by Hebby Roman
“Minnie is a she, not a he, and she’s what we call a ‘lap dog’ back East, meaning the dog stays inside, even sitting on your lap. But they must be house-broken.” She lowered her voice. “You know what I mean—the dog must be trained not to leave any, uh, unwanted reminders in the house.”
She unlatched the crate and reached inside. “At least that’s the theory, though, sometimes, accidents happen.”
“And you want to keep her in the bedroom with you tonight?”
“That’s my preference, though I can understand how you might be concerned about your boardinghouse floors. But I promise to keep her in the crate.” She lifted Minnie out and said, “Would you like to hold her?” Minnie wriggled around and managed to lick her chin. “She’s a Maltese, a breed of dogs that have been around for thousands of years. And she loves people.”
“Oh, how sweet she is!” Abby put her teacup down and held out her arms. “So white and fluffy. And she has such cute button-black eyes and a pink tongue, too.” Her friend took the squirming dog and hugged her. Minnie promptly licked Abby’s face.
“If Kevin sees her, he’ll want a dog just like her. How did you ever find her?”
“Aunt Minerva has had Maltese dogs for a long time. She has two now, older ones, a male and female. Minnie, named for my aunt, was one of their pups. Aunt Minerva gave her to me after I lost my father. Minnie was quite a comfort, and I enjoyed training her.”
“Training her?”
“Yes, you have to teach them to be house-broken. And she knows how to sit, lie down, shake hands, roll over, and beg. I taught her all those ‘tricks’ with some bacon slices and a lot of work.”
“Really? How wonderful!”
“Do you want to see what she can do? Though, I probably should take her out first to, ah, to relieve herself.”
“Oh, please do.” Abby turned the little dog around and placed a kiss on her fluffy topknot. “I wouldn’t want her to be uncomfortable, and of course, you must keep her in your room. I don’t mind. She’s such a sweet little thing.”
“Thank you, Abby. That’s kind of you.” She rose and snapped her fingers.
Minnie looked up and panted.
“Come, Minnie, heel.”
The little dog followed her, and Abby clapped her hands. Lindsay had a tether for Minnie when necessary, but usually, the Maltese tagged after her.
A few minutes later, they returned to the parlor. Lindsay put the dog through her repertory of tricks, and her friend clapped after each one. Then Lindsay tucked her dog back into the crate.
No more distractions. She’d already delayed telling Abby long enough, and it was a wonder they hadn’t been interrupted.
She dusted her hands and held out her teacup. “Could I please have another cup of tea?”
“Of course.” Abby took her teacup and poured from the teapot. “Two lumps of sugar, right?”
“Yes, please.”
Her friend held out a plate, which had materialized while she’d taken Minnie to do her duty. “How about a sandwich or piece of cake? Elisa put these together for us. And you don’t need to eat with the other boarders—they’re a bunch of rough railroaders. You’ll eat with us in the kitchen.”
“I’d like that.” Actually, she hadn’t thought past the moment—about how hard it would be to face people, once she’d voiced, even in private, her shame.
She took a slice of yellow cake with chocolate frosting and another napkin. She didn’t see any silverware. Abby was as informal as she remembered, expecting her to eat the cake with her fingers, which suited her.
She wished she’d had time to visit with her friend four years ago when she’d come home for her father’s funeral. Then they wouldn’t have so much to catch up on. But that had been a bad time, both for her and her friend. And she probably would have said something to upset Abby’s father if she had visited.
Now was the time.
“Abby, I’m going to have a baby.”
Abby’s mouth gaped open, and she dropped the piece of cake she’d been holding onto the faded, reproduction Turkish rug beneath her feet. She gazed at Lindsay with her mouth hanging open.
“You’re, you’re—?”
“Yes, you heard me correctly.” She fingered her mother’s gold wedding band she wore around her neck on a ribbon. That ring should be on her finger. She flushed, thinking about it.
“I’m carrying a child. Just like you. Only I’m not as far along as you, of course.” She spread her hands over her lap. “I’m only a couple of months gone, but I’m certain.”
“But how, how…” Her friend finally closed her mouth and stared hard at Lindsay’s left hand. “You’re not married. Are you?”
She shook her head.
“What happened to your fiancé? I meant to ask before, but there’s so much to talk about and—”
“Seamus is the father.”
