Sister's Choice (20 page)

Again, Maggie wasn’t happy about the direction things were taking, so she tried to change tack. “You two must be hungry after your hike. There’s lots of food left.”

“Perhaps we ought to be heading back,” Evan suggested. “It is getting dark earlier these days.”

Before Maggie knew it, they were seated in the carriage and on their way. The idyllic picnic, or
imagined
idyllic picnic, with Colby was over. And she had nothing to show for the afternoon except a big knot in the pit of her stomach.

Evan drove Colby and Tamara to the Stoddard place first and then drove Maggie home. On the way they were silent for a time, and Maggie knew the conversation that had ended their picnic was still weighing on their minds.

“Evan,” she began, trying to broach the delicate subject, “I don’t know what got into Colby today.”

“I don’t think he likes me very much,” Evan replied matter-of-factly.

“You know, all those years of he and the other boys making fun of you,” she said, “I really do think they were jealous of you.”

“I never gave them cause.” A hint of the hurt he’d felt then and now was evident in his voice. “I couldn’t help that I was smart or that my family had money and could send me to fancy schools. I probably wouldn’t have gone away to those schools if I had fit in here.”

“I know, and Colby shouldn’t hold it against you. But he does.”

“I will try to overlook it, because that is my Christian duty,” he said. “And because you care for him, I will try to see his good side.”

“I think he would like to apologize for making fun of you all those years ago,” she ventured. “But he’s got that male pride.”

Evan nodded.

She knew Evan had his share of pride, as well, but his sense of duty to God was stronger. Bits from their youth came back to Maggie’s memory. She recalled an incident that occurred shortly after she had started going to school. It involved Evan and the older kids, mostly the boys. Evan would have been about ten years old, and he had just gotten his spectacles. It was quite a novelty around there, since most families couldn’t have afforded them. If a child had bad eyesight, he just learned to live with it. But Evan had come to school that day with his new spectacles, and now Maggie realized how that act alone had been brave of him. He’d already had a hard time fitting in, and now the spectacles made him stand out even more. The boys called him four-eyes, and one boy—could it have been Colby?—snatched the spectacles from Evan’s face, and all the boys played “keep away” with them.

Did Evan cry and rail at his abusers? No, he hadn’t. Did he run to the teacher? No. He’d attempted to reason with them instead. He explained that the spectacles weren’t toys and were expensive and if anything happened to them, he’d be in trouble. He had told them they could try them on and see what they were like. All the while he kept trying to get them back as the boys tossed them around.

She remembered thinking how stupid those boys were. If she’d been given the chance, she would have tried on the spectacles, for she had been very curious about them. She had thought Evan was being quite generous with his offer.

Now in the carriage she turned to Evan. “Do you remember that first day you wore your spectacles to school?”

“It’s not one of my fondest memories, but you tend not to forget the more humiliating days of your life,” he said dryly.

“Was it that awful?”

“I was the only child in school with spectacles. And the boys didn’t let me forget what a freak that made me.”

She told him then how she remembered the event and ended by saying, “I thought you were brave and very lucky—I mean to have those fascinating spectacles! The other boys were stupid. I wanted to try on your spectacles.”

He smiled appreciatively. “I went home and bawled. I swore I would never wear them again.”

“But you didn’t cry in front of the boys.”

“I wanted to. But of all the names they called me over the years, crybaby was never one of them.”

“You must have hated them.”

“No.” He seemed surprised at the idea. “I often hated myself for being odd, but never them. I wanted to be accepted. I wanted to be like them. Sometimes I would pray so hard to God for Him to make me less different. I don’t know why He never did.”

“That’s easy,” Maggie said. “God doesn’t want us all to be alike. I know sometimes it bothers me that I don’t fit in with the women, yet, on the other hand, would I really want to be just like them? How boring!”

“You are quite right. I will try to keep that in mind.”

Evan pulled into the Newcomb yard. Gypsy ran up to the carriage barking. Ellie and Zack were sitting on the porch, waving and calling out a greeting.

