Finding Abigail

by Christina Smith

  She smiled, revealing a dimple on her right cheek. “I never made the connection when he told me your name was Abby Watson.”

  Sofia was swaying back and forth with the cute bundle in her arms. “That she was the Abby Watson that writes children’s books?” she asked Tina.

  She frowned slightly. “Yes, I knew that, but not from my butthead of a brother, but from your mother.” She faced me. “She’s my boss.”

  I nodded, her words confirming my suspicion. “I knew you looked familiar when you walked in.”

  “Your mother is so proud of you. God, it’s such a small world,” she said with a small chuckle. She was smiling now, but I thought I saw a worried expression cross her face. It disappeared as quickly as it came. “Wow, I’m so happy to meet you. I’ve seen you a few times at the hospital, but I was always busy. You have a wonderful mother.”

  “She is, thank you. If you’re the Tina she talks about, she’s very fond of you too.”

  Sofia stepped toward us, the baby stretched out in her arms. “Tina, can you take your baby, supper’s ready.”

  “Oh, I’d better set the table,” I called out, rushing into the dining room and beginning to place the plates in front of the chairs. As I sat the third dish down, Tina walked past me, heading for the living room.

  I leaned back so I could see what she intended to do. I saw her drop the baby into her husband’s lap before grabbing Nick’s arm. She led him outside onto the front porch. The door shut behind them and then opened again. Bobby came in, slamming the door behind her, mumbling something about grownups and privacy.

  Chapter Ten

  Dinner

  I finished the table and went back into the kitchen to see if I could help more. “Anything else?” I asked Sofia. “I could bring the food out.”

  “Yes, honey, that stuff on the counter over there. I’ll bring in the manicotti, it’s ready.”

  I took the garlic bread and fresh parmesan cheese and placed it onto the oak table. Sofia came in with a huge dish and sat it down in the center. “Abby, could you tell everyone dinner is ready?” she asked, glancing around, making sure we had everything.

  “Sure,” I called over my shoulder as I strode down the hall. “Dinner,” I said, poking my head into the living room where most of the men were lounging. Paul, Tina’s husband, whom I had yet to be introduced to, was holding his sleeping daughter.

  I heard a bunch of cheers as I headed to the front door, and the sound of I guessed Paul shushing them.

  “It’s none of your business who I date, Tina.” Nick’s voice was muffled, but I could still hear the agitation in it.

  “She is my boss’s daughter as I’m sure you figured out, but neglected to tell me,” Tina whispered loudly. It was hard to hear through the door, and I wanted to listen longer to see what they were talking about, but I spotted Heather watching me with those haunted, quiet eyes. I smiled at her as I the opened the door, the hinges squawking in protest.

  “How was I supposed to know who she was—” Nick stopped mid-word when I opened the door.

  I gazed first at Tina, who was leaning against the porch railing looking down at the wooden planks. Her feet were bare. She must have been a rush and forgot to slip on her sandals. Then I turned to Nick. “Your mother told me to tell everyone that dinner was ready.”

  He avoided Tina’s and my eyes as he took my hand. “Okay, thanks,” Nick mumbled, leading me through the door, but not before he scowled at his sister.

  Dinner was amazing. I ate so much I couldn’t fit anything else in my stomach. Maybe I shouldn’t have gone for seconds. When Sofia brought out her cheesecake she had made from scratch, there were oh’s and ah’s—I almost groaned. “Here, Abby, you take the first piece,” Sofia insisted, handing me a plate.

  “Oh, no, thank you. It looks really good, but I’m so full I couldn’t eat another bite.”

  Her cheerful smile fell just a bit. “Come on, you’re too thin. Have a piece.”

  I was about to agree to a sliver, when Nick leaned over and growled in my ear, “Eat the goddamn cake.”

  I glanced over at his annoyed expression, and reached up to take the plate. When I tasted it, it was as delicious as I knew it would be; however, my stomach moaned in agony. I ate the whole thing, even though I knew I’d pay for it later.

