The Unforgiven (7 page)

It felt like being jabbed with a pin. She looked up at him, her eyes wide with surprise. Just then the heel of her shoe caught in the space between two cobblestones, and she stumbled.

Jess grabbed her before she could fall and pulled her arm securely through his. “You all right?” he asked. “Did you hurt yourself?”

Maggie flushed with relief and embarrassment. “Just my pride,” she admitted.

Jess started to laugh. After a moment, Maggie began to giggle. They stood in the street, her arm locked in his, laughing. Maggie’s eyes softened as she looked at him.

“Let’s go,” he said at last.

They turned together and started to walk. All at once, Maggie stopped short. Standing on the opposite side of the street, her face white, her eyes wide, was Evy. The girl stared at Jess and Maggie, her eyes fixed on the spot where Jess held Maggie’s arm. Her thin body trembled in the fawn-colored jacket that she wore, and her spiky hair was wild, disheveled by the wind.

“Hey, there’s Evy.” Jess spotted the girl and began
to wave vigorously at her. “Come on,” he said, starting to drag Maggie across the street. “We can all walk back together.”

Maggie disengaged her arm from his. “No,” she said uneasily. “You go ahead.”

Jess looked at her, perplexed. “Is anything wrong?”

“No,” she insisted. “I just forgot. I have to stop in the drugstore.” She made a vague gesture behind her.

Jess shrugged. “Okay. See you later.”

Maggie watched as he crossed the road to Evy. The girl greeted him coolly. The two exchanged a few words, and then Maggie saw Evy smile shyly at him. The two turned and started toward the office. Evy had her face up toward Jess. His large body seemed to shield her from the ocean breeze. Next to Jess, Evy looked fragile, and very young.

With a start, Maggie realized that she had been about Evy’s age when she had fallen in love with Roger. For a moment she recalled the pleasure of the first time he had lifted her from her desk chair and drawn her to him. After months of imagining just such a moment. She had been so blissfully happy and ignored all the guilty feelings that the stolen kiss aroused. If only she had known how it would all end. Maggie shook herself out of the memory and watched Jess and Evy disappearing up the street. She wondered if there was anything between them. The girl was clearly infatuated with Jess. Perhaps something had happened at one time. A flirtation, or an affair. It might still be going on. The thought caused a stab of jealousy which Maggie had not expected. Disturbed, Maggie started for the drugstore.

Whatever it is, or was,
she thought,
you don’t want to be in the middle of it.
It was obvious that Evy wanted him and cared for him. It was just another good reason to stay away from Jess.

It was twenty minutes before Maggie was able to get back to the office. An old woman in a tattered seal skin coat was discussing the merits of various indigestion remedies with the pharmacist and would not be hurried. Maggie considered leaving behind the few items she had found to buy, but then she remembered that it was Friday, and she didn’t want to come to town on the weekend if she could help it.

She glanced at her watch apprehensively as she hurried up the path to the
Cove News
building. As quietly as possible she opened the front door and went in, pulling the door gently shut behind her. She was relieved to see that there was no one in the hall. Maggie slipped off her jacket and hung it on one of the hooks of the coat-rack. As she approached the office door she heard voices drifting out. She composed her face, preparing to walk in and interrupt the conversation. Suddenly the sound of her own name jumped out at her from the rise and fall of the voices. She stepped back against the wall.

“I don’t know where she is,” said Grace querulously. “She should have been back half an hour ago.”

“Finish the story, Tom.” Maggie recognized Evy’s flat tones.

The man cleared his throat and spoke in a voice that sounded vaguely familiar to Maggie. “So,” he said indignantly, “I look up and there she is, walking out the
door wearing two of my silver combs in her hair just as brazen as you please.”

“Get out,” Grace breathed.

“That’s so,” he affirmed. “And I chase after her. And when I ask her if she means to pay for it, she gives me this song and dance that she doesn’t have her wallet.”

“She left it here,” Evy volunteered.

The sound of their incredulous laughter floated out into the corridor.

“I’ll tell you something,” the man went on soberly. “I was thinking about telling Jack Schmale about this.”

“Why?” Evy asked. “She gave them back, didn’t she?”

