by Lori Wick
“It’s sure a pleasure to have Ross and Abby here.”
“Yes, they’re both very special to me.”
“Is Abby by any chance extra-special?” The older man rushed on before Paul could even take a breath. “Oh now, I know you’re still hurting over Corrine and I don’t want to be insensitive, Paul, but Abby told May this morning that it’s time she went home. To tell the truth, I guess we both got the feeling she was going to be a little more permanent.”
If there had been a single doubt in Paul’s mind over what to do with his feelings for Abby, they were banished in that instant. He couldn’t let her leave. Maybe they needed a little more time together to get to know one another, but there was no way he could allow her to leave.
“Thanks, Lloyd, for telling me. I’ve got to run now. I want to catch Abby before she goes to the Griffins.” Paul rushed out the door leaving it standing wide, and in a few minutes May came in.
“Did you have a chance to ask him?”
“Yes, and I don’t even want to tell you how quickly he rushed out of here and have you say ‘I told you so.’ ”
“Oh no, dear, I would never say that. I’ll settle for you telling me I’m always right.” Her look was one of such feigned innocence that Lloyd laughed. May joined him even as they both wanted to know what was going on with their young pastor right then.
Paul rushed along the street that he had just seen Abby and Priscilla Dayton head down. They were talking companionably as they went and were surprised when Paul seemed to appear out of nowhere.
“Good morning, ladies. May I walk you to the Griffins?”
“Oh certainly, Pastor Cameron,” Priscilla said with genuine delight. “We would feel honored. Wouldn’t we, Abby?”
“Oh yes,” Abby answered absently, wondering what Paul was up to. She could see he was trying very hard to act casual, but Abby wasn’t fooled. His smile was a bit strained, and she knew he would have walked much faster had he been alone. In fact, she thought, why wasn’t he alone? Surely he must have better things to do with his time than walk two women to a quilting bee. A repressed air nearly reverberated about him as though he had exciting news he was bursting to tell.
Abby’s confusion grew as they walked and Priscilla made conversation. Abby noticed that Paul’s answers were brief, and he kept shooting glances her way.
It didn’t take very long to reach their destination. Priscilla went right to the door, but Abby hung back with a quick explanation. “I’ll be right there, Priscilla. Don’t wait for me.”
The other woman gave her a quick wave and headed up the steps and through the door. Paul and Abby walked to the corner of the house for a little privacy from the front windows, and Abby spoke.
“Is something wrong, Paul?”
Definitely, Paul thought, glad that she had not gone right inside, but wondered how he was going to tell her what was on his mind. A few moments of silence elapsed, leaving Abby more confused than ever. Paul was about to ask Abby how she liked Bayfield when he caught sight of Aaron Johnson coming out of the barrel-making shop. He turned suddenly and in a quiet voice, laced with panic, blurted out: “Abby, will you marry me?”
“What?” Abby fairly shrieked at him.
“I said, will you marry me?”
“Paul,” Abby said, her voice dropping low, her hurt very evident, “I don’t find that the least bit funny.”
“It’s no joke, Abby. I want you for my wife. And what’s more, I think God wants it too.”
Abby could only gawk at him. Where had such a proposal come from? Had he taken leave of his senses? She tried to think reasonably as to why he would do this, but her thoughts were a whirl of confusion.
All she could think to ask was “Why?”
“Because I think we would do very well together.” His voice was very logical, and Abby was cut to the quick that he said nothing whatsoever about love.
“But Paul,” she said with quiet pain, bringing up the subject that had never quite left her mind, “you don’t even find me attractive. You don’t like my size or the smell of my bath oil for that matter.”
Paul, he reprimanded himself, you did such damage with those cruel, thoughtless words.
“Oh, Red,” Paul’s voice dropped to a murmur and his eyes filled with tenderness as he looked at her, “I find you lovely beyond description. Those words were spoken by a bitter, self-absorbed man who was fighting the attraction he was feeling for his nurse. And even at that, I never meant for you to hear. All I can do is tell you that’s not the way I feel and ask your forgiveness.”
He watched her eyes soften at his words even as she bit her lip, trying to determine if he was being honest with her. Paul watched the way the sun bounced off her gorgeous red hair, and her huge gray eyes drew him like a magnet. He placed a hand beneath her chin and bent his head.
“Paul!” Abby said breathlessly as she stepped away from a touch she enjoyed. “We’re on a public street.”
Paul looked around in frustration, glad that she had more presence of mind than he did at the moment. He couldn’t believe he had almost kissed her right here before the home of one of his parishioners.
“I need to get inside.” Abby’s voice cut quietly into the awkward moment and Paul’s racing thoughts.
She didn’t look at him as she spoke, and he could see her cheeks were aflame with embarrassment.
“I’ll let you go, but please remember that nothing I said was meant as a joke and we still need to talk.” When Abby didn’t answer, Paul pursued the subject. “We will talk, won’t we? I mean, I’m always a little afraid you’re going to disappear out of my life as suddenly as you appeared.”
“We can talk if you want.” Abby’s voice was subdued, and Paul knew how badly he had handled the whole thing.
