Daughter of Joy (26 page)

Abby clutched the bundle of soiled clothes to her. “We were all lost and hurting in some way or another. It was natural to turn to each other.”

“Conor’s in love with you, isn’t he?”

The question was like a blow to Abby’s gut. She had not expected Sally to be so perceptive. Yet, though she would not lie, Abby also did not feel it was her place to inform Sally of her and Conor’s relationship, or plans to marry.

“That’s a question better asked of your husband,” Abby replied instead. “I’ll tell you truly, though. Whatever your relationship was or becomes again, I’ll not interfere in any way. You’re still his wife—both in the eyes of man and God.”

Sally’s eyes filled with tears. She lowered her gaze to pick at the fine embroidery that hemmed the sheets. “I don’t hold out much hope of again becoming Conor’s true wife. I’ve hurt him too deeply for that.” She looked up, her eyes glistening. “I came back because I had nowhere else to go. But I also came back because I’m dying, and I want—I
need
—to atone for the pain I’ve caused both him and my son.

“My greatest fear, though,” she added, the tears beginning to fall, “is that I might not have enough time left to win their forgiveness. I need that forgiveness so very, very badly.”

Abby’s heart filled with compassion. Whatever the woman had been or done, she had suffered and learned, and now sought to make amends. It was her right, at the very least, to try.

“There’s one who will surely grant His forgiveness, if only you go to Him with a humble and contrite heart,” Abby said. “And His forgiveness is of far greater value than any we mortals could ever give.”

Sally smiled through her tears and nodded her head. “I’ve already returned to the Lord, Abigail. There was a priest—Father Gabriel Maguire—at a mission near Cripple Creek. He took me from the cribs there when I first sickened with the consumption and nursed me back to health. He was so good and kind. After I regained my strength, I begged him to let me stay with him and care for the sick, indigent miners and soiled doves like me. His holy, loving example inspired me to return to the Lord.”

She sighed. “I was so happy there, in spite of the consumption that was eating its way through my body, helping Father Gabriel and serving the Lord. In time, though, he convinced me to return to Culdee Creek and seek forgiveness.”

I should have known the Lord’s hand was in this, Abby thought. God worked in such mysterious and unexpected ways—ways she didn’t always understand or anticipate. All she could do was trust and accept that whatever God intended, it was intended for the good of all. Yet still, this time, Abby realized with a troubled foreboding, she feared—oh, how she feared—the price He might ask of her.

“He was a wise man,” Abby finally replied. “Nonetheless, I know it must have been hard for you to come back here. You’re a very courageous woman.”

“I’ll let you in on a little secret, Abigail,” Sally said with a shaky laugh. “I’ve been scared witless since the moment I stepped off the train in Grand View. And before that, every time I even contemplated coming back, I shook in my boots.”

“Yet still you found the strength to come.”

“The Lord gave me the strength,” Sally corrected gently. “I couldn’t have done it without Him.”

“It’s not over yet. You’ve hurt Conor deeply. He’s not a man easily given to forgiveness.”

Sally nodded her agreement. “I know.” She sighed and closed her eyes. “I think I’ll take that nap now, Abigail. Suddenly, I’m overcome with a bone deep weariness …”

“Yes, sleep, and regain your strength,” Abby urged softly. “Time enough to begin anew when you’re rested.” She turned and walked toward the door.

“Yes, time enough,” Sally mumbled drowsily from behind her, “if the Lord is willing.”

Abby entered the kitchen with Sally’s load of laundry. Conor was waiting for her, a mug of coffee clenched in his hands. Without looking at him, she laid the clothes in the alcove beside the backdoor, then proceeded to fill a large pot of water from the hand pump. She placed the pot on the stove and bent to stoke the fire.

At last, though, her initial preparations completed, she turned and acknowledged Conor’s presence. He met her gaze with a steady one of his own.

“So, how’s Sally?”

“She’s taking a nap. She was exhausted.” Abby paused, biting her lower lip. “She’s very, very ill, you know, Conor.”

“Yeah,” he muttered. “So she says.”

“I’ve seen the signs of consumption many times. Sally has a very bad case. She spoke true, when she said she may not last the year.”

He looked away. “And what do you want me to do about it? I was forced to cut her out of my heart and life when she left. I won’t take her back.”

Abby walked to the table, pulled out a chair, and sat. “You can’t know that for sure. At least not now, in the first flush of emotion over her return. In time, if she can be healed of her disease, you might find there’s still some small spark of affection left for her in your heart.”

Conor riveted the full force of his piercing stare on her. “And where would that leave you, Abby? Free of all obligation to me?”

She expelled a frustrated breath and shook her head. “You’re quick to attribute unkind, ulterior motives to my concern for Sally.”

