Maggie's Journey (McKenna's Daughters) (15 page)

“Yes, ma’am.” Ingrid turned away and started down the backstairs.

Florence hurried to the door to the attic. She thrust it open and climbed the steep stairs. Morning light streamed in through the dormer windows. Even though dust motes twirled in the streaks of light, she noticed that the attic had recently been cleaned. No trails in the dust to tell if Margaret had moved anything else.

She glanced around and tried to remember exactly where she’d hidden it. So many wooden boxes and trunks were stored in the vast open space, she might have a hard time finding it. A long rope stretched across a section of the attic. The clothes hanging there were covered by dingy sheets, looking like dirty ghosts from her past. She pulled back the edge of the end sheet. Nothing was stacked behind them.

Trying to remember what was stored in each container, she eliminated some of them. Then she spied the haphazard stack in a dark corner. Older blankets lay across them. She pulled them off. As she dug deeper and deeper, she found things they had worn on the wagon train. Each garment carried a load of memories. Memories that weighted her down even more. Even the dress she’d been wearing that fateful night when Angus McKenna gave Margaret to them. She remembered the feel of the infant cradled against her shoulder. The way the tiny girl nestled close, trusting her.

Florence shook her head. She didn’t have time to think about that now. She had to find out. Finally, she came to the familiar trunk.

With each belonging she brought out into the light more and more unpleasant thoughts assailed her. As she dug back into the past, she feared that all her lies would be revealed as well. When she reached the bottom without finding the white chest, she knew. Margaret had to have found it . . . and opened the Pandora’s box of secrets Florence had kept hidden for so many years. Now there would be no way to get them all back out of the light into the darkness where no one could see them.

She left the mess scattered on the floor and hurried down the stairs, tripping more than once on the steep steps. When she reached Margaret’s room, she searched high and low—everywhere a chest that size could be hidden. She opened the wardrobe, and the green dress hanging there mocked her. Behind it was an empty space where something could have been stored. Did her daughter hide the chest in there? Did Margaret take the chest to Arkansas with her? Should she ask Ingrid?

Immediately she knew that wasn’t a good idea. If Margaret hadn’t told Ingrid, Florence didn’t want the servant to know. She went back to the bedroom she shared with her husband and sat in the chair beside the window. The memories that had been chasing her landed in the center of her mind. Every detail of that time eighteen years ago played through her mind. Her blaming God for her childlessness. Railing at Him because He gave three children to Mrs. McKenna. Wishing she could have one of the woman’s babies.

And then the woman’s death, which hung heavy on her heart, closely followed by God’s indescribable gift. Finally, the tears she’d held in through all the intervening years gushed forth like the waves battering the shores of Puget Sound during a storm. She wept alone, wishing she could go back and do things differently this time. Would she ever regain her daughter’s trust, or was it too late?

Chapter 15

The day following their anniversary celebration Joshua had a hard time keeping his mind on business. Still, it was essential that they finish the construction in the building as soon as possible without causing the customers undue stress. Today three or four things went wrong, keeping him at work longer than he’d planned to stay. All he really wanted to do was get home to Florence.

Last night had turned out even better than he’d hoped it would. The special meal was delicious. The servants pulled it off flawlessly. Flory had bought him a very thoughtful gift for their anniversary. He’d cherish the gold watch until his dying day. She’d loved the sapphire necklace. It was the last thing she took off before she went to bed with him. He dared not think about what followed, or he would be out the door and on the way home for more of the same.

The Flory he’d known and loved as a young woman had returned last night with all the passion they’d shared. He was sure her heart was softening so much that when Maggie came home, she’d even treat their daughter in a totally different way. Everything he’d wanted to happen while Maggie was gone was finally coming to pass.

And Flory wasn’t the only person changing. So was he. His focus, which had been completely on work for so long, had returned to the place where it belonged. Yes, business was important. Yes, he wanted to take care of his family financially. But more importantly, now he wanted all the facets of his life to be in the proper relationship with everything else.

God first. His wife and family second. The business and everything else following behind those two things.

Finally, all the problems at work had been taken care of, and he was on the way home. He pushed all the business details into the compartment in his mind where they belonged. While Erik drove the buggy, Joshua let his mind dwell on his still-beautiful wife waiting for him there.

