by Janet Dean
With one last glance at Lois, Abigail stormed out the door, slamming it behind her.
What could she do to help her sister? She had a pittance in the bank. Another job, even a second or third job, couldn’t solve this.
She’d never felt more helpless.
And more like a fool.
Why had she let down her guard with Wade?
Chapter Eighteen
The glass in the office door rattled in the pane, the vibration jarring. Hurting Abby had ripped a hole in Wade’s heart. A hole only she could fill. By calling the Lessman loan, he’d lost his chance with Abby. She’d never forgive him now.
From the condemnation he’d seen on her face, she didn’t believe he’d had no choice. The survival of the bank had to come before his personal life. No matter what Abby believed, his motive wasn’t greed.
Wade met Lois’s troubled eyes. “I’m sorry.”
“I know you didn’t call the loan out of spite. Give Abby time to calm down. When she does, she’ll know it too.”
He plowed a hand through his hair. “She doesn’t trust me. Her distrust goes beyond the feud.”
“I know.” Lois’s eyes narrowed. “I’ve always wondered why you ended the relationship.”
He dropped his gaze and shrugged.
“You’re hiding something.”
Nothing could make him tell her.
“One thing I’ve learned through the nightmare with Joe—as ugly as the truth may be, we have to look facts square in the face. Look ourselves square in the face. When we do, with God’s help, we can overcome the mess we’ve made of things.”
Wade slumped onto the corner of the desk. “Please tell Joe I explored every alternative.” He swallowed hard. “But even if I could have brought more money into the bank, a bank examiner would see a delinquent loan as a red flag.”
“Loans have brought about the Wilson downfall. I’ll be glad to have this one paid.” She gave a wobbly smile. “Don’t look so grim. God will work this out.” With that encouragement, she gave him a hug then walked out the office door.
With everything in him, he prayed God would do what he couldn’t and somehow bring good from this mess. He couldn’t imagine his life without Abby. The shop, his plans, nothing mattered if he couldn’t share them with her.
Oh, Lord, comfort Abby. Help her to trust me, to trust You.
Even if she never spoke to him again, even if he couldn’t have her in his life, he wanted her happiness.
An idea latched onto his mind. One thing he could do. He hoped he wasn’t too late.
Heels clicking, Abigail marched through the bank lobby, looking neither right nor left, yet sensing Leon watching her. If she looked his way, he’d see the anger, the pain in her eyes.
Once again Wade had proved he didn’t have a heart. Why had she thought otherwise? He was a Cummings after all.
The outside door swung closed behind her. With no plan except escape, she raised her umbrella against the driving rain and stumbled along, sloshing through puddles. At the alley leading to their apartment she hesitated. She couldn’t go home. Couldn’t face her family’s unspoken but nonetheless real, I told you so.
Nor could she talk to Rachel. Rachel would urge her to give Wade another chance. She didn’t have another chance in her.
Even Elizabeth, a woman with many solutions, didn’t have an answer for this. Abby had never felt more alone.
Without considering her destination, her feet took her to the park. Inside the shelter of the gazebo, hidden by a curtain of rain, she dropped onto a bench, then hunched forward, shivering.
By now Lois would be home, telling Joe they’d have to sell the house. Visualizing his face, Ma’s, the boys’, she moaned.
Only moments before she’d been excited about the future. With the feud behind them she and Wade might have found a way to build a life together. That hope had blown up in her face.
Why had she trusted him?
She straightened. She’d survive. She’d teach, work in the community and at church and spend her time with friends and her family. She needed nothing more.
No one else.
Not even a man with indigo eyes.
As the rain continued to fall, she shed no tears. A stone did not weep.
With his every step spraying water, Wade slugged home, rain sluicing off the brim of his hat. The temperature had dropped twenty degrees, matching his dismal mood.
He hoped Abby wasn’t walking around in this weather, but he suspected she was. She didn’t have a carriage house or shop to hole up in as he did. The crowded apartment provided not one iota of privacy or comfort. Comfort he’d like to give her but knew she wasn’t ready to accept.
