by Diann Hunt
The little girl’s eyes lit with excitement. With her strong arms, she pushed herself up.
“Funny how they have the strength when they need it,” Mrs. Matthews said with a laugh.
Abigail smiled and brought the rag doll in front of her. “This is for you.”
Tears made wet tracks down the little girl’s cheeks. “Oh,” Abigail said with a gasp. She pulled Jenny into a hug. “You like it then?” she asked, once she released her.
Jenny nodded.
“I’m so glad, Jenny. You see, this is Laura. She used to be my doll when I was a little girl.” Jenny smiled and immediately pulled the doll tight against her chest.
Abigail stood.
“How about some coffee?” Mrs. Matthews asked them.
Abigail looked to Titus. “Fine with me, if Abigail doesn’t mind.”
“I’d like that,” she said.
“Good.”
The three sat down at the kitchen table. Though the place looked old and revealed little wealth, Abigail noticed the room was clean. An apple pie baked in the oven, spreading a pleasant scent around the room.
“You finally made your apple pie,” Titus teased.
“I wanted to save it for a special day. And as it turned out, today is special. Jenny received a wonderful gift from Abigail.” Mrs. Matthews looked at Jenny and smiled then turned to Abigail. “Thank you.”
“My pleasure. I did have another matter I wanted to talk with you about,” Abigail ventured.
Titus looked at her with surprise.
“I wanted to know if I might come over and work with Jenny on her words.” Seeing the surprise on their faces, she hurried on. “I’m a certified teacher, you know, and I can get some books. If you’ll allow me, maybe I can help her.”
“You would do this for our Jenny?” Mrs. Matthews asked with disbelief.
“Of course.”
More charity. Titus knew Abigail’s heart was right, but he didn’t like charity. Even from her. “I don’t think so, Abigail,” he said.
Abigail and Mrs. Matthews looked to him with a start.
“But why, Titus?” Mrs. Matthews wanted to know.
“We don’t need charity. When I save enough money, we’ll get the help we need.”
“You’ll allow your stubborn pride to keep your sister from getting help?” There went her Irish temper again. She took a deep breath.
His jaw set, his cold, hard gaze held hers.
“What do you say, Mrs. Matthews?”
Mrs. Matthews looked from Abigail to her daughter, and then to Titus. “I say, I love my son.” She caught his attention then continued. “But this time he is wrong.” She turned to Abigail. “I would appreciate anything you can do.”
Titus took a deep breath. He drank his coffee more quickly than anyone should drink something hot, and then he went outside.
Abigail stood to leave.
“Don’t worry. He’ll come around. He’s got his pa’s stubborn pride.”
Abigail smiled at the kind woman. “I’ll be by three times a week.”
“May God bless you for your kindness.”
Two weeks later found Titus walking around the O’Connor property, trying to sort things through in his mind. He supposed Abigail’s charity caused old doubts to resurface. Though he had found the letter in Mr. O’Connor’s box revealing some of the man’s intentions, Titus still had suspicions. It didn’t strike him right that his pa would bear the entire brunt of things. Why would he put everything into that business? Things didn’t add up. Titus and his pa didn’t talk much about business things, but Titus thought his pa was a wise businessman. Had Titus been wrong?
With gusto, he kicked a pebble in his path. He was tired of thinking. Abigail had been to their home several times now. Jenny’s face lit up every time Abigail walked into the room. He couldn’t deny her presence seemed to help Jenny. The way Abigail pored over those books with Jenny, the painstaking lessons for a girl who showed little response, he had to admit were admirable. Still, he didn’t like feeling in debt to the O’Connor family just to appease their consciences.
He shouldn’t have taken his family to the O’Connors’ for Christmas. That’s what started the whole mess. And he couldn’t understand Eliza. Why was she staying there if she so obviously hated it? Did they have guilt over something done to her, as well? Maybe he should find out just why she was there.
Ma said pray about it. How could he pray when he hadn’t talked to God in more than a year? Titus once served Him, but that was before everything went wrong. You don’t serve God because He does things for you, Titus. You serve Him because of who He is. His ma’s words haunted him. Aw, why did she have to pray all the time? He kicked the ground once more with his boot.
