Maggie's Journey (McKenna's Daughters) (26 page)

“I want to marry her as soon as possible. Tomorrow, if I could.” He couldn’t believe he blurted those words to her father. But his heart felt merry, like in the Bible, the kind of merry that was a good medicine.

“Well, now, I have to tell you. With Maggie being our only child, you’ll have to wait for the women to plan a wedding, and that’ll take some time. How much, I’m not sure. So if you want to marry her fairly soon, you’d better get her asked right away. That way, you won’t have to wait a year or two.”

A year or two?
He had no idea a wedding could take that long to plan. Charles knew he didn’t want to wait so long. “So does this mean I have your blessing to ask her?”

“Wholeheartedly! I know you’ll take good care of my little girl.”

The way Joshua said
my little girl
went straight to Charles’s heart. The man’s love for his daughter was the same kind of love he would have for his own children. He winced a little.
What am I doing thinking about children when I haven’t even told Maggie I love her, much less asked her to marry me?

•••

Since Charles was getting so much stronger, Maggie only got to see him when people were around. Her mother kept her busy with other things while she and Mrs. Jorgensen took care of his needs. But he came to the dinner table without anyone helping him the last two days, and the doctor left today just before dinner.

She dressed with care knowing she would be seeing Charles. Since winter was fast approaching, the temperatures had plummeted, making it harder to keep the house heated. She chose a navy wool skirt and jacket and wore them with a creamy silk blouse. Pin tucks lined with lace decorated the front. Since the neckline of the jacket dipped in a low scoop, it set off her figure to perfection. And Ingrid tried a new hairstyle that swept her hair high on her head and laced it with navy ribbon and white lace. Maggie felt regal in the ensemble.

As she swept down the staircase, Mother headed toward Daddy’s study. “Would you tell Charles that dinner will be a few more minutes? Have him come by the fireplace in the parlor, and you can wait with him.”

The smile on her mother’s face held a note of triumph. Maggie couldn’t imagine why.

Before she took more than two steps down the hallway toward the guest room, Charles emerged. Although he looked a little thinner than he did on their journey, dressed in a dark suit and white shirt with stiff collar and dark tie, he was extremely handsome. She stopped and took a deep breath before she relayed her mother’s message.

A dazzling smile lit his eyes. “I’ll follow you, Maggie.”

The words sounded almost like a caress. She knew her love for Charles was making her crazy since she ascribed that thought to his words.

Charles waited for her to choose a place to sit. She settled onto a wing-back chair and sat erect with her hands clasped in her lap as any lady of good breeding would. Too bad her emotions had made her unable to relax around him. He sat on the end of the settee that was very close to the chair.

“You look lovely tonight.” He hadn’t taken his eyes off her since they arrived in the parlor, and his soft words carried added meaning to her heart.

Maggie was glad she and Ingrid took extra care with her toilette. She lowered her gaze to her lap while warmth suffused her cheeks. “Thank you.”

The silence that followed rang with potentialities while Maggie tried to control her rampant emotions.

Finally, Maggie decided to break the silence. “So how are you doing?” She glanced up at his face.

“The doctor said I’m fine. I will return home tomorrow morning.” He looked plenty relaxed. “I hate to think what would have happened if your father hadn’t stopped by my house that day.”

The idea widened her eyes, and she couldn’t hold back a shudder. “I’m glad he did. No telling how long you would have lain there at the bottom of the stairs. You might not have recovered very quickly . . . if at all.” She could barely force the last three words out on a whisper.

He rested one hand on hers. “But he did stop by and I did recover. I believe God was watching over me.”

“Of course, He was.” Maggie’s ramrod stiff body relaxed a bit.

“I’ve been missing you, Maggie.” His smile matched the tone of his words. “Your reading the Scriptures to me was also instrumental in my recovery.”

“Since you’ve been up and around in the guest room, Mother didn’t think it was a good idea for me to come back.” She took a deep breath and averted her gaze from his. “You know the unmarried maiden and the single man thing.”

“Yes, I do.” She detected a smile in his voice. Then he leaned forward, even closer to her. “I want to ask you something.”

Her eyes quickly returned to his face. “What?”

