by Diann Hunt
Katie gasped. Large tears toppled from her eyes and streaked down her plump cheeks. “That’s Ma! And you fixed my broken chain!” Before Abigail could respond, Katie threw her arms around her and squeezed her tight. When Katie released her, she bit her lip for a moment. “But now you don’t have a present.”
“Ah, but I do, Katie. My gift is the pleasure of seeing your eyes when you looked upon your ma’s picture and your special locket. I’ll feel happy every time I see you wear it.”
Katie hugged her once again. “Ma says the gift that brings the most pleasure is the one that is hardest to give.” She wiped the tears from her face. “I didn’t want to give you my special locket. But since it was the hardest to give, I knew you would like it most.”
“Oh!” Abigail’s words caught in her throat. She closed her eyes to the tears that sprang forth. Once she opened her eyes, she saw Mary O’Grady smiling and wiping tears from her own face.
If she never took another breath, Abigail knew Christmas had already come to her. For in that moment, she learned the most precious gift she had to give was her heart. And she understood that she must risk giving it away in a manner she had never done before.
One day …
Chapter 9
Abigail rubbed her eyes and opened them to the morning light that streamed through her windowpane. Outside, lacy snowflakes fell from a frosty sky to the ground below. A childish excitement swept through her like a December blizzard. Quickly she pulled on her slippers and robe then ran to the window.
She turned to look at Barnabas who, with droopy eyes, watched her, all the while staying curled at the foot of her bed.
Abigail laughed and looked back out the window. With childish abandon, she thought herself in the most magical of places. She drank in the scene of frosted trees topped by an icing of snow and imagined the frost on the fence post was a smattering of fairy dust.
It was Christmas! The one day in all the year when she refused to be sad about anything.
Quickly dressing for the day, Abigail made her way into the kitchen, where she ate her breakfast.
Morning gave way to afternoon as Abigail worked alongside her mother with the meal preparations. Just when dinner was ready to serve, someone knocked at the front door.
“Oh, would you get that, Abigail?” Mother called from the kitchen.
Abigail went to the door and opened it. There stood Titus, holding his sister in his arms, his ma standing beside him, and Gramma beside her. “Oh, come in,” Abigail said, hastily moving out of the way.
The little family went into the drawing room. Abigail pointed to a sofa, where Titus carefully laid his sister. After quick introductions, Titus took Jenny’s cloak from her, as well as his own, and handed them to Abigail. Mrs. Matthews and Gramma did the same.
Abigail put the winter wraps away then rejoined them. After a short visit, Mother announced the meal was ready, and in no time at all, they were sitting around the dinner table. Father offered the prayer. Finally, the sounds of clanging silverware, bowls thumping against the wooden table, and soft chatter filled the room.
“Jenny, would you like some of this?” Abigail asked, pointing to the potatoes. The little girl nodded slightly and lifted a shy smile. One by one, Abigail found Jenny’s preferences and placed food on her plate. Abigail glanced up to see Titus watching her, a look of appreciation in his eyes.
Eliza cleared her throat. They both looked at her then went back to their business. “So, Titus,” Eliza said, lifting her fork in the air, “tell me more about yourself.” The chattering at the table stopped. With a curious glance, Mrs. Matthews looked at Eliza. Titus squirmed in his chair, seemingly uncomfortable with the attention.
“Eliza, we’ve talked about me many times before. This is Christmas. There is much more to discuss.”
“All right, then,” she said, not to be deterred, “I can tell you about me.”
Heat flamed Abigail’s cheeks at Eliza’s selfishness.
“You may not know this, but I’ve actually won awards for my needlepoint. I have quite a lot of things at home decorated with needlepoint—pillows, pillowcases, and the like. But of course, I brought only the bare essentials to work with when I had to come here.” Instead of reflecting gratitude for a roof over her head, Eliza’s voice was tainted with disgust.
Feeling her Irish blood shift from simmer to a rolling boil, Abigail opened her mouth to say something but caught her mother’s discreet shake of the head. Abigail clamped her mouth shut. All the angry words bunched in her throat, and she swallowed them.
