Sister's Choice (2 page)

Mama tore a strip from a clean rag and handed it to Maggie. “Wrap this around it.” Mama looked closely at her. “What is it, Maggie?” she said more gently.

Maggie sniffed. “Nothing.”

“You’ve been out of sorts all day. What’s troubling you?”

“It’s just what I said.” Maggie’s voice trembled over the words, but she just couldn’t keep her feelings in any longer. “I’m not good at anything. I’m a lump of plain nothingness.”

Mama took Maggie’s injured hand and examined the cut finger. It was still bleeding a little. She wrapped the piece of cloth around it. “Surely you can’t believe that,” Mama said.

“I dare you to name one thing I can do.”

“Well, you are good at arguing.”

Maggie grimaced at that.

Mama smiled. “You are young, dear. You will find your niche in life, I promise.” She put her arm around Maggie. “You said you are a lump—well, that doesn’t have to be a bad thing, you know. It’s like the lump of dough that made this bread. It starts out as not much, but before you know it, it turns into this wonderful bread.”

“I can’t even make bread,” Maggie groused.

“You know what I mean, though, don’t you? You are a late bloomer, Maggie, but you will bloom. I believe it with all my heart. You will bloom into a beautiful flower.”

“I’m eighteen, Mama. That’s kind of old to be a bud.” Maggie dashed a hand across her eyes to wipe the tears still dripping. Mama took a handkerchief from her apron pocket and gave it to Maggie.

Maggie wiped her eyes and blew her nose. Mama was about to say more when Ellie called from outside.

“Mrs. Donnelly and Mrs. Renolds are here!”

Mama hesitated, clearly torn between her duties as hostess and her need to comfort her daughter.

“Go on, Mama,” Maggie said. “I’ll be okay.”

“We’ll talk more later, all right?”

Maggie nodded. Mama went outside, and Maggie returned her attention to the task at hand. She tried hard not to think glum thoughts for the rest of the day, but that proved almost impossible because every little thing seemed to conspire against her efforts.

Right off she was reminded of another reason for her melancholy when she glanced out the kitchen window and saw Mrs. Donnelly. Immediately she thought of the woman’s son, poor Tommy Donnelly, languishing away in the St. Helens jail. He was never far from her thoughts, not only because he was her friend but also because she held a secret that could, if revealed, probably get him convicted of murder. A few weeks ago Tommy’s father had been found dead. Tommy had eventually confessed to shooting his cruel, good-for-nothing father. He’d said it was because he had feared for his own life, but shortly before the shooting Tommy had made remarks to Maggie that could be construed as threats against his father’s life. Zack had advised Maggie to keep quiet about these matters unless the sheriff asked her point-blank. So far, no one had given her a second thought, but if there was a trial, she could be called, Zack had said, as a character witness. Then she would most likely have to reveal her secret.

And that wasn’t all. Maggie had not gone once to visit Tommy in jail. She felt terrible about it. She knew she was about his only friend. Some friend! She was a coward, afraid if she got in the same room with the sheriff, she would panic and blurt out everything. She’d been avoiding Mrs. Donnelly, as well, for weeks, not an easy thing, since she was Mama’s best friend.

Maggie finished cutting the bread and went outside to join the quilters. Just then Florence Parker arrived with her usual grand flourish, this time all excited about a letter just received from her son, Evan, saying he would be coming home soon for an extended visit. He was away in Boston, attending Harvard University. But Maggie was far more interested in another bit of news. Emma Jean Stoddard mentioned they would be having a houseguest, as well, a young woman from Portland. She and Sarah Stoddard had become friends in finishing school. Mrs. Stoddard said her name was Tamara Brennan, daughter of Dr. and Mrs. Curtis Brennan, who apparently were hoity-toity Portlanders.

Upon hearing the Brennan name, Mrs. Parker gasped. “Well, it is a small world, isn’t it? Evan attended Harvard with the Brennans’ son. We met them in Boston last spring when we attended Evan’s graduation.”

Maggie was dying to know what this girl Tamara was like. Colby Stoddard was, after all, still a very eligible bachelor, and now that Ellie was taken, Maggie had been thinking she might finally have a chance with the handsome young man. She hated to think that new competition was going to be close by.

