Chasing the Sunset(9)
“I am glad to see Nick finally got the good sense to get someone in here who can actually help me with this work,” she had said, hands on rounded hips. Kathleen was blond and plump and when a smile crossed her face as it did just then, beautiful.
Maggie smiled to herself with the thought of Kathleen; she was the first friend she’d had in more than three years, the first friend she had been allowed to have. Kathleen was the everlastingly cheerful daughter of a local farmer. The youngest of a brood of seven, she was the only one still at home, and she supplemented her income with her work here. She had told Maggie that her father did not actually approve and that he would rather have had her at home, but that after a lifetime of letting her go her own way, he did not know how to stop now. Her father had plenty of money, she confessed, she just liked to make her own. Plus, she had said with a twinkle in her eye, it helped out Nicholas, the great idiot, who needed her, and got her away from her mother for a few hours a day. And once she, Maggie, had met her mother, she would understand that statement completely. Besides, she had said, it was her mother’s house, and there really was not enough for both of them to do. They just got in each other’s way, and spent the whole day fussing at each other. She had grinned and said she and her mother were much better off if she kept on working for Nick during the day. And it cut down on her father’s drinking, because he went off his feed and went straight for the whiskey when she and her mother were fighting
Kathleen was hardworking and honest, and she had a sly humor that poked fun at everything, even herself. She had noticed immediately that Maggie was nervous at being in a roomful of men, so Kathleen served the men their midday meal, and Maggie heard them teasing her relentlessly. Kathleen gave back as good as she got, though, and Maggie felt a smile curve her lips whenever she thought of how Kathleen had boxed the ears of one man who got too fresh with her. She would have been frozen with fear if a man had grabbed her like that; Kathleen slapped him upside the head so hard, the man’s ears probably rang for a week. She did not hold a grudge, either. When that same man came to apologize, Kathleen had smiled at him sweetly and given him a cold towel for his reddened ear. Laughter came easily and often to Kathleen, and she obviously did not fear even one of the men who worked for Nick Revelle.
Maggie had been astonished the first time she heard a giggle come out of her own mouth. The sound was rusty and muffled because she had not laughed in so long, but laughing was something that came back quickly to a person, she had found out. Just that afternoon, Mr. Revelle had come upon them suddenly in the kitchen while they were both holding their sides, breathless with laughter.
“I heard strange noises coming from the kitchen and had visions of a horrible accident,” he had said, looking at them quizzically. “But I see you are both perfectly fine, if a bit giddy.” He eyed Kathleen with his hands on lean hips. "I see that you have already corrupted my new housekeeper, Kathleen. Next thing I know, she will be trying to tell me what to do, too."
"You need someone to tell you what to do," Kathleen said saucily. "Just look at all the troubles you would have saved yourself if you had listened to even half of my advice all these years that we’ve known each other."
When he had retreated hastily from the kitchen without an answer to that, they both went off into gales of laughter, Maggie almost weeping at the expression on his face.
“Did you see him?” she gasped out. “Oh, lordy, I wish I had a picture of that look!”
Kathleen broke out into loud laughter again, her freckled face alight with humor.
“He needs to laugh like this.” She cast a shrewd glance on Maggie. “From the looks of you, it has been some time since you had any fun, too.”
Maggie felt hot as color rushed into her face. “I . . . I . . . “she began, but Kathleen cut her off.
“You do not have to say anything,” she said kindly. “You can tell me if you want to, but you do not have to. It is not a requirement of our friendship.”
Maggie looked down at the ground, sobered by the realization that she could never tell anybody what had happened to her. It was much too dangerous to have even Uncle Ned know. If anyone ever slipped, and they found her . . . she shuddered in fear.
“No, I have not laughed very much lately,” she said grimly. “I hope to keep on laughing, though. For a long, long time.”
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Maggie sat by the stream and trailed her fingers through the cool water. She sighed in sensual pleasure as her fingers flowed through the clear, clean stuff. She had loved growing up in St. Louis, she loved the bustle of the city, but it could not compare to the beauty of these surroundings, not to her way of thinking.
