Wife for Hire

Chapter 6

Maggie and Elsie stood staring at the hole in the screen door.

“You didn’t miss him by much,” Elsie said. “It was the screen that slowed you down.”

“I didn’t really want to hit him. I just wanted to throw something.”

Elsie nodded. “Good job.”

Maggie grinned. “He would have been disappointed if I hadn’t thrown something. He likes to provoke me.”

“You mean you weren’t really mad?”

“Of course I was mad. He makes me crazy.”

Elsie shook her head. “This is too complicated for me. I’m going to do the dishes.”

Maggie cleaned the back porch and went upstairs to work. It was going to be another perfect day, she thought. Blue sky and warm with just the tiniest of breezes. In the distance she could hear an engine turn over and guessed it was Bubba on the loader.

She reread the handwritten notes she’d been compiling. The diary lay to her right. It was open to December 3, 1923. Aunt Kitty had talked of the weather, the tragedy of the Thorley baby’s death from the croup, and Johnny McGregor, whom she declared to be the handsomest man she’d ever seen. The “diary” actually consisted of seven diaries, covering a span of thirty-two years. Among other things it was a chronicle of love for John McGregor.

Maggie had chosen to treat her book as historical fiction. It would enable her to give a true recording of history, according to Aunt Kitty’s wishes, and still ensure her family a mea sure of privacy.

The thought that someone might have broken into Hank’s house to steal the diary sent a chill through her. It would have to be someone sick, because Aunt Kitty wasn’t a famous person. The diary wasn’t worth much money. It probably wasn’t worth any money. For that matter, Maggie suspected the book she was writing wouldn’t be worth much money either. Her goal was simply to get Aunt Kitty’s story in print. That in itself seemed a formidable task.

Twelve hours later Hank leaned against the kitchen counter, drinking milk and eating oatmeal cookies. “She’s still up there.”

Elsie shook her head. “I tell you she’s a woman possessed. Couldn’t even coax her down with my meat loaf.”

“Maybe I should throw the circuit breaker.”

“Maybe you should take out more health insurance first.”

“Okay, so I won’t throw the circuit breaker. I’ll try charming her out of the room.” He went to the refrigerator and took out a bottle of Chablis. “A little wine wouldn’t hurt either.”

The door to her study was closed. He knocked twice and received a muffled answer. He pushed the door open and found Maggie with her arms crossed on the desktop and her face buried in her arms. She was crying her eyes out, making loud sobbing noises. Her shoulders were shaking, and she had tissues clutched in her hands. He rushed to her and put his hand at the nape of her neck. “Maggie, what’s wrong?”

She picked her head up and blinked at him. Her face was flushed and tears tracked down her cheeks. “It’s so aw-w-wful,” she sobbed. Her breath caught in a series of hiccups.

Hank pulled her out of her chair, sat down, and took her onto his lap, cuddling her close. He stroked the hair back from her face and waited while she blew her nose. He thought his heart would break. He had no idea she’d been so miserable.

“Tell me about it, honey. What’s so awful?”

“J-J-Johnny McGregor. She loved him terribly. It was b-b-beautiful. But he couldn’t marry her.”

“She?”

“Aunt Kitty. He couldn’t marry her. He had an invalid wife and a little girl.”

“Let me get this straight. You’re crying your head off because Johnny McGregor couldn’t marry Aunt Kitty?”

“It’s all in chapter two. I just finished it. It’s w-w-wonderful.” She wiped the tears from her eyes and took a big gulp of air.

“They were sweethearts, but their parents were against their marrying. Aunt Kitty’s father sent her to Boston to live with relatives, and while she was there Aunt Kitty discovered she was pregnant. By then his parents thought she was a tramp. Johnny and Aunt Kitty wrote letters to each other, but neither of them ever received them. Aunt Kitty had her baby in Boston, thinking Johnny had abandoned her. And after two years of not hearing anything from Aunt Kitty, Johnny married his third cousin Marjorie.”

Hank thought if he lived to be a hundred he’d never understand women.

“When Aunt Kitty’s father died from a heart attack, she came back home for the funeral, and met Johnny on the street, downtown. It was just as if they’d never been separated. They still loved each other, but now Johnny was married, and his wife was frail, and he had an infant daughter.”

