by Diann Hunt
“Oh Titus, he’s hurt.”
“Watch it, Abigail. A dog in pain could bite.”
She pulled back. “Will you get Father? We need to take him to the veterinarian.”
Titus nodded and went to the house while Abigail cooed softly to the animal, trying to ease his pain.
In no time, the lucky hound went from rags to riches as the O’Connors swept him into the veterinarian’s office, had his broken leg set, then whisked him happily off to his new home.
“Abigail, I have no idea what we’re going to do with a dog,” Mother said, staring with disapproval at the animal in the house. The dog seemed to sense her dislike. He hobbled over behind Abigail’s legs.
Abigail chuckled. “Oh, you poor thing.” She patted his head then looked up at Mother. “I told you. I’ll take care of him. You won’t have to do a thing. I’m not a little girl anymore. I can handle it.” Abigail scrunched down and scratched him behind his ears. “Besides, I think he will be a great encouragement to the children at Barnabas House.”
With arms crossed, Mother looked him over once more and finally sighed. “Well, just see that you do care for him. I’ll not have a dog tearing up our things around the house.”
Feeling much like a child again, Abigail jumped up and gave Mother a squeeze. “Thank you.”
Mother returned the embrace then looked back at the dog. A sudden softness came to her voice. “The poor thing has been through enough for one day.” She paused a moment before adding an admonishment. “But mind you, tomorrow he will have a bath. You’ll just have to be careful of his leg.”
Abigail nodded, then picked the dog up and carried him to her room while Mother just shook her head and watched.
With her feet, Abigail maneuvered a small rug beside her bed. Carefully, she bent down and laid the dog on the rug. He looked up at her with dark, melting eyes. Abigail stroked his fur and talked in whispers, lulling the animal to sleep. She’d have to think of a name for him.
Quietly, she pulled off her clothes and changed into her nightgown. Sinking into her soft bed covers, she reached for her Bible and read a passage. Afterward, she placed it back on her stand then glanced once more at the sleeping hound. “Barnabas. I think I’ll call you Barnabas,” she whispered. Satisfied, she blew a puff of air into the lamplight, snuffing the room into darkness.
Abigail rolled over to her side, pulling the covers just under her chin. It had been a long day but a rewarding one. Not until that very moment did she realize she hadn’t thought about Jonathan the entire day.
Still, she wondered if he slept peacefully tonight in the comfort of his bedroom so very far away.
The smell of breakfast alerted his nose, and Titus opened his eyes. Sausage? Eggs? He couldn’t remember such a breakfast in some time. He sat up and stretched on his bed. He turned to the sounds of clanging pots and sizzling bacon.
“Well, good morning, sleepyhead,” his ma said with a smile. She finished setting the table. Thrusting himself from his bed, he stretched his tired muscles and walked over to the table. Jenny sat smiling from her chair. Ma had pulled Jenny’s blond hair back from her face into a long braid. Hollow eyes looked up at him. Titus’s heart flipped with the sight of his little sister. So weak. So vulnerable. He grinned back at her. “Boy, I love Sundays! The one day I can be home. Right, Jenny girl?” He reached over and ruffled the hair on top of her head then turned to Ma. “How long till breakfast is ready?”
“Almost ready,” Ma said, turning the eggs in the pan.
“If you don’t mind, I’ll step outside for a breath of air so it can wake me up. I’ll be right back.”
She nodded as she placed steaming biscuits on the table.
Walking into the backyard, Titus felt the morning chill prick his skin as he surveyed the area. Weather-beaten homes with sagging porches stumbled over one another along the street, leaving no gaps between neighbors. Broken glass, tattered furniture, and fragments of yesterday’s trinkets littered neglected lawns. Being one for privacy, Titus hated the intrusion of other people so close to his home. He could hear their conversations, their thumps across wooden floors, their heated arguments. He shook his head. It wasn’t like him to dwell in resentment, but he was there for now and wasn’t ready to give it up. Not until somebody paid.
By the time he stepped into the kitchen, Ma was seated beside Jenny, and they both looked up at him. “Oh, sorry, didn’t mean to take so long.” He quickly seated himself and reached for a biscuit. Ma’s words stopped him.
“Dear Lord, we thank Thee for the wonderful meal this morning. We ask that Thou wouldst bless the kind people who so graciously shared of their abundance with us. In Jesus’ name, amen.”
Titus knew their family tradition of prayer before meals, but he found himself forgetting such things more and more each day. He reached for a biscuit and pulled it open. Careful to save some for Ma and Jenny, he spread a tiny dollop of butter inside. “So, which kind person shared with us today?” Titus bit into his biscuit and looked at Ma.
She didn’t even blink at his snide remark. “The Barnabas House brought some food over for us yesterday,” she said matter-of-factly, while spooning some food onto her plate.
The impact of her statement hit him full in the face. He stopped chewing and glared at her. “Abigail O’Connor,” he said with distaste.
Ma looked up pleasantly. “I would suspect so. Very kind of her and—”
He hit the table with his fist, stopping her words. His lips snarled, and he shoved his plate away. “How ironic that they would help us!” He barely spat out the words. “We don’t need their charity! The O’Connor family brought this on us in the first place!”
Ma’s face turned red. “Now, you listen here, young man. You’ll be going to an early grave talking like that. The O’Connors are good people. Your pa made a choice. It turned out to be bad. Nobody is to blame. Things happen. The good Lord—”
“I don’t want to hear about the good Lord,” he shouted, rising to his feet.
Ma rose to her feet, too. “You’ll not be talking like that in this house, Titus Matthews!” A whimper sounded from the table, causing them to turn to Jenny. Tears streamed steadily down her face.
As angry as he was, Titus couldn’t hurt his sister. He swallowed hard and took a deep breath as the anger slinked away. Ma and Titus exchanged a glance. Titus walked over to Jenny and hugged her. “It’s all right, Jenny.” He held her tight, kissing the top of her head. “I’m sorry. I was wrong.” He felt tears moisten his eyes. How could he do this to Jenny when she had so much to deal with already? “Ma … is right,” he heard himself saying, though he refused to believe it.
Jenny hiccupped a time or two then wiped her tears. Ma settled back in her place, and Titus did the same. They finished their meal in silence.
After breakfast, Ma cleared the table and grabbed her Bible. With Jenny’s inability to walk, they found it too difficult to get to church, so Ma saw to it that they got religious training through her daily reading of the scriptures.
Out of respect, Titus stayed in his seat, but it took everything in him to keep himself there. After years of hearing the scriptures, he could recite verses without thinking. But they rang hollow in his dark heart. He knew he was traveling a path better left alone, but he couldn’t seem to stop himself. Bitterness fed on his soul like termites on wood.
Hadn’t King David of the scriptures avenged himself on his enemies? Titus tried to convince himself of that, but he knew his thoughts were a distortion of the truth. David had left Saul alone, though countless times Saul had tried to kill David. David left his enemies in God’s hands.
Enough! Ma had filled his mind over the years with Bible teachings, making him weak. He needed to think like a man, not a weakling who depended on God as a crutch. No, this was one battle he could handle himself.
Abigail walked across the lawn to the stables in search of Titus, the morning dew soaking the hem of her dress. She peered into the barn. “Titus?” At her
side, merely a breath away, he answered. “Yes?” She turned to face him. His breath was close enough to cause her face to tingle. “Oh,” she said with a gasp. She took an awkward step back, tripping over her skirts. He reached out his hand and grabbed her to keep her from falling backward. For a moment, he hovered over her slightly bent form and looked down into her eