Maggie's Dad (16 page)

She moved closer to the bed. “I'd rather call you Mom,” she said slowly. “If…you don't mind.”

Antonia smiled gently. “No, Maggie. I don't mind. I'd be very, very flattered.”

Maggie sighed. “My mother didn't want me,” she said in a world-weary way. “I thought it was my fault, that there was something wrong with me.”

“There's nothing wrong with you, darling,” Antonia said gently. “You're fine just the way you are.”

Maggie fought back tears. “Thanks.”

“Something's still wrong, isn't it?” she asked softly. “Can you tell me?”

Maggie looked at her feet. “Julie hugged you.”

“I like being hugged.”

She looked up. “You do?”

She smiled, nodding.

Maggie hesitated, but Antonia opened her arms, and the child went into them like a homing pigeon. It was incredible, this warm feeling she got from being close to people. First her own dad had hugged her, and now Antonia had. She couldn't remember a time when anyone had wanted to hug her.

She smiled against Antonia's warm shoulder and sighed.

Antonia's arms contracted. “I do like being hugged.”

Maggie chortled. “So do I.”

Antonia let her go with a smile. “Well, we'll both have to put in some practice, and your dad will, too. You're very pretty when you smile,” she observed.

“Here's the vase!” Julie said, smiling as she came in with it. She glanced at Maggie, who was beaming. “Gosh, you look different lately.”

“I got new clothes,” Maggie said pointedly.

“No. You smile a lot.” Julie chuckled. “Jake said you looked like that actress on his favorite TV show, and he was sort of shocked. Didn't you see him staring at you in class today?”

“He never!” Maggie exclaimed, embarrassed. “Did he?” she added hopefully.

“He sure did! The other boys teased him. He didn't even get mad. He just sort of grinned.”

Maggie's heart leaped. She looked at Antonia with eyes brimming with joy and discovery.

Antonia felt that same wonder. She couldn't ever regret marrying Powell, regardless of how it all ended up. She thought of the widow Holton and grew cold inside. But she didn't let the girls see it. She only smiled, listening to their friendly discussion with half an ear, while she wondered what Powell was going to say when she told him about their early-morning visitor.

 

He said nothing at all, as it turned out. And that made it worse. He only watched her through narrowed black eyes when she mentioned it, oh, so carelessly, as they prepared for bed that night.

“She didn't tell me what she wanted to discuss with you. She said that it was personal. I told her I'd give you the message. She did say that she'd be in touch.” She peered up at him.

His hard face didn't soften. He searched her eyes, looking for signs of jealousy, but none were there. She'd given him the bare bones of Leslie's visit with no emotion at all. Surely if he meant anything to her, it would have mattered that he was carrying on private, personal discussions with another woman. And Leslie's name had been linked with his in past years. She must have known that, too.

“Was that all?” he asked.

She shrugged. “All that I remember.” She smiled. “She's a knockout, isn't she?” she added generously. “Her hair is long and thick and wavy. I've never seen a human being with hair like that…it's almost alive. Does she model?”

“She was a motion picture actress until the death of her husband. She was tired of the pace so when she inherited his fortune, she gave it up.”

“Isn't it boring for her here, in such a small community?”

“She spends a lot of time chasing Dawson Rutherford.”

That was discouraging, for Barrie, anyway. Antonia wondered if Barrie knew about her stepbrother's contact with the woman. Then she remembered what her father had said about Dawson.

“Does he like her?” she asked curiously.

“He likes her land,” he replied. “We're both trying to get her to sell a tract that separates his border from mine. Her property has a river running right through it. If he gets his hands on it, I'll have an ongoing court battle over water rights, and vice versa.”

“So it really is business,” she blurted out.

He cocked an eyebrow. “I didn't say that was all it was,” he replied softly, mockingly. “Rutherford is a cold fish with women, and Leslie is, how can I put it, overstimulated.”

Her breath caught in her throat. “How overstimulated is she?” she demanded suddenly. “And by whom?”

He pursed his lips and toyed with his sleeve. “My past is none of your concern.”

