“I'll go with Justin.” Rachel came to take the case from Margaret's hand.
“Please stay, Rachel.”
“But—”
“I'll explain later.” She put an arm around the older woman. “Good-bye, Justin. I'll call in a few days with further instructions.”
The gravel crunched when the car pulled away and shot off down the drive. Margaret smiled at Rachel for the first time. “I'm glad you're here. I've missed you.”
“I'll take that.” Chip took the case from her hand, and Margaret saw something like frustration flicker over his face. Her eyes were dark and grave. She wasn't feeling strong and capable now, but tired, vulnerable, and afraid. She needed him desperately to take her hand, but instead he simply said, “C'mon in.”
Inside the house another shock awaited her. Dolly and Penny stood waiting beside the door. Dolly's usually cheerful face was solemn, and her bright eyes zeroed in on Rachel, who stood hesitantly after entering.
“Hello, Rachel.”
“Hello, Dolly.”
At first Margaret's brain rejected what her ears were hearing, but then realization dawned. Rachel and Dolly knew each other! How could they? She looked from one to the other disbelievingly. If Dolly knew who Rachel was, then she must also know that Maggie Anderson was really Margaret Anthony. But Dolly was looking as baffled as Margaret felt.
“Dolly…” Margaret felt as if she had betrayed a friend, and her eyes flashed help signals to Chip.
“It was my idea for Maggie to come here incognito, Dolly,” he explained. “So don't blame her for not telling you who she was.” Chip had shrugged out of his jacket and was hanging it on a peg beside the door.
“Well,” seemed to be all Dolly could say. She wrapped her hands in the apron tied about her ample middle. “Well…we'll set another plate on the table. Supper's ready.”
“Rachel, Dolly…” Margaret's eyes went from one to the other. “I'm so confused!” She looked again to Chip for help, but he raised his shoulders in a noncommittal gesture.
“I knew Dolly a long time ago, Margaret,” Rachel said tiredly. “I lived here many years ago. I should have told you before.” She took off her fur cape and draped it over the back of the couch. “It's a relief to have it all out in the open.”
“My pot roast won't hold through the tellin' of life stories,” Dolly said with a trace of irritation. “Let's eat. I know Chip is hungry.”
“Can I sit by Maggie, Grandma?” Penny hung back, her large eyes on Margaret's face.
Margaret held out her arms, and the child ran to her. “Maybe if we both say
please
we can sit together,” she said in a loud whisper.
Both Margaret and Rachel offered to help Dolly clean up after the meal, but Dolly wouldn't hear of it.
“Penny will help me,” she announced, much to Penny's obvious disappointment.
In the living room Margaret stood silently looking at the two people she cared most about in the world. She went to Chip and put her arms around his waist.
“I'm staying here with Chip, Rachel. I love him. I think I've always loved him.” She laughed, but it was not a nervous laugh: it was a joyous, happy laugh. “Maybe not always, but for a long, long time.”
“I thought so. I'm very happy for you.” Her words were a direct contradiction to the expression on her face. She looked as if she were about to burst into tears.
“If you ladies will excuse me, I have things to do, and you two have a lot to discuss, I'm sure.” Chip gave Margaret a brief kiss.
“Don't leave,” she whispered.
“I wouldn't think of it,” he whispered back.
It seemed strange to Margaret to see Rachel in this comfortable but less than elegant room. Her white hair was carefully styled, her nails well-tended, and her clothes perfectly coordinated. She was dear and familiar, and Margaret loved her.
“I'm so glad you're here, Rachel. I've missed you.” Margaret sat close to her on the couch and took both her hands in hers. They were cold and trembly. “I never thought I'd be this happy. Something just seemed to happen between Chip and me, something rare and beautiful. Somehow I know that I was born to live here with him, be his wife, raise his children, grow old with him. But oh, Rachel…there are so many unanswered questions floating around in my mind. Not that the answers will make the slightest difference in the way I feel about this place or about Chip. But I've got to know, so I'll be able to cope with things later on.”
“Darling, you've changed in the weeks since Edward died. You're lovelier than ever. I could hardly believe it was you out there sending Justin on his way. The change in you has been a long time coming, but you've found yourself at last.”
“Why didn't you tell me that you'd lived here at one time? Why do people here dislike my father so much?” Margaret asked with unmasked concern.