“He should have waited for Kitty,” Hank said. “He should have gone looking for her. I think this McGregor guy sounds like a jerk.”

Maggie smiled between snuffles. Hank was more of a fighter than Johnny McGregor. Hank wouldn’t have knuckled under to his parents. And Hank wouldn’t have stood still while his sweetheart’s father spirited her away.

“So, where did all this take place? Was this in Riverside?”

“No. Aunt Kitty and Johnny lived in Easton, Pennsylvania. Aunt Kitty stayed there so she could be near Johnny, and after some hard times she was befriended by a woman who ran a brothel. One thing led to another, and eventually Aunt Kitty took over as madam. She moved to Riverside when she was an old woman.”

“And you’ve got all this in your book, huh?”

“I will eventually.” She gave one last sad sigh and got off his lap. “Chapter two is an emotional chapter.”

“I can see that.” He half-filled a wineglass with the chilled Chablis and passed it to her.

Maggie took the wine and held it a moment before drinking. She watched while he poured some for himself, and smiled when he clinked glasses in a toast.

“To Aunt Kitty,” he said. He took a sip, set the glass on the desk, and reached for the fragile leather-bound book Maggie had left lying open. “Do you mind if I read this?”

“I don’t think Aunt Kitty would mind. It’s the first volume. She started keeping the diary when she was sixteen.”

He read the first page and drank a little more wine. Then he thumbed through the book, reading pages at random. “This is actually very interesting.”

“You sound surprised.”

“I’ve always thought girls’ diaries were sappy. I always figured it was something you filled with lies and exaggerations and then left laying around for your friends to read.”

“I think the middle diaries are the most interesting. They detail house hold accounts for the brothel. It’s a unique slant on history.”

Hank selected one of the middle diaries and began reading. His eyes opened wide, and his mouth creased into a broad grin. “Whoa! You were right. This is definitely more interesting. Aunt Kitty had a real flare for words.”

“What page are you on?”

“Page forty-two. She’s talking about Eugenia and the button salesman.”

“Give me that book!”

Hank edged away from her, holding the book too high for her to reach. “Each month Eugenia waited for the button salesman to come into town,” Hank read. “Eugenia would wear her sheer red dress and her fancy red-and-black garters…”

Maggie lunged for the book, and Hank pinned her against the wall. His eyes were dancing with mischief. “Do you have any garters, Maggie?”

“You’re squashing me!”

“Stop squirming. No, on second thought, I think I like the squirming.”

She instantly went still. “I’m going to scream for Elsie.”

“Coward.”

“You bet.”

Hank continued to read out loud. “And Eugenia would dot her very best, most expensive French perfume at every pulse point. On the column of her neck…” Hank dipped his head and leisurely, thoroughly kissed the pulse point in Maggie’s neck. “At her wrist…” Hank’s mouth moved over Maggie’s wrist with slow passion. “Along the heated crevice between her full breasts…”

The air felt trapped in Maggie’s lungs. Her chest burned with it. Her head hummed with Hank’s words, with the sound of his voice, soft and resonant. Desire was rising from somewhere deep inside her and radiating outward in waves that left her weak-kneed.

He’d opened the top buttons on her cotton shirt. It was an outrageous liberty, she thought, but she was powerless to stop him. She wanted to feel his mouth on her breast, and when his lips finally grazed along the soft flesh that swelled from the cup of her lacy bra, she shuddered.

“Should I continue?” he asked.

“Yes.” She could barely say it, barely hear her own words over the pounding of her heart.

“She perfumed the tips of her breasts…” he said, improvising wildly.

His large hand covered her, molding her to fit his palm. She was soft and full, and he thought he would burst with love. And if he didn’t burst from love, he certainly was ready to burst with passion.

He’d thought ahead, and he knew there was only one place left for Eugenia to put the damn perfume. If Maggie allowed him to put his hand there, it was all over.

Then he thought of Elsie, puttering around downstairs in the kitchen and wondered why he’d ever started this.

Maggie had also thought ahead. “Stop,” she whispered. “Stop now.”

He sagged against her. “You ever seen a grown man cry?”

