TUESDAY TALES - BLOOM - MAGGIE'S STORY CONTINUES

Welcome! Today's word prompt is "bloom". Maggie's story continues. Thank you for stopping by. Please return to the fabulous Tuesday Tales authors HERE. 

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MAGGIE'S STORY

“Bloody hell, you say,” Maggie said, dropping the empty bucket.

Before he could move, the phone rang again. He answered it, his voice shaking. All she heard was his side of the conversation, which consisted of “ yes” and “no”.

When he hung up, his eyes filled. He looked straight at her, grasped the table and muttered, “Bloomin’ hell. It’s gone down and they’re all dead. Passengers, crew. The lot.”

“Oh no. No, John, no, no, no. Say the Missus is okay. She’s in hospital, right?”

A shiver mixed with a tremble and shot through Maggie’s body. John simply stared at her, his face as white as snow, and shook his head.

“Gone, Maggie, my girl. Gone. I’m sorry.”

A lump formed in her throat as she tried to wrap her mind around the truth. Her knees wobbled. John caught her as she pitched forward. Once in his arms, she sobbed into his shirt.

His chest heaved as he cried with her. When she could take a breath, she closed shaking fingers around his biceps.

“What are we gonna do?”

“That was Alfred, Mister’s brother. He’s coming over.”

“When?”

“I don’t know. Seems as if he’s got to call the lawyer.”

“Penn will be home from school in half an hour,” she said, chewing on a nail.

“Good lord, Mr. Penn!” John lowered his head to his hands.

“We’ve got to tell him.”

“I don’t know. Maybe we should wait for Alfred,” John said.
“We can’t. He’ll know. We can’t lie.” Tears broke through again as she realized Penn had lost both his parents at once. “My poor boy, my poor boy.” Maggie shook her head.

John poured two snifters of the Mister’s private stock of brandy and handed one to Maggie.

“Bottom’s up, old girl.”

The liquid went down smooth, warming her on its way. When they finished, she washed the glasses, glad to have something to do. Maggie glanced at the clock and her heart raced. The lad will be here any moment. Terrified, she retreated to her quarters.

The front door opened. A male voice sang as the lock clicked closed. Maggie clung to John, squeezing him around the middle. He tightened his embrace. They stood totally silent.

“Maggie?” Penn called from the kitchen.

Her breathing shallow, she slid their door open and ventured into the hall. Penn came by, carrying a plate sporting half a ham sandwich. He carried the rest in his hand and took a bite. With a full mouth he greeted the housekeeper. She nodded, attempting to smile.

When he had swallowed the food, he spoke.

“I didn’t get a text from Mom that they landed okay. She’s silly about that stuff. But she always reports in. Like something might happen? Yeah, right,” he sniffed.

Maggie froze, the blood drained from her face. Penn glanced at her, then stopped. “I don’t mean to be a wuss, but did you hear from her?”  

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