by Lois Richer
“Do you mind if we stop for lunch?” Abby asked. “I remember last time we were here I saw a diner a couple of blocks ahead. I’m starving and it’s nearly lunchtime. We could eat and then get back on the road.”
“Sounds good.” Zac wasn’t sure he could eat much, but he desperately wanted a cup of coffee. Maybe that would steady this nervous grip that held him captive in his half-sighted world. Would it always be like this?
Abby drove a few blocks, parked and opened her door.
“It’s on my side, right?” Zac asked as he clambered out. He kept the brim down and focused on his feet, on stepping onto the sidewalk.
Somehow it hadn’t mattered that she’d guided him when he wore the eye coverings. But now they were gone, he was less inclined to lean on her. Which was no doubt silly and vain, but that’s how he felt. Exposed, vulnerable and somehow weakened. And determined to prove he was none of those.
“Would it be easier if you had a cane?” Abby asked as she strolled beside him.
“I doubt it.” Zac lifted his head enough to see what looked like an upcoming curb. But his depth perception was off, and he couldn’t judge how far ahead it was.
“I’m here.” As if she understood, Abby slid her arm under his hand and lifted it to her side. “The café is on the next block. Another three steps and then down about six inches. The light is green so we can cross now.”
How did she know just when to step in and when to leave him alone? Zac wondered. Did he have some tell, a certain way of hesitating? Did he look needy to her? He didn’t think his steps had faltered but maybe—
“Did you once work with blind people?” he asked on a sudden hunch.
“How did you know?” Abby told him of the upcoming curb and slowed just slightly as he stepped onto the sidewalk again. “I actually did exactly that in my last three years at school. I had this English teacher whom I loved very much. She lost her sight in an accident. She allowed me to attend sessions where she learned to maneuver without sight and agreed to teach me some ways of helping someone who is sightless. She died years ago but I still miss her.”
“I’m sorry,” Zac murmured.
“Don’t be. She’s with God, at peace. I’ll always be grateful for the lessons she taught me—to enjoy life all the time, wherever you are, whatever is happening. Her name was Violet Sundee and her favorite saying was, ‘You’ll never get a second chance to relive this day so make the most of it.’”
“And that’s what you do, isn’t it, Abby?” Zac knew it was true even as he asked. “You see the sunshine in everything. All the time.”
“Well, not all the time,” she said with a chuckle. “I have my down days like anyone else. Here’s the door. I’ll hold it. Go inside and turn left. There’s an empty booth to your right.”
Zac found it without difficulty and slid in. There were huge, colorful pictures, presumably of the menu items offered, above each table. Above theirs was a poster of a turkey dinner.
“That’s what I want for lunch,” he said, glad the vibrant colors revealed a golden-brown turkey leg, stuffing, corn and a heap of potatoes with gravy dribbling down the sides. “I haven’t had a turkey dinner in forever.”
“Some places use pressed turkey, not freshly roasted,” Abby warned as footsteps moved their way. “You should ask.”
Their server poured two fresh mugs of coffee, assured him the turkey was the real thing, noted Abby’s order of a Cobb salad without blue cheese and then promised them the apple pie would be out of the oven by the time they were ready for dessert.
Zac tasted his coffee, added another creamer and leaned back in his seat to assess his situation.
“Well?” Abby asked.
“It’s better than being blind,” he said, understanding exactly what she wanted to know.
“You’re disappointed,” she murmured, a sadness underlying her words.
“I was.” The knot in the back of his neck slowly loosened and dissolved as he peered at her. She wore a green-and-white cardigan over a white blouse. Plain gold hoops hung from her ears. She wore no rings.
“But?”
“But the truth is, I could still be blind. The explosions, the shrapnel, cinders and ash could have completely destroyed my retinas. I guess seeing a little is better than seeing nothing at all.” He tilted his head back to stare at her dark head of mussed curls. “You’re very beautiful, Abby.”
