Lightning Strikes (Hudson 2)

"Ah, go on with ya," he said, waving his hand at me. He looked at Mary Margaret and nodded. "She ain't complainin' none. Go on, ask 'er, ask 'er if she's unhappy about it."

I looked at Mary Margaret She had embraced herself and was trembling so badly, I thought

she might crack a rib.

"What do you expect her to say with you hovering over her like some monster?"

"Monster, am I? Monster." He lowered his shoulders as if he really was insulted. "We come from workin' stock. We 'ave no family wealth and no one's givin' us charity and opportunities. I've done the best I can for my family these years. I've driven the Endfields all over this city and listened to 'em talk about their teas and their fancy lunches where they waste more food than we 'ave all week. Whenever I could, I picked up what they tossed away and brought it to my family, and when there was an opportunity for Mary Margaret to 'ave steady, safe work, I made sure she got it.

"What'cha think 'appens to girls like Mary Margaret? It's not much different from what 'appens to poor girls where you're from," he said. "She mighta gotten 'erself up the spout with some good-for-nothin' and become just another ragtag woman scrounging for her supper.

"Now, she's going to 'ave a decent house and always enough to eat and clothes on her back.

"Monster, am I? Go on, get your arse out of my 'ome and leave us be."

He lowered his head and turned away to go to his wife in the living room. I stood there, feeling so confused.

"Mary Margaret," I said softly. She shook her head. Her eyes were vacant, the eyes of someone who had already left the here and now and accepted her fate. She waved toward the door.

"Please, just go now," she said in a hoarse whisper and then lowered her chin to her chest.

"Okay," I said. "If you need me, you know where I am."

I walked out of the bedroom. Boggs was seated on the sofa, his hands clasped between his knees, his head down. His wife sat beside him staring ahead, her arm through his, holding on to him as if he was the anchor to keep her from floating into oblivion.

I had seen many a pathetic, sad family in the projects, people who looked like they had been struck in the head by life and were stunned forever. I had seen people without hope who dared to take out only a small moment of the day to wonder about their lives and themselves and why they were where they were. They inherently knew that if they spent too much time thinking about it, they would go mad or worse, they would do harm to themselves or others.

I wanted to hate Boggs. He was always so cruel to me, but I wanted to hate him more for what he had permitted to happen to Mary Margaret, but I could hear Mama whispering in my ear, telling me not to judge, asking me to understand.

"After all," she might ask, "the sort of anger and harshness you see in Boggs, you've seen in many men back in the projects, haven't you? Give him that same moment of pause you give the men struggling in the streets back home. You don't need to forgive him as much as you need to understand him and then move on, child. Move on."

"Okay, Mama," I whispered to myself. "Okay."

I walked out and closed the door softly behind me.

I don't even remember the trip back to Endfield Place. Somehow I found the tube station, rode the train and walked the streets, but all the while, my mind visited the store of memories from my childhood. Mama had done a good job of protecting each of us as long as she could. I don't think it was until I was seven or eight that I even had the inkling that we were living in such desperate conditions. In those days I never knew when Ken had stopped bringing in money or wasted what we had. I didn't understand how much extra work Mama had to do to make it possible for us to enjoy at least three meals a day and have warm clothing. I never heard about rent being past due or utilities coming close to being shut off.

And then suddenly, it seemed, my eyes opened and all that she had kept well hidden behind her wall of smiles and songs began to slip out before me. It was as if someone, some great power, had said, From this day forward you will understand the truth--you are poor.

Mama's simple dream was to get that word away from me.

Wasn't that the same dream Boggs had for Mary Margaret?

Mama went so far as to give me back to the people who had sold me. Someone who didn't understand, who wasn't there day in and day out to see her struggle and her tears and pain, might condemn her as easily as I condemned Boggs.

Why was it so hard for me to decide what was right and what was wrong? Should I spend much of my time trying to decide, or should I embrace the laissez-faire attitude, the joie de vivre, the laughter and the wind like Catherine and Leslie and just live, just be happy, just take every day as it came and stop being such a worrier?

Go and audition for the play. Be a success and seize the day, Rain, I told myself.

Seize the day.

With more energy than I had had since I left Mary Margaret's flat, I charged up the drive toward the front door of Endfield Place. I'll do my work and I'll have fun, I vowed. Whether I like it or not, I'll have fun.

The house was quiet when I entered, of course. I expected everyone was asleep, but I did hear someone in the kitchen and I went in to see who it was. It was Leo making himself a sandwich and having a cup of tea.

"Oh, Miss Rain," he said smiling. "I'm glad I caught you before you went off to sleep. You had two phone calls this evening and I took the messages for you," he said. He reached into his jacket pocket and produced a slip of paper. "The first was from a Mr. Ward."

"What did he say?"