“You won’t leave when I’m not looking?”
“No,” was Abby’s answer, avoiding his eyes.
Paul hoped that she would look at him, and he stood watching as she mounted the stairs and knocked at the door. When the door was opened, she vanished inside without a backward glance. What a mess he had made of things. He moved slowly away from the house, one hand rubbing the back of his neck in frustration.
“Please, Lord,” he prayed as he turned away from the house, “help me to make things right with the woman I love.”
42
It was after lunch before Abby walked back to the Templetons. She had been asked to stay for noon dinner and, desperately needing the distraction, accepted.
Distraction—that was certainly a good way to describe the morning. She hadn’t come across a group of such fun-loving ladies since she left her home church in Michigan. There had only been a few women she knew, and those she had met Sunday at church. The rest were ladies from all over town: some with little ones in tow, others pregnant, and more than one old enough to be her mother or possibly her grandmother.
Scissors were tucked away and laughter was plentiful as jokes and family stories were shared over lunch. Abby sat with Priscilla and found her to be a woman of discretion. Telling no one of Paul’s accompanying them, she had asked privately if Abby had stayed outside because something was wrong. She accepted Abby’s brief answer without question, and the subject was dropped.
It would be so easy to fit into this warm community, Abby’s heart thought wistfully. And the Griffins’ house was spacious and homey. Abby had never had a home of her own, and she let her mind wander for a moment to what it would be like furnishing and keeping her own home.
But a warm community and possibly having a home of her own were not reasons to marry a man. Some would think her a sentimental fool in these times when many married out of necessity and not for love. But Abby knew she couldn’t—wouldn’t—marry for such shallow reasons. Then again, maybe her reason for marrying Paul wouldn’t be so shallow. He would be very easy to love and, even if he didn’t love her in return, Abby knew his belief in God would make him an honorable, faithful husband.
“Oh, Lord,” Abby t
hought as she climbed the stairs to the house, “what would You have me do?”
Matty, the Templetons’ cook, had the evening off. In her place, May and Abby outdid themselves with supper. May said she was feeling festive, so Abby set the dining table with the best dishes and flatware. May served pork roast and gravy with all the trimmings. There were strawberries over light biscuits with fresh cream for dessert, and Ross had thirds.
The dishes were cleared and everyone headed onto the back porch where a nice breeze was cooling the land and keeping the mosquitos at bay. Abby couldn’t have relaxed for more than a few minutes when Ross jumped to his feet and said he had something to do. His footsteps could still be heard in the house when May asked Lloyd to look at some wallpaper samples with her.
Abby found herself alone with Paul, who had suddenly taken a great interest in his fingernails. Abby said nothing, and Paul didn’t look in her direction for over five minutes from his place on the porch where he was leaning with one shoulder against a post.
“It’s time for me to go home, Paul.”
“And the question I asked you this morning?”
“I guess I didn’t really take you seriously. Maybe you were serious at the time, but now that you’ve had all day—”
She had his full attention. The post was in the middle of his back now as he changed positions to see her. She could feel his eyes on her face as she looked out into the backyard. Fear kept her from turning her head to look at him—fear of what emotion she would see there, fear of gaining his pity. She could take anything but that.
“I made quite a mess of things this morning, Red, and I’m sorry.” Abby still refused to look at him.
“You wouldn’t believe how angry I was at you when we first met because you were brimming with good health and Corrine was dead.” These words brought Abby’s head around. “And then I found out I wasn’t the only one to lose a mate. You had lost yours and still you trusted God. I was again angry because you were stronger than me.”
“I wasn’t strong at all,” Abby said quietly.
“Yes, you were. You kept your hand in God’s, and He enabled you to make it from day to day even in your pain. At first that was a threat to me, and then it began to be one of the things I most admired about you. That and the way you handled me—without fear or apology. If you had been weak in any way, I would have run right over the top of you.
“A few days after I arrived up here, I visited my wife’s grave. I was nearly overcome with my pain and loss, but always in the back of my mind was your face. I felt adulterous, mourning over my dead wife and at the same time thinking of another woman. I’ve done little but pray about it since. I had come to some peaceful conclusions that I was going to take my time and share with you. But then May said you were leaving, and I rushed in and made a mess of things.”
“Why didn’t you tell me any of this earlier?”
Paul looked straight into her eyes as he answered. “Because I saw Aaron Johnson coming out of the factory and got scared.”
“Aaron Johnson?”
Paul shrugged slightly. “I thought maybe you were returning his interest a little, and the thought made me more than a little anxious.”
“I’m not interested in Mr. Johnson,” Abby stated as she again turned her gaze to the yard.
“And me, Abby—could you be interested in me?”
The hesitancy she heard in his voice was heartbreaking; she couldn’t turn to look at him as she began to talk.
“Ian Finlayson was a very special person, and I feel almost humbled that I was able to know him so well. He tried every day to live his life the way God would have. I not only loved him but admired and greatly respected him.
“To be angry at God for Ian’s death would be to say to God that there had been no purpose in it, and that I could never do. A few months before Ian’s death, we had a long talk and we made a promise to each other and to God. It may not seem in any way special to you, but we promised with all our hearts to always be used of God. For in being used of God you have opportunity to tell lost ones of His saving love.