His only hope of bringing Abby and the Wilsons happiness, of making up for what the Cummingses had taken from them rested with Wade’s father. A few weeks ago he wouldn’t have given his errand a chance but George had softened. With the incentive Wade would offer, his father, a savvy businessman, just might agree.
Not wanting to track through the house with wet feet, Wade entered through the kitchen door. The aroma of corn bread and stew greeted him. An orderly house, a well-cooked meal—he appreciated what Abby had done, what Cora did now to make the Cummingses’ house a home.
Her salt-and-pepper tresses twisted into a bun at her nape, Cora stood at the stove, an anchor in the storm, or so he saw her. How many times had she comforted him as a boy? Did she even know what she meant to him?
She looked over at him and smiled. “Supper won’t be long.”
Though he had no appetite, he could pretend. He moved to the stove and glanced at the bubbling stew. “My favorite.”
“Appropriate for a day like this.”
A day of damage he would undo. “Do you know where Dad is?”
“In the library. I just told him ten minutes till supper.”
“Can you hold off a few minutes?”
Nodding, she studied him. “Is everything all right?”
The last time Wade could remember everything feeling right was five years ago, when he’d first given his heart to Abby. “No, but I hope to…make things better.”
“Sounds serious. I’ll pray for you. You and the mister.”
“Thanks.” Abby had taught him to express his feelings, to stand up for himself. From now on he’d share what was in his heart. “I hope you know you’re family, my second mom.”
Tears sprang to Cora’s eyes. She laid a gentle palm on his cheek. He’d never known Cora to be at a loss for words, but she’d lost hers now.
He gave her a peck on the cheek. “Thanks for the prayers. Those prayers helped Dad and me to forgive each other.”
Cora’s eyes twinkled. “I knew God could knock some sense into George’s hard head. He used Abigail Wilson to do it.”
“God knocked some sense into me too.”
Abby had shown him that someone had to take the first step. Someone had to stop running and do what they could to make things right. He headed toward his father’s library, praying for wisdom, for strength. If his father agreed to his proposition, he’d rectify the damage the Cummingses had done to the Wilsons.
George sat at his desk, fiddling with his pipe, cold, unlit. He glanced up and studied him. “You don’t look too good.”
“I just called the Lessman loan.”
With a grimace, his father set aside the pipe. “Not easy doing the hard thing.”
“No, sir, it’s not. Having to call that loan was one of the hardest things I’ve ever had to do.” Hurting Abby all those years ago was worse.
Wade took the chair across from his father and met his gentle gaze. Verification of how much his father had changed and giving him hope George would accept his offer.
“Dad, I’m asking you to return the Wilson farm to their family.”
His father’s jaw dropped. “What? I—”
“Hear me out. The Lessmans are losing their home in order to pay back the delinquent loan. I’ve been in the shabby apartment over the
bank, barely adequate for Abigail and her mother, much less the Lessman brood. If we return the land and farmhouse, we’ll restore Joe’s livelihood, the family’s roots, and give them a good place to live.”
“You’re asking me to give the Wilsons the farm? Because they have needs? If that policy guided me, I’d be providing for half the people in this town.”
Wade shook his head. “I’m asking you to restore what we took from them.”
“Calling that loan was aboveboard.”
“Once you knew the railroad’s interest in the Wilson land, and kept that information to yourself, you crossed a line.” Wade waved a finger. “If you’d waited a month or so to call the loan, the Wilsons could’ve sold that partial to the railroad, giving Frank the money to repay what he’d borrowed.” He leaned toward his father. “Face the truth. We owe them.”
“If waiting another month had been an option, then why didn’t you give the Lessmans more time?” He released a gust. “I’ll tell you why. Conditions at the bank demanded action. Now.”
“I’ll give you that, but once the railroad deal was finalized, you could’ve returned what remained of their farm.”
