by Lois Richer
“Oh, no. I’m just guessing.” But the other woman shook her head.
“It’s not all head knowledge. It also takes heart knowledge, being able to discern when something isn’t right with another person.” She attacked the dirt more vigorously. “I need to pray about it and listen in case the Lord has something for me to do to help Grace.”
“Oliver’s leaving so I guess I’d better get back to Zac and finish reading that medical journal he’s interested in. Or do you want me to stay and help you even though I haven’t much knowledge about gardening?”
“No, dear, you go keep Zac company.” Bonnie patted her shoulder. “The garden has always been my best thinking spot. Maybe you could get his thoughts back on Grace. My son might have a good suggestion about how to help her.”
“Great idea. I’ll do that. And please feel free to ask if you want my help. That’s what I’m here for,” Abby told her.
“You’re already helping all of us so much. We’re so grateful for you, Abby.” After a hug, Bonnie returned to her work.
Abby dumped her weeds in a pile by the potting bench, let herself out of the fenced garden and walked across the yard toward Zac.
“You’ve been busy,” she said as she climbed the steps. “Ready for a coffee break?”
“Yes,” he said, rising to follow her inside.
“Your mom said she thinks Oliver was talking to you about a lady.”
His shout of laughter made her pause in her coffee preparations to turn and stare at him.
“I wish I knew how she does that,” he said, sitting down at the breakfast bar.
“So she’s right?” She bit her lips when he shook his head. “Never mind. I know it’s confidential.” She waited a moment for the coffee to drip through, trying to think of a way to broach the subject of Miss P.
“Mom’s in her garden?” He laughed when she nodded. “I think she goes there so much so she can keep an eye on all of us. I always figured that’s why she loves gardening.” Zac inclined his head. “You’re awfully quiet. What’s wrong?”
“Nothing’s wrong.” Abby exhaled. “But something is bothering me. Bonnie thought maybe you could help.”
“If I can.” He accepted his mug of coffee and took a sip. “Perfectly creamed, thank you.”
“It’s Miss Partridge. Both Bonnie and I think she’s seemed down lately.” She sat opposite him, liking how easy it was to talk to him.
“Down? You mean depressed?” His forehead pleated as he considered it.
“Maybe. Or lonely.” Abby rushed on to stop him from interrupting. “I know Miss P. has been a gossip in the past, but your mother says she’s trying to change. Maybe she realizes no one trusts her or believes she has changed. I don’t know. She just seems...dispirited?”
“Huh. I wouldn’t know.” Zac took one of the cookies she offered and bit into it. After a moment he paused, lifted his head and seemed to look directly at her. “You want me to do something. I can hear the gears in your brain turning. But what can I do?”
“Talk to her?” she suggested. “She knows and likes you. Maybe she’ll open up and discuss whatever’s bothering her and we can somehow help her.”
“Abby.” Zac huffed out a sigh. “I’ve only kept talking to Leo because he seems so desperate.”
“And you’ve helped him. He told me that last Sunday,” she blurted. “You must be helping Oliver and the other guy, too, or they wouldn’t keep coming back to talk to you. You have a gift for listening and offering practical advice. So why not talk to Miss P., as well? What could it hurt?”
Just then a solid rap sounded at the door. It opened to reveal the very person they’d been discussing.
“Am I interrupting something?” Miss Partridge asked, glancing from one to the other.
“We were just having coffee,” Abby said, and quickly added, “But I’ve got some errands—oh.” She glanced at her phone and groaned. “Excuse me. I have to leave.”
“What’s wrong?” Zac demanded. “The twins?”
“It’s a text from Mandy. She’s not feeling well. I’ll have to go take her place at the kids’ practice. Remember what we discussed, Zac.” She snatched up the keys, waved to Miss Partridge and scurried out, relieved that the two would have an opportunity to talk alone.
Zac would probably chide her later, but she didn’t care. Miss Partridge needed to talk to someone. Abby was sure of it. And whether Zac was willing to admit it or not, he was the perfect person to listen.
Funny how he couldn’t see that.
* * *
“You probably think I’m a silly old woman who has read too many romance novels.”
Zac shook his head at Miss Partridge, although in truth he had wondered what had put this latest idea into her head.
“Maybe I have, but for most of my life I’ve been so busy. Now suddenly I have time since I’m retired, but I don’t have anyone to spend it with.” She paused. “No, that’s not right. I mean, I don’t have anyone special to share my life with. And I’d like to. Is that stupid?”
“Why would it be stupid?” he asked automatically. “Doesn’t everyone want somebody to share things with?”
“So? How do I find him?” she demanded.
“Sorry?” Zac was glad his eyes were covered so she couldn’t see his shock.
“Him. The one I want to share my future with. How do I find him?” There was a sound of pouring. “I’ve refilled your cup and poured one for myself. I hope you don’t mind.” She didn’t wait to see if he did but pressed on with her questions. “I’ve heard about putting an advertisement on the internet. Should I try that?”
He gulped, stunned by her suggestion.
“Well, Zac?” she demanded when he didn’t immediately respond. “I’ve never known you at a loss for words.”
