The Tea Shop

by Bernadette Marie

  Carson sat forward and put his feet on the floor. He'd gone lightheaded just thinking about it. He'd never thought of any of the women he’d dated like that. Marriage had never crossed his mind.

  Sure, he assumed someday he get married. He didn't figure he'd start making plans in his own head about a woman he'd only met a few weeks ago. He supposed when the time was right, the time was right. Mrs. Winters would probably agree with him there.

  Carson sucked in a breath and let it out slowly. He was lucky he managed a dinner date last night. He'd see how it went when they went to visit Mrs. Winters today. Perhaps after they had their visit, he could convince her to take a stroll down alongside Clear Creek. Carson always thought himself charming under the moonlight.

  The thought made him laugh, and he stood up and returned to his office.

  The high tea for Thursday afternoon had been fully reserved. Abigail had found that most of the tourists came in on Thursday afternoons, and tea was an easy enough outing for them. Most of them had plans to head to the mountains, climb a fourteener, and tour the brewery. Golden was filling up with microbreweries, and that alone had become a massive fascination to the tourists who frequented Golden.

  Abigail was clearing an empty table, her hands full of antique Prussian cups when Carson strolled through the door. She looked up at him, a panic zipped through her heart. “You’re extremely early. Nothing happened to Mrs. Winters did it?"

  Had his face flashed a sign of annoyance? "No, I spoke to her half an hour ago, she's fine. I wrapped up early and thought I would come here. If I'm in the way…”

  "No. No, I'm sorry. Can I get you a cup of tea? We have some fresh scones.”

  He moved to her and took the cups from her hand. "Let me help you. If Clare is okay with it, I'll sit in the back. I'll be like the very special friend who just gets to hang out in the kitchen," he said with a wink as he turned toward the kitchen.

  Abigail brushed her hands down the front of her apron. She supposed she should get used to that. If all of her premonitions came true, he'd probably be sitting in the kitchen quite a bit. She pressed a hand to her jittery stomach. She wasn't sure if she got nervous around him because she knew their fate, or if she was beginning to feel their fate. Still, she had a plan. First things first; to save that church. She would just have to push aside her feelings for Carson until that had happened. If this burden of a superpower was going to inhibit how she lived her life, she might as well use it for good. She was absolutely sure he would want to be with her. So she was going to get her way.

  She turned back to the table and picked up a few more dishes and scraped the crumbs from the table. Yes, she'd make him a warm scone and a cup of tea. She’d visit his lifelong friend, and perhaps tonight he would finally kiss her. She could go along with that. That church would be saved by the end of the week.

  By the time she had taken the dishes to the kitchen, Clare had already set Carson up with a cup of tea and a scone.

  “She's packing up a box of scones and pastries for Mrs. Winters.”

  "Good," Abigail said. "I had wanted to do that for her. I think she’ll enjoy it.”

  "Oh, she will. She keeps talking about it. I told her she should come down and see you anytime, but I think she’s afraid of leaving home by herself.”

  Abigail caught the look that Clare shot toward her. "Her husband isn't living any longer?”

  "He died years ago. So, even though we have lunch every month, I make sure to stop by every couple days. Her kids are nearby too, as well as her grandkids. But, I happen to be the closest.”

  Abigail turned so that he couldn't see her, and neither could Clare. A few moments ago she wanted to use the man to get what she needed. But how could she do that to somebody whose heart was so big? The struggle inside of her burned. "Let me finish cleaning up the front area. I think I will be done here soon. Then we can head over."

  “Take your time," he said picking up his scone and taking a bite. "I'm in no hurry, and I forgot to eat lunch. I may have to scam another scone from Clare.”

  Clare laughed, and brought him another one, setting it on his plate.

  Well, Abigail thought, he'd already won her over, and she'd been as mad about the church as Abigail had been, perhaps more so. She'd take each day one at a time. Right now, however, she wanted to see Mrs. Winters for herself. She was afraid perhaps the illness was already starting to take over.

