Maggie squeezed the hand that still held hers, comforting him in return. Gus sat without speaking for a time.
“The truth is, Margaret, I just loved Mona more. I saw her strength and her patience, her gentle heart, and her love for me and her desire to shield me from pain. All those things were more beautiful to me than her curves or her pretty hair. All those wonderful traits were on display like they’d never been before, and she took my breath away. I loved her more when she died than I did the day I married her. The woman I married was beautiful, but the woman I lost was stunning.
“Don’t forget your miracle so quickly, Miss Margaret. The hard times are often the best times, ‘cause they draw you closer. You should be singin’ hallelujahs from the rooftops - celebratin’.”
Gus’s voice was gentle, and Maggie didn’t take offense. Though she thought she had reason enough to want to forget, she wouldn’t forget her miracle - not now, not ever. Even though he had forgotten her.
~4~
A Time to Plant
“Maggie?” Irene started, dishing up a small portion of her famous coleslaw. “Remember a few months ago when we cleaned up the attic and donated all that stuff to Goodwill?”
Maggie nodded absently, wishing she could find a place to dance her despair away. She ached for the escape and considered removing her bed from her room to give her more floor space. Since the school had burned down and she’d been released from the hospital, she hadn’t danced once. She needed it more than the food Irene kept piling on her plate. She needed it almost as desperately as she needed Johnny.
“We didn’t by any chance give away a record player, did we?” Irene worried. “I don’t remember seeing it. I promised the ladies at the historical society that we could have it for our auction coming up here in a few weeks. It should be worth something. It still works just fine, and it has all those old 45s in perfect condition.” Irene sighed. “I got nervous all of a sudden that maybe I’d had one of my senior moments and given it away without thinking.”
Something niggled at Maggie, and she sat for a minute, trying to pull it forward. “I know we didn’t give a record player away…but I don’t remember seeing it either. Whose record player was it, Aunt Irene?”
“It was Lizzie’s. She loved it. It was in her room upstairs until she got married and moved out. When Roger and I moved back into this house after Daddy died, it was still there, right where she had left it. When I made that room into a nursery, I moved it upstairs into the attic. It hasn’t been used since – but it still worked when I moved it up there so….Maggie? Are you all right, dear?”
“Did she used to have a bear she called Jamie?” Maggie blurted out.
Irene blinked once, twice, and then stuttered out, “Why….yes! She did. She named him after James Dean….” Her voice trailed off.
“What Maggie? What is it?”
“I saw her….I mean, I think I did. When I was in a coma….I had a dream. At least I think it was a dream. I was in her room. The record player sat under one window. There were records on the floor. She was sitting on her bed, talking to the bear. It was so funny that I laughed. She saw me. She thought I was a ghost….”
Gus and Irene were staring at her, their spoons halfway to their mouths. In unison, they set their spoons back on their plates.
“She saw you?” Irene squeaked.
“Yes! We talked for few moments and then….something pulled me away. Gus pulled me away. He was telling me to wake up, that Johnny needed me. She, Lizzie, called after me, and told me to stay.” Maggie’s eyes were unfocused, looking beyond Gus and Irene, remembering how real it had all been. “It wasn’t the first time, either. The other time I was with Johnny – riding next to him in your daddy’s big black car. A Buick?” Irene’s jaw dropped.
“Daddy did have a big, black, Buick….but why would Johnny be driving it?”
“He was taking it to Gene’s for a tune-up….I think. I remember feeling so happy, wishing I could stay right there beside him…but he couldn’t see me like Lizzie could. Although he did say my name...” Maggie’s voice trailed off in puzzlement. She had forgotten that part.
“Lawdy, lawdy,” Gus marveled with a short whistle. A deep frown curved his mouth, and his eyes were wide with fear. “You best be careful, Miss Margaret.”
“Careful?….Why?” Maggie and Irene both gazed at Gus in surprise.
“This all reminds me of my grandma. She saw ghosts…just like you do. Just like you, she claimed most the time it was like she was seein’ somethin’ from the past, someone doin’ somethin’ they’d done many times. Or she’d see somethin’ happen that had a great deal of emotion attached to it…battle scenes, things like that. She said sometimes the things she saw were so real that she almost forgot where she was, like she got pulled into their stories. One time she was traveling North with my grandpa….this was in the early nineteen twenties or so, mind you…long past the days of the Underground Railroad. You know ‘bout the Underground Railroad, Miss Margaret?”
Maggie nodded her head. “It was a network of routes and safe houses and people that helped runaway slaves get to the free states and Canada, right?”