Chapter 6: Alone

Southampton

The swing was creaky. Her father had promised to look into it, to see if he could switch out the rope or tie it to a different branch, but he hadn’t gotten a chance to, and with every sway to and fro, Meggy was reminded that her father wasn’t coming home this time. She would never see him again.

Her mother had said he’d had a heart attack, and when she’d questioned what that meant, she’d been sent out of the room. Later, Patsy had explained that his heart had stopped working, and now he was in heaven with Jesus. Meggy didn’t think it was fair that Jesus could just take her Da like that. Didn’t he have enough other people to keep him company? Her Da was the only person in the whole world she’d wanted to keep, and now he was gone. Forever.

“Whatcha doin’?” Ezra asked sneaking around the back of the tree.

“Nothing,” Meggy replied, still slumped against one of the ropes.

“Want me to push you?”

“No, thank you.”

He came around to stand in front of her, a solemn expression on his face. He was nine, older than Meggy by a few years, and better understood what had happened. “Sorry about your Da.”

She squinted up at him, as he was standing almost directly in front of the sun, and then dropped her eyes back to the ground. “Thank you.”

“My papa said that it was fast at least. I suppose that’s a good thing. He didn’t suffer.”

Meggy dragged the toe of her shoe through the dirt. “I would rather not talk about it, Ezra,” she replied without looking up at him.

He continued to stand there for a moment. She could feel his eyes on the top of her head, but after a bit, he gave up and sauntered away, leaving her with her sorrow.

She’d cried for the first day or so. The next day had been the service at the church and the cemetery. She hadn’t gone—her mother said it was no place for a small child, and she was liable to act out and cause a scene. Meggy knew differently, knew she would have been very respectful. She’d wanted to see him one last time, but her mother had forbidden it. In the end, she supposed it was just as well. The last memory she had of her father would be of him coming in to wish her sweet dreams.

That night, she’d slept remarkably well. No one had woke her in the middle of the night to tell her what had happened in the parlor just below her room. Sometimes she could hear the sounds from downstairs through the radiator. But not that night. It wasn’t until after she’d dressed and eaten breakfast that her mother told her in a matter-of-fact tone, “Mary Margaret, your father died last night.” If Patsy hadn’t been there to comfort and explain, she wasn’t sure what she would have done. As it was, she was still having trouble understanding what had happened and that her father would never come home again.

The sun was starting to sink below the horizon, and she decided it was time to go in. No one had paid her much attention lately, not even Patsy, as she had been given lots of other assignments. She had spent quite a bit of time alone, and despite the fact that she was not allowed to go outside unaccompanied, her mother hadn’t noticed. Now, as she slipped back in through the side door, she heard voices coming from the parlor, including her mother’s, and knew that she hadn’t noticed the coming or the going.

She heard her uncle’s voice as well and the voice of a man she did not recognize. Whatever it was that he was saying, her mother and uncle didn’t seem to appreciate it very much, as the more he spoke, the louder and shriller their voices became.

“You’re certain there is absolutely nothing that can be done?” her mother was asking as Meggy took a few steps toward the adjoining parlor.

“No, everything is perfectly legal. He had it notarized just last week when he was in New York,” the strange voice explained.

“And it doesn’t matter that it took place in another country, for crying out loud?” her uncle asked.

“No, the will itself was written and signed here, in his lawyer’s office, in Southampton. It was just the final piece, where Ashton agreed, that took place in New York City. It’s legally binding.”

Her uncle let go a string of words Meggy was not allowed to repeat, and she jumped back a bit; she couldn’t remember ever hearing him so absolutely irate.

“Bertram, calm down!” her mother insisted. “There’s no need to lose your head over this now. We have years to figure it all out before any of this goes into effect, right Mr. Steele?”

“Yes, madam. The company will stay in Bertram’s name until Mary Margaret either marries Charles Ashton or turns twenty-one,” the stranger, Mr. Steele, agreed.

“Let us continue to explore other options. Perhaps John Ashton will reconsider. Perhaps he will make another agreement with you that will supersede this one.” Her mother sounded calmer than Uncle Bertram, but Meggy knew that tone, knew that it meant someone was likely to meet with Mildred Westmoreland’s wrath in a matter of moments.

“I honestly don’t think there is anything that can be done….” Mr. Steele was saying, but Meggy heard the screech of wooden chair legs on the oak floor, and her mother interrupted.

“Thank you, Mr. Steele, for your time. We appreciate your assessment. Now, if you’ll excuse us, you can imagine that Bertram and I have much to do.”

Meggy took that as her cue to disappear before she was found out, and as she heard three sets of footsteps walking away from her toward the front door, she ducked back around toward the kitchen, hoping not to be found out.