THE LIFE AND TIMES OF MAGGIE O'TOOLE
CHAPTER ONE
She heard the front door open and was surprised. Who could that be she thought as she hurried to the front door? As she turned the corner she saw Mr. O’Toole coming in the door. “Mr. O’Toole, I wasn’t expecting you until six, sir. Is there something wrong?”
As she hurried to take his coat and hat, Cyrus O’Toole glanced up and said, “Wrong? No, there’s nothing wrong.”
He had a vacant, faraway look in his eyes as he spoke. “Is Margaret home yet?” he asked as she helped him out of his overcoat.
“No sir, but I expect her any time now.”
“Good. Good. When she arrives, would you send her in to see me please? I’ll be in the study.”
As she hung up his coat and hat she watched him walk into the study. She bustled after him and, upon entering the study thought he looked like a frightened rabbit. He walked over and placed his attaché case on the desk and looked around the room as though he had never been there before. She asked, “Shall I light a fire, sir?”
Again he seemed to be answering automatically, as if he wasn’t really there. “Yes, that would be nice.”
While she was laying the fire, she glanced at him from time to time. At first he just stood beside the desk, looking around. Then he slowly walked over to the bar, poured himself a large brandy and slowly walked back to the desk. Sitting behind it, he took a long drink of the brandy, sighed and put the glass down. Then he reached for his attaché case and pulled some papers out.
Once the fire was blazing, she stood up and asked, “Will you be needing anything else, sir?”
Looking at her through unseeing eyes, he said, “No Mrs. Harper that will be all.”
She nodded and walked out of the room. Just as she entered the vestibule, the door opened and a young girl entered. She was a cheerful, chubby young girl with shoulder length brown hair and large coppery eyes. She was smiling when she came in but the smile melted when she saw the look on Mrs. Harper’s face. Mrs. Harper said, “Miss Margaret, your father is home. He’d like to see you in the study.”
Mrs. Harper took her coat and bonnet and her school bag and Maggie walked into the study. “Papa, why are you home so early? Is everything alright?”
Cyrus looked up from the papers on his desk and tried to smile. It didn’t work, the concern in his eyes showed through his false bravado. As his smile faded, he sighed and said, “No, Margaret, everything is not alright.” He saw the smile on her face fade and he said, “Please, close the door and sit down, I have something I need to talk to you about.”
She did as she was told and, as she sat down she said, “Papa, did I do something?”
He smiled at her and said, “No dear, you didn’t do anything…I did. I need to talk to you about your mother.”
She was confused and it showed on her face. Papa didn’t usually like to talk about Mother. In fact, he never talked about her. Why, all of a sudden, did he want to talk about her now?
Cyrus took another drink of his brandy and said, “There’s something I need to tell you that I should have told you a long time ago. I don’t really know how to put this so that it won’t cause you pain. I guess the best way is to just tell you the truth and to start at the beginning.
“I had left home about five years before you were born. When I left, my sister was about your age and was becoming a bit rebellious; at least in the eyes of our parents. Anyway, not too long before you were born I finished my apprenticeship and was just starting my new job at the bank. I had heard from my sister from time to time, and knew she had fallen in love with a young man whose reputation was, shall we say, not the best. Needless to say, our parents were not happy about it at all.
“Well, as I said, I was just starting my professional career and didn’t have a lot of money. I was living in a small apartment in a low income area. The place was clean and cheap and the landlady was very nice. All was going well when, late one rainy night, there was a knock at my door.
“When I answered the door, I found my baby sister, very heavy with child, standing there dripping wet. I ushered her in and made her some hot tea. After a few sips of tea, she began to explain how she came to be on my doorstep in the middle of a cold and rainy night.
“She told me how she had met the young man and how she had fallen for him. She went on to tell me how our parents reacted when she told them of her new love; they refused to allow her to ever see the young man again. You see, he was a trouble maker and was a known womanizer. He was lazy and couldn’t seem to hold a job either.
“It wasn’t long before she began sneaking out of the house and meeting him secretly. It was during one of these secret liaisons that they let their passions carry them too far and you were conceived. When she discovered she was going to have a baby, she was sure her young lover would be overjoyed and would be happy to marry her. Needless to say, he was not. She told me that he told her that she would have to do something about it because he was not ready to be a father, let alone get married. He then left the county and didn’t come back until about a year later.
“Your mother was devastated. And, if she thought things couldn’t get worse, she was wrong. Our parents were furious and, after much yelling and screaming, it was decided that she would go to live with our father’s maiden sister in the next county, have the baby and put it up for adoption before coming home again. The following day she left home, never to return again.
“Her few months with our aunt didn’t go well either. She told me that Aunt Fanny treated her like she had a contagious disease, never letting her out of the house and never letting her see anyone other than the family doctor. Finally, she had had enough and decided to run away. That’s how she ended up with me.”
He took another sip of brandy and continued. “Well, I let her stay on the condition that she wrote to Aunt Fanny and our parents, telling them where she was and not to worry. She agreed and sent both letters the next morning.
“Then, about a week after she arrived, she came down with a cold. After about a week or so it didn’t get any better. In fact, it got worse. It took me a couple of days but I finally convinced her that she needed to see a doctor for her cold. The problem was I didn’t know any doctors so I asked my landlady and she recommended a nearby one. He was old but sharp as a pin. He took one look at your mother and ordered an ambulance to take her to the hospital. It turned out she had pneumonia.
“She was only in the hospital for a few hours when she went into labor with you. For over two days she labored to give birth until, finally you were born, a healthy, normal little girl. But the combination of the long, difficult labor and the advanced pneumonia were too much for her and she began going downhill.”
They both sat in silence for a few moments until Maggie whispered, “What happened then?”
“They let me in to see her just before she died,” he replied, tears in his eyes. “She told me that she had named you Margaret, after our mother, Mary, after your father’s mother, O’Toole. She said that she wasn’t allowed to put your true father’s name on the birth certificate so she left it blank. Then she asked me to raise you as if you were my daughter. I, of course, agreed. She died two hours later.”
There were tears in both of their eyes as Cyrus finished his story. Neither of them spoke for almost five minutes as they struggled to control their feelings. Finally, Maggie said, “Why haven’t you told me this before?”
Cyrus wiped his eyes and replied, “I should have told you. I meant to tell you. I was just waiting for the right moment, and the right words, to explain it to you.”
“So, why are you telling me now?”
Cyrus cleared his throat and said, “About four months ago, I received this notice from a judge back home.” He handed a document to her and continued, “It’s a court order granting your father custody of you.”
She looked down and skimmed the notice as he continued. “It says that your father has found out about your existence and wants custody. I had thirty days to show cause why I should be allowed to keep you. I immediately contacted a lawyer friend of mine and he argued that you should stay with me because it was your mother’s dying wish, that your real father has never attempted to find you before and that, considering his history, you should stay with me.”
He shuffled the papers on his desk for a few seconds. He picked up another document and handed it to her, saying, “We lost the case. I have been ordered to turn you over to your father in two weeks. We asked the judge to delay his order until we’ve had a chance to appeal but he has refused.” After a few seconds he added, “I’m sorry, Margaret, there’s nothing left to do.”
Maggie didn’t say anything.