Maggie giggled from nervousness. “It’s not that bad.”

“Easy for you to say.”

“We have to talk.”

“Uh-huh.”

She splayed both hands on his chest to put some room between them, but he wouldn’t move far.

“I’m going to be honest with you. I’m very attracted to you. It wouldn’t take much for me to fall in love and do something foolish, like go to bed with you.”

“Why would that be foolish?”

“I’m not like you. Falling in love would be serious for me. It would be painful. It would be disruptive.”

A crease formed between his eyebrows. “What makes you think it wouldn’t be for me?”

“I think your outlook on life is different from mine.”

He held her by the shoulders and gave her a small shake. “You don’t know anything about my outlook on life. You don’t know anything about me. You only know the stories. Give me a chance, Maggie. Look for yourself.”

“I don’t want to give you a chance. We have six more months of cohabitation. I don’t want to make that any more awkward than it already is. Even if you were the right person for me, this wouldn’t work out. Skogen is another Riverside. I’m the prime topic of conversation for the entire town. I’m crazy Maggie Toone all over again, and there probably isn’t a man, woman, or child within a fifty-mile radius who isn’t waiting to hear about my latest outrageous act.”

“You’re wrong. You’re not crazy Maggie Toone. You’re crazy Maggie Mallone.”

“I don’t want to fall in love with you.”

“Fine. Do what ever you can to try to prevent it, but I don’t think it will help.”

He released her and took a step back. “And what about me? It’s too late for me, Maggie. I’m already in love with you.”

Disbelief quickly replaced the initial surge of joy. “I suppose that’s your problem.”

“Wrong. It’s your problem, because I intend to do what ever is necessary to get you to love me.”

“Wasn’t it just last night you told me you weren’t going to put any moves on me?”

“I changed my mind.”

“What made you change your mind?”

“I don’t know. I started out wanting to comfort you when you were crying, and I ended up trying to seduce you. About halfway through, it became obvious that I wasn’t going to be able to hide my…feelings.”

Maggie smiled. “You have a point. Your feelings were pretty obvious.”

“And you’re wrong about Skogen. It’s a nice place to live. I think you need to get to know some of the people here. They aren’t so bad. They like to gossip, but there isn’t anything mean in it. It’s just recreation. We don’t have a movie theater or a shopping mall, so folks around here spend their time passing along false information.”

“I don’t know if I want to meet any more Skogenians.”

She knew she didn’t have a good attitude. After all, she had an obligation to fulfill as his wife.

“Okay, I take that back. I want to meet the locals. What did you have in mind? I hope it’s not another dinner party.”

“There’s a dance at the grange Friday night.” Did he just say that? He hated dances.

“A dance?” Her face brightened. “I love dances. What kind of a dance is it?”

Damned if he knew. He’d never been to one. “It’s just your average dance, I guess. Elmo Feeley and Andy Snell and some others have a band.”

“A live band? And the dance floor, is it wood?”

“It might be.”

Hours later Maggie lay wide-eyed in bed, unable to sleep. She was in love, of course. And of course she’d never admit it to Hank because falling in love with Hank Mallone was a no-win situation.

Still, it was exciting. It was also terrifying. Not terrifying in a daredevil sort of way. That kind of danger had never bothered her. This was real terror. The kind she carried around in the pit of her stomach. The kind that gnawed at her during quiet moments when her mind was unoccupied. Hank Mallone was capable of breaking her heart, and that was much more dangerous than writing a dirty word on a grade school door.

There were slippered footsteps in the hall, and Maggie heard her doorknob turn very slowly, very carefully. There was no light in her room and no light in the hall. Nothing was visible in the dark when the door opened, but Maggie sensed it was Elsie. She was the only one who wore slippers.

“Don’t move,” Elsie whispered. “And don’t say anything. There’s a man climbing a ladder up to your window.”

“What?”

“Shhhh! I said to keep quiet. I’m gonna fix this guy’s wagon. When I get done with him, he isn’t gonna be climbing ladders for a long time.”

That was when Maggie saw the barrel of the gun glint in the blackness. Elsie was right beside her, and she was holding a gun with two hands the way Maggie had seen on the cop shows. “Don’t worry about a thing,” Elsie said. “I’ve done this before. I know just where to aim.”

