The store lights twinkled around them, and she noticed that had to begun to snow outside. It was magic.
"A Christmas tree in every room? People will remember that," he said as he pressed his cheek to hers.
Carson made the arrangements for the move. Construction seemed to drop off on most projects during the holidays. On the other hand, Abigail was working more hours than usual. He figured since it had been his idea to move into the house before Christmas, he needed to be the one to make most of the plans. Abigail hadn't seemed to argue about that. She was more than happy to leave the packing and moving to someone else. They spent their evenings unpacking and organizing their house. And, in every room, Abigail made sure there was a little bit of Christmas cheer.
* * *
Carson had met with the private contractor about work at his house. It was time to get the remodel done. Emily had a cousin who was moving to the area and wanted to rent a house. He figured if he could get the house done in time, he'd have it rented right away. They already had a renter for Abigail's house, and that had seemed to help ease her into their new home.
As he sat back in his office chair and rested his hands behind his head, he watched as his mother walked through the door carrying a large box. Quickly, he moved to her and helped her ease the box down on his conference table.
"What is this?" he asked as she dusted off her hands.
"Christmas decorations."
"You already decorated the office. What else are you going to put up?"
She swatted a hand at him and smiled. "Oh, these are for your new house, darling. Your wife-to-be said she wanted to decorate every room."
"Yes, she did. So why are you bringing the decorations to my office?"
The smile on his mother's face lightened. "These are your Christmas decorations. The ones you've made throughout the years. Your Christmas stocking is in here. And an assortment of handmade cards that you gave me too."
"Are you kidding me? Why do you have all of this?" he asked as he opened the box.
"These are the kinds of things you keep, Carson. Abigail is going to think they are wonderful."
He shook his head as he pulled out a monstrosity made of popsicle sticks and glitter. "You think she's going to appreciate this? I don't even know what it is."
"It's a star. And yes, I think she's going to adore them."
"If I made all of this for you, why are you giving it away?"
"Because I've enjoyed it for all these years. Now it's time for your own family to enjoy it."
He tucked away the star and closed the box. There was a hint of a tear in her eye when she mentioned his own family. He supposed it was good to know that she was ready for him to move on, get married, and start a family of his own.
They were moving in the right direction, he decided. Abigail would be his wife by February. And maybe they could begin on that family. The thought made him chuckle to himself. He already knew they would have a family, a big family.
He wondered if Abigail ever hated the waiting. After all, once you knew the future, how was it possible to wait for it? He found it made him very anxious. He couldn't wait to see the faces of his four children.
His mother moved about the office as if she were right at home. She dusted off a few items, straightened the chair, and rearranged the periodicals on the counter. What would she think if he told her what he knew? Would it drive her as mad as it was driving him? Probably.
It was better to let her wait. As for him, time couldn't go fast enough.
Chapter 38
As he had during the weeks leading up to Christmas, Carson left his office and started toward the tea shop. He’d had no idea that holiday high tea was such an event. Abigail and Clare had been nonstop busy for nearly three weeks. His mother had even stopped in a few days to help them during their busiest times.
He never imagined that he would be a dishwasher, but that's what he had turned into. Every night after work, he headed to the store to help them clean up.
Tonight, however, he needed to stop by the Ford Street church project first. The crews were beginning to work on the stability of the building. It was going to be a long and tedious task, but it would be worth it.
Work at the site had stopped by the time he got there. All the better, he thought, as there was no one there to ask too many questions.
Carson parked his car and stepped out onto the cold frozen ground. He would walk the perimeter and just see what work had been done. He knew better than to go inside at this point, leaving that to the professionals.
He could see that in the lower level, new supports were being brought in. Smaller concrete mixers were chained to one another to keep them safely where they were. A generator hung from a front loader.
Carson checked all the openings to the gate and made sure they were secure as well. The last thing he wanted was for anyone to wander inside.
As he checked the final lock, a cold wind blew through the construction site. His muscles froze as he tried to wrap his coat around him tighter. All the while, he swore he could smell roses.
When the wind died down, he hurried back to his car. He laughed to himself as he started the engine and waited for the heater to kick in.
It was December, snowing, and freezing, how in the world did he think he'd smelled roses?
From the construction site, Carson headed straight to the tea shop. There was no surprise that it was nearing seven o'clock, and the entire place was still full of customers.
He noticed as he walked through the door that not all of the customers were dining on tea. Many of them were looking at the holiday gifts that Abigail and Clare had brought in. However, there was a new display near the cash register he noticed. It was full of adorned handkerchiefs and linens. These looked much different than the ones his mother had purchased that Abigail's mother had made.
Abigail walked from the kitchen, her hands each filled with plates of decadent treats. She smiled at Carson as she walked to the table and sat down plates. He heard her explain each delicacy to the delighted women before she left them.
Carson went straight back to the kitchen and hung up his coat. As he passed Clare, who was making another plate of sandwiches, he kissed her on the cheek. "Is this what you expected at Christmas time?"
