When You Love a Scotsman

by Hannah Howell

  “There is food here,” she murmured. “Over by the wall.”

  Moving Abbie off of him, he walked over to pick up the basket. “Heavy.”

  He sat down and started to take out two plates and two of everything else. Clutching the sheet to herself, Abbie sat up as he poured them each some cider. There were fat sandwiches and fried chicken and they both began to eat as if they were starved.

  “We are being a bit piggy,” said Abbie as she picked up a napkin and wiped her mouth.

  “Need the fuel for what lies ahead.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “It is now our wedding night and we have time to make up for.”

  “I thought we’d just done that. Twice.”

  “Nope. I figure we can stop and sleep at about dawn.”

  She stared at him for a moment. “I think you will be on your own for the last few hours of that.” A grin tugged at her mouth when he laughed. “I actually could go to sleep now.”

  “Satisfaction followed by food. Always makes one sleepy. But I will wake ye up, for a while.”

  He did, and she was well satisfied with his efforts. Abbie could not stay awake any longer though and curled up beside him to go to sleep. They had years to play such games although she suspected they would enjoy them more now while still young and in good shape. She smiled as she slipped into sleep.

  * * *

  Matthew looked at Abbie asleep in his arms. He wrapped both arms around her and gave her a gentle hug. This was what he wanted, and he wondered why it had taken him so long to make up his mind. He had just feared the idea of marriage as he figured many men did.

  No more overthinking it, he decided as he closed his eyes. This was where he wanted to be, who he wanted to be with. He already cared for the children she brought with her as well. It would be interesting to see what they produced together. He idly decided he should probably find out how she felt about having children but decided it could wait until he got a bit of rest.

  * * *

  After a few days they called their honeymoon, Abigail and Matthew started back. She was just about to say something when they both heard a horse coming up behind them. Matthew turned, shoving her behind him at the same time, but then he grinned.

  “James! What are ye doing here?”

  “You didn’t invite me to the wedding?” James attempted to look offended, but his obvious delight in finding Matthew spoiled it.

  “Didnae ken where ye were.”

  “Weel, we were helping them push their way through the South. It was brutal. Doc took a hit but he’ll be fine.”

  “Heard that from Abbie’s brother.”

  “Wondered if he got here. So, the major had the doctor sign these papers. We are all out of it. He isn’t sure we even need these but decided we should have something official in case someone demands it and thinks to pull us back in.”

  “I heard it was all as good as over.”

  “I think it is. But you can never be sure what some officer might get into his head, and suspect the penalties for desertion and other such things will be handed out for a while. We have been officially released. Got one for Boyd, and Dan got his. Ran right home, he did.”

  “What are ye going to do?”

  “No idea yet. Just meandering.”

  “Weel, come meander up to my home.”

  James dismounted, took his reins in hand, and walked beside Matthew. Abigail smiled faintly as the man fished for all the information he could on the area. The man might not recognize it but he was searching for a home. She recognized the signs for she had been doing the same. She had found hers.

  Chapter Twenty

  Abigail patted the dirt down carefully around the small rose bush she had planted. Maude had sent her two, called them beach roses, and swore they were hardy. Now she had one planted on each side of the front door. As she stood up and brushed the dirt off, she hoped the blooms would be the same color. She looked around trying to decide where to plant the lavender seeds Maude had also sent her.

  She looked at the colorful red door on her home and smiled. It had taken two years but they finally had a home of their own a short walk down the road from the big MacEnroy house. In fact, they had put it in the spot where they had spent their wedding night. She always liked to pinch at Matthew by calling it the box. It was square and two stories high with a long front porch, a matching one running by the back door. It had none of the often elaborate decorative touches of the houses she had grown up seeing in Pennsylvania, but she loved it. With Robbie directing her when he could, she was even learning how to weave. She was no match for his artistic touch in the skill, but she had made a number of pretty carpets for her home and had even sold a few things, making enough so that they had the joy and comfort of indoor plumbing.

  The sound of Matthew working on the fencing-in of the backyard made her think she should bestir herself to offer him a drink of either their brothers’ cider or some lemonade. She was just moving toward the back to speak to him when she spotted a wagon approaching. As it drew closer she saw that it was being driven by an older man. An older woman sat near him while a small boy sat securely between them. In the back of the wagon was a younger woman, three girls who had to be in their late teens, and another young boy. Then she saw the little package the woman held, recognized it as the one she had mailed out to Robert’s parents two years ago, and a chill went down her spine.

  “Matthew!” she called as the wagon was pulling to a halt in front of the house and picked up Lily, her cat, because she knew the still-small Wags would follow Noah, who would follow Matthew when he answered her call. So would Jeremiah, she thought, and wished she had not called to her husband. She had the sudden strong urge to grab the boy and hide him away.

  The older woman stepped down from the wagon seat and walked to the start of the path to the front door. “Mrs. MacEnroy?”

  “Which one?” she asked, and cursed herself for a coward.

  “Mrs. Abigail MacEnroy?”

  “Yes.”

