Бетти Смит - Maggie-Now

She took the mutton from the bowl, wiped it dry and braised it in hot bacon drippings until it was a golden brown. She transferred it to her'oig, heavy iron pot, added five peppercorns, salt.

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a new bay leaf and a cup of water. She let it boil up, put the heav v lid on and turned the hea, down to simmering.

She fixed a simple salad in her old, warped, wooden salad bowl: chopped lettuce, grated onion, slivers of green pepper, crumbs of Roquefort cheese and olive oil and vinegar dressing with seasonings and a pinch of sugar.

At ten o'clock, Dennv, all washed and pressed, left for the children's Class. Maggie Now dressed herself carefully, wishing she had a new dress but released that she had the new hat she had bought that week. JUst before eleven, she put the potatoes and carrots (wl-~ich she had scrubbed earlier) into the pot, added the peeled onions, let the whole thing boil up once more, and then put the heat down to simn1er. It wouLl be done to a tender turn when they got back front church.

She wet the cork of a little of oil of cloves that her father used for his toothaches, and touched the cork to each hand (in case her hands still smelled like onions), and rubbed until the pungent scent vvas sorrlewhat faint and smelled a little like spicy carnations. She took a fresh handkerchief from the box where it had rested all week on a bag of or, — isroot, and was ready for her church and her Claude.

He Noms waiting outside the church. She thought he looked handsome in his freshly pressed suit and shined shoes. He had a package and a book under his arm. The children's Mass was just getting out and Denny ran over to say hello. Claude asked Dennv to take the package and t,ook home.

"And don't open the package to look," said Maggie-NoNv.

"I won't," he promised.

"And nobody's home so don't go near the stokes hears" "I never no near the stave."

a, "Promise me plain."

'I won't go near the stove."

He walked down the street, holding the package up to his ear and shaking it.

"Margaret," whispered Claude as they entered the church 'how will I know what to do?"

"Do whatever I do," she whispered back.

They remained after the Mass was over because Claude wanted n, examine the Stations of the Cross and see the details of the

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altars. He watched fondly while she knelt before the statue of Saint Anthony, lit a candle and bowed her head briefly.

She stood up and smiled at him.

"Why did you do that?" he asked.

"For my intention."

"What was your intention?"

"I can't tell you." She couldn't tell him that she had prayed to the saint, asking him to intercede for her in gaining Claude's love.

Father Flynn was standing outside the church in cassock and biretta, enjoying the spring air and anticipating the goodness of the Easter dinner that would break his long fast. He greeted Maggie-Now and looked sharply at Claude.

"Father," she said, "I want to introduce Mr. Bassett.

Claude Bassett." To Claude, she said: "This is Father Flynn."

Claude started to extend his hand, then drew it back. He didn't know whether to bow, genuflect or shake hands. The priest noticed his confusion and reached out and grasped Claude's hand. Claude didn't know whether to address him as Father, Reverend or Mister. He decided on "sir."

"How do you do, sir."

"I am pleased to know you," said the priest.

Father Flynn watched them go down the street. So she's found her Fran, he mused. And his faith isn't the saline as hers. He sighed deeply.

Denny was sitting on the stoop with the packages because the door was locked and he couldn't get in. Denny was disappointed when Claude took the package and book from him. He had thought he'd say: Keep the package, a present for you.

When they entered the house, Claude said what thousands of men were saying all over the country at that same time: "Something smells good."

And women were answering: "I hope it tastes good," or "Why shouldn't it smell good? I spent the whole morning cooking it." But Maggie-Now said: "Oh, it's nothing. Just some meat and potatoes."

He followed her out into the kitchen, informing her that he was the type who peered into pots to see what was cooking. He told her it was the most beautiful kitchen he'd ever seen.

She looked around the large room, wondering whatever an 1 229]

other person could see in it. There was the plate shelf running around the walls with her mother's hand-painted china plates leaning against the wall. The wooden bowls for the morning oatmeal stood on the shelf and her blue willowware dishes. The cups hung by hooks from the bottom of the shelf.

"Reminds me of the kitchens in Devon," he said. "They have blue willowware with the cups hung up like that."

"Oh, those," she said. "Everybody around here has dishes like these. You get them for trading stamps. It's such a common pattern."

"Is it, my little Chinee;" he asked.

The conversation bored Denny. He went out to the front room and sat on the lounge next to the package, sweating out the time until Claude should either open it himself or give it to him, Denny.

Maggie-Now was chattering away in the kitchen. '`I like those dishes, though. Lots of women keep them in dish closets but I like them where I can look at them. The way some people like to look at books."

While she was talking, she thickened the gravy with flour and stirred in a teaspoon of grated horseradish. On each of tluee plates she placed a thick slice of mutton, three of the small new potatoes with their skins flaking off, a couple of soft but intact baby carrots and a ladleful of soft, almost transparent, tiny onions. She gave the mutton a thick coat ing of the pungent gravy and called Denny to the table. Before she sat down, she set the wooden bowl full of salad in the middle of the table.

She watched anxiously as Claude took his first bite of the mutton "Venison!" he amlounced.

"No," she said. "Just mutton."

"No, my little Chinee. Venison afar something better."

She flushed with pleasure.

Denny, feeling the oneness between theta, and feeling left out in the cold, pushed his plate away. This had his hoped-for result. He got his sister's attention away from Claude.

"NONV what?" she asked.

"I'm not hungry," he answered.

"Eat!" said his sister.

"But I don't like it."

"Eat it anyhow." She explained to Clande: "He's been eating

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eggs from his Easter basket, that's why he's not hungry."

"Just two," Denny mumbled.

But he ate everything on his plate. So did Claude and so did Maggie-Now. Claude had some gravy left on his plate.

He looked over the table, wondering why there was no bread and butter.

"This wonderful gravy," he said, "cries out for a piece of bread to sop it up with." Denny opened his mouth to say something.

"Don't tell him, Denny," said Maggie-Now sharply.

"Tell me what?" he asked smiling.

"About the dessert," she said. "It's supposed to be a surprise. Do you want more gravy?" Yes, he did. She poured a ladleful on his plate and gave him a spoon.

"Please use this for the gravy,'? she said graciously.

"Denny, will you gr ind the coffee while 1 go and get the dessert? "

"Okay."

"Denny," said Claude, "I'll give you a nickel if you'll let Ate grind the coffee." The deal was consummated.