She glared at him and sat upright in the bed. “Are you sleeping with her?”

His eyebrows jumped up. “What?”

“You heard me!” she snapped. “I asked if you were so determined to get that land that you'd forsake your marriage vows to accomplish it!”

“Is that what you think?” he asked, and he looked vaguely threatening.

“Why else would she come here to the house to see
you?” she asked. “And at a time when she knew you were usually home and Maggie was in school?”

“You're really unsettled about this, aren't you? What did she say to you?”

“She said you'd been at her house every evening when you were supposedly working late,” she muttered sharply. “And she acted as if I were the interloper, not her.”

“She wanted to marry me,” he remarked, digging the knife in deeper.

“Well, you married me,” she said angrily. “And I'm not going to be cuckolded!”

“Antonia! What a word!”

“You know what I mean!”

“I hope I do,” he said quietly, searching her furious eyes. “Why don't you explain it to me?”

“I wish I had a bottle, I'd explain it,” she raged at him, “right over your hard head!”

His dark eyes widened with humor. “You're so jealous you can't see straight,” he said, chuckling.

“Of that skinny redheaded cat?” she retorted.

He moved closer to the bed, still grinning. “Meow.”

She glared at him, her fists clenched on the covers. “I'm twice the woman she is!”

He cocked one eyebrow. “Are you up to proving it?” he challenged softly.

Her breath came in sharp little whispers. “You go lock that door. I'll show you a few things.”

He laughed with sheer delight. He locked the door and turned out the top light, turning back toward the bed.

She was standing beside it by then, and while he watched, she slid her negligee and gown down her arms to the floor.

“Well?” she asked huskily. “I may be a little thinner than I like, but I…”

He was against her before she could finish, his arms encircling her, his mouth hungry and insistent on her lips. She yielded at once, no argument, no protest.

He laid her down and quickly divested himself of everything he was wearing.

“Wait a minute,” she protested weakly, “I'm supposed to be…proving something.”

“Go ahead,” he said invitingly as his mouth opened on her soft breast and his hands found new territory to explore.

She tried to speak, but it ended on a wild little cry. She arched up to him and her nails bit into his lean hips. By the time his mouth shifted back to hers and she felt the hungry pressure of his body over her, she couldn't even manage a sound.

Later, storm-tossed and damp all over from the exertion, she lay panting and trembling in his arms, so drained by pleasure that she couldn't even coordinate her body.

“You were too weak,” he accused lazily, tracing
her mouth with a lazy finger as he arched over her. “I shouldn't have done that.”

“Yes, you should,” she whispered huskily, drawing his mouth down over hers. “It was beautiful.”

“Indeed it was.” He smiled against her lips. “I hope you were serious about wanting children. I meant to stop by the drugstore, but I forgot.”

She laughed. “I love children, and we've only got one so far.”

He lifted his head and searched her eyes. “You've changed her.”

“She's changed me. And you.” Her arms tightened around his neck. “We're a family. I've never been so happy. And from now on, it will only get better.”

He nodded. “She's very forgiving,” he replied. “I've got to earn back the trust I lost along the way. I'm ashamed for what I've put her through.”

“Life is all lessons,” she said. “She's got you now. She'll have sisters and brothers to spoil, too.” Her eyes warmed him. “I love you.”

He traced the soft line of her cheek. “I've loved you for most of my life,” he said simply, shocking her, because he'd never said the words before. “I couldn't manage to tell you. Funny, isn't it? I didn't realize what I had until I lost it.” His eyes darkened. “I wouldn't have wanted to live, if you hadn't.”

“Powell,” she whispered brokenly.

He kissed away the tears. “And you thought I wanted the widow Holton!”

“Well, she's skinny, but she is pretty.”

“Only on the outside. You're beautiful clean through, especially when you're being Maggie's mom.”

She smiled. “That's because I love Maggie's dad so much,” she whispered.

“And he loves you,” he whispered back, bending. “Outrageously.”

“Is that so?” she teased. “Prove it.”