“I didn’t want to be in Baxter. The only reason I was there was because Ian was dead. And then your grandmother asked me to go to Hayward. I wanted to run away and pretend I hadn’t heard her words. But I knew I had a promise to keep, and God wanted me in Hayward. And Ross was saved.”
Abby’s voice broke as she continued. “I know, Paul, that Ian smiled on that day because he would have gladly given his life to see someone come to Christ and, in a way, he did. Knowing all that I do about Ian and how wonderful he was, I wonder how I could be so drawn to you. It feels disloyal and confusing.”
With the end of Abby’s speech came her tears. Paul eased down onto the bench with her and pulled her against his chest. She did not resist him but turned her head into his shirt and cried.
Paul held her tenderly until her tears were spent. She used his handkerchief when she was ready to collect herself and pulled away from his embrace. Paul didn’t move from his place but leaned down and gently kissed her cheek. There wasn’t so much of a height difference when they were sitting, and Abby looked up to find his face close to hers.
“Listen to me, Red,” he spoke softly into her upturned face. “There will always be a portion of your heart that belongs to Ian, just as a part of mine will to Corrine. But Ian and Corrine are not here and we are. Please believe me when I tell you I have thought and prayed much about this, and I think we belong together. I don’t doubt for a minute we could love each other very much.”
Abby’s breath caught on his words.
“Tell me what that look on your face means.”
“It’s just so new. I mean, I knew how I was feeling about you, but until this morning I believed you thought I was a bossy red cow and—”
Abby stopped talking when Paul suddenly jumped to his feet and pulled her out to stand in the middle of the porch. Abby’s face revealed bewilderment and then embarrassment as Paul looked down at her and then with measured tread slowly circled her. Abby didn’t turn as he walked, but knew he was looking at her. She wanted to sink beneath the floor when he stopped in front of her only to circle around the other way.
When at last Paul stopped before Abby, her face was dullred and her hands were clenching her skirt so tightly her knuckles were white. He bent nearly double to put his face on a level with hers.
“Ah, Red,” his voice was soft, “I like the way you’re put together.”
Abby’s whole body relaxed as she heard the sincere words, looked into those beautiful turquoise eyes, and felt her heart melt. She surprised both of them in the next instant by throwing her arms around Paul’s neck and kissing him right on the mouth.
Paul’s arms were beginning to surround her when Abby let go of him and scooted away. Her eyes were like saucers and her voice told of her shock when she said, “I didn’t mean to do that.”
“I think you did,” Paul said with satisfaction as he started toward her.
“I have to go now.”
“Abby!”
His answer was the slamming of the door. He let her go. She needed time and so did he.
43
The next few days were idyllic for Paul and Abby. On Sunday Paul was thrilled to see his in-laws come to church. Rose was smiling and Hugh was as unapproachable as ever, but they were there.
On Monday, Paul took Abby boating. She was hesitant at first, but once on the water had a wonderful time.
“You better pull your bonnet down a bit, Abby.” The short redhead did as she was told.
“I hate freckles.”
“Why, for goodness’ sake?”
“Well, for the exact reason you just mentioned. I get millions of them when I’m in the sun. You must hate them too.”
“No, I don’t. I told you to pull your bonnet down because I’m afraid your fair skin will burn in this hot sun.”
“Oh.”
There was little noise as Paul maneuvered the boat into a shady inlet.
The small borrowed craft rocked gently, and the sound of water slapping against the sides floated up to the occupants.
“You don’t think very much of yourself do you, Red?”
“Why do you ask that?” Abby tried for a nonchalant tone, even as her heart raced in alarm. He had read something in her that she tried so hard to hide.
“Because you interpret most of the things I say about you negatively. At first I blamed it on my treatment of you in Hayward, but I think it started before that.”
When Abby was silent, he went on. “Does my height bother you?”
“No!” Abby’s surprise was very real. Such a thing had never occurred to her.
“Does the difference in our heights bother you?”
“No,” she admitted slowly, “but I can’t believe it doesn’t bother you. I know that Corrine was tall and slim, and I just can’t believe you find me attractive. And I also know that in your mind we covered all this, but I’ve always been a person who needed extra reassuring. I’m sure you won’t be able to stand it when you really get to know me.”
Abby could hardly believe she had admitted all that to him. But if they were taking some time to get to know each other and possibly be married, she wanted to be totally up front with him. It didn’t change the fact that what she had just admitted was humiliating.
“You think I’m going to change my mind, don’t you?” Again he read her mind; it was very disconcerting.
“Abby, look at me. No, not my chin—my eyes.” Gray eyes met blue-green ones. “Please marry me. Please be my wife and let me show you I’m not going to change my mind, and I don’t find you repulsive as you obviously think I must.”
“I’m afraid.”
“I know you are. And I can’t promise that I’ll never die because only God knows that. But for as long as I have breath in my body, I’ll be beside you.”
“What if I’m not a good pastor’s wife?”
“You’ve already been one.”
“But Ian’s flock was small—just a handful. What if the people here—”