Rachel took a shaky breath. “Your father and I met when he came out here to see about his interest in the company he'd bought into, sight unseen, after his old friend August Thorn came to Chicago looking for a partner to save the business.” Rachel glanced nervously at the doorway leading to the other part of the house. “We fell in love, Margaret. I want you to believe that.” She took her hands from Margaret's and held them tightly together in her lap. “I was married to a good man, but there was no excitement in our relationship. I have no excuse,” she admitted. “I married young, but I understood it was a lifetime commitment. Then I met Edward, and he set me on fire with wanting him. Although he wasn't terribly handsome and he was considerably older, I believe I would have followed him to the edge of the earth even if he'd been ragged and barefoot.”
She paused to catch her breath, but not long enough for Margaret to speak. “My husband was a hardworking, decent man, well-liked in the community. When I left him to go away with a rich man, naturally he had everyone's sympathy. Edward was the villain and I the…harlot. Edward didn't care in the least what people thought, but he did care and was very angry when I refused to marry him. Although I resumed using my maiden name—Riley—I never did divorce MacMadden.”
“Tom?” Margaret said in a voice that trembled with her surprise. “Tom MacMadden?”
“Yes. Tom is my husband.” Rachel's hands reached out to grasp Margaret's with sudden desperation.
“Why wasn't I told any of this?”
“You were Edward's life, an extension of himself, and were to be protected from all unpleasantness at any cost.” The first tiny hint of resentment whispered through her words.
“That wouldn't have made me love you or Daddy any less.”
“Tell her the rest, Rachel,” Chip commanded from the doorway, having silently returned.
With a quick glance Margaret took in his cool expression. He walked into the room and stood with his back to the fire. She took several quick deep breaths to control the shimmer of fear that flashed through her.
“You knew Rachel when she lived here, didn't you?”
“I was just a kid when she left. Tom's been like a second father to me. Naturally I knew about Rachel and Ed Anthony and…you.”
“Please, Chip!” Rachel's voice raised to a nervous pitch.
“Tell her, or I will! She's not a child. She's a grown woman, in spite of the fact that you and Ed tried to keep her a child.” The hardness of his tone and the straight, steady look in his eyes as he watched Rachel caused Margaret's fear to escalate into near panic.
“Well…” Against her sudden pallor, Rachel's eyes looked dark with despair. “Tom wasn't able to have children, and when I discovered I was pregnant, I knew it was Edward's.” Her head was bowed so low her chin almost touched her chest, and the hands in her lap twisted and clung. She looked up suddenly, her eyes swimming with tears. “I wanted to tell you so badly. I begged Edward to let me tell you, but he didn't want a breath of scandal to touch you. So he put out the story that your mother had died in childbirth.” Her voice was unsteady, anguished.
Margaret's shocked gasp was trapped by the large constriction in her throat. She sat absolutely still, feeling the color drain from her face. Dazed, she stared at Rachel's crumbling features during the deadly silence that followed her words. Her breath came back, and she gave a hysterical little laugh.
“Rachel? Are you saying that you're my mother?” She heard the words as if they came from someone else's mouth.
Rachel had squeezed her eyes tightly shut while the tears rolled down her cheeks. Impatiently, Margaret's hands grasped her arms and shook her.
“Are you my mother?…You're my mother!” she said incredulously. Relief fluttered through her, and she felt as if a ton of bricks had been removed from her chest. “But, that's wonderful! I've always loved you. You're my mother!” She threw her arms about the sobbing woman, and her glasses fell away unnoticed. “Don't cry, darling. You can't know how happy I am. I used to dream that you were my mother, and I longed to call you Mom. Now I can! I just don't understand why this wonderful news was kept from me.”
Chip placed a clean handkerchief in Margaret's hand, and she used it to wipe Rachel's tears.
“You were legally Tom's daughter,” Chip said quietly. “Tom had to sign papers allowing Ed to adopt you, even though you were Ed's biological daughter. That's how I knew Rachel was your mother.”
“But…” Margaret tried unsuccessfully to keep her lips from trembling. “I should have been allowed to know my mother while I was growing up. I always thought she was some stranger in a picture. It would have meant so much to me to know I had two parents who loved me. Not that I didn't feel close to you, Rachel…Mother…but there was always that fear in the back of my mind, that you worked for Daddy, and that you might move on like some of the other employees. It wasn't fair,” she protested.