Mama was speaking to Mrs. Parker. “I thought you said Evan was going to work for a big law office in Boston.”

“He’s had offers from several
very
prestigious firms back East,” Mrs. Parker replied. “But he misses his family, you know. I am sure he will be able to take up any of those offers when he is ready. He was fifth in his class at Harvard and is much sought after.”

Maggie had heard Mrs. Parker brag about that fact several times since the graduation, and she thought she saw her mother roll her eyes just now. Well, Mrs. Parker and Mama were not the best of friends. They were brought together only through the Sewing Circle. Otherwise they probably wouldn’t give each other the time of day.

By noon two quilts were finished. Everyone was having a grand time chatting and exchanging gossip. Maggie had managed to avoid quilting all morning. She helped with the basting of some of the other quilts but was even criticized for that.

Mrs. Stoddard came up, turned over the section Maggie was working on, and said, “Dear, you didn’t catch the backing in your stitches. You will have to re-do that.”

“Yes, Mrs. Stoddard. Sorry,” Maggie said contritely through gritted teeth. She couldn’t antagonize Colby’s mother if she hoped to have any chance at all with him.

After lunch, however, Maggie was railroaded into a seat at one of the quilt frames. She knew how much Ellie wanted her to participate, so she tried to do the task with good grace. It was just her luck that Mrs. Stoddard took the seat right next to her, and Mabel Parker sat down across from her. Someone to criticize her
and
someone to compare her work to. Mabel, along with Ellie and Sarah, were the best young stitchers in Maintown. Nevertheless, Maggie worked doggedly on her section, which happened to be a fairly intricate feather design with some cross-hatching. Every now and then she could feel Mrs. Stoddard’s incisive eye upon her, and that was usually when she would prick her finger or bungle in some other way. Though she did her best, most careful work, her stitches were uneven.

After about a half hour Maggie was ready to scream with restlessness and boredom. She decided she had done enough to satisfy Ellie. Nonchalantly she rose and stretched.

“I need to take a little break,” she announced to no one in particular.

“We have barely gotten started,” Mabel said.

True, the women would go far longer, taking brief moments to stretch and flex their hands. “Well, nature calls, you know,” Maggie said with a nervous chuckle.

Mrs. Stoddard’s eye arched at Maggie’s indelicate words.

Maggie hurried away toward the outhouse. She didn’t really have to use it, but she couldn’t bear to sit quilting another moment. She had to get away, if only for a few minutes. After visiting the outhouse she started back toward the quilt frames but with an ambivalent step. Then she stopped dead in her tracks. From where she stood, she could see that Mrs. Stoddard had scooted into the chair Maggie had occupied, and she was taking out Maggie’s stitches!

Why weren’t Mama or Ellie stopping her? And though she could tell both of them were occupied elsewhere and unable to see what was happening, Maggie knew they would be happy someone was repairing her rotten work. Tears sprang to her eyes.

She hated to cry, and she hated herself for it and the weakness it indicated. But she couldn’t help herself. She’d tried so hard to do her best work. And to have Mrs. Stoddard be the one to note and fix her work was the worst kind of insult. At least no one had seen her return from the privy, so she spun around and quickly headed to the barn. She wished she could have instead gone to the house and locked herself in her room with a book, but to do so she’d have to walk right by the women. There’d be little to do in the barn, but it was her only safe retreat.

She spent the rest of the afternoon there, alternately crying and fuming over the fact that no one came looking for her. They hadn’t even noticed she was gone!

She brushed down the horses and doled out hay. Several of the guests’ horses were housed in the barn, so fussing over them kept her busy and helped divert some of her dismay. The horses also presented amiable sounding boards for the venting of her ire.

“The nerve of that woman ripping out my work!” she told the family saddle horse, Buster. “Without even asking me! I hate that woman!” she declared, then suddenly realized the full implication of her words. If she wanted Colby, he came with a mother. If she won Colby, that woman would be her mother-in-law! Maggie groaned.

“Buster, be thankful you are a horse. It simply stinks to be a girl thinking about marriage. But the hard fact is, I’ll have to go through
her
to get to Colby. He’s not really a mama’s boy, but everyone in his mama’s life is under her thumb. He may try to fight it, but that is still the cold, hard fact.”