It took two hard swallows.
“You do a beautiful job with your needlepoint, Eliza. I noticed the pillow you are currently working on is very nice, indeed,” Mother said.
Eliza straightened her shoulders and lifted her nose, ever so slightly, but said nothing.
Mother changed the subject. “You know, I was reading in the newspaper—”
“Did you hear about the woman who tried to befriend a prison inmate?” Eliza interrupted. “It seems while attending to the female prisoner, the kind woman had taken quite ill. The prisoner gave her a drink of water, sprinkled with morphine, which promptly put the volunteer to sleep. When she awoke, she was void of her teeth.” Eliza laughed heartily.
“Oh dear,” Mother said with a gasp. “That’s positively scandalous.”
“I’d be in a fix without me teeth, I can tell ye that,” Gramma admitted.
Eliza nodded her head. “The prisoner took out the woman’s teeth for the gold in them. The police found them later stuffed in her things.”
Mother tsked and shook her head. “What is the world coming to?”
“I think it’s funny,” Eliza continued.
“’Twouldn’t be so funny if ye didn’t have ye teeth,” Gramma chided before chewing heartily on a piece of turkey. Then she shrugged. “I’m afraid they wouldn’t get much from me, though, they wouldn’t. Not a piece of gold in there. Me teeth be worth their weight in gold to me, though.” Gramma laughed at her own joke.
“I still think it’s funny,” Eliza said, lifting an eyebrow and lifting her nose in a snoot.
Mother pinned Eliza with a look that said enough. “I think it’s quite unfortunate, Eliza.”
“It’s Christmas. We should talk about happy things,” Abigail put in.
Eliza scowled at her.
“If everyone is quite finished, I say it’s time we share our presents,” Father said pleasantly, as if trying to lighten the tension in the room.
Abigail’s heart squeezed. Her mother had wanted the day to be perfect, and Eliza seemed bent on ruining it. Why did she have to come, anyway? The sooner she could leave, the better. She was just like her father.
Dusk had settled over the town as the group shared their presents and got to know one another. By the time Titus, his family, and Gramma left the gathering, a wintry moon hung suspended above a cluster of oak trees. Making their way out the door, Abigail called out to him. “Oh, Titus, I almost forgot.” He turned to her. She ran into the kitchen and back to the door.
Since her family had given Titus a new hat for Christmas, Abigail had decided to bake some cookies for him and his family as her gift. Though it wasn’t as nice as the scarf Eliza had given him, she decided she preferred something a little less personal. She lifted a plate of assorted cookies to him. “I know it’s just cookies, but I baked them for you and your family.” A twinge of embarrassment heated her cheeks.
He stood looking at her without saying a word, but he didn’t have to. His eyes spoke of his pleasure.
“What a lovely gesture, Abigail. A gift of time is one of the finest treasures of all,” Mrs. Matthews said.
Abigail heard Eliza “humph” behind her then clomp up the stairs.
Gramma winked at Abigail.
“Well, Merry Christmas,” Abigail said. A flurry of holiday greetings filled the room as the Matthews family and Gramma went through the door, allowing the wisp of a wintry breeze to slip inside befor
e they stepped into the cold night.
By the time Titus had dropped off Gramma O’Connor and reached their home, he was pretty worn-out from the day. Lifting his sleeping sister from the carriage, he hurried through their front door with Ma close behind. After laying Jenny on her bed, he braced himself for the cold, went back outside, took care of their horse and wagon, then went back in the house. Ma had hot coffee waiting.
Long legs stretched out before him as he settled into his seat. “This is nice, Ma. Thanks,” he said, wrapping his cold fingers around the warm cup.
She sat across from him at the table, took a sip of coffee, and looked at him. “We had a wonderful Christmas, didn’t we?”
“That we did,” he agreed.
“Jenny seemed taken with Abigail.”
“I noticed that,” he said with pleasure.
“Abigail is a fine young lady.”
