Gene and Maggie Part 2

Nobody Saw it Comin’

Listen to the audio narration on YouTube at: https://youtu.be/W_ZOsx0rGAI

On January 8, 1950, after chores were done, Walter took Maggie an’ Leland to stay with her parents in Greenfield, twelve miles north. They were much closer to the doctor who was treatin’ her ongoin’ flu symptoms. Livin’ this far out in the country like they did, in this kind of weather, she was lucky to see him once a month. Now, his house calls could be made several times a week.

Her little sister had married the year before an’ moved to Missouri to join her husband on his family’s large farm, leavin’ Maggie the only daughter still close enough for Anna an’ Peter to fuss over. They didn’t mind.

A month later, although still bitter cold, February was a little better for travel. With Maggie feelin’ stronger, Walt started comin’ for Sunday dinner. He stayed well into the evenin’ when he visited, but never overnight. He had to get back to the farm.

On February 5th, they celebrated Walt’s thirty-sixth birthday with warm bread puddin’ an’ homemade whipped cream that Leland said looked like snow. Two weeks later, after dinner on a clear, cold February Sunday, under a piercin’ blue sky, Maggie climed into the truck beside Walter and headed home, leavin’ Leland with her parents. She was glad for the week-long respite, back in her own house.

Maggie was still on the mend, an’ although she an’ Walter slept in the same bed, they touched each other only one time that week.

On Sunday, February 26, right after church, Walter returned Maggie to her parents’ home. Leland’s grandparents were from Denmark. He called them Mormor and Orfa. I always figured “Orfa” was just the best a three-year-old little boy could do with “Morfar,” an’ the name stuck. Stayin’ with them was the highlight of his young life. They knew how to spoil a little boy.

When Walter an’ Maggie stepped through the door, Leland came runnin’, his little arms outstretched as he threw himself into his mama’s legs. “Mama! Daddy!” he cried, his face lightin’ up like the sun. Maggie bent down, scoopin’ him up with an ease that surprised her after all she’d been through. It was a moment of unexpected joy, the simple happiness they all had been longing’ for.

Peter an’ Anna stood nearby, watchin’ their daughter an’ her family. Peter clapped Walter on the shoulder, “Good to see you both,” he said, his voice steady but warm. “Maggie, you’re lookin’ better already.”

Anna wiped her hands on her apron, then pressed it to her eyes, shimmerin’ with happy tears. “Let’s have a little toast before dinner,” she said, usherin’ ‘em all toward the sittin’ room.

Anna had set out a plate of delicate almond wreath cookies, just like her own Mormor used to make, an’ four glasses of peach schnapps on the family’s oak sideboard that held her best china and linens. The warm glow of the polished wood added a touch of elegance to the modest gathering, as the Jensen’s prepared to toast their daughter’s improvin’ health.

Leland reached for a cookie, but his Mormor gently tapped his hand. “Not yet, little one,” she said with a smile.

Peter raised his glass; his voice filled with gratitude an’ hope. “To Maggie,” he said, glancin’ around the room. “For health, for strength, an’ for brighter days ahead.”

“Skål!” they all echoed, liftin’ their glasses in unison in the tradition of their Danish ancestors. Maggie’s smile was small but genuine as she sipped the sweet schnapps, the warmth spreadin’ through her chest. Even Leland was handed a tiny glass, filled with apple juice instead. He clinked it against his parents’ glasses, gigglin’ as the grown-ups laughed.

It was at gatherings like this one that Walter learned to appreciate the taste an’ delightful warmin’ effect of peach schnapps. His in laws called it Hygge (Hue-guh)— comfort, contentment, an’ well-bein’, enjoyin’ the simple pleasures of life with loved ones, held in a tiny crystal glass in the palm of his hand.

His father-in-law, born in Denmark, understood wet, windy, bone-chillin’ cold weather, an’ how to survive it with a smile on his face. Peter was seventeen in 1907, not yet a man when he immigrated to America, but his father had taught him well. Walter couldn’t think of a better way to spend a blustery, cold February Sunday.

The melt-in-your-mouth almond cookies that Anna’s grandmother taught her to make were pillows of heaven that promised better days to come. It was a simple moment, that felt profound; a shared hope for healin’ an’ a future filled with many more of these happy gatherings to come. Laughter an’ chatter filled the house, an’ for a little while, the worries of the adults melted away in the glow of a little boy’s happiness to be with his mama an’ daddy.