When Erik stopped the carriage, Joshua jumped out and hurried toward the front door. He let himself in, expecting to find Flory waiting downstairs for him, but she was nowhere to be found. He took the steps two at a time and hurried down the hallway, thrusting the door open with a bang.

Florence stood beside the bed. She turned her face toward the door when the knob hit the wall. When she flinched, he grabbed the door and stabilized it, wishing he’d been more careful.

Then he noticed her face. Not the smile he’d been expecting. Instead, her tear-ravished expression tore at his soul. He rushed toward her and pulled her into his arms. “Flory, what’s wrong?”

She leaned her head against his chest a moment. “Joshua, I must tell you something.” Her voice trembled as did her body.

The cold, flat tone of her words told him that something was terribly wrong. What could have happened since he left her asleep this morning, her face still rosy from their lovemaking? Dread fell like a heavy cloak on his shoulders.
Lord
,
make me the husband she needs right now
,
whatever the problem is.

“What is wrong?” He tried to keep his tone loving and hide the fear that clawed at him.

A sob shattered the stillness. “I don’t know where to start.”

This wasn’t sounding promising. What could have happened while he was gone? “Maybe at the beginning would be good.”

Her trembling increased, and he pulled her even tighter against him. A man of action, he found it hard to wait for her to speak.

“Margaret . . . ” Her voice broke on that one word, and she didn’t continue.

The question that had been burning in his mind for a long time came to the forefront.

“There’s one thing I don’t understand, Flory.” He hesitated to ask, because he didn’t want to make her feel bad again. But he wanted to know, needed to know. For Maggie. “Why did you start being hard on our daughter?”

He wondered if she was going to answer, because she didn’t say a word for so long.

“I’m not proud of this either. But . . . ” She let her voice trail away. “Remember how you told me for so long . . . it didn’t matter to you that we didn’t have any children? That our love was enough?”

“Right.”

Where was she going with this? If he lived a million years, he’d never learn to understand the way a woman’s mind worked. Men were decisive. A woman’s mind took the long way around a subject. That must be what was happening here.

“When you doted on Margaret so much, I thought you’d only said that to make me feel better.” The words came out in a rush this time. “So I decided I really was only half a woman. That idea festered like a splinter in my soul, making me into a bitter woman. I was trying to balance your spoiling by being harder on her, maybe harder than I should have been. Now you know, and I’m not proud of it.”

Now they were getting somewhere with this discussion. “You do know that after the enemy of your soul fed you one lie and you believed it, he kept on telling you others.”

She nodded. “Of course, I realize that now. Thanks to you.” She stared up into his eyes.

He was glad he had his arm around her. “And we’ll have no more of those kinds of secrets between us, will we?”

Pain and fear entered her eyes, and she dropped her gaze. He could tell something else still bothered her. For a moment all was quiet as he waited silently, praying for this woman he loved with all his heart. He couldn’t imagine what had caused her so much distress, but he was ready and able to fight the battle for her. Be her protector. Supernatural strength from God flowed through him, preparing him to face whatever was to come.

Finally, she raised her head and turned her anguished gaze toward his. “Margaret found the chest of things I kept from the wagon train.”

He didn’t understand why that would upset Florence so much. She must have read his hesitancy, because she pulled away and paced across their bedchamber. She jerked back the heavy draperies and stared out into the waning sunlight. Her profile didn’t reveal what was amiss.

“The adoption paper was in the bottom of that chest, along with the daguerreotype of her mother that Angus McKenna gave us.” Florence turned back toward him. “I’m sure she’ll recognize the resemblance.”

He went to her and pulled her back against him, nestling her head under his chin. “Why is this so distressing to you?”

“Remember, I talked you into keeping the truth from her.” Her words were ragged around the edges. “I’m afraid that was a mistake. What if she hates us for lying to her?”

For the life of him, he couldn’t understand why that would happen. “But we’ve been good parents to her. Why would she hate us?”

She pulled away and stood before him, wringing her hands. “You’ve been good to her, but I have been too hard on her, at least the last few years.”

How could he not agree with that? Hadn’t he been hoping their time together would mellow Florence toward their daughter? “All right, let’s discuss all the repercussions of this discovery, see what we can do about it.”

“She changed toward me after she found the chest.”

His analytical mind couldn’t find a root cause for all this information. “How do you know when she found it?”

