Written on the Wind

Written on the Wind

 

Is love written on the wind? Or are there other forces at work?

Maggie DeRoth was the Queen of the Silver Dollar. Her café and pies were the talk of Catoosa County; her matchmaking skills, too. As proprietress, she was up close and personal with that first cup of coffee and some easy banter, while looking straight into your heart. She’d take your order and determine your status on her love meter. Maggie believed every person deserved love and she worked hard to find it for them, by hook or by crook, often enlisting others to wangle meetings between unsuspecting souls

She felt blessed she’d found her husband Matt, the love of her life, and even though she’d lost him a decade ago, her life felt full now. She had the café, community, and family, thanks to her mother-in-law, Ruth, who still loved her like a daughter.

Ruth worked in men’s wear at Kresse’s across town, and often sent lonely boys Maggie’s way for help in the heart department. Saturday nights at the Silver Dollar would often find the two women smiling contentedly from their corner table, as their matchmaking recipients chatted merrily around them.

“Look over there, Ruth! Conrad and Linda are hitting it off! They’re both so shy, it took a lot of maneuvering to nudge them into this blind date, but you can see it in her eyes, she’s as smitten as he is. Sometimes you have to be crafty to get them together. To get that magic in the air! Same way Matt and I met, remember?”

“I do. So, what about you, Maggie?” Ruth asked, “Don’t you think it’s about time you found some new magic for yourself? You deserve happiness in the years ahead. I know you loved Matt, but he’s gone.”

“Oh hush, Ruth. I’ve got everything I want. Don’t go looking to complicate my life.”

“But maybe not everything you need . . . Don’t you ever long for that bell to ring again?” Ruth nodded toward a small silver bell shaped like an angel that hung just inside the café’s front door. Matt had installed it on the night of his and Maggie’s engagement, and he’d reached up to ring it every single time he’d walked in or out of the café’s front door ever since.  It represented a simple message:

I love you, today, tomorrow, and always.

It had hung silent ten years now.

Maggie studied the bell. Her thoughts grazed on her years with Matt, lingering on that red plaid shirt he wore when he rang it on the last day of his life. Just before he’d walked out and climbed into that damned truck.

“Ruth, let’s not talk nonsense! I’m content to be the Silver Dollar Widow. Case closed. In fact, it’s getting late, how ’bout we call it a night?”

Ruth glanced at her watch, then at the door, then at Maggie.

“What’s your hurry? It’s Saturday night. Tomorrow’s your day off. Sit back and relax. Who knows, more magic could happen. In fact, look! Stephen Rawling over there is offering his class ring to Evie Saint. What do you think she’ll say?”

“Better be yes! I worked hard on that pair,” laughed Maggie. “They’re made for each other.”

“You should know, oh High Priestess of Matchmaking! You haven’t missed the mark yet, have you?”

“Not very often. Why do you keep looking at your watch?” Maggie asked, then, not waiting for an answer, got up to pour another cup from the bottomless coffee pot behind the counter.

The front door banged open, allowing a fresh waft of air to mingle the scents of a Georgia summer night, Southern magnolia and blacktop, with Silver Dollar Fries. A tall man in a blue plaid shirt entered, and headed straight for her. She set the pot down with a clack as dark hazel eyes connected with hers.

“I’m looking for a Ms. Maggie,” the man began, “Heard she makes the best peach pie this side of the Mason Dixon.”

“You’re lookin’ at her,” Maggie quipped, after finding her tongue. Her eyes bounced between his face and that shirt. That plaid shirt. An eerie chill gripped her.

“Well, you got any pie left for a weary stranger? I’ve been driving for hours and I sure could use a good piece of pie and some coffee right now to raise my blood sugar.” He shook his hands mimicking a person on a crazed sugar rush. Maggie laughed in spite of herself.

“Well, I’ve got pie and coffee, but it’s date night. There are no tables.”

“Well, it’s been a while since I considered date nights, but it looks like a successful one,” the man said, scanning the crowd. “I guess it’s the Quick Stop for me, then.”  He looked at Maggie with a hint of disappointment in his eyes.

Suddenly Ruth was at her side.

“Why don’t you invite this weary traveler to sit with us?” Ruth asked, with too much excitement in her voice. “We can make room, right, Maggie?”

“Well, I guess we could,” Maggie answered, looking sideways at Ruth like she’d grown a second head.