Titus looked at Ma, throwing her a look that said he knew exactly what she was up to. “There’s no denying that.”
“She’ll make some man a fine wife one day.”
“I suppose so,” he said matter-of-factly, hiding a smile behind his cup.
“Tell me what you think of Eliza,” Ma said, studying his face.
Titus shook his head and blew out a sigh. “Now there’s a woman who could make a man choose the company of his horse.”
Ma seemed to struggle with holding back a chuckle. “I must agree she is, well, a tad bold.” Ma took another drink. “It’s obvious she’s taken by you.”
He whistled. “I know you’re a praying woman, Ma, and the man Eliza O’Connor snags will need much prayer, but I don’t plan on getting snagged.”
“By her?”
“By her.”
She looked at him, her eyes twinkling. He suddenly realized he had been trapped. “All right, I see what you’re doing here.”
Ma feigned innocence.
He rubbed his head. “Aw, Ma, I plan on getting married one day. When I find the right woman.”
Her eyebrows lifted.
“What?”
“Anybody I know?”
He smirked at her. “I’ll let you know when I meet her. Until then—”
She cut him off. “I’ll keep praying.”
He smiled, rose from the table, and dropped a kiss on her head. “I love you, Ma,” he said before taking his cup to the sink. “Good night.”
Titus had made a habit of attending church with the O’Connors but was no closer to finding out anything substantial against the family. It seemed everyone liked them. He could see why.
After lunch, the O’Connors prepared to go visit Gramma, who had felt poorly and stayed home from church. Titus needed to get back home to Ma and Jenny. He started to board his wagon when he realized he’d left his hat on the kitchen table. Remembering the O’Connors left their home unlocked, he decided he’d better retrieve his hat. Barnabas greeted him with a wagging tail when Titus stepped back into the house. Titus stooped and scratched the old hound behind the ears then walked over to the table where he’d left his hat.
As he turned to go, he walked through the hall and noticed the open door to the sitting room. This was Mr. O’Connor’s study area. He glanced in as he walked by and noticed a box by Mr. O’Connor’s chair. Though the notion of getting even with this family lessened with each passing day, he couldn’t deny he hadn’t given up on the idea entirely. No one was home. They need never know. He stood in the doorway, biting his lip, hesitating, wondering.
Before he could think any further, his footsteps carried him into the room. He scrunched down by the box, and though guilt plagued him, he reached for the box and opened it. Assorted business papers filled the pine box, most of which meant nothing to him. Then he saw the letter to his pa from Mr. O’Connor, agreeing to sell his remaining shares of the business to Pa. He quickly scanned the letter, taking in the fact Mr. O’Connor did mention diversifying and making sure Pa wanted full ownership. Titus stared into books that lined the wall, though not really seeing them. By the sounds of the letter, Mr. O’Connor didn’t want to sell off the business. The warning to diversify was obvious.
Mr. O’Connor had been telling the truth. He felt as if a load of bricks had been lifted from his shoulders. All this time with all his bitterness and resentment, he had been wrong. Maybe Ma was right. Maybe Mr. O’Connor had not tried to break their family. Pa’s wrong choices took them there. Titus’s hand shook with thoughts of days wasted, energies spent, bitterness eating away at him.
He heard a jostling at the front door. Barnabas ran to the door and started barking. Quickly, Titus placed the letter back in the appropriate place in the box. Grabbing his hat, he hurried through the sitting-room door and walked down the hallway toward the front door. Eliza stepped in.
“Hush up, you no-account dog!” She looked up and saw Titus. “Oh my, you startled me,” she said, holding a gloved hand to her throat.
“Sorry. I just came in to get my hat,” he explained.
She eyed him with suspicion. Her gaze glanced around the area. His pulse raced in his ears. He hoped he had put everything back in order.
“Yes, well, I need a heavier cloak,” she said. “Would you mind helping me out of this one?” Before he could answer, she walked over to him and turned around with her back to him. He slipped off her cloak. She turned around, mere inches from his face. “Thank you,” she whispered. He could feel her breath on his cheek.