A black shape appeared in the far window. A knife sliced along the perimeter of the window screen, and Maggie was able to see that it was a man, and that he was wearing something over his face. A stocking maybe. She and Elsie were hidden in the shadows of the room, but the intruder was slightly backlit from a sliver of moon. He leaned forward to enter the room, and Elsie pulled the trigger.

Maggie thought it had to be like standing next to a howitzer. The blast was deafening, there was a flash of fire from the gun barrel, the smell of smoke and gun oil stung her nostrils, and the man at the window screamed in fright and instantly disappeared. There was a solid thunk as his body hit the ground, followed by the clatter of the ladder falling on top of him.

“Dang, I got excited and shot too soon,”

Elsie said. “He wasn’t even halfway through the window. I probably only shot him in the heart.”

Hank rushed into the room, zipping his jeans. “What the devil was that?”

“Elsie shot some guy on a ladder,” Maggie said. “He was trying to get into my room.”

Hank went to the window and looked through the slashed screen. “I don’t think he’s shot too bad. I can see him taking off through the orchard. In fact, I don’t think he’s shot at all since there’s a hole the size of a grapefruit in the wall here. How many shots did you fire, Elsie?”

“Just one. He didn’t hang around long enough for me to squeeze off another.”

“Anybody get a decent look at him?”

“The big sissy was wearing panty hose on his head,” Elsie said. “I couldn’t hardly see him.”

“I didn’t see him very well either,” Maggie said. “But he seemed bigger than the last man. I think this was someone different. And his scream was different.”

“I heard him sneaking around the house,” Elsie said. “By the time I got to a window, he was already on the ladder. So I grabbed Little Leroy here and headed for Maggie’s room.”

Hank gently removed the gun from Elsie’s hand and emptied the bullets. “Little Leroy?”

“When I was living in Washington, I bought it at a yard sale. The man who sold me the gun said he called it Little Leroy because it was big and bad just like this friend of his named Leroy.”

“Maybe you’d like to leave Little Leroy with me for safekeeping,” Hank said.

Elsie retrieved the gun and tucked it into her bathrobe pocket. “I don’t go anywhere without Little Leroy. Old ladies got to protect themselves. It isn’t like I could give some guy a karate chop, you know. I don’t move as fast as I used to. Sometimes I get arthritis in my knee when it’s going to rain.”

She turned and shuffled toward the stairs “I’m going to make myself a meat loaf sandwich. I always get an appetite when I get woken up in the middle of the night like this.”

Hank pulled the shades on the windows and drew the curtains. “Where’s Horatio? He was supposed to be sleeping in here?”

“He went under the bed when Elsie blasted that poor man off the ladder. I think he’s still under there.”

“Can’t blame him,” Hank said. “I don’t know who’s more of a threat-the guys that are breaking into this house, or Elsie and her cannon.”

“Maybe we should call the police.”

“I told Gordie Pickens about the first break-in. He’s the sheriff for this part of the county. If I call him now, I’ll probably wake him up. I’ll file a report in the morning.”

And tomorrow I’ll go into town and see who’s walking with a limp, he thought. Someone would be sore from falling off that ladder.

“This is too much of a coincidence,” Maggie said. “Someone’s after the diary.”

“Have you got the diary in a safe place?”

“Between my mattress and box spring.”

Hank stretched out on the bed. “Good. Then I can stay right here and protect you and the diary, all at the same time.”

Maggie squinted at him in the darkness. “And who’s going to protect me from you?”

“You don’t need any protection from me. I’m doing my hero thing to night. I’m going to stay by your side and keep you safe.”

“To tell you the truth I don’t think I’m in too much danger. These people don’t seem very bright to me. I don’t think we’re dealing with hardened criminals.”

“Yeah. Their second-story skills are definitely lacking.”

“You think it could be a prank? You know, someone’s idea of a joke?”

“Hard to believe. Even in my most rebellious stage I never did breaking and entering. Anyway, what ever the motive, I think Elsie did a pretty good job of discouraging them.”

“Then why are you staying here?”

“I don’t want to pass up an excuse to crawl into bed with you.” He reached out and pulled her snugly against him. “How’s this? Is this comfortable?”