  We left shortly after I finished helping with the dishes. In his car Nick asked me why I was so quiet. The truth was I didn’t know; it could have been that I was sick. My stomach was upset from all the heavy, rich foods his mother made. But mainly, I didn’t like the look he gave me when he ordered me to eat the goddamn cake. Instead of telling him how I felt, I just shrugged my shoulders and gazed out the window.

  “Can I stay the night?” he asked when we were a block away from my building.

  I still refused to look at him, instead staring down at my dark, dressy jeans. “I’m really not in the mood. I’m not feeling well.”

  He reached over and placed his hand on my knee “I’ll take care of you.”

  The urge to move my leg was strong, but I was trying to feign indifference, to avoid a fight. I just wanted to be alone and if I showed him my true feelings that wouldn’t happen. “No thanks, not tonight. I’ll be boring anyway. I think I’m just going to go straight to bed.”

  He pulled up along the curb in front. “Well, if you’re sure.” He leaned in for a kiss. His lips touched mine and he opened his mouth to take the kiss deeper.

  I pushed him away. “Goodnight,” I said, trying to sound cheerful, but knowing it sounded fake. Before he could stop me, I jumped out of the car and headed inside the building.

  Upstairs, I lay in bed thinking about the evening. His family was nice, and very welcoming. Rob was funny and friendly, so was his father. I liked his mother a lot; she was caring and sweet and just a little strict. She liked things her way, but that was okay. Even though Heather was often guarded, I had caught glimpses of a kind-hearted woman who really loved her children. I liked her, I just wasn’t sure how she felt about me. His sister was my favorite; she kept the conversation going during dinner, telling us stories about the hospital. About old men hitting on her, doctors hitting on her and my mother. About how much she admired and respected her. When she said this she glared at Nick. I looked at him to see his reaction, but he only smiled down at me. I was still really curious to know what had happened outside, and why they were talking about me. When I asked him after dinner when we were alone in the kitchen, he said it was nothing. And the way he said it meant that there was no way he would ever tell me.

  Then there was the incident with the cake. During the past few months I had noticed that he could be impatient and short-tempered, but he was also sweet and funny and always complimented me. He had a way of making me feel that I was special; the only one he wanted to be around. Actually, tonight was the first night we hadn’t spent together in weeks. He must have known I was upset yet he didn’t apologize. I guess that meant he wasn’t sorry that he was rude to me and made me feel like a child. Or maybe he really didn’t clue in that he had been out of line.

  I tossed and turned, churning everything about the evening around in my head. Finally giving up on sleep, I crawled out of bed and into the bathroom to shove an antacid into my mouth. The tablet was chalky, leaving an unpleasant tasted on my tongue. I really shouldn’t have had that second helping of manicotti, or the cheesecake. I probably wouldn’t sleep all night. I gave up and decided to start on a new book. I had finished the Little Miss series and was going to take a little break, but I couldn’t get this new idea out of my head. It was an adventure book, about a boy named Sammy and his dog, Hector, exploring his backyard and finding a new world with talking mice, chipmunks, and raccoons.

  I worked until night turned to day. When I couldn’t keep my eyelids open any longer, I pressed the save button and fumbled to the bedroom, dropping onto the bed. I fell to sleep instantly.

  The sound of the phone ringing woke me. I let it ring, grabbing the covers. I pu
lled them up to my neck and tried to go back to sleep. The shrill ringing started again. “Damn it,” I muttered sleepily. I patted the soft carpet, feeling for the phone and trying to remember where I had had left it last night. The ringing stopped. “Oh, thank God.” I could go back to sleep.

  The ringing began again. “For the love of God,” I growled. This time I leaned up, over the bed, looking around for the freaking phone so I could make the horrible noise stop. I spotted it on the floor by my nightstand. I reached over and grabbed it. “What!” I yelled, extremely annoyed that it was nine thirty a.m., and that meant I had only a few hours’ sleep.

  “Well, good morning to you too. You’re such a grump in the morning,” Debbie complained on the other end of the phone.

