by Lois Richer
“I’m going to try making a s’more.” She spoke from directly in front of him. “Would you like one? I should warn you that I’ve never made one before.”
“Does Drew have the fire going?” When she said yes, Zac shook his head. “Better wait until the flames die a bit. Otherwise the marshmallow will light and you’ll get charcoal.” He frowned. “You’ve really never made a s’more before?”
“It wasn’t something we did,” she said simply. A little puff of air told him she’d taken the chair next to his.
“We did. A lot.” He tilted his head back and let the plethora of smells assail his senses. “I’ve been sitting here remembering the fun times we always had on the Double H. We boys were very blessed to be adopted by Ben and Bonnie. And now this family is blessed again. Because of you. Thank you, Abby.”
“Oh.” He felt her stare. “Well, you’re welcome.” Then after a short pause, she murmured, “I thought you didn’t like it.”
“I never said that,” he protested. “It sounds wonderful. I’m sure we’ll all enjoy it for years to come. But—Mandy said you didn’t charge it all to the ranch. This...” He waved a hand to indicate what she’d done. “It had to be expensive,” he added hesitantly.
“Is that what bothers you? The money?” Abby laughed, but oddly, Zac didn’t hear much mirth in it. “Don’t worry, I have plenty of money.”
“It’s really none of my business.” He felt stupid for probing. “It’s just—with traveling all this way and the airline upgrades you paid for us and everything else...” He mentioned it deliberately, certain now that she’d been the benefactor of their first-class seats. “I don’t want you to find yourself short.”
“I won’t be short of money, Zac.” Abby’s cool voice told him she was annoyed. She probably thought he was prying into her personal affairs.
Her next words startled him.
“I have more money than I’ll ever use, thanks to an insurance settlement from my parents’ deaths.” The brusque tone was so unlike Abby.
“I’m sorry,” he said quickly. “You don’t have to explain to me.”
“I do if it will help you understand why I did this.” She heaved a gigantic sigh. “My parents died because of a very powerful, very drunk politician who wanted to avoid publicity and a charge for wrongful death. It’s a lot of money, hush money, which I will not use for myself. In addition, I also received insurance money from Ken’s and Levi’s deaths.”
“So in both instances, the arrival of the money coincided with great loss,” he said, beginning to understand. “Abby, I’m sorry.”
“My parents, Levi—” She stopped, swallowed hard, then continued in an almost inaudible whisper. “That money can never make up for the people I’ve lost.”
“Of course not.” Zac still didn’t comprehend why she’d felt compelled to fix up Peace Meadow, but he knew he needed to listen. “Nobody would think money could compensate for such loss.”
“Ken did.” Abby’s murmur shocked him but he kept quiet, suddenly certain that she needed to say this. “He was always after me to buy this or that. ‘Make our lives easier,’ he’d say. ‘Your parents would want that.’”
“You don’t think they would have?” Zac leaned back in his chair, relieved his family was busy with the fire allowing the two of them privacy to talk.
“My parents wanted me to be happy, yes,” she responded. “But they knew the true source of happiness. They knew real joy doesn’t come from things. It comes from giving.”
“So you feel you should use the money to make others happy,” he guessed.
“Not exactly.” Abby sighed. “It’s more that I’ve been entrusted, that it’s my duty to see that the money is used to bless and help others. My parents devoted their lives to people. That’s why they left their home and moved to Africa. Giving what they had meant more to them than gaining dollars.” She gave a funny little laugh. “Do I sound smug and self-righteous? That’s what Ken always said.”
“Ken didn’t get it,” Zac told her without hesitation. “I do. You want to use your inheritance in a way that honors your parents, who deserve to be honored. And I’m honored that you chose to share it with my family. Thank you.”
“Does that mean you’ll use Peace Meadow?” she asked, sounding puzzled.
Zac had a hunch that if he said yes, he’d be opening the door to something he couldn’t control. So he stayed silent.
