Oh, I knew trouble was coming when Mrs. Sutton showed up at our house. Not that she would do anything to hurt my Abigail. She was a decent enough woman, but pain seemed to be contagious around here lately.
And wouldn’t you know it? I returned home from my drive about to find Mrs. Sutton’s car gone and my daughter lying in tears on the living room floor. The puppies, whose bed had been moved out of Abigail’s room and into the living room, all eagerly lapped at her tears while Mama Mary remained nestled into her side, trying to offer comfort via warmth. A sizable cardboard box sat atop the table, its scattered contents covering the surface.
“Baby girl, honey,” I whispered, coming as close as the puppies would allow. “What happened?”
She looked up at me with scratchy red eyes and a face to match. I’d only been gone for about an hour, but apparently the damage had been more than done.
“I can’t talk about it right now,” she told me. “I thought I was getting better, but this… this is too much.” Her eyes guided me to the box that sat open on the table, inviting me to take a look and see for myself.
As hard as it was to turn away and leave Abigail to her sorrow, I needed to know what had upset her so greatly. Inside that box and all around it were mementos, tokens from Owen’s life—an old high school letter jacket, a worn teddy bear, dozens of photo albums including several pictures that appeared to have been printed directly off of Facebook or some such site, and even an old baby book.
“It was nice of her to bring these by,” I said with caution.
“Was it?” Abigail asked me with a cracked voice.
“Memories are worth cherishing,” I answered, knowing full well that one day she’d be glad to have these things to look back on with her son.
“Memories hurt,” she said, stroking Mama Mary’s soft fur. “This hurts.”
I placed the items back into the box and carried it to my bedroom, the one spot in the house where my daughter was least likely to come across it by accident.
“When you’re ready for it,” I told her upon returning, “all you have to do is ask.”
“That’s the thing,” she said, her voice still shaky. “What if I’m never ready?”
“Then that’s just fine, baby girl,” I said, lowering myself to the floor even though it meant pushing several puppies out of my way in the process. “That’s just fine.”
Chapter 36
Abigail
Abigail’s father left her to her tears but remained nearby as she struggled through the flood of emotions that had hit her that day. She’d finally begun to look toward the future, toward her son and the life they would lead together, to the possibility of one day allowing herself to fall in love again.
But that box from Owen’s mother was perfect proof that when you fell, you got hurt. She’d loved her husband with everything she had. They had built a life to live together, until suddenly it collapsed and Abigail found herself back home with her father.
So much optimism they’d had when decorating their home, arguing over whose family traditions they’d honor for each holiday, planning the perfect wedding and then seeing it through. They’d never expected for it to come crashing down all around them—that one of them wouldn’t make it out of the mess alive.
Or that it would practically kill her, too.
Thanks to her father, the dogs, and—yes—Gavin, she’d been able to start rebuilding, but as it turned out, she was the little piggy who’d built her house from straw. One blow and everything came tumbling down around her.
She’d always been the sentimental type, or at least since her mother had disappeared and left her behind. Her way of moving on had apparently been not to think about Owen. One medium-sized box ended up being a giant trigger. Everything rushed back, the pain fresh and new and not patched up as she had started to believe.
Abigail knew she needed to be stronger. In fact, she didn’t have a choice. Her son would arrive in about three months, and he’d depend on her for everything. If she couldn’t even take care of herself, how could she care for a newborn baby?
It terrified her, the thought of failing her son—of failing Owen’s son, his one living legacy. That she could be triggered by anything and at any moment meant that nothing was fully safe, no day guaranteed.
The most frightening thing of all, though, was that she had almost allowed it to happen again. Her friendship with Gavin had become vital to her these past few months. The more time that passed, the more she thought that—yes—she could really love him. She could really build a new life and future.
He’d once told her that sometimes lightning struck twice and that each time was equally special. The truth of the matter was that lightning strikes were terrible, painful disasters. She’d somehow managed to survive her first but wouldn’t be strong enough if the lightning found her again.
One can recover from pain if the pain stops, but what if a fresh blaze destroyed everything that’s left? She’d loved and lost Owen. Could she handle loving Gavin when there was always—always—the possibility she could lose him as well? She never thought her husband dying would happen, but it had.
Gavin could fall out of love with her, find someone else, change… he could die, too.
What was she thinking? It was already scary enough to have a baby on the way. It would take everything she had to keep him safe and raise him well. She didn’t have anything to risk, couldn’t possibly stand losing anything more. Because if she did, she wouldn’t be able to nurture and provide for her son like he needed and deserved.
Sometimes you had to make sacrifices for the greater good. As horrible as it was to think about, that’s exactly what Owen had done. He’d given his life for his country. Now Abigail would give her last chance at love for her son.
Things with Gavin needed to end. Even though he’d taken a relationship off the table until the day after Christmas, both of their feelings continued to stretch and grow. If she waited, he’d hurt that much more in the end.
Oh, she prayed he would know it wasn’t his fault, that she didn’t want to hurt him the way Susie had. But truth be told, she already had a family, too. And she owed it to them to protect her heart.