A movement in the front of his house caught his attention. Abigail was waving. Upon seeing her, his heart flipped. Why did he do that? He didn’t want to turn weak-kneed at the sight of her. But he did.
Every time he saw her.
With a heavy sigh, he walked straight toward the woman who had turned his world upside down.
On Thursday afternoon, Eliza stayed outside talking to Titus while Abigail visited with Gramma.
“Does it bother you?” Gramma asked.
“What?”
“That your cousin visits with the handsome chauffeur?”
“Why should it?”
“Never be trustin’ an answer that asks a question, said me pa.” Gramma laughed, causing Abigail to smile.
“All right, maybe a little.”
Gramma gave her a knowing look. “Ye care about him. I can see it in ye eyes, wee one.” Gramma pointed her crooked finger at Abigail. “He cares about ye, too.”
Abigail shook her head.
“You didn’t know?”
“No Gramma, he doesn’t. He cares about Eliza.”
“Surely ye don’t think so? If he does, he’s not the man I be thinkin.”
“He spends time with her.”
“She spends time with him,” Gramma corrected. “There’s a difference. Ye must trust ye heart again, Abigail. Ye be afraid to trust. Ye fear getting hurt?”
Abigail nodded. Tears spilled down her cheeks, and she couldn’t imagine what had gotten into her.
Gramma stretched her arms wide and walked over to Abigail, pulling her into a hug. “’Tis no’ wrong to fear, Abigail, darling. ’Tis only wrong to let it hold ye prisoner.” Gramma lifted Abigail’s chin and looked her full in the face. “Life, ’Tis full of hurts. Things are not always what they seem, and expectations are set too high. People fail. Remember, we make mistakes, too.” Gramma smiled and kissed Abigail’s temple. “Never forget, everyone is imperfect. ’Tis why we need a Savior.”
Abigail nodded and blew her nose into a handkerchief. “Thank you, Gramma. Pray that I can trust again. I really want to. I just don’t know how.”
“I will pray.”
Just then the door flew open, letting all the winter’s chill in and the stove’s warmth out. Eliza stood in the doorway. “Are you ready to go yet, Abigail?” she whined, one hand on her hip. “I’m tired.”
Abigail looked at Gramma and lifted a weak smile. She stood to her feet and kissed Gramma good-bye. “I’m coming,” she called to Eliza, who was already down the stairs, leaving the door wide open. Abigail ran to the door and pulled it almost closed. “Thanks for everything, Gramma. I love you.”
“I love ye, Abigail darling.”
Abigail turned to go, wondering about the glimpse of pain that flickered across Gramma’s face.
Later that evening, sunken between soft sheets and plump blankets and pillows, Abigail felt she was lying on a cloud. She did some of her best thinking in the comfort of her bed. Barnabas whined until she stroked his fur. Then with a look of satisfaction, the mutt trotted clumsily to the foot of the bed.
Watching him, Abigail laughed. She leaned back once more and stared at the ceiling. Since her visit with Gramma, she had felt uneasy. She wasn’t sure why. Maybe it was the re
alization of knowing that her feelings for Titus were growing, or maybe it was the shadow on Gramma’s face when Abigail left. What was that about? Did she think Abigail wouldn’t trust another man? Did she fear Abigail’s heart would break again? If so, why?
She wanted to pray yet struggled. Her thoughts toward Eliza hadn’t been exactly Christian. How could God hear Abigail when her heart had shadows where Eliza was concerned? She didn’t like herself when she acted that way. It just seemed Eliza brought out the worst in her. She shook her head. No, she couldn’t blame someone else for her own actions. It was time to change things. This seemed as good a time as any.
Abigail slipped from her covers and knelt beside her bed, asking the Lord for forgiveness for her treatment of Eliza. After all, the Lord loved Abigail enough to die for her, and she didn’t deserve it. In her own strength, Abigail had to admit she didn’t have it in her to love Eliza. It would take God’s strength to work through her and make it happen. Amid a flurry of tears, Abigail laid her heart’s cry at the foot of God’s throne, knowing when she had risen, that the Savior had heard and answered her prayer.
