Shattered Lives (Flynn Family Saga Book 1) (12 page)

*  *  *

Maggie worked with the little filly every day.  By
the end of the week, Rosalind wore a saddle.

James nodded approvingly.  “Now we’ve got to teach
you how to ride.”

Maggie stared up at the filly’s back.  It seemed
terribly high.  “I can’t!”

“Yes, you can.”  James came into the corral.  He
rubbed Rosalind’s nose affectionately.  “Of course, I’m not going to ask you to
ride a green horse your first day.  You’ll learn on Desdemona.”

Maggie laughed.  “She’s the oldest horse in your
stable.”

James nodded.  “Yup.  And the gentlest.  She likes
you, Maggie.  You have a gentle touch when you brush her.”

Maggie beamed with pride.

James removed the saddle from Rosalind’s back.  He
led the filly into the barn and brought out Desdemona.  The old horse plodded
sedately.  She looked huge to Maggie.  Desi nudged Maggie affectionately, and
Maggie laughed.  A little of the tension ebbed out of her.  She helped her
grandfather saddle the old mare.  Then, James boosted his granddaughter into
the saddle.

Desdemona seemed even taller from the saddle. 
Maggie clung to the saddle horn with both hands.

“Relax, Maggie.  It’s just like sitting in a rocking
chair.  Only easier.”

Cautiously, Maggie released her grip.  She sat up
straight in the saddle and realized that the saddle was designed to keep her on
the horse’s back.  James shortened the stirrups to fit her.  Then, he clucked
to Desdemona.

The old mare set off on an easy walk.

At first, Maggie bounced up and down, but by
suppertime, she had relaxed into the rhythm.

“That’s enough for one day.”  James helped her
down.  “We’ll teach you how to trot tomorrow.”

Maggie nodded eagerly.

*  *  *

Morning dawned cloudy and still, with a feel of
tension in the air.  Maggie got up and did her chores swiftly.  After breakfast,
she brought Desdemona from the barn.  James swung the saddle onto the mare’s
back and then made Maggie climb into the saddle herself.

“Squeeze with your knees, Maggie.”

Maggie nodded and squeezed.

With a weary sigh, Desdemona began to walk around
the corral.

“Kick her, Maggie.”

Maggie shook her head.  “I don’t want to hurt her!”

James laughed.  “It won’t hurt her, not as long as
you don’t wear spurs.”

Reluctantly, Maggie kicked Desdemona’s bony sides. 
Desdemona lurched into a desultory trot.

Maggie laughed.  “I know you can do better than
that.  I’ve seen you in the pasture.”  She kicked again.

At the same moment, thunder cracked.

Desdemona ran flat out for the fence.

At the last possible moment, Desdemona leaped,
clearing the corral fence with room to spare.  Maggie instinctively leaned
forward as her horse jumped.  Desdemona hit the ground with a tooth-rattling
thump and galloped off toward the horizon.  At first, Maggie jolted on her
back, just as she had her first day.  Then, she relaxed and fell into
Desdemona’s rhythm.  Exhilaration replaced her fear.  After a few minutes,
Desdemona’s breath came in gasps, and Maggie reined her in.  “Whoa, girl. 
Whoa!”  She heard hooves pounding the bare earth behind her and turned.

James rode Orlando bareback across the rolling
pastureland.

Maggie waved to him.  “We’re all right,
Grandfather!”

James slowed his mount.  He took out his
handkerchief and wiped his face.  “Well, you’re my granddaughter, all right.” 
He patted Desdemona’s neck.  “And
you’ve
been holding out on us, old
girl.”

Maggie laughed.

The first few drops of rain began to fall, big and
hard and cold.

James turned Orlando, and they rode, side by side,
back to the barn.

