Spring Blossom (37 page)

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Authors: Jill Metcalf

Tags: #romance, #family, #historical, #romance novel, #heart of america

BOOK: Spring Blossom
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“Well,” she drawled, resting her shoulder
against the wooden frame. “And I thought playing in the attic was
reserved for rainy days.”

Maggie struggled to sit upright, but Hunter
lounged on the steps, shaking his head with wry disappointment.

“We were locked in here,” Maggie said
primary in the face of the other woman’s knowing smile.

“Uh-huh.”

“We were,” Maggie returned, trying with
little success not to blush. “There’s the doorknob on the
step.”

Marie-Louise gave the hardware a suspicious
glance. “What were you doing up here anyway?”

“We were fetching a cradle,” Hunter put
in.

When no such item caught her gaze in the
immediate area, Marie-Louise shot him a taunting grin.

Hunter could deal with the woman’s teasing,
but Maggie was still blushing. “Jeffrey will have to help carry it
down,” she said, hiding her face in the act of getting to her feet.
Hunter pushed on her back and then stood beside her. “I mean,
really, Marie-Louise,” Maggie continued as she stepped through the
open door. “We’re going to have two babies in this house soon, and
it’s time we started to prepare a nursery for them.”

Marie-Louise winked wickedly at Hunter and
drawled, “Uh-huh.”

Maggie laughed then, giving in to the
woman’s penchant for good-natured teasing. Raising her eyes toward
the ceiling, she said, “I believe I hear rain.”

 

 

 

CHAPTER 28

Spring was the most colorful and wonderful
time of year at Treemont. Magnolias blossomed large and pink and
white and the sweet bouquet of honey-suckle seasoned the air in the
early evening hours. The lawns, along with the fields Hunter had
chosen to use as pasture turned rich green, carpeting the earth for
miles around. Trees blossomed and budded and would soon shade the
house with new leaves.

It was Maggie’s favorite time. When she
could persuade Hunter to abandon his work for a short while, her
slow gentle pace would inevitably lead them to the orchard. They
would walk slowly among the trees, taking in the sweet scent of
blossoms as they talked softly of private things, of hopes and
dreams that had melded into mutual desires over the short span of
their marriage.

“When I was very young I used to love
walking here, particularly during springtime,” Maggie said one day
as they skirted an apple tree. “Then for a while I stopped
coming.”

“Did you, Maggie?” he asked softly.
“Why?”

Maggie frowned as she considered his
question. “I’m not certain why,” she said, tipping her head to look
up at him. “But during the time I was most unhappy I avoided this
place. Strange,” she added thoughtfully, “because it would have
reminded me of happier times and I might have felt better.”

Hunter stopped walking and turned her until
they were facing each other. “And does it remind you of happier
times now?” he asked as he placed the palm of his hand against her
cheek. The loving look she sent him in the instant was one he would
never forget.

“Hunter, I’ve had no happier times that
those I’ve spent with you.”

*

March gave way to April, the days warmed and
the sun shone between the soft showers that replenished the earth
and nurtured all that grew. The new barn was complete now. The old
one and the exterior of the house had received fresh coats of
paint, and preparations for Pride’s debut intensified.

Denise often came to help Maggie and
Marie-Louise during these days. Tim frequently drove her to
Treemont and left her there while he made is rounds of visiting the
sick. He had long ago explained to his young wife the burden Hunter
and Maggie were sharing over the fate of Treemont. Denise had
denied the information out of hand, claiming Tim must be mistaken.
But as they discussed the matter further, it became obvious to her
that Hunter had taken her husband into his confidence. Everything
Tim had told her was totally incredible, but true.

Denise joined ranks with her sister then,
throwing herself into any task that gave the less-than-agile women
difficulty.

“Have we done all that needs doing?” Denise
asked on the Friday before the event.

Maggie sipped her tea and nodded her head.
“We’ll make some small cakes tomorrow, but everything else is
ready.” Her hand dropped back to her lap then, weaving a fine
needle through a piece of delicate pale blue cloth.

“It’s beautiful, Maggie,” Denise said, her
eyes roaming over the high cradle at Maggie’s side. “But how can
you be so certain you’re having a boy?”