“Now I know your eyesight isn’t totally back,” she joked. “I’m very ordinary.”
“I don’t think so.” Zac leaned forward. “Will you tell me about your scar?” he asked very quietly.
“Oh!” With a startled gasp, her hand immediately flew to the side of her neck. She touched a spot near her collarbone, then quickly drew her fingers away.
“It’s from the accident, isn’t it? When Ken and Levi died.” She nodded, her fingers tugging her collar tighter as if to hide the knobby marks that lay against her smooth, pale skin. “I’m so sorry.”
“It doesn’t matter, except that it’s a constant reminder that I lost my child,” she whispered, sounding bereft and so sad. “And my husband,” she added, as if she felt compelled to repeat it to him.
“I doubt you need any reminder of that.” He slid his hand across the table, palm up, and after a glance at his face, she took it. “You’ve never forgotten a single detail, have you?”
She shook her head, her chin tilted down, face hidden. She stayed that way for a few minutes, probably collecting her composure. Eventually she tugged her hand from his.
“Now that we’ve covered our disabilities, let’s discuss something else.” Zac wanted desperately to chase away the sadness and bring a smile to her face.
“Like?” She still didn’t look at him.
“Miss P.”
“Why?” Abby’s head shot up and she stared at him. “Have you thought of anyone suitable for her?”
“You do know I’m not a matchmaker?” he said with a shudder.
“You’re not matchmaking. Neither am I.” Finally her beautiful smile emerged. “We’re just trying to help a friend who is lonely and seeks a companion. What’s wrong with that?”
“Nothing, if we could come up with a candidate,” Zac said. “I haven’t. You?”
“Several gentlemen I met at church seemed suitable,” she informed him. “However, when I approached them and brought up her name, they all got this horrified look. Miss Partridge later told me she’d—er—spoken to them en masse.”
“Oh, boy.” He was afraid to ask. “What did she say to them?”
“Apparently she asked if any of them were interested in a lifetime commitment.” When he groaned, Abby argued, “She’s a very straightforward person, Zac. She doesn’t get the nuances of courtship.”
“Nuances, huh? It occurs to me to wonder why you haven’t found someone new for yourself.” Zac wished he’d never gotten involved in Abby’s idea for Miss P. “Maybe we should concentrate on matching you with someone.”
“Me?” Her turquoise eyes, which were as amazing as Drew had said, widened. “No. Thank you.”
“Why not?” Zac hadn’t expected that response, and it made him even more curious about her. “There isn’t a man in the world you could possibly find attractive?”
“I’m not—um, interested in a relationship,” she offered quietly. “Not right now.”
“Meaning not ever?” Zac translated, trying to see her expression more clearly. He paused when the server brought their food, but the moment she left he continued. “You think because your husband was abusive that all men are like him?”
“I’m not that naive, nor am I that foolish,” she said with some acerbity, chin thrust out. “I am well aware there are good men in the world. My father was one of them. Abioye’s father was another. You and Drew and Ben are three more. My problem with men lies with me. I trusted wrongly before
. I’m not going to make that mistake again.”
“You’ll have to clarify that for me.” Zac poked at his turkey leg.
“Something wrong with your meal?” Abby asked, her fork hovering over her salad. Their server was watching him, too.
“Nooo,” he drawled, stretching out the vowel. “Just that this leg looks more likely to have come from a dinosaur than a turkey.” He tasted a bite. “Nope. Guess it’s turkey.”
The two ladies giggled before Abby requested more coffee. Then they enjoyed their meals in silence. Abby had long since finished her salad when Zac finally pushed away his half-full plate.
“I can’t eat another bite,” he told their server, who quickly removed his dishes.
“Wait!” Abby gave the startled woman an apologetic smile. “I’m sorry. I was just wondering if he wanted to take home those bones to show his daughters. It’s not every day a kid gets to see dinosaur bones,” she said with a smirk.
The woman left laughing. She quickly returned with two pieces of apple pie.
