by Clay, Verna
"Oh, please come in," she gushed. "Abigail is here. She's such a sweetheart, I had a feeling you'd be coming after her." A male servant hovered nearby and Mrs. Willowood dismissed him kindly.
Brant followed the woman indoors breathing a sigh of relief while Mrs. Willowood continued her running conversation without taking a breath.
"The poor dear showed up exhausted last night and shared everything that's happened. I tried to comfort her because I lost a child myself and a couple of grandchildren. I explained that it takes time and family to heal, but she's so distraught I fear she cried all night. She hasn't come out of her room–"
Brant interrupted, "Will you please take me to her now?"
"Yes, of course. I think you're just what she needs. She told me many times of her love for you."
Brant's heart twisted. "That love is mutual, ma'am."
"I can certainly see that. Come with me."
Mrs. Willowood finally stopped talking while leading him up a winding staircase. At the end of the second story hallway, she placed her hands on her pink cheeks, inhaled a deep breath, and then knocked on a door.
A soft voice said, "Yes?"
"Abigail, its Ann Willowood. May I come in?"
"Yes. Of course," Abby responded weakly.
Mrs. Willowood opened the door. "Dear heart, you have a visitor."
Brant stepped inside the room with his hat in hand. Abby lay back on pillows in a bed that swallowed her up. Her eyes widened and big tears pooled when she saw him.
Mrs. Willowood said, "I'll leave you two alone," and closed the door.
Brant watched Abby brush jerkily at her tears.
Placing his hat on a nearby dresser, he slowly approached until he stood at the foot of the bed. Abby kept swiping at tears. Walking to the side of the bed, he sat on it and drank in her lovely face. "Honey, I've got to say some things I should have said long ago." He reached for her small hand and pulled it against his heart. "Do you feel how fast my heart is beating?"
She didn't respond and didn't look at him.
"It only beats like that for you. After Molly died, I didn't think I could love that way again. But I was wrong. I love you, Abby. I should have told you sooner, but I was still coming to terms with my loss. During the cattle drive, I realized how precious you are to me, and I was going to show you in a special way by taking you on a picnic and revealing my heart. But…"
Abby sobbed.
Softly, he said, "Sweetheart, we can get through this together." He paused because his heart was bursting with sadness and love. Unable to hold his emotions inside he swallowed and said through tears. "Abby, forgive me for not being more sensitive to you. I should have taken you away from the house and not expected you to resume daily living until you were stronger." He brought her hand to his lips. "I'm so sorry."
* * *
Abby looked at Brant kissing her hand and something inside her suddenly comprehended his words. No longer was she the mail order bride married for the purpose of raising children, she was the beloved wife and mother of a family who needed her. And right now her husband needed her. Together they could restore each other. Lifting to her knees, she wrapped her arms around him and whispered comforting words. Moving her mouth to his, she gently kissed him and he laid her across the bed, returning her kisses. Comforting words, watered by tears, sprouted the seeds of recovery for both of them. Finally, with bodies entwined, Abby slept her first peaceful sleep in weeks. When she awoke, shadows slanted across the room and she felt Brant stir beside her. She raised her head to gaze into his eyes. Slowly, he smiled and she smiled back.
"Are you hungry?" he asked.
"Starving."
"That's just what I wanted to hear. You need to gain your weight back."
Nuzzling her lips against his throat, she wanted to stay like this for hours longer, but her stomach growled loudly.
Brant sat on the side of the bed. "Abby, I don't want you coming home just yet. I want you to stay here for awhile. You need this time away."
"But Brant, the children–"
He turned and placed his finger over her lips.
"I'll visit every weekend until it's time for you to come home. Believe me, I want you home, but not at the sacrifice of your physical and emotional wellbeing. Luke and Jenny will understand. "
Because she knew he was right, she didn't argue.
The next day, Abby kissed Brant goodbye while Mr. and Mrs. Willowood stood beside her offering comfort.
