Maggie's Journey (McKenna's Daughters) (22 page)

They hurried back toward their car. When they came through the door, they stomped the snow from their shoes. Charles looked up and found the seats were over half full. And everyone was huddled under blankets either alone or with their traveling companions. After coming in from the cold outside, the car felt almost warm to him.

“We should find Georgia.” Maggie’s eyes searched up and down the car. “She might be worried about us.”

They arrived at the seats where they’d been sitting, and Georgia was nowhere to be found. He turned to the lady in the seat across the aisle.

“Have you seen the woman who was sitting here?” He hoped so. He didn’t want to think about having to go back outside to look for her.

“She went back that way.” The stranger pointed toward the tiny room at the back.

He glanced down at Maggie. “I think she’ll return soon.”

•••

When Georgia came back from the necessary room, Maggie sat in their usual seat with her sketch pad and charcoal in her hands. She glanced up at her aunt. “I hope you didn’t worry about Charles and me.”

“The conductor told me you had gotten off the car to go see the ice flow.” She sat down beside Maggie and glanced over at her drawing. “Is that what it looked like?”

“Sort of.” Maggie continued to add details to the building, platform, and water tank with ice flowing from it.

“May I see it?” Charles leaned forward in the seat that faced them.

Maggie handed him her pad.

“This is really good.” He knew Maggie could design dresses, but he hadn’t realized just how talented she was at sketching other things. “That’s exactly how it looked. You even got the correct angles and shadows. I’m impressed.”

His words brought a warm feeling to Maggie’s heart. It felt good to impress someone, and not just anyone, but the man who had been important in much of her life.

Just then the door at the end of the car opened. Two men hurried inside carrying a large metal coffeepot and a number of mugs with a rope strung through their handles. They stopped beside the first people they came to and gave each of them a mug, then filled it with coffee. Slowly, the two men made their way down the car.

When they reached the seats where Charles, Georgia, and she sat, Maggie welcomed the warmth of the too-bitter brew. Grounds swam in the depth of her white ceramic mug, but nothing would keep her from taking in its comforting warmth.

The men continued on down the car. By the time they reached the end, two more men entered the front door. This time they carried a pot so large that it took both of them to haul it in. All the coffee was gone from the large mug when they stopped beside the seat Maggie shared with Georgia. The men used a metal dipper to fill the mugs with steaming stew.

“We’re sorry this is all we got to feed you, but we might have enough to give everyone seconds.” The men smiled and kidded each other about spilling some on the floor while they made their way on down the aisle.

Maggie felt very unladylike drinking stew from a large mug, but it not only warmed her insides even more than the coffee, the plain fare tasted wonderful for breakfast. She would have never considered eating something like this for her first meal of the day in Seattle. This journey was broadening her horizons and perceptions in so many unexpected ways.

The men came back up the aisle and made one more pass-through with stew. Not a single person turned down seconds of the delicious, nourishing soup. The railcar felt warmer, and the passengers happier, when they left. After everyone finished eating, the conductor came through with a burlap bag, gathering all the mugs. As he went out the door, Maggie was glad it was him and not her going into the winter weather. She had all the snow and cold she wanted today.

Georgia picked up Maggie’s sketch pad. “May I look at the other drawings you made on the trip?”

“Of course.” Maggie felt warm and full, which made her a little sleepy. She took out her large pillow and placed it between her and the window, so she wouldn’t feel the cold. Her eyes drifted shut.

In her semi-sleep phase, Maggie was aware of Georgia turning the pages. She murmured phrases like
I like this
and
This is really good
, but Maggie didn’t want to wake up completely.

Finally, Georgia exclaimed, “This is wonderful.”

Since it was louder than anything else she’d said, it jarred Maggie into full awareness. She wondered which picture Georgia was looking at. As she opened her eyes, she heard a swiftly indrawn breath. Charles stood behind Georgia, gazing at the drawing as well.

Then his eyes sought hers. “Is that how you see me, Maggie?”