George picked up his pipe. “Returning the farm makes as much sense as putting this unlit pipe in my mouth. We can’t restore assets to everyone who’s made bad decisions. Besides, Frank would’ve risked that farm in another foolish venture.”
“What he would’ve done isn’t the point. The point is what you should’ve done.”
George’s nostrils flared. “Money is tight. Income from that farm helps us meet expenses.” He sighed. “Truth is my lungs haven’t yet healed. With your plan to open a shop,” his father said, stumbling over the words, “I’ve got to hire someone to replace you and perhaps even myself. Giving the Wilsons that farm will add to my concerns about money.”
Wade looked his father in the eye. “I have an offer that will handle your concerns. An offer you won’t want to refuse.”
“What’s that?”
“Give the Wilsons their farm and I’ll continue filling your shoes for as long as you need me.”
“You’d give up your dream?” He blinked. “The only reason you’d do that…” His eyes softened. “You love her. You love Abigail.”
More than life itself. “Yes. Without Abby, all my plans, the shop, none of it matters.”
George rose and walked to the globe, spinning the orb, watching it swirl round and round. “I wish I’d seen that years ago, before I lost Ernestine.”
Wade walked to his father. Put an arm around his shoulders. “Dad, it may be too late for Abby and me. But whatever happens between us, giving the Wilsons the farm will please God and show this town and the Wilsons that the Cummings name stands for integrity.”
Fierce eyes turned on Wade. By questioning his father’s integrity, had he destroyed the possibility that he’d accept the offer?
“Will you do the right thing?” Wade asked.
“I’ll think about it. That’s all I’m promising.”
Three days passed, one rainy, bleak day after another. Abigail filled those days scrubbing the woodwork and walls, washing the windows, preparing family meals. Each night she fell into bed limp with exhaustion, but inside she was frozen hard. A person she didn’t like but didn’t know how to change.
That afternoon Wade had come to the house, wanting to talk. She’d refused, asking her mother to pass along the message. Ma had shot her a penetrating look, but complied.
Why had Abigail believed, even for a moment, that she and Wade could find happiness? They came from different worlds. The Cummingses’ wealth enabled him to live in a cocoon. He didn’t understand the average person’s struggles. Didn’t grasp the hardship, the pain he’d brought her family.
Now crowded around the table in a sparkling kitchen for a supper of beans and corn bread, Joe thanked God for the meal and for their blessings. Blessings in short supply.
Aghast at her lack of gratitude, Abigail begged God for forgiveness. They were healthy. They had food on the table and clothes on their backs. All blessings she appreciated. She just couldn’t seem to overcome this crushing sense of sadness.
As she picked at her food, across from her Joe and Lois ate with abandon, gazing into one another’s eyes, laughing and talking like newlyweds. Her nephews imitated their parents’ good mood, giggling and chattering like magpies. The little guys didn’t comprehend they’d lost their home. But how could Lois and Joe be this carefree?
Once they finished eating Joe gave his sons permission to leave the table. They scampered off like frolicking puppies.
Joe turned to Abigail, then Ma. “Lois and I’ve been saving our news until we could talk in peace. The Johnsons bought our house this afternoon, a wedding present for their daughter and her future husband.”
“Stay here as long as you need,” Ma said.
A sick feeling in her stomach, Abigail stared at her hands knotted in her lap. She’d prayed and prayed for God to step in and save their house. Now the house was sold. Gone. Too late for a miracle.
“The Johnsons gave us our asking price. Joe and I paid off the loan at the bank this afternoon,” Lois said, then looked at Abigail. “Wade asked about you.”
Abigail dug her nails into her palms. Why couldn’t she be indifferent to him?
“The best part—Joe took the remaining money and paid off his gambling debts,” Lois said. “Thank You, God, for freeing us from that burden.”
“That’s mighty good news.” Ma glanced at Abigail, arching a brow, obviously wanting her to congratulate them.
But no words would come.
“The door to that ugliness is closed.” Tears flooded Joe’s eyes. “I can hold my head up in this town.”
