to get closer to the rock.” Maggie moved away from him and Georgia.

  “Do be careful. If you were to fall in the river, I’m not sure we could rescue you.” Georgia frowned.

  Maggie turned back toward them. “I won’t do anything dangerous.”

  When she started making her way across the uneven ground, Georgia took a step to follow.

  “Please stay with me.” Charles gently took her arm. “I’ve been wanting to ask you a question about Maggie.”

  Interest flared in Georgia’s eyes. “What about Maggie?”

  How should he put this without giving her the wrong idea about his friend? “Have you noticed anything different about Maggie lately?”

  Georgia pulled away from him and turned so she could see both her niece and him. “In what way?”

  “I’m not sure how to put it.” He ran his hand across the back of his neck and whooshed out a breath. “Something is bothering her, but I can’t imagine what it is.”

  “I haven’t noticed anything.” Concern puckered Georgia’s brow. “When did it start?” She glanced at Maggie then back toward him.

  “The first time I noticed was at her birthday party, and she’s been different ever since.” When he looked at Maggie, she stood near the rock and stared across the water. “Something deep in her eyes is always there like she has a secret that has hurt her somehow. It’s hard to explain.”

  Georgia watched Maggie for a moment. “I haven’t really spent that much time with her so that I could tell if anything is wrong. She always seems the same to me.”

  That didn’t gain him any information. He’d just have to look for a chance to talk to Maggie when no one else was around. He stared at a root beside his shoe while he pondered this. Nothing could be done today. So he shoved his concern into its compartment in his brain.

  He glanced up at Georgia. The wind whipped her skirts around her, outlining her figure, and pulling strands of hair from under her hat. Such a beautiful woman.

  Sidling up beside her, he tried to sound casual. “Georgia, I’d like to ask you a personal question.”

  Her attention flashed back toward him. “What kind of question?” Her tone was tentative and her gaze wary.

  “I’ve come to admire you greatly on our journey. We’ve had a lot of fun together.”

  She smiled and nodded at his statement.

  “When we get back to Seattle, I’d like to call on you.” He glanced down, almost afraid to watch her reaction. “Perhaps even court you.”

  At her gasp, he whipped his gaze toward her.

  “Is this a joke, Charles?”

  A joke? She thought it was a joke? He stared at her. He couldn’t keep the chagrin from his expression.

  Her face fell. “You weren’t joking, were you?”

  “I thought . . . something was developing between us.” He stuffed his hands into the pockets of his slacks.

  “Yes, a friendship.” She gazed toward the river. “I never realized you would think it was anything else. I’m old enough to be . . . well, I’m a lot older than you are.”

  He studied her, for the first time noticing almost invisible lines fanning from the corners of her eyes. Just how much older was she? Even if she were twenty-five or six, they could make a go of it.

  “I’m thirty-one, Charles.” Her tone had softened. “And besides that, I’m not interested in a romantic relationship with any man.” She cleared her throat. “I think it would be best if we just forget this conversation ever took place. Agreed?”

  Finally she looked at him. He had feared he would read pity in her gaze, but it wasn’t there, just steady regard and respect. “Agreed.”

  He had never been rebuffed by a woman before, but at once, he knew he deserved it. What was I thinking?

  Chapter 17

  Maggie stood at the river’s edge, watching willow branches sway in the soft breeze as they trailed in the water. Was Charles right? Did God place things in people’s lives because He knew they needed them? Like that slab of rock hidden in the riverbank for centuries until flooding water washed away the extra soil at just the right time the Indians needed it as a landmark. The idea brought a strange kind of peace to her soul. But did it really fit with her past?

  She wanted to believe it was true for her too. Perhaps God had hidden the secret of her adoption until the right time came to reveal it. Staring across the swirling water, Maggie recognized the enormity of such a discovery to the people who first noticed the white rock. Was her discovery of the adoption paper just as momentous? And did it happen at just the right time?

  A steamboat whistle drew her attention. She turned to look upstream. Quite a ways up the riverbank, the boat pulled close to a dock she hadn’t noticed until that moment.

  “Have you ever ridden in a steamboat?” Charles stood close beside her, and she hadn’t even noticed him approaching.

  She took one step away from him to put some space between them, giving her a better chance to control her emotions. “No, have you?” Her soft words floated away on the breeze.

  His wide smile revealed he’d heard them anyway, and the twinkle in his eyes made her think he had read her other thoughts. But did she really want him to? Probably not right now.

  “Would you like to go?”

  She considered his question for a moment. “I think Agatha has today all planned out.”

  “Then I’ll have to take you sometime after we get back home. Steamboats come into Puget Sound all the time.”