  Chapter 12

  Mrs. Winters lived on the back side of Lookout Mountain in Genesee. Abigail wondered if perhaps it was too big a house for her, and too far from anyone else. Sure, she had plenty of neighbors, but still, they weren't right next door.

  Carson put the car in park in the driveway. "Let me open your door," he said. "I would do it anyway. I think it's a gentlemanly thing to do. But if she's looking out the window, and she sees you get out without me opening your door, I'll be in a lot of trouble.”

  Abigail laughed. "I promise not to make you look bad in front of her. Is that her front yard rose garden?"

  Carson followed her gaze to the front door. "Yep. And it’s early October, don’t they look great?”

  "They do. My mother would be very jealous. She has a rose garden, but it's nothing in comparison." She laughed again. "In fact, it's just a garden full of thorns."

  "I'd like to see that sometime," he said and climbed from the car.

  Abigail let that linger. Did he really want to go home with her? Perhaps not right away. After all, people still thought she was strange. They might try to sway him in different directions.

  He opened the door and held out his hand. Abigail took it and stepped out of the car just as Mrs. Winters opened the front door.

  "Good afternoon, Mrs. Winters," Abigail called up to her.

  "Abigail, how wonderful to see you. Carson, you help her up the stairs," she instructed, and Carson offered his arm.

  He'd been right. She looked frailer. As Abigail reached the top stair, Mrs. Winters held out her hand to her. Abigail prayed that the look of fear didn't take over her face, but she was sincerely afraid to touch her. She didn't want to know the truth behind her illness. But she took the woman's hand, and kept a gracious smile on her face as the world around her spun, flickered light, and embedded images so deep in her mind, she'd never get them out.

  She felt Carson's hand come to her waist. He moved in close. "Are you okay?" He whispered in her ear. "You look like you did the other day.”

  "I'm fine. The altitude still gets to me sometimes.”

  They followed Mrs. Winter back to her kitchen. Abigail smiled when she saw the display that she had set out on the table. There would be no need for them to go to dinner tonight, she thought. Mrs. Winters obviously knew how to entertain.

  "Abigail, I'm so glad you came to my home. I would still like it if you would have tea with us for my birthday.”

  Carson nudged her with his elbow. "I told you.”

  Mrs. Winters urged them both to sit, and she sat with them. Abigail noted that she was winded by the time they sat down.

  "I love your home here. The scenery is beautiful.”

  Mrs. Winters instructed Carson to begin to serve them. "Where are you from, Abigail?”

  Abigail took the small plate that Carson held out to her. "Just outside Kansas City. My family still lives there.”

  "My husband and I would travel there often. I have family there too. All of Carson's people are here. Isn't that right, Carson?”

  He had stood to pour them each a glass of lemonade. “That's correct.”

  Abigail thought she'd be more comfortable if she directed the conversation toward him. "Tell me about your family, Carson.”

  There was a moment of shock that registered on his face. And, by Mrs. Winter’s smile, she recognized it as well.

  Carson sat down and placed the pitcher of lemonade in front of him. "You've met my mother. I assume it won't be long before you meet my father. She's already talked to him about you, and wanting to take him to your st
ore. I have an older sister who lives in Boulder with her husband and three kids. My brother lives in Denver with his wife. They don't have any kids, and right now they're living the LoDo life.”

  Mrs. Winters touched Abigail's arm again. "His family is fantastic. You want to get to know them," she said as if she had all the information she was transferring to Abigail.

  Abigail warmly smiled. "I hate to interrupt getting to know everybody, but may I use your restroom?”

  "Of course, it's right down the hall," she offered as she pointed in the direction.

  Abigail noted that Carson stood as she left the room.

  She quickly found the restroom and tucked herself inside. She let out a long steady breath. The Alzheimer's, though Mrs. Winters seemed very sharp at the moment, was rapidly taking over. She didn't suppose by Christmas that Mrs. Winters would be living in the same house. Her heart ached, so she pressed her hand to it.