Dinner that evenin’ was simple and delicious: meatballs in rich brown gravy served over mashed potatoes with red cabbage, corn, an’ homemade rolls. Ever’one around the table was happy to see Maggie’s appetite return in force, an’ she was more’n happy to clean her plate. It’d been so long since she felt good, it took her by surprise. The last time she’d had this much fun in the state of Iowa was the night she challenged Walter to leave his fiddle on stage an’ come dance with her.

When Walter left to go back to their farm later that evenin’, Maggie was sorry to see him go. Sorry to see the night end. They didn’t get many like this one.

Her husband was a quiet, steady man who took days to mull over somethin’ she could decide in minutes. It could be maddenin’ to wait for the wheels in his head to turn toward an answer. Spontaneity was never a problem for Walter; he didn’t believe in it.

They couldn’t be more opposite. But it was his steady ways an’ never-endin’ determination to make her better that had gotten her this far.

Still, as she lay in bed that night listenin’ to the wind rattle the windows, an old ache stirred inside her, a restlessness she couldn’t quite name. It was nothin’, just the quiet, just the winter, just the way things had always been.

She loved him, an’ she knew he loved her, so admittin’ to her daily boredom on the farm was one among many other things that she would never share.

She rolled over an’ closed her eyes.

The next day Dr. Gantz stopped by with good news. He believed Maggie’s illness could be cured by a new medicine, streptomycin. It worked like a miracle on several of his patients an’ he thought it would work for her too. If she was willin’ to try it, he’d put in an order an’ in about ten days, she should be able to start gettin’ a lot better a lot faster. It was almost too good to believe. She’d been sick long enough to wonder if she’d ever feel good again. Seein’ a light at the end of that dark tunnel felt like a miracle — even before she got the medicine.

After such a happy reunion the day before an’ now this good news, Maggie could feel her body respondin’, gettin’ stronger already. Almost good enough to go into town with her parents an’ Leland the next day. Tuesday was their shoppin’ day, an’ little Leland had become accustomed to bein’ even more spoiled than usual. That trip always meant a few extra pieces of candy from the General Store an’ lunch at the diner where his favorite waitress gave him a piece of pie with ice cream on top. Tuesday was his favorite day.

Maggie almost went along, but when she woke up, as good as she was feelin’ after the doctor’s visit, she knew it would be best to stay home. Leland left with his Mormor and Orfa right after breakfast. It was a cold day, so Maggie bundled him up right through his complaints. When he was finally ready to go, the clock struck 9:00 am an’ Maggie was feelin’ winded. She was glad to see the door close an’ the house go silent when the trio finally headed out.

Livin’ with her parents on their farm wasn’t as quiet as life on the farm with Walter, an’ she was glad for it. They were much closer to town. Just a quarter mile from the school. Kids walkin’ down the road with their books tied in a bundle, an’ the Mailman makin’ his rounds as her father's farmhands worked in the barn, was background noise that she enjoyed an’ often missed when she was so far away from civilization.

Maggie was lost in her thoughts, sittin’ at the kitchen table drinkin’ a second cup of coffee, when a strong knock came at the back door. Lookin’ in the direction of the sound, she saw the shadow of a large man through the lace curtain that covered nine windowpanes. Her heart began to pound. There was only one person she knew who stood at that massive height. She hadn’t seen him in four years, but right now, it felt like yesterday.

Maggie’s head was spinnin’, but not for the reason the doctor would expect. There was only one time when her boredom on the farm had been lifted, an’ she was sure that reason was standin’ at the back door right now. Takin’ a deep breath an’ drainin’ her coffee cup, she wiped her hands on her apron, walked through the kitchen, an’ made her way toward the scullery.

The room felt colder without Mama here. The faint scent of lye soap lingered near the sink, an’ the late-winter sunlight slanted through the big windows, highlightin’ the neat rows of canned vegetables that were tucked onto the shelves.

Maggie’s footsteps on the wood floor seemed louder’n they shoulda been, echoin’ off the walls. Her fingers brushed the edge of the counter as she passed, a small groundin’ gesture she wasn’t even aware of.

The knock came again, firmer this time, as if the visitor was growin’ impatient. Maggie swallowed, the quiet house around her suddenly feelin’ too big, an’ way too empty. When she reached the door, her hand hesitated on the knob. If she had any doubts about who stood on the other side, they all disappeared. Maggie knew her parents didn’t receive visitors on a Tuesday, not when the whole town knew they’d be gone.