“Well,” he said with a bitter laugh, “your behavior toward a woman who might threaten your future at Culdee Creek, not to mention with me, is unusually kind. Any other woman—especially a woman who claimed to be in love with a man—wouldn’t be taking this quite so calmly.”

“Is that what you think I’m doing? Taking this calmly?” It was Abby’s turn to laugh. “Do you know what I felt when I first learned who Sally was, Conor? I felt as if my heart was being torn from my body. I saw the end to all my hopes and dreams. I was terrified.”

“Then you do still love me! Will you stick this out with me, and still be my wife?”

Abby went silent. She could not bear that heartbreaking look of hope burning in Conor’s eyes. Love might not be enough this time. Their love for each other could never be sufficient to sever the holy vows he and Sally had made. Their love could never be greater than God’s will.

“Though you divorce Sally,” she began with quiet emphasis, “you divorce her only in the eyes of the law. In God’s eyes you’ll still be husband and wife.”

Conor slammed his fist on the table. “She broke the vows, not I. Yet you still insist on holding me to them, now, after thirteen years?”

“She’s your wife, Conor. Your wife!”

He leaned forward. “Would you have shackled yourself to your husband for the rest of your life, knowing how unfulfilled you were with him? Would you, Abby?” Though she’d never admitted it to Conor, or anyone else for that matter, as time went on, the consideration of remaining wed to Thomas for the rest of her days had begun to fill her with despair. Yet not once had she ever considered divorcing him. She had given her vow to God, and see it through she would.

“Didn’t you make holy vows in a church when you wed Sally?”

Conor scowled. “Yes, I did.”

“And didn’t you give them in good faith and mean them?”

“Yes. Just as I’ll mean them when we wed.” He sighed and leaned back in his chair. “If Sally had stayed, I’d have seen them through no matter what. But she left. She broke the vows and, as far as I’m concerned, freed me as well.”

A sudden sense of futility swamped Abby. She buried her face in her hands. “I don’t know if we’ll ever see eyeto-eye on this. One thing I do know.” She looked up, her hands falling to rest on the table. “This isn’t going to be solved today. You and Sally need time.”

“I don’t need anything with her,” Conor snapped. “She can stay a week or so to regain her strength. She and Evan can visit to their heart’s content. But then I want her gone. I want things to go back to the way they were. I want for us to get married like we planned.”

It was what Abby wanted, too. But what if it was not what the Lord wanted? What if she had been wrong all along, and He had sent her to Culdee Creek for other reasons? What if He had never meant for her to wed Conor?

She closed her eyes, blotting out the sight of the handsome, tortured features of the man she loved. To give up Conor after she had fought so long and hard. To turn her back and walk away. Surely, surely God didn’t mean for her to do that.

And what if He does?
a tiny voice whispered.
What will you do then? Whom will you obey—the Lord or your heart?

At that moment, Abby could not honestly say. Things were not so clear anymore. What she used to accept as truth now made little sense. What had once been guided by faith now seemed fruitless and self-defeating.

And where she had once followed in trust, she now feared to go.

20

I cry in the daytime, but thou hearest not; and in the night season, and am not silent.

Psalm 22:2

I don’t care what you say, Abby. I don’t like her!”

At Beth’s impassioned words, Abby and Hannah looked up from the butter molds they were packing with granules of freshly churned butter. The two women exchanged concerned glances.

“Do you want me to leave,” Hannah asked softly, “and give you some time alone with Beth?”

“No.” Abby punctuated the single word with a resolute shake of her head. “You’re part of the family now. It’s no deep, dark secret how either Conor or Beth feel about Sally.”

Indeed, Abby thought, in the past month since Sally’s arrival, it seemed as if the battle lines had been drawn. She and Evan against Conor and Beth. She should be thankful, she supposed, that Conor had allowed his wife to stay on past the initial two weeks. It had been especially difficult when Abby had first informed him that the wedding was off. Only her assurance that she still loved him and wanted to marry him had kept Conor from physically removing Sally right then and there from Culdee Creek.

Yet, though Sally seemed to rally with the care and good food, and even had begun to help with the less strenuous household chores, Conor refused to have her at his supper table or even to interact with her. Now his antipathy was rubbing off on Beth.

“Is there something Sally’s doing to upset you?” Abby asked the youngster. “If so, I’m sure she doesn’t mean it. She’s just trying so hard right now to make friends.”

“Papa doesn’t want to be her friend.” Beth twisted her mouth in distaste. “Neither do I.”