She raised her arms to his chest and with a gloved hand ran her finger down his jaw. “You know, Titus, I’d really like to get to know you better.” Her tone was one of definite boldness. He took a step back.
“Titus, why do you avoid me?” A pout played on her lips. “Aren’t you attracted to me?” She walked over to him again. This time her arms went up around his neck. “Don’t you desire me even the least little bit?” Pulling his head farther down to her until their lips finally met, she pressed her mouth hard against his own. He wanted to pull away, but he hadn’t kissed a woman in such a long time. A warning seemed to sound inside him. He mentally shook himself and broke free, pulling her arms from his neck. He stepped back.
“I’ve got to go, Eliza.”
She lifted her chin. He felt pride rather than modesty stained her cheeks red. The look on her face spelled trouble. He knew that look, because he’d worn it himself until ten minutes ago.
Just then the front door opened. They both turned to see Abigail.
She stopped short, as if she realized she had interrupted an awkward moment. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to intrude.”
“No intrusion at all,” Titus said, his heart feeling lighter by the minute. Especially with the sight of Abigail. His reassuring smile seemed to put her at ease, though the scorn on Eliza’s face must have told her a different story altogether.
He brushed by Abigail and turned back. Seeing Eliza’s back to him, he looked at Abigail. “I’ll see you tomorrow,” he said in hushed tones, his gaze lingering on her.
Chapter 10
The next morning, Abigail stepped into the blazing yellow sunlight. The town glistened in a whitewash of snow. The January air smelled clean as a new year. An early chill prickled her skin as Abigail stepped toward the carriage. Stopping short of the carriage seat, Abigail turned to Titus, wondering how to approach the matter.
“I was hoping maybe after we visit Barnabas House, if we might perhaps—well, uh, I was wondering …”
Titus appeared perplexed by her struggle with the words.
She took a deep breath. “Could we stop by your house? I have something for Jenny.”
He looked like he might object then seemed to think better of it. His glance went to the cloth rag doll in her hands.
She held it up. “This is Laura. She used to be mine when I was a little girl.”
His eyebrows spiked upward. “You can’t give her something so valuable, Abigail.” His words were soft.
Lifting her head in confidence, she looked at him. “A wise friend once told
me that when you love someone, you give them your best gift, just like God did when He gave His Son, Jesus.”
Titus stared into her eyes, never blinking. “Well, I guess I can’t argue that.” He waited a moment, still looking into her eyes. “Thank you, Abigail.” His voice was husky and low. His hand touched her arm. He had never touched her, even slightly, unless it was to help her into the carriage. Somehow she felt something was changing between them.
The thrill of presenting her doll to Jenny kept Abigail excited all morning while working at Barnabas House. Once they arrived at the Matthewses’ home, Abigail was taken back by the poverty surrounding them. It made her admire Titus all the more. Rather than wallowing in self-pity, he got out there and made the effort to feed his family. The more she thought about him, the more she liked him.
He helped her from the carriage. “I apologize for the area.” His hand swept across the neighborhood.
“Please.” Abigail stopped his hand midway and held it. “Don’t. I didn’t come here to see the neighborhood. I came here to see your ma and Jenny.”
“You’re a wonder, you know that?”
She laughed. “I’ll bet that’s what you say to all the ladies.” Her steps continued toward the door.
He laughed and jumped forward to keep up with her. He grabbed her hand and turned her to him. “No. Just you.”
Abigail swallowed hard. The front door opened. “I thought I heard someone.” Mrs. Matthews’s face sparkled with pleasure. “Abigail, so good to see you. Come in. Come in.”
Once inside, Mrs. Matthews pulled Abigail into a warm embrace. When they parted, she smiled and pointed to Jenny. The little girl lay in a heap on a mattress on the floor. She looked up at Abigail, a huge smile on her face, a twinkle in her eyes.
“Well, hello, little one,” Abigail said, walking across the floor and stooping down to her. Holding the rag doll behind her back, she said, “I have something for you, Jenny.”