She blew out the light in her lantern then slipped beneath her covers once again. Tomorrow would be a good day. No matter the circumstances.
Abigail slept the night through like a baby. By the time the morning’s light had flooded into her room, she felt refreshed and fully alive. She could hardly wait to start her day. God had worked in her heart; now came the time to roll up her sleeves and get to work.
Quickly, she dressed and pulled her hair back with a ribbon, allowing the curls to flow down her back. She took one glance at the looking glass and decided her appearance would do for breakfast.
Practically running down the stairs, with Barnabas right on her heels, she had a definite hop to her walk by the time she made it into the kitchen.
“Well, someone is feeling mighty chipper this morning,” Mother said with a smile.
“I feel wonderful today,” Abigail replied.
“Well, I’m glad someone does,” Eliza said as she entered. “Is the coffee ready?” She lifted sleepy eyes toward the stove.
Mother laughed. “It’s ready. You ladies go sit at the table, and I’ll bring you your breakfast.”
“Can I help?” Abigail asked.
“No dear, I can manage.”
As she walked to the table, carrying the coffeepot, Mother explained that Father had to meet his boss at the railroad station early that morning. “What’s on your schedule today, Abigail?” she asked, pouring coffee into the empty cups.
“Barnabas House has taken on more workers, so I’m not needed as often. I miss the kids, but Jenny helps fill the void. I thought I’d go over and work with her today.”
Mother smiled, placing the coffeepot back on the stove. She sat down once more. “How about you, Eliza? What are your plans?”
Eliza let out a long sigh and glared at Mother. “Same thing day after day. Work on my needlepoint; take a walk; wait, wait, wait on word from my pa.”
Tempted to snap a retort to the young woman for her ingratitude, Abigail felt a prick of conscience and threw up a silent prayer for help. This whole business was going to be harder than she thought.
“You can go with me today, Eliza, if you’d like.”
She looked at Abigail. “Well, I wouldn’t like. I don’t want to sit around while you’re teaching a girl who won’t even talk. I don’t know why you waste your time.”
A spurt of anger shot through Abigail in an instant. Her body trembled, but she said nothing. Yes, this assignment was much harder than she had anticipated.
Mother winked at Abigail.
Just then, a knock sounded at the door. Barnabas bounded to the door ahead of Mother. Abigail could hear Titus’s voice from the hallway. In a moment, boots scuffled against the floor, and Titus entered the kitchen. “I’ll get your coffee, Titus.”
He looked up rather sheepishly at Abigail. “Morning, Abigail.” Almost as an afterthought, he turned to Eliza. “Eliza,” he said with a tip of his head. She suddenly sprang to life. Her back was straighter, fingers absently brushed stray hairs into place, and a smile found its way to her face.
Mother poured some coffee and handed the cup to Titus, who stood at the entrance. “Come in and join us.”
He stretched out at the table near Abigail. Eliza frowned. Mother attempted to sit then seemed to think better of it. “Oh!” she said with a start. “I almost forgot. I stopped and picked up the mail in town yesterday, Abigail. You have a letter.”
Abigail was surprised. She couldn’t imagine who would have written to her.
Mother walked over to the counter then walked back to Abigail with a reserved smile, holding an envelope. She paused then handed it to her daughter.
Abigail took it, wondering why the hesitation. She glanced down at the envelope and saw the return address.
It simply read, “Jonathan Clark.”
Chapter 11
Abigail glanced up to see Titus staring at her with a question in his eyes. Eliza seemed to sense something going on and perked up considerably.
“So, who is Jonathan?” she asked Abigail, though her gaze stayed firmly fixed on Titus.
Mother piped up, “He’s an old friend of Abigail’s.”
Abigail shot her a grateful look then stared into her breakfast plate. She didn’t want to talk about anything just now. Suddenly, she didn’t want breakfast.
