Бетти Смит: Maggie-Now

"I did not!" she said hotly. "I know you don't like me.

And I don't like you either. I come to see you only because it pleases Dennis when I do. Well, I've paid my visit. Good-by." She left.

She's got spunk, that ooze, he thought. Me son's in good hands. After a while, his room got cold. He forgot that he had turned off the heat. He grabbed his shillelagh and banged on the radiator pipes.

"Heat, O'Crawley!!' he bawled. "Heat, Goddamn it! "

Slle came up to his room. "Where's me heat?" he hollered.

She knelt down and turned the valve. There was an immediate hiss and gurgle. "You turned it off," she said reproachfully.

He looked at the slender, aging woman kneeling there, her small, work-worn hand resting on the valve. There was something tender and vulnerable about the arch of her slender, bent back.

And so had a young girl, long ago, knelt in a field in Kilkenny County to pluck a daisy to put in his buttonhole and her young back had had that same tender and vulnerable look. He thought briefly of Maggie Rose and lingeringly of Mary Moriarity.

"Me first wife was named Mary," he said. "And the one I'm taking for me second wife is Mary, too."

She got: up and clasped her hands ecstatically. "Oh, my man, dear! "

"No fancy wedding, now," he warned her.

And it was done and he made his permanent home at the vidow's house. When l\laggie-Now realized her father had moved 'ut for good, she felt sty angely depressed.

l hat year Claude came home late, the second creek in December. Maggie-Now was shocked at his appearance.

Fle had gotten quite thin and his clothes were nearly in rags and he had an irritating c ought He Dent away too far t/JiS year, she thought in dismay.

Where it tubas too cold. Arzd he angst have IJad a hard time getting back.

1 Ales 1 In her presence, he unpinned the gold piece and took it out of his pocket. "I almost needed it this thee," he said. "But I managed to get through without it." He put the coin in her hand. "You'll never need to pin it in my coat again. I'm never going away

, again.

He pulled a package front his pocket. "My last coming-home present to you. Open it."

It was a beautiful thing; a sea gull made of alabaster. It was poised in flight on a bit of ebony wood. The whole thing NN7:15 only six inches high.

"It's so beautiful," she said, "that it hurts to look at it."

"Of all the creatures of creation, the gull is the loveliest.

And the most free. The blue sky and the bluer sea and a gull poised in the wind. . alone. . free. . nothing but sky and sea and wind and bird.

"Oh, if there is a life after death; if one could return to earth in another form, I would lie a sea gull!"

She shuddered. "You'll always go," she said sadly. "And I'll always miss you."

He took her by her arms and pulled her close to him.

"Margaret, look at me! I will never to away again. There will never be a reason for me to go."

Timidly, she ventured a question. She asked it in a whisper: "Did you find what you were looking for?"

For the first time in their life together, he gave her a definite answer. He said: "Yes."

He said no more and she asked for no more.

Later they went to bed. As the years had gone by, their lovemaking had imperceptibly changed. Once it had been a wild, passionate thing; as if thert had to be a surfeit of love. NONV, it was a wonderful surcease from not having had love for so long all during the months he'd been away.

Two days later Claude became very ill. It seemed like a routine cold at first. Only it didn t respond to the usual home treatment. When his fever went high and he babbled of inconsequential things, she sent for the doctor.

"It looks like flu," said the doctor. "Yes, Spanish influenza. That's strange, though. We haven't had any of that since the World War. Strange. .

1 4!- 1 "Have the children shown any symptoms?"

"The children?"

"It's very contagious and I'm afraid the children must leave, Mrs. Bassett."

"No!" she cried out.

"They're too young to survive if. . You wouldn't vvant anything to happen to any one of them, would you?"

"No, oh, no!"

"I'll have to notify the home." He was the home doctor for the children.

In two hours, the home nurse and an assistant came in a car for the babies. They wouldn't let Maggie-Now dress the children. They brought blankets and clothes from the home. They put masks on when they went into the babies'

rooms. The nurse was very severe with Maggic-Now telling her sharply that the home should have been notified earlier. Of course, Maggie-Now couldn't even tell ':he children good-by.

Szlddenly it's all over, thought Maggie-Now. I mustn't think of the children. I have Claude. Please God, she prayed, don't let anything happen to him. Holy Mary, Mother of God, I beseech thee. .

Claude got over the flu. It left him weak. And no matter how she tended him, how many custards and how much chicken broth she made for him, he didn't improve. She put the rocking chair near the coal range and put pillows in it. He sat there and she gave him a footstool to keep his feet off the floor and put a blanket over his knees.

He was content to sit there holding on his lap the little Siamese cat he had once brought her and to watch Maggie-Now at her household duties. He watched the time go by, smiling when the cuckoo clock struck and the canary in its cage rapturously burst into competitive song.

"We are alone together, love," he said. "For the first time. Your father's gone and Denny. ." He didn't mention the children because he knew she'd cry.

"I'm glad I've got you, Claude. So glad! And you are my father, my brother and my children all in one. If I have you, I need no one else."

"Were you frightened, love, when I was sick?"

[4~8] "No. I was worried though."

"I was frightened," he said. "Oh, not of dying. I'm no fool. I know we'll all die someday just as sure as we're born. I was frightened of being put in a covered box and being put in the earth."

"Let me. I've always been free. I hate darkness and small places; small dark rooms with closed doors. I never want to he tucked away somewhere."

"It's getting cold in here," she said. "I'll poke up the fire."

"No. Listen, Margaret. Where is that little gull I brought you?"

"I'll get it for you."

He held it in his hand and ran a finger over the spread alabaster wings.

The little cat on his lap got up, arched its back, gave the canary in the cage a baleful look, and jumped to the floor.

Maggie-Now picked up the cat and held it close.

Claude spoke all in a rush. "I wouldn't be so frightened I'd even be contented if I were sure that my ashes would be thrown to the winds over the sea where gulls are flying."

She trembled so much that the cat struggled to get out of her arms. She held the cat against its will. "No, Claude.

No! I won't do it! If there is a life after death and I

know there is I want us to be together in it. And that couldn't be if you. ."

"Do you love me, Margaret?"

She let the cat go then and Vent over and held Claude tightly "My darling, my dear, my love, my everything," she said. She was trembling.

"There, Margaret! There now, Maggie-Now. There!"

After a while, she said: "Mr. Van Clees sent over a bottle of very fine cognac for you. And Annie made some wonderful calf's foot jelly for you. How about a nice hot cup of tea with lemon and sugar and half cognacs And toast and sweet butter and calf's foot jelly spread on top?"