  “Well, you would be too if you went to bed at four in the morning,” I mumbled, my face half buried in the pillow.

  “Why the hell did you go to bed so late?” she asked in a way-too-cheerful voice.

  “Because my stomach was upset and I couldn’t sleep, so I got up and started to write—then I couldn’t stop.”

  “I know, that’s why I’m calling. I got your outlines for Sammy’s Big Adventure. I’m not sure of the title, but I love the idea. I’m looking at it right now, and Jesus, you sent it to me at three in the morning?” Her voice rose. “Do I need to make sure you get enough sleep along with teaching you how to dress? What the hell would you do without me?”

  “Sleep in.”

  “Ha ha. Anyway, I showed Cheryl, and she loves it. She’s so excited, she wants to see the first few chapters as soon as you finish. Don’t worry, no deadlines, she knows how you feel about them.”

  “Couldn’t this wait until I was awake?”

  “I’m sorry, I didn’t notice what time you sent the email until just now. I’ll let you go and get some sleep. Call me when you wake up.”

  Without saying goodbye, I clicked the end button and tossed the phone on the floor, burying my face into the pillow.

  I woke a few hours later—starving. I got out of bed and went into the kitchen to make myself some toast with peanut butter. Flopping on the couch, I munched on my toast, my problems from the night before popping in my head. I was still upset with Nick for the way he had snapped me, and I wasn’t sure what to do about it. He was supposed to come over tonight after his shift at work around ten o’clock, but now I was thinking I might call to cancel. I just wasn’t in the mood for company.

  The rest of the day I buried myself in my work. I called Debbie and discussed my plans for the book, and then dove back in with some of the things we had discussed, including changing some of the names of the animals she didn’t like.

  I was deep into a scene when I heard a knock at the door. “Come in, it’s open,” I yelled absently, expecting Sylvia. She sometimes popped in for a cup of coffee, often carrying a coffee cake or banana bread.

  “Hi, am I interrupting you?” The voice was too deep to be Sylvia’s.

  I looked up to see Nick standing in front of the open door with a brown paper bag in one hand and a large bouquet of pink roses in the other. “What…Nick, what are you doing here?” I glanced up at the clock. “It’s only five thirty. I thought you were off at nine.”

  He shut the door and then made his way over to stand in front of me, his eyes filled with remorse. “I got off early. I was such a jerk to you last night, I wanted to come over and make it up to you. I’m so sorry I snapped at you. Can you forgive me?” he asked, handing me the flowers. I hesitated, remembering how he made me feel last night. “Come on, I brought you Chinese food. Chow mein and chicken balls, your favorite.” Setting the bag down on the table, and the flowers on the couch beside me, he got down on his knees and leaned his forehead against mine. He smelled of his usual musk. “Please give me a second chance, I’m such a jerk, and I say stupid things without thinking, you’ll forgive me, right?” He kissed my forehead, my cheeks, my nose, and eventually my lips. “Do you forgive me?” he asked again between kisses.

  I nodded my head, and let him take the kiss further—I couldn’t help it, he was so sweet, kneeling on the floor with the flowers and my favorite food—how could I resist him?

  He stood up, took my hand in his, and yanked me off the sofa, pulling me into the bedroom. “Do want to eat, or make up?” he asked, standing in the doorway.

  “Well, we didn’t really have a fight.”

  He kissed my lips again and rubbed my hand with his thumb. My skin tingled in response. “You were mad. I knew it when you wouldn’t talk to me all the way home.”

  “Fine, I was mad,” I said, leaning up onto my tippy-toes so I could wrap my arms around his neck. “So dinner later, make up now.”

  He grinned, leaned down, and threw me over his shoulder. I laughed as he carried me into my room where we made up—twice.

  Afterward, I lay snuggled up beside him with my head on his chest. “I love you, Abby,” he said in a sigh.

  I froze. Tons of emotions came to mind at once. The strongest was surprise and happiness. I lifted my head up to look into his eyes, smiled, then said, “Really?” He nodded his head. “I love you too.” My voice was just above a whisper, filled with emotion.

