Maggie's Dad Page 8

  She slid down against the tree into the dirt, getting her jeans filthy. Mrs. Bates, the housekeeper, would rage and fuss about that, and she didn’t care. Mrs. Bates had thrown away most of her clothes, complaining that they were too dirty to come clean. She hadn’t told her dad. When she ran out of clothes, maybe somebody would notice.

  She wished Mrs. Bates liked her. Julie did, when she wasn’t fawning over teachers to make them give her special privileges. She liked Julie, she did, but Julie was a kiss-up. Sometimes she wondered why she let Julie be her friend at all. She didn’t need any friends. She could make it all by herself. She’d show them all that she was somebody special. She’d make them love her one day. She sighed and closed her eyes. Oh, if only she knew Julie’s secret; if only she knew how to make people like her.

  “There’s Maggie,” Julie commented, grimacing as she glanced toward her friend. “Nobody likes her except me,” she confided to Miss Hayes. “She beats up the boys and she can bat and catch better than any of them, so they don’t like her. And the girls think she’s too rough to play with. I sort of feel sorry for her. She says her daddy doesn’t like her. He’s always going away somewhere. She stays with us when he’s gone, only she doesn’t want to this week because—” She stopped, as if she was afraid she’d already said too much.

  “Because?” Antonia prompted curiously.

  “Oh, nothing,” Julie said. She couldn’t tell Miss Hayes that she’d fought with Maggie over their new teacher. “Anyway, Maggie mostly stays with us if her dad’s away longer than overnight.”

  Involuntarily, Antonia glanced toward the child and found her watching them with those cold, sullen eyes. The memories came flooding back—Sally jealous of Antonia’s pretty face, jealous of Antonia’s grades, jealous of Antonia having any other girlfriends, jealous…of her with Powell.

  She shivered faintly and looked away from the child. God forgive her, it was just too much. She wondered if she could possibly get Maggie transferred to another class. If she couldn’t then there was no other option. The only teaching job available was the one she had. She couldn’t wait for another opening. Her eyes closed. She was running out of time. Why, she asked herself, why was she wasting it like this? She’d told herself she was coming home to cope with her memories, but they were too much for her. She couldn’t fight the past. She couldn’t even manage to get through the present. She had to consider how she would face the future.

  “Miss Hayes?”

  Her eyes opened. Julie was looking worried. “Are you all right?” the little girl asked, concerned.

  “I’m tired, that’s all,” Antonia said, smiling. “We’d better go in now.”

  She called the class and led them back into the building.

  Maggie was worse than ever for the rest of the day. She talked back, refused to do a chore assigned to her, ignored Antonia when she was called on in class. And at the end of the day, she waited until everyone else left and came back into the room, to stand glaring at Antonia from the doorway.

  “My dad says he wishes you’d go away and never come back,” she said loudly. “He says you make his life miserable, and that he can’t stand the sight of you! He says you make him sick!”

  Antonia’s face flushed and she looked stunned.

  Maggie turned and ran out the door. Her father had said something like that, to himself, and it made her feel much better that she’d told Miss Hayes about it. That had made her look sick, all right! And it wasn’t a lie. Well, not a real lie. It was just something to make her feel as bad as Maggie had felt when Miss Hayes looked at her on the playground and shuddered. She knew the teacher didn’t like her. She didn’t care. She didn’t like Miss Hayes, either.

  Maggie was smug the next day. She didn’t have any more parting shots for Antonia, and she did her work in class. But she refused to do her homework, again, and dared Antonia to give her a zero. She even dared her to send a note home to her father.

  Antonia wanted to call her bluff, but she was feeling sicker by the day and it was increasingly hard for her to get up in the mornings and go to work at all. The illness was progressing much more quickly than she’d foreseen. And Maggie was making her life hell.

  For the rest of the week, Antonia thought about the possibility of getting Maggie moved out of her class. Surely she could approach the principal in confidence.

  And that was what she did, after school.