She was thinking about all this, determination growing within her, when Gavin arrived with an armful of knit baby blankets.
“My mother couldn’t help herself,” he said with a laugh before spying Abigail on the ground and her father at the table. “Oh no, what happened? Is the baby okay?”
“The baby’s fine,” she assured him, struggling to sit.
Gavin kneeled at her side to help her up.
How could she possibly begin the conversation they needed to have? She started weeping all over again. When would the tears stop? She’d shed so many tears this past year, she was practically a fountain of sorrow.
“What’s wrong?” he coaxed gently.
Her father walked out of the room, and a moment later she heard his bedroom door latch shut behind him.
Gavin turned to her with a knitted brow and searching eyes, and Abigail said the only two words that pushed through into her brain.
“I can’t.”
Gavin forced a smile. It held none of the usual mirth or mischief. He already knew.
She didn’t have to say more, but she owed it to him to try. “You’ve been such a good friend to me, but I don’t think I can see you anymore.”
His pain became visible on his face, in his posture. “Did I do something wrong?” he asked.
“No, you’ve been perfect,” she said, crying and both wishing and not wishing that he would take her in his arms. “That’s the problem.”
“I pushed you too hard. It was too much, too fast.” Gavin turned red as he searched for the reason why. But Abigail already knew he would never find it. He couldn’t understand not having experienced it for himself, and for that she was very grateful.
Abigail placed a gentle kiss on his cheek—a kiss goodbye. “You’ve been perfect, but I’ll never even be clos
e to that. I’m too broken already.”
He grabbed both of her hands. “You’re perfect to me. Abigail, I love you.”
“I wish I could let myself love you, Gavin, but I need to give everything I have left to my son. You understand that, don’t you?”
Gavin turned away from her so she couldn’t see the pain that mangled his face. But she heard it all the same. “You know where to find me if that ever changes,” he said. “Goodbye, Abigail.”
Chapter 37
Abigail
Abigail was relieved that Gavin didn’t try to fight for her. She’d made up her mind, and he respected that now. She sorely missed all the time they had spent together—he’d been a great friend—but threw herself into work at the church and with the dogs as well as preparing for little Owen’s arrival.
As the days became weeks which then became months, Abigail found this second sting of loss transformed into a dull, quiet ache. This time, it had been on her own terms and with her child’s best interests at heart. Gavin was a good man, and she didn’t doubt he would find somebody wonderful to share his life with, someone far better than the wreck Abigail had become.
Then one day, Abigail woke up with a cramping pain that just wouldn’t quit. When it still hadn’t abated by dinner, her father forced her into his car so that he could drive her to the hospital. She was still two weeks out from her due date and understood that most first babies arrived late. Little Owen, however, did not seem to understand this, because less than twenty-four hours later, her beautiful baby boy joined her in that hospital room.
Her father didn’t leave her side for a single moment. When they called Owen’s mother, she, too, tended to Abigail during the labor, creating a room full of love just as she’d hoped would be the case when welcoming her child into the world.
A flurry of folks from the church paraded in and out of the maternity ward, bringing their well wishes along with flowers for Abigail, gifts for the baby, and of course casseroles for her father. She wondered if Gavin had heard the news and if he would try to stop by and offer his congratulations. It felt odd not having him here when he had been so involved in preparing the nursery and had even gifted them the blanket that little Owen was swaddled in that day.
Looking into her son’s perfect face now, though, she knew she would do anything to protect him for as long as she lived. Her life was no longer her own, and that was perfectly fine by Abigail.
When she awoke from a brief nap the next morning, she found a most unusual gift sitting on the window pane. While others brought more traditional flowers like daisies, daffodils, and tulips, this plant was all green. Upon closer inspection, she saw that it was a bonsai tree whose limbs had been twisted and shaped to resemble the far-reaching arms of the Angel Oak on John’s Island. There was only one person that gift could be from, although the little tree arrived with no note attached.
She was glad to see that Gavin was still thinking of her fondly and hoped the absence of a note meant he had moved past the hurt she had burdened him with.
When little Owen stirred, she got up from the hospital bed. Her stitches still stung, but she felt freer than she had in months as she padded over to cuddle her child.
“Look at this, little man,” she said, rocking him gently in her arms as they both approached the window. She knew he couldn’t see far yet, but he loved listening to her voice, which meant she talked to him as much as she could think to say.
“This little tree represents a much bigger, older tree. In fact, we have our own special bit of magic right here in Charleston. One day when you’re older, I’ll take you to see it,” she promised.
“Oh, good you’re up!” her father said, pacing into the room as he clutched at his belly. “If I eat one more helping of casserole, I think the good Lord might call me home.”
Abigail laughed. “Your grandpa is such a silly old man,” she told her son, who had reached one hand out of his blanket and was stretching it toward her. “We’re going to have to tell all the church ladies to stop feeding him so well.”
“I’ll hold you to that,” her father said. “As it turns out, I just can’t say no to a good plate of home cooking, but that’s not why I’m happy to see you up.”