“Oh, so, you and he anticipated, like Clint and I did. But then why are you here—”
“I won’t be marrying Seamus.” She gazed at the crumbled cake at her friend’s feet. “I probably won’t be marrying anyone.” She raised her head and crossed herself, looking directly at Abby. “If I have my way, I’ll have the baby, return to Boston, give the child up for adoption, and enter a convent. It’s the only right thing to do.” Tilting her chin up, she said, “I’ve sinned, and I must pay the price.”
“Oh!” Abby got to her feet and reached across the coffee table, holding out her arms. “Please, please, don’t say that! You’re not sinful. We all make mistakes. Look at my first marriage.”
Lindsay rose and leaned into her best friend’s arms. They hugged each other for a long time, and Abby patted her back.
“Does your fiancé know?” Her friend pulled apart and gazed at her. “Does your aunt know? Does your brother?”
She let go of Abby and stifled a sob. She would not cry. She had to be strong. “No one knows, except you… now.”
“But why didn’t you tell Seamus and marry—”
“Because my aunt had him investigated and unmasked him as a money-grubbing fraud. And even though…” She paused and swallowed past the boulder lodged in her throat. “Even though we’d anticipated the carnal side of our marriage, as soon as my aunt told Seamus she was giving my inheritance to the Church, he disappeared.”
“No!” Abby cupped her cheeks in her hands.
“Yes, and then I missed my cycle and I knew.”
“Has anyone confirmed your condition?”
“I got off the train in Chicago for one night and saw a specialist.” She nodded as if to emphasize the point. “I’m with child. Not too far along, but—”
“Señora Abby,” someone called from the hallway. “Señora Abby, I wanted to ask if you’re ready for me and Rosa to serve supper. It’s almost six o’clock.”
Lindsay looked up to see Elisa hovering in the doorway.
Abby laced her fingers together and cleared her throat. “Yes, please, go ahead and serve.” She glanced at Lindsay. “We’ll be along in a minute, but my friend will eat with us in the kitchen.”
“Yes, Señora Abby.”
“I don’t know what I would do without Elisa. There were times when Father was still alive and… and… she was the only one who gave me hope.” She turned back to Lindsay. “And you mustn’t give up hope, either. And you’ll not give up your child.”
“I’m a ruined woman. I don’t know what else I can—”
“Lindsay MacKillian, before I let you give away your baby to strangers, Clint and I will raise your child. We want a houseful of children, and yours would be like our own.” She crumpled her handkerchief and lifted it to her eyes, quietly sobbing. “I won’t let you give your baby up!”
She reached out and patted Abby’s arm. “I know it’s a shock. And for a Protestant, probably hard for you to follow my reasoning.” She lowered her voice. “We’ll talk more, after supper.”
Abby leaned into he
r and laced her arm around her waist. “When are you due?”
“Christmas.”
“Let it be Christmas.”
“Yes,” Lindsay said and crossed herself. “Let it be Christmas.”
About the Author
Hebby Roman is the multi-published author of both historical and contemporary romances. Her first contemporary romance, SUMMER DREAMS, was the launch title for Encanto, a print line featuring Latino romances. And her re-published e-book, SUMMER DREAMS, was # 1 in Amazon fiction and romance.
Hebby was selected for the Romantic Times "Texas Author" award, and she won a national Harlequin contest. Her book, BORDER HEAT, was a Los Angeles Times Book Festival selection.
She is blessed to have all her family living close by in north Texas, including her family's latest edition, her granddaughter, Mackenzie. Hebby lives in Arlington, Texas with her husband, Luis, and malti-poo, Max.
Visit her website at: http://www.hebbyroman.com
Facebook at: https://www.facebook.com/AuthorHebbyRoman.
Amazon Author Page
Copyright
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are either the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to actual persons living or dead, business establishments, events, or locales, is entirely coincidental.
A Hard Candy Christmas
COPYRIGHT © 2015 by Hebby Roman
Published by Estrella Publishing.
Cover designed by Earthly Charms
All rights reserved and return to the author. This book and parts thereof may not be reproduced in any form, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted in any form by any means –electronic, mechanical, photocopying, or otherwise -without prior written permission of the author and publisher, except as provided by the United States of America copyright law. The only exception is by a reviewer who may quote short excerpts in a review.
