by Caroline Lee
Abigail missed them all so much, she ached. She missed the way Uma would get so frustrated with her inability to learn to cook, so they’d always made her be the one to wash the dishes. She missed Xenia’s passionate stories about the injustices of the world, and her wild plans to solve all of humanity’s problems. She missed Fae’s ability to always see the best in everything and everyone, and how Quinlan could always entertain the group with her outrageous facts about the local Indian tribes.
She missed them all.
But…
Abigail sighed. But as Wiggie would say, her bed was made, and she needed to lie in it. Abigail owed it to her children, she owed it to Matthias to try her best to make this marriage work. She owed it to herself, although that was harder to admit. She'd once had dreams of a loving husband and father in their lives, and just because Matthias had expressed disappointment, didn't mean she needed to discount him altogether, did it?
And she owed it to the children of Black Aces to try her best to open the school. Maybe that meant holding lessons someplace besides the school building? Matthias had explained to her that he couldn't afford the fifty dollars rent, at least not now, although he hadn’t looked her in the eye when he admitted it. And while Wiggie had promised the money, it wouldn't come until after the school started. Besides, if they paid Mr. King his extortion money—no, excuse me, rent—then there was nothing to say he wouldn't raise the rates next year.
It was a conundrum, and Abigail was worn out from going around and around in her own head. Sometimes she talked about it with Joshua, although she didn't want him to experience any of the stress, so she tried to downplay the significance. Then sometimes she got the impression Matthias wanted to talk things over with her, but whenever they'd sit down, she'd remember the way he’d shared his Blake and Son Livery dreams with her, and she'd shut herself up again.
What was she afraid of? That if she shared her thoughts and feelings with her husband, he would use them against her? Was he that type of man? Surely he wasn't. Even though she'd been out of sorts this last week, he’d been nothing but kind to her, giving her the space she needed. And even though he was disappointed in Joshua, he still was making an effort to connect with the boy, inviting him to the livery or to learn about the horses.
But it was obvious Joshua didn't want anything to do with “those smelly beasts.” While Abigail was secretly relieved that Matthias hadn't given up on her son yet, she also wanted to scream at him, “Stop trying to force my baby to be something he isn't!”
Abigail sighed and rubbed her temples. Wiggie would be anxious for word of the children, and she needed to add in something which wouldn't make her mentor worry.
The children are settling in as well as can be expected. Tell Dorthy and Yetta their predictions for Maggie were correct; she's having a wonderful time exploring her new home and getting into all sorts of trouble! She seems particularly enthralled by the variety of animals and livestock in Black Aces. My new husband has introduced us to his friends, and Maggie has become quite close with one of their daughters. In fact, she has been invited out to the Ryan ranch to spend the night with them tonight! I think the highlight for her, however, was that the Ryans promised her the chance to see their cattle up close! Joshua seems to be—
What could she say about Joshua which wouldn’t make Wiggie worried? What could she say that wouldn't make herself worried?
Joshua seems to be excited about the new school. He's been with me several times in the last week to clean the old building and sort through our resources. He was the one who made me promise to keep our books here in the new house my husband has built for us, and not move them to the school building, until it's completely clean. I suppose I can appreciate his devotion—
...especially considering we might not be able to open the school at all. But no, she couldn't write that to Wiggie and the other girls. How could she finish that sentence?
and I'm very lucky to have him as my helper.
There. That sounded innocuous enough. Surely that wouldn’t make anyone concerned. Abigail chewed on the inside of her lip. Now for the moment she’d been rather dreading. She needed to say something about her new husband, because Wiggie would be anxious to hear.
Matthias is—
Matthias is…what?
Kind. Patient. More handsome than I ever expected. Disappointed in me as a wife. Disappointed in my children. Thus far showing no signs of taking that disappointment out on any of us, but I can't help but remember heavy disappointed fists.
Abigail’s hand shook with the effort of not writing all her thoughts and worries, and was in danger of marring the paper with little droplets of ink. Instead, she carefully returned the pen to its holder, placed her fingertips on her temple, and took a deep breath.
Matthias is…
The front door opened, and she startled. Jumping up, she crossed to the stove, and stirred the stew quickly. It gave her hands something to do, and conveniently meant her back was to the kitchen door when he entered.
What should have been a happy reunion, considering they'd been married only a little more than a week, and he had spent the whole day in his livery, was instead awkward. She listened to him shift his weight, as if looking for something to say. Then:
“Good evening.”
It was a poor excuse for a greeting between a married couple, but she didn't have anything better.
“Good evening,” she said without turning from the stew, which suddenly required complete attention.
“How was your day?” His question sounded perfunctory to her.
“Good,” she said with forced cheerfulness. “Maggie was excited to ride out to the ranch with Lucas, and I promised her we would go out after church tomorrow to pick her up. And I finally sat down to write a letter home—I mean, to the orphanage.” Flustered by her mistake, she turned to see if she'd upset him.
Instead, she caught him staring at her with a look of...frustration?
“What is it, Abigail?”
“What is what?”