Ruth led him to their table while Maggie wrangled his pie and coffee. Soon, Maggie, Ruth, and their new friend, Jim, were chatting and laughing like old friends.

“So, how’d you hear about the Silver Dollar?” Maggie asked, at last. What followed was a pregnant pause.

“Well, I’m not wholly sure I remember,” Jim answered, lowering his glance to his coffee cup. “However it happened, it was quite a while ago. My memory’s a little short on that one.”

“Well, we’re glad you’ve found us, anyway,” Ruth said, patting his arm a little too vigorously. Maggie cocked her head at her mother-in-law.  

“Will you be in town long?”

“Actually, I’ve got business that will take a day or so,” Jim answered. “Once that’s concluded, I start the first real vacation I’ve taken in years, so I thought I’d see how your Georgia fishing stacks up against Tennessee’s.”

“My son was a superb fisherman. If you want to know the good fishing spots, just ask Maggie. She can toss a line out just as good as he could.” 
 
“Could?” 

“He’s passed away,” Maggie said.

“Oh, I’m sorry.”

“Thank you.”

“Ten years ago,” Ruth interjected. “She’s moving on. Right, Maggie? Why don’t you join us for breakfast in the morning, Jim? Say, ten?”

“Ruth . . . ” Maggie stopped short of a chastisement, realizing she wouldn’t mind seeing this man again in the morning. There was an easy charm about him and a kindness that shone from his eyes which she couldn’t help but notice.

“I wouldn’t want to intrude.”

“Nonsense!” said Ruth, “We’re happy to have you join us! Right, Maggie?” Maggie heard the emphasis on the word and nodded her assent.

“Well, if you insist. I’m not dumb enough to turn down an invitation from two beautiful, engaging ladies, so I’ll see you in the morning.”  Jim stood up, smiled, pushed in his chair, and walked out the door.

“That man just pushed his chair in!” Ruth exclaimed, “Who does that anymore? This one’s mama taught him some manners.”

“Ok, Ruth. Where'd you find him?”

“What? What do you mean?”

“I know this was a setup. Come clean. Where’d you find him?”

“Why, Maggie DeRoth, I don’t know what you’re talking about,” Ruth retorted, looking wounded. “But if I did, I’d think I did an excellent job, wouldn’t you agree?”

“He was wearing a plaid shirt, Ruth. You know I can barely stand to look at plaid ever since . . . well, you know. That’s a bad omen in itself. Couldn’t you have at least warned him about that? Just stop trying to set me up. I’m perfectly happy the way things are!”

“Are you?” Ruth asked, then got up, pushed her chair in, kissed Maggie’s cheek, and left the café.

*

The morning sun dappled the wall above the four-poster bed, the mattress of which Maggie now hugged the perimeter of. Since Matt’s passing, she no longer luxuriated across the entire surface, but found herself gripping the edge each morning, as if she were in danger of falling into a chasm if she let go. She unclenched her fists and tried to remember why the day ahead felt distinctive, somehow.

Then she remembered.  Ruth. Her shenanigans had put her in a position to play hostess to a man she didn’t even know. She realized she’d been maneuvered right into a blind date! Why did that idea frighten her? Was this how her match-made subjects felt? This trepidation? This fear of the unknown?
 
She thought back to last night’s conversation, and how evasive Jim had been when asked how he’d come to be there. She knew Ruth was at the bottom of this. The nerve! She was too old for this nonsense and wasn’t interested, anyway. Her life was just fine. She’d make the best of the morning and send this guy on his way.

Maggie arrived at the café early. Her corner table wore a vase with a rose in the center. It was typical of Ruth to add a romantic touch. Maggie rolled her eyes.

The coordinated timing at which Ruth and Jim entered the café didn’t go unnoticed by Maggie, either, but the conversation flowed like the night before, with Jim joining right in as if he were part of the family. After the meal, Jim requested another piece of Maggie’s peach pie.

“Pie for breakfast?” Maggie remarked.

“Heck, I’ve been dreaming about this pie all night long, and can’t wait another minute to taste it again.”

“Whatever,” Maggie said, secretly flattered. Ruth winked. Maggie gave her the demon stare.

“Hey, I think my business will be finished by Tuesday, and I start my vacation. How about you ladies join me on a little fishing trip?” he asked, looking directly at Maggie.

“Well, I’m busy Tuesday,” Ruth answered, “But how did you know Tuesday was Maggie’s day off? I’m sure she’d love to show you her favorite fishing hole. Right Maggie?”