*  *  *

The summer days passed swiftly.  James harvested the
corn and drove it into town.  Maggie brought Rosalind out of the stable and let
her into the corral.  She went back into the barn and brought out the old, worn
saddle she had used to ride Desdemona.  She put the blanket on Rosalind’s
back.  The little filly shivered slightly.  Maggie came around to Rosie’s head
and patted her.  “It’s all right, girl.  You’ve worn a saddle before.”

Slowly, Rosalind calmed down.  Maggie slung the
saddle over Rosie’s back and cinched it tightly.  Rosalind turned her head and
looked at Maggie.

Maggie smiled and patted her neck.  Then, she swung
up onto the filly’s back.  For a moment, Rosalind stood stock-still.

Then, she reared up onto her hind legs.  Maggie
leaned forward and kept her seat.  “Hey!  It’s just me.  You remember me.”

Rosalind reared again.  Maggie almost fell off the
back of her horse.  As soon as Rosalind had all four hooves on the ground
again, Maggie slipped off the horse and took the reins.  She walked around so
that Rosalind could see her.  She held out a lump of sugar.

Rosalind snorted contemptuously—but she ate the
sugar anyway.

Laughing, Maggie put her foot in the stirrup and
swung up onto Rosalind’s back.

The filly bolted.

Maggie pulled gently on the reins.  “Whoa, girl. 
Whoa, Rosalind.”

Rosalind snorted.  She pawed the ground, but she
didn’t rear.

Maggie started to kick her and thought better of
it.  Instead, she squeezed her knees together.

Rosalind moved off at a smooth walk.

Grinning, Maggie leaned over and opened the gate. 
She rode Rosalind out of the drive and onto the meadow.  She urged Rosalind
into a trot.  Then, she drew a deep breath and kicked her.

Rosalind moved smoothly from a trot into a gallop. 
She seemed to float over the ground, and Maggie floated with her.  Finally,
reluctantly, she turned the little filly around and brought her home.

James was waiting for them.  He looked angry.  “You
could have been killed!”

Tears filled Maggie’s eyes.  Rosalind sensed
Maggie’s fear and sidled nervously.  “I’m sorry, Grandfather.”

James sighed.  “I didn’t mean to frighten you,
Maggie.  I was just worried about you.”

Maggie looked away.  “Nobody was ever worried about
me before, except maybe Brother Joseph.”

James stared at her.  “Is that who taught you to say
grace like that?”

Maggie nodded.

“In
English
?  Not Latin?”

Maggie nodded again.

James shook his head slowly.  “Well, no harm done.  Just
wait for me next time, all right?”

“Yes, Grandfather.”

James lifted her from Rosalind’s back.  He helped
her cool down the horse.  Then, they washed up and went inside for supper.

“Did you speak to Maggie, James?”

“Yes, my dear.”

“Were you stern?”  Tess put her hands on her hips.

James smiled slowly.  “Wellll...”

Tess laughed.  “You were too proud of her, weren’t
you?”

James nodded.

Tess went over to him and kissed his cheek.  She
turned to Maggie.  “You have a gift with horses, child.  But there are people
who love you and would miss you if you died.  Do you understand?”

Tears filled Maggie’s eyes.  “I’m sorry,
Grandmother.  I didn’t mean to frighten you.  It’s just—“

Tess sighed.  “You ran wild in the city, Maggie,
because there was no one to watch over you.  Courage is a good thing. 
Recklessness is not.  You need both courage and discipline.  Do you understand
that?”

Maggie thought about it.  Slowly, she nodded.  “I
think so.  Rosalind hates wearing a saddle and bridle, but unless she does,
she’s no good as a saddle horse.”

Tess smiled approvingly.  “That's it exactly.  We
all need discipline, Maggie.”

Maggie’s eyes widened.  “Even grownups?”

Tell laughed.  “Especially grownups.  Come on. 
Supper’s getting cold.”

*  *  *

September came.  Tess baked a birthday cake for
Maggie.  She spelled out Maggie’s name in sugar icing, and there were thirteen
candles.  Maggie stared at it in wonder.  “Grandma, it’s beautiful.”

