Hopeful Hearts

by Diann Hunt

  “All right, he’s handsome, but I’m not ready for another relationship, Sophia. Really.”

  Sophia studied her a moment. “You will be one day. I hope Titus is still around.” She pulled herself up from her knees and walked through the door, but her words lingered in the room with Abigail.

  When the women walked into the room, Abigail overheard Titus talking to Clayton about his dream of becoming a doctor. Her heart ached as she heard the longing in his voice. Dreams obliterated. She wished there was something she could do to help him get back to medical school. His mother had her hands full taking care of Jenny. He was their sole provider. How could he possibly come up with money or time for medical school?

  Titus turned to see her looking at him. He stopped talking. Clayton seemed to notice the awkward moment. “How’s the soup coming, Sophia? This man is hungry,” he said with a laugh.

  “It’s almost ready.”

  Abigail placed the dishes on the table, and soon they gathered around for prayer and eating. Sophia scooped ample portions of steaming stew into hefty bowls. The sight of the stew, thick with vegetables, made Abigail’s stomach growl. She could hardly wait to eat. Sophia’s mother had taught her daughter well in the art of cooking.

  By the time lunch was over and the afternoon spent, the snow had subsided. Abigail and Titus said their good-byes to Sophia and Clayton and headed home just before dusk.

  “Thank you, Titus, for coming along. I hope it didn’t make you uncomfortable to be paired with me today.” Feeling her words were too forward, Abigail almost wished she hadn’t spoken them.

  He looked at her and smiled. “I didn’t mind it at all. I had a wonderful time.” His eyes locked with hers long enough to make her heart skip. She pulled her gaze away, not daring to dwell on what was happening between them.

  They traveled the way home in comfortable silence. Abigail found herself wishing Titus didn’t have to leave. When he drew the buckboard in front of her home, he turned to her. He looked like he wanted to say something. He leaned in, and she lost her breath, feeling quite sure he was about to kiss her, but before she could react, he pulled away and jumped out of the buckboard. He came over to her side and helped her out, walking her to the door. “Good night, Abigail,” he said without looking.

  Befuddled, she watched as he quickly boarded his wagon and headed home.

  She watched him leave. “What was that all about?” The wind lifted her words into the night air, but the question remained on her heart.

  Chapter 8

  Wednesday morning, Titus stood in the drawing room of the O’Connor home, circling his hat between his fingers. “Sorry to keep you waiting, Titus,” Abigail said, lifting her bag. An abundance of volunteers at Barnabas House had left her with fewer hours to work. She hadn’t talked to Titus since their afternoon at Clayton and Sophia’s on Sunday. She felt a little nervous talking to him since their last meeting, wondering what was going on inside of him. Without saying a word, he shoved his hat on his head, and they turned to leave.

  Before they left the drawing room, a knock sounded. Barnabas barked and ran through the hallway, skidding to a halt at the front door.

  Mother’s footsteps sounded in the hallway. “I’ll get it.”

  While they waited a moment, Abigail felt anxious to fill the silence. “How have you been this week, Titus?”

  He lifted his gaze to her. “I’ve been fine. How about you?”

  “Good.” An awkward moment stretched between them. Titus looked like he wanted to say more. If only she could read him. He filled the gap with talk of the horses. Ignoring Barnabas’s warning barks of a stranger in the house, they slid into a comfortable discussion. So lost were they in conversation that when Mother entered the room, it took them completely by surprise.

  Abigail looked up to see an attractive, blond-haired woman, dressed in the latest fashions and colors, standing beside Mother. The woman tilted her chin and seemed to look Abigail over as if she were a bolt of cloth. It unnerved her a little.

  “Abigail, it’s been awhile since you’ve seen her, but this is your cousin Eliza.”

  Abigail felt her stomach plunge. Most likely a response brought on from years gone by. Let it go, Abigail, she told herself. Eliza walked over to Abigail, extending her hand. “Hello. You haven’t changed a bit,” she said with a sugary whine. “Same freckles and—” Eliza’s gaze ran over Abigail. “Well, everything.”

  Somehow Abigail felt the comment was meant to dig under her skin.

  It did.