Abby glanced at Hannah, who smiled in sympathy. “I must commend you on your loyalty to your father,” she replied, choosing her words with care. “He’s been hurt very badly, and it’s hard for him to forgive that. But I truly believe Sally has changed, Beth. That’s why she came back. She regrets the pain she caused your father and wants to make amends. That’s a very brave and admirable thing, don’t you think? To admit you’re wrong and seek forgiveness?”

Beth gave a grudging shrug. “I suppose so.” She paused. “Still, I don’t like her. She’s caused problems between you and Papa. I want you for my new mama, and now there might not ever be a wedding.” Her eyes filled with tears. “If you can’t be my mama, will you promise never to leave us? You can stay on as our housekeeper, can’t you?”

At Beth’s piteous plea, Abby’s heart twisted within her. Sally’s return had put a strain on more than just Conor. Abby struggled mightily with the desire to stay and fight for those she loved. And yet, she knew she was no closer to a decision than she had been at the start.

That realization profoundly disturbed her. Abby felt truly abandoned and betrayed by God. It was He who had led her to Culdee Creek. She knew this beyond a shadow of a doubt. He’d also surely led her here for Conor and Beth, and even Hannah.

She also knew the Lord had led her here to help her. Led her here to force her once more to look outward from her own grief, and open her heart to the grief and needs of others. And led her here to a man who—no matter what ultimately happened—Abby knew she would love for the rest of her days.

Yet just when she had finally accepted all that God had offered, He appeared again to be snatching it away.
It is not for you, Beloved
, He seemed to be saying.
Your time here is over, your purpose served.

In a confusing, anguished welter of emotions, Abby once more heard the words the Lord had placed in her heart that day she had first come to Culdee Creek. Heard and, as she listened, felt the anger, the rebellion, the deep bitterness swell within.

Do you see then, begin to understand why I sent you to them? Do you hear, and know My will at last?

No, Abby thought, I don’t. If to know Your will is to turn from the people I need and love, then I don’t think I want ever again to know it.

Abby stared down into Beth’s questioning, troubled eyes. She knew that the time might indeed come when she must leave. Too much of her self-concept and way of life was tied up in her religious beliefs. Though she might be angry, she couldn’t so easily turn her back on God’s laws. They had long ago become too much a part of her.

To turn her back on them now, even at such a critical juncture in her life, could well be her final devastation.

“I can’t make such a promise, Beth,” Abby forced herself to reply. “Though I want to with all my heart, I can’t promise that I’ll stay on forever as your housekeeper. It’s a decision that your father and I must make together.”

She almost added “God” into that equation, but she didn’t. As painful as it was to consider, much less admit, Abby didn’t know where the Lord figured into any of this anymore.

After another sleepless night, Abby rose the next morning, bathed, dressed, then headed to the main house to start breakfast. As she neared the backdoor, Hannah, little Jackson slung in a shawl at her chest, walked up with Evan at her side. In his hand Evan clutched a pail of milk.

Abby glanced from the blushing girl, who shot her a quick, apologetic look, to the beaming face of Conor’s son. With relief, she noted that it had evidently been Evan who’d forced his assistance on Hannah. “Helping Hannah with her morning chores, are you?” she asked mildly, glancing at the tall, strapping young man.

“Just carried up the bucket of milk for her, ma’am,” Evan hurried to explain. “What with her having the baby along and the long walk up from the barn, I reckoned it was the gentlemanly thing to do.”

“I suppose it was,” Abby murmured, distracted at that moment by the sight of a frowning Conor glaring at them from an upstairs window. A prickle of premonition coursed down her spine. He was beginning to notice his son’s infatuation with Hannah.

She extended her hand toward the bucket of milk. “Here, let me take that. I was just going into the kitchen to start breakfast anyway.”

“And I,” Hannah quickly added, taking her cue from Abby, “need to nurse Jackson, then give him his bath.”

Evan’s crestfallen look was almost comical. “Then I reckon I’d best be off to the rest of my chores.”

Abby took the bucket then nodded. “I guess you’d better. We’re having fried eggs and sausage, if you think you can gather enough eggs in the next fifteen minutes.”

His expression brightened. “Sure can, ma’am. Sure can.”

The two women watched Evan turn and hurry down to the chicken coop.

“I swear I’m not leading him on,” Hannah’s soft voice pierced Abby’s distracted thoughts.

Abby shot her an arch look. “So, you don’t find him at all attractive?”

Hannah blushed. Jackson squirmed against her, and made a sweet, sleepy sound. She patted him gently on the back.

“I didn’t say I don’t find him attractive,” the girl admitted finally. “All the MacKay men are handsome. But I’m not in the market for a husband just yet, and I promised you I wouldn’t return to my old ways.”

“Promise yourself, Hannah.” Abby set down the bucket. “I may not always be here. Your fine resolve should spring from your own heart, and be for yourself.”

