What the Lawyer Said about Maggie

Whitey glanced around the Jungle Club to make sure we were having a private conversation.

“We’re really worried about Maggie,” he said.

Barbara (Whitey’s wife) nodded in agreement. “Her mother wants her back.”

Barbara (my wife) said, “Her mother wants her back? I don’t understand.”

Barbara (Whitey’s wife), explained. “I guess you haven’t heard the story. You might say we rescued Maggie.

“We have a friend who’s a teacher. She arranged for us to meet one of her pupils. She told us the girl was a wonderful kid who came from a dreadful family. Alcohol, violence, drugs, who knows what life was like for her at home?

“For us, it was love at first sight. Right away we started trying to figure out a way to do something for her.”

“The teacher told us Maggie’s mother was greedy,” Whitey said. “So we offered Maggie a job here at the club and promised to pay her wages directly to her mother. We offered room and board too.”

“Didn’t take mama long to grab that deal,” Barbara added. “Extra money coming in, and one less mouth to feed.

“So Maggie has been living with us for almost a year. She goes to school every day then helps out here at the club. Her teacher says she’s really making good progress in school since moving in with us.”

The Jungle Club

Whitey and Barbara's Jungle Club was tucked away in a side bay of the harbor at Golfito, a sea port on the Pacific side of Costa Rica.

Following the example of a few other cruisers, Whitey and Barbara had found a likely location, moved ashore, and created a haven. Cruisers could anchor safely, take long showers, socialize, get local advice, and order from a short menu. Hamburgers and beer sold well.

The Jungle Club was well named. Howler monkeys howled in the tall trees, smaller monkeys chittered further up the hill, flocks of parrots flew overhead in dozens of pairs, squawking.

A worker found a gorgious seven foot Emerald Tree Boa Constrictor hanging out in the communal shower. Using the snake stick that always leaned ready in a corner, he and I caught it and carried it outside.

We released it pointing uphill, assuming it would head for the jungle. Instead it whipped around, slithered downhill between us, and swam away though a swampy area along the shore. 

Maggie

Maggie was 12. Perhaps she was called Margareta when she moved to the Club, then was given an American nickname by Whitey and Barbara.

Maggie sparkled with personality, good humor, and positive energy. She chatted with everyone as she served food and cold drinks, cleared tables and swept the floor.

She spoke no English when she arrived at the club. Already she was well on her way to fluency. Frequently she asked cruisers for a new word. The next day she’d be using it. Often we’d see her, head down at a back corner table, absorbed in homework.

“We stalled Maggie's mother when she said it was time for Maggie to come home,” Barbara continued. "She agree to let Maggie stay in school until the term ends in December.

“Now we're really scared. We asked around Golfito. We found out Maggie’s family is known for putting their daughters on the street as soon as they reach puberty.”

Barbara and I were stunned. We knew such things happened in Latin America . . . but surely not to our Maggie.

Whitey and Barbara told us that from the beginning they had hoped to adopt Maggie. They knew the mother would probably agree . . . but she’d demand “the rich Americans” pay far more than they could afford. The mother probably considered Maggie worth even more money now that she was beginning to blossom.

Meeting with the lawyer

 “We’re meeting with a lawyer next week. But we’re not getting our hopes up. If Maggie’s mother says she has to come home, there’s probably nothing we can do about it.”

Barbara and I intended to set sail the next day for two months in Panama. We’d have to wait to find out how things worked out.

We dropped anchor back at Golfito in time to join the other cruisers for Christmas.

Maggie was singing a carol and weaving through the tables carrying a tray of hamburgers. Whitey waved from behind the bar with his usual grin, wearing, as usual, nothing but a swim suit. We could see Barbara through the door behind him, at work in the kitchen.

As soon as we could get them aside we asked, “How are things working out with Maggie's mother?"

“Perfect. Couldn't be better. We explained the situation to the lawyer. He asked how old Maggie was. We told him she had turned 12 in October.

“He said we had nothing to worry about. Under Costa Rican law,  12 is the age of majority. Legally Maggie's an adult. She can do whatever she wants.”

NEXT POST

Finding the Best Place to Eat in Tucacas