True to his word, he arrived every Saturday morning and she ran to meet him, disregarding the rules of decorum and throwing herself into his arms. Whenever she expressed guilt at not being home to care for Jenny and Luke, he kissed her concerns away.
During his visits, Brant was able to discuss with Mr. Willowood the plight of his neighbors losing their homes in foreclosure. The good man became enraged by practices he said were unethical and, to the delight of those affected, began filing complaints against the bank and responding to the foreclosure notices.
Often, Brant and Abby would sit on the porch swing and mull over the changing times. "You know, Abby, I think I need to try raising some of the new breeds of cattle. The market for Longhorns isn't what it used to be." He entwined his fingers with hers and said matter-of-factly, "Change is difficult, but inescapable."
On the Saturday of Brant's third visit, Abby knew she was ready to resume her life. While they lay in bed that night, she said, "I'm ready to go home."
He tightened his arms around her. "Honey, I'll bring the buckboard next week if you're sure. However, I can wait as long as needed."
"I'm sure. But there's something we haven't discussed."
He kissed her forehead. "What's that?"
"Money."
Brant chuckled—a response she hadn't expected.
She rose on her elbow and looked questioningly at him.
He twirled a lock of her hair around his finger. "Quite frankly, that was the least of my concerns when you left. But you're right; we do need to discuss it. Honestly, it bothers me that I wasn't able to provide for my family from the sale of my cattle. But in my frustration, I neglected to realize something that you pointed out in your letter."
Abby held her breath and waited.
"Like you said, you needed to do what you did. You're a giving person, and when you're denied that opportunity, you're not fulfilled. In my pride, I refused to see that. When I finally did, a light went on. I'm not saying I'm happy that my wife paid off our mortgage when I couldn't, but I'm coming to terms with it because it's about so much more than money."
His understanding words lifted the final veil in Abby's heart and she crushed her mouth over his, kissing him repeatedly.
He murmured his delight and rolled her onto her back. "I don't want to talk about money anymore. I just want to kiss you, love."
Chapter 19: Homecoming
Happiness and nervousness mingled in Abby's heart when Brant pulled the buckboard into Two Rivers. He said, "Abby, I'm going to stop by the church. If Mick and Cora are still there we can pick Luke and Jenny up." He squeezed her knee. "Are you nervous?"
She placed her hand over his. "Yes. I'm excited to be home and nervous at the same time."
A few minutes later, he reined the horses to the front of the church. "Looks like everyone's still here. Wait while I peek inside to see if the service is over."
Abby nodded and clasped her hands tightly in her lap. She watched Brant crack the door and then slip inside. Almost immediately he returned to lift her off the buckboard.
"Service is over. Let's say hello."
Abby placed her hand on his arm and tugged him to a stop. "What if the children think I'm a coward for leaving?"
Brant brushed a wayward strand of her hair back. "Not gonna happen. They've been excited ever since they learned about your homecoming." He reached for her hand, tucked it in the crook of his arm, and started forward again.
Pausing in the doorway, he smiled down at her before opening the doo
r and stepping aside for her to enter. Abby held her breath and walked into the sanctuary.
Unexpectedly, voices shouted, "Welcome home, Abby!"
Abby placed her hand over her heart when she saw the hand painted sign hanging above the pulpit.
ABBY, WELCOME HOME! WE MISSED YOU!
Brant laughed and led her down the aisle. Tears sprang to her eyes as neighbor after neighbor approached and welcomed her back—Mina Priestly, Mick and Cora McGregor, Neal and Lita Brandon, Vera Simpson, Kathryn Nantucket, Sadie Thomas, Clyde Jenkins, Jed the blacksmith, Mr. and Mrs. Snodgrass, and many more. Even Lola Pitts and her parents were there.
Pastor Merriweather announced, "This is a celebration and one thing we know how to do in Two Rivers is celebrate. Where are you Charlie? We need a song!"
