Tracie Peterson by A Place to Belong

neck of her blouse. “It’ll have to do,” she conceded, not totally satisfied with the results.
    Maggie pulled her coat on quietly and grabbed the carpetbag. Gently she edged the door of her sleeping compartment open and checked the hallway for any sign of Garrett. There was none.
    As quickly as she could, Maggie maneuvered through the shadowy corridors of the train car. At last she was rewarded with the exit door.
    “Well, Miss, if you’re getting off here, I’d suggest you hurry. Train’s pulling out directly,” the conductor told her in his disinterested manner. Maggie prayed that he wouldn’t question Garrett’s whereabouts.
    “Thank you, I will,” Maggie replied. “Can you tell me where the nearest hotel is?”
    “That whitewashed clapboard over there,” the conductor said, eyeing his watch. “Sorry, Ma’am. We’re pulling out. Are you staying?”
    “Yes,” Maggie managed to say. She took a last look at the train. The laughter had died down, and there was just the muffled noise of several other passengers walking away from the railroad station. The conductor returned the steps to the platform of the train and waved his brass lantern to signal the engineer.
    As the train groaned and jerked down the tracks, Maggie thought of Garrett. She was almost sorry she’d outfoxed him. She chuckled to herself as she walked toward the hotel.
    Maggie found sleeping quarters with only moderate difficulty. As tired as she felt, she would have gladly slept in the barn. The manager had given her a candle, and Maggie didn’t bother to inspect the room other than to locate the bed.
    She undressed and, with a quick breath, blew out the candle and settled into bed. Maggie thought about all the things Garrett had told her. A part of her wished she could break down the barriers between her father and herself, but Maggie was certain he would never forgive her. Loneliness filled her as she again saw herself as a child. She struggled to remember something, but it passed away quickly in the cloudiness of sleep.
    Several hours later, Maggie woke with a start. She couldn’t remember where she was. The sun was just starting to shine through the lace curtains of her hotel room window.
    Maggie swung her legs over the side of the bed, newly aware of her surroundings. The room wasn’t much to look at, but it was clean and safe. The girl shivered from the cold wooden floor as she crossed to the window.
    Careful not to reveal that she was dressed only in her camisole and petticoat, Maggie pulled back the curtain. Most of Newton still slept, and she wondered what time it was.
    It must be early, she thought to herself. Realizing she was hungry, Maggie placed the carpetbag on the bed and pulled out a soda biscuit. As she began to eat, she remembered the evening before when she’d dined with Garrett in Florence. The heady aroma of the Harvey House food lingered in her mind, making her biscuit seem inadequate.
    She also remembered the intimate conversation, Garrett’s touch, and their kiss. Maggie shook her head as if to dispel the memory, but it was no use. Dancing blue eyes and a gentle smile were all she could remember. That and the fact that she was supposed to become Garrett Lucas’s wife.
    Within an hour, Maggie was dressed. Her traveling suit was hopelessly wrinkled, but there was no use worrying about it. She took the carpetbag and headed downstairs.
    “Morning, Miss.” The same man who’d given her entrance the night before was greeting her as though he’d woken from an undisturbed night. Maggie couldn’t help but smile.
    “Good morning,” she answered politely. Just then, half a dozen children came running through the lobby. They were laughing and playing tag.
    “Now children,” the man began. “You know the rules about running inside. Go on out if you’re going to run.” The children stopped long enough to acknowledge their father, and then rushed through the hotel door out onto the street.
    “Now, Miss, what can