He groaned. “The spirit is willing, but you've worn out the flesh. Besides,” he added softly, “you aren't up to long sessions just yet. I promise when you're completely well, I'll take you to the Bahamas and we'll see if we can make the world record book.”

“Fair enough,” she said. She held him close and closed her eyes, aglow with the glory of loving and being loved.

T
he new teacher for Maggie's class found a cooperative, happy little girl as ready to help as Julie Ames was. And Maggie came home each day with a new outlook and joy in being with her parents. There were long evenings with new movies in front of the fire, and books to look at, and parties, because Antonia arranged them and invited all the kids Maggie liked—especially Jake.

Powell had done some slowing down, although he was still an arch rival of Dawson Rutherford's over that strip of land the widow Holton was dangling between them.

“She's courting him,” Powell muttered one evening. “That's the joke of the century. The man's ice clean through. He avoids women like the plague, but she's angling for a weekend with him.”

“Yes, I know. I spoke to Barrie last week. She said he's tried to get her to come home and chaperone him, but they had a terrible fight over it and now they're not speaking at all. Barrie's jealous of her, I think.”

“Poor kid,” he replied, drawing Antonia closer. “There's nothing to be jealous of. Rutherford doesn't like women.”

“He doesn't like men, either.”

He chuckled. “Me, especially. I know. What I meant was that he's not interested in sexual escapades, even with lovely widows. He just wants land and cattle.”

“Women are much more fun,” she teased, snuggling close.

“Barrie might try showing him that.”

“She'd never have the nerve.”

“Barrie? Are we talking about the same woman who entertained three admirers at once at dinner?”

“Dawson is different,” she replied. “He matters.”

“I begin to see the light.”

She closed her eyes with a sigh. “He's a nice man,” she said. “You don't like him because of his father, but he's not as ruthless as George was.”

He stiffened. “Let's not talk about George.”

She lifted away and looked at him. “You don't still believe…!”

“Of course not,” he said immediately. “I meant that the Rutherfords have been a thorn in my side for
years, in a business sense. Dawson and I will never be friends.”

“Never is a long time. Barrie is my friend.”

“And a good one,” he agreed.

“Yes, well, I think she might end up with Dawson one day.”

“They're related,” he said shortly.

“They are not. His father married her mother.”

“He hates her, and vice versa.”

“I wonder,” Antonia said quietly. “That sort of dislike is suspicious, isn't it? I mean, you avoid people you really dislike. He's always making some excuse to see Barrie and give her hell.”

“She gives it right back,” he reminded her.

“She has to. A man like that will run right over a woman unless she stands up to him.” She curled her fingers into his. “You're like that, too,” she added, searching his black eyes quietly. “A gentle woman could never cope with you.”

“As Sally found out,” he agreed. His fingers contracted. “There's something about our marriage that I never told you. I think it's time I did. Maggie was born two months premature. I didn't sleep with Sally until after I broke our engagement. And I was so drunk that I thought you'd come back to me,” he added quietly. “You can't imagine how sick I felt when I woke up with her the next morning and realized what I'd done. And it was too late to put it right.”

She didn't say anything. She swallowed down the pain. “I see.”

“I was cruel, Antonia,” he said heavily. “Cruel and thoughtless. But I paid for it. Sadly, Sally and Maggie paid with me, and so did you.” He searched her eyes. “From now on, baby, if you tell me green is orange, I'll believe it. I wanted to tell you that from the day you came back to your father's house and I saw you there.”

“You made cutting remarks instead.”

He smiled ruefully. “It hurts to see what you've lost,” he replied. “I loved you to the soles of your feet, and I couldn't tell you. I thought you hated me.”

“Part of me did.”

“And then I found out why you'd really come here to teach,” he said. “I wanted to die.”

She went into his arms and nuzzled closer to him. “You mustn't look back,” she said. “It's over now. I'm safe, and so are you, and so is Maggie.”

“My Maggie,” he sighed, smiling. “She's a hell of a cattlewoman already.”

“She's your daughter.”

“Mmmm. Yes, she is. I'm glad I finally realized that Sally had lied about that. There are too many similarities.”