His question startled her, and she had a hard time pulling away from his gaze.
Oh
,
no.
She’d forgotten about the one sketch of Charles that she didn’t want anyone else to see. She wanted to grab the sketch pad and slam it shut, but it was too late. What if he hated what he saw?

“Yes.” She held out her hands, and Georgia placed the open pad there.

Maggie hadn’t looked at it since she finished working on it. Charles’s smiling face looked up at her almost as if it were alive. She half expected it to speak to her.

“I believe you’ve captured his real personality.” Georgia stared at her. “I didn’t know you were doing portraiture.”

“I haven’t been.” Maggie felt a lump forming in her throat. “Only this one that is full face. I did incorporate people in some of the sketches of the towns we’ve traveled through.”

Charles sat down across from Maggie. “Thank you. I’ve never seen anything quite so good. This is the face that gazes back at me from the mirror every morning. The depiction looks like it was drawn by someone who really knows me.”

And loves you.
But Maggie could never speak these words aloud. At least not unless she knew that he loved her . . . exactly as she was, unknown parents, adoptive parents, and all.

Chapter 22

Maggie watched Seattle slowly appear in the far distance, wishing she were a little girl again. She’d press her nose against the window and stare wide-eyed at each familiar landmark. She spotted the Territorial University—where Charles graduated—near the highest point in the city, then the tips of the gables on his home on Washington Street at Thirty-Second Avenue, and finally the roof of their mansion on Beacon Hill. Although the city had spread across a large area, it had a much less refined look to it than Little Rock had. But Seattle was home. And Maggie was glad to finally have all the travel behind her.

Before the train reached the station, it had to stop and wait for a log train to pass. Finally, they approached the platform. Up ahead, she noticed a small group clustered near the tracks. Soon she recognized her mother and father off to the side, watching as eagerly as the others. Her father had his arm around her mother’s waist, and she leaned against him. Maggie hadn’t seen them like this at home. And never out in public.

A memory flitted through her mind of a time before they moved to Seattle. Her parents cuddled her between them, and they stood as close as they were today. She had felt safe and loved in the protective cocoon they’d formed. But she couldn’t recall anything like this in a long time. Daddy and Mother even looked younger somehow. Maybe they had enjoyed her being away from them. The new thought brought an ache to her throat.
Maybe I am the intruder who wrecked everything.

The chugging of the powerful engine gradually slowed. Hissing steam joined the cacophony of metal against metal. She glanced at Charles and found him studying her.

“Are you all right?”

Maggie nodded. “Yes. I’m glad the journey is over.”

As soon as the train came to a complete stop, Charles reached for their carpetbags. He tucked one under his arm and grabbed one in each hand. “I’ll get these, ladies. You can take care of your handbags.”

He led the way to the back door of the railcar. After exiting, he set the luggage on the platform and offered to help Maggie down.

“Thank you.” She slipped her hand in his.

As with each time they’d touched in any way on the trip, heat radiated up her arm and sent sparks toward her heart. Too bad he only saw her as almost a younger sister. If only he’d notice that she was really a woman.

When her feet were firmly planted on the platform, he leaned toward her and whispered, “Just relax. We’re with you.”

He offered assistance to Georgia, and Maggie peered down the platform. Her mother hurried toward her, followed by her father. Both threw their arms around her at the same time. She ended up in one of those cocooned type of embraces she’d remembered earlier on the train. Despite her fears, she reveled in the warmth, the feeling of homecoming.

“Darling.” Her mother’s tone was soft and sweet. “I’ve missed you so much.”

The hug tightened, and tears filled Maggie’s eyes. “I missed you too.”

When they stepped back, tears streamed down her mother’s cheeks. Daddy took his white handkerchief, shook out the folds, and gently dabbed the moisture from her mother’s face before turning to do the same for Maggie. His eyes appeared misty as well.

“How was—?”

“You’re—”

“I’m so—”

They all started speaking, then stopped at the same time. Maggie took a deep breath.

With a flip of his hand, her father deferred to Mother. “You go ahead, Florence.”