“So, you
are
serious about leaving, aren’t you?”

“It’s been on my mind.” Abby met her concerned gaze. “But don’t worry. If I leave, and Conor doesn’t want you here anymore, I’ll take you and the baby with me.”

“It wasn’t me or Jackson I was thinking of.” She took Abby’s hand. “It was you. You and Mr. MacKay are so in love. And he needs you. He needs you badly.”

“Perhaps that’s part of the problem,” Abby muttered. “Maybe I’ve been fooling myself all along. Maybe he does it all just to please me, not because his heart is truly changed.”

“I wouldn’t know.” Now it was Hannah’s turn to sigh. “I’ve never had a man in love with me. Leastwise,” she added with a sad little smile, “not in love with the real me.”

Abby squeezed her hand. “Be patient. You’ll find that man someday. I know it.” She withdrew her hand. “Enough of worrying over the future. I’ll have problems aplenty real soon, if I don’t get going on breakfast.”

“I’ll be over to help just as soon as I nurse Jackson. His bath can wait until later.”

“Get on with you.” Abby made a shooing motion. “I can manage just fine until you’re done.”

With a laugh, the girl wheeled about and headed for the bunkhouse. Abby tarried a moment longer, gazing after her, before picking up the pail of milk and walking to the back door. Conor was there to open it for her.

“Here,”—he held out his hand—“give me the milk.”

Abby handed over the pail, then followed him into the kitchen. As he strained the milk through the additional, cheesecloth-covered pail, she busied herself getting out the frying pan and other cooking utensils.

“So, how long has this infatuation been going on between Hannah and Evan?” he asked suddenly.

Abby knew better than to pretend ignorance or dissemble with Conor. “For a while now,” she admitted. “Hannah swears she’s not trying to lead Evan on, though, and just wants to be friends.”

Conor shot her a narrow look. “So Evan’s the one who’s pushing it?”

“It seems so.” Abby took out a sharp knife, then walked to the cupboard to take down a large pottery bowl.

He scowled. “Reckon I need to talk with the boy then.”

Somehow, Abby didn’t think Evan would take such a lecture well, especially from his father. Bowl and knife now in hand, she turned to face him. “Why not just let it be, Conor? If Hannah continues to discourage him, he’ll eventually give up.”

“And if he doesn’t?” An edge of anger now threaded his voice. “What then? And what if that girl isn’t telling you the whole truth? I’ll tell you straight out, Abby. I won’t have any son of mine marrying a woman like her.”

His harsh words just now, combined with the strain of the past weeks, was suddenly too much for Abby. “And why not?” she cried, her patience snapping. “We’ve all sinned, and some stubbornly continue to even when the truth hits them square in the face. At least Hannah is trying to mend her ways.”

His jaw clamped shut. Fury flared in his eyes. “And exactly what is that supposed to mean?” he demanded.

She glared back at him, myriad responses—none of them kind or tactful—crowding forward, ready to spring forth from her mouth. Deciding flight was the better part of valor just now, Abby wheeled about. With a disgusted snort, she clasped the bowl and knife tightly to her and headed for the cellar stairs.

Near the remaining slab of last winter’s bacon, she found the smoked sausages. Her anger giving her added strength, she quickly hacked off a long string of ten thick, plump links, and placed them in the big bowl. Then Abby turned back to the cellar stairs and promptly slammed into Conor.

He grabbed her arms and grunted as the thick bowl slammed into his belly.

Startled, Abby immediately jumped back. “Conor MacKay, you should know better than to sneak up on a person like that!”

He rubbed his belly. “Never been attacked by a bowl before.” He managed a wry grin. “Didn’t realize they could be such lethal weapons.”

“They’re even more dangerous when thrown at someone’s head. Which is exactly where this one will land, if you do that again.”

Conor’s grin widened. “Now that’s what I like. A woman with a little sass to her.”

“If that’s meant to be some sort of backhand apology for your behavior upstairs,” Abby snapped, “it’s not working.”

“Abby, I’m sorry. Let’s not fight. I can’t take that, on top of everything else going on right now.” He moved back toward her. “Come here. Let’s make up. It seems like months since I last held and kissed you.”

Her love for him burning away the remnants of her anger, she instinctively took a step forward. Then reality hit her again square in the face. For an instant, Abby was torn between the recollection that Conor’s wife was only a couple of stories above them and the aching need to be held by him. The long-denied desire, however, finally won out over principles. Setting the knife and bowl of sausages aside, Abby flung herself into Conor’s arms.

Their bodies met, their lips touched. They held each other close, hearts beating as one, and kissed as if it was their last. Kissed as if nothing existed but this moment, and this moment must satisfy them for an eternity.