Jim held Maggie’s eyes and she found herself agreeing. What the hell was she doing? The whole situation felt out of her control, so she just gave in. How bad could it be? A little fishing trip and the guy would be off to other pastures and out of hers. Case closed. And she’d never let Ruth live this little chapter down, that was for sure.

*

Jim stood looking out over Cutter’s Lake.

“It’s beautiful here, Maggie. Thank you for trusting me with your secret fishing spot. I realize this place means a lot to you.”

“Maybe it’s time for someone else to enjoy it. Matt and I fished here secretly for years and never told a soul where we caught the biggest catfish in the county.  It’s probably teeming with fish now. Matt fished Cutter’s Lake as a kid. His dad brought him here.”

“Matt sounds like a great guy.”

“He was.”

Jim studied Maggie’s face as a slight wind lifted a tuft of her hair and brushed it across her cheekbone. Like a kiss.

“Well, let’s catch some fish in his honor.”

“Sounds good!”

By the end of the day, the cooler overflowed, and an easy silence lay undisturbed between them.

“So, Maggie, how’d you like to have dinner with me tonight? Someplace a little more private than the Silver Dollar? Would you be my guest?” To Maggie’s surprise, she found herself saying yes and beginning to forgive Ruth.

Dinner became lunch, and lunch became drinks at the Dew Drop Inn, which became breakfast again on Sunday, with both Maggie and Ruth, who smiled smugly, watching the two laughing and goofing off, like they’d known each other forever. As Jim cut into another piece of ‘breakfast pie,’ Maggie confronted the two one more time.

“Ok, you two. Admit it. Tell me how you know each other and decided to set me up. Now Jim was looking at Maggie as if she had two heads.

“Umm, Maggie, I’d never met your mother-in-law before I walked into the café that first night.”

“What?”

“That’s right. Never laid eyes on the man before. I told you that.”

“Then how’d you know to find your way here? Truth now. I feel like you’ve been hiding something.”

“I’m not sure I want to say.”

“I knew it! I knew you had a secret! My Spidey sense is never wrong. Come on. Out with it, or you can walk out that door right now.”

Jim sighed and took her two hands in his. “I told you when we were fishing that I work as a process server. Well, that's just a recent part-time job, to keep me from the boredom of my new retirement. I was once a state trooper.”

Two jaws across the table dropped. Maggie’s hung there for what felt to Jim like an eternity before he pushed on.

“One night, I answered a call to an accident on the 411 just over the Tennessee State Line. A white pickup had been hit, head-on by a teenage drunk driver in a red sedan."

Maggie inhaled sharply.
  
“Matt.” She gasped.

Ruth’s head jerked upward to lock on Jim.

“I was the first to arrive. I ran to the pickup to check on the driver, but he shouted at me he was ok. To go check the other car. Three girls were trapped and screaming and it was clear they were injured. I grabbed my tools and began trying to free them, racing between vehicles to try to assess the injuries, the truck driver each time shouting at me to go back to the sedan. A real hero.”

Jim paused and looked between Maggie and Ruth, debating whether to continue.

“Well, don’t stop there!” Maggie practically shouted. 
 
“Finally, help arrived. When it did, they took over the pick-up while I worked to free the girls. Once the injured were transported, I’d barely climbed into my patrol car, when a sudden wind kicked up. It swept this worn restaurant menu lying in the road, up into the air, and plastered it flat against my windshield.”

“My menu,” Maggie whispered.

“Maggie’s pies are the best pies this side of the Mason Dixon,” Jim continued, “I grabbed it off my windshield and shoved it into the glove box. It’s been there almost ever since. Strange thing though. From that day on, that glove box malfunctioned, springing open at the weirdest times and spitting out your menu.

“M-Matt,” Ruth mouthed the unspoken word.

“Had the darn thing fixed three times. I could never seem to throw that menu away, even when I retired and cleaned out my patrol car. I promised myself that if I ever got to Catoosa County, I’d try a piece of Maggie’s famous pie, and that’s what I did.”

“So we met because of a freak wind? How in Heaven’s name could that be possible?”

Just inside the front door, a small silver bell shaped like an angel chimed.


   ~by taree Belardes


NYC MIDNIGHT SHORT STORY COMP 2020
First round:
Genre: Mystery
Time limit: 1 week
Person to include: A mother-in-law.
Word limit: 2500 words
*Note- (I did not have the luxury of a week, this year. This story was written in 10 hrs on the last day of the comp.)