“What's come between us? Things were going so well—” Matthias cut himself off with a frustrated snarl, and ran his hand through his hair. “But now we’re so awkward! I know it's not my choice, so I can't help but think it's something I've done, to cause you to be so...so…” He flapped his hand in frustration, somehow managing to encompass the kitchen, the house, and her standing there with the spoon.
Naturally, Abigail’s hackles raised. “I’m so what?”
“Cold!”
Sucking in a sharp breath, Abigail pushed her shoulders back. “Excuse me?” she said icily, cloaking herself in affront and frantically trying to forget he was completely accurate.
He whispered a curse word she chose to ignore and grabbed his hair again before turning. Rather than leaving, however, he began to pace in the small kitchen.
“I didn’t mean it like that.” His shoulders expanded as he took a deep breath. “You have every right to feel however you want to feel, and I don’t want to make you think you have to be someone you’re not for me, but…”
She held onto her anger desperately, afraid if she let it slip for one moment, she’d break into tears. How dare he be so understanding and considerate and say all the right words, when she was so lost and confused!
“…But I just wish I knew why you were acting this way,” he finished in frustration. Then he turned and let out a sudden breath. “I don’t want to force you to tell me, I just wish I understood.”
Oh God, what could she say to that little bit of perfection? He was saying all the right things, and she didn’t want to hear any of it!
So, in a tiny voice—all she could manage to retain of her anger—she asked, “You think I’m being cold?”
He snorted, the wry twist of his lips a mockery of the smile she’d come to treasure. “What else should I call it, when you’re so icy and polite to me? When you only talk to me out of necessity, instead of sharing your thoughts or feelings with me? What else do
you call it, when a husband reaches for his wife in the night, and she’s giving him her back?”
Her eyes closed on her shame. He would bring that up, wouldn’t he? She’d missed his touch so, so much, especially now that she knew what she was missing. But with the way she was feeling, it was impossible to open herself up to him. Impossible to allow herself the pleasure of him.
So she swallowed. “Do you want me to submit to you?” She remembered lying underneath Cyrus, allowing him to take whatever he’d wanted. Opening her eyes, she held onto that memory. “We could go upstairs right now. I won’t give you my back again, if that’s what’s bothering you.”
“No!” he burst out, then softer, “No. I want you to want that. I would never ask you to—to—” He grunted in frustration and turned away again, his hand back in his hair. “I thought what we had was really special, and I was beginning to think you and I could find—well, we could be happy.”
Yes. Me too.
But instead, she said, with all the icy calmness of a woman used to molding young minds, “I came here to teach school, Matthias. But suddenly I discover that I can’t, because I don’t have the money. All this way, all this knowledge, wasted because I can’t afford rent up front?”
“We can’t afford it.” He dropped his hand and folded his arms across his chest, seeming to deflate in front of her eyes. “I talked you into coming all this way, and now I’ve failed you at this stage.” Propping his hip against the counter, he stared unseeingly at the door to the dining room. “How do you think that makes me feel? I’ve failed you.”
She wanted to reach for him, to remind him they were a team now, and they would either fail or succeed together. Instead, she curled her free hand into a fist, glad for the sting of her nails against her palm. If this man couldn’t accept her family, she didn’t want to be his partner.
But there was a small part of her—rapidly becoming a larger part—which seemed to be shouting in the back of her mind, “No! Matthias is not Cyrus! He’s done nothing to deserve this confusion, and you can set him right!”
So she took a deep breath and turned back to the stew, mainly so she wouldn’t have to face him when she said, “It’s Joshua.”
She could hear the frown in his voice when he said after a short pause, “Joshua hasn’t failed you.”
“No.” Shaking her head, she pretended great interest in the pot on the stovetop. “Joshua is the reason I’ve been so…so standoffish. Cold. I’m angry about the money, but that’s not why…”
Why I’ve been hardening my heart, expecting the worst.
Behind her, he moved slightly, the rustle of material the only evidence of his awkwardness. Finally, he said quietly, “Whatever is the problem, Abigail, I’m sure we can work it out together.”
Together.
Well, that was the problem, wasn’t it?
She tightened her hold on the spoon. “You held certain expectations when you sent for a bride, and those expectations haven’t been met.”
“In what way?” He sounded genuinely surprised. “You’re everything you said you were, and more!”
She exhaled softly and turned to face him; face the truth and the disappointment of which she had to remind him. “You wanted children, Matthias. You wanted a son to share your business with, and the one you got is going to fight you every step of the way if you force him to work in the livery.”
As understanding dawned, a sort of relief crossed his expression. “Joshua? This really is about Josh? You think I’m, what? Unsatisfied with him?”
“In the livery that day, you told me you’d been looking forward to—”
Before she could remind him of his words, Matthias straightened away from the table and spread his arms in an incredulous huff. “You don’t think I’m angry about him, do you?” He didn’t give her a chance to answer. “He’s different from what I expected, but what the heck does that— I mean, we have bigger issues! King has demanded rent from a schoolteacher, and if that’s not low, I don’t know what is! We’ve got no way of paying it before the deadline, even if I let Hezekiah go early, which would be cruel, and that’s what we oughta be worried about!” He was breathing heavily, and his normally calm hazel eyes flashed with frustrations. “And you’re thinking about Josh and horses,” he finished with a dismissive tsk.