“How was the trip?” Her mother stayed beside her.

“Long . . . at least the train ride was.” Maggie sensed that Charles had moved behind her. She glanced over her shoulder to see both him and Georgia. “But the two weeks in Arkansas seemed much shorter. We had such a good time with Grandmother.”

How could she think straight with Charles so close to her that she felt the heat radiating from his body, even with the cold wind blowing over Puget Sound?

“How is my mother?” More tears leaked from Florence’s eyes, but she caught them with the handkerchief. “Tell me everything. I’ve missed her so.”

“She’s a very busy and a lovely woman. I enjoyed getting to know her.”

Daddy squinted in the bright sunlight as he turned his attention toward Charles. “Should I help with the trunks?”

Charles peered toward the baggage car. “I believe Morris and your man Erik have everything under control.”

Maggie detected a note of coldness in his voice. Was the news of her adoption still coloring his view of her father? What if the two men weren’t able to work together anymore? Maggie shook her head. Her father didn’t need this added tension when she was planning to confront her parents about her past.

As the group headed toward the area where the coaches were parked, her mother walked beside Charles. “I know you’re probably anxious to get home, Mr. Stanton, but maybe you could join us for dinner tonight. That way all three of you can share the details of your trip with Joshua and me.”

Charles bowed stiffly. “Mrs. Caine, I would be honored to join you. What time will dinner be served?” He glanced at Joshua. “I would like to hear more about the business as well.”

His tone was formal, almost businesslike. But her parents didn’t seem to notice. Her mother picked up her brooch watch and squinted at it. “It’s only three o’clock. Can you be there by six thirty or seven?”

“Six thirty will be fine.” After assisting Florence up into the Caine’s coach, Charles strode toward his own conveyance, his hands thrust deep into his pockets. Maggie watched him leave with sadness. For weeks she’d rarely been more than a few minutes from his presence. Already she missed him.

Daddy made sure Georgia was comfortable sitting beside her mother, then he helped Maggie into the coach and slid into the seat beside her.

Everything felt so familiar, ordinary, but the flutter in her stomach warned Maggie that everything was somehow different as well.

Maggie watched both her parents on the way home. Something had changed, but she couldn’t decide what it was. Even the atmosphere in the coach was a far cry from anything she’d ever experienced in the vehicle. She tried to keep up with the conversations, but all the time she puzzled over this new situation. She hoped she would soon find out what was going on between them. Mother even had a glow about her that Maggie couldn’t remember seeing before.

When Erik stopped the coach in front of the house, her mother walked to the door beside Maggie. “I’ve had Ingrid and Mrs. Jorgensen preparing a hot bath for you. I’m sure you’ll feel better after you’ve had a nice long soak.”

Florence was right. Nothing sounded better than to be truly clean again. She just hoped she wouldn’t fall asleep in the bathtub.

After her bath and a bit of a nap, Maggie dressed carefully in a green wool shirtwaist with a froth of ecru lace forming a jabot and lining the cuffs. After five weeks wearing the same few outfits, it felt like a huge luxury to wear something different. She started downstairs, but stopped halfway when Charles came out of her father’s study. His gaze caught hers, and he stopped, his eyes wide. A look akin to appreciation filled his face. She took a deep breath, telling herself to remember that they were just friends.

When he held out his arm, she finished descending and slipped her hand through the crook he offered. She hoped he couldn’t feel the trembling that had attacked her, and she was grateful to have something to cling to as they headed toward the dining room behind her father.

Charles helped Maggie into the chair beside him. She would face Georgia. The long banquet table was draped with a white linen tablecloth, but the only place settings clustered at the one end. Several tall, silver candelabra bathed the room with light that sparkled off the china, silverware, and crystal glassware.

Daddy cleared his throat. “I’ll return thanks for our blessings and our food.”

Everyone bowed their heads, and Maggie peeked up through her eyelashes. She followed her father’s words by repeating them in her head, adding her own
Amen
to his prayer.