“I can’t eat that,” Zac protested. But since Abby was already tucking into hers, he decided to give it a shot.
When she pushed away her half-eaten pie and then leaned back with her coffee cup, she voiced the question he’d been avoiding answering.
“Are you feeling more comfortable with counseling now, Zac?”
He finished his dessert slowly, thoughtfully, mulling over the question and then finally nodding.
“Yes?” Her eyes widened.
“I think I am. At least, it’s begun to feel more natural. Some days I can almost pretend I’m back in Mali, sitting under a baobab tree, talking to fretting patients.” He pushed away his plate and leaned back against the seat, trying to understand himself.
“Really?” Abby frowned at him. “Explain, please.”
“Maybe it was because I was feeling so comfortable in Peace Meadow. Maybe it was my total blindness. I’m not sure what caused it, but somehow I think I’ve grown more perceptive to the undercurrents in people’s voices, or maybe I sense something in their demeanors. Either way, I can usually discern when the person is desperate for advice, when they only want someone to listen to them or when they realize something is really wrong and actually want help to figure out what that is.”
“That’s because you’re a natural at counseling. You enjoy being with people and hearing their stories. And you care about them,” she said confidently. “Those are gifts not everyone has.”
“Maybe.” Zac didn’t really understand what drove his counseling except that he’d always felt moved by the plight of people, even when they asked for help in situations he’d never before dealt with. “It’s nothing I ever expected to do,” he told her. “But when Leo came, and then that ranch hand Oliver—”
“Never mind all the others who show up at the ranch to talk to you,” she inserted with a grin.
“We mostly just talk, you know,” he insisted. “That’s becoming more comfortable since you began reading those articles and since I’ve listened to the recordings. I don’t feel quite so—what’s the word? Outdated? Maybe my little gray cells are recalling my former studies and the work I did.”
“That’s all great. But who do you talk to, Zac?” She studied him as if she was truly interested.
“You.” He quickly turned the conversation, blinking to get a clearer view of her face. “You help all of us. Me, Mom and Dad, Drew and Mandy, the twins, Miss Partridge. You’re like a one-person support network, Abby.”
“Me?” She shook her head while a pink tinge flooded her cheeks. “I don’t do anything special.”
“You’re always doing something. I can feel your prayers each time I meet with someone,” he said. “And I thank you for them.” He studied her face and felt forced to admit, “Truthfully? I think your prayers are the reason that, despite my own faith issues, I’m able to recall verses that folks find helpful. God answers your prayers, Abby.”
She pushed away her cup and gathered her things.
“I wish He’d answer mine,” she mumbled so quietly Zac almost missed it.
“What prayer is that?” he asked.
“The prayer that asks for direction about my future.” She waved a hand. “My time with the Calhouns at Hanging Hearts Ranch will be ending now that your sight has begun to return. Soon I’ll be moving on. But to what? To where? I have no better idea now than when I first came to this country. Maybe you could pray for me.”
As they returned to the car and began the drive home, Zac couldn’t get her remarks out of his head. Abby was leaving. He didn’t want her to go. In fact, everything in him protested. She made his world make sense when he couldn’t. She found solutions when all he saw were problems. The twins loved her dearly. And he...?
Zac was afraid to explore exactly what he felt for this woman who’d swept into his life and brought peace where there’d been none.
Chapter Eleven
With Zac’s eyesight partially restored, he finally accepted Drew’s offer to help him teach Mia and Zoe to ride. On Sunday afternoon, after a barbecue that followed the Father’s Day service at church, Abby sat on the fence to watch the twins’ first lesson. She had to stifle her laughter at Mia’s unending questions and Zac’s patient fatherly responses.
“Does this horsie want me to sit on it?” the little girl asked from her perch atop the pony Zac had chosen.
“Yes, sweetie. This horse is named Pixie and she likes to be ridden, but only if you’re really nice to her.” Zac grimaced at Abby when the little girl bent double and pressed several kisses into Pixie’s mane. “Okay, that’s enough kissing for now. Remember how I told you to sit?”