“Oh?” Abigail lifted her son higher in her arms and kissed his fuzzy little head.
“I used my Godly connections to accomplish a little favor from the hospital staff, and well… bring her in, Mrs. Clementine.”
And sure as day, Mama Mary trotted into the room like she owned the place. She even wore a tiny hospital gown and plastic booties on her feet. The moment she saw Abigail, she broke into a run, pulling her leash clean out of Mrs. Clementine’s hand.
“Oh, Mary! Look, we’re both mamas now!” Abigail cried, happy to see her best canine friend.
Mary barked happily, but Abigail shushed her. “Not now. You only just got here, and I don’t want them to take you away before you have a chance to meet my little one. Would you help us out, Dad?”
Abigail settled back onto the bed with Owen in her arms, and her father came to sit beside her holding on to the sweet mother Chihuahua so she could say hello.
Mrs. Clementine snapped a picture and gushed, “How nice! The whole family’s here!”
“Well, not the whole family,” her father said.
Abigail opened her mouth to correct him. Gavin wasn’t part of the family, not anymore, and it wasn’t very nice of him to remind her of that on what should be a happy day.
Before she could say anything, though, her father continued, “We’ll have to wait until we’re at home to introduce Muffin, Cupcake, Cookie, and Brownie. They’re probably still a mite too hyper to be around little Owen.”
Abigail laughed and nodded, posed for another picture, then looked toward the bonsai replica of the Angel Oak. She had everything now, so why did she still miss Gavin?
Little Owen’s face scrunched up, and he let out a goat-like cry.
“Oops, didn’t know we were intruding on breakfast time,” her father said, leading Mrs. Clementine and Mama Mary from the room. “We’ll just wait outside until you’re through.”
Abigail listened for the click of the door behind them before fitting her son to her breast. As she watched him nurse, she remembered the reasons behind her decision to end her friendship with Gavin.
She needed to be strong for her child, and she needed to stay that way, too.
No matter what else happened.
Chapter 38
Abigail
Abigail had always known that early motherhood would be a lot of hard work, but she was not prepared for the exhaustion that came with it. Whoever made the rule to sleep when the baby sleeps must have had a great little sleeper on her hands.
And although Owen wasn’t terrible by any means, he would wake a few times each night to cry out for Abigail. This made it hard to track days. In a way, it had all been one very long day since he was born in May.
Her fatigue reached amazing new levels in early December when Owen began to crawl. He and the puppies, who were almost full grown now but just as feisty and playful as ever, could cause mischief together. And, oh, did they ever!
The worst of it happened a few days before Christmas when the cyclone of fur knocked their evergreen tree clear over. Luckily, little Owen wasn’t involved in that particular fiasco, but he did pull a platter of cookies off of the end table when Abigail was distracted in cleaning up the mess of scattered ornaments and tinsel that the Chihuahuas had left in their wake.
“Your Christmas present is extra obedience classes,” she told them while wagging her finger.
They all sat in a line and looked up at her with tails wagging merrily as if to show they were already the perfect little angels.
Mama Mary groaned and went to hide under Abigail’s favorite chair, but not before first swiping a fallen cookie.
“That’s not good for you!” Abigail cried, but now Owen had a cookie, too, which meant she had to choose which battle she preferred to f
ight that day.
“Ah-ha, gotcha!” she swiped the broken gingerbread man from Owen, who then began to cry. “Where are you, Dad?” Abigail moaned.
Of course, by the time he returned half an hour later, both puppies and human child had begun their afternoon naps, leaving the house serene and peaceful and nothing like it had been less than an hour ago.
“Looks like y’all had a nice day,” her father said with a proud grin.
She simply laughed and swiped the tray of recovered cookies away from him before he could steal one for himself. “I wouldn’t eat those if I were you.”
“Do I want to know?” he asked with raised brows.
Abigail just shook her head and walked away. It was a chaotic life, but a blessed one.
The following day was Christmas Eve. This time Abigail not only attended the service, but helped to lead it. Even Mama Mary and her pups made an appearance. Thankfully, Mrs. Clementine was all too happy to look after little Owen while his mother was busy with church duties. Abigail even made her an honorary grandmother, which meant she doted on Owen extra.
After church, they captured pictures of the Chihuahua family in that same locally famous nativity scene where they’d been born and first discovered.
“Happy Birthday, babies!” Abigail cried.
Owen clapped his pudgy hands with glee.
To think, just one year ago, Abigail had been all by herself. Her father had been there for her, but she’d shut him out. Everything had changed last Christmas with the discovery of those puppies, and now she and her father had Owen in their worlds, too.
Despite the added mischief, his childish antics were exactly what Abigail had needed to fill her days and her heart once more. It was hard to believe she’d ever doubted the love she would have for him. She enjoyed being a mother more than anything.
“It was a good day,” her father said when they were back at home sitting before a roaring fire and noshing on a fresh batch of Christmas cookies. This time they had chocolate chip.
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