“I don’t know what we would do without Robert. He stepped in after the accident and took over for Papa as if he were born to the job.” Rachel had a dreamy quality in her voice that Abigail had never heard before.
“Yes, he’s very efficient, I’m sure.”
“Abigail, Robert asked me to go with him to a concert and dinner this coming weekend. Will you be all right alone if I go?”
Abigail’s eyes widened. She’d never expected Rachel to find someone special the way she continually hovered over her as if she couldn’t take care of herself. Rachel never went out socially, especially not with men, although several had tried to attract her attention. Surely, Robert wanted more than a business relationship if he were asking Rachel to go to a concert and dinner with him.
Abigail allowed her imagination to wander. What would her life be like if Rachel married? Would Robert move into the house with them, or would Rachel move away, leaving Abigail alone? The idea both frightened and excited her.
Now she smiled. “Is Robert handsome?”
“What?” Rachel’s spoon clattered to her plate. “Why would you ask such a question?”
Abigail laughed. “Because of the way your voice sounds tonight and because I’ve never seen him.”
Rachel shoved her chair back and stood. “Well, of all the things to come up with, Abigail. I suppose Robert is handsome. Each person has their own ideas of such things, of course.”
“What of Mary Ella and her father? What do they look like?”
“That reminds me.” Rachel deposited the dishes she had gathered on the counter. “I am appalled at your behavior, Abigail. Letting that little girl come over here and stay for hours when her father specifically told you to send her home. I told you the same thing.”
“Rachel.” Abigail spoke as soon as her sister paused for breath. “First, before you scold me, can you answer my question? What do they look like? One of my customers called Mary Ella a cute little girl. Is she?”
“Yes, she’s pretty enough. And her father is handsome in a rugged sort of way. They both have dark eyes, brown, I guess. His hair is also dark, while the little girl has sort of dark blond hair.”
Abigail tried to visualize Mary Ella and her father from Rachel’s brief description. She’d already known Mary Ella had blond hair and brown eyes, but she especially wanted to know about Mr. Warren. Not that it mattered. Regardless of Mary Ella and her father’s appearance, she would look forward to their visit the next evening.
“I can’t believe you let that little urchin take a mug of chocolate, of all things, into the sitting room. She could have knocked it over, maybe broken the mug. Then what would you have done?”
“Mrs. Marshall was here.” Abigail tried to defend herself.
“Yes, and I’m sure she would love to clean up a mess and maybe bind your cut hand, too.”
“But, she didn’t spill her drink.”
“That’s not the point. Mr. Warren was very angry and with good reason.”
“But, he isn’t angry now.”
“No, I noticed that.” Rachel poured water into the dishpan. “His little girl smiled up at him and got her way. Not only that, but now he’s coming, too.”
Abigail heard the censure in her sister’s voice. “I don’t know why you are so set against her spending some time with me. It isn’t as if I have anything else to do.”
“Then I’ll tell you why. In the first place there’s something wrong with that little girl.”
“Her name is Mary Ella, and there’s nothing wrong with her.”
“Then why is she allowed to run all over the neighborhood? Why isn't she in school like normal children?”
“Their housekeeper doesn’t watch her well enough, and her father has kept her out of school because he’s afraid she’ll be hurt.” Abigail spoke in a rush, knowing the truth wouldn’t convince Rachel that Mary Ella was a normal child.
“What?” She heard Rachel turn toward her.
“I said their housekeeper—”
“I know what you said. What I don’t know is why Mr. Warren doesn’t get a new housekeeper or better yet, send that child to school where she should be.”
“I told you, he’s afraid she’ll get hurt.”
“That doesn’t make sense. She could get hurt running all over and crossing the street.” Rachel began gathering dirty dishes from the table.
“Which I assume is why he will be bringing her to visit tomorrow.” Abigail stood and lifted her plate and silverware, carrying it to the sink.
“He must be as strange as his daughter.”
“He’s very protective of her. He surely has some reason.”
Rachel’s breath rushed out as if she were annoyed. “Abigail, did you know that Mr. Warren works for us?”