Conversation through the five-course meal danced around the table with Charles, Maggie, and Georgia giving all the highlights of the trip. Maggie watched both her parents as they hung on to every word—all the descriptions, the places they visited, the vast amount of country they traveled through on the train, even how Grandmother helped her learn about the designing business.

Both her parents listened and inserted questions and comments, but not one note of censure. Her mother looked carefree and . . . happy. Maggie couldn’t remember the last time she’d seen her that way. She wondered what miracle had brought about this change.

Charles turned to her father. “Enough about us. I would love you to fill me in on what’s been happening with the business while I’ve been gone.” His eyes seemed to narrow somewhat as he gazed at her father.

“Everything’s fine.” Joshua waved a hand. “I have a lot to show you tomorrow. Those weeks gave us plenty of time to complete the remodeling. I think you’re going to like it. The store, and the offices, look amazing.”

“I look forward to seeing it.” He smiled, but the smile didn’t quite reach his eyes.

Joshua leaned forward, his eyes sparkling. “I think we should have some sort of grand opening celebration to introduce people to the improved store. Actually, Florence came up with the idea. Women like that sort of thing.” A broad smile spread across Joshua’s face. “And she likes to plan events, so we probably can leave it mostly up to her, which will suit me just fine.”

“If you don’t mind, I would like to view the renovations first before making any decisions.”

This time the note of seriousness in his voice didn’t escape her father. Joshua shot a glance of concern at Charles, but recovered smoothly. “Of course, of course. You have a lot to catch up on before we move ahead with future plans.”

Charles gave a nod and turned the conversation to other topics.

After dinner Charles excused himself, begging fatigue from the journey, and left for his home. Maggie and her family retired to the parlor for coffee.

Other than the moment of unpleasantness between Charles and her father, the dinner had been so pleasant, the atmosphere so congenial, that Maggie almost decided not to bring up what was weighing on her mind. But as they settled into their seats, with Maggie beside her mother on the divan, she stiffened her spine and plunged ahead.

“Mother, Daddy, I really need to ask you some questions.” She clasped her hands so tightly in her lap that her knuckles ached.

A hint of fear crossed Florence’s face, but she quickly smoothed it away. Her face serious, she took Maggie’s hand. “I think I know what this is about.”

She knows?
Her mind raced. Florence must have discovered that the white chest was missing. But if she knew Maggie had uncovered the secret of the adoption, why had she appeared so happy and at peace?

With the time for the confrontation arriving, Maggie wasn’t sure she was ready. She took a deep breath and found herself unable to talk.

Florence squeezed her hand gently. “Maggie, I know what you want to say. I know you found the white chest, so you don’t have to tell me about that.”

Maggie studied her mother’s face. She could discern nothing in her expression except concern for her. And she didn’t miss the fact that for the first time, her mother had called her Maggie. Something really had changed her.

“All right. My questions are about my being adopted.” Maggie stared at her parents to see their reaction, but they still looked calm. “I had no idea. Why did you keep the information from me?” She tried to keep her tone from sounding accusatory but didn’t think she was successful.

She had already dealt with the pain. Now she just had to be strong to face whatever was coming.

Her father started to say something, but her mother patted his knee. “It’s fine, Joshua. I can tell her.”

As the story of the night of her birth poured from her mother’s lips and heart, tears streamed down her mother’s face. Soon Maggie’s tears joined hers. What a relief to know that the woman who gave birth to her hadn’t just abandoned her, hadn’t simply given her away.

Georgia left the room and returned with several hankies, passing one to each of the women.

When her mother described the way she’d felt at the time, how she had questioned God and wished for one of the babies, she didn’t make any excuse. She admitted her sinful thoughts and how they had become deeply rooted in her heart, keeping her from being the kind of mother Maggie needed. As Florence continued to call her
Maggie
, instead of her usual
Margaret
, she felt a bonding that she hadn’t remembered ever feeling. Her mother even admitted to pushing Daddy to move away from the place where everyone knew Maggie was adopted, because she didn’t want any reminders that she was barren.