Maggie's Mirage -p

by Jeanine Collins Malarsky

Born to a poor Catholic family near Boston, Maggie Kearney rises from rags to riches, using those who can help, and discarding all who cannot. Eager to bury her poverty- stricken past with its shameful secret, she lets nothing stand in her way, not family, not love, and certainly not honesty.

Loving her too much is her husband Harry Logan who struggles to adhere to his grandmother’s teachings of honesty and integrity while raising a family and climbing the corporate ladder. Against the background of the stock market’s frenzied rise through the 1990s, Maggie and Harry share their passion while coping with family tragedy and financial crisis.

As the millennium ushers in a new century, loyalties falter and the bonds of love are tested. When faced with the cost of winning, are Harry and Maggie willing to pay the price?

ISBN 978-1-59431-848-1 Women's Contemporary Fiction / Mainstream

The Stain of Guilt

Late November, 1962

“I’m desperate!” Under the heavy blanket, Maggie Kearney cupped her hand to the phone and spoke in a hoarse whisper. “You’re my best friend. Please ask your brother,” she begged Maisie Sullivan. “He got his girlfriend out of trouble. He knows somebody. I can’t go through with this. I’ll end up just like your sister.” Maggie took a deep breath and clutched her quivering stomach. “Remember all our dreams, Maisie? All our plans? I should have listened to you. A baby will ruin everything.”

“Murderer!” Maureen Kearney screamed as she burst into her elder daughters’ bedroom and ripped the blanket off Maggie’s head. “What are you doing? Trying to get an abortion?” She flung the homemade quilt to the floor, yanked the receiver from her frightened daughter’s ear, and threw the phone into the upstairs hall. “Harlot!” Flecks of spittle sprayed the air as Maureen spat her angry words into her cowering daughter’s face. “Baby killer!”

A cluster of young girls gathered at the doorway, drawn by the crashing of the phone and the bleak ring of its bells as it slammed against the far wall.

From her bed, Maggie stared at her curious sisters, then back down at her crossed legs outlined beneath her threadbare nightgown. An icy claw gripped deep into her gut. This had been her greatest fear: her mother finding out she was pregnant. A film of cold perspiration crept over her skin. Droplets of moisture trickled from her armpits tracing shiny rivulets down her trembling ribs.

“Get back to your rooms,” Maureen Kearny ordered, reaching for the door and slamming it shut. “What are you trying to do?” she cried, whirling back to Maggie. “Shannon says you’re pregnant."