He let out a big sigh of relief, then jumped right back into teasing her. “If you like this, just wait until you find out about the deal.”
Chapter 29
Abigail
Abigail watched from her perch by the door as Gavin brought in the last of the crib pieces. She liked having him here, liked being taken care of again—but was that enough to risk her heart a second time and so soon after her first love ended in utter heartbreak?
“Well, where should we build it?” Gavin asked, wiping a bead of sweat from his forehead as he surveyed the already filled living room with a befuddled expression.
She latched the door shut and stepped back into the house. Puppies ran around like crazy. Clearly the short period without supervision had already yielded significant damage. Little Muffin even tried to fit his mouth around a piece of the crib before Gavin shooed him off.
“I want to give the baby my pink room, but it’s still filled with all my old things,” she answered. “And I haven’t had the chance to paint it yet, either. I doubt my little boy will appreciate all the pink princess decor that’s in there.”
“Well, c’mon then, we’ve got a lot of work to do.” Gavin charged toward her old room, still remembering where it was after all these years—or maybe just getting lucky with his choice of doors.
“Gavin, wait!” Abigail hobbled after him. “We can’t just set up the nursery right now.”
He blinked twice. “Why not?”
She stared back at him blankly, completely unable to come up with an appropriate excuse.
Gavin smiled and tilted his head back. “Yup, that’s what I thought,” he said with a laugh. “Do you know what you want to do with all the old furniture?”
“I was thinking of donating it,” she mumbled, standing in the doorway as he appraised each piece of furniture.
“Perfect. I have my truck, and it should all fit, so let’s take it straight out.” He pulled the mattress off the bed and set it against the wall. “Actually, wait. You shouldn’t be lifting anything in your condition. Or smelling paint fumes, for that matter,” he pointed out. “I guess I’ll handle things in here. You rest.”
“All I ever do is rest,” Abigail admitted. “I want to help.”
He glanced over his shoulder with a sinful smile. “Well, I wouldn’t say no to a tall glass of iced tea, if you happen to have any just lying around.”
She gasped and lifted a hand to her chest, playing her part of this charade perfectly. “Shut your mouth. You know Dad and I have always make it fresh.”
“Then hop to, darling, while I take care of business in here.” He winked and made a clicking noise before turning his attention back to the furniture.
Of course, maybe Abigail should have protested at least a little, but then again, she liked this playful, teasing side of Gavin. It made things easier between them, which is what they both sorely needed right now.
After fixing a glass of tea for Gavin and some lemonade for herself, she took off her shoes and padded back into her old bedroom. Gavin had already managed to clear the dresser and nightstand out, leaving the room emptier than she’d ever seen it in her entire life. It was truly amazing how quickly the remnants of a life could be removed, replaced.
Gavin drained half of his beverage in a single gulp, then made a contented smacking noise. “That hit the spot. Thank you.”
She blushed despite herself. “You’re welcome.”
“So, do you already have the paint picked out, or do we still need to get some?” he asked before taking another long chug of sweet tea.
Abigail held her glass with both hands. The coolness felt nice even though the outdoors were still more than chilly enough. “I was thinking blue,” she said, trying to picture the room after its forthcoming makeover. “It may be cliché, but it’s also tried and true when it comes to baby boys. I haven’t picked any up from the store yet, though.”
“No worries,” he told her without hesitation. “I can swing by after this.”
“Why are you doing all this for me?” She took a measured sip to hide—and cool—the heat rising to her cheeks.
“I already said because you shouldn’t be handling it in your condition, and because I care about you. It’s what friends do. They show up and put up.” He flashed her a debonair smile, but it didn’t distract Abigail from the fact that her platonic male friend was the one who needed to help prepare for little Owen’s arrival, and that was because her husband was sadly no longer in the picture.
At least Gavin had better endurance and a stronger back than her father. She’d give him that.
“If you’re sure,” she said before hiding her face behind her glass again.
“I’m sure.” His hair fell onto his forehead from the force of his nod, and she realized she liked it that way—a little messy from an honest afternoon’s work.
Abigail watched Gavin disassemble the bed frame with a screwdriver he just happened to have in his pocket. Men.
“So what’s the deal?” she asked, suddenly remembering that he had come baring multiple gifts and promises.
“Not yet. We have to finish in here first.”
“Finish as in build the crib, or finish as in polish off the entire nursery?”
“The second one,” Gavin said with a grunt as he dislodged a metal beam from the side of the bed. “That’ll give you something to look forward to.”
Abigail could have argued, but she rather liked the idea of knowing something pleasant was coming in her near future. Despite all the years that had passed since their initial friendship, she trusted him to take care of her, not disappoint her.
And even though he had shown up at her house to take care of all manner of husbandly tasks, that awkward tension hadn’t lasted long. It was easy to fall in step beside him, regardless of what his feelings might or might not mean for them in the future.
“Hey, Gavin,” she said after a spell. “Remember that time some butthead kid drove straight into the school?”
He popped his head up and groaned. “Please don’t tell me that’s the only memory you have of us together.”