“Dear, if you’d like to go read your letter, that’s fine.”
Abigail nodded and made her way from the room. “Well, he must have been a special friend,” she heard Eliza say with a laugh. The scooting of a chair sounded from the kitchen. Abigail slipped into the sitting room and heard heavy footsteps in the hallway and finally the opening of the front door. She glanced out the window to see Titus walking across the lawn, a scowl on his face. She wondered if Eliza had said something more to upset him.
Turning her attention back to the letter, Abigail settled into a chair and began to open the white envelope. She read through the words that told her his job was going well and he was glad to be back east. But the next few lines took her breath. “I miss you. I thought I could get along, but it’s hard being here without you. I see you everywhere I turn.”
The letter continued with more superficial news, and her eyes kept going back to the part about him missing her. She read it over and over. Finally, she leaned back in the chair. What did this mean? Would he come back to Chicago? Did she want him to? She wasn’t sure anymore.
Her thoughts flitted to Titus. Every day her feelings grew a little stronger toward him. She wondered if he sensed it at all. He seemed to enjoy her company, though she didn’t know if he wanted only friendship or something more between them.
Eliza knocked at the door. Abigail motioned her in.
“Good news?” Eliza asked, looking hopeful.
“It was a nice letter.”
Eliza plopped at the desk chair. “Tell me about him.”
Abigail didn’t want to share intimate details with Eliza. They did not have that kind of friendship. In fact, Abigail felt a twinge of resentment toward Eliza for asking. After all, it was quite obvious she wanted to glean information for her own selfish purposes. To win Titus.
Maybe that’s what troubled Abigail about Eliza. Abigail was jealous. The thought irritated her even more. Why should she be jealous? It wasn’t as though Abigail and Titus had a relationship of any kind. He could certainly see whom he wished. She would not fight with Eliza over him as if they were silly schoolgirls.
Abigail rose to her feet. “There’s not much to tell, really. He’s a good friend.” With that, she left the room, leaving Eliza alone with her schemes.
“Mother, I think I’ll go visit Sophia. Would you like me to pick up anything for you while I’m out?”
Her mother appeared at the drawing room door. “No dear, I don’t need anything.” She glanced curiously at Abigail. “Everything all right?”
�
�It’s fine,” Abigail said with a smile.
Mother nodded, wiping her hands on a towel.
“I’ll just let Titus know.” Abigail grabbed her cloak and went outside with Barnabas trotting at her heels, his head up, ears pricked with the thrill of an adventure, and a long wagging tail that spiraled into a gentle curl at the very tip. Abigail looked at him and laughed.
She glanced around at the spots of persistent grass that poked through the melting snow. The sun breathed down warm rays, causing the remaining snow to sparkle and glitter on the lawn.
Abigail took in a huge helping of new morning air. “Isn’t this wonderful, Barnabas?” She looked at her faithful companion, who looked up at her in a satisfied fashion, as though he couldn’t agree more. Bending over, she scratched his head. “You’re always so agreeable, not like some people,” she said with a glance across her shoulder toward the house.
“And who might that be?” Titus’s strong voice startled her. She jerked back to look at him.
“Oh, I—”
Something in his expression made her heart go soft. When did he start affecting her in this way? He smiled. “Were you looking for me?”
She threw a thankful grin. “Yes. I wanted to know if you could take me to Sophia’s in, say, half an hour?”
“Be happy to.” He hunkered down and scratched Barnabas. “How you doing, ole boy?”
Abigail watched the scene and smiled. Barnabas had grown very fond of Titus. The dog happily nuzzled into Titus, leaning into the scratches as if he were having the most pleasurable of experiences.
“I do believe if he were a cat, he’d purr,” Titus said with a laugh.
Abigail laughed, too.
Titus finally stood and looked at Abigail again. He lingered a moment. “You doing all right?”
His question warmed her. The fact that he cared meant a lot to her. She nodded.
“Don’t let anyone hurt you.”
The comment caught her off guard. Before she could respond, he continued. “He did hurt you once, didn’t he?”
“How did you know?”