“No, but I don’t see what difference that makes.” There were times when Rachel’s train of thought seemed to run right past Abigail without stopping.
Rachel gave a short laugh. “Of course, you wouldn’t. Don’t you see, Abigail? He’s a common laborer. I saw you blush when you talked to him. I stood in the dining room watching. I also saw the way he looked at you.”
Abigail felt her breath catch in her chest. “What are you saying? How did he look at me?”
“Oh, come now, Abigail. I know you live a sheltered life, but surely it isn’t as bad as all that.”
Abigail couldn’t respond. She stood between the dry sink and the table as if frozen.
Rachel let out a huff of air. “He gave in, dear sister, because he saw a beautiful woman who was being kind to his daughter. He’s looking for a mother for his child. And, you, of all people, are not mother material.”
Abigail scarcely heard her sister’s cutting words. Had she said Mr. Warren saw her as beautiful? She couldn’t be right, could she? Abigail wished she could see. Then she would have noticed his expression, maybe read some meaning into it or been able to see into the depths of his eyes when he looked at her.
Years ago she had longed for a family of her own. Someone to love her just the way she was. But as the years passed, she’d given up those foolish wishes and accepted her blindness and her solitude as God’s will for her life. Now she thought of Mary Ella and Mr. Warren and knew that wasn’t true. She hadn’t given up those longings at all.
“You have to keep everything in place so you can find your way.” Her sister’s voice penetrated her thoughts. “Children make messes that you could easily fall over. Abigail, you could get hurt and probably will if you continue to allow that child to come over here.”
“Hurt?” Abigail tried to focus on her sister’s words.
“Yes, hurt. Have you heard anything I’ve said?” Rachel attacked the dishes in the pan with a swish and a clatter that indicated her annoyance. “Oh well, I don’t suppose it matters. As soon as Mr. Warren figures out you’re blind, he’ll take his little girl and run as far away as he can.”
Chapter 4
Rachel’s warning pounded through Abigail’s mind the next few days. He’ll take his little girl and run as far away as he can. When he finds out you’re blind, he’ll take Mary Ella away
When Mary Ella didn’t return right away, Abigail began to believe her sister, so her heart responded with a leap when she heard footsteps cross the porch before the knock came. She prayed for courage, as she went to the door.
“Miss Stevens, Papa brought me across the street, and we didn’t get hurt.”
Abigail laughed, and her worry fled. “I can see that.”
She looked up above Mary Ella’s head as warmth crept up her neck. Maybe she shouldn’t have said she could see. But she hadn’t intended to lie, only to use a figure of speech.
“Mary Ella, I expect you to behave yourself.” Mr. Warren’s deep voice set her pulse dancing. “Miss Stevens, thank you for allowing this little pest to invade your home again. She talks about you and the things you’ve done constantly.”
“Oh, my.” Abigail covered her mouth with her fingertips and lowered her las
hes. Her mind suddenly went blank.
He laughed. “Nothing bad, I assure you. Mary Ella, I’ll be back in about an hour. Be good.”
“I will, Papa.” Mary Ella squeezed past Abigail. “Bye, Papa.”
“Bye.” Abigail heard him chuckling as he walked away. She closed the door and turned to face Mary Ella. He hadn’t run yet, and she intended to enjoy her visit with his child. “How would you like to make cookies?”
“For really and truly?” Mary Ella clapped her hands. “Mrs. Marshall said she’d have to show me ’cause you don’t know how.”
Abigail laughed. “Oh, don’t be so sure. It’s true I’m not much of a cook, but I do a great job of stirring. Come on, I think Mrs. Marshall has the ingredients set out for sugar cookies. How’s that sound”
“Yum.” Mary Ella created a slight breeze as she hurried past.
Abigail followed at a more sedate pace. Mary Ella already had the housekeeper cornered with her chatter. Mrs. Marshall measured the ingredients while Mary Ella and Abigail stirred.
“Mary Ella, you may spoon the batter onto the cookie sheet if you’re careful.” Mrs. Marshall seemed to enjoy the little girl as much as Abigail did.
