Not Wonder More by Rod Raglin

Author:Rod Raglin
Language: eng
Format: mobi
Tags: Nietzsche, love, potions, crow, Porsche, Romance, schizophrenia, lawyer, madness, developer, environment, slough, medicine, Native land claims, raven, development, herb, trees, old growth forest, habitat destruction, Natives, mystery, lung cancer, magic, island, Paranormal, natural healing, river, corporate
Publisher: devine destinies
Published: 0101-01-01T00:00:00+00:00

“You’re not having lemonade, Dad?”

“Rose hip tea, iced. It’s good for my arthritis.”

Dieter looked at Maggie. She smiled and held up her glass.

Yesterday, when he’d arrived home he found the stalks of dried fennel attached to the apartment door with duct tape. Around the frame were small bunches of yellow Marigolds likewise secured. When he asked Maggie what the purpose of the floral decorations were, she looked at him matter-of-factly and said, to ward off evil. He was concerned what the neighbours would think and relieved when the building maintenance person called and said they had to be removed.

“Can’t have dead flowers littering the hallways,” Dieter had said.

“What about wreaths at Christmas time?” She’d been moody and withdrawn the rest of the evening.

But today Maggie was full of life—animated, sparkling, impossibly loveable. Her body was lean and brown in shorts and a t-shirt, her face flushed from the heat, a dirt smudged cheek, and a crease-free brow beaded with sweat.

“You’re father showed me his workshop. He’s an excellent craftsman.”

“Nein, no,” Rudy said. “It was part of my job.”

“There was always some renovation underway when I was growing up,” Dieter said. “He built this veranda last year.”

“I have pictures of what it looked like before?” his father said.

“I’d love to see them.”

Rudy disappeared into the house returning with an armload of photo albums, including his son’s high school yearbooks.

“I don’t think Maggie is interested in the family history” Dieter squirmed in his seat.

Rudy hesitated.

“I most certainly am.” Maggie helped him stack his burden on the patio table.

Dieter cringed. He’d been a gangly teen, an uncoordinated construction of sharp angles with a hairline embroidered with zits. High school had been a torment and his father showing Maggie pictures of a nerdy looking adolescent, a head taller than his classmates, made more conspicuous by a haircut that suited a marine recruit, made him feel exposed and annoyed. These memories were private and painful.

“This is our little shack when we bought it.” Rudy slid a black and white photo in front of his guest. “This was taken last summer.”

“You did all this yourself?”

Rudy grinned.

“Raised the house, added the upstairs?”

“Not so much,” he said.

Maggie stood and examined the workmanship of the veranda railings. “My family home has a veranda. It was my favourite place. My mother and I use to sit there…” Maggie pressed her fingers to her lips and turned away from the men. Her thin shoulders lifted, fell, lifted, then stayed slumped. She leaned heavily on the railing.

“It could be yours again.” The words escape from Dieter’s mouth like the cage door to his heart had been left open.

“You think?” Her face brightened. “It would need a lot of work.”

“I could take a look,” Rudy said.

“Would you?” Maggie rushed back to the table. “We could fix it up and maybe we could all live there together?”

They both looked at Dieter.

“I meant it could be yours if we win the case,” Dieter said. “What makes the two of you think I want to live

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