Maggie plopped down on a mound of hay. “Oh, what’s the use! I think I’ll just be an old maid like Iris Fergus. Maybe I’ll go to the big city and work in an office.” She had visited an office in Portland once with her father and had been impressed by the female secretaries in their starched, white, high-collared blouses and trim dark skirts, sitting with refined postures at their desks and primly typing. Maybe that’s what she would be good at, typing on those fascinating machines. How quickly those ladies’ fingers flew over the keys, just like—Maggie grimaced—just like the quilters’ fingers flew in their stitching.

Okay, so that might not be for her. She couldn’t stand wearing a starched white blouse, either. Though it scandalized her mother, Maggie usually wore her brother’s overalls, except for church and other special occasions. She was wearing them now, having slipped past her mother’s scrutiny.

There had to be something out there to give meaning to Maggie’s life. Mama promised!

Only when Maggie began to hear male voices outside did she realize just how long she had been hiding in the barn. It must be close to suppertime if the men were beginning to arrive. Glancing up at the loft opening, she saw the afternoon sunlight had dimmed, and it was pushing on toward evening. Now someone would come looking for her because they would need help getting supper on. That’s all she was good for—slave labor.

TWO

“There you are, Maggie!” Mama exclaimed the moment Maggie came into view. “It’s time for supper.”

Maggie looked around. The quilt frames had been taken down, replaced by tables—well, actually boards set over sawhorses. They were covered with tablecloths and lined with benches Mama had borrowed from the school. The ladies had been joined by several men. There were at least thirty folks in the yard now. The men were standing in knots talking to one another. No doubt they had done the heavy work of removing the quilt frames and setting up the tables. The women were busy carrying out food and dishes and all that was needed for supper. No wonder no one had looked for Maggie. They hadn’t needed her labor—for a change.

Maggie also noted that the girls her age had been busy doing something else. They must have brought clothes to change into for dancing, because now they were dressed in pretty party frocks. All the girls, with the exception of Sarah Stoddard, were decked out in their finest. The husband hunting never seemed to end. Even Ellie had on her pretty yellow-and-blue sundress, but that was for Zack. Sarah had worn a dress to the quilting, just a drab everyday dress. She was not interested in finding a husband, though, more likely, she was scared stiff at the prospect and was trying her hardest to remain invisible. Maggie envied her.

At this moment Maggie was painfully aware of her own garb. She was in her usual overalls and shirt. Mama had argued with her that morning about wearing something more “presentable” because they were having company. Maggie said she’d change before the ladies arrived but kept putting it off until Mama was so busy she either didn’t notice or didn’t have time to argue further. Now Maggie regretted her stubbornness. If she had changed, at least now she would have had on a decent everyday dress.

Well, it wasn’t too late. Glancing quickly around, she noted Colby hadn’t arrived yet. She started toward the house.

“Where are you going?” Mama asked.

“I’m going to change.”

“But we are about to start supper.”

“I’ll just be a minute.”

Mama looked on the verge of giving Maggie a much deserved “I told you so.” Then she paused, sighed, and said, “All right. We’ll wait for you.”

Maggie realized that would be worse than being the only girl in overalls—having everyone waiting on her! She’d have to make some grand entrance with everyone seeing she’d made a desperate bid to make up for her earlier bad taste. And they would know, at least Mabel, Iris, and Mrs. Stoddard would know, she had changed for the benefit of the young men, placing her in league with the husband hunters.

She gave a shrug. She was who she was, and if they didn’t like that, she didn’t care.

“Never mind, Mama,” she said. “Let’s just eat.”

“There’s time,” Mama said. “And you’ll want a dress on for the dancing later, won’t you?”

“Do I need a dress, Mama?” she snapped angrily. “You think that will help me?” Her voice shook, and she felt tears sting her eyes once again. Fortunately she and Mama were standing apart from the crowd, so she hoped no one heard her outburst. With an embarrassed scowl, Maggie added, “I’m not hungry anyway, and I’ve got a stomachache. I’m just going to go to my room to lie down—”

“Oh no, you are not!” Mama’s former gentleness turned suddenly to steel. “You are not going to ruin Ellie’s day by acting like a child. You will join us for supper and the party afterward. You can do so in overalls or a dress, but you will be sitting at a table in ten minutes. That is that!”