They each sampled the first batch of cookies. Finally, Mrs. Marshall pulled the last sheet from the oven when the front door opened and closed. Seconds later, Rachel walked into the kitchen.
Abigail held her breath, waiting for her sister to demand that Mary Ella leave. After a few moments of strained silence, she spoke. “Didn’t Mr. Warren stay?”
“No, he said he’d come back for Mary Ella.”
“Hmm. That’s fine then.” Rachel’s tone gave nothing away.
Sometimes Abigail wished blindness gave her the ability to read minds since she couldn’t read expressions. What did Rachel mean? The same thing Abigail thought? That Mr. Warren had no more interest in Abigail than he might have in Mrs. Marshall, a woman old enough to be his mother. She huffed. How foolish of her to allow such a thought to travel through her head. Of course, he didn’t. Why would he?
~*~
Abigail sat in her rocker reliving Mary Ella’s recent visits. She smiled just thinking about what Mr. Warren had said last week when a cold north wind swept up on the porch.
“I’m getting as bad as Mary Ella. Standing here letting the cold in while I keep you talking.” She heard the smile in his voice. “I apologize, Miss Stevens. Next time I’ll accept your kind invitation to step inside, since I can’t seem to resist your company any more than my daughter can.”
She laughed and wondered at his words. Surely he couldn’t enjoy her company as much as she enjoyed his. “I will take you up on that, Mr. Warren.”
That had been two visits and almost a week ago although she felt as if she’d known him and his daughter for so much longer. Although he’d stepped inside and closed the door, he hadn’t stayed long either time. Maybe it was for the best.
Somehow she’d managed to hide her blindness from Seth and Mary Ella, but she knew one day they would realize there was something different about the lady with the flowers.
Abigail listened for the familiar steps outside while she pushed her fears aside. She didn’t want to think of what would happen when Mr. Warren discovered the truth. Mary Ella became more important to her every day.
A knock at the door startled her. She’d been so wrapped up in thinking of her insecurities, she hadn’t heard anyone step on the porch. Mary Ella’s muffled voice outside carried an excited lilt.
She opened the door and stepped back. “Please, come inside.”
Mary Ella bounced in, talking as she came. “Miss Stevens, Papa said we can look at your flowers.”
“Whoa.” Mr. Warren laughed. “Maybe we should ask nicely before you say what we’re going to do.”
“Okay, Papa.” A swish of skirts and the thud of a book let Abigail know Mary Ella was sitting on the floor by her old books.
She turned her attention back to Seth—Mr. Warren. “Would you like to see my flowers?”
“I apologize for my daughter. She has been begging to show me your greenhouse and all the pretty flowers she enjoys. I told her I would ask, but if it is an imposition…”
“Of course it’s no imposition. I’d be glad to show them to you. Why not right now?”
As soon as the words left her mouth, she wished them back. She wasn’t ready to spend time with Seth. Talking to him. Showing him the flowers she loved. What if she did something and he recognized her blindness? She turned her face away so he couldn’t see her indecision.
“Yes, Papa, now.” Mary Ella rushed to them.
“Hold on, Mary Ella. Is there a problem, Miss Stevens?” He’d seen. She should have turned away sooner.
She shook her head. “No, of course not. Why don’t we go through the house to the connecting door?" As Abigail brushed her fingers over the furniture and moved toward the greenhouse, her mind remained centered on Seth.
She hit the corner of the dining table against her hip. “Ow.” She stopped and grabbed the smooth wood with her hand.
“Miss Stevens, are you all right?” Seth’s hand touched her arm.
“Yes, of course I am.” Maybe her lighthearted laughter would deter him. She had to keep her mind on navigating through the familiar course. “I’m just clumsy, I guess. That’s what I get for not watching where I’m going.”
“It happens to the best of us.” Seth’s voice held a smile and something else. Uncertainty, maybe. Did he suspect anything?
Abigail let her hand trail off the table, as she turned back toward the door leading to her greenhouse. She held her hand out to touch the door, but Seth reached around her and pushed it open. He didn’t touch her, yet she felt his presence, his warmth, his closeness. Her heart raced, and she tripped over the sill. Seth’s hand closed around her arm, keeping her from falling.
