by Cathy Marie Hake, Lynn A. Coleman, Mary Davis, Susan Page Davis
“Good day,” Edward murmured. He was outside on the doorstep now.
What could she do? What could she say?
She caught her breath and stifled the words she wanted to shout. They nearly choked her. Instead, she managed to say, “I’m sure Abby will be all right once she gets over the jolt of your appearance. She ought to be able to receive you properly tomorrow.”
He nodded and turned away, and she closed the door in misery, certain that she’d done the wrong thing.
Edward walked slowly down the path toward the street. What did this mean? Abigail seemed anything but glad to see him. Her blue eyes had remained downcast during most of their interview, and when she looked up, he saw something like panic harbored in them.
But she was still here at home with her parents. That in itself was an encouragement. His fear that she might have married was unfounded.
Lord, show me how to approach her tomorrow, he prayed silently as he stepped through the gate. You know my wishes, dear Father, but … Your will be done.
He pulled up suddenly as another man nearly collided with him.
“Sorry.” He jerked away, but the man seized his arm and stopped him.
“Edward? Is it you?”
He turned to look at the man. Sudden joy leaped into his heart, and he flung his arms around his cousin.
“Jacob! I’m so glad to see you at last. The Bowmans told me you and your men made it.”
Jacob gasped and pulled away from him, his eyes wide in disbelief and his mouth gaping.
“I can’t believe it! How can this be?”
Edward laughed, the first merriment he’d felt in a long time.
“It’s wonderful to see you.”
“But where … when …?” Jacob shook his head and stood staring.
“I’m on my way home to see Mother. Come with me,” Edward said.
Jacob looked longingly toward the house, then back at him. “I’m afraid I can’t. I’ve a dinner engagement this evening. But perhaps I can get away early. You must tell me everything that’s happened to you and the others.”
“I’ll be at home,” Edward said. “We’ll have a chance to discuss it soon.” He wanted to get away, to have more time to think about his encounter with the Bowman family. And he must get to his mother right away. He’d sent a note to her as soon as the ship docked, but she would not forgive him if he lingered in the street, chatting with his cousin when he ought to be hurrying home to her embrace.
“All right,” Jacob agreed. “Were you planning to go by the office tomorrow?”
“I might. Are you working there?”
“Well … yes. Listen, if you don’t come in tomorrow, I’ll come looking for you. I need to hear it all.” He lifted the latch of the gate.
“You’re going to the Bowmans’ for dinner?” Edward asked.
“Well, yes.” A flush washed Jacob’s cheeks. “I say, Edward, have you been to see Abigail?”
“As a matter of fact, yes.”
“Then she told you?”
Edward eyed him for a moment then cleared his throat.
“Told me what?”
Jacob looked toward the house, then back at him. “Edward, I …”
Edward’s anxiety mounted to paralyzing torment as he took in Jacob’s pale features. Why should his friend and cousin sound remorseful?
“I …” Jacob straightened his shoulders. “We all thought you were dead, Edward.”
“So I’ve been told.” This was it, then. This was why Abigail felt ill when she saw him.
“Yes, well, it’s been a long time.”
“Four years since the Egret sank.”
“Yes. And for the past year—oh, Edward, I didn’t mean any disrespect to you or … or any presumption, but … well, you see, I’ve been courting Abigail.”
Chapter 3
Deborah knocked softly on the door to Abigail’s room. Even through the six-panel pine door, she could hear her sister weeping. She opened it a crack and peeked in. Abigail lay facedown on her bed, crying into her pillow. Deborah tiptoed in and sat on the edge of the bed.
“There, Abby. Don’t take on so.” She rubbed her sister’s heaving shoulders, and the sobs grew quieter.
At last Abigail rolled over, her cheeks crimson and her eyes awash with tears.
“I suppose you think I’m horrible.” Abigail sniffed and her mouth twisted into a grimace. “Oh, Debbie, I know I was unkind to him—and I’m sorry—but I just couldn’t tell him. How am I supposed to deal with this situation? It’s unthinkable.”