But how he wished he felt confident in God’s renewal of his sight, that he felt assured he even had a future in which he could promise Abby he’d make use of her generous gesture.
* * *
Abby felt Zac’s hesitation in his silence. She wasn’t offended by it. He would need time to adapt to the changes this space offered. She would encourage him in every step.
“Where are the twins?” Zac asked.
“Waiting for the fire to burn down. Like you, Drew insists they don’t begin roasting their marshmallows until it does.” She had to smile at the girls’ dancing feet. They, like most kids, couldn’t stay still for long. “Your brother’s holding Mandy’s hand, just like your dad’s holding your mom’s. Your family is so cute.”
“They love each other, that’s for sure.” Zac turned his head toward her and asked cautiously, “Do you mind if I ask you a couple more questions about your inheritance?”
“Not much more to tell.” She so didn’t want to think about her pain and loss anymore. Why had she ever mentioned it to him? “What would you like to know?”
“Why are you so determined that your money must go to enriching others’ lives? Why isn’t it okay to spend some on yourself, to make your life easier?” He stopped, then blurted in a rush, “Would it have been so terrible to buy your husband that airplane he wanted?”
Abby winced. His question echoed Ken’s. And what really hurt was that underlying Zac’s words lay a criticism that cut more deeply than Ken’s ever had.
“I’m sorry,” he apologized quickly. “I shouldn’t have said that.”
“It’s been said before.” She gathered her composure. “Ken was very angry with me for refusing, especially the last time he asked. I have this feeling that he was trying to show off his skill, to prove he was above such a simple plane, as he called it. I believe that’s why he insisted Levi and I go with him on his last flight.”
There—she’d said it. She exhaled, relieved when Zac didn’t tell her she was being foolish.
“And you feel guilty for refusing him,” he said softly. “You believe you caused him to crash because he was so intent on showing off for you. Am I close?”
“You’ve verbalized it better than I could.” She accepted his judgment. She’d accepted her part in her family’s deaths long ago. “I made the money too important,” she murmured. “There was plenty. Ken could have had a newer plane without even making a dent in the insurance.”
“But you wouldn’t buy it because...?” He tilted his head to one side, waiting for her to finish.
“Because it was such a frivolous expenditure. Because it was like devaluing my parents’ lives.” She squeezed her eyes against the tears that threatened. “Because the only way I could accept that money was to see it as their gift to me. Otherwise accepting it was simply greed, like I’d accepted a payoff in return for his killing them. I felt responsible to see it was used wisely, the way they would have.”
Zac nodded. Did he really understand?
The silence stretched between them. Abby wanted to jump to her feet and race away. The rest of the group were gathered around the fire, softly singing. They couldn’t possibly have heard her admissions, but she still felt vulnerable.
“I get it. But I also think you wanted the control.” Zac seemed to be looking directly at her, though she knew he couldn’t see past his eye coverings. “You wanted one tiny portion of your life where no one could tell you—er, force you to d
o anything,” he continued in a flat, clear voice.
“Yes.” She said it almost defiantly.
They sat beside each other in silence for a few minutes. Then Zac’s hand reached out to grasp hers. Abby felt his fingers tighten around hers for a fraction of a second. A shiver of relief filled her. She was safe with Zac, no longer the silly idiot who’d married a man who never really loved her at all.
“You needed control because Ken abused you.”
The words rocked her world. She felt exposed, unable to hide under the familiar mantle of self-control.
“Ken never hit me, if that’s what you’re implying.” She struggled to regain her composure.
“It isn’t. He didn’t have to hit you to abuse you.” Zac’s words were hard, as if they were bitten off and spit out. His fingers now squeezed hers so tightly she dragged her hand free. “There are all kinds of abuse, Abby. The worst kind is often inflicted using language. Some men like that method because it’s much harder to defend against. Did Ken call you names, demean you?”