“Far too many.” She smiled against his chest. “It's been six weeks since that night I offered to prove I was more of a woman than the widow Holton,” she reminded him.

“So it has.”

She drew away a little, her eyes searching his while a secret smile touched her lips. But he wasn't waiting for surprises. His lean hand pressed softly against her flat stomach and he smiled back, all of heaven in his dark eyes.

“You know?” she whispered softly.

“I sleep with you every night,” he replied. “And I make love to you most every one. I'm not numb. And,” he added, “you've lost your breakfast for the past week.”

“I wanted to surprise you.”

“Go ahead,” he suggested.

She glared at him. “I'm pregnant,” she said.

He jumped up, clasped his hands over his heart and gave her such a look of wonder that she burst out laughing.

“Are you, truly?” he exclaimed. “My God!”

She was all but rolling on the floor from his exaggerated glee. Mrs. Bates stuck her head in the door to see what the commotion was all about.

“She's pregnant!” he told her.

“Well!” Mrs. Bates exclaimed. “Really?”

“The home test I took says I am,” she replied. “I still have to go to the doctor to have it confirmed.”

“Yes,” Powell said. “And the results from this test won't be frightening.”

She agreed wholeheartedly.

 

They told Maggie that afternoon. She was apprehensive when they called her into the living room.
Things had been so wonderful lately. Perhaps they'd changed their minds about her, and she was going to be sent off to school…

“Antonia is pregnant,” Powell said softly.

Maggie's eyes lit up. “Oh, is that it!” she said, relieved. “I thought it was going to be something awful. You mean we're going to have a real baby of our own?” She hugged Antonia warmly and snuggled close to her on the sofa. “Julie will be just green, just green with envy!” she said, laughing. “Can I hold him when he's born, and help you take care of him? I can get books about babies….”

Antonia was laughing with pure delight. “Yes, you can help,” she said. “I thought it might be too soon, that you'd be unhappy about it.”

“Silly old Mom,” Maggie said with a frown. “I'd love a baby brother. It's going to be a boy, isn't it?”

Powell chuckled. “I like girls, too,” he said.

Maggie grinned at him. “You only like me on account of I know one end of a cow from another,” she said pointedly.

“Well, you're pretty, too,” he added.

She beamed. “Now, I'll have something really important to share at show and tell.” She looked up. “I miss you at school. So does everybody else. Miss Tyler is nice, but you were special.”

“I'll go back to teaching one day,” Antonia promised. “It's like riding a bike. You never forget how.”

“Shall we go over and tell your granddad?” Powell asked.

“Yes,” Maggie said enthusiastically. “Right now!”

 

Ben was overwhelmed by the news. He sat down heavily in his easy chair and just stared at the three of them sitting smugly on his couch.

“A baby,” he exclaimed. His face began to light up. “Well!”

“It's going to be a boy, Granddad,” Maggie assured him. “Then you'll have somebody who'll appreciate those old electric trains you collect. I'm sorry I don't, but I like cattle.”

Ben chuckled. “That's okay, imp,” he told her. “Maybe some day you can help teach the baby about Queen Anne furniture.”

“He likes that a lot,” Maggie told the other adults. “We spend ever so much time looking at furniture.”

“Well, it's fun,” Ben said.

“Yes, it is,” Maggie agreed, “but cattle are so much more interesting, Granddad, and it's scientific, too, isn't it, Dad?”

Powell had to agree. “She's my kid. You can tell.”

“Oh, yes.” Ben nodded. He smiled at the girl warmly. Since she'd come into his life, whole new worlds had opened up for him. She came over sometimes just to help him organize his books. He had plenty, and it was another love they shared.
“That reminds me. Found you something at that last sale.”

He got up and produced a very rare nineteenth-century breed book. He handed it to Maggie with great care. “You look after that,” he told her. “It's valuable.”

“Oh, Granddad!” She went into raptures of enthusiasm.

Powell whistled through his teeth. “That's expensive, Ben.”