She pulled the door open, an’ there he was—Gene Smith. The sight of him hit her harder’n the gust of winter wind that came through the door behind him. His easy smile carried a mix of mischief an’ charm.

“Mornin’, Maggie,” he drawled, his voice as familiar as it was unexpected.

Maggie’s breath hitched, her heart poundin’ so hard she was sure he could hear it. She gripped the doorknob tighter, her voice comin’ out softer’n she meant. “Gene? What are you doin’ here?” Her surprise was clear, but so was the spark of somethin’ else, somethin’ she’d leave buried for now.

Gene told her he had stopped by to see Darrell, but she didn’t believe him.

It felt like part of a plan, showin’ up in the middle of the mornin’ while her parents an’ Leland were in town all day. Besides, Darrell worked at the Farm Co-Op an’ Supply. Gene knew that. He wasn’t foolin’ her none. Gene was good at showin’ up when he wasn’t expected, but never without a reason.

Gene had quit the co-op a few months earlier to start drivin’ a delivery truck an’ work part-time with his stepfather in Grinnell. A visit to Greenfield in the middle of a Tuesday mornin’ was unusual. Maggie knew that, but what she didn’t know was that Darrell had told Gene she was still sick. He felt like he had to come see her again.

Seein’ him standin’ there like no time had passed at all, her chest tightened, like she’d been caught unawares by a strong wind.

“Darrell ain’t here,” she said, glancin’ toward the road behind the house.

Gene shrugged. “Don’t matter much. Just passin’ through. Didn’t really figure I’d run into anybody anyway. Just thought I’d see how you’re doin’ before I get gone. Don’t you ever get tired of all the quiet around here?”

He leaned against the doorframe, his eyes lingerin’ on hers. When she didn’t answer, he just said, “Been a while, Maggie.”

It had been more’n four years since that September when they’d stolen moments together that neither of ‘em ever spoke of again. They’d seen each other in passin’ a few times, but since Darrell moved to town, that was rare. To see each other in private like this never happened. But now, here he was, lookin’ at her the way Walter hadn’t in a long time. That look brought back a flood of memories, feelings she thought she’d forgotten.

Once, Walter had looked at her like she was the only woman in the world, back in Florida, back when their love came easy. Now, all she saw in him was weariness. She told herself it didn’t matter. But here Gene was, lookin’ at her like she was somethin’ worth wantin’, an’ suddenly, she wasn’t so sure.

Walter was a good man who worked hard to take care of her an’ Leland. But standin’ there, lookin’ at Gene, she realized it wasn’t enough. Her breath caught at the thought, shame risin’ in her throat. She wanted to be faithful to her husband, to honor the vows she’d made, but she couldn’t ignore the truth clawing its way to the surface.

She still loved Walt, but somewhere along the way things had changed. She thought of their time in Florida when it felt like they’d be lovers in love forever, no matter what happened. The realization of how much had changed hit her like a blow, leavin’ her dizzy an’ unsteady.

And Gene… Gene was different. He wasn’t just Darrell’s best friend anymore. He was a man she’d thought of more often than she cared to admit. A man who looked at her with desire, somethin’ she hadn’t seen in years. She felt her heart ache, torn between loyalty to a marriage that felt like an obligation an’ the overwhelmin’ pull of a love she hadn’t meant to feel.

Maggie hesitated, thinkin’ about how empty the house was an’ how long it’d be before her parents returned.

Her fingers flexed on the doorframe. The house was empty. Walt was miles away. And Gene… Gene was standing right in front of her, waitin’. The words came before she could stop ‘em.

“You want some coffee?” she asked, her voice soft.

He smiled, an’ stepped inside.

Gene would visit Maggie two more times, knockin’ at the scullery door when she’d have the whole day ahead of her, all alone, except for him. He always left right before the house filled up with the happy sounds of her three-year-old son an’ her mama an’ daddy’s updates of people they’d seen, an’ gossip they’d heard.

Maggie stood at the back door ever’ time he left, watchin’ him take long strides toward his truck parked under the oak tree near the road. He never hurried, never glanced over his shoulder. Just walked like he belonged there. She remembered him once sayin’ the best way to get away with somethin’ you shouldn’t be doin’ was to do it right out in the open. Act like you’re right where you’re supposed to be. And Lord help her, it was workin’.