  As they started back up the trail toward where Georgia stood, his hand lightly touching her back comforted her. She could count on his friendship now just as she had as a girl. At least she had one really good friend. Hopefully the truth, when he finally heard it, wouldn’t drive him away from her.

  When it was time to climb single file, Charles took her hand and led the way. She wondered how he knew where to step, because he kept looking behind to make sure she and Georgia were safe instead of watching the path.

  Safe? She hadn’t realized that all the turmoil she’d been going through since she found the white chest actually made her feel unsafe. But she did. What would Daddy and Florence do when they found out she knew the truth? Would her parentage change everyone’s perception and acceptance of her?

  She felt as if the ground shifted under her feet, shaking her very foundation. Thank goodness, the riverbank was solid and sturdy. The turmoil was all inside her.

  •••

  Even though Georgia had been
gracious as she rejected his presumptuous request, Charles still felt the sting of realizing he’d made a fool of himself. He’d never been in a situation like this before. His grandpa would have been ashamed of him for such a breach of conduct.

  Actually, he was ashamed of himself. For putting her on the spot that way. For not being more careful about understanding the dynamics of their relationship. For actually failing to protect Georgia the way he had assured Joshua he would. If any other man would have made a move on her that way, Charles would have had to put him in his place.

  He was just thankful no one else knew about his faux pas. For the rest of the journey, he would keep his mind where it belonged and truly fulfill his responsibility both to Georgia and Maggie . . . and to Joshua.

  After Charles helped the ladies into the surrey, they continued their tour. He’d enjoyed the ride, but he watched Maggie and the scenery and didn’t even glance at Georgia. Before he made his mistake with Georgia, he had asked her about Maggie. Maybe he should concentrate on trying to find out how he could help his good friend. He kept looking for some indication of what was bothering her.

  Along the way, they met more than one horse-drawn streetcar. Other people rode in open buggies and closed coaches, and several men rode horses, looking like citified cowboys. Not too many cowboys in Seattle these days. Loggers and Indians, but not cowboys.

  When they started down the street where the Anthony House—Little Rock’s most popular hotel—stood, Agatha tapped Tucker on the shoulder. “Let’s stop here for lunch.”

  “Yes, ma’am, Miz Agatha.” The black man deftly maneuvered the surrey close enough to the boardwalk in front of the building, so the passengers could actually move from the step of the buggy to the edge of the wooden platform.

  Charles exited the surrey first, then assisted the women as he always did. He followed the women through the doorway of the hotel into a large lobby area, with carpeting, brass fittings, and polished wooden banisters on the staircase. Light fixtures fastened to the walls were lit, even though sunlight poured between the pulled-back draperies on the windows.

  In the dining room many of the linen-draped tables were in use, but Agatha headed toward an empty one near the front windows. “Let’s sit here. I like to watch the people coming and going in the street.”

  After they ordered their food, Agatha looked at Maggie. “So, Margaret, tell me more about your dear mother. How does she spend her days?”

  Maggie glanced up as if startled. Charles wondered why the question would bother her.

  She hesitated a moment, then cleared her throat. “She stays busy most of the time. She’s involved in many things at church and around town.”

  “What kind of things?” Agatha leaned toward her with interest written all over her face.

  Charles wondered how long it had been since she had seen her older daughter. And he was thankful she didn’t know about his blunder with her younger one.

  “She and her friends often have tea parties.”

  “Sounds like fun. Do you go with her?”

  “Not often. I have my own interests.” A slight frown marred Maggie’s face. “She enjoys all the balls and going out to eat with Father. Seattle has a couple of theaters, and Mother and Daddy often attend galas there. And she loves to shop.”

  “Yes.” Georgia smiled toward her mother. “Florence took me shopping several times after I arrived for Maggie’s party. We had a really good time, Mother. Seattle is not a small town. It’s a city filled with an amazing assortment of things and interesting people to watch.”

  Even though he still felt uncomfortable, he forced himself to glance at Georgia as the conversation continued.

  “I’m glad to hear that my daughter has a good, full life.” Agatha’s brow puckered when she looked at Maggie. “I wasn’t sure how it would turn out when Joshua wanted to go west.”

  Maggie stared out the window, but Charles didn’t think she paid attention to what was out there. At least she didn’t know about what he’d done out there on the riverbank. They could continue their comfortable friendship.

  “Of course, when she had Maggie, her letters were filled with anecdotes about my adorable granddaughter.” Agatha patted Maggie’s hand, and Maggie gave her a tight smile. “A mother never stops worrying about her children, especially when they don’t live close to her. So Maggie, would you say your mother is happy?”