“What do you expect?” she burst out. “He’s my son.”
“No, woman!” Matthias spun towards her fast enough to make her jump, his finger pointed angrily at her chest. “He’s our son.”
Our son.
Abigail was breathing just as heavily as he was, terrified and impassioned and hopeful all at once.
They stood like that a silent moment, two, three…then he exhaled softly and dropped his hand.
“Sorry,” he mumbled, not looking her in the eye.
Don’t be sorry.
Those words, he meant them. Was he claiming ownership of Joshua, the way Cyrus did, wanting to control the boy? Or did he mean that he was the boy’s parent, same as she was?
Could he possibly grow to love her children as much as she did?
Behind her, the stew bubbled, but she didn’t dare turn away. Instead, she closed her lips and listened to her heart.
Mr. Matthias Blake was a good man. A decent man who, so far, hadn’t given her any reason to fear him. Here he was concerned about making her dream come true, making sure she was able to open her school, instead of being angry Joshua wasn’t the type of boy he’d expected.
Matthias had put her dream ahead of his own.
The realization made her sick to her stomach with shame and anger and uncertainty. Was he really as good as he seemed? Or was he just very good at hiding the darkness she expected?
Suddenly, there was a bang from the back of the house as the door to the yard burst open. She winced, knowing Joshua was ignoring her nagging about being careful.
“Mama! Mr. Blake!” The boy burst into the kitchen, holding a book and a cloth sack and breathing heavily. “Look!”
When he held the grain sack bundle up triumphantly, Matthias crossed to take it from him.
“Whatchya got there?”
He sucked in a shocked breath as he looked inside, and his eyes slammed up to meet hers. Before she had a chance to read the emotion in them, he stepped up to the table where she’d been writing her letter and upended the sack, spilling bills across the surface.
From the door, a beaming Joshua piped up, “There’s got to be fifty dollars in there! He knew we needed it!”
Fifty dollars!
Abigail felt as if she was swimming through a fog as she slowly turned to her son with wide eyes. “He?”
“I was reading under the tree out back, and I heard a whistle. Real sharp, like someone was trying to get my attention. I looked up, and there he was, on his horse! He was all in black, Mama, and his horse was too!” Joshua was practically vibrating with excitement. “With a black hat so I couldn’t see his face. He saw me looking at him, and he nodded once and tossed this sack in my direction. By the time I got there, he was long gone, but he meant that sack for me—for us! I know it!” If his smile got any bigger, his face was in danger of splitting. “Don’t you see? The Black Ace is real! He’s got us the money we need to start the school, Mama!”
“Son of a—” Matthias slammed his fist down on the table.
In shock, and not knowing what else to do, Abigail responded the only way she knew. “Matthias! Language!”
But the eyes he turned to her were tortured. “He could do it? Some vigilante knew how desperate I was to provide for my wife, and he gave us the money? How many other people know I’m such a failure? I can’t even sit on a horse anymore!”
With a clarity sudden enough to make her gasp, Abigail understood. Her husband had built a business up from nothing, had designed and constructed this beautiful home for his new family, and didn’t see any of it. Instead, he saw only that he’d lost the career he’d loved and couldn’t afford rent on his wife’s schoolhouse.
“Oh, Matthias,” she murmured, crossing to him to wrap her arms around him. “You have not failed.” Her words were muffled against his chest as she hugged him. “The only reason we couldn’t pay the fifty dollars up front was because you’ve spent so much on us already, and that shows you’re a thoughtful man with much to be proud of.”
When she realized he was just standing there stiffly, not returning her embrace, she pulled back slightly to look him in the eyes. His jaw was hard as he stared down at her, but the look in his eyes was unsure.
She realized that in all of her years of marriage to Cyrus, she’d never felt the urge to comfort him. But she hadn’t hesitated to rush to Matthias, when she saw him torturing himself.
“Matthias?” she prompted softly.
“You really don’t think less of me, having to accept this?”
She smiled gently. “If we can figure out who he is, we’ll pay him back as soon as we’re able.”
From the doorway, Joshua gave a little bounce. “Excellent! We can figure out who The Black Ace is to repay him, and we can open the school as planned!”
Matthias relaxed slightly then and wrapped one arm around her. It wasn’t entirely comfortable—not like it had been last week—but it was better than their recent cold silences. Maybe…maybe they could make things work again?
Maybe she could convince herself he wasn’t hiding anything, and he would cherish them all as a husband and father should.
Or maybe she should just admit to herself it was easier to be cold and standoffish to protect her heart.
Chapter Nine
“Whoa, I didn’t expect you up so early!”
At Matthias’s words—and sudden arrival in the kitchen—Joshua jumped. He didn’t look guilty though, just surprised. He was sitting at the table peering at the newspapers Lucas had brought back from Helena on his last trip, eating a piece of bread and jam.