“Uh-huh. Does Pixie have a sister?” Mia asked as she straightened.
Abby chuckled when she noted that Drew was having the same difficulty with Zoe who seemed fixated on her lack of cowboy boots.
“They’re quite a pair, aren’t they?” Bonnie climbed onto the top fence rail beside her.
“Do you mean your sons or the twins?” Abby teased.
“All four. Wait until you meet our other son, Sam.” Bonnie sighed. “I hope he comes home soon.”
“I hope I’m still here when he does.” Abby sensed the older woman’s surprise. “It’s not that I want to leave,” she said quickly. “But Zac’s able to see and the doctor said that will improve. Soon he’ll have no need for me or my help.”
“I think Zac will always have need of you.” Bonnie met her surprised stare with a smile. “You two are perfect for each other. You enable Zac to be effective in his work helping others in a way that he barely notices. In talking to people, helping them see their issues more clearly, it’s as if he’s regained a bit of confidence.”
“He is a great listener,” Abby agreed. “He refuses to leave anyone immersed in their pain. He coaxes them out of it so well that I believe counseling could be Zac’s new ministry. But he only ever talks about going back to medicine.”
“Can he?” Bonnie asked frankly.
“That’s not for me say.” Abby tried to shrug off the pessimism that dogged her spirit today.
“The bandages have been off for weeks now,” his mother reminded her.
“I know. He hasn’t mentioned that his eyesight has greatly improved, but it may yet.” She didn’t want to voice any negativism, especially to his mother.
“Sometimes it’s very hard to wait for God,” Bonnie murmured. “I’d better find Ben. We’re supposed to go for a walk.” She began walking away.
“Enjoy,” Abby called.
Though she watched Zac, Drew and the twins, her thoughts focused on Zac. They’d grown much closer since he’d had his bandages removed, mostly because he’d taken it upon himself to help her fit into ranch life more fully. When she’d goofed up by leaving a pasture gate open, given too much feed to Bonnie’s petting animals and made other mi
stakes, Zac had simply laughed them off.
“It’s not funny,” she’d insisted, utterly embarrassed. “What if I hurt something?”
“With too much food? Those goats of Mom’s loved it. And the cows scared you enough that I’m guessing you’ll never leave a pasture gate open again.” He’d hooted with laughter when she’d glared at him.
“What about that tack I polished with the wrong stuff?” she demanded.
“It looks better than it did before, according to Mandy.” Zac never raised his voice, never made her feel stupid or klutzy. Mostly he just teased her about her mistakes and she liked that. A lot.
With Zac, Abby felt valued, appreciated and, best of all, included as a competent, capable adult, something she’d never felt with Ken. The past two nights as she and Zac had sat on the deck admiring the stars, he’d somehow coaxed her to reveal things about her failed marriage that she’d never told anyone else. What he’d said after that still confounded her.
You know, I wonder if Ken may have suffered abuse in his own past. Perhaps he didn’t know how to deal with it. Perhaps all he knew was to carry on what he’d learned.
The comment was shocking to Abby, and yet the more she considered the possibility, the easier it became to release some of the blame she still carried for what she believed was her failure at marriage. Ken didn’t have any parents when she’d met him, but maybe he’d grown up in abusive situations and never knew anything different.
“Did you see me, Abby?” Mia wanted to know, free of her horse now and swinging her dad’s hand. “I rided a horsie.”
“You sure did. And very well, too.” Abby embraced the delightful little girl and then repeated her praise when Zoe joined them. “If they have horses at the day camp you two are going to attend soon, you’ll both do very well.” She’d said it deliberately to remind Zac that she was determined the girls should get more involved with kids their own age.
Judging by his intense scrutiny, he knew exactly what she was up to. She ducked her head, a little embarrassed by her own audacity but determined to stand up for her decision, if need be.