  Maggie thrust her hands out of sight in her lap. “I’m sure she is most of the time.” Her answer sounded tentative to Charles. He stared at her, trying to pierce the façade she hid behind.

  Georgia leaned toward her mother. “You should have seen the lavish party Flo planned for Maggie’s eighteenth birthday. I’m sure most of the elite in Seattle were in attendance. And there was a ball. Maggie wore that green dress you made for Florence. It brought out her loveliness. Just the right shade for her unique coloring.”

  For a moment, Maggie winced as if in pain. At least her grandmother wasn’t looking at her when she did. But Charles noticed.

  He watched this conversation unfold with interest. Georgia was really involved in the discussion, but when her aunt added information, Maggie leaned back as if withdrawing from them.

  When she had been talking, Charles saw her countenance change. All Agatha did was mention her mother, and the laughing Maggie disintegrated into a girl fighting to hide her tears. He recognized all the signs. He’d seen them before, he just hadn’t put it all together until now. He wanted to offer her his handkerchief, but he somehow understood she hoped no one else would notice. Just as he hoped no one else would discover his mistake, he wouldn’t betray her.

  I have to find out what’s going on with her. It must be something with her mother. Or is she just homesick? He and his grandfather had known the Caines at church, and they often attended the same functions around town. He’d never seen anything to indicate there was a problem within the family. He believed he would’ve noticed if anything were amiss between her and her parents, especially her mother.

  Something momentous must have happened. As he watched her blink away a fine sheen of tears, he vowed to find out what event brought her to this display of deep hurt. Then he’d plan how he could help her through the situation as any good friend would.

  Chapter 18

  A fter attending church with Agatha on Sunday, the second week in Arkansas was filled with Maggie spending as much time as possible at The House of Agatha Carter. Before this, she hadn’t realized how much was involved in running a business. Her grandmother taught her about ordering products, dealing with customers, accounting, and taking care of payroll. All of this would help if she ever started a design business of her own.

  Now she had only one more day until they would start the homeward journey. Their two weeks in Arkansas had sped on eagles’ wings, and Maggie found herself dreading her return to Seattle. She understood she had to know the truth, but she knew the confrontation with her parents could be unbearably painful.

  After breakfast, Maggie quickly donned a forest green, jean wool skirt. She loved the soft texture and the strength of this woven fabric. The color matched the tatted edges of the ruffles cascading down the front of her favorite pinstriped blouse. When she looked in the cheval glass, the woman staring back at her gave a very professional appearance, if she could only tame those curls that insisted on escaping every chance they could. She shoved several kinky strands back into the bun on her nape and added more hairpins. Hopefully these would hold them in place.

  Today she was going to do design work with Agatha. After looking at a few of Maggie’s designs, her grandmother said she had a rare talent. And today she wanted her opinion on ideas for some new patterns she was working on. This was far more than she had dreamed would happen while she was here. She skipped down the stairs and found Agatha waiting in the foyer.

  Agatha indicated Maggie’s empty hands. “Where is your sketch pad?”

  She stopped before she reached the bottom step. “Do I need to br
ing it?”

  “Yes. I’ll want to study all your drawings today. Perhaps they will give me ideas for our new fashions as well.” A smile curled the ends of her grandmother’s lips.

  Maggie whirled around and took the stairs at a fast clip. Excitement throbbed through her, shadowed by intimidation. How could she possibly contribute to the wonderful designs her grandmother produced? After grabbing up her sketches, she also stuck the pencils in her handbag and ran back downstairs to join her grandmother, arriving out of breath.

  When they reached The House of Agatha Carter, Grandmother told her to put her things in the office. “If you don’t have a pad to takes notes, I’ll give you one of mine.”

  “Thank you. Actually, I always carry one. I never know when I’ll see something I want to remember.” Maggie grabbed a stubby, flat wooden pencil and a small pad and thrust them into the pocket cleverly hidden in the side of her skirt.

  As Agatha talked with each of her employees, Maggie took copious notes, along with creating tiny illustrations. She had no idea how long it would be before she could even consider trying to start a business of her own, and she wanted to remember every detail. After they had talked to each of the employees about their assignments for the day, Agatha led her into the office. “Now let me see your sketches.”

  Maggie pulled her drawings out of the handbag and handed the sketchpad to her grandmother. Agatha dropped into the wing-back chair behind the desk and studied the first drawing. Maggie tried not to fidget too much while she waited. Although Agatha had said they were good when she looked at them earlier, what if she changed her mind in the meantime?

  “I like this design. Come here and I’ll show you what is really good and what I would change and why.” She gestured for Maggie to scoot one of the other chairs closer.