“I’m—er, thinking,” he managed to say. You’re going to pay for this, Abby. “Maybe first you should decide what you want in this person who would share your life.”
“Oh, I know all that. My age, my faith, retired, willing to travel, self-supporting.” She sounded satisfied, as if she’d nailed down all the important things.
Zac couldn’t suppress a smile.
“What’s so funny?” she demanded.
“Miss Partridge, if a man walked into this house right now with all those, um, qualities, would that automatically make him the man of your dreams?”
“Well, it’s a start.” She hummed for a moment. “What else should I consider?”
“Well, how about education? You’ve run a library and done a lot of reading so I think a common interest in books might be important to you.” Since he couldn’t see if she was nodding, he continued. “I think you’d prefer someone who has a music interest, too, because you’ve been involved in the church music ministry for as long as I’ve known you.”
“So I should look for those things. Okay.” He heard the sound of scratching.
“Are you writing this down?” Oh, Lord, what am I doing here?
“Of course. Then I can take out my list and check it against men in church.”
“No!” Zac modulated his voice while fighting the fear that she’d tell the community he’d told her how to look for a man. “That isn’t what I meant.” He scrounged for a better way to explain. “May I tell you how Maria and I met?” he said finally.
“At med school, wasn’t it?” Miss Partridge sounded smug.
“Anatomy class, to be exact. Our professor asked me to tutor her.” He smiled at the memory. “I thought she was dumb because she couldn’t keep the foot bones straight. She thought I was arrogant and overconfident.”
“Meaning?” Miss P. had never had time for what she called lollygagging.
“Meaning that it took time and getting to know each other before we realized all we had in common. Neither of us had a list we checked off and then decided to
get married,” he clarified. “We had to figure out what we admired about the other person and come to terms with the things that bothered us. And there were a lot of things.”
“You didn’t like Maria?” she asked, sounding confused.
“Of course I liked her. I fell in love with her. But no one is totally loveable. We all have flaws and foibles.” He could almost hear her confusion in her silence. “We’re wonderfully and intricately made, the Bible says. But people are like pieces of a puzzle. Sometimes the pieces just won’t fit together no matter how much you want them to.”
“Like you and that girl you dated in high school. Jenny Parker,” Miss Partridge murmured as she nodded. “She was most unsuitable for you.”
“Why?” he asked, nonplussed that she’d remembered his past dating partners.
“For one thing, you’ve always been a people person, like Abby is.” Miss P. sounded indignant. “The two of you care about others. You both go out of your way to help whenever you can.”
Zac shifted uncomfortably under the comparison. “You don’t think Jenny did?”
“Jenny was concerned about Jenny,” the lady stated in disgust. “She didn’t have time to coach her classmates or encourage anyone. She was too self-involved. I never understood why it took you forever to see that.”
“I guess.” He wasn’t sure where this was leading, but it felt like he’d lost control of the discussion.
“And that Emily girl. She was awful for you!”
“Emily?” He didn’t even remember anyone named Emily!
“She wouldn’t even look at your mother’s petting zoo, said she was terrified of animals. More like the smell.” Miss P. didn’t hide her disgust. “You’re a rancher’s son. You brought her to the family ranch. Who doesn’t expect there to be animals on a ranch?”
“Yes, well.” Zac needed to redirect the discussion. “My point is, you can’t choose a life partner the same way you use a shopping list to get groceries.”
“I don’t see why not,” she protested. “It’s seems a perfectly sensible way to me.”
“And how has that worked so far?” he demanded, exasperated that she couldn’t or wouldn’t understand. “We’re talking about emotions here and emotions aren’t always rational. I’ll give you an example. A perfectly rational choice of a partner for you, in my opinion, would be a retired banker or businessman.”
“Why?” she asked immediately.
“Well, several reasons. You’ve never lived on a ranch and I doubt you’d want to take second place to the demands and necessities a rancher deals with, or that you’d like it if he had to cancel a trip because an issue came up with his cattle. So I said businessman. If he’s retired, he’s finished with work. He would be free to travel.”
“Like Grady La Strange. He worked at the bank for years. But he lives with his mother.” Zac could almost see her shaking her head. “Essie is lovely but I don’t want to live with her.”
“Okay.” He nodded. “And you probably don’t want to live with your partner’s other family members, either. Right?”
“You mean their children?” Miss P. was silent for a moment before earnestly explaining, “I like children. I do. But I think I’m too old to move in with a young child or a teenager.”
“See? Now you’re starting to narrow your field, to figure out what you really want in a mate.” He felt a flutter of satisfaction at his success so far.
“What about food?” she demanded.
Completely confused, Zac simply said, “Food?”
“Yes. I don’t care to experiment with dried worms or fried spiders or anything like that.” He heard no wavering in that no-nonsense tone he knew so well.
“But you said you want to travel,” he objected. “What about foreign cuisine?”
“I have no objection to French or Italian,” she told him in a very prim voice.
“Meaning you want to travel with someone who won’t expect you to visit very exotic places. Okay, now, what about the way you travel? Hiking the Swiss Alps? Backpacking the Outback? Bus tours? Cruises?”