  Eliza O’Connor. With the same personality as Abigail had remembered. “And I see you haven’t changed,” Abigail said, all the while noticing Eliza didn’t appear the sickly cousin that Uncle Edward had described in his letter. They shook hands rather awkwardly.

  Eliza turned to Titus and gave him a look that made Abigail blush. Before Mother could introduce them, Eliza stepped up to him. “And you are …?” she asked with obvious interest.

  Titus took a step back. “Um, Titus Matthews, ma’am,” he said, tipping his hat.

  A sly smile curved the corners of her mouth. “I like that name,” she said with unreserved boldness.

  Mother coughed, seemingly taken aback by Eliza’s behavior. “Titus is our friend and our chauffeur.”

  Eliza’s eyebrows rose as she seemed to consider this information; then she smiled again. “I’ll look forward to a pleasant carriage ride then,” she said, eyes twinkling.

  Abigail’s jaw dropped in astonishment, never before having seen such a lavish display of feminine daring.

  “Will you be staying at Barnabas House all day, Abigail?” Mother wanted to know.

  Abigail clamped her mouth shut, swallowed, then looked at her mother. “No, I won’t be working with the children today, so I’m going over long enough to help Christopher with a few things, and I’ll be back around eleven o’clock.”

  “Good,” Mother said. “I’ll plan on lunch around then.” She turned to Titus. “You’ll join us today, Titus, or do you have other plans?”

  He cleared his throat. “Um, I’m beholden to you, Mrs. O’Connor.”

  “Good. Lunch at eleven o’clock,” she said with a snap of her head. She turned to Eliza. “That will give you time to get settled in your room and freshen up, if you so desire.”

  Eliza turned to Titus. Her eyes never leaving his face, she responded, “I do so desire to freshen up. A lady must always look her best.” She threw a delicate smile his way then turned to Abigail. “Isn’t that right, Cousin?”

  Abigail’s cheeks flamed, no doubt giving Eliza the answer she sought. Eliza laughed and followed Mother to the stairway, leaving Abigail speechless.

  Arriving home from Barnabas House, Abigail pulled her wraps tighter around her neck, making her way from the barn to the house. The winter winds had picked up, biting into her face. She looked at the heavy clouds overhead, noting snow would most likely cover the ground by evening.

  Once inside, she pushed hard on the front door to shut out the cold. Barnabas yapped at her feet until she finally reached down and paid attention to him. “I’m sorry you didn’t get to go today. Maybe next time,” she said to the lovable hound as he scooted around so she could scratch every possible itch. Once she felt sure he was satisfied with the reassuring rubs and words of greeting, Abigail tugged at her scarf and headed toward her room. Before she could reach the stairs, her mother came through the drawing room and stepped into the hallway.

  “Abigail, glad you’re home, dear. I hate to do this, but before you take off your wraps, would you let Titus know that lunch is ready?”

  Abigail smiled. “Certainly.” Mother turned to go, and Abigail pushed her scarf back in place, bracing herself for the cold winds.

  Once at the barn, Abigail poked her head around the stall. “Titus?”

  He stepped from the shadows toward her. “Yeah?”

  “Oh,” Abigail said with a laugh, “you startled me. Mother wanted me to tell you lunch is ready.”


  “Thanks. I’ll be there in a second.”

  She nodded and walked away. Knowing Eliza would join them for lunch, Abigail couldn’t help wondering how Titus felt about her cousin.

  Titus put the hay in a corner and brushed the fragments from his hands. He wondered why the O’Connors allowed him to eat with them. After all, he was merely their servant. The idea burned him. Yet he couldn’t deny they had been very kind to him. Too kind. He didn’t like it. Constantly, he had to remind himself their goodness stemmed from a guilty conscience. Why else would they treat him like he was one of the family?

  With deliberate steps, he made his way toward the house. In a weak moment, he had to admit their kindness made his job all the more difficult. How could he burn with hate toward people who reached out to him? He mentally shook himself. All of a sudden, he found himself getting soft, and he didn’t like it. Weak. Next thing he knew, he’d be using God as a crutch.…

  Once inside the house, they gathered around the table, said the blessing, then passed the bowls. Titus tried to eat and get away from the table as soon as possible. Eliza stared at him most of the way through the meal, making him uncomfortable. He wasn’t used to pushy womenfolk. It troubled him. She wasn’t bad to look at, but something about her didn’t ring right with him. He glanced at Abigail. She pushed the food around on her plate, not talking much, not eating much. He wondered why.