Maggie had thought she would be happy to see the afternoon end, since it had not fared well between her and Colby. Now she practically forgot all about that, realizing instead that she wanted to keep talking to Evan. She invited him for supper, but he declined because his parents were expecting him. She asked when they could return to St. Helens to see Tommy. He said he needed to research the case further and begin interviewing prospective witnesses before meeting again with his client.

Thus he drove away with no plans made for them to see each other again soon.

Evan Parker was not sure about a lot of things in life. In fact, life in general often confused and befuddled him. For instance, how stupid it was of him not to conjure up some pretense for seeing Maggie again! Why had he just now met her invitations with practical and true reasons for refusal? It wasn’t until it was too late and he was driving away that he realized his stupidity. He could have—should have!—come up with something, some reason to see her again.

There were probably only three things he could say at the moment that he was certain of. One, without question, was his faith in God. Even if God hadn’t answered his youthful prayers to make him more like the other boys, he knew it was God who had given him the strength to endure a difficult childhood.

The second certainty, which at this juncture was definitely questionable, was his intelligence. He knew the law backward and forward, could quote pages from law books, cases, and precedents. He’d tutored half his classmates and had even taught his instructors a few things they didn’t know. He’d excelled in science and mathematics and had been courted by the School of Medicine but had opted for the law because he had no stomach for blood.

The third certainty was just now dawning upon him, but it was no less certain. He was in love with Maggie Newcomb.

This did not make him as fickle as it sounded. Yes, he had once thought himself in love with Tamara. But time had passed since she had so blithely, if unknowingly, rejected him. Now, considering the depth and breadth of his feelings for Maggie, he wondered if he had ever truly loved Tamara. And as for the rumor, which he’d allowed to spread, that he had come home in order to be close to Tamara—well, it wasn’t exactly true. He let his family think that because he’d been too ashamed to admit that he simply was not cut out for the life of a big city lawyer. The only person he had even come close to admitting that to was Maggie herself.

However, as was his sorry habit, he had made quite a mess of things. How could he have embroiled himself in a plan to bring Maggie and Colby Stoddard together? When he had first agreed to this, he hadn’t been certain of his feelings for Maggie. Though even then he’d been very keen on getting to know her better and had jumped at what might have been his only chance to do so.

He’d felt something that first moment he had looked upon her at his welcome home party, had looked upon her and doused her with his punch! The fact that she had not held that faux pas against him endeared her to him more.

Nevertheless, it wasn’t until they had been mired in mud and she had laughingly flung a handful at him that he had known without doubt his heart belonged to her.

What a quandary he was in now! Though the scheme to pair her with Colby was giving him a perfect excuse to be with her, it was also working against him. There was the opportunity provided by her interest in Tommy Donnelly’s trial, but he could not in good conscience use that to further his romantic pursuits.

Should he simply tell her of his feelings? He was fairly certain what would happen if he did so. She, like Tamara, would be forced to tell him that she cared for him only as a brother. There was another possibility. He could attempt to push Colby and Tamara together. Yet that might only break Maggie’s heart and place a wedge between them. The last thing on earth he wanted was to hurt Maggie.

Moreover, he was not comfortable with all the scheming.

If he had but a small sign of encouragement from Maggie, he would come clean to her. He knew that God liked to give His children the desires of their hearts. Surely God would not want to see him rejected twice. He could only pray and hope God would choose to bless him thus.

EIGHTEEN

On Monday morning Maggie went to the Stoddards’ place to work, as she had promised Colby, but she was disappointed when Mrs. Stoddard greeted her at the door, informing her that he was not there.

“He’s working in the orchard today,” his mother said.

“I’ve come to help out a bit, if you need me,” Maggie offered. She couldn’t very well back out, even if the object of her generosity wasn’t present.

“Well . . . I suppose I could find something around the house for you to do.” Mrs. Stoddard was understandably hesitant if she thought Maggie had come to do housework.

“I was planning to help Colby with his chores—but if you need me, I’m here for you, as well. I just want to be useful.”

“Come in. And it was very thoughtful of you to think of us. We can use help.”

