Joan Hohl - The Dakota Man

“You can’t be serious.” Her half-full cup of coffee—her third—in front of her, Hannah stared at Maggie in sheer disbelief.

“I assure you I am. Dead serious,” Maggie said, her features set in lines of determination. “I have already started the ball rolling.”

“By slashing your gown to ribbons?” Hannah asked, her tone reflecting the hope that her friend hadn’t done something even more drastic.

“Oh, that. That was symbolic.” Maggie dismissed the act with a flick of her hand. “I couldn’t stand looking at it another minute. No,” she said, shaking her head. “What I have done to get the ball rolling was to spend this lovely Sunday morning composing notes to all the guests invited to the wedding, informing them that there would be no wedding, after all, e-mailing those on-line, and preparing the rest for snail-mail delivery.”

“If you’d given me a holler, I’d have gladly helped you with that,” Hannah said, heaving a sigh of exasperation.

“Thanks, but, well…” Maggie shrugged. “That chore is done.”

“You didn’t e-mail your parents….” Hannah’s eyebrows shot up. “Did you?”

“Well, of course not. I telephoned them.” Maggie sighed. “They were understandably upset, insisted I go spend some time with them in Hawaii.”

“Good idea.”

Maggie gave a quick head shake. “No, it isn’t. They both took early retirement and moved to Hawaii to relax after Dad’s mild heart attack. If I went there, in the mood I’m in, Mom would probably knock herself out to fuss all over me. Dad would likewise fret, curtail his golf games and try to distract and entertain me. And I’d feel guilty as hell because of it.”

Hannah frowned but nodded. “I suppose.”

Maggie soldiered on. “I also drafted a letter to my superior at work, giving my one-month notice of my intention to leave the firm.”

Hannah’s eyes widened with alarm. “Maggie, you didn’t.”

“I did,” Maggie assured her, raising a hand to keep her friend from interrupting. “What’s more, I faxed a Realtor I know, asking him if he’d be interested in listing my apartment for sale.”

Hannah jumped from her chair. “Maggie, no.” She shook her head, setting her sleek, bobbed honey-brown hair swinging. “You can’t do that.”

“I damn well can,” Maggie retorted. “My grandmother left this place to me, I own it free and clear.” She rolled her eyes. “And the forever taxes that go with it.”

“But…” Her hair swung again, wildly. “Why? Where will you go? Where will you live?”

“Why? Because I’m tired of the treadmill, nose to the grindstone, following the rules.” Maggie shrugged. “Who knows, maybe I’ll join the circus.”

“I don’t believe I’m hearing this.” As if unable to remain still, Hannah began to pace back and forth in front of the table. “To give up your job, sell your apartment…” Hannah threw up her hands. “That’s crazy.”

“Hannah—” Maggie came close to shouting “—I feel crazy.”

“So you’re just going to take off?”

“Yes.”

“For how long, for Pete’s sake?”

Maggie hesitated, shrugged, then answered, “Until I’m broke, or no longer feel crazy enough to break things and hurt people… Todd what’s-his-name in particular.”

“Oh, Maggie,” Hannah murmured in commiseration, dropping onto her chair. “He’s not worth all this anguish.”

“I know that,” Maggie agreed. “But knowing it doesn’t help. So I’m cutting out, cutting loose.”

“But, Maggie…” Hannah actually wailed.

Maggie shook her head, hard. “You can’t change my mind, Hannah. I’ve got the itch to run free for a while and I’m going to scratch it.”

“But you must have some idea where you’re going,” Hannah persisted, always the one for detail.

“No.” Maggie shrugged. “Who knows, maybe I’ll wind up in Nebraska.”

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