“No, dear. I’m sure other women must have faced similar problems before.”
“I just want to die.” Abigail broke out in weeping once more, and Deborah gathered her into her arms.
After several minutes, Abigail leaned back and blew her nose on the clean handkerchief Deborah offered her.
“Look at me! I’m wretched, and Jacob will be here any minute for dinner. Maybe I should stay up here and not eat tonight.”
“Don’t you dare.”
“But what do I say to him?”
“Well, that depends.” Deborah sat back and studied her face. “Do you love Jacob?”
“Yes, of course, or else I wouldn’t have agreed to marry him.”
“And do you still love Edward?”
Her heart sank as Abigail hesitated.
“I’m not sure. I mean, I loved him when he went away, but he seems like a different person now.”
“You were only in his presence a short time,” Deborah chided. “What changes did you see in him?”
“Well …” Abigail smoothed her skirt and frowned. “Besides his looking a bit shaggy, you mean? And that jacket!”
Deborah smiled. “I expect someone cut his hair and found him a razor on the ship, and those were probably borrowed clothes.”
“You’re right, of course, but I found it disconcerting. Why didn’t he go home first and—”
“I expect he didn’t want to wait to see you.”
Abigail drew a ragged breath. “There’s more than that.” She seized her sister’s hand, her eyes pleading for understanding. “I think I’m a little afraid of him, Debbie. He’s not nearly so docile as he was before.”
“Docile? Honestly, Abby, I saw great longing and love in his face when you came into the room. He still dotes on you. I dare say he’s been dreaming of this reunion for five years.”
Abigail sobbed and put the handkerchief to her lips. “I want to do the right thing, but what is the right thing in this case? Though I didn’t intend to, I find myself engaged to two men. What sort of hoyden would do that?”
“There, now, don’t vex yourself. No one is going to think ill of you. You waited far longer than most women would to set your affections elsewhere. For three years after his disappearance, you mourned Edward. Even then, when Jacob began calling on you, you held him off for a long time. No one can fault you for your conduct on that score.”
“Thank you. It means a lot to hear you say that.” Abigail squeezed her hand. “But what should I do now? Should I break off my engagement to Jacob, or should I tell Edward things have changed and I am now committed to Jacob? What is the honorable thing to do?”
“I don’t know. If it’s not clear to you, you must pray and seek God’s will about your dilemma. But I do know one thing.”
“What is that?”
“You must tell Jacob tonight, and when Edward comes round tomorrow, you must be honest with him.”
“What if he doesn’t understand?”
“Did he understand you five years ago?”
“Well, yes, I thought so, but—we were so young, Debbie. Perhaps Father was right to urge Edward and me to put off an engagement until he returned from his voyage.”
Deborah’s heart twisted. How could Abby consider not marrying Edward now? He was the brightest, finest young man she’d ever known. They’d all mourned his loss with Abby. Yet they’d all felt relief this past year when she’d finally put aside her sorrow an
d risen from her anguished grief.
Deborah put her hand to her sister’s cheek and wiped away a straggling tear. “Pray hard, then, and speak your heart to both men.”
A soft rap sounded on the door, and Mother looked in. “Jacob has arrived, girls. Your father is entertaining him in the parlor. You’d best come down and greet him, as dinner will be served shortly.”
Abigail stood and inhaled deeply. “I suppose I must go down and tell him that Edward has come back.”
Her mother sighed. “You can stop worrying about that. He knows.”
“But how—”
“He arrived a bit early, and he learned it when he saw his cousin leaving the house.”
“He saw Edward?” Abigail grabbed the bedpost and clung to it.
Concerned that her sister would swoon, Deborah leaped to her side.
“Please, Mother,” Abigail wailed. “Let me stay up here. I’m not hungry.”
“None of that, now. It’s bad enough you seem to have let Edward leave without explaining your situation to him. You mustn’t neglect to speak to Jacob.”