Mrs. Stoddard slowly warmed to the idea of Maggie’s help. Would she have been more receptive if it had been Ellie at her door?

Maggie entered the house. It was very much like her own home, one big room downstairs with bedrooms upstairs. Sarah and Tamara were in the kitchen doing the breakfast dishes. She exchanged greetings with them. Tamara mentioned that she hoped she could come by Maggie’s house tomorrow for another sewing lesson.

Mrs. Stoddard, garbed in an apron over her work dress, had apparently been tending a large pot on the cookstove. “I must keep stirring this,” she said, returning to the task. “I am starching some of Colby’s and my husband’s good shirts.”

“I can do that if you want,” Maggie said, trying to be as helpful as possible.

“No, thank you. It must be done just so.” Mrs. Stoddard paused in apparent thought. “There are so many things to do. Let me give it a moment’s consideration.”

Maggie knew she wasn’t the most perceptive person in the world, but even she could notice the tension in the Stoddard kitchen. Had she offended in some way? Or had the tension been there before her arrival? Then it began to come clear when she heard the sound of floorboards creaking. Maggie glanced up and saw Mr. Stoddard coming down the stairs. She remembered he hadn’t been in church yesterday and it had been a week or two since she had last seen him. In that time he seemed to have aged noticeably. She’d always thought him handsome for a man of his age. Colby had obviously inherited his father’s good looks. Now Mr. Stoddard was pale, the lines on his face standing out like the markings on the relief map at school. There were dark circles under his eyes, too. Maggie knew that he had been ailing for months, but for the first time she realized how serious it must be.

Mrs. Stoddard also heard the boards on the stairs creak. “Albert, what are you doing?” she demanded.

“My water pitcher is empty.” With a wan smile he held up the pitcher.

“Why didn’t you use the bell I gave you? You must not come downstairs.” She spoke to him as if he were an errant child.

“Aw, I feel silly ringing that bell,” he replied.

“I don’t care. Dr. Leetham said you were to stay in bed.” She strode up the stairs to where he stood and took the water pitcher from him. “Now, you march back up to bed this instant!”

Like a child who had been soundly scolded, Mr. Stoddard obeyed and turned around. He didn’t exactly
march
up the stairs but plodded slowly like an old man.

“That man is going to be the death of me!” Mrs. Stoddard grumbled as she filled the pitcher from the kitchen water pump. Then, still mumbling to herself, she headed upstairs.

Both Maggie and Sarah had the same idea regarding the need to keep stirring the items in the pot, and they strode toward the stove at the same moment. Maggie had a clear look at Sarah and saw that she, like her father, was pale. Her eyes were red-rimmed as though she had been crying.

“Sarah, are you okay?” Maggie asked. She never had been good at knowing the right things to say in such instances.

“Y-yes,” Sarah replied in a trembly voice.

“Your father will be all right as soon as he rests up a little,” Maggie said, knowing, after seeing the man, how lame her words were.

“Sure he will.” But Sarah probably believed it no more than Maggie did. She took up the wooden spoon that her mother had propped on the rim of the pot and began stirring the shirts. “I’ll take care of this, Maggie. But if you’d like, well, I haven’t had a chance to gather the eggs this morning.”

“I’ll get right to it,” Maggie said eagerly—mostly eager to get outside and away from the awkwardness in the house. “Maybe when I finish that, I’ll run up to the orchard and see if Colby needs help.”

Sarah nodded and Maggie hurried out, hoping she made it before Mrs. Stoddard reappeared. It took her a little longer than usual to gather the eggs because the hens had hid a few, and she wasn’t familiar with their hiding places, as she was at home with their chickens. She brought the basket back to the house. The women were busy with other tasks. She could tell Mrs. Stoddard was distracted because she offered no criticism about how Maggie had collected the eggs.

Maggie said she would head up to the orchard and help Colby. Mrs. Stoddard mumbled something, hardly even noticing Maggie, who had the feeling that her help was considered more of a curse than a blessing. She couldn’t hold it against the woman though, for she had a lot on her mind.