“That’s not the point, young lady,” Tom barked. “Is it, Grace? The point is that she’s new around here, and right off the bat she’s lifting something out of my store.”

“Jack’s off island until Monday,” Grace volunteered. “Meeting of the state police chiefs.”

“I don’t see what the big deal is,” said Evy. “If she gave them back and she offered to pay for them, I don’t see why you’d want to go ratting on her. Anybody can make a mistake…”

“Hey,” Grace bridled, “whose side are you on, anyway?”

“Nobody’s side,” Evy insisted. “I’m just saying…”

“Well now, Grace, maybe the girl has a point. Maybe I shouldn’t be bothering Jack with this. But you can bet I’ll keep an eye on her. After all, you can’t be too careful with new people…”

Grace and Evy shifted abruptly in their chairs, and Grace cleared her throat. Aware that he had lost his audience,
Tom Croddick looked behind him. Maggie stood in the doorway, her eyes carefully devoid of expression.

“Oh.” His embarrassment made his voice crack. “Hello.”

Maggie ignored him and walked over to her desk. She picked up a manuscript and focused her eyes on it.

Tom raised his eyebrows over the black frames of his glasses and rolled his eyes meaningfully at the other two. “Well,” he said heartily to Grace and Evy, “I guess you girls are busy. I’d better be getting back too.”

Grace nodded. “See ya, Tom.”

The shopkeeper started for the door. “’Bye, girls.” As he passed through the doorway he nearly collided with a large man with a gray beard who was barreling through, a camera swinging from a strap around his neck.

“Hey, Tom.”

“Owen,” Tom said. “How are you?”

“Good, good.” The big man pumped the hand of the departing storekeeper and then turned to the others. “Hello, Grace, Evy.” He looked over at Maggie and then looked again, a puzzled expression on his face.

Grace spoke up. “She’s new. Emmett hired her.”

“I’m Owen Duggan,” he said to Maggie. “Wildlife photographer extraordinaire and sometime free-lance paparazzo for the
Cove News.
”

Maggie took his extended hand. “How do you do?” she said softly. “I’m Maggie Fraser.”

“Nice to meet you, Maggie. Although you’re looking a little pale there. You should get out more. Breathe the salt air.” He thumped on his barrel chest with a flat palm. Maggie forced a smile.

He looked at her sharply for a second. From the first moment he saw her he was struck by the thought that there was something oddly familiar about her. He felt certain that he had seen her face before. He was just about to say so, but then he dismissed it with a shrug. Owen seated himself on the edge of Grace’s desk and leaned toward the older woman with a wicked smile. “Charley keeping you happy, Grace?”

“He sure is,” Grace trilled with a flirtatious toss of her head. “How are things with you?”

“Just fine,” Owen announced, clapping his hands and rubbing them together. “I’m going to be making another trip to New York in a few weeks. An editor over at
Life
Magazine may run a whole feature on the series of wild birds that I did. So, I’m here to pick up the negatives. Did Jess use any of them?”

“He used one,” Grace said, “but we’ve got the whole lot back now. Maggie,” Grace called out imperiously, “get Owen’s negatives for him. I think they’re over on the file cabinet.”

“I was up to the firehouse just now,” Owen said conversationally to Grace. “They just delivered the new ambulance.”

“Oh, yes,” said Grace. “Charley was mentioning something about that to me last night.”

Maggie was only dimly aware of their conversation as she moved toward the file cabinet. She tried to concentrate on the simple errand she had to accomplish, but her mind was still reeling from what she had heard from the hallway. She should have known that it would get back. On an island like this, gossip would travel in
no time. She was grateful that Jess hadn’t been in the room to hear it. Sooner or later, he probably would.

At least Evy had defended her. She tried to hold on to that fact, knowing it should make her feel better. But it was not enough. She was trying so hard to be inconspicuous, but it seemed as if everything she did left the wrong impression.

Right at her eye level, atop the cabinet, she saw the black strips of film, poking out of a tissue paper sleeve. Grateful that she would not have to hunt for them, Maggie grabbed the handful of negatives.

It was not until she was in the act of jerking them off the cabinet that Maggie saw the coffee mug. It was resting atop the cabinet, steam issuing over the rim, its lower edge overlapping the negatives. Even as Maggie yanked at the film strips, she helplessly watched the cup spin, spill, and begin to roll. The burning hot liquid splashed over her hand, and she heard the crash of the cup on the floor.