“Actually…”

“Good,” he said, wrapping his arms around her. “We can look at this like a trial run. This is how we’d sleep if we were lovers, but of course, we wouldn’t have any clothes on. You’ll have to use your imagination about the clothes,” he whispered into her hair.

“Don’t start.”

“It was just something I thought I should bring to your attention. Details are important, you know.”

“Uh-huh.”

He threw his leg over hers and curled his hand around her rib cage. “Can you imagine how my hand would feel on you if you were naked?”

“You’re doing it again! You’re trying to seduce me!”

“I know. I’m a scourge.”

“You told me you were going to be a hero to night.”

“Oh man, are you going to hold me to that?” He gave an exaggerated sigh. “Okay, you’re right. I said I was going to be a hero, so I’ll be a hero, but I want you to know it’s damn hard being a hero. I hope you appreciate this.”

“Are you going to sleep now?”

“Yes.”

“Good.”

They lay together in silence for some time. Horatio stretched under the bed; Fluffy curled in an old-fashioned rocker. Downstairs, a mantel clock ticked away the hours. The darkness was thick and velvety, the air heavy with the orchard smells that drifted through the open window.

Maggie felt Hank relax, heard his breathing turn slow and steady. He was asleep. This was something else she could easily get used to, she decided. She liked this quiet part of sleeping with a man. She liked the warmth and security, the silent companionship. She was an extravagant personality, but she enjoyed the small pleasures of life the best. She liked to watch her cat stretch, liked to lick the beaters when she made whipped cream, liked the way Hank’s arm felt as it possessively draped across her.

She lay there for a while longer, absorbing the plea sure of Hank’s nearness, and little by little a different sort of plea sure stole into her. Little by little desire pushed the contentment aside and wanting took over. The wanting burned behind her skin and ached deep in her loins. She had never wanted like this before. Not with this unrelenting intensity. Not from simply being next to a man.

She moved against him; pressing her lips to his heated flesh. Her hand slid along the muscle-hard plane of his belly. Her breasts weighed heavy on him. She felt him stir, sensed a change in his breathing.

“Hank,” she whispered in the darkness, her lips skimming lower. “About this hero thing…”

He groaned.

Her hand was splayed over his navel, and she could feel the muscles tense under her palm. Her own stomach responded with an equally strong contraction. So this was what it was all about, she thought. She’d never understood before. She’d never before been caught in the undertow of desire, never felt the pull of it.

His hands tensed at her back. “Maggie, what are you doing?”

“I think I’m seducing you. Is it working?”

Another groan.

“I’ve never actually seduced anyone before.”

“Maybe you’d better think about it.”

“Oh Lord, am I doing it wrong?”

“No! I just want to make sure this is what you want.”

What she wanted? She was beyond wanting. At the moment loving Hank seemed crucial to her existence. Loving Hank seemed as essential as breathing air. She answered by wriggling out of her nightshirt and tossing it to the floor.

Neither moved. Nothing was said. Their breathing was shallow and silent. And then suddenly there was only passion. It roared through them like a flash fire.

He yanked his jeans off and came to her needing more than he’d ever before needed from a woman. He kissed her hard and deep, sweeping the length of her body with his hand. Loving words and tender exploration were saved for other times. There was an urgency and a ferocity to this first lovemaking that was more exciting than slow expertise.

She arched her back and cried out.

Mine, he thought. My woman, my wife, my love. He put his mouth to her and brought the fever back to her body.

He was a man who gave freely and took hungrily. He felt her move under him, heard her cry out at the intensity of the plea sure, felt her contraction tighten around him.

“Maggie.” He could hardly say it, hardly breathe for the fire that consumed him. He thought his heart would leap from his chest, and then they came together with an explosion of passion that left both of them gasping. When it was over, they clung together, trying to assemble their thoughts.

She was the first to find her voice. “Wow,” she said.

Hank couldn’t top that, so he picked her up with shaking arms and carried her across the hall into his bedroom. “Clean sheets,” he offered. “This next time is going to be slow and thorough, and I don’t want you to be distracted.”

“Oh my God,” she half-moaned, “you mean there’s going to be a next time already?”