“Maggie knows that. She'll take care of it, too,” he added. “Never saw anyone take the care with books that she does. Never slams them around or leaves them lying about. She puts every one right back in its place. I'd even lend her my first editions. She's a little jewel.”

Maggie heard that last remark and looked up at her grandfather with an affectionate smile. “He's teaching me how to take care of books properly,” she announced.

“And she's an excellent pupil.” He looked at Antonia with pure love in his eyes. “I wish your mother was here,” he told her. “She'd be so happy and proud.”

“I know she would. But, I think she knows, Dad,” Antonia said gently. And she smiled.

 

That night, Antonia phoned Barrie to tell her the news. Her best friend was overjoyed.

“You have to let me know when he's born, so that I can fly up and see him.”

“Him?”

“Boys are nice. You should have at least one. Then you'll have a matched set. Maggie and a boy.”

“Well, I'll do my best.” There was a pause. “Heard from Dawson?”

There was a cold silence. “No.”

“I met the widow Holton not so long ago,” Antonia remarked.

Barrie cleared her throat. “Is she old?”

“About six years older than I am,” Antonia said. “Slender, redheaded, green-eyed and very glamorous.”

“Dawson should be ecstatic to have her visiting every weekend.”

“Barrie, Dawson really could use a little support where that woman is concerned,” she said slowly. “She's hard and cold and very devious, from what I hear. You never know what she might do.”

“He invited her up there,” Barrie muttered. “And then had the audacity to try and get me to come play chaperone, so that people wouldn't think there was anything going on between them. As if I want to watch her paw him and fawn all over him and help him pretend it's all innocent!”

“Maybe it is innocent. Dawson doesn't like women, Barrie,” she added. “They say he's, well, sexually cold.”

“Dawson?”

“Dawson.”

Barrie hesitated. She couldn't very well say what she was thinking, or what she was remembering.

“Are you still there?” Antonia asked.

“Yes.” Barrie sighed. “It's his own fault, he wants that land so badly that he'll do anything to get it.”

“I don't think he'd go this far. I think he just invited Mrs. Holton up there to talk to her, and now she thinks he had amorous intentions instead of business ones and he can't get rid of her. She strikes me as the sort who'd be hard to dissuade. She's a very pushy woman, and Dawson's very rich. It may be that she's chasing him, instead of the reverse.”

“He never said that.”

“Did you give him a chance to say anything?” Antonia asked.

“It's safer if I don't,” Barrie muttered. “I don't know if I want to risk giving Dawson a whole weekend to spend giving me hell.”

“You could try. He might have had a change of heart.”

“Not likely.” There was a harsh laugh. “Well, I'll call him, and if he asks me again, I'll go, but only if there are plenty of people around, not just the widow.”

“Call him up and tell him that.”

“I don't know…”

“He's not an ogre. He's just a man.”

“Sure.” She sounded unconvinced.

“Barrie, you're not a coward. Save him.”

“Imagine, the iceman needing saving.” She hesitated. “Who told you they called him that?”

“Just about everybody I know. He doesn't date. The widow is the first woman he's been seen with in years.” Antonia's voice softened. “Curious, isn't it?”

It was, but Barrie didn't dare mention why. She had some ideas about it, and she wondered if she had enough courage to go to Sheridan and find out the truth.

“Maybe I'll go,” Barrie said.

“Maybe you should,” Antonia agreed, and shortly afterward, she hung up, giving Barrie plenty to think about.

Powell came to find her after she'd gotten off the phone, smiling at her warmly. “You look pretty in pink,” he remarked.

She smiled back. “Thanks.”

He sat down beside her on the sofa and pulled her close. “What's wrong?”

“The widow Holton is giving Dawson a hard time.”

“Good,” Powell said.

She glared at him. “You might have the decency to feel sorry for the poor man. You were her target once, I believe.”

“Until you stepped in and saved me, you sweet woman,” he replied, and bent to kiss her warmly.

“There isn't anybody to save Dawson unless Barrie will.”

“He can fight his own dragons. Or should I say dragonettes?” he mused thoughtfully.

“Aren't you still after that strip of land, too?”