When he opened the driver’s door an’ bent his powerful frame to get in, she caught her breath. How could this be the same bratty little kid her little brother dragged around like a stray pup?

On that last Tuesday Maggie was hurtin’. She knew it would be their last time together like this, but the ache ran deeper’n that. The streptomycin injections she received near-daily made her arm sore with fever, achin’ straight to the bone. She was gettin’ better, she could feel it, but on that day, gettin’ better felt a whole lot more like feelin’ worse.

Most of that last mornin’ was spent recallin’ their childhood innocence, like they both knew this would be their last time to talk about it. At seven years old, Gene had to grow up fast when his daddy walked out an’ set up house keepin’ down the street with Jeannette. His mama had to stand on her own with four kids to raise an’ another one on the way in a town that blamed her for what her man did. It left a mark on Gene; one he’d never be able to erase.

Maggie was seventeen years old when her five-year-old brother Darrell started bringin’ Gene to their grandparents’ house in Grinnell. Darrell an’ Maggie spent a good part of ever’ summer in Grinnell. Her grandparents needed Maggie’s help now that they were gettin’ older, an’ addin’ another kid to the mix came easy for her. Darrell needed somethin’ to do, an’ Gene was the perfect answer. He was like family by this time anyway.

After her high school graduation in 1938, Maggie moved in with her grandparents an’ enrolled in an intensive business course at Grinnell College. A year later, she was back home, keepin’ ledgers an’ balancin’ accounts for Greenfield Farm Co-Op and Supply.

Gene was her little brother’s ornery best friend; the kid who helped Darrell get into more’n his fair share of trouble. Twelve years later, that ornery little boy was a full-grown man. And now, here they were.

When Gene said goodbye to Maggie that afternoon, they both felt it. Their love affair was over. He walked through the scullery an’ out the back door, knowin’ whatever they’d found together in these stolen moments was already in the past. Gone forever.

Maggie set her jaw, determined to put Gene an’ their affair out of her mind, to erase it like it had never happened. Ever’ kiss, ever’ embrace, ever’ whispered desire, just a dream that never was. She knew other women who had done the same, especially after the war ended. It could be done. And she’d be one to do it.

Maggie continued to get better, an’ once the doctor trained Walter to give her shots, there was no reason for her to stay away from the farm. By the time Easter came in early April, she an’ Leland were back home again. With her fever gone an’ her appetite back with a vengeance, she was glad to be sleepin’ in her own bed an’ cookin’ in her own kitchen.

Maggie had decided to put Gene out of her mind as best she could. She celebrated the holiday with Leland, watchin’ him run through the yard lookin’ for eggs, his laughter echoin’ through the spring air. She told herself this was enough, her family, her home, and her son.

She had so effectively erased Gene from her mind that she hardly noticed when she missed her monthly cycle in March, then again in April. Pregnancy wasn’t at the forefront of her thoughts. The one time the idea crossed her mind, she brushed it off as just another way her body was still findin’ its balance. Besides, her cycle had been hit or miss for more’n a year now. Ever’thing felt a little off kilter these days.

Crocus peeked out of the snow that still lay around their wraparound porch as life finally went back to normal. But as the days passed, Maggie was forced to acknowledge the change in her body. Her appetite went from ravenous to practically nonexistent. The only thing she could keep down was Kartoffelsuppe, her mama’s recipe for potato soup. She was exhausted, but this was different, not like her winter sickness. An’ she knew what it was.

The doctor had given ‘em enough streptomycin to last two weeks. As the third week approached, Maggie made plans to go into town with Leland. She’d see the doctor an’ take her son out to lunch. Walter wouldn’t join ‘em this time.

Maggie told the doctor she suspected she was pregnant. By the end of the appointment, he confirmed her suspicions with a look of concern in his eyes.

“Maggie, streptomycin is gonna save your life, but it could make some trouble for your baby. Based on my calculations, we’ll need to end your injections sooner than I’d hoped. You keep comin’ in each week for now, but in May we’ll taper you down to two injections a week. By the end of that month, we need to stop.”

She left the office with her weekly dose in hand, determined not to think about how, since the start of the new year, things seemed to jump outta nowhere to grab her by the ankle an’ sink in their teeth. She felt like she oughta be limpin’ by now, but here she was, walkin’ tall an’ straight like ever’thing was fine.