  And Carson, she and Carson—oh, it took her breath away. If the images were correct, she and Carson would be married on the hillside where she assumed Jeffery died. She saw a tiny house, three small children, and herself with a pregnant belly. It was more vivid than anything she'd ever seen in her entire life, and that included the girl in the river. But there had been something else. She could hardly breathe. It had been dark, dusty, and it was if it was all falling in around her. Carson was there too. There was no need to fight this anymore, Carson was her soulmate. This relationship was meant to be, to grow, to endure. Perhaps she needed to come out and be straightforward with him. That would be best. It would give them an opportunity to run, run like hell. She'd consider doing that. Not tonight. Maybe not tomorrow. But soon. In fact for the next few weeks, she figured she'd be giving Carson some strength. He was going to need it with Mrs. Winters’ deterioration. Abigail swore to herself that she would have tea with them. It would be an honor to be served tea along with Mrs. Winters.

  * * *

  After what had been an absolutely beautiful afternoon, Carson drove back to town and parked outside the tea shop. He turned off the engine and sat there quietly. Abigail didn't move. Perhaps she was afraid to get out of the car without him opening the door. He shifted a glance in her direction.

  "Her son called me today. He told me she’s in the early stages of Alzheimer's. I haven’t been able to wrap my head around that.”

  “It's a rapid-moving disease. She’ll be very lucky to have you around.”

  "I'm not ready to watch that happen."

  Abigail reached across the car and took his hand, holding it tight. "Don't ask me how, but I knew she was sick. Her sickness is going to take over. You need to talk to her family, and they need to put her in a home soon. For her own good.”

  He looked at her, narrowing his eyes. "Don't tell me not to ask, that's a lot of information."

  "In time. Please trust me.”

  He kept his eyes locked onto hers. It was as if he'd been looking into her eyes his whole life, she knew him. It was all too strange. Why her? Why now?

  On instinct, and as if it was the most natural thing to do, he leaned in and pressed his lips to hers.

  Chapter 13

  Abigail's first reaction would have been to pull back, but Carson's mouth on hers felt right. She'd never been kissed like that before. Every emotion she'd ever had swirled inside of her. She wanted to pull him closer, but there was a great need to push him away. Instead, she stayed with him, his mouth moving against hers, his hand reaching up into her hair.

  It was love. It was absolute love rushing right at her. She had to tell him the truth. He had to know she saw this coming, both him and Mrs. Winters. He would run. He would run fast and far. They all did.

  She pulled back and caught her breath.

  Carson eased back in his seat. "I'm sorry. I promised myself I would wait a long time before I did that. I couldn't wait any longer.”

  "Don't apologize. I wanted you to do that. I just think it's going to make things difficult."

  “Why should it be difficult? We're getting to know each other. I didn't ask you to marry me.”

  She pulled her keys from her purse and held them in her hand. No, she was sure she understood how he would propose to her. It hadn't been a full premonition, but there were pieces. She damned this sixth sense. She hated that it stole all the special moments of her life. Although, the premonitions hadn't come from him, except that one dark one. They’d all come from Mrs. Winters.

  "I should get headed home. Clare is taking the morning off tomorrow. I need to be in early." She opened the car door. "You don't need to help me out of the car. I'll be fine.”

  But as she stepped out onto the sidewalk, he opened his door and walked around to her. In a matter of seconds, she found herself wrapped in his arms and pressed against him again. She looked up into dark brown eyes, and at that moment she felt total calm.

  "Don't walk away from me upset, please. If I've moved too fast, I'm sorry. There is simply something about you, and it pulls me to you.”

  "I've never had anybody attracted to me before," she said looking down.

  Carson lifted her chin with his finger. "I don't believe that. Everything about you is perfect.”

  She winced, and her heart ached with his words. “That’s proof you don’t know anything about me.”