Tess smiled and ruffled Maggie’s hair.  “It’s just a
cake.”

Maggie nodded self-consciously.  “But I never had
one before.”  She sighed.  “I wish I could learn to cook, but I always burn
stuff.”

Tess squeezed her shoulder.  “It’s all right,
Maggie.  When you meet a young man who takes your fancy, you’ll learn soon
enough.”

Maggie smiled at her grandmother and blew out the
candles.  She opened the brown paper package that James had set beside her
plate.  Inside was a copy of
Romeo and Juliet
.  Maggie’s eyes widened. 
“Grandfather, how did you know?”

“I know
you
, Maggie-my-girl.”

Tess handed her another package.  It contained a
calico dress.  Maggie touched the fabric reverently.  “It’s beautiful,
Grandmother.”

Tess looked shy.  “I’m glad you like it, Maggie.”

Maggie stared at her.  “You made it yourself, didn’t
you?”

Tess nodded.

“How did you manage to keep it a secret?”

Tess smiled.  “I only worked on it while you and
James were outside working with the horses.”

Lucy didn’t come down for supper, and Maggie felt a
pang of disappointment.

That night, Lucy came into Maggie’s room with a
candle.  “I’m sorry, Maggie.  I know I’ve never been much of a mother to you.”

Maggie didn’t know what to say, so she said nothing.

Lucy sighed and sat on the edge of Maggie’s bed. 
She stared out of the window and the moon-dappled stable yard.  “When I found
out I was with child, I was so happy,” she said softly.

Maggie’s breath caught.  She wanted to say that she
hadn’t known, hadn’t ever felt wanted, but her mother seemed...distant, as if
she were seeing something Maggie couldn’t.

“Then, after you were born, I felt...different.  I
was sad all the time.  Michael tried to cheer me up, but he couldn’t.  Nothing
could.”  Lucy wiped her eyes with one slender hand.  “I think he was relieved
when the war started.  It gave him an excuse to leave.”  She turned to Maggie. 
Her face was twisted with fury.  “So you see, this is your fault!  It’s your
fault that he drinks, and it’s your fault that he’s sick!”  She stood up and
swept out of the room.

It’s your fault that he drinks, and it’s your
fault that he’s sick!
  Lucy’s words seemed to echo over and over inside
Maggie’s head.  She wept, silently, the way she learned to after her father
came home from the war.

CHAPTER TWELVE

In the morning, Tess helped Maggie put on her new
dress.  James hitched up Caesar and Calpurnia and drove Maggie to the
schoolhouse.  It was about the same size as the barn, and a dozen children
played in the yard in front of the school.

Maggie felt small and shy.

“Just remember that you’re my granddaughter.  Stand
up straight and look everyone in the eye.”  James squeezed her shoulder
reassuringly.

Maggie nodded, but her mouth felt dry as she climbed
down from the wagon.  She stood outside the circle of children, wishing that
she knew their names.  A young woman came outside and rang a bell loudly.  One
by one, the other children climbed the steps and entered the schoolroom.

James climbed the stairs with Maggie.  He took off
his hat.  “Good morning, Miss Pruett.”

Miss Pruett smiled at him.  “Good morning, Mr.
MacMillan.”  She smiled at Maggie.  “You must be Mary.”

Maggie nodded shyly.

James shook his head.  “We call her Maggie.”

Miss Pruett nodded.  “Come on inside, Maggie.”  She
held out her hand.

Maggie nodded.  Her palms were wet.  She wiped her
hand on her skirt before she took Miss Pruett’s.  Together, they walked into
the classroom.  “Class, this is Maggie O’Brien.”

“Fish eater!  Fish eater!”  A tall, heavy boy with a
pockmarked face jeered at her.

Maggie winced.  She had heard people call them that
as she and Brother Joseph fed the beggars.

“Tommy, we don’t call people names.”  Miss Pruett
frowned at the boy.

