33 
A Fall

A spring celebration was planned for Maggie’s seventy-eighth birthday. All the inhabitants of Heathersleigh rose with Hector and the animals in order to begin preparations for the feast that would be held that afternoon at the Hall in Maggie’s honor.

Midway through the morning, Betsy came into the kitchen with a handful of roses she had just picked.

“They are beautiful, Betsy dear!” said Jocelyn.

“May I take them over to Grandma Maggie?” asked Betsy.

“You mean . . . now? I don’t suppose there would be any harm.—In fact, that is a good idea!” added Jocelyn. “Wish her a wonderful birthday, and tell her we shall be over a little after noon to bring her to the Hall.”

Betsy was out the door like a flash and running across the meadow, black hair, yellow dress, and multicolored clump of roses in her hand all flying in the breeze.

Jocelyn laughed as she watched the girl’s short, stocky legs flying across the grass. “If half those roses survive by the time she reaches the cottage,” she said, “it will be a miracle!”

“She really loves Grandma Maggie, doesn’t she?” said Catharine at the table behind her as she put the finishing touches on the frosting of a large layer cake.

“And it warms my heart to see it,” nodded Jocelyn. “What must it have been like to grow up without a mother, or grandmother, or even an aunt—the poor girl!”

Jocelyn was passing the window again some twenty minutes later when she saw Betsy walking slowly back across the meadow, the same bouquet of flowers still clutched in her hand.

“What is it, Betsy?” she said as Betsy entered the house. “Why didn’t you give Maggie the flowers?”

“I couldn’t find her,” answered Betsy.

“What do you mean?” asked Jocelyn, puzzled.

“I knocked and knocked, but she never came to the door.”

“Did you look around? She might have been in the garden,” said Jocelyn.

“I walked all around the cottage, then to the barn,” said Betsy. “I called out too, but she didn’t answer.”

Jocelyn’s eyebrows knit together.

“Catharine, Amanda,” she called up the stairs behind her. “I am going over to Maggie’s.”

“But I thought we weren’t going until—” began Catharine from the landing.

“Maggie didn’t answer Betsy’s knock,” interrupted Jocelyn. “I have an uneasy feeling. I want to check on her.”

Both her daughters were already downstairs and on the way outside with her. Without waiting for Hector’s help, they hitched one of the buggies and climbed in. Jocelyn slapped the reins with her wrist and yelled to the horse, and did not let up with her shouts until he was in full gallop across the meadow.

They flew into the clearing three or four minutes later. Jocelyn leapt out before the carriage was fully stopped and sprinted toward the cottage. The door was unlocked as always. Jocelyn hurried in, her two daughters on her heels.

“Maggie . . . Maggie, are you home!” called Jocelyn as she ran through the rooms. She found her elderly friend lying on the pantry floor.

“Maggie—what happened!” cried Jocelyn, kneeling down beside her.

“I am all right, Jocelyn dear,” moaned Maggie softly. “I just couldn’t make Betsy hear my voice. But I am not in too much pain.”

“Where does it hurt?”

“It’s my hip. I was being clumsy and tried to reach too high. . . .”

“Did you fall?”

Maggie nodded. “I’m afraid I slipped,” she said softly.

“Your face is pale.—Catharine, run for Dr. Cecil.”

In seconds Catharine was out the door.

“What can I do for you, Grandma Maggie?” asked Amanda. “Would you like tea . . . or water?”

“That sounds delightful, dear. Some water . . . then when I can sit up to drink it, I would enjoy a cup of tea.”

“How long have you been here?” asked Jocelyn, trying to get herself under Maggie and gently lift her to a sitting position without causing more pain.

“Perhaps two or three hours. But you are here now—I will be fine.”

Amanda arrived with a glass of water and helped her swallow two or three sips.

“Thank you, dear . . . I am feeling better already,” sighed Maggie wearily. “—Not much of a birthday,” she added. “I am sorry to be such a bother, and that I’ve ruined your party for today.”

“Maggie—think nothing of it,” said Jocelyn. “We will just bring our party here and spend the day with you instead.”

“What about all the people who were coming?”

“Let us take care of everything,” insisted Jocelyn. “You just rest.—Here, put your arm around my shoulder . . . come, Amanda . . . we will try to get you into your bed, if it doesn’t hurt too much.”

Slowly and carefully Jocelyn and Amanda got Maggie to her feet, then made their way to her bed, mostly carrying her to keep weight off the hip which Jocelyn feared might be broken. Neither of them missed the wince of pain that came to Maggie’s face when they lifted her.

“I don’t care how you object,” said Jocelyn as at length they eased her down. “We are finally going to have a telephone line installed here to the cottage. That will be your birthday present.”

“It would have done me no good today, dear—I was unable to move.”

“Nevertheless, you must be able to get in touch with us.”

Maggie nodded. She did not like to give in either to the advancement of technology or the advancement of age. But she could no longer deny that both were rapidly gaining on her.

“You are right,” smiled Maggie. “I am sorry for being such a stubborn old woman.”

“You are a dear old woman!” rejoined Jocelyn. “And I love you too much not to take the best care of you I can.”