Deborah slipped her arm around Abigail’s waist. “You’ll feel better after you discuss it with him. Jacob is a reasonable man.”
“Not to mention a very handsome one and devoted to you,” her mother added. “Come, now.”
During dinner, Deborah sensed that everyone was on edge. After a timid, “You’ve heard about Edward,” from Abigail and Jacob’s response that he was indeed aware of the marvelous news, the conversation grew a bit stilted. Deborah ate mechanically as she strove to find topics that would put them all at ease. Her father launched into a story about one of his patients, and the tension subsided.
As soon as the meal was over, Dr. Bowman said, “Jacob, will you join me in my study for coffee?”
“If you don’t mind, sir,” Jacob replied, “I’d like to speak to Abigail privately.” He looked anxiously at his fiancée.
Deborah expected Abigail to find an excuse to decline, but instead, her sister said, “I will take a short stroll with you if Deborah accompanies us.”
Her mother frowned. “Are you sure you are up to it, dear? You’ve had a shock today.”
“I—” Abigail glanced at Jacob, then looked down at the linen napkin crumpled in her hand. “I think Mr. Price and I need a chance to discuss today’s events.”
“You’re right,” said Dr. Bowman. “With Debbie along, I have no objection. Just see them home early, young man.”
“Thank you, sir.” Jacob rose and pulled Abigail’s chair out for her.
Deborah found the prospect of chaperoning while Abigail bared her heart to her suitor distasteful, but she knew that if she refused, her sister would probably put off clearing the air with Jacob. Resigned to the outing, she fetched her shawl and headed toward the harbor with the couple.
As they walked, Jacob kept to mundane remarks about the weather, not broaching the subject that concerned them all until he found a bench overlooking the water. They sat down, and he reached for Abigail’s hand.
“Abigail, dearest,” he began.
Deborah turned away and stared studiously at a sloop anchored beyond the cluster of fishing boats nearest the shore. It was not fully dark yet, and other people passed them, ambling peacefully along in the warm June evening.
“I must know how things stand with you and Edward,” Jacob continued. “Surely you understand my turmoil. I know you pledged your love to me in good faith, but you also pledged yourself to my cousin. I shan’t be able to sleep tonight if I don’t know that you still love me and plan to become my wife.”
A prolonged silence followed, and Deborah felt Jacob’s distress. Even more, she felt Abigail’s anguish. Her sister’s shoulders began to shake, and the bench quivered. Deborah whirled and put her arms around Abigail.
“Really, Jacob, can’t you be more considerate?”
Jacob coughed and stared at Deborah. “Forgive me, but my future is at stake here. Surely I have a right to know where I stand.”
“And what about Abby? Hasn’t she any rights?” By the shock in Jacob’s eyes, Deborah knew she was coming at it a bit strong, but she couldn’t help it, seeing her sister crushed by the weight of the decision that lay before her. Suddenly she wondered if her own secret preference for Edward was influencing her to fight so fiercely. Was she more committed to seeing Abigail have time to make a rational decision or for Edward to have time to make his case? She wouldn’t think about that now. “Abby has had a severe shock, and a gentleman shouldn’t clamor so urgently for answers.”
Jacob sat back, his spine rigid against the bench.
Deborah stroked Abigail’s hair and whispered, “There, now, dear. You need some time to think everything through and pray about it.”
Jacob produced a clean handkerchief. Abigail took it with a murmured, “Thank you,” and dabbed at her eyes.
Jacob sat forward, clasping his hands between his knees. He shot a sideways glance at Abigail, and when he caught Deborah’s eye, she favored him with a meaningful glare.
He cleared his throat. “I suppose your sister is right, my dear. You are as startled and confused as I am. Would you say that a week is time enough for you to sort out your feelings on the matter?”
Abigail gulped and raised her lashes, meeting his gaze in the twilight. “A week?”
“Yes.” Jacob reached for her hand, and Deborah turned away, feeling even more the unwanted companion.
“Abby, dearest, I love you more than life itself. When you grieved for Edward, I admired that. I saw your tender heart and your faithfulness to the man you loved. And I longed for that. I craved to have that devotion turned my way.”