  Mrs. Jameson smiled ruefully when Antonia sat down beside her desk and hesitated.

  “You’re here about Maggie Long again,” she said at once.

  Antonia’s eyes widened. “Why…yes.”

  “I was expecting you,” the older woman said with resignation. “Mrs. Donalds got along quite well with her, but she’s the only teacher in the past few years who hasn’t had trouble with Maggie. She’s a rebel, you see. Her father travels a good deal. Maggie is left with Julie’s family.” She grimaced. “We heard that he was thinking of marrying again, but once that rumor started, Maggie ran away from home. She, uh, isn’t keen on the widow Holton.”

  Antonia was wondering if anyone was keen about the widow Holton, from what she’d already heard from Barrie. It was a surprise to hear that Powell had considered marrying the woman—if it was true and not just gossip.

  The principal sighed, her attention returning to the task at hand. “You want Maggie moved, I suppose. I wish I could oblige you, but we only have one fourth-grade class, because this is such a small school, and you’re teaching it.” She lifted her hands helplessly. “There it is. I’m really sorry. Perhaps if you spoke with her father?”

  “I already have,” Antonia replied calmly.

  “And he said…?”

  “That if I pushed him, he’d do his best to have me removed from my position here,” she said bluntly.

  The older woman pursed her lips. “Well, as we’ve already discussed, he wouldn’t have to work that hard to do it. It’s a rather ticklish situation. I’m sorry I can’t be more optimistic.”

  Antonia leaned back in her seat with a long sigh. “I shouldn’t have come back to Bighorn,” she said, almost to herself. “I don’t know why I did.”

  “Perhaps you were looking for something.”

  “Something that no longer exists,” Antonia replied absently. “A lost part of my life that I won’t find here.”

  “You are going to stay, aren’t you?” Mrs. Jameson asked. “After this school term, I mean. Your students say wonderful things about you. Especially Julie Ames,” she added with a grin.

  “I went to school with her father,” Antonia confessed. “To this school, as a matter of fact. She’s just like her dad.”

  “I’ve met him, and she is a lot like him. What a pity all our students can’t be as energetic and enthusiastic as our Julie.”

  “Yes, indeed.”

  “Well, I’ll give you all the moral support I can,” Mrs. Jameson continued. “We do have a very good school counselor. We’ve sent Maggie to her several times, but she won’t say a word. We’ve had the counselor talk to Mr. Long, but he won’t say a word, either. It’s a difficult situation.”

  “Perhaps it will work itself out,” Antonia replied.

  “Do think about staying on,” the older woman said seriously.

  Antonia couldn’t promise that. She forced a smile. “I’ll certainly think about it,” she agreed.

  But once out of the principal’s office, she was more depressed than ever. Maggie hated her, and obviously would not cooperate. It was only a matter of time before she had to give Maggie a failing grade for her noneffort, and Powell would either come back for some more heated words or get her fired. She didn’t know if she could bear another verbal tug-of-war with him, especially after the last one. And as for getting fired, she wondered if that really mattered anymore. At the rate her health was failing, it wasn’t going to matter for much longer, anyway.

  She wandered back to her schoolroom and found Powell sitting on the edge of her desk, looking prosperous in a d
ark gray suit and a red tie, with a gray Stetson and hand-tooled leather boots that complemented his suit. He was wearing the same signet ring on his little finger that he’d worn when they were engaged, a script letter L. The ring was very simple, 10K gold and not very expensive. His mother had given it to him when he graduated from high school, and Antonia knew how hard the woman had had to work to pay for it. The Rolex watch on his left wrist was something he’d earned for himself. The Longs had never had enough money at any time in their lives to pay for a watch like that. She wondered if Powell ever thought back to those hard days of his youth.

  He heard her step and turned his head to watch her enter the classroom. In her tailored beige dress, with her blond hair in a bun, she looked thinner than ever and very dignified.

  “How you’ve changed,” he remarked involuntarily.