  “Titus?” Mrs. O’Connor caught his attention.

  “Yes ma’am.”

  “We would like very much for you and your family to join us for Christmas.”

  He looked at her with a start. “I … uh, I …”

  She shook her head. “Now, we won’t take no for an answer. You have them here at about noon for Christmas dinner.” Mrs. O’Connor winked at him and continued with her meal. He looked at Abigail, who blushed beneath his stare. Then he glanced at Eliza, who seemed put out about something. Yet once she realized she had his attention, she smiled sweetly.

  Mrs. O’Connor started talking about how nice it was to have Eliza in their home. He looked at Eliza again. She rolled her eyes, as if totally bored with her aunt’s and Abigail’s company. Somehow he knew that didn’t include him. She made sure to throw plenty of other signals his way. The sooner he could get back to the stables, the better.

  Horses were much easier to contend with than women.

  After lunch, Abigail plopped on her bed. Barnabas jumped up and nudged her hand with his nose. She stroked him as she allowed her thoughts to wander. What had gotten into her? She saw the way Eliza looked at Titus. Surely he had noticed, too. What Abigail couldn’t understand was why that bothered her. So what if Eliza and Titus were attracted to one another? Why should Abigail care?

  Barnabas padded over the plump covers and finally curled into a ball at the foot of the bed. Abigail threw herself back on the bed and stared at the ceiling. True, she and Titus had become friends. After all, they were together every day, going on some errand or another. Perhaps she was being protective of him, knowing Eliza’s true character.

  She scolded herself. Maybe she didn’t know Eliza’s true character. Abigail didn’t want to jump to conclusions because of her cousin’s comments upon first meeting. It was quite possible Eliza was sincere in her remarks. Abigail couldn’t deny, though, the obvious sneer in Eliza’s voice. She was like a dog marking territory.

  A knock sounded on her bedroom door. Eliza’s voice called, “Abigail?”

  Abigail jumped up from the bed, stopped a moment at the looking glass and fussed with her hair, then walked over to the door and opened it.

  “Are we going to visit Gramma O’Connor this afternoon?”

  “Yes. I’ll just get my things.” Abigail turned to gather her bag. Eliza stepped into the room and looked around. “How quaint. My quilt print was much the same as yours before I got a more fashionable one. I always liked that old quilt, though,” she said, as if looking into years long gone.

  Abigail seethed. Of all the nerve! It wasn’t as if her bedroom furnishings were all that old. Besides, it didn’t matter. She liked them. Her chin lifted. She would not let Eliza’s meanness get to her.

  Eliza raised her gaze to meet Abigail’s. A knowing smirk played on her lips. Eliza would like nothing more than to get under Abigail’s skin. Not wanting to give Eliza the satisfaction, Abigail offered a smile before walking through the doorway. “We’d best be going.”

  Hearing Eliza’s dress swish along the floor in an effort to keep up made Abigail feel better. Her feet padded along at a stress-driven pace.

  “Titus will be taking us, right?” Eliza wanted to know.

  “Of course. He’s our chauffeur.”

  “And a mighty handsome one at that.” Eliza had caught up with her now and peered at Abigail.

  Abigail looked at her a moment and turned away.

  “Come on, surely you’ve noticed?” Eliza insisted.

  “Eliza, Titus Matthews’s physical appearance is of no concern to me.”

  “Oh? Then he’s fair game?” Her voice held a thin veil of challenge.

  “Well …” Abigail didn’t know what to say. Finally, she lifted her chin. “Yes. Yes, of course.”

  Eliza flashed a victory smile. “Good.”

  They stepped through the front doorway into the flutter of falling snow, though Abigail couldn’t help but feel they were heading into something much more ominous.

  Abigail and Eliza sipped on hot tea in Gramma’s front room. Gramma shared wonderful stories of their fathers’ childhood days, which kept Abigail on the edge of her seat. Eliza, on the other hand, drank her tea and worked on some needlework she had brought with her.