She started pacing again, back and forth across the expanse of the room, still wringing her hands. “It had to be before her birthday party, when she found the dress. That was when her attitude toward me changed. I wondered what was causing it, or if she had been this way and I hadn’t noticed before.”

Florence stopped and clasped her hands in front of her. “I haven’t been the kind of mother I should have been for Margaret.”

He didn’t know what direction she was going with this, but he really wanted to get to the root cause of their family problems. “And why is that, Flory?”

She turned away, going to her dresser and nervously straightening the things on top. She kept her back to him, but he caught her glancing at him in the mirror. So he forced a smile on his face, even though he was confused.

“I’ve been afraid to tell you.”

He started to move toward her, but she sidestepped, so he held his place. “Why would you fear me? Have I ever done anything to hurt you?”

She shook her head. “No. It’s all my fault.”

“I’m not trying to place blame here.” He fisted his hands in frustration, then stuffed them in the pockets of his trousers. “I just want to know what’s bothering you so much.”

“It’s not pretty, and I’m not proud of what I did.” She thrust her head up and her chin tightened with determination. “But I’m tired of feeling like a fraud. You’ve been treating me like a queen, and I don’t deserve it . . . or your love.”

That was all he could take. He went to her and cradled her against his chest. “My love for you isn’t conditional, Flory. You don’t have to earn my love. It’s a gift. Just as God’s love doesn’t come with strings attached.”

Tears streamed down her face and made splotches on his shirt, the heat from them searing all the way to his heart.

“I really need to get this off my chest. The weight of it is too heavy.” She hiccuped and lifted her eyes toward his. “I haven’t wanted you to see the darkness in my own heart and soul.”

Her words really began to scare him.
Lord
,
I need You now more than I have ever before. Help me be what I need to be for Flory.

He led her to the two chairs sitting beside the window, with a lamp table between. After settling her into one, he pulled the other around to face her and dropped into it. Then he took her hands into his, drawing lazy circles on the backs with his thumbs. “Look at me, Flory. Nothing, and I mean absolutely nothing, can make me not love you. Do you understand?” He emphasized each word, giving it all the authority he could muster.

For a moment, she just stared at him, then nodded. “I didn’t understand that for a long time, but I believe it now . . . after the last couple of weeks.”

“I apologize for seeming to put business ahead of you.” He squeezed her hands. “It was never my intention.”

She heaved a sigh that sounded as if it came all the way from her toes. “Remember that time on the wagon train when we stopped because of Mrs. McKenna?”

“How could I forget? That’s when God gave us our daughter.” His voice broke on the last word, and he cleared his throat.

Florence tried to pull her hands from his, but he held on with a firm, but not painful grip.

“I had a hard heart toward God.”

He shook his head, and she noticed. “Let me finish while I still have the nerve. I was railing against God for not giving me a child. I felt like half a woman. Like Rachel when she cried out to God. I should have been able to give you a child, but God didn’t let me.” She took a deep breath. “I even asked Him why He would give her three and not give me any. I told Him one of those babies should be mine, because I didn’t have one.”

A sob punctuated her words and her shoulders shook. “When . . . she . . . died . . . ”

He stood and gathered her to him again, rubbing her back while she cried out the agony in her soul. When she finally quieted, he whispered, “Your words or thoughts did not cause Lenora McKenna to die. She wasn’t strong enough to deliver three babies and live. The doctor had warned them that she was growing very weak.”

“But I believed it was my fault.” A sobbing sound shook her. “My dark thoughts have haunted me for a long time, turning my heart bitter.”

He wished she’d shared this with him years ago. His heart ached for all the time she’d believed a lie. “You know, Flory, Satan told you that lie, and he kept you believing it.”

She nodded.

Joshua cradled her against his chest. “Flory, I want to pray for you.”

“I’d like that, Joshua.” Her words were muffled against his damp shirt, but he heard each one.

He led her back to the chairs they had vacated earlier. After they were seated, facing each other with their knees touching, he grasped her hands in his. For a long moment, he remained silent.

“Father God, I know how much You love me and how much You love my beloved wife, but Lord, she doesn’t understand how much You love her. Please wrap Your arms of love around her just the same way my arms have encircled her. Make Yourself real to her in her soul and her inner being. Show her how much You’ve watched over her and cared for her all of her life.”