Now he removed his hand and glanced away. “Remember that drawing you did of me?”

Maggie wasn’t sure what he was going to ask. She really didn’t want to discuss that picture. The sketch had been private, just for her. She wished he had never found it.

“Why did you draw a portrait of me?”

The words hung heavy in the space between them while she tried to decide how to answer without revealing too much to him. She didn’t want to destroy their friendship just because she wanted more from him.

She sighed. “I’m not really sure myself.” She hoped he wouldn’t want any more information from her. She tried to hold the gathering tears inside her eyes, but her lower lids weren’t adequate dams.

“Maggie, please look at me.”

She turned her eyes toward his face, hoping he wouldn’t notice moisture glistening in them. “All right.”

“I saw things in that portrait that indicated . . . ” Now he hesitated, took time before he continued. “Perhaps the artist not only knows me well, but also has . . . deep affection for me.”

Maggie’s eyes widened and she averted her gaze, feeling a blush once more bleed into her cheeks, but she didn’t say a word. How could she tell him what she felt for him when she had no idea if he returned the love? “Perhaps.”

She knew the word was soft, and he might not have heard it above the crackling of the fire if he wasn’t totally attuned to her. But she couldn’t have said it any louder if she had wanted to.

He picked up one of her hands and held it in both of his. “Maggie, I asked your father if I can court you.”

His words contrasted with hers in both strength and clarity. She welcomed every word and the emotions that fueled them.

Love rose like a tidal wave within her. Could he love her as she loved him? He wouldn’t ask to court her if he didn’t love her, would he?

“I’d like that very much.” She could barely get the words out. Her heart felt as if it might take flight. “But Charles, when did you . . . ” She stopped, not wanting to say the words.

“Start loving you?” He finished her sentence for her. His gaze made a leisurely journey across her face, leaving a path of warmth in its wake. “I think I always have loved you, since that first day you stepped into the schoolroom when you were six years old. I remember the way your curls wouldn’t allow your pigtails to tame them.”

That answer shocked her, and she raised her brows. “Really?”

He started to answer, but she noticed the very moment he realized to what she was referring. The smile drained from his face. “You were right there in front of me all the time, and I didn’t realize how my love for you was growing.” He gripped her hand even harder. “And I made a really stupid mistake on the train trip to Arkansas. I asked Georgia’s forgiveness, and we made peace with each other.”

Maggie nodded. His fingers relaxed, but he didn’t let go of her hand. Instead, he wove his fingers with hers into a more intimate clasp. The kind of clasp she’d dreamed of having.

“Only after we returned to Seattle did I let God reveal to me that I should be looking at who He placed in my life so long ago.”

She stared at their intertwined hands and knew she wanted her life to be intertwined with his forever.

The sunshine of his smile bathed her in the heat of his passion. “I hadn’t planned on telling you quite this way, but I’m glad I did. I feel like jumping up and whooping and hollering, but I can’t right now.”

“I’m glad too.” This time her words carried great conviction. “But Charles, there’s something else about me you should know.” She relayed the conversation she’d had with her parents the night they returned from Arkansas. The circumstances of her adoption. The struggles of her mother. And finally, the existence of her two sisters. Then she turned to him. “It’s important to me that I know who I am. And that you know who I am too. When I first revealed my adoption, you appeared . . . ”

“ . . . shocked? I have to admit, I was.” His eyes revealed the truth of that statement. “But not because you were adopted. I didn’t like that your parents hadn’t told you. Frankly, I worried that if your father had deceived you on this personal matter for so many years, he might also choose to deceive me in matters of business.”

The words struck her heart, and she stiffened. “But he is not like . . . ”

“I know,” he interrupted. “He explained everything to me and apologized too. And I’ve already experienced firsthand not only his respect for the business, but also his concern for my personal well-being.” He smiled. “I could almost be thankful for falling and hitting my head.”

“Me too,” Maggie blurted, then put her other fingers to her mouth for a moment. “I didn’t mean that. But I am glad to have you near me again.”