"This is what I dreamed of." She smiled widely.
Carson picked up the extra apron that hung on the hook. He tied it around his waist and went straight to the sink. Abigail had been very specific as to how to wash the dishes. Some of the cups were over one hundred years old, and he had to admit he was scared to death to break one.
Abigail fluttered her way through the kitchen, and he noted the smile on her face. She was in her element. She loved the people, the atmosphere, and he'd come to learn that she absolutely loved Christmas.
"Thank you for coming to help. They did a write up on the store in the Golden paper. Did you see it? We've been slammed because of it. The phone has been ringing off the hook," she said as she filled a container with cream. "I had someone call and ask how late we were open. I wasn't quite sure what to say. We’re already open longer than usual."
Clare laughed. "She's a little excited," she said to Carson.
"It brings out the pink in her cheeks," he noted.
Abigail moved from the refrigerator to the sink, carrying the creamer in her hand. "I love this time year. And did you see our new display?"
"I did. Where did you get the linens?"
"Donna. They found them in Mrs. Winters' things. They all took what they wanted and kept some for future generations. But she said they have boxes and boxes of it. She thought it belonged here where it was to begin with. I've already sold five or six pieces."
"I'm proud of you. Kiss me and get back to work," he instructed.
Abigail moved to him, rising on her tiptoes. She moved in and pressed a kiss to his lips. He first heard the creamer drop to the floor and the container shatter, right before he heard the breaking of the Prussian cup that he dropp
ed in the sink. It was all a blur as he watched Abigail fall backward and he reached for her.
They both went to the ground, but somehow he managed to get himself underneath her so she didn't hit her head.
"Abi! Abigail, are you okay?"
Her eyelashes fluttered as she tried to open her eyes. "I'm sorry."
"Don't you be sorry. Just lay here a minute."
Clare hurried to them, a glass of water in her hand. "I hate when you do that. You scare the hell out of me."
Carson watched as she came to just enough to sip the water. He would've worried that something was wrong with her, but he'd seen her do this before. As she became more steady, she sat up on her own.
Color began to fill her cheeks and tears her eyes.
He brushed a finger over her cheek as the first tear fell. "Don't cry. You're okay. Do you feel okay?"
She nodded.
He realized, at that moment, he wasn't touching her. He couldn't help but reach out and pressed his fingers to her arm.
Again, he watched her eyes nearly rolled back all the way her head as she fell back into his arms.
Clare moved in quickly. "What the hell is with her?"
"Here. You need to move in and hold her."
He and Clare exchanged positions. The moment that Abigail was fully in Clare's arms, her consciousness returned.
Clare looked at the Carson and a line formed between her brows. "What's going on?"
"I think she had a premonition. I think it was about me, or brought on by me."
They both turn the focus back to Abigail who stared at them. "It was when I kissed you. But there's nothing there. Everything just went black." Abigail brushed the hair from her eyes. "This is a mess. We need to get this cleaned up," she said as she looked up at Carson. "And did you break a Prussian cup?"
Carson held his hands up in surrender. "I will buy you a thousand antique Prussian cups if I never have to see you do that again."
He watched helplessly as Clare helped Abigail to her feet, and then both women cleaned up the cream. Managing to clean out the sink, he threw away the shards of the antique cup.
When he looked up, Abigail stood next to him with a sad look on her face. "I'm sorry."
"I'm not sure what you're apologizing for. You have nothing to be sorry for."
She only nodded and went back to work.
Carson watched as she walked back out to the dining room as if nothing had happened. Inside, his gut twisted. This was what she had feared all along, wasn't it? How could they possibly have a physical relationship if she couldn't touch him?
And why had everything just gone black, he wondered? What did that signify? Was he in danger, or was she?
Chapter 39
It was past one in the morning when Carson stumbled out of the bedroom and into the living room. Abigail sat on the sofa, an old quilt wrapped around her and the gas fireplace burning.
"Why are you out here?" he asked, but he knew the answer.
She hadn't come near him the rest of the evening since she'd blacked out in the kitchen. There was no doubt she had the same concerns he had. Would they ever be able to touch again?
"I can't sleep," she said. "I didn't want to wake you."
"You should have," he offered as he moved toward the sofa and noticed she curled up more as he sat down on the other end. "We have to deal with this, Abi. We can't go through our lives not touching."
"That's the problem now, isn't it? If I can't touch you then our fate, our future, is gone. You don't deserve this. You don't."
And that was the first thing that made sense to him. "You can't worry about me. What about you?" Carson fought off the urge to move closer. "Our future is solid. I'm not going anywhere, and neither are you. So this happened. And it will probably happen again. I think we need to face it."
"I don't know that I want to."
"We have to." Now he did move closer, and he pushed away the anger that surfaced as she drew her knees in even closer to her chest. "Abi, touch me."
She shook her head. "No. What if I black out again? What if I don't come to again?"
