Spring Blossom (27 page)

“You’re lovely here, too,” he whispered.
“See how you respond to me, little one?” he asked. He raised his
eyes to her and smiled the smile of one drunk on passion. “I think
we had better stop now,” he added huskily. “And I think I had
better head for the creek for a swim in the cold water.”

He left her standing there, chagrined over
having allowed his hands to be on her and confused by his hasty
retreat. What did one say after moments like those just past?

*

They went on for days and weeks. Hunter was
relentless in his pursuit of her, sexually and otherwise. He
teased, he cajoled, and he became bolder each time he touched her.
Margaret soon became a quaking mass of nervous tension. A kind of
tension that was completely foreign to her. And it was driving her
mad!

“What the devil is wrong with you?”
Marie-Louise asked as they worked in the heat of a noonday sun over
a steaming caldron of wash water.

Margaret straightened up from stirring the
heavy clothes to brush a lock of hair back from her damp face.

“Have you got the curse or some other
problem?” Marie-Louise snapped. “I’d like to know so when you boss
me around I can either sympathize with you or tell you to go to
hell!”

That caught Margaret’s full attention and
she seemed to wilt as she stroked her damp brow with the palm of
one hand “I’m sorry,” she said softly. “I didn’t mean to take it
out on you.”

“It?” Marie-Louise returned. “Do you want to
talk about it?”

Margaret merely shook her head and stared at
her new friend in such hopeless misery that Mare-Louise was forced
to relent. “I’m sorry,” she sighed, dropping a dripping bed sheet
back into the tub. “Let's get something cool to drink.” She placed
a damp hand on Margaret’s shoulder and guided her toward the
kitchen door.

A pitcher of chilled lemonade appeared
magically from the root cellar, and Marie-Louise dampened two small
cloths before they sat down at the table. “Now tell me what this is
all about,” she muttered around the cool cloth as she slowly
stroked her face.

Margaret did likewise, feeling relieved of a
great deal of grime as she took the cloth away. “There’s nothing to
tell,” she said, crossing her arms beneath her breasts, presenting
what she thought was a firm mien; she wasn’t talking and that was
that.

Her companion sat upright in the facing
chair. “There is, too,” Marie-Louise said forcefully. “And don’t
you lie, Maggie Maguire, or you’ll turn into a toad!”

Margaret couldn’t help but laugh at that.
“Where do you get such notions?”

“Never you mind where I get them,” the other
woman said sternly, reaching for her glass. “You’d best unload your
mind before you pop a blood vessel.”

Margaret stared at her friend, whom she had
often secretly envied in the weeks past, and took a long sip of
lemonade. Marie-Louise always seemed so free and easy with her
Jeffrey, never concerned if others were around when they stared at
each other with longing or touched or even kissed quickly. Hunter
stared and touched, but it only made Margaret want to jump right
out of her skin.

Finally Margaret conceded that she did need
to talk with someone and if not this young woman who had become her
friend, then who? Hunter? Hardly. Finally she asked, “Do you mind
making love with Jeffrey?” She lowered her head to hide the slow
creeping warmth that spread from her neck upward and studied her
glass.

“Mind?” Marie-Louise laughed, clearly taken
aback. “What a funny question.”

Margaret was now mortified that she had
posed such a question. When a soft moan of distress escaped her,
Marie-Louise immediately sobered, sensing the issue was causing
serious turmoil for her friend. She reached across the table and
placed her hand gently on Margaret’s forearm. “What is it, Maggie?
Can you tell me?”

Margaret took a deep breath and straightened
in her chair. Her eyes then sought out those of her companion were
deeply troubled. “I…do you like Jeffrey’s lovemaking?” she finally
sputtered.

“Very much,” Marie-Louise responded, at the
same time her mind was wondering what could be wrong with Hunter’s
lovemaking; surely nothing! “I like it very much.”

“Don’t you ever resent that a man can make
such demands on you at his whim?”

Marie-Louise blinked in surprise. “Demands?”
This situation was turning around; she began to suspect the problem
was not with Hunter Maguire.

Margaret was now nodding her head,
insistently. “Yes, demands. It’s all they want, after all.”