“Are you?” His voice softened. “Well, that really leaves me in a pickle.” Charles gently placed her hand in her lap and got up. He went to stand with his back to the fireplace and stared at her as he spoke. “I want nothing more than to sweep you into my arms and kiss you senseless, but I don’t have that right yet.”

She returned his intense look. As she imagined a kiss from his sculptured lips, a longing rose deep inside her. Her stomach began to flutter, and she placed her hand over it to calm it.

Maggie loved this man. When she was young, she’d often dreamed about marrying him, but that kind of infatuation was in vain. Now she’d come to know him deeply and had learned to respect his finer qualities. A man who truly trusted God. A man of honor who was willing to admit his faults and to correct them. A protector.

His hypnotic gaze held hers, and a communication so private it couldn’t be voiced passed between them, opening her heart to him in a greater way than ever before. This wonderful man could turn her insides out, and the results were exhilarating . . . and scary at the same time.

“Maggie, there’s more.” He held out his hand toward her.

Without hesitation, she arose and went to stand in front of him. He clasped her hands and held them against his chest. Her fingertips detected his heartbeat in perfect harmony with the strong pulsing of her own.

“What?” Now her words could be quieter, and her tears had disappeared.

He leaned his face so close to her that she felt his soft breath against her forehead. “He gave me permission to ask you to marry me. We have his blessing.”

Her eyes widened again, in joy and wonder this time. Everything was happening so fast. Faster than she’d ever imagined.

“So, will you marry me, Maggie?”

She turned her face even closer to his and stared into his eyes. “Yes.”

His lips touched hers as softly as a butterfly hovering over a flower, but his didn’t flit away. Instead they settled more firmly, connecting their hearts in a way she had never imagined was possible. Everything faded away except this moment with her beloved. Their kiss sealed their promise, and all the fears, all the worries, all the struggles of the past few months melted away.

Finally, Maggie knew who she was. Margaret Lenora Caine, adopted daughter of Joshua and Florence Caine. Natural daughter of Angus and Lenora McKenna. And beloved fiancé of Charles Stanton.

Her journey was complete. She was home.

Coming in May 2012

Mary’s Blessing

Chapter 1
Outside Oregon City

April 1885

Pa?” Mary Lenora Murray shouted back over her shoulder as she picked up the heavy picnic basket. “You ready to go?”
Why does he always drag his feet when we’re going to church?

Her father came into the kitchen from outside, letting the screen door slam shut behind him. He smelled of heat, hay, and sunshine, with the strong tang of muck from the barn mingled in. By the looks of his clothes, attending church was the farthest thing from his mind. His ratty trousers held smudges of several dark colors. She didn’t even want to guess what they were. And the long sleeves of his undershirt, the only thing covering his torso, were shoved above his elbows. Grayed and dingy, the shirt would never be white again, no matter how hard she tried to get it clean.

Mary bit her tongue to keep from scolding him as she did her younger brothers and sister when they made so much racket entering the house. No doubt he would give her some excuse about having too much work to gadabout with them, even to church. Not a big surprise. She’d heard it all before too many times.

He set a bucket of fresh water beside the dry sink and gripped his fingers around the front straps of his suspenders. He always did that when he was going to tell her something she didn’t want to hear.

“I’m not going today.” His stubborn tone held finality, as if he didn’t want her to talk back to him. But she was tempted to tell him what she thought about it.

This time he didn’t really make any excuses. Just this bald-faced comment.

She took a deep breath and let it out slowly, trying to calm her anger. She’d give him a sweet answer even if the words tasted bitter in her mouth. “The new pastor is coming today. We’re having dinner on the grounds after the service. Remember, I told you when we got home last Sunday.” She flashed what she hoped was a warm smile at him and prayed he couldn’t tell it was fake.

“What happened to the last one? He didn’t stay very long, did he?” Pa started washing his hands with the bar of homemade soap she kept in a dish on the shelf. “Don’t understand why that church can’t keep a pastor for very long. Someone musta run him off.”

Mary couldn’t keep from huffing out a breath this time. “I told you about that too.” She clamped her lips closed before she asked the question that often bounced around her mind.
Why don’t you ever listen to me?
She was close enough to an adult to be treated like one, and she’d carried the load of a woman in this household for seven years.