Lois handed Billy to Joe. “Your son is proud of his papa.”
As Joe took the baby in his arms, Billy burped, loud. “Your pa is proud of his son,” Joe said.
Ma and Lois chuckled.
“I rented a rig and drove out to the Harper farm. Got some work lined up. In a few weeks, I’ll earn enough to rent a place of our own.” He bent and kissed Billy’s forehead. “I’m blessed with a wonderful wife and five healthy sons. What more could a man want?” He looked from Ma to Abigail and sobered. “I can never thank you enough for taking us in.”
“We’re family. You’d do the same for us,” Ma said.
“I would. I’ll always be there for you and Ab.” A screech brought Joe to his feet. “I’d better check on those little wild men before they tear up the place.” He carried Billy into the parlor. “Quit bouncing on that sofa, Donald William.”
The women rose to clean up from the meal. “Ab, you’ve done nothing but work around here. I’ll help Ma with the dishes.”
“Thanks, I think I’ll take a walk.”
“In this weather?” Ma said, glancing out the window.
Lois grinned. “A little rain would probably seem downright peaceful after listening to my rowdy boys.”
The idea of being alone to think things through had Abigail grabbing her umbrella. Outside she set off down the alley to Main. As she ambled through town she passed the freshly painted row of houses. Crisp curtains hung at the windows. Petunias bloomed in window boxes. Barefooted children splashed in mud puddles.
Except for one house.
Her nephews had no yard. No bedroom of their own. No friends nearby.
Unable to abide the reminder, Abigail turned away from the sold sign in the window of what should’ve been Joe and Lois’s house and moved on.
At the corner of Main and First Street, New Harmony First Christian beckoned. She’d attended the church all her life. Here she’d find a quiet place to think and pray.
She entered the sanctuary, closing the heavy door, muffling the sound of thunder rumbling in the distance, as if God wouldn’t permit distraction in His house of worship. She sagged onto a pew in the last row.
Why had Lois been composed at losing their house, while Abigail couldn’t accept the loss, could
n’t see the good that had come from it? She carried an anger and emptiness that scared her. Was she becoming her father?
God felt far away. Did He hear her prayers?
She bowed her head.
“Miss Abigail.”
Her eyes flew open. “Cecil. I didn’t see you.”
“Reckon you wouldn’t.” Without an invitation he sat down beside her with a soft groan. “I was up front and on my knees thanking God for a problem.”
Had she heard him right? “You’ve what?”
“My rheumatism is acting up again. I call it rheumatisn’t. ’Cause it isn’t gonna get me down.”
She glanced at his gnarled hands, folded gingerly in his lap. “You thanked God for your pain?”
“Don’t come natural to thank God for my troubles, but I’m learning He’ll give me a big ole blessing if I do.”
“You still have your rheumatism.”
“Rheumatisn’t,” he corrected, then rubbed the pad of a thumb over the base of the other. “God don’t promise to take my thorn away, no more than He done for the Apostle Paul. But God sees me through. Stopping in here on days when the pain kicks up, like here lately with all this rain, keeps my eyes on Him and off the hurt.” He smiled. “Reckon iffen every day was sunny and free of pain, I ’spect I’d think I didn’t need Him.”
Cecil’s faith in God’s provision brought tears to her eyes. Her faith wasn’t strong like his.
He studied her with his tender gaze. “Iffen you got troubles, Miss Abigail, you’re in the right place. Thank the Good Lord for ’em. Then let Him work ’em out as He sees fit. You and me, we’re His sheep.” He chuckled. “Ain’t the smartest critters, but sheep know the Shepherd’s voice and trust He’ll lead ’em to safe pastures.” He patted her hand. “Reckon they ain’t so dumb after all.”
Lord, did You bring me here for just this moment?
“Thank you, Cecil, for saying what I need to hear.”
“Is that so?” A smile lit his kind face. “Well, better mosey on. Let you chat with the Almighty.” He lumbered to his feet, a slight groan on his lips.