  “That’s a fine piece of needlework ye have there, Eliza.”

  For a moment, Abigail thought Eliza looked genuinely pleased. “I’ve worked with stitches for years,” she finally announced, as if she wondered how they could think her work would be less than exquisite.

  “So ye have finished your Christmas shopping, have ye?” Gramma asked, changing the subject from Eliza.

  “I have everything done, but I was wondering if I should get something for Titus,” Abigail said, searching Gramma’s face.

  Eliza’s head jerked toward Abigail. “You’re buying your chauffeur a present?” she asked, her eyes glaring.

  “Well, I …” Abigail thought it had seemed a friendly gesture. After all, Titus was practically like one of the family.

  Gramma came to the rescue. “Ah, ’tis a lovely idea, Abigail darling. The laddie is like ye family.”

  Eliza frowned at both of them. Her nose pointed upward. “It seems odd to me that a young lady should buy a present for her chauffeur, that’s all,” she said, lowering her gaze only long enough to stab her needle into the cloth she held and, with obvious irritation, yank the thread through to the other side.

  Abigail thought it amusing that suddenly Eliza would concern herself with propriety.

  Gramma ignored her comment and went on with another story about her sons, Thomas and Edward.

  Midway through Gramma’s story, Eliza turned to her cousin. “Abigail, shouldn’t we be going? No doubt Titus is waiting on us by now.”

  Abigail was appalled at the unchristian thoughts about this woman that assailed her mind. She threw an apologetic look to Gramma and looked back to Eliza. “I’m sure we can stay long enough for Gramma to finish her story.” Her words held chastisement, and without blinking, Abigail kept her gaze locked with Eliza’s.

  Eliza tilted her head to one side and frowned at Gramma. “I thought you were finished.” She began to put her needlework materials in a bag.

  Sorrow shadowed Gramma’s face. Abigail wanted to hug her. She wanted to do something else to Eliza but refused to allow herself the luxury of lingering on that thought.

  Gramma finished her story, although Abigail suspected Gramma had shortened it to please Eliza. “Tis time ye be going. I’ll see ye on Christmas Day, then?”

  Abigail stood and dropped a kiss on Gramma
’s cheek. “Yes, we’ll look forward to it.”

  Without looking back, Eliza pranced across the floor and called, “Bye, Gramma,” over her shoulder before disappearing through the door. Gramma and Abigail exchanged a glance, and Gramma gave her an extra squeeze. Abigail wondered how she would get through these days with her difficult cousin.

  Stepping into the sunlight, Abigail’s thoughts drifted to Christmas once again. If she’d had any doubts about getting Titus a present before, they were now gone. Feeling a trifle rebellious over her cousin’s display of distaste toward the idea, Abigail suddenly thought a present for Titus seemed the perfect idea.

  The children could hardly concentrate on their studies as talk of Christmas filled the air. The workers had covered Barnabas House with Christmas greenery and holly. The smell of cider permeated the building, along with aromas of roasted chicken, potatoes, glazed carrots, applesauce, and cookies. Many kind folks had contributed to the Christmas lunch.

  Abigail passed around candy to the children as her gift to them. Barnabas sported a handsome red bow around his neck, which made the children giggle at first sight. They decided he looked like a Christmas present, and everyone wanted to take him home. Abigail had to remind them he stayed with her but truly belonged to all of them. Barnabas strutted around the frolicking group, seeming quite pleased with all the attention.

  Having alerted Mary O’Grady to what she was about to do, Abigail called Katie over to a quiet corner. “Katie, I have a special present for you.” Mary watched from nearby.

  The little girl’s eyes grew wide, the light in them sparkling with excitement.

  “Remember the very precious gift you gave to me?”

  Katie nodded her head with all the energy of a six-year-old. “Well,” Abigail continued, “here is what I have for you.” An open locket holding Mary O’Grady’s picture dangled from a new golden chain and dropped into Katie’s chubby palm. It had taken some doing for Mary to find a picture for Abigail to place in the locket, but they finally came up with one. Abigail waited, holding her breath. She didn’t want to offend Katie by giving back her gift, yet she knew how much the child had not wanted to part with it.