“Miss Stevens, I apologize if I caused you to stumble.”
His hand burned through the fabric of her dress. What was wrong with her? Why couldn’t she get her mind off Mr. Warren and back where it belonged? On showing off her flowers. Next, she’d fall flat on her face. Where had Mary Ella gone? Trailing behind her father, maybe? She had never felt so disoriented.
“No, my clumsiness is not your fault. I don’t know what’s wrong with me today. I assure you, I do not usually bump into things and trip over my feet. The apologies are all mine.”
“No apology necessary.” Seth laughed. “I could tell you a few stories of my own clumsiness, but I don’t want to bore you or embarrass myself.”
Abigail laughed with him but wanted to cry. She had to get her emotions under control before she hurt herself. How easily she could give everything away and lose all she’d ever wanted. The truth hit her with enough force to stagger her. A family and home of her own was what she wanted. Seth and Mary Ella. The very thing she couldn’t have. She took three steps into the greenhouse and stopped. Had she gone straight in or to the left when she’d turned toward Seth? A dark confusing void covered the first table, hiding it from her. Without that anchor, she had no sense of direction, especially with Seth standing so close, watching her every step.
She took a deep breath and concentrated on her surroundings. Her heart pounded. How could she have gotten lost in her own greenhouse? Lord, please help me.
With a deep breath and a smile in what she hoped was the right direction, she said, “Mary Ella, why don’t you show your father the pretty poinsettias that are soaking up the south sun?”
“Okay.” Mary Ella moved closer. “Come on, Papa, I really like the poinsettias. Miss Abigail says they’re Christmas flowers. Christmas isn’t very far away, is it?”
“Not too far.”
Listening to their voices as they moved away, Abigail took a few tentative steps with her hand outstretched until she felt something solid. As soon as her fingers touched the rough wood of the table, she breathed a sigh of relief. Thank you, Lord. She walked toward Mary Ella’s voice, once more in control.
She stepped near the Poinsettias where Seth and Mary Ella stood. “These Christmas flowers will soon need to be placed in the dark room, so they can bloom.”
“I thought flowers need sunshine to bloom.” Seth’s deep voice drew Abigail like pollen attracts bees.
She nodded. “Yes, with most flowers that’s true. Poinsettias are special, though. They require a time of total darkness to bring out their hidden beauty. Of course, even during that time, they need to soak up the sun during the day. I’ve always thought of the poinsettia’s time in the dark as being like those times when we must go through the darkness of life to appreciate the light of God’s goodness.”
“I suppose.” Seth cleared his throat. “Mary Ella, didn’t you want to show me some mums?”
Seth was strangely silent as Mary Ella took him around the rest of the greenhouse, chattering the entire time. Abigail kept her distance, letting Mary Ella show the flowers to her father. Had he noticed her strange behavior? If so, he might not let Mary Ella return. His low voice and his daughter’s higher pitch, as they moved along the rows of tables, drew Abigail. Only she couldn’t join them. She walked along the tables closest to the door and waited until they reached her.
“That was interesting.”
Abigail turned to face Seth and gave him her best smile. “I’m glad you think so. I enjoy my flowers.”
“I can see why. They are beautiful.” Seth cleared his throat. “Well, we need to be going. Thank you for letting us see your greenhouse.”
“You’re welcome.” Abigail turned toward the slight sound near Seth. “Bye, Mary Ella. I’m glad you and your father came to visit today. Please, come again soon.”
“Oh, we will.” Mary Ella’s soft giggle warmed Abigail’s heart.
She walked to the door with them and listened for the click as it shut. Abigail sucked in air and let it out slowly. Would she ever see Mary Ella again? A harsh laugh tore from her throat. She’d ruined everything. Rachel was right. She had no business trying to act like a sighted woman. She turned and made her way to the table where she kept her supplies and picked up the watering can. She moved from one task to another, but although her hands remained busy, her mind strayed across the street toward Seth and Mary Ella. She was still tending her flowers when the front door slammed. Rachel was home.
Lesson of the Poinsettia Page 3