Abigail raised a finger to her chin and pretended to think about that rather than provide the answer she knew he wanted to hear too quickly. “I remember lots of things about us,” she said at last to put him out of his misery.
“Oh, yeah? Then prove it.” He set his screwdriver down, shifted himself away from the bed, and placed his chin on his hands in a dramatic display of anticipation. “Tell me five memories. Your five favorite.”
“No pressure, right?” She laughed. What a production this was getting to be.
“There’s never any pressure,” he assured her, “but I do like revisiting the bygone days.”
She thought about sitting down beside them, but these days getting up easily wasn’t always a guarantee, and she’d rather not struggle like that in front of Gavin. “Well, one of my absolute favorites is when we had lunch together at Poogan’s Porch and you opened up to me.” She leaned back against the wall and turned her face to him.
“That one just happened. Can it really qualify as a memory?”
“Well, I remember it fondly,” she countered with a giggle.
“Okay. What else?” He ran a hand through his sandy hair, messing it up even more than before.
“Definitely the time you drove into the school.” When she saw that Gavin was about to protest, Abigail hurried along with a second, less embarrassing memory. “Then there was the time you surprised me at my locker and asked me to the homecoming dance. The dance itself was amazing.”
“Yeah, those are all—for the most part—good, but you have one more.”
“Right now,” she admitted. “Right here in this exact moment. I already know it’s going to be one of my favorites.”
Chapter 30
Pastor Adam
Okay, so here’s the truth. I did not have a meeting that afternoon. But because I couldn’t bear to lie to my daughter, I set one up on the fly.
Luckily, this sweet young couple I’d been counseling was all too happy to stop by my office for a chat about their upcoming nuptials.
I figured the Lord would forgive me this teeny fib since I’d done my best to make right on it. Also, I assure you, I’d misled my daughter with only the purest of intentions.
Even if Abigail didn’t see how much she opened herself back up to the world from the very moment Gavin Holbrook stepped back into our lives, it certainly didn’t escape my notice. One moment she would barely talk to me, and the next she was smiling again. Laughing even.
Oh, the church dogs definitely played their part, but something about that young man reached my baby girl’s heart in a way that I just couldn’t. I’d seen it back when they were kids, too. That’s why I’d threatened to shoot him. It’s a father’s duty to protect his girl from getting her heart broken—especially when it looks like her heart is already halfway out the door to its new home.
Even now, even still, the life came back into her whenever Dr. Holbrook came around. So was it really all that wrong for me to try to help nudge them together?
Mind you, I prayed about it for a long time before my loving meddling began, and, yes, my plan is one-hundred percent God approved.
Now it was up to Abigail.
Of course, I was beside myself with joy when I returned home to find his truck parked outside, even though that meant I had to park at the curb myself. Inside, I found a storm of fluff roaring through the living room as the wide-eyed puppies chased each other’s tails and competed for top spot in their little family pack. If you ask me, I think Brownie was ahead of the others by at least a few hard-earned points.
“Dad,” Abigail said, appearing in the hall. “How was your meeting?”
“Good, good.” I bobbed my head heartily in case she needed extra convincing. Then as casual as I could muster, I asked, “Was that Gavin’s truck I saw out front?”
Her cheeks turned pink at the mention of that boy’s name, and it didn’t stop there. I swear to you, her forehead also blushed!
“Oh, yeah. He just stopped by to help with the nursery,” she explained.
“That’s nice of him,” I said.
“Yeah.” She smiled, and her pink skin darkened into a rich mulberry.
“Is he around? I’d like to say hello.”
Abigail stepped aside and pointed back toward her old bedroom, then we both walked in to find Gavin wearing only jeans and a few odd splatters of paint as he dragged the roller back and forth across the walls, transforming the long-since faded pink into a vivid blue.
I cleared my throat.
“Hello, Pastor Elliott,” the young man said before using the back of his arm to wipe the sweat from his brow. He’d clearly been working hard, but…
“Don’t you think you might want to keep your shirt on in mixed company?” I pressed. His button up lay discarded in the corner of the room, and I rushed to retrieve it for him.
Abigail kept her eyes on me—too embarrassed, I suppose, to make eyes at the fella in my presence. “I haven’t been in here, Dad. Gavin said the fumes are bad for me and the baby, so I’ve been shut in my room reading while he works in here.”
Good man, I thought. Thank you for respecting and protecting my daughter and grandson.
“Yeah, and you shouldn’t really be here now.” Gavin set his roller back in the tray and shrugged into the shirt I’d just handed him. “Why don’t we all go to the living room where there aren’t any harmful chemicals floating in the air?”
“Hey, baby girl,” I coaxed. “You should really listen to him. He is a doctor, after all.”
“I’m going!” Abigail shouted, raising both arms above her head in surrender as she turned back to the hall.
When she’d gone, I closed the door up tight. “Got a second brush?” I asked and waited for Gavin to provide it.
We painted together in silence for a few moments until I finally decided to come right out with it. “What are your intentions with my daughter?” I demanded.