“Ooh, I’ve always wanted to cruise the Rhine,” she said dreamily. “I’m beginning to understand what you mean, Zac. I need to be more focused about what I expect from a partner, and what I will and won’t tolerate.”
“Tolerate wasn’t exactly—” He gave up trying to explain his intended meaning at the sound of her footsteps tapping across the hardwood floor. “Miss Partridge?” he called.
“Just pulling on my sweater,” she said. “Thank you so much for your help, dear. You’ve given me very clear direction of the path I want to pursue.”
“Um—” Zac hesitated, but in the end he knew he had to just say it. Otherwise he’d have steered the woman totally wrong. “Pursuing may not be exactly the way to go about things,” he warned.
“No, of course not.” He heard the door creak open and waited, hoping she wouldn’t just leave. Relief surged when she spoke again. “Our talk has narrowed my perspective, made me reconsider the men I’ve chosen as possible candidates.”
Still not what he’d aimed for. Zac opened his mouth to restate but Miss P. spoke first.
“I’m not sure how Abby does it,” she said thoughtfully.
“Abby?” He frowned, trying not to stiffen. Surely she wasn’t going to criticize his nurse. “What do you mean? Does what?”
“Gets everyone to notice her. She’s stunning, so naturally everyone stops and stares at her, especially men. They seem to flock to her,” Miss P. said wistfully. Then she hurriedly added, “But it’s not just Abby’s physical beauty. She has this—what should I call it? Poise? Inner direction? Maybe confidence?”
“Sometimes people seem outwardly confident but hide their inner doubts,” Zac said quietly.
“Not Abby. I don’t know how to phrase it, but she’s so warm and friendly. Whenever I speak with her, I have this certainty that she will listen, understand and offer a helpful response to whatever I tell her.” The lady sighed. “I wish I was more like her. Abby is someone very special and we are blessed that she’s come to live among us.”
Having said her piece, Miss Partridge departed, leaving the door open so the sun warmed his face.
A longing to see Abby for himself swept over Zac. He felt he knew her well. After all, they spent a lot of time together, both because of the twins and while she treated his eyes. But she also read to him and shared her thoughts on the medical journals. She kept him up to date on what was happening around the ranch, told him if the girls needed something and arranged projects so he could engage with his children and share their world in a small way despite his blindness.
And yet, Miss Partridge’s comments made him feel that aside from realizing she’d been abused, he’d never probed beneath the surface, had only occasionally seen past the person Abby showed to the world, the put-together woman his guest had just described.
Somewhere deep inside, the urge grew into a desperate need to understand exactly who Abby was, almost in the same way Miss Partridge wanted to find a soul mate, someone who understood her with all the pretense stripped away.
So Zac had to ask himself if that meant he was ready to get involved in a personal relationship with Abby, more personal than anything they’d shared thus far?
Wait! Something inside him screamed a reminder that he shouldn’t push forward until he found out if he’d ever see again.
Of course, if Abby was as beautiful as everyone said, she’d hardly want to be involved with a blind man.
Chapter Nine
The following week, Abby sat on the deck of the log house enjoying a midmorning break with Zac, amazed by how natural it felt to be here, with him.
“Your parents are healing so well,” she said, spying the couple working together in the garden. “When I applied ointment on your mom’s arms yesterday, I noticed she’s regained almost c
omplete dexterity in her fingers and wrists.”
“And Dad?” Zac leaned forward, obviously concerned.
“Oh, he’s also doing great. He even insisted on wearing his cowboy boots yesterday.” She chuckled. “I think that once Ben got those battered boots back on his feet, he felt less like an invalid, as he so disparagingly called it, and more like the ranch boss man.”
“Yeah. They were both lucky.” Zac frowned, cupping his mug in his hands as he spoke.
“No, they are blessed,” she corrected firmly. “God has been with them the whole time, Zac.”
“Except when it happened,” he muttered, but not so quietly that she didn’t hear.
“You know that isn’t true.” Abby couldn’t let his negativity pass. “You say that, but you of all people know the truth of God’s presence. He is with us all the time. You’ve experienced it in your own life, I’m sure. Yet you keep clinging to this—this grudge against God.” She couldn’t stop herself from reminding him, “Stuff happens, Zac, but the speed bumps in life don’t define our faith or God. It’s what we do with the bad stuff that matters.”
Zoe and Mia played happily on the nearby swing set, squealing with joy as they soared upward. Their laughter was music to Abby’s ears. His children seemed to have let go of any bad memories. Why couldn’t Zac?
“It’s not that easy for me to simply accept that I had to lose my eyesight or that my parents had to suffer horribly when they were burned in the tack barn fire. God let it happen. He for sure didn’t stop it.” A muscle in his jaw flickered. “You’re going to remind me that I saw suffering a thousand times before in my work and managed to deal with it when it was someone else. So why can’t I accept it in my own life?” He grimaced. “I don’t know why, but I just can’t accept that God allowed those guerillas to destroy everything.”
“I didn’t say it would be easy to move past,” she assured him soothingly. “Only—are you sure it isn’t more a case of I won’t forget? I overheard you suggest to Leo that he concentrate on the future. You don’t think the same advice applies to you?”