  “I was thinking the same thing about you,” she said wearily. She sat down behind the desk, because just the walk to the office had made her tired. She looked up at him with the fatigue in her face. “I really need to go home. I know why you’re here. She can’t be moved to another class, because there isn’t one. The only alternative is for me to leave….”

  “That isn’t why I came,” he said, surprised.

  “No?”

  He picked up a paper clip from the desk and looked at it intently. “I thought you might have something to eat with me,” he said. “We could talk about Maggie.”

  She was nauseated and trying not to let it overwhelm her. She barely heard him. “What?”

  “I said, let’s get together tonight,” he repeated, frowning. “You look green. Put your head down.”

  She turned sideways and lowered her head to the hands resting on her knees, sucking in air. She felt nauseous more and more these days, and faint. She didn’t know how much longer she was going to be mobile. The thought frightened her. She would have to make arrangements to get on with the therapy, while there was still time. It was one thing to say that dying didn’t matter, but it was quite another when the prospect of it was staring her in the face.

  “You’re damn thin.” He bit off the words. “Have you seen a doctor?”

  “If one more person asks me that…!” She erupted. She took another breath and lifted her head, fighting the dizziness as she pushed back a wisp of hair from her eyes. “Yes, I’ve seen a doctor. I’m just run-down. It’s been a hard year.”

  “Yes, I know,” he said absently, watching her.

  She met his concerned eyes. If she’d been less feeble, she might have wondered at the expression in them. As it was, she was too tired to care.

  “Maggie’s been giving everyone fits,” he said unexpectedly. “I know you’re having trouble with her. I thought if we put our heads together, we might come up with some answers.”

  “I thought my opinion didn’t matter,” she replied dully.

  He averted his gaze. “I’ve had a lot on my mind,” he said noncommittally. “Of course your opinion matters. We need to talk.”

  She wanted to ask what good he thought it would do to talk, when he’d told his daughter that he was sick of Miss Hayes and wanted her out of town because she was making his life miserable. She wasn’t going to mention that. It would be like tattling. But it hurt more than anything else had in recent days.

  “Well?” he persisted impatiently.

  “Very well. What time shall I meet you, and where?”

  The question seemed to surprise him. “I’ll pick you up at your home, of course,” he said. “About six.”

  She really should refuse. She looked into his dark eyes and knew that she couldn’t. One last date, she was thinking sadly. She could have one last date with him before the ordeal began….

  She managed a smile. “All right.”

  He watched her sort out the papers on her desk and put them away methodically. His eyes were on her hands, on the unusual thinness of them. She looked unwell. Her mother’s death surely had affected her, but this seemed much more than worry. She was all but skeletal.

  “I’ll see you at six,” she said when she’d put up the classroom and walked out into the hall with him.

  He looked down at her, noting her frailty, her slenderness. He still towered over her, as he had years before. She was twenty-seven, but his eyes saw a vivacious, loving girl of eighteen. What had happened to change her whole personality so drastically? She was an old soul in a young body. Had he caused all that?

  She glanced up at him curiously. “Was there something else?”

  He shrugged. “Maggie showed me an A on her homework paper.”

  “I didn’t give her the grade,” she replied. “She earned it. It was good work.”

  He stuck his hands into his pockets. “She has a bright mind, when she wants to use it.” His eyes narrowed. “I said some harsh things the last time I was here. Now’s as good a time as any to apologize. I was out of line.” He couldn’t go further and admit that Maggie had lied to him. He was still raw, as Antonia surely was, about Sally’s lies. It was too much to admit that his daughter was a liar as well.

  “Most parents who care about their children would have challenged a zero,” she said noncommittally.

  “I haven’t been much of a parent,” he said abruptly. “I’ll see you at six.”

  She watched him with sad eyes as he walked away, the sight of his long back reminding her poignantly of the day he’d ended their engagement.