“I want all boys.”

Denis frowned. “Why, for heaven’s sake?”

“Because boys are better equipped to look
after themselves,” Maggie explained easily. “Although Hunter knows
a few tricks to help a girl fend for herself.”

“That’s silly, Mag,” Denise admonished, her
frown deepening when Maggie raised serious eyes to her sister.
“Have you talked to Hunter about the way you feel?”

“Hunter would understand,” Maggie said
firmly and returned her attention to her sewing.

“You can’t be sure you’ll have boys.”

“I realize that.”

Denise was clearly baffled by this attitude;
it seemed extreme, to say the least, particularly for a woman who
had been raised with three sisters.

Suddenly an old nagging question returned to
the younger sister’s mind…a question she had never been certain she
wanted answered. But perhaps the answer was the reasoning behind
Maggie’s strange notion. Denise dropped to her knees and placed her
hand on Maggie’s arm. “I’ve wondered, Mag,” she whispered. “That
man who struck you…?”

Maggie took a deep breath, set her sewing
aside, and looked directly into Denise’s eyes. “It was wrong of me
to leave you wondering,” she said softly. “It was very wrong but so
difficult to talk about at the time. Papa seemed not to want it
mentioned…he seemed to think it best…” she faltered then. “The man
raped me, Denise.”

“Oh, God, Maggie,” Denise breathed and then
dropped her head to her sister’s lap, crying softly.

Maggie raised a hand and lightly stroked her
younger sister’s fine, soft hair as she looked into the
understanding eyes of her husband as he entered the room. “But it
doesn’t matter anymore,” she said quietly as she and Hunter
continued to stare lovingly at each other. “Don’t you see, Dennie?”
she repeated, “it simply doesn’t matter anymore. It’s in my past
and I’ve had loving help to recover. And there is so much more in
my future.”

*

Sunday dawned bright and beautifully warm
and Maggie suggested they set the wooden lawn chairs on the grass
in front of the house. A flock of small tables were also brought
out. Here the guests could mingle and chat before the men strolled
off to the paddock where Pride would be strutting free for their
scrutiny, and to view the various facilities. The day was simply
too perfect to spend indoors.

Tim and Denise arrived early in the morning,
bringing with them some very good news.

“I’ve had two inquiries about this service
of yours,” Tim said to Hunter.

Both Hunter and Maggie were thrilled by
this. “Really?” Hunter asked. “By whom?”

“Two of my patients who know we are related.
They will both be here this afternoon, apparently, and I understand
they’ve spread the word. I’ll introduce you once they arrive.”

Hunter smiled at his wife, who was glowing
with health and anticipation. “That’s an encouraging start,” he
said, putting an arm around her shoulders.

“I hope Pride lives up to his name,” Maggie
said, the words slipping out innocently. She colored lightly as the
men laughed at her wide-eyed dismay. How could she have alluded to
‘passion’ within earshot of three men?

But then Jeffrey announced that he thought
he heard the wheels of a carriage approaching and Maggie, nor the
others, gave anymore thought to her indiscretion.

Treemont took on a festive air as the
afternoon progressed. Looking exceptionally lovely in a
high-waisted gown of summer blue, white stockings, and soft, pale
blue slippers, Maggie wandered across the lawns, chatting with
ladies of old and new acquaintance. Jennifer seemed happy running
back and forth to fetch iced tea and lemonade for the guests while
Florence moved more quietly at a much more dignified pace, offering
cakes and delicate sandwiches from the tray she carried.

At one point, Hunter passed close behind
Florence, who had just celebrated her fourteenth birthday and
paused to take a sandwich. “You look exceptionally lovely today,
Florence,” he said, and she smiled with barely a hint of a blush.
“But don’t let any of these young bucks turn your head just yet. We
want to enjoy your company for a few more years.” He touched her
cheek lightly with his fingertips and moved away. Florence’s smile
became a bit brighter as she moved among the women; she knew she
was becoming a more confident person because of Hunter and Maggie
and the attention they showered upon her…and she loved them both
all the more for their understanding.