Toothless Charlie stepped from the sidelines and, instead of speaking to Abby, pulled her into a bear hug. She laid her head against his shoulder unable to prevent tears for both their losses, but also tears of thanksgiving that his kind words had paved the way for her recovery. He released her, swiped his own eyes, and walked to the piano where Mrs. Merriweather had settled on the bench. He nodded and she began playing a happy tune that he sang in perfect pitch.
Abby glanced around for Jenny and Luke. Brant grinned and enfolded her hand in his. "Come with me, sweetheart." He pulled her through the parishioners and toward the back door of the church. Everyone seemed to understand his intent and didn't interrupt their progress.
Stepping outside, he pointed to the big oak with the tree swing. "They've been waiting for you."
Jenny sat on the swing and Luke pushed her. A sob caught in Abby's throat as she ran forward.
Jenny pushed her heels into the ground to stop the swing's motion and jumped off so she could run to throw her arms around Abby. "Mama!" she cried. "I love you. I'm so happy you’re home!"
Abby held her little girl tightly. "My precious daughter, I'm so sorry I left the way I did."
"Oh Mama, it's okay because you're better!"
Abby kissed the top of Jenny's head and looked toward Luke still standing behind the swing. "Jenny, I need to talk to Luke."
Jenny nodded her understanding and stepped beside her pa. He placed his arm around her shoulders and encouraged Abby with his eyes.
Stepping purposefully forward, Abby approached Luke. He held her gaze for a second and then fidgeted, looking at the ground. When she stood in front of him, she could see tears glistening as he rapidly blinked. Silently, she placed her arms around him and he melted against her, sobbing, "I'm so sorry for the way I treated you."
"Oh, Luke, and I'm sorry for leaving you when you needed me. Can we forgive each other and become a family?"
"Yes, Ma," he choked, and clung to her.
Abby felt other arms encircling her when Brant and Jenny joined them. Together the family wept and hugged and encouraged one another.
After a long time, Brant said, "Luke, tell Abby your news."
Abby looked at her son's face, no longer sullen and unreadable. With a big smile, he said, "I won the Philadelphia Inquirer's writing contest!"
Epilogue
1888
On a lovely summer day, Brant said, "Is everyone ready?"
"Yes, Pa," Luke said, and waved the paper in his hand.
"I am, too." Jenny held up the picture she'd drawn.
Wally barked.
"Let's go," said Abby.
Brant lifted their six week old son from her arms. "Okay. Let's do it."
Together the family left the cabin and followed the short trail to the sturdy oak where Molly and Ty rested in eternal peace. Jenny picked wild flowers during the stroll and when they arrived, laid a bouquet beside each stone.
Brant nodded at Luke and he lifted his first-place certificate. "Ma and Ty, last year I won a writing contest and now the newspaper wants me to write some serialized stories for them. If it weren't for Abby, I wouldn't have this opportunity. She's a real good ma." Luke looked at his sister. "Your turn."
Jenny laid her drawing on the space between the graves. "Ma and Ty, I've been drawing a lot and Pa and Mama Abby think I'm pretty good. I drew a picture of all of us here today. I don't feel as sad as I did before because we're all happy and you and Ty are watching from heaven." She glanced at her pa and nodded that it was his turn.
Brant stretched his arms out with the baby. "Me and Abby have a son." His voice broke, "I loved you both so much. After your deaths, Abby made me want to live again. This life doesn't always go the way we planned, but the one thing that never changes is love. It's eternal. Molly and Ty, you are forever with us." He hugged the baby back against his heart and looked at Abby.
Abby stepped forward. "Ty, I think of you everyday with a heart full of love. For the rest of my days I will find joy in memories of our short time together and when I leave this life, I will hold you again. Molly, I love Brant and promise to do everything in my power to fulfill my wedding vows. Although we've never met, I know you through the character you instilled in your children and the love you inspired in Brant. Thank you."
Brant pulled Abby close to his side and Jenny and Luke stood on either side of them. Jenny bent to pick up her drawing. Suddenly, two butterflies flitted above the graves before one landed on Molly's stone and the other on Ty's. Jenny pointed to her picture and said excitedly, "There they are."