“Ahhh,” Maggie cried out and clutched her throbbing hand. The negatives fell to the floor and began to curl from the heat of the coffee.

“Shit!” Owen yelled. “My film!”

Owen scrambled for the negatives while Maggie squeezed and shook her aching hand.

“What’d you do?” Grace asked angrily, coming over to them. Evy stood behind her, peering down. Grace reached for Maggie’s hand.

“Don’t touch me,” Maggie hissed at her, drawing back.

“Don’t worry,” said Grace. “I don’t intend to.” She began to mutter as she bent down to gather up the
chips of the mug beside Owen, who was moaning and squinting up at the transparent strips in the light.

Maggie clenched her teeth and tried to will the pain away. She looked up and saw Evy watching her, the faintest suggestion of a smile on her face.

Maggie stared at her. “What’s so funny?” she asked angrily, shaking her throbbing hand.

“Nothing,” said Evy in an injured tone. “You should put some cold water on that.”

Maggie turned her back on the girl.

“Come on,” said Evy. “Let me help you.” She took hold of Maggie’s arm and steered her over to the sink.

5

You’re taking a chance,
Jess thought to himself as he eased the car into a parking space on Main Street.
Maybe she’d rather not spend her Saturday with you.
He switched off the engine and sat behind the wheel, staring at the dashboard for a while. He knew he should probably call her first, but he figured it would be harder for her to refuse him face-to-face. It had been a long time, he reflected, since he had felt so inept. For a moment he wondered if it wouldn’t be better to just spend the day alone, as usual. Then, purposefully, he clambered out of the car and slammed the door.

As he walked up Main Street, glancing in windows, he tried to think about Sharon and what she had liked. All he was able to remember was the scrimshaw necklace he had brought home to her one day after she had been feeling low for weeks. She had lifted the lid of the box and stared at the pendant with a dull look in her eyes. The carving on it was of a ship, fully rigged, and Jess had thought it quite handsome. He waited for her to smile. Instead, she had picked up the neckpiece and rolled it around in her fingers. Then she had turned abruptly and hurled it across the room. It smashed against one of the kitchen cabinets and dropped into the
salad bowl. Without another word she had turned and walked away from him.

Jess sighed and peered unseeing into the window nearest him until the pricking behind his eyes subsided. Then he continued up the street.

Physically, he thought, the two women were not at all alike. Sharon had been blond and diminutive, her skin brown in the summers when he first knew her. In the winters her color had faded into a sallow, yellowish hue. Maggie’s white skin reminded him of a polished stone, and he liked her red hair. Maybe he would get her a scarf to drape loosely around her white throat. He remembered Sharon, seated at her vanity, saying she was glad she was not a redhead. There were so few colors they could wear. Jess frowned and wondered if it were true. It seemed to him that Maggie would look good in any shade he could think of.

He thought of flowers, realizing that it would mean driving out to the nursery on Eagle Rock Road. But flowers died so quickly and had to be thrown away. He wanted to give her something she would keep. Something that would make her think of him each time she used it. For a moment Jess stood on the curb, tapping his foot impatiently. “Perfume, maybe,” he said aloud. He looked up and down the street, then crossed over, in a loping gait, to the drugstore.

Jess turned up the Thornhill driveway and pulled up beside the old black Buick. He chuckled, remembering Maggie’s description of it over lunch. “One automobile wreck included, no extra charge.”

The house seemed unusually quiet, and he wondered if Maggie could possibly still be asleep. He looked at his watch. It was almost noon. Nobody slept that late, he reasoned, and he got out of his car and ran up the porch steps. He opened the screen door and pounded on the wooden doorframe.

There was no answer. Jess knocked again and then called out, but no one came to the door. Leaning over the porch railing, he craned his neck to see into the kitchen window. Everything was neatly in place, but there was no sign of Maggie.

I should have called first,
he thought in annoyance. He turned and descended the steps. Just then he saw her, standing with her back to him, pulling shut the side door to the garage. She was wearing a bandanna on her head, her hands and forearms smudged with black grease.

Jess grinned and called out to her. “Hello, there.”