It was just dusk, and she had slipped away after supper, just after Kathleen went home. She had found this spot days ago, and this was the first time that she had felt free to visit it. She had dreamed of it all day in the heat of the kitchen, while the sun beat on her bonneted head as she worked in the garden, while she beat the dust out of rugs so thick with disuse that she nearly choked on the dirt, as she scrubbed the floor of the entrance to the house, as she industriously polished the lustrous wood of the staircase.
Maggie leaned back on her arms with a sigh and looked up at the old gnarled tree that partially blocked the sky above her. The tree had massive branches and contorted limbs; its trunk probably measured ten feet around. Thick foliage shaded her from the setting sun and she could hear birds trill and coo to each other in the leaves. A squirrel jumped from one branch to the other, chattering furiously to its mate, and Maggie smiled dreamily. It was so peaceful here, and she needed the peace and quiet.
Rose and gold began to streak the sky, and Maggie watched the setting sun with a bemused smile on her face. She was content here. No one watched her here, she did not have to fear here. She could do what she wanted, and none could say her nay.
She surveyed the glittering rush of water and listened to its sibilant whisper. The wind carried the damp, fecund smell that lingered around water. It smelled of life, and Maggie breathed it in deeply, enchanted by this place. She glanced around at the small secluded clearing in the midst of woods. The tension that was always with her began to uncurl and float away on the breeze that caressed with its gentle fingers. She rolled her neck around, enjoying the sensation. She had not been this relaxed in years. No one comes here, she thought. I could take off these heavy shoes and stockings and put my feet in the water and no one would know. She smiled wickedly to herself and began to strip them off the minute the thought hit her mind. She moaned loudly as her reddened feet sank into the bone-numbing chill of the water. It feels so good! she thought, and giggled out loud, looking around guiltily. I could even wade out, she thought daringly. It is just so hot. She stood and wobbled as her feet slipped on the rocks on the bottom. Water splashed the hem of her gray dress even as she struggled to hold it up, and she studied its dripping wet fabric in chagrin. She giggled to herself even as she stripped it off in a sudden fit of recklessness and splashed heavily over to an overhanging bush to spread it out to dry. She felt unbelievably free standing there in the water in just her chemise, and she leaned over to splash water on her hot face and all the skin exposed on her arms and chest. Soon she was soaking wet, the chemise transparent, and Maggie just did not care. She sat down abruptly and gave a shout of shock. My, that was freezing! She laughed again, loud and lustily, in cold water up to her breasts. She looked down at the nipples that were clearly visible through the worn cloth of her chemise, and blushed to see herself so. She could see every contour of her body through the wet undergarment; the shape of her limbs, the tautness of her breasts, her small waist, even the shadow between her legs. She giggled again, then turned her head sharply as she heard a noise, and Nick Revelle stepped out from the trees.
Maggie was frozen. Oh God, Oh God, she prayed to herself. Please help me. Please. His eyes burned into hers, and she was helpless to look away. She flushed painfully, feeling a slow, sweet burst of something in the pit of her stomach. Then the memories began to surface. The face of the man across from her began to change, and undiluted panic began to sizzle through her veins. She began to scoot backwards away from him, never breaking eye contact, small sobs coming from her throat. He was coming to get her, he was going to hurt her, oh god, oh god . . The stones of the bottom of the stream cut into her soft skin, but she did not care, she did not care, she just had to get away.
“Maggie,” he said hoarsely. “Stop. Stop.” His voice was rough with emotion. “I come here sometimes in the evenings to swim. I did not know you would be here, and when I did see you . . You were having so much fun, I just watched you. I did not know you would take your clothes off. I did not mean to frighten you. Please, Maggie, please stop.”
Nick’s words began to penetrate her panic, and she stared at him in confusion. He was not rushing to get her, and she was just sitting here in the water. He could get her if he wanted, so why did he not? She began to shiver with the cold and with her fear, her arms wrapped around herself, the breast-deep water chilling her to the bone now that the sun had gone all the way down.