Abigail let out a soft sigh. “Oh, Jacob! I do care for you. You know that.”
There was a soft smacking sound, and Deborah assumed he was kissing her hands. She turned even farther away, her cheeks flushing, and wished she were anywhere but on that bench.
“Oh, darling,” Jacob said, “if your earlier attachment to Edward is stronger, then I suppose you should honor it. It’s not in your character to deny it. But in my heart, I can’t help hoping you will choose me. Edward is an honorable man, and I love him, too. I promise to hold no bitterness toward you whatever your decision.”
“Thank you.” Abigail’s voice broke, and Deborah foresaw another deluge of tears. She jumped up and faced the startled Jacob.
“I believe it’s time we returned to the house, Mr. Price.”
“Oh, certainly.”
Abigail stood and gathered her cloak about her, and they strolled away from the harbor, back toward the residential neighborhood. Deborah noticed that her sister kept her hand tucked through Jacob’s arm as they walked.
They reached the Bowmans’ door, and Jacob caressed Abigail’s hand before releasing it. “Might I come to call again Sunday, Abby?”
“I … well, yes.”
He nodded. “I’ll see you then. Good night.”
Deborah opened the door, and she and Abigail stepped into the hall. She hung up her shawl and turned to face her sister.
“Oh, Debbie, they are both fine men. Whatever shall I do?” Abigail burst into tears again.
“My dear, dear boy!”
Edward submitted to his mother’s ferocious embrace. “I love you, Mother. I’m so sorry I wasn’t here for you when Father was ill.”
She stepped back and devoured him with her eyes. “It was a trial, but your sister was a great comfort to me. The Price family, too. Jacob and his parents helped me with everything, from the burial arrangements to finding new household help when the hired girl left to be married. And Jacob has kept the business running as smoothly as a sleigh on ice. Thanks to him, I have not wanted for money.”
“I’m glad he’s taken care of you.” He noted how her hair had silvered, but her posture was still straight and her movements steady.
He let her lead him into the kitchen and sit him down at the table in the spot where his father always used to sit. Al
l the while, thoughts about Jacob raced through his mind. It seemed his cousin had taken his place in many areas—his career, his duties as a son, and even his role as Abigail’s future husband. He tried to squelch the jealousy that sprang up, forming a crushing weight on his chest. It was only the closeness of the room, he told himself, and the smoke from the fireplace and the cooking smells within the confined space that made him feel ill and claustrophobic.
His mother tied a calico apron over her gray skirt and pulled two kettles away from the fire.
“I hope you were not overset by the news of my return,” he said.
She bustled about, filling a plate for him. “It was a shock of the best kind. I fell into my chair when I first opened your note, but Jenny Hapworth was here—she does the housework for me now. She brought me tea and let me dither on. I’m afraid I was overly exuberant for a woman my age.”
He smiled and captured her hand as she set the plate before him.
“I should have come to you first.”
“No, no, I understood perfectly. You had another errand that couldn’t wait.” She eyed him closely, her mouth drooping in an anxious frown. “How did you find Miss Bowman?”
“She … was a bit more distraught than you and perhaps not so exuberant.”
His mother eyed him with compassion, then nodded. “I’m sorry. Well, I set about cooking and airing your room as soon as I got the news. I hope you haven’t eaten.”
“No, I had a glass of cider while at the Bowmans’, but beyond that, I’ve had nothing since breakfast.”
“My poor boy! I hope you still like roast mutton. We’ve no potatoes left, but there’s plenty of biscuits and applesauce and a pudding for after.”
He surveyed the plate. “I doubt I shall be able to eat all this. I’m not used to such bounty.”
Tears sprang into his mother’s eyes, and she ruffled his hair before hurrying to the fireplace to remove a steaming kettle of water.
“Tea or coffee?”
“Coffee, please, if you have it. I spent many evenings in my exile trying to recall the smell and taste of the brew.”