“Oh, my God, Maggie,” Marie-Louise breathed.
“What has happened to you? How did you come to think this way?”

“Nothing has happened,” she lied. “And, my
way of thinking only makes sense if women only knew.”

‘If women only knew’, was a key indicator to
Marie-Louise that something in Maggie’s history was very wrong. “If
women only knew,” she whispered. “Maggie, why would I resent my
husband showing me how much he loves me? Why would I resent feeling
special every time he touches me? Demands? There are no demands
between lovers. If Jeffrey ever made demands that were not to my
liking, I would simply say ‘no’ and he would respect that. And he
would respect my wishes because he loves me.”

Margaret, however, had latched onto just one
word; “Special?”

“Every time,” Marie-Louise admitted. “As
many times as he wants me, I want him, too. And he always makes me
feel special.”

Margaret frowned at that, staring down at
the hand the covered hers now. “But that’s all men want,” she said
again. “How can you not resent that?”

“Do you really believe that’s all Mr.
Maguire wants from you?”

Margaret nodded her head.

“I think you’ve lost your faculties,”
Marie-Louise said at last. “That man is crazy about you.”

“And that is precisely what I mean.”

“And I’ll throw in stupid,” Marie-Louise
exclaimed for good measure. “That man loves you.”

“That’s impossible.”

“Why is that impossible?” Then she watched
for the next several breaths as a myriad of emotions stole across
Margaret’s face. “So,” she whispered, confirming her previous
suspicions. “The problem isn’t with him.” She took a drink of
lemonade and then studied a trickle of condensation as it ran down
the glass, before adding, “The problem is with you.”

Margaret’s eyes narrowed. “My problem is
him.”

“I don’t think so,” Marie-Louise returned
thoughtfully. “The problem seems to be that you don’t like what he
does to you. Is that it?”

“As I said, I resent the control he has over
me.”

Marie-Louise thought that one statement
contained more information than a grammar school textbook. “So you
resent him, and you think all he wants from you is sex. You can’t
believe he loves you,” she added, warming to her topic. “’As I
said’, that man is so much in love with you he’s walking around
bumping into doors. You know, I like you Maggie, but you can be a
hard woman sometimes. Now, I figure you don’t like being that way
‘cause I’ve seen you moping around and thinking deep thoughts, and
I guess you haven’t been very happy. But if you resent him so much,
you answer me this; how would you feel if something happened to Mr.
Maguire? How would you feel if he got sick and died and you didn’t
have him anymore? How would you feel if he stopped loving you and
he went looking for someone else? What would you do then? How would
you feel? You answer me those questions and I’ll tell you just how
much you resent him.”

The two women stared at each other, both
troubled but for very different reasons. When she could no longer
hide her anxiety, Margaret covered her face with both hands. “I
don’t know what to do,” she chocked.

“He’s a fine man, Maggie.”

“Yes.”

“You like him?”

Margaret nodded her head.

“You respect him?”

“Y-yes.”

“And all this talk about resentment…?”

Lowering her hands to the table, Margaret
worried the damp cloth with her fingers, bowing her head as she
organized her thoughts. “I didn’t want to marry him, you see. I
didn’t want to leave my home. And then he and my father…well, they
controlled my destiny. I didn’t want to like Hunter, or any man for
that matter, but my mind keeps playing tricks and I find myself
looking to him for…I don’t know…all kinds of things. I haven’t
wanted him to make love to me.” She darted a glance at the other
women then.

Stunned, Marie-Louise leaned forward and
whispered, “You haven’t wanted him to? You’re not telling me that
he hasn’t?”

Margaret nodded her head briefly and found
she suddenly could not look into her friend’s eyes.

“Oh, my God,” Marie-Louise breathed. “I
don’t believe it. You’re cheating yourself, Maggie. And him. All
this because you resent him?” she asked. If seemed impossible to
her that two people could live together and sleep together and care
for each other and not make love.

“It’s a little more involved than that,”
Margaret told her. “But now I want…I mean…I don’t know what I want.
I’m so confused, all the time.”

