More Than Words Can Say
Page 31
Abigail shook her head. “Sorry. Accosted is too strong a word. Our paths merely crossed in the fabric section, and she hissed at me a bit. Said she hoped I was happy, now that I’d ruined her life a second time.” She shrugged. “I ignored her and moved to a different section of the store, not wanting to engage in another of her verbal skirmishes, but now I wish I had said something. Tried to encourage her in some way. It breaks my heart to see her so bitter and miserable.”
“Her heart’s so hard, I doubt anything you could have said would have penetrated.” Rosalind laid a comforting hand on Abigail’s arm.
“Maybe not, but I’ll say an extra prayer for her tonight. Chester too. Perhaps with God’s help, Sophia can finally stop grieving over what she’s lost and appreciate what she has.”
Rosalind tipped her head. “Perhaps.” A distracted look passed over her face, one that clearly indicated she had something more than the mayor and his wife on her mind.
Abigail smiled at Ida Mae, who was still lingering near Rosalind’s side, no doubt eavesdropping on the conversation about Sophia. Given her own history with the mayor’s wife, her interest was certainly understandable. Nevertheless, Abigail sensed Rosie wouldn’t share the rest of what was on her mind until they had sufficient privacy.
Abigail pointed to the counter where the third glass of lemonade stood. “Ida Mae, will you take that last glass of lemonade over to Mr. Hamilton, please?”
The girl looked from one sister to the other, then nodded and hurried off to do what she’d been asked.
Abigail turned back to Rosalind. “There’s more, isn’t there?”
Rosalind bit her lower lip, then drew Abby aside. “Yes.” She reclaimed the paper and flipped the pages to a section near the end. She pointed to an ad in the right column. “Here.”
Abigail took the paper back and read the words.
Wanted: Young women, 18 to 30 years of age, of good character, attractive and intelligent, as waitresses in Harvey Houses in the West. Good wages, with room and meals furnished.
“I don’t understand,” Abigail said as she looked up from the paper. “What does this have to do with us?”
Rosalind took the paper back and crinkled the pages with the force of her grip. “I’ll be eighteen in a couple months.”
Her meaning clicked in Abigail’s mind, sending a boulder of dread sinking in her belly. “You want to apply.”
Rosalind nodded. “I do.”
“Why?” Abigail forced her voice to remain calm even as panic built in her breast. What would she do without Rosie? They had depended on each other their entire lives. Her sister couldn’t leave.
“Maybe I need to get away from the memories too.” Rosalind’s voice echoed softly in a room that suddenly seemed too quiet. Work on the oven had ceased.
Zach appeared at Abigail’s side, his palm resting against her lower back, his attention fixed on Rosalind even as he braced Abigail. She glanced around, not wanting the kids to overhear this discussion, but they were nowhere to be found.
“Gave Nate a nickel and sent them to the store for some candy,” Zach said. “They’ll be gone for a bit.”
How had he known? Had he been watching her that closely? He must have been, for here he stood, being exactly what she needed him to be—her anchor in a storm she hadn’t seen coming.
Rosalind set the paper aside and widened her stance as if preparing for a battle. “I want a fresh start, Abby. A chance to leave the girl in those photo cards behind for good. Working for Fred Harvey will give me a chance to get out of Texas, to see new places and meet new people. I already know how to run a food service, thanks to you, so I know I can do the work.”
She licked her lips, glanced from Zach back to Abby, then continued her plea. “You have Nate now to help you with the shop. He’s picking things up so fast. He’ll know the price list better than I do in another week. And you have Zach.”
Was that what Rosalind wanted? A husband? If so, couldn’t she find one here? Why did she have to travel to some far-off city?
No, it wasn’t a husband she sought. Not really. She sought peace. Abigail had finally put her past to rest with God’s help and Zach’s understanding. Rosalind wanted to do the same.
So, setting aside the sorrow of losing her sister and dearest friend, the fear of all the things that could possibly go wrong, and the selfish desire to hold on tight and never let go, Abigail offered the one thing her sister had always offered her—support.