Tommy shrugged.  “That’s what my Dad calls them.”

“Her name is Maggie.  Now, you will stay after class
and write one hundred times, ‘I will not call people names.’”

Tommy scowled.

Maggie looked up at her teacher.  “It’s all right. 
I’ve been called worse.”

Miss Pruett hunkered down so that they were the same
height.  “No, Maggie.  It’s not all right.  Part of my job is to teach you, all
of you, manners.”

Maggie nodded slowly.

Miss Pruett led Maggie to her seat.  There was a
girl in the desk to Maggie’s right with brown hair and eyes.

“My name is Edie, and I don’t like Tommy Miller,
either.”

Maggie smiled at her shyly.

“Now, open your primers to page one.”

Maggie opened the book on her desk.  “
The Pilgrim’s
Progress
,” she whispered.

“Maggie, would you care to begin reading?”

Maggie licked her dry lips.  “Ma’am, I don’t know
what a pilgrim is.”

“Who does?”

Edie put up her hand.

“Yes, Edie?”  Miss Pruett nodded at Edie.

“They’re the people who first came to this country. 
They settled in New England.”

Miss Pruett shook her head.  “No, Edie.  I’m afraid
that’s wrong.”

Edie frowned.  “But they
did
!”

Miss Pruett smiled.  “Yes, they did.  They came to
this country looking for a better way of life.  But in this book, the Pilgrim
is on a different kind of journey.  He is trying to become a better person.”

“Oh.”  Edie’s face reddened.

“It’s all right, Edie.”  Miss Pruett squeezed the
child’s shoulder.  “Everyone makes mistakes.”

Maggie lost herself in the story of the Pilgrim who
vanquished, not dragons or black knights, but despair and selfishness.  It
reminded her of Brother Joseph.  She smiled at the memory.

The day passed quickly.  She did well with reading,
but arithmetic came hard, and Tommy laughed at her mistakes until Miss Pruett
made him sit in the corner with his back to the room.

Finally, the day ended.  Maggie ran out of the
schoolroom with the other students.  Her grandfather was waiting for her with
the wagon.  She climbed in eagerly.

James smiled at her.  “How was school?”

“Wonderful!  They have books, Grandfather!  Lots and
lots of books!”

James laughed.

Maggie sighed.  “But I can’t add or subtract or
multiply or divide.  The numbers don’t seem to make any sense.”

James nodded.  “I had trouble with arithmetic, too. 
Tonight, we’ll work on it together.”

“I made a new friend, too.  Her name is Edie.  We
played together at recess.  She’s the same age as me.  I mean, as I am.” 
Maggie smiled happily.  Her smile faded slowly.  “Grandfather?”

“Yes, Maggie?”

“Why doesn’t Tommy Miller like me?”

James sighed.  “Tommy Miller and his father don’t
like anyone, Maggie-my-girl.  Don’t take it personally.”

Maggie nodded, but she wasn’t quite sure how to do
that.

*  *  *

Maggie worked hard on her numbers, but they still
didn’t make much sense to her.  “I can’t do this!  I just can’t!”  She threw
her slate across the kitchen.

“Maggie!”  Her grandmother’s voice was sharp.

Maggie ducked her head.  “I’m sorry, Grandmother.”

Tess sighed and came into the kitchen.  She put her
arm around Maggie.  Maggie turned and buried her face in her grandmother’s soft
shoulder.  “I’m sorry, Grandmother, but no matter how hard I try, I just can’t
do this!”

Tess let her cry for a little while, and then she
put her hands on Maggie’s shoulders and pushed her back.  “I know just how you
feel.  Sewing came terribly hard for me.”

“It did?”  Maggie looked down at her calico dress. 
The stitches were small and neat and even.

“Yes, it did.”  Tess sighed.  “I was a lot like you,
Maggie.  A lot of things came easy to me.  Cooking for instance.”

Maggie looked up at her grandmother and nodded.