  Noah skipped up to her, and his dog, not much bigger than the puppy he had been two years ago, began hopping around Abigail, trying to reach Lily who watched him calmly from her spot on her shoulders.

  Walking up the path the woman stopped in front of her and Abigail noticed that Jeremiah’s eyes came from his grandmother. “You sent me this picture of Robert’s child. Did the baby survive?”

  “Oh yes.” Forcing a stubborn reluctance aside, Abbie reached behind her and dragged Jeremiah to her side, pinning him in place with an arm around his thin shoulders.

  The woman stared at Jeremiah and held her hand out behind her. “John.” The man with her stepped up quickly, grabbed her hand, and stood beside her. “This child is Jeremiah?”

  “He is,” replied Abby. “Jeremiah Robert Collins. Jeremiah, this is your grandmother.”

  Even as she looked down on the child, Abbie kept a watch on the others who began to climb out of the wagon and slowly walk closer. They were all studying Jeremiah, and the boy pressed even closer to Abigail.

  “I had three sons,” the woman said quietly, her voice thick with unshed tears. “The war took them all. They all marched off to join the Union and not one marched back. The older boys left behind something. John, Jr. left his wife Miriam”—the woman with the children curtsied—“and his three children.” Two of the girls and one of the boys stood with Miriam. “And the other left a daughter and a son. Then came your letter and the picture and I could see that even Robert, my golden boy, had left a piece of himself behind. He died before he could see him, didn’t he?”

  “I fear so,” Abigail replied as Matthew stepped up beside her to introduce himself. “But he knew a child was coming, if that is any comfort.”

  “It is, or will be.” The woman knelt down and looked Jeremiah in the eye. “You do have the look of your papa, Jeremiah. Can you say hello?”

  “’Lo. That is my brover, Noah,” he said and pointed at Noah who had edged up nearer to Abig
ail. “That is my da,” he said, pointing at Matthew and he grabbed hold of Abbie’s skirts. “She is my ma.”

  “I see. You do have other family though. This is Miriam, your aunt. This is Beth and this is Alice,” she said, pulling the girls over to stand in front of her. She waved the others forward. This is Gavin.” She ruffled the hair of the one who had sat beside her. “This boy”—she tugged the one who had sat in the back of the wagon closer—“is Henry. They are all your cousins, as is Lillian here.”

  “I have a lot of cousins.”

  “Ye do, lad,” said Matthew.

  “You have to make cousins for Noah.”

  “I will tell my brothers to get busy on that.” He looked down at the ground to hide his grin when the boy nodded.

  “Come in and have a drink,” invited Abigail. “We have cider and lemonade.”

  “I will tend to your horses,” said Matthew, and started to walk toward the wagon.

  Abigail led them all into the house and, with Miriam’s aid, gathered enough seats to have them all settled by the table. She gave each one a tall drink of their choice then poured a tankard of cider for Matthew. He obviously saw the slight tremor in her hands because he smiled softly and kissed her cheek then stood behind her when she took her seat. Then he brought over a plate of the cookies and muffins she had baked that morning and set them out with a few plates for people to use.

  “I did write to say we would come but I suspect it will show up months from now. We have been trying to leave New York for quite a while. Then the land and house finally sold and we were on our way, and I prayed the whole way here that the child still lived.”

  “He is a very healthy little fellow,” said Abigail. “Why did you sell everything to come here?”

  “So that we could live near the child.”

  “Oh.” At least it did not sound as if they expected the boy to be handed over to them immediately. Mrs. Collins reached across the table to pat Abigail’s clenched hands. “We just want to be close at hand. The girl named you his guardian and we respect that. But we are his family and we should be close.”

  The knots in her stomach started to unravel and Abigail relaxed. They were not here to take Jeremiah or fight to take him. Glancing at all the others, she decided the woman had a large enough family as it was then scolded herself for the thought.

  She had tried not to get too attached to the child but her heart had its own plans and now it would be as if someone wanted to take her own flesh and blood. It was the same with Noah. She had the sudden pang over the fact that she had not yet quickened with Matthew’s child but shoved it aside.

  “Do you know where you are going to be staying?” she asked.

  “We do.” She smiled at her husband. “Tell them, John.”

  “Well, we found an empty saloon. And the woman in the general store connected to it told us how to make an offer to the man who used to own it. We now do. He just wanted the place gone so the bargaining did not take long. I have no urge to run a drinking establishment but we figure we can make something of it and it has rooms for all of us.”

  “Which will be thoroughly scrubbed,” muttered Mrs. Collins.

  “So what do you think you will do with it?”

  “Not really sure yet, but Molly and me did wonder about making it a place to gather but without the liquor. Not against a man having a drink, but don’t want to deal with all the trouble that often comes with a saloon,” said John.

  “It could get rowdy,” agreed Matthew.

  “All we want to do is to be part of his life,” said Mrs. Collins. “Get to know him and let him come to know us. It seems the children are all I have left of my sons. They are dead. Gavin’s wife died. We have Miriam and the children and we mean to stick together.” Miriam nodded as did the children.