He startled, and a few drops of blue fell onto the tarp below. “I believe you asked me that before, sir, and my answer hasn’t changed.”
“Which is?” I pressed, not because I didn’t remember but because I wanted to see if he had.
“To make her happy,” he said matter-of-factly.
“Any funny business this time?”
“Not unless she’ll first accept my grandmama’s ring,” he answered, surprising us both with the intensity of his confession.
“Good answer. Good man.” I tossed my paintbrush aside and wrapped him in a hug.
There it was, my proof that our plans were aligned. God was on our side, too. Now all we needed was a measure of time and a bit of bravery from our dear Abigail.
Chapter 31
Abigail
When Abigail arrived at the Eternal Grace Church for her father’s service the following Sunday, she was surprised to find Gavin waiting for her just as he had the week before.
“How’d you know I would be here?” she pressed, giving him a hug hello even though the two of them had worked together on the nursery the previous evening.
Gavin shrugged before bursting into his signature goofball grin. “Lucky guess, but I figured you’d come since your little one enjoys it so much,” he pointed out, bringing back that perfect memory of her baby’s first kick.
“That he does,” she answered, giving him a playful jab as they walked side by side into the sanctuary. “And now that he’s started kicking me, he just won’t stop. It’s like he constantly wants to remind me that he’s in there and that he’d like a bit more space, please and thank you.”
“Smart guy. If I were him, I’d be doing whatever it takes to get your attention, too.” He waited for Abigail to select their seats before plopping down beside her.
“Speaking of which,” he continued as if there’d been no pause in the conversation at all. “I have a proposition for you both. Would the two of you like to accompany me on a picnic lunch after the service?”
“I don’t know,” Abigail teased, reaching both hands down to rest on her growing belly. “What do you think, little guy?”
“He says yes,” Gavin quickly supplied.
She laughed, eliciting questioning glances from the family in the row behind them. “Do you two have a telepathic connection that I don’t know about?”
“Nothing like that.” He leaned in close and whispered to her, making their conversation private once again. “But I do know he likes it when you’re happy, and trust me, this will make you both very happy.”
“Do I finally get to hear your deal? Because the fact that you haven’t told me yet is making me nuts!”
“Maybe,” he said with a disarming smile that contradicted his noncommittal response.
Before Abigail could ask any more questions, the band started up. This marked the beginning of praise and worship and the end of their conversation…
For now.
After the service, Gavin begged and pleaded until Abigail at last agreed to let him drive to their secret picnic destination. Thankfully, he did not crash his truck into their old high school—or anything else, for that matter.
But he did drive a little faster than Abigail was normally comfortable with. “What’s the hurry?” she wanted to know.
“Just excited to take you to one of my favorite places,” he admitted, rolling down both windows and letting a cool breeze sweep through the truck’s cab.
The crisp winter air blew Abigail’s hair across her face, and it landed in her mouth whenever she tried to talk, but she didn’t care.
“Are we going to the Angel Oak?” she asked, recognizing the path they were taking despite not having been out this way for longer than she cared to admit.
Gavin gasped, but still seemed please. “How’d you know?”
“Lucky guess,” she teased, mimicking their conversation from earlier that morning. “I’m glad I’m right, though. I haven’t been to the park over th
ere since high school.”
“That’s way too long. I go at least once a season. Sometimes more.”
“I’ve never seen it without its leaves,” she admitted. “Do people still go year round?”
“I do. It’s different each time,” he said, pulling to a stop at the traffic light and turning to Abigail with utter joy written across his face. “Oh, but I wish you could’ve seen it on Christmas Eve when it was covered with snow. That’s gotta be a once in a lifetime spectacle. But you know what? Sometimes lightning strikes twice, and that doesn’t make the second time any less special.”
Abigail stayed silent. It didn’t seem like he was just talking about the tree, and she wasn’t comfortable discussing a relationship yet.
“So, are you on team five hundred or fifteen hundred?”
She blinked over at him, completely lost. “What?”
“The Angel Oak,” Gavin explained patiently. “How old do you think it is?”
Abigail thought back to what she’d learned about the tree. Not only was it the oldest living thing in Charleston, but some said it was the oldest thing in the United States period. She’d never thought much about it, always just considering the tree “really, really old.” Both five hundred and fifteen hundred seemed impossibly large, and neither figure changed the majesty of that sprawling tree that sat alone, an island calling people from all over the world to come visit it.
“Five hundred, I guess,” she said after considering it for a moment. “I’m practical like that. How about you?”
He laughed as he pressed down on the accelerator and jolted the truck back to life. “Definitely fifteen hundred.”
“Why?”
He turned to her momentarily as he unleashed that favorite grin of hers. “Because I like believing in magic.” His eyes were back on the busy Sunday traffic once more.
“Substitute miracles for magic, and you sound just like my father,” she teased. Still, she wished she could believe like she used to. Would the old Abigail have chosen the magical response to Gavin’s question instead of the practical one?
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