Abby, Brant, and Luke gazed at the drawing. On each headstone a butterfly rested. After their initial shock, the hillside echoed with laughter.
Author's Note
When I started this story, I had no intention of it becoming a series. However, toward the end of writing Abby and Brant's romance, Luke began sharing how he met and fell in love with Angel. I wasn't ready to let the characters go, so I gave in to Luke's beseeching that I listen to him. When he told me that he became a Mail Order Groom, I was hooked. The fact that a woman would advertise for a husband was just too audacious!
He even gave me the title for his book, Broken Angel. He also suggested the name of the series, Unconventional.
In writing Luke and Angel's romance, I was able to revisit the characters from Abby: Mail Order Bride. Please continue reading for an excerpt of book two in this series.
On a final note, I'm really excited to announce that I now have three audio books available: Abby: Mail Order Bride; Broken Angel, and Cry of the West: Hallie.
As always, I love hearing from readers so don't be shy.
[email protected]
Broken Angel (Excerpt)
Unconventional Series
Chapter One: Angel in Need
Luke Samson followed the waiter in the expensive restaurant to a tiny table for one. After a month's visit with his family in Two Rivers, a small town south of Dallas, he was ready to kick back and enjoy a steak dinner with all the trimmings. Although his stepmother had fed him well, no one prepared steaks like Porter's Steak and Ale. Every time he was in Dallas he ate at the popular restaurant.
Dimly lit by gas lamps, a certain mysterious charm hovered over the tables and patrons. Making himself comfortable at his corner table, he stretched his long frame, thinking about the next installment of the series he was writing. His stories were in demand and he grinned, remembering how his beloved stepmother had asked him at the age of fourteen to enter a writing contest sponsored by the Philadelphia Inquirer. He had balked at her request but his father had insisted he enter. To his amazement, he had won the contest and shortly thereafter been asked to write serializations. Over the years, popularity for his adventure tales had increased and his stories were widely circulated. Generally, he wrote a twenty-part series that was eventually published in book collections of five stories each. Now, at the youthful age of twenty-five, he had amassed a small fortune.
His waiter returned with a mug of ale and he placed his order: steak—rare, baked potato and hot bread, both dripping with butter, green beans, salad, and a large slice of his favorite dessert, apple pie.
Settling back again, he closed h
is eyes and smiled, reminiscing his visit with his family. His father, as strong and active as ever, still behaved like a lovesick schoolboy around Abby, his stepmother for over ten years now. His brothers, nine year old James and seven year old Rusty, had him chuckling aloud. Had he, himself, been that mischievous?
The only person he hadn't seen during his visit was his sister, Jenny. Now twenty-one, she had refused to marry any of the suitors who had come courting, instead choosing to travel to New York to study art at a respected academy. When his father had shown him Jenny's latest paintings, he had stood riveted by her portrayals of country scenes that always made him feel as if he could step into them.
Taking another sip of ale, he switched his thoughts to a classified advertisement he had read that morning in the Dallas Morning News and shook his head. Never had he read anything so blatant.
Mrs. Angel St. Clair, a widow, is seeking a husband to accompany her to California. Said husband will be paid handsomely for the escort and then released from matrimony after safely depositing Mrs. St. Clair at her destination.
Luke shook his head. The woman must be desperate to have to advertise for a husband, and the fact that it would end in divorce, simply boggled his mind. The posting made no sense.
Absentmindedly, he heard chairs scraping and patrons being seated behind him. He paid little attention until he heard a gentleman say, "Now, Mrs. St. Clair, may I call you Angel?"
A woman with a voice as smooth as aged brandy said, "Mr. Pinkle, I do not seek to offend you, but I would prefer being called Mrs. St. Clair, for the time being, at least."
The gentleman sounded slightly offended when he responded in his nasally voice. "Of course, as you wish." He continued, "Now as I was saying at our previous dinner engagement, I believe I am the perfect husband to protect you on your journey to California. I have traveled there before and I am aware of the perils that could befall a woman traveling alone. I would protect you with my life."