She pulled her sweater around her body more tightly, chilled though the evening was warm and the fire provided extra heat. “I don’t want to talk about it.”
“I don’t blame you. Verbal abuse is hard to rout from our minds. When we’re most vulnerable, least prepared to defend ourselves from those who are supposed to love us, it echoes inside our head and tells us we’re not who we think we are.” Zac shook his head. “But the voice is wrong, Abby. Ken was wrong. You were not selfish or any of the other things he no doubt called you.”
“We should have shared the money,” she mumbled.
“Why? Because Ken always shared with you?” He paused, then asked, “He didn’t want you to go to that market you talked about, did he? Because you’d spend too much?”
“He said the vendors cheated me.” She hadn’t meant to answer. The words just seemed to pour out of her. “They didn’t, though. Bargaining is common, but I never liked to do it. Those people were so poor. How could I begrudge them a few cents more in payment for such backbreaking labor? They became my friends,” she whispered.
“Because you couldn’t have any friends come to your home,” he guessed, not even waiting for her acknowledgment. “Because Ken wanted you home alone, with Levi, without anyone who could support you, whom you could lean on or confide your troubles in.”
“Yes.”
“That’s why he insisted you live in Botswana, though your parents lived far away?” Zac’s lips pursed at her nod. “Ken was wrong to treat you like that, Abby. He was wrong. Not you. I’m guessing you shut up and tried your hardest to make things work, didn’t you? You kept the peace.”
“It was easier,” she admitted.
“Easier, perhaps, since you had no defender,” Zac murmured. “But it was actually very costly. So costly that you now believe you can’t spend any of your money on yourself, to make your own life easier or more pleasant.”
In the distance, Abby could hear the twins say something to their grandfather, but it got lost in Zac’s next comment.
“Whatever he said and did was from personal interest and it was not true. You are alive, you are healthy and you control your own future,” he insisted. “Ken has no place in your life, no call on your emotions, no say about what you do now. You deserve to be happy, Abby. You deserve to enjoy your life, to give yourself the opportunity to live fully, savoring the blessings you’ve been given. Including that money.” He paused as his hand found her arm and rested there, his touch warming her cool skin. “Wouldn’t your parents be thrilled to know that you aren’t depriving yourself, but really living, thanks to the legacy they left?”
“I—I never thought of it that way.”
Their conversation was broken up by the twins, who urged their father to try the s’mores they’d just made. The others followed, sinking into the surrounding chairs and sharing laughter and jokes, happy to be together, including Abby as if she belonged.
It wasn’t until they were back in the log house, the twins asleep with happy smiles on their faces, that she again found herself alone with Zac. But she wanted to escape, to think about what he’d said. She said good night and had her hand on the doorknob when his voice stopped her.
“Abby?”
“Yes?”
“Don’t let Ken take up any more space in your head. Don’t let the memory of his accusations or his greed color your future. Push it away so you can wrap yourself in today and all that it has to offer.”
“I’ll try.” She opened the door, then paused. “Those are words you should live by, too, Zac. Because surely if God has plans for me, He also has plans for you?”
“I’m counting on it, though it’s a little difficult right now to understand what they could be,” he shot back, a wry smile tipping his lips.
“‘I know the plans I have for you,’” she quoted.
“Yeah.” He sank into his easy chair with a sigh.
Abby turned to leave. But a question lingered.
“How did you know?” she asked.
“About Ken abusing you?” He inclined his head. “Peace Meadow. You lavished the place with love, yet you don’t lavish yourself. It was the most likely explanation given the few things you’d told me about him.”
“Oh.” She turned to leave.
“Also, I counseled abused women on that help line I told you about. I’m afraid it’s a pervasive issue in this country,” he murmured.
“You see more with your eyes bandaged than Ken ever saw with twenty-twenty vision,” she told him. “That’s what makes you such a great counselor, Zac.”