  “That's why I'm begging for a chance to get to know you. If you're not interested, you need to tell me. But I'm the kind of guy that asks questions. I’m gonna want to know why.”

  She was interested. Regardless of knowing their fate, he had piqued her interest. "I am interested," she said as she ran a hand down his arm and thought how nice it was to be wrapped up in them. "Give me time.”

  "I have all the time in the world," he promised as he dipped his head to kiss her again.

  This time she let herself sink with the kiss. Raising her arms, she wrapped them around his neck and pulled him in tightly. The kiss warmed her, from her head to her toes. Perhaps this would be the best birthday gift she'd ever given herself, a chance to love someone and let them love her. If he truly did love her, in time, he'd understand her gift—her burden.

  Carson's fingers tangled in her hair as his tongue moved between her lips. Abigail was quite sure if she died right then, she would die a happy woman.

  As Carson pulled back, he brushed her cheek with his thumb. "I'll come by tomorrow after work. Let's go for a walk down by Clear Creek. I'll try to take it slow, and simple. But it'll kill me until I see you again, even if it is tomorrow."

  "I'll see you then," she said she pulled away slowly and walked around the building towards her car.

  Meetings, blueprints, and agendas were part of Carson's usual day. Because he was addicted to his work, each one of those items always brought some joy to him. But today, his mind was a million miles away. All he could think about was Abigail.

  He thought of her voice, her clothes, and how her hair felt between his fingers. He closed his eyes and thought of the kisses, so soft, and so warm.

  Moving his chair closer to his desk, he opened up his computer. He typed the name of her tea store into the search bar just to see a picture of it. Scanning through the menu, the history, and the reviews made him feel as though he were with her.

  Clicking the About Us tab, he brought up a picture of Clare and Abigail standing outside the tea room in front of the big window with the logo on it. They each had a bio, so he read them.

  He knew Abigail had moved here from near Kansas City. So what was it that was near Kansas City? He typed in her name to the search tab, along with the words tea shop, and Kansas City. Then, a whole list of things popped up.

  Because he wanted to know who she was when she lived near Kansas City, he started at the bottom and scrolled his way up.

  A cheerleader in a small rural high school.

  Captain of the debate team.

  Honor roll student.

  Daughter of a pharmacist, who had worked at the local pharmacy for nearly thirty years.

  Su
spect in the murder of Katie Meadows, ten-year-old, fifth-grader who had been found drowned in the river.

  That last headline had him stopping, his hand forming to the mouse on his desk. Obviously, the name Abigail Weston was common enough to get honor roll students, cheerleaders, and murderers all bunched together in a search engine.

  However, it was curious enough that he clicked the link.

  Katie Meadows had gone missing on a March evening. The article went on to say that her friends had said they were all going to meet at the elementary school at eleven o'clock at night. It was all a matter of testing boundaries at a young age. When Katie did not arrive, they assumed she got scared. It wasn't until nearly ten o'clock the next morning that her parents notified police that she was missing. A search began right away. Katie Meadows was not found until Abigail Weston, daughter of Mr. and Mrs. Clyde Weston of Parkville, Missouri, came forth suggesting that they look downriver for Katie Meadows. The body of the missing fifth-grader was found in the White Branch River.

  Abigail Weston was held for questioning; however, after further investigation, the girl's death was ruled an accidental death. No more information was given on how Ms. Weston obtained the information as to where to find the body.

  Carson rubbed his fingers over his chin as he read the article over and over. He was immersed enough in his investigation, that when his mother opened his office door, it startled him.

  “You must be working really hard." His mother walked further into his office. "I knocked. I promise I did.”

  "Sorry, I was reading something.”

  "I was just going to tell you that I was going to leave a little early today. Your father and I are going over to Abigail's store for lunch. A late lunch. I want him to meet her," she said enthusiastically.

  Carson only nodded. The story still had him emotionally twisted up. He'd ask her about it tonight. Perhaps, nearby Kansas City had more than one Abigail Weston. Yes, that had to be it.