Carriages, phaetons, and other vehicles
arrived and departed throughout the afternoon, and Maggie had no
opportunity to question Hunter about the success of the day. He
would appear across the lawn talking with a group of men and would
then stroll off with them toward the barns and paddocks.
Occasionally, throughout the long afternoon, she caught his eye and
he smiled or waved a greeting, but they were both caught up in
their individual roles.

Marie-Louise had chosen not to join the
festivities, claiming she would be uncomfortable waddling amongst
the guest. Besides, she knew that if she sat down in one of those
deep-seated lawn chairs, she would never be able to get up. Instead
she spent a relatively quiet afternoon in the kitchen, refilling
trays with the cakes and sandwiches they had prepared.

Late in the afternoon Maggie returned to the
kitchen bearing two empty trays and found Marie-Louise leaning
heavily against one of the counters. After quickly setting the
trays down, she dashed to the other woman’s side.

“Are you all right?”

Marie-Louise smiled grimly and nodded her
head, but Maggie took a good look in time to see the woman grimace
and instantly understood.

“Marie-Louise, don’t you dare,” she
demanded. “Not today.”

“You should have mentioned that about six
hours ago, Maggie,” she suggested and straightened, gripping the
small of her back with one hand.

“Oh, my God.”

“Well,” she drawled, “let’s look on the
bright side of this. If you tell all of those people what’s going
on, they’ll think there’s something prolific about Treemont and
Hunter will get more contracts signed.”

Maggie could only laugh at the woman’s wit.
“You are something, Marie-Louise,” she said. “I think we should get
you upstairs to your room.”

“You’re not strong enough to help me up
those stairs, Maggie. I think you’d best get my Jeff.”

Maggie nodded her head and helped her friend
into a chair before dashing back outside.

Jeffrey went into a flip and charged into
the house leaving Maggie standing alone halfway between the new
barn and the house.

Hunter had watched his friend leave on the
run and approached Maggie quickly. “Don’t tell me,” he
whispered.

Maggie grinned.

“Well, what should we do?” he asked
helplessly.

She laughed then. “Darling, this is the
first time since I’ve known you that you’ve to fail to know exactly
what to do under any circumstance.”

“Well,” he returned, chagrined, “this
doesn’t happen every day.”

“It will happen, one way or another, if your
plan works,” she teased and rose up on tiptoe to plant a kiss on
his cheek. “Go sign those contracts, dear husband.” And she left
him standing there while she went in search of Tim

Chaos seemed to rein supreme for hours after
that.

Tim and Denise shooed Maggie away from the
second floor.

“But I can help,” Maggie said unhappily.
“I’m her friend. I should be with her.”

Denise turned her sister by a shoulder.
“She’s got Jeffrey and she’s got us,” she said. “Now scoot.”

Maggie took one look at the nervous,
perspiring man and doubted that anyone should rely upon Jeffrey at
that moment. The brief, hesitant look she flashed over her shoulder
made Denise laugh.

“It’s all right. Get on with you.”

Maggie found Hunter in a condition similar
to Jeffrey’s…pacing the parlor floor. “Not you, too,” she said.

He turned at the sound of her voice. “How is
she?”

“Are you going to be like this when our baby
comes?”

He grinned. “Worse.”

Maggie laughed and clutched his arm. “Have
the last of the guests gone?” she asked.

Hunter nodded his head and somehow his
foolish grin turned to one of triumph.

Maggie’s heart bumped against her ribs, and
the baby kicked her solidly for her lack of consideration. “Tell
me,” she breathed.

Hunter reached inside his coat and withdrew
five folded pieces of paper from his vest pocket. “And possibly two
more will sign later this week.”

Maggie’s eyes widened as she stared at the
contracts in his hands. And then she dared to ask the question that
could mean the life or death of Treemont. “Will it be enough?”

Her eyes rose slowly to those of her
husband, and he was smiling, slowly nodding his head.

“It’s a damned good start, little one,” he
said. “I think we’ll make it.”

“It’s a boy!” Jeffrey bellowed from the top
of the stairs.

Hunter looked upward just as Maggie rose up
on tiptoe and wrapped her arms around his neck.

“You did it!” she cried.

“I did not.”

“I meant you saved Treemont,” she cried
again, laughing now.

“We did it, Maggie,” he said, hugging her
close and setting humor aside. “All of us.”

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