She was beginning to sound like a shrew. She’d laughed at Kate in Shakespeare’s play
The Taming of the Shrew
, but she didn’t want to be like the woman, so she made an effort to soften her tone before she spoke again. “His wife died, and his father-in-law begged him to bring the grandchildren closer to where they live, so he headed back to Ohio. He’d have a lot of help with the younger ones, living in the same community as their grandparents.”

Mary had never known her own grandparents, none of them. Not her mother’s parents. Not her father’s parents. Not the parents of whoever gave birth to her. She didn’t wonder about any of them very often, but today, her heart longed for someone who could really get to know her and love her for her individuality.

With bright red, curly hair and fair skin that freckled more every time she stepped into the sunlight, she didn’t resemble anyone in this family that adopted her. Since they were Black Irish, they all had dark hair and striking blue eyes, not like her murky green ones. And none of them had ever wanted to know what she thought about anything . . . except her mother. How long was it since her mother and older sisters died of diphtheria? She had to think back and count up.

Hundreds of people in and around Oregon City—including Dr. Forbes Barclay, their only physician at that time—died in an epidemic of the dreaded disease in 1873. However, her mother and sisters contracted the disease five years later when they went to help Aunt Miriam and Uncle Leland settle in their house on a farm about five miles from theirs. On the trip to Oregon, one of them had contracted the dread disease and didn’t know it until after they arrived. The people on that farm were the only ones that year who were sick with the horrible scourge.

No one knew they were all dead until Pa went looking for Ma, Cheryl, and Annette a couple of days later. He saw the quarantine sign someone nailed to a fencepost and didn’t go closer until he had help. When he came home, he told Mary she would have to take over the keeping of the house.
Seven long years ago
.

“Well, I’ve gotta lot to do today.” Her father reached for the towel she’d made out of feed sacks. “You and the others go ahead. I might come over that way at dinner time.”

No, you won’t
. Mary had heard that often enough to know he was trying to placate her so she would leave him alone. So she would.

“Frances, George, Bobby, come on. We don’t want to be late.” She shifted the handle of the loaded basket to her other arm. “Frances, you grab the jug of spring water. We might get thirsty.”

Her father’s icy blue eyes pierced her. “Might get pretty warm.”

“We’ll be picnicking in the field between the church and Willamette Falls. It’s cooler there, especially under the trees with the breeze blowing across the water.” She started toward the front door.

“Keep your eyes on the boys.” His harsh command followed her. “Don’t let either of them in the river. They could drown.”

She nodded but didn’t answer or look back at him. All he cared about were those boys and getting them raised old enough to really help with the farming. He already worked them harder than any of the neighbors did their sons who were the same ages.

When did my life become such a drudgery?
Had it ever been anything else? At least not since Ma died, which seemed like an eternity ago.

•••

Daniel Winthrop whistled while he dressed for church. He looked forward with anticipation to the moment when he would lay eyes on Mary Murray. Even her name sounded musical.

He’d been waiting and planning what to say when he approached her. Today he would start his subtle courting. With the situation at the Murray farm, he knew he would have his work cut out for him, to convince her she could start a life of her own with him. After he achieved that, he’d ask her father for her hand.

Visions of coming home to her each night and building a family together moved through his head like the slides of photographs in the Holmes Stereopticon they enjoyed at home. He loved her already, but more than that, he wanted to get her out of that house where she was loaded down with so much work and responsibility.

Daniel had often gone with his mother when she bought fresh produce from the Murrays. So he knew what her life had been since her mother died. Their families came to Oregon on the same wagon train, so he’d known her almost all his life. He was only a couple of years older than her.

Mary needed to be appreciated and cared for, and he was just the man to do it.

“Daniel, we’re leaving soon.” His father’s voice prodded him from his dreams.

With a final peek into the cheval glass, he straightened his necktie before he headed out the door of his room. “I’m on my way.”

He bounded down the stairs and took their picnic basket from his mother. “Something really smells good.” He gave a loud sniff. “Do you need me to test and make sure it’s all right?”

He welcomed her playful slap on his hand that crept toward the cover on the basket, and her laughter reminded him of the chimes he had heard in the larger church in Portland.