Carson eased back slightly. He hadn't thought of that. Could something pull her in from the other side and keep her there? This was all beyond anything he'd ever comprehended.
"Let's just start with what happened at the store. I kissed you and then what?"
She took in a deep breath and considered. "You kissed me, and everything went dark. The air swirled around me, well in my head I guess. It was as if it was dusty. I remember not being able to breathe because of the dust."
"But it was just black? You couldn't make out a structure or anything?"
She shook her head. As she lifted her eyes back to his, her shoulders pushed back, and her eyes went wide as if she'd seen something.
"What? What's going on?"
"There was a man," she said as she tossed off the quilt and rose to her feet.
"Where?" He held out his arm as if to stop her from walking any further, careful not to touch her. "Stay here, I'll…"
"No. He's gone." She eased back. "He was here. There," she offered as she pointed behind him.
Carson settled his breath and tried to wrap his head around what she was saying. "A ghost?"
"Yes. Just like when Mrs. Winters kissed you goodbye. He was right there." She pointed again.
A chill ran down his spine. "Who was it?"
"I don't know," she said and then her eyes went wide again. "I think it was Mr. Winters."
"Would you know him if you saw him again?"
Abigail nodded.
Carson went to the room adjacent to their bedroom, which he'd set up as a home office. He retrieved his computer and hurried back to the living room.
Abigail had folded the quilt and neatly set it on the end of the sofa. Carson sat down where he had before, resting his laptop on his knees. As he searched online for a photo of Edward Winters the third, as he remembered from his headstone, Abigail paced around the room.
"Got it," he said as he set the computer on the coffee table and waited for her to sit next to him.
Abigail eased down, careful not to touch him, he noted. "This is him?" she asked as she picked up the computer.
"Yeah. It's a photo from Glenn's Facebook page. Is that the man you saw?"
Abigail shook her head. "No."
Carson sat back on the sofa and let out a breath. "I wonder who you saw, and why is he in our house?"
She set the computer back on the table. "How did Mr. Winters die?"
"Mine collapsed on him, I think." He picked back up the computer and searched for the information. "Here. 1988 there were two victims who died in a mine accident when it collapsed on them." He read the article. "Justice Mason, 58, and Edward Winters, 53."
"She was a widow all those years?"
"I guess she was. I didn't realize that. I knew I'd never met Jeffery's grandfather. I guess as a kid you figure that's normal."
"Were they mining?"
Carson continued to read the article. "No, they were hunting. It says the two men were caught in the mine when it collapsed after pulling out a child who had fallen into the mine. Xavier Montoya, six, had wandered from his family's campsite. After falling into the mine, he was rescued by two hunters who had passed by. The men were able to get him out of the mine, and his family was there to pull him up. However, the mine collapsed around the hunters before they could escape."
Abigail's hand moved to her mouth, and he heard the sob escape. It ached not to pull her into his arms and console her.
"Look up Justice Mason. Did you know him?"
He shook his head. "No. I'll look."
"I'll make some coffee. I don't see us getting any sleep now."
Carson nodded and began to plug in the names they were learning. He went to his office for a notepad and felt the cold hover over him. Keeping himself steady, he could only assume that the man Abigail had seen was still with them. What did he want?
He could hear her i
n the kitchen as he went back to his computer.
Justice Mason was from Saint Louis, Missouri, which seemed to set off an alarm in Carson's brain. A little more digging, he found that in fact he was related to Ellie Winters. He was her brother-in-law.
Carson sat back and closed his eyes. What a horrible trauma for her to have gone through. In one moment she lost her husband and her sister lost hers. Then years later they would lose Jeffery too. How had the woman stayed so kind he wondered.
Abigail walked from the kitchen with two cups of coffee on the silver tray she'd had at her own house. There were also biscotti on a small plate.
"Thanks," he said as she stepped back and let him pick up his cup.
"Did you find anything."
"Justice Mason was Mrs. Winters brother-in-law."
Her eyes had gone wide as she sat down on the other end of the sofa. "That's so sad."
"The only photo I can find of all of them was on Donna's Facebook page. It looks like it might be a wedding photo of Mr. and Mrs. Winters."
He turned the computer to face her. "That's him," she said pointing to the screen. "The man on the left."
"That's Justice Mason."
"The little girl. Who is that?"
Carson turned the computer to face him as he searched the notes Donna had made on the photo. The girl Abigail had referred to was perhaps two-years-old, and it appeared that she was the flower girl for the wedding.
"All it says is Larissa."
Abigail stood and walked to the fire. He watched as she stared down at it. "He's back. He's standing right next to you."
Carson turned his head, but he saw no one there, though he could feel the air had chilled around him again.
"Can you talk to him?"
She shook her head. "I can't hear him." She stood by the fire for another moment before turning around. She looked past Carson, and he had to assume she was looking right at the man. "Are you Justice?" she asked, and he could hear the tremor in her voice.
Carson waited for a reaction.
"He nodded."
The Tea Shop Page 17