  Chapter Eleven

  A Good Day

  “Hold the elevator,” I yelled at Randy, my neighbor from 2B. I juggled the grocery bags that were filled with food to make a nice meal for Nick. We had been dating for four months and I wanted to celebrate. I was in a good mood; I had just gotten an advance from my publisher after they read the first six chapters of Sammy’s Adventure. “Thanks, Randy,” I said as he held the door for me so I could walk out ahead of him toward my apartment.

  “No problem,” he called out as he made his way to his door.

  Inside, I put the bags on the kitchen counter and went to work. I decided to make spaghetti for him, which was one of the few meals I could actually make. Although I was sure if I really tried, I could cook anything. The problem was, I had no interest. Cooking took up too much time. It was much faster to open a can or a carton.

  “You’re cooking?” Nick asked, standing in the doorway to the kitchen, his mouth hanging open in shock.

  I tried not to take offense to his shocked expression. I turned away from the pot of noodles I was stirring and smirked. “And why is that surprising?”

  Laying his leather briefcase that he kept his reports in onto the table, he came over and wrapped his arms around my waist, pulling me in for a kiss. “Because in the four months I’ve known you, I’ve only seen you make eggs, bacon, toast, and frozen dinners.”

  I leaned into him, basking in the warmth of his body. “Why cook when you can order in?” When the sauce started to bubble, I pulled out of his arms to turn down the burner. “But tonight I’m celebrating two things. One—I had a good day with my publisher. And two—today is our four-month anniversary. Don’t worry, it’s no big deal, I just thought I’d cook.”

  Instantly, guilt flashed over his face. “Honey, I’m so sorry, I didn’t know you planned something special.”

  “It’s no big deal. I told you its just spaghetti.”

  “I know, but you’re so sweet to think of it. But I asked Brian and Debbie over for dinner, I thought we could order a pizza. There’s a good game on tonight.” He stepped away from me and opened the fridge.

  Disappointment flowed through me, but left quickly. “Debbie didn’t mention it.”

  He reached in and pulled out a beer. “Brian was going to tell her when he got home. But it’s okay. I’ll cancel.” His face looked sincere. He was willing to change his plans, but I knew he didn’t want to.

  “No, don’t. We haven’t spent time with them in a while. It’s great, I made enough for four.”

  He grinned, pulling me in for a quick hug and then letting me go. “Cool, I’ll just go in and have a shower. Do I still have those jeans and my blue shirt here or did I take them home?”

  As I stirred the sauce, I answered him absently, half listening to the soft music of Pink that
was playing in the living room. “They’re here. I washed them yesterday. They’re hanging in my closet.” Placing the spoon on the counter, I turned to him. “You know, you can bring more clothes over if you want, I don’t mind. You’re here most nights anyway.”

  He came up behind me and leaned in, kissing the back of my neck, sending tingles along my skin. “Great. I might just take you up on that. I’d better get moving, they should be here soon,” he called out, rushing into the bathroom. When the shower turned on, I had to resist the urge to join him. It wouldn’t look too good if Debbie and Brian showed up to find us both soaking wet—but satisfied—with no food to eat. I sighed as I stirred the sauce again. The scent of garlic floated out of the oven, alerting me that the bread was done.

  I had just finished setting the table when I heard a knock on the door. “Come in, it’s open.”

  Nick came out of the bedroom looking fresh and sexy, his damp hair curling around his collar, smelling of soap and cologne.

  Debbie breezed in with something in her hand. From where I stood in the kitchen I couldn’t see what it was. “Hi, what’s that smell? Don’t tell me you cooked.” She headed straight for the counter that separated the kitchen from the living room. Brian followed her holding a case of beer.

  “As a matter of fact, I did,” I said. Now that she was closer to me, I saw that she was holding a square cardboard box in her hand. “You didn’t?” I pointed to the box.

  She grinned. “Oh, yes, I did.”

  “When did you do it? Nick said they just decided after work, that’s not enough time.”