“You know what I think, Maggie?”
Marie-Louise asked, gently squeezing her friend’s hand. “I think
you just sort of slipped into loving him, and that’s got you scared
to death.” She smiled patiently when Margaret looked up, wide-eyed.
“Don’t you see? You didn’t go off you food and get knots in your
stomach and have your heart thumpin’, because you didn’t fall in
love head first all of a sudden, like I did. But I think you love
him, and you won’t let yourself admit it because you’re afraid he
won’t love you back. But that’s bunk. Everyone around here can see
he loves you, except you And I also think, whether you understand
it or not, you’re as frustrated as hell. You think about those
questions I asked you,” she pleaded, “because if you keep on this
way, Maggie, you’re going to lose him.”

A heavy silence fell between them as they
stared at each other until Margaret became uncomfortable. She
straightened in her chair and eased her hand free. “I’ll finish the
washing,” she said quietly.

Marie-Louise scowled. “You take yourself out
for a walk and do some thinking, my friend,” she said, pushing
Margaret toward the door. “And don’t you come back here until
you’ve resolved this one way or another ‘cause I’m sick of your
moping around.”

Margaret smiled at the chiding that should
have sounded firm but didn’t make it. “Thank you,” she said and
darted out the door.

*

She strolled past the kitchen garden toward
a lane that led to the planted fields beyond the barn. The day was
sultry; it hadn’t rained for weeks. The dirt track had dried to
dust, and she studied the small puffs that exploded around her
sturdy black shoes as she took each step. It seemed to her that she
was a lot like those puffs of dust much of the time, exploding and
then settling, only to explode again. And Marie-Louise had been
right; anger had resided with her for so long that she seldom had a
thought that was not colored by it. Anger had channeled her
thoughts into a narrow pattern, but she could see the wisdom of her
friend’s words. If she didn’t change her ways she could lose
Hunter. It was time to make up her mind and change her ways.

The lane wandered to the left once she
passed the barn, but Margaret could see all three men gathered at
the fence of the large paddock off to her right. Pride was running
free, striding in high form about the enclosure as the men watched.
Jeffrey disappeared into the barn just as Hunter turned and saw
her. He waved a greeting as he pushed off from the fence and walked
her way.

Margaret clasped her hands behind her back
and waited.

“Were you looking for me?” he asked as he
wiped perspiration from his brow.

She managed a smile and shook her head. “I
was just walking.”

Hunter looked disappointed. His eyes darted
toward the paddock and then returned to her. He was frowning
slightly. “I should warn you, Maggie. We’ve got a mare in heat, and
I want to put her in the paddock with Pride.”

Her eyes darted to where Jason stood at the
fence then rose to Hunter’s again.

“I thought with the other men around…”

“Yes,” she blurted. “I’ll walk farther on.”
She turned quickly, hearing the mare trumpeting as she was being
led from the barn.

Hunter’s hand latched onto her arm, however,
and he grinned when she looked over her shoulder at him. “You could
watch from the loft,” he teased.

Her brief frown of concentration
disappeared. “You remember that?”

He nodded. “I remember everything about
you,” he said softly, the intensity of his gaze made her decidedly
uncomfortable. He watched her eyes dart away then, knowing he had
frightened her. “You’d best go along, love,” he added softly.

Margaret nodded her head, turning her
attention to the winding lane. She’d best get along, she
thought.

Love?

CHAPTER 20

Two hours later Margaret stormed into the
kitchen and ran to the stove, halting at Marie-Louise’s side. Her
entrance was so thunderous that the other woman turned in alarm,
holding a spoon like a weapon, dripping gravy on the floor.

Staring at Margaret’s red face, Marie-Louise
looked quickly toward the door, saw nothing, and looked back at her
friend. “Is something chasing you?”

Margaret shook her head vigorously. “I need
your help,” she gulped, having left most of her breath out in the
distant cornfield.

“Of course,” Marie-Louis cried, growing
alarmed. “What on earth is wrong?”

“You have to teach me to cook before
suppertime.”

“What?”

“I need to make a special supper.” Margaret
took a deep cleansing breath and added, “For Hunter and me.”

Marie-Louise narrowed her eyes, waving the
spoon in agitation. “You mean you came charging in here like that
because you want to cook supper?”