“And now she’s brought me to you,” Maggie whispered, feeling her chest tighten with anxiety.
“Maggie, it’s not like that.” Aaron took her hands in his.
“Isn’t it?” she asked. She could feel the tears building. “Then why am I here?”
“I don’t know. I don’t know why either of us are here. But does it really matter? Does it have to? Maybe she’s just some lonely old woman who wants to help people, wants to do something good before she dies. She has no children, no family. Maybe she picked us at random, maybe she didn’t. All I really care about is the fact that I’m happier than I’ve ever been in my life. I don’t care how it came to be, I’m just happy that I met you. I’m happy that I’m here, I’m happy that you’re here.” Maggie could see the desperation in his eyes and hear it in his voice.
“I’m happy too,” she assured him as she leaned against him and let him pull her close. She could feel his tension melt away as he wrapped his arms around her.
It was true, she was happy but she was also terrified. The scariest part, Maggie realized, was that everything that had been given to them could just as easily be ripped away.
21
The next day passed in a blur. At work Maggie finished sorting the items from the trunk. She went about the task more mechanically this time, not really seeing the pictures, no longer reading the headlines of the newspaper clippings. Her mind was consumed with the enigma that was her life right now.
At the bottom of the trunk she came across a leather bound journal. Something about it caught her eye, broke through the haze in her mind. She gently opened it, taking care with the stiff old pages. She found page after page of hand written notes which she realized were listings of names and dates.
As she examined the faded pages she began to see a pattern. Most entries had three names listed, one male, one female, and the third name varied, but all three names included the same surname. Beside each listing was a date. Maggie tried to make sense of the names and dates but her tired mind just couldn’t focus long enough.
Toward the back of the journal Maggie found one entry that stood out from the rest. Only one name was listed: Agnes Devereaux. There were no other names listed along hers, only the date February 3, 1954.
“Who did this trunk belong to?” Maggie asked Ms. Brandy as she carried the old journal over to her.
“That came from Mrs. Robbins estate,” Ms. Brandy explained.
“The doctor’s wife?”
“Yes, she just passed away a few months ago. Since they had no children her estate went up for auction last month.”
“Do you think this could have belonged to Doc Robbins?” Maggie asked, handing her the journal.
“Well, let’s see,” Ms. Brandy said, sliding on her reading glasses and examining the book. “Sure looks like it. I’d wager these are probably the birthdates of all the babies he delivered over the years,” Ms. Brandy said, handing the journal back to her.
“Birthdates?”
But Agnes Devereaux’s name was listed in the book and she hadn’t had any children. Had she?
“Honey, you look exhausted. Why don’t you head on home, get some sleep? Take tomorrow off,” Ms. Brandy instructed.
“Okay,” Maggie said absentmindedly as she stumbled out the door.
She didn’t even remember the drive home. She seemed to be running on autopilot. She felt mentally exhausted from running circles in her own mind and she was still no closer to making sense of any of it. She didn’t even realize she’d taken the journal until she pulled to a stop in the driveway and looked down to see it in her lap.
Barney met her at the door, walking circles through her legs and rubbing his head against her feet until she paused to lean down and scratch his head.
“Did you miss me?” she asked as she pet the purring cat. He followed her all the way to the base of the stairs and then meowed irritably when she began to ascend.
“Oh don’t be a scaredy cat. Just come up,” Maggie encouraged, but he just sat at the foot of the stairs staring after her.
Maggie shook her head and continued to climb the steps to her room with the single minded goal of taking a long, hot bath. As she turned toward her room something in her mind registered an aberration. Something was different. Maggie stopped in the hallway and turned slowly to face the East wing. She stared down the dark corridor but saw nothing unusual. She took a few steps in that direction, straining to see through the darkness, but there was nothing but the same bleak emptiness that always emanated from that abandoned wing.