Leavin’ the doctor’s office, she took Leland’s hand. “What do you say we go get ourselves some lunch an’ top it off with a piece of pie an’ ice cream?” The smile on her little boy’s face gave her the answer she wanted. Turnin’ right to head down the sidewalk to the diner, she was nearly knocked to the ground when she ran straight into the chest of Gene Smith. It’d been six weeks.

When they ran into each other, Gene catchin’ sight of Leland for the first time ever — made her heart seize in her chest. Gene didn’t say much, not with other folks nearby, but the look in his eyes said plenty. Maggie saw him studyin’ Leland, his jaw tight, his expression unreadable, until he finally looked at her.

That’s when she saw it, the recognition, the truth she’d been tryin’ to ignore ever since she held Leland for the first time. She hadn’t wanted to see it then, and she didn’t want to see it now, but there it was, plain as day.

From the other side of the street, someone called Gene’s name, and just like that, he was gone.

A few weeks later, after a trip to town with Leland, Maggie stopped to check in on her parents. Darrell an’ Gene were already there. For all these years we barely see each other, now it feels like ever’ time I take a step, you’re there to meet me, she thought.

An hour later when she walked out to the car with Leland to leave, Gene followed. She knew why. “Is he mine?” Gene whispered as he opened the door for her.

Maggie hesitated, her hands holdin’ tight to the top of the car door as Leland climbed into the back seat, already makin’ plans to plow up the back forty with his toy tractor. Her papa was in the barn, but she could feel her mother watchin’ from the scullery door. Nobody talked about their secrets here in Iowa, but sometimes you could see ‘em on their faces. Her mama was like that. She always knew. There was no use lyin’ to the man.

“Yes,” Maggie said, her voice steady even though her insides felt like they were unravelin’. “Leland is your son.”

Gene nodded, his face hard to read, but the weight of her words settled heavy in the air between ‘em. Then she told him the rest, her words spillin’ out before she could stop. “I think this new baby is yours, too.”

What she didn’t say, what she never said out loud to anyone, was that she wasn’t sure Walter could give her children at all. They’d been married five years, livin’ in Florida like lovers without a care. The babies didn’t start comin’ till she came home to Iowa, till she found Gene again.

The silence that followed felt endless, like the whole world was holdin’ its breath. Finally, Gene sighed, his shoulders slumpin’ just enough to make him look like the boy he used to be. “I can’t do it, Maggie,” he said, his voice barely above a whisper. “I can’t be what you need, what they need. Not now.”

Maggie wanted to scream at him, to tell him that she hadn’t asked him for anything, that she didn’t need him to fix what couldn’t be fixed. But she just nodded, feelin’ the ache settle deeper in her chest.

“I don’t expect anything from you, Gene. I knew what I was doin’. So did you. I’ll raise our kids to believe they belong to my husband. I’ll never talk about you. Don’t you worry.” Her eyes were fillin’ with tears now. She hadn’t thought this would be so hard.

Darrell ran from the barn, yellin’ at Gene, “We gotta get to work. Let’s go!”

Gene had come back to work at the co-op when paintin’ in Grinnell an’ drivin’ a truck didn’t give him the thrills he was lookin’ for. Besides, working with Darrell promised to be a lot more fun.

As they drove away, Maggie knew this would be the last time she’d see the father of her children. He’d told her he was plannin’ to join the army. She was sure he’d do that now. Maybe they’d send him to Europe. Maybe he’d find a way to forget about her an’ the children he’d left behind.

Maybe that’s what she needed, too.

When Leland gave her a homemade Mother’s Day card a few weeks later before they left for church on a beautiful May mornin’, Maggie smiled down at him, her heart full of a love she couldn’t deny. “You’re gonna have a little brother or sister before Christmas, sweetheart,” she said, rufflin’ his hair. She knelt down beside her son an’ whispered in his ear, “I think it’s gonna be a boy.”

Maggie had grown up enough to know that even if her life wasn’t ever’thing she’d hoped it would be, since the war ended an’ she’d made the choice to leave Florida an’ come back home with Walter, she had found happiness. Her son, an’ this new baby, were evidence of how love can lead you in ways you never expected.

Bein’ a mother wasn’t at the top of her list as a young woman lookin’ for fun when she lived in the tropics, but then she came back to Iowa an’ nothin’ would ever be the same.

Listen to the audio narration on YouTube at: https://youtu.be/W_ZOsx0rGAI