“But sewing is a skill that takes patience and
practice.”  Tess’s mouth curved into a smile.  “And when I was your age, I was
very short on patience.”

“Like the pilgrim in
Pilgrim’s Progress.
”

Tess nodded.  “I’m going to tell you what my mother
told me.  You can learn to do just about anything if you put your mind to it.”

Maggie hesitated.  “Really?”

Tess nodded again.  “Really.  Now, what exactly were
you working on?”

“The times tables.  I just can’t remember them.”

Tess nodded one more time.  She took out a sack of
peas and put it on the table.  “All right.  Let’s start from the beginning. 
One times one equals one.  That means that you’re just taking one pea and
leaving it alone.”  She set two peas on the table.  “One times two.”

Maggie nodded slowly.  She took three peas from the
sack and set them up next to the two peas.  “One times three?”

“That’s right.”  Tess went through it with her all
the way up to ten.  Then, she started on the twos.  “Now, two times one is...” 
She looked at Maggie expectantly.

Maggie took two peas from the sack at set them on
the table.

Tess squeezed her shoulder.  “Good.  Now, two times
two.”

Maggie frowned in concentration.  She took two peas
out of the sack.  She hesitated and took two more.

Tess beamed at her.  “That’s right!  Now, two times
three...”

By the time they reached the five times row, Maggie
was on fire.  They reached ten times ten, and then they were out of peas. 
Maggie felt disappointed, but Tess was undaunted.  “Eleven times one.”  She
took the solitary pea from the row of one times one and set it next to ten
times one.  Maggie’s eyes widened.  She set two peas from the first row next to
the cluster of twenty peas.  “Eleven times two.”

Tess nodded.

Maggie looked at her grandmother in awe.  “Thank
you.”

Tears shone in Tess’s eyes.  “Your welcome, child.” 
She hugged Maggie hard.

Maggie tilted her head up.  “Grandmother?”

“Yes, child?”

“You taught me more than the times tables tonight,
didn’t you?”

Tess grinned.  “I
tried
to.”

Maggie laughed.  She sobered swiftly.  “You taught
me that if I put my mind to it, I can learn just about anything.”

Tess nodded solemnly.

Suddenly, Maggie grinned.  “Except cooking.”

Tess laughed.

*  *  *

The days passed swiftly.  Whenever she wasn’t in
school, Maggie spent most of her time with her grandfather and the horses, but
whenever a woman gave birth, she went with her grandmother to tend them.

October came.  Maggie woke one frosty morning, and
the trees that lined the brook had turned: red and orange and yellow and
brown.  The horses had more energy.  Even Desdemona was frisky.  Maggie leaned
her arms on the corral fence and laughed as Desi pranced around and around the
corral with the other horses.

She started back toward the house and saw a man
walking up the lane.  Fear froze her in place.  "Papa," she
whispered.  She turned and ran to the house.

Lucy sat in the parlor staring listlessly out of the
window.  When she saw Michael, her face lit up and she ran out of the house and
down the lane.  Maggie ran after her mother.  Michael saw Lucy ran toward her,
and when they met, he lifted Lucy in his arms and spun her around.

Maggie hung back.  She heard footsteps behind her
and turned.

Tess and James stood behind her.  Tess squeezed Maggie's
shoulder gently.  “Go to your father, child.”

“I’m afraid of him.”  Maggie blurted out the words
before she could stop them.

James and Tess exchanged a look over her head.  Gently,
James grasped her shoulders and turned her to face him.  “You were afraid to
ride, too.  Weren’t you?”

Maggie nodded.

“It’ll be all right.  I’m right here.”  He regarded
her solemnly.

Maggie looked away from her grandfather.  She
remembered the night her father came home.  She remembered the loud words, the
arguments, the hitting.  Her stomach ached.  She turned back to James.  “I don’t
want to!”

James gathered her into his arms.  “Give your father
a chance.  Will you do that for me?”

