“Thanks, sis, it means a lot to me that —”
“Anything I can do to help?” Natasha asked.
Jack spun around quickly. “Uh, no. Liz and I were just coming back to sit down.”
“Oh? Talking about me, were you?”
A laugh escaped from Elizabeth’s lips, then she said, “Add perceptive to the list!”
Liz and Natasha took delight in announcing that Jack was blushing when they returned to the living room to join Ben.
Jack changed the subject by asking, “Where’s Marcie?”
“She went to the barn to toss a couple of bales down for the animals,” Ben replied. “She shouldn’t be long.”
“How are you all doing? It’s been two weeks.”
Ben and Liz exchanged glances, then Ben said, “She’s a really good kid. A hard worker. Maybe working too hard. It’s like she’s always underfoot.”
“Sounds like she’s trying to please you.”
“She’s been volunteering for everything, from helping Liz in the house to wanting to help me on the farm. On top of that, she’s doing about three hours of homework every night.”
“She’s a bright kid,” said Liz. “I’ve been checking with the school. She’s missed the first six weeks, but they said that at the rate she’s going, they expect her to catch up soon.”
“What about the psychologist?”
“She’s had two meetings so far. Now she’s scheduled for one a week.” Liz looked at Natasha and said, “I talked to the psychologist; she said that Marcie has post stress disorder.”
“PTSD,” replied Natasha. “Post-traumatic stress disorder. Yes, I’m sure that diagnosis is correct. Considering her history, she may need a lot of counselling.”
“That’s what we were told.”
“So what’s the problem?” asked Jack. “I feel like you’re holding something back.”
Ben and Liz exchanged another glance, then Liz said, “Don’t get me wrong on this. We both think she’s a really great kid.”
“That’s what you’ve been telling me on the phone. What’s changed?”
Ben cleared his throat, then said, “Last Thursday … maybe I overreacted, but Liz was pretty upset.”
“It’s not Ben’s fault,” said Liz. “I was the one who overreacted. I went in her room and she was drawing pictures on sheets of paper. Not nice pictures. Pictures of people crying and sticking needles in their arms. Then I realized that the sheets of paper were ones that Maggie had drawn pictures on. On the other side. I started to cry and that’s when Ben came in.”
“I yelled at her. Told her to keep her damn hands off stuff that wasn’t hers. I apologized to her later, but she acts like she doesn’t hear. Not rude. More like her mind is elsewhere. She’s hardly spoken to us since. Not working much anymore, either. Stays in her room a lot.”
“She was expressing her feelings through the drawings,” said Natasha. “It’s actually a good sign. The therapeutic value of art is well recognized and respected.”
“Maybe, but not on Maggie’s pictures,” said Ben.
“I know she feels really bad,” said Liz. “This morning she gave me a little glass mouse. She used to have it in her room. I told her to keep it, but she just acted indifferent. It’s there … on the fireplace mantle.”
Natasha saw the cute crystal mouse peeking out from the mantle over the large stone fireplace. “Why don’t you buy a big scrapbook for her to use?” she suggested.
“I did,” said Ben. “I gave it to her yesterday, but I don’t think she’s used it.”
Jack looked at Natasha and she gave a slight nod of her head. “We’ll go talk with her.”
“We’re not upset with her now,” said Liz, “but she’s been real quiet ever since. I’d appreciate it if you would tell her that we’re not angry. She acts like she doesn’t believe us.”
A few minutes later, Jack and Natasha climbed a ladder inside the barn leading to an open trap door in the loft. Marcie was batting a rope back and forth that was hanging from the open doors at the end of the loft.
“Hey, Marcie! What ya doin’?” asked Jack.
Marcie looked startled. “Just playing,” she said.
“You looked like you were in pretty deep thought,” said Natasha. “Is there something bothering you?”
“No.”
“What were you playing?” asked Jack, as he gave the rope a slap and watched it swing out the open doors at the end of the loft.
“I don’t know. I was just thinking it would be fun to swing out in the yard … but if I fell and hurt myself, I guess it wouldn’t be good.”
“Jack could tie a big knot at the end of the rope. You could stand on it and it would be safer.”
Jack caught the rope in his hand and spoke to Marcie while tying a large knot. “It wouldn’t be good if you hurt yourself. I would be upset. So would Liz and Ben.”
“No, they wouldn’t. They’re mad at me. I did a stupid thing. But what else is new,” she mumbled.
“They told us about that, but they’re not angry with you at all,” said Natasha. “As a matter of fact, they were just bragging to us about how much help you’ve been and how hard you’ve been tackling your school work.”
“Listening to them,” said Jack, “makes me really proud of you. They’re really happy with you. They’re definitely not angry with you. In fact, I think the three of you help each other much more than you realize.”
“That’s nice they said that.” She looked at her watch. “I bet dinner is ready. We should go.”
Natasha found out that Jack had not exaggerated how great the meal would be. The simplicity of the roasted free-range chicken, scalloped potatoes, and broccoli with hollandaise sauce made for a homey, mouth-watering meal. She wasn’t surprised at the freshly baked apple pie with ice cream for dessert. The aroma of the pie had greeted her when she first arrived.
Supper conversation was easygoing, which she appreciated. The occasional friction of Jack’s knee rubbing against her leg brought on fantasies of a primal nature. More intellectual conversation would have been difficult.
After dinner, she insisted on helping Liz clean up in the kitchen, while Ben went to get wood for the fireplace. She saw Jack and Marcie escape the work detail as they headed outside to walk off dinner. She didn’t mind; it gave her time alone with Liz. Time to squeeze any stories out of her about Jack. Either as a child, or as a man.
Liz