“No. It wasn't fair to either of us. I realized it then just as I realize it now.” Rachel made a helpless gesture with her hands. “It was all my doing.” Tearing her gaze away from her daughter, she twisted her hands in her lap. “Adultery is a sin. I didn't want to compound it by divorcing my husband and marrying my lover. I think now that Edward was punishing me for not divorcing Tom and marrying him by refusing to let me acknowledge you as my child. And Tom, who could have petitioned for a divorce on grounds of desertion, was probably punishing me for leaving him.” Tears spilled and slid slowly down her face, and she continued in a strangled voice. “My daughter was caught in the middle.”
“Not anymore, Mother. I love saying it! Mother, Mother!” Margaret's eyes were moist. She reached up to grasp Chip's hand. “So many good things have happened to me, I don't know if I can handle them all.”
“Sure you can, princess. You're doing just fine.”
Rachel's eyes moved from Margaret's face to Chip's. When she slowly extended her hand, he reached out and enclosed it in his.
“She hasn't experienced life as we know it, Chip.”
“I know that, Rachel. But she's learning…fast.” His voice was gentle, and their eyes met and held. “Don't worry about her. She's made of pretty strong stuff.”
Rachel's eyes filled up again as she gazed back at Margaret. “I worried so about you, darling.” She brought Margaret's hand to her face and held it to her cheek. “I didn't want you to spend your life in that cold stone house married to a man you didn't love. I wanted you to be young—and free to love.” She placed Margaret's hand in Chip's. “Don't hurt her, Chip. Keep her happy.”
She stood. “If you'll excuse me, I think I should go to bed. I can't remember ever being this tired.” She smiled, and age lines fell from her face. “It's tiring for a woman my age to find a daughter and lose her all in the course of a few hours.”
“You haven't lost me. You'll never lose me,” Margaret said sincerely. “Come. You can use Chip's room, and he'll sleep out here on the couch. Tomorrow he'll take us upriver and show us where he really lives—when he's not trying to discourage city girls from moving to Montana.” Margaret turned her face up to Chip's and took her time studying the loving expression she saw there. Rising on her toes, she kissed his mouth and felt the evening's tension melt away. “Isn't that right, darling?”
“I guess so, sweetheart,” he said with a deep chuckle. His eyes smiled into hers.
T
HE SILENCE WAS
utter and complete except for the rustle of the birds roosting in the treetops for the night and the gentle crackling of the burning branches in the campfire inside the circle of stones. Margaret sat on the sleeping bag with her legs drawn up, her arms about them, her chin resting on her knees.
For the past three Octobers she and Chip had made a pilgrimage to this place where they had first declared their love. It was their special place, and they always approached it with reverence. The sapling Chip had rested his back against had grown so that Margaret could no longer circle it with her two hands, and there wasn't a trace left of the fire that had brought them here in the first place.
A smile played around the corner of her mouth as Chip came out of the woods with an armful of small dead branches for the fire. He was her everything: husband, lover, advisor, friend. She loved him with such fierce intensity that it sometimes puzzled her.
“Cold, princess?” His voice drifted to her on the crisp breeze.
She loved it when he called her his princess.
Later, he wrapped her in his arms, stretching his long legs out on either side of hers, and resting his back against the tree. His hands found their way beneath her sweater and cupped her breasts.
“The baby filled them out some. I wonder what another will do.” He slid his lips along her cheek and up to her temple, where they paused, and the tip of his tongue made a foray into her ear.
“You've been watching that country singer again,” she accused, turning in his arms so she could wrap hers about him. “Are we going to tell Duncan he was conceived here that night?”
“Maybe when he's older. Right now all he's interested in is conning Grandma Rachel into letting him stay up past his bedtime. Each time she comes, so I can have you all to myself for a while, she spoils him more.”
“Chip, darling, so much has happened in the last few years. Just think: we have Duncan, Beth is in college, and Dolly married a company man and lives in the company house. Penny's mother gave up her rights to Penny, so we don't have to worry about losing her. She spends almost as much time with us as she does with Dolly. How come things have worked out so wonderfully for me?” She placed a string of little kisses along his jaw, and her hands burrowed beneath his sweater. “Even the men like me. If you ever tell them it wasn't in Daddy's will that they became partners in the mill, I'll…sock you in the nose!”