  Abigail listened to them talk about all the ideas they had for what used to be the saloon and bawdy house. She knew it would all depend on what sort of traffic there was through these hills now that the war was over. It would be good if a little life came back to the area.

  “There is that lake a short walk away,” said Matthew. “And fishing is good in the rivers and lakes. Maybe some folk would like that.”

  “It’s a thought. Not to worry. We will think of something.”

  Matthew nodded and they all talked of what was in the area, what grew, what the weather was like, and other ordinary things. Abigail excused herself and walked up the stairs until she came to the small table in the hall. There was the picture of Robert and Julia. The little painting had gone to the Collinses but she now feared they might not have gotten it.

  “Oh, she was very pretty. I can see what caught my Robert’s eye.”

  Startled by the woman’s approach, Abigail had to take a deep breath before turning to face Mrs. Collins. “I had the same man who did the picture of the babe do one of this but I guess you never got it.”

  “Or it came after we left. I will send a word to my neighbor and tell her to keep a watch for it. May I?” She nodded toward the picture.

  “Of course.”

  “I think John would like to see it. We talked often after we got your letter but could never decide what sort of girl the boy would have married.”

  Abigail followed the woman back down the stairs and paused when the woman suddenly stopped at the bottom and turned to her. “We really have not come to take the child away from you. His mother chose you and we honor that. But I can see my Robert in him and I just want to be a part of his life.”

  “Of course. I can understand that. He is too young to grasp what this all means but he is growing fast.”

  “They always do.”

  By the time the Collins family left, Abigail was exhausted. She knew it was mostly from fighting the fear that they would decide to argue over the boy. Meeting such a pleasant woman and knowing she had lost all her sons had been hard as well. There was a part of Abigail that thought she ought to let them have the child but she ignored it with an ease that bothered her.

  “They were a very pleasant family,” said Matthew when they got ready for bed that night.

  “They were but, oh, Matthew, she lost all her sons.”

  “I ken it.” He crawled into bed and took her into his arms. “I dinnae want to even try and ken how that must feel, but it is something so many have suffered so many times over the centuries.”

  She sighed and rested her cheek on his chest. “I know, but that doesn’t really make it any less sad.”

  “They are not going to demand the baby, are they?”

  “No. She said I was the mother’s choice and they honor that but want to be known to the child. I found myself wishing Jeremiah was older, a little more aware of who and what they were. I can understand why they are all together. Such a loss would be enough to pull them together.”

  “We were verra lucky.”

  “I think we were and so was your family.”

  “Weel, some think poorly of us because we didnae want to choose sides, didnae want anything to do with it.”

  “Smart.”

  “But nay verra wise. But it is done so things should calm down.”

  “I hope so.” She covered her mouth when she yawned. “Tired, and I didn’t even get to plant the lavender seeds.”

  “Tomorrow. Get some sleep. It has been a hard day.”

  “It made me think.”

  “Mmmm. Of what?”

  “Of the importance of making sure you have made it clear what you want done with your children if something happens to you.”

  “We can sort that out in the morning.”

  She could tell he was close to going to sleep. “Unless we die in our sleep.” She felt him jerk with surprise then squeaked when he slapped her on the backside. “Wretch.”

  * * *

  In the morning, Abigail woke with a need to rush into the washroom. She was heartily sick. By the time she cleaned up and went downstairs, the kitchen showed signs that Matthew had already fed the boys. It puzzled her
that she was so tired, but she had been a lot lately.

  Once she had eaten some toasted bread and had a cup of coffee she was feeling better so went out to plant her lavender seeds. When they grew, she would be sure to send Maude a picture even if she had to draw it herself. She stood up then staggered to the house and braced herself against it until the spinning in her head went away.

  Once her head cleared she thought over the morning and tensed. Carefully she tried to recall when she had had her last woman’s time and felt her heart beat faster. She grabbed the bonnet Matthew still frowned at and started walking toward the big house, as they had begun to call it. She was almost certain she was with child but wanted to hear another woman give her opinion.

  Finding Matthew and the boys there made it a little awkward to have a moment or two alone with the women, but she finally got Emily and Mrs. O’Neal cornered in the kitchen. They both stared at her expectantly as they sat around the table. Abigail suddenly had no idea how to start the conversation.

  “Spit it out, child,” said Mrs. O’Neal.

  “I think I might be with child.”

  “All the signs are there?”

  “Yes, no bleeding times, sick this morning, had to eat plain toasted bread this morning, and nearly fainted in the garden.”

  “Certainly sounds like it. Have you told Matthew?”

  “No, I needed to be sure. I know he wanted a child but he never, well, pestered for one.”

  “Well, tell him carefully. Even men who really want a child can get a little crazy when their woman says one is on its way.”

  Abigail kept that in mind as she went back home, linked arm in arm with Matthew as the two boys skipped along beside them. The puppy flopped on the grass the moment they reached the front yard of the house. Abbie felt sick as she realized how warm she was. She let go of Matthew and raced for the washroom.