“All right.”
Her agreement startled Rosalind. She blinked several times before she managed to speak. “You’ll let me go?”
Abigail smiled. “You’re a grown woman, Rosie. You don’t need my permission. All I ask is that you pray about it before you apply. Make sure you are following God’s leading and not simply trying to escape.”
“I—I will.”
“Then I will support your choice.”
“Thank you!” Rosalind lurched forward and wrapped Abigail in a rib-crunching embrace.
Abigail hugged her back just as tightly, wishing she could hold on forever but knowing that wouldn’t be right for either of them.
“You better write to me,” she said, taking refuge in the bossy big sister role before she completely lost her composure and started bawling like a baby. “Often.”
Later that night, Abigail sat with her husband on the sofa in the parlor. Nate and Ida Mae were back at their apartment, and Rosalind was washing her hair. Abby leaned her head on Zach’s chest, letting the thump of his heart soothe her spirit.
“I’m proud of you,” he murmured. “It’s hard to let them set their own path.”
He would know. He’d done it himself. Twice. It still amazed her to realize how well-matched they were, how similar their pasts. She might have come up with the crazy scheme to marry in order to protect her bakery, but only God could have given her a husband who fit her so perfectly.
Zach bent toward her and pressed a tender kiss on her forehead. “I love you, Abby-mine.”
Her heart thrilled at the words. He didn’t gift her with them often, but when he did, they shone like well-polished silver.
“I love you too. For always and forever.”
He gave a little grunt and squeezed her close. Abby grinned. He’d just promised to love her forever too.
Author Note
Writing historical fiction is a challenge when setting a story in a real place. There is so much research that needs to be done to provide authenticity to the setting, and many times reliable records are few and far between. That is why I want to give special praise to the Honey Grove Preservation League. Their online historical resources are some of the best I have ever come across. Historical photos, newspaper articles, government records—it was like stepping through a time portal every time I visited.
It brought me so much joy to mention real people and places in this novel. Places like the Commercial Hotel; the home of James Gilmer that was built during this time period; Wilkins, Wood & Patteson Dry Goods; and Dora Galbraith Patteson’s millinery shop on the east side of the town square. While Reuben Sinclair and Zacharias Hamilton are completely fictitious characters, there really was a lumberyard located on the corner of Sixth Street and Rail Road. And the tale of Davy Crockett carving the town name in a tree while on his way to the Alamo is well-documented in early Honey Grove accounts.
As fiction authors are wont to do, I have taken a few liberties with Honey Grove’s history. To my knowledge, there was never any city ordinance banning women from owning businesses in town. In addition, Mayor Chester Longfellow was a complete invention of my imagination. The true mayor of Honey Grove during this time period was J. H. Smith, a man who served in that capacity from 1888–1897. He must have been a well-loved city official to hold office for nearly a decade. I paid brief homage to him by having him step back into office when my fictitious mayor resigned.
I hope you have enjoyed stepping back in time with me to Honey Grove, Texas. Zach and Abigail might n
ot have lived there in truth, but I like to believe their tale is a representation of the many amazing love stories that have taken place in that sweet little town through the years.
Christy Award finalist and winner of the ACFW Carol Award, HOLT Medallion, and Inspirational Reader’s Choice Award, bestselling author Karen Witemeyer writes historical romances because she believes the world needs more happily-ever-afters. She is an avid cross-stitcher and shower singer, and she bakes a mean apple cobbler. Karen makes her home in Abilene, Texas, with her husband and three children.
To learn more about Karen and her books and to sign up for her free newsletter featuring special giveaways and behind-the-scenes information, please visit www.karenwitemeyer.com.
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Table of Contents
Cover
Half Title Page
Books by Karen Witemeyer
Title Page
Copyright Page
Dedication
Contents
Epigraph
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Epilogue
Author Note
About the Author
Back Ads
Back Cover
List of Pages
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