“Not a single bite until dinner.” Like a queen, she swept out the door Father held open for her.

Their familiar ritual warmed his heart. He looked forward to creating family rituals with Mary. Once more he whistled as he headed toward the brougham. Nothing could cloud his day.

When they pulled up to the Methodist Church, his father guided the team toward the back where a large area paved with fine gravel gave plenty of space for those who arrived in horse-drawn vehicles. While Father helped Mother down from the open carriage, Daniel took the reins and tied them to one of the hitching rails that outlined the space. He chose the rail under a spreading black cottonwood tree, so the horses would be in the shade while the family worshiped.

He scanned the lot, looking for the Murray wagon. Not there. Disappointed, he stared at the ground.
Please, God, let Mary come today.

Clopping hoofs and a jingling harness accompanied a wagon taking too fast of a turn into the parking area. Daniel cut his eyes toward the advancing disaster. Two of the wheels did indeed lift from the ground. Before he could get a shout out, he heard Mary’s sweet voice.

“Lean to the right, boys!”

George and Bobby, Mary’s brothers, scrambled across the seat, followed by Frances. The wagon wheels settled into the tiny rocks, and Mary pulled on the reins.

“Easy. Settle down.” Even though she spoke to the horses, he heard every word.

His heart that had almost leaped from his chest also settled down when he realized she was no longer in danger.
Thank You, Lord.

The wagon came to a standstill, and Mary put her dainty hand to her chest and released a deep breath. The dark green cotton fabric, sprigged with white flowers, looked good on her, setting off her red hair, pulled up into a bunch on the top of her head. Without a hat or bonnet covering it, the sun danced across the curls. He loved seeing the wisps around her face. That’s how he pictured her when he dreamed about their future.

Mary sat a moment without moving. She was probably scared out of her wits. Where was her father? He should have been driving the wagon, not her. How long had it been since the man had attended services? He couldn’t remember the last time. It was not a good thing for a man to neglect his spiritual nature. He’d just have to pray harder for Mr. Murray.

Daniel hurried toward them. “Hi, Mary.”

She looked up, straight into his eyes, fear still flickering in the back of her gaze. “Daniel. Good morning.” Her words came out riding on short breaths.

He took hold of the bridle of the horse nearest him. “I can hitch your team under the trees for you.”

After releasing another deep breath, Mary nodded. “Thank you. I’d like that.” She turned toward her siblings. “Frances, you get the picnic basket, and George, you carry the jug of water. Go find us a pew, perhaps near the back of the sanctuary, and put the things under the bench. I’ll be right in.”

The younger children climbed out of the wagon and followed their sister’s instructions. Mary watched them until they’d gone around the side of the building toward the front. Then she stood up.

Before she could try to climb over the side, Daniel hurried to help. He held out his hand to her. She stared at it, then looked at his face.

“I’ll help you down.” He gave her his most beguiling smile.

For the first time since she arrived, she smiled back, and pink bled up her neck into her cheeks. Her blush went straight to his heart.
Oh, yes, he loved this woman
. The twinkle in her green eyes emphasized the golden flecks. He’d actually never noticed them before. He wished he could continue to stare deep into her eyes forever.

Mary slipped her slim fingers into his hand. Even through the white cotton gloves, he felt the connection as warmth sparked up his arm like fireworks on the Fourth of July. She glanced down so she could see the step. When she hesitated, he let go of her hand and both of his spanned her tiny waist. With a deft swing, he had her on the ground in seconds. He wished he had the right to pull her into an embrace.
Wouldn’t that just set the tongues a-wagging?
He couldn’t do that to her. Mary needed to be cherished for the treasure she was. And as far as Daniel could see, her father really didn’t treat her that way.

He watched her walk toward the front of the building, enjoying the way her skirt swayed with each step, barely brushing the tops of her black patent shoes.
That is one beautiful woman.
He turned back to her team. Walking beside the horses, he led them toward the hitching rail where his family’s brougham stood. Her team would enjoy the shade just as much as his would. As he crossed the lot, several other conveyances entered, and he waved and exchanged greetings with each family. His chest expanded with all the happiness he felt this wonderful day.