Then she closed the door and went to her room to think about those moments when he’d taken her hand and how her heart had thumped so hard she’d thought it would burst. The words he’d spoken, his encouragement and support—it felt as if he’d lifted away a huge weight and allowed her to escape from under it.
She would refocus on living today and leave Ken in the past. And she’d pray that God would show her how to enjoy her life once more. But not only her. Zac needed to find a new purpose in his life, too.
Abby tried not to think about how hard it would be to leave the Double H and the wonderful people who’d entered her world. She’d just have to keep talking to God about it and keep reminding Zac that he wasn’t alone, no matter how he felt.
Chapter Eight
May brought lengthening days, and Abby began to feel deep satisfaction in her life at Hanging Hearts Ranch. At Mandy’s insistence, she learned to ride in the evenings, after the girls had retired, before she read to Zac. Delighted by her accomplishments, she pressed him to let Drew give the twins preliminary lessons, too. Zac remained adamantly opposed.
“I want to teach them myself,” he kept insisting. “When I can see.”
Would he ever see again? And when would that be? Twice she’d driven Zac to see an ophthalmologist, and twice she’d heard the doctor’s advice. Wait a few weeks more.
Abby did not find that advice heartening. Zac’s frustration increased, his anger at God’s lack of help pouring out on the ride home.
“Why aren’t they healing? Does God want me blind?” he’d demanded. “What am I supposed to do if I’m blind?”
She didn’t argue or try to soothe him. She felt he needed to vent without worrying that his family would hear him and grow more concerned. With no way to work off his frustration, no way to go for a ride into the forest like Ben or chop wood as Mandy said Drew did, Abby helped the only way she knew, by encouraging him to join her and the twins for daily walks around the ranch. And she prayed, pleading with God to heal this man she feared she was growing to care for.
It was after one of these prayer sessions, as she was returning from Peace Meadow, that Abby saw Zac and one of the ranch hands, Oliver, sitting on the deck, seemingly in deep conversation. Hesitant to interrupt, she walked toward the ma
in house to see if Bonnie wanted help in her garden.
“Hello, dear. Enjoying your free morning?” Bonnie’s cheerful face always made the day seem better. “By the sounds of the girls, the children’s choral presentation next Sunday is going to be fantastic.”
“The twins have been practicing their songs nonstop.” Abby bent and began pulling weeds. “I see Zac’s busy,” she said, striving for nonchalance.
“He and Oliver have talked several times lately. Zac also met with another, younger hand when you were out with the girls.” Bonnie chuckled. “My guess is both cases are about a woman.”
“Oh?” So not what she’d imagined.
“The two of them looked lovesick to me.” Bonnie chuckled as she flexed her fingers, covered in work gloves. “Zac’s at his best when he’s dealing in human relationships. He always seems able to encourage people. He’s known how since he first came to us. Grace—Miss Partridge—noticed his gift right off. Maybe because he often chose her library to inspire his chums. Say, have you seen her lately?”
“Not since the other afternoon when we worked on your quilt. Why?” Abby asked.
“It’s probably nothing.” Bonnie paused, her face thoughtful. “I just thought that recently she’s seemed—I don’t know—down?”
“It’s funny you should say that. I’ve had the same feeling,” Abby told her. “I thought I was being fanciful.”
“Understandable you would think so since she doesn’t often get down. But somehow Grace seems—well, sad isn’t quite the right word. Maybe depressed?” Bonnie sighed. “A lot of folks in town shun her because she has a reputation as a gossip. She’s been trying hard to change that, but this is a tight-knit community where reputations aren’t easily altered. I mean, we’ve all known each other for ages.”
“And Miss P.—that’s what Zac calls her—as a nongossip doesn’t fit in?” Abby frowned. “Maybe you’ll think it’s silly, but I told Zac I think she’s lonely.”
“You know, I believe that may just be it!” Bonnie grinned. “You have the same heart for people as Zac, Abby.”