  He paused at the door, sensing her eyes, and he turned unexpectedly to stare at her. It was so quick that she didn’t have time to disguise her grief. He actually winced, because he knew that she’d looked like that nine years ago. He hadn’t looked back, so he hadn’t known.

  She drew in a steadying breath and composed her features. She didn’t say anything. There was nothing to say that he hadn’t already read in her face.

  He started to speak, but apparently he couldn’t find the words, either.

  “At six,” she repeated.

  He nodded, and this time he went through the doorway.

  Chapter Six

  Antonia went through every dress she had in her closet before she settled on a nice but simple black crepe dress with short sleeves and a modest neckline. It reached just below her knees and although it had once fit her very nicely, it now hung on her. She had nothing that looked the right size. But it was cold and she could wear a coat over it, the one good leather one she’d bought last season on sale. It would cover the dress and perhaps when she was seated, it wouldn’t look so big on her. She paired the dress with a thin black leather belt, gold stud earrings and a small gold cross that her mother had given her when she graduated from high school. She wore no other jewelry, except for the serviceable watch on her wrist. She saw the engagement ring that Powell had bought for her, a very modest little diamond in a thin gold setting. She’d sent it back to him, but he’d refused to accept it from her father. It had found its way back to her, and she kept it here in her jewelry box, the only keepsake she had except for the small cross she always wore.

  She picked the ring up and looked at it with sad gray eyes. How different her life, and Powell’s, might have been if he hadn’t jumped to conclusions and she hadn’t run away.

  She put the ring back into the box, into the past, where it belonged, and closed it up. This would be the last time she’d go out with Powell. He only wanted to talk about Maggie. If he was serious about the widow Holton, of whom she’d heard so much, then this would certainly not be an occasion he’d want to repeat. And even if he asked, Antonia knew that she would have to refuse a second evening out with him. Her heart was still all too vulnerable. But for tonight, she took special care with her makeup and left her blond hair long around her shoulders. Even thin, she looked good. She hoped Powell would think so.

  She sat in the living room with her curious but silent father, waiting for the clock to chime six. He had ten minutes left to make it on time. Powell had been very punctual in the old days. She wondered if he still was.

  �
�Nervous?” her father asked gently.

  She smiled and nodded. “I don’t know why he wanted to take me out to talk about Maggie. We could have talked here, or at school.”

  He smoothed a hand over his boot, crossed over his other leg. “Maybe he’s trying to make things up with you.”

  “I doubt that,” she replied. “I hear he’s been spending time with the widow Holton….”

  “So has Dawson. But love isn’t the reason. They both want her south pasture. It borders on both of theirs.”

  “Oh. Everybody says she’s very pretty.”

  “So she is. But Dawson won’t have anything to do with women in a romantic way, and Powell is playing her along.”

  “I heard that he was talking marriage.”

  “Did you?” He frowned. “Well…that’s surprising.”

  “Mrs. Jameson said his daughter ran away when she thought he was going to marry Mrs. Holton.”

  Her father shook his head. “I’m not surprised. That child doesn’t get along with anyone. She’ll end up in jail one day if he doesn’t keep a better eye on her.”

  She traced a pattern in the black crepe purse that matched her dress. “I haven’t been quite fair to her,” she confessed. “She’s so much like Sally.” She grimaced. “She must miss her.”

  “I doubt it. Her mother left her with any available babysitter and stayed on the road until the drinking started taking its toll on her. She never was much of a driver. That’s probably why she went into the river.”

  Into the river. Antonia remembered hearing about the accident on the news. Powell had been rich enough that Sally’s tragic death made headlines. She’d felt sorry for him, but she hadn’t gone to the funeral. There was no point. She and Sally had been enemies for so long. For so long.

  The sound of a car in the driveway interrupted her musings. She got up and reached the door just as Powell knocked.

  She felt embarrassed when she saw how he was dressed. He was wearing jeans and a flannel shirt with a heavy denim jacket and old boots. If she was surprised, so was he. She looked very elegant in that black dress and the dark leather coat she wore with it.