Once upon a Time, Margaret
10
Beginning
A small weathered frame cottage, circa 1940, at the edge of a National Forest. Not the same National Forest.
Tris had made himself keep busy on his cell phone while the doctor and his loyal nurse worked feverish hours keeping Margaret alive. The doctor had told Tris that if she lives, he should get her to an orthopedic surgeon to take care of her ankle. It was a compound fracture that required a specialist if Margaret were ever to walk again.
Tris had arranged the purchase of the cottage, along with its two acres of ground, through an acquaintance from Burns Hill Bar and Grill. It had belonged to a group of three local deer hunters, who liked to have a comfortable base from which to operate during hunting seasons. It would be his and Margaret's home for at least the next year. If she lives.
The doctor had discouraged hope for her future, "Although, well, I guess one never knows."
And if she lives, she'll have a new identity - name, birth certificate, and Social Security number arranged for by a fellow Vietnam vet involved with the Justice Department's Witness Protection Program..
Tris had also called George Schindemann to accept the department's early retirement program. The last assignment had taken too much out of him, he said. Schindemann understood very well; besides, he was quite happy that Martel, and what Martel's presence on the force would remind him of, was out of his life.
If she lives. The doctor had said, "I guess one never knows." It's been three months. At first it was very doubtful she'd make it. She'd lost a lot of blood, and with the doctor's limited supply of her type, she was left frighteningly weak. Tris was and continued to be her devoted full-time nurse. But three months had passed now. And she was still alive, and was getting stronger every day. Those early days she slept through whole days at a time. She still tired easily, but now she managed to stay awake and alert most hours of the day. And she was happy in her new world, and being with Tris.
The cottage had a screened-in porch in back facing the forest only twenty yards away. Close enough even that the wondrous smell of pine filled the air. Margaret spent most of her awake time on the porch, usually in the comfort of the padded glider. She sat sideways so her legs and feet could rest on the seat. Tris kept her well stocked with books. A kindly librarian helped him select age-appropriate material for his "daughter". He'd also subscribed to a home teaching program, and often on Margaret's better days she enjoyed his working with her on schoolish basics. Margaret had to be carried most everywhere. Walking wasn't an option. Tris had bought her a wheelchair, and sometimes he set her on the seat and pushed her around the property. She wasn't yet able to gather the upper body strength to propel herself. Margaret enjoyed being on the porch.
Tris had a sizeable bank account. On his own, living never required much expense for him. And he had a solid stock portfolio, which provided welcome dividends. As a loner, on his own, he'd lived modestly so that now he was able to provide for Margaret's continuing medical expenses. He'd already arranged for an orthopedic surgeon for when Margaret was strong enough. Margaret asked for little that couldn't be had in the environs of their small home. She accepted the idea of the orthopedic surgeon. It would help her on her road back to sharing in the responsibilities of their new life together, and the idea seemed to make Tris happy.
Tris mentioned the idea of school sometime in the future when she could manage it. Margaret never worried about school. In her whole life, the future never held the promise of the little she could draw from the present. Besides, the society of kids had never much suited her reserved personality. When the time came, she'd do what Tris thought was best. As long as she had Tris. And her porch. And the forest a few feet away. And she understood when Tris would made those trips to town; I have to talk to somebody, he always said. Margaret never objected; she knew something of men. And she had her times, anyway. During her convalescence, he gave her a sponge bath every day. And the last few weeks they'd been daring to try bathing together in the tub again, the way they did that morning - kind of exciting what with having to keep her cast from getting wet.
Margaret still has her 9mm. Now that she's recovering she's been taking care of it. She cleans and oils it regularly. Lately, since she's been outside more, Tris fixed her a target against a dying old oak tree. Once in a while, she'll take some practice shots. She keeps the gun in the shoulder holster, but aside from the practice sessions she doesn't wear it. Except when Tris is away. Then she puts it on, checking to make sure the gun is loaded and in working order before he leaves.
It was Indian summer mid-November and comfortably warm in these parts. As usual, Margaret was on the porch, sitting up on the padded glider. The bandage was gone from her chest, which, like her back, was heavily marked with pink scar tissue. Except for the cast on her ankle, she was naked - as she should be. Tris sat beside her on a lawn chair. He had a book in his lap, a field guide he'd asked the delivery boy to bring him from the bookstore. As usual, few words passed between them as they drank in the serenity of the forest. Suddenly, a bird song broke into the stillness. Margaret looked up. "It's the bird we heard that day," she said softly.
Tris glanced down to the field guide. "I've been waiting for it," he said. "I looked it up. It's a Baltimore Oriole."
Margaret smiled and laid her hand in his. "A Bal-ti-more O-ri-ole. Yes."
*****
Episode Guide
Part One
1. Escape; 2. Introductions; 3. Contract; 4. The Hunt Begins
Part Two
5. Pursuit - and The View from a Deer Stand
Part Three
6. Hesitation; 7. Interlude; 8. The Plan; 9. The Execution
Part Four
10. Beginning