Maggie nodded.  James released her.  She turned and
walked slowly down the path to her parents.  Her father looked pale and thin.

He smiled at her wanly.  “Hello—Maggie.”

“Hello, Papa.”

His smile faded.  “You’ve grown.”

Maggie nodded.  She swallowed hard.  Her heart
pounded in her chest.

Michael went down on one knee to her.  “Maggie, I’m
sorry.  I’m sorry I hurt you.  I’m sorry I frightened you.  Can you forgive me?”

Those were the words she had waited so long to
hear.  Tears filled her eyes, and she put her arms around her father’s neck.  “Yes,
Papa.”

Her father hugged her back.

“Can we stay here, Papa?  Can we?”

Michael tilted her chin up.  His face was solemn.  “We’ll
have to, for a little while.  Until I get on my feet again.”

Maggie nodded.  She turned and ran back to her
grandparents.  “We can stay!  We can stay!”

James smiled, but his smile did not reach his eyes.

*  *  *

For one month, Michael helped Maggie clean the
stables and mend fences and gather in the vegetables from the truck garden and
pick apples.  Then, they all went to the harvest dance.

The night of the dance, Maggie heard James arguing
with Lucy.

“Father, I think this is a mistake.  There will be
cider there, you know.”

“I know.  But I’ll be there, too.”  James sighed.  “This
is for Maggie.  You’ve heard the rumors, Lucy.  It would mean a lot if you
showed up with your husband on your arm.”

“I don’t want to associate with those people!”

“No, Lucy.  He’s right.  I think we should go.” 
Michael’s voice was firm, but he didn’t sound angry like he used to.

Maggie felt thrilled.  She pressed her dress and
began to look forward to the dance.

They all drove together in the wagon.  The night was
cold and clear, and the stars twinkled in a jet-black sky.  Maggie sighed
happily.

The dance was held at the grange hall in the center
of the town.  The band was just tuning up just as they arrived.  Michael helped
Lucy out of the wagon, and James lifted Tess.  She smiled at him briefly, but
she watched her son-in-law with concern.

Maggie started to climb down, but James held out his
hand.  Smiling, she let him hand her down from the wagon, just like Cinderella
and the Prince.

The band played a reel.  Michael and Lucy danced
together, and Maggie tapped her foot.  The next dance was a waltz, and James
danced with Tess.  Once again, Maggie envied the way they looked at each other.

Michael started toward the refreshment table, but
Lucy cut him off.  She shook her head.  For a moment, anger twisted his
handsome features into the familiar mask of hatred.  Then, he drew a deep breath
and smiled faintly.  He held out his arm and escorted Lucy onto the dance
floor.

Maggie breathed a sigh of relief.

On the way home, James turned around and smiled at
Michael.  “Thank you,” he said quietly.

Michael nodded and looked away.

That night, Maggie lay awake a long time.  Finally,
she picked up Martha.  “Tomorrow, I’m going to ask Grandfather to teach me how
to dance,” she whispered.  She fell asleep remembering the sound of the music. 

“No!”  Michael’s cry woke her.  Maggie threw off the
covers and ran to her parents’ room.

Lucy held Michael in her arms, but his eyes were
wide and staring, as if he did not see the lace curtains or Maggie or even his
wife.

James came in.  He looked at Maggie sharply.  “You
shouldn’t be here.”  He took her hand and led her down the stairs to the
kitchen.  Tess fixed her a glass of warm milk.  Her grandparents sat with her
while she drank it.

Maggie sipped.  She regarded her grandfather
solemnly.  “What’s wrong with my father?  Is he crazy?”

James shook his head.  “I’ve seen this before.  My
father was like that sometimes.  He wintered in Valley Forge, and it haunted
him the rest of his life.”

Maggie nodded.  “How can I help him?”

James smiled.  “It’s just like Rosalind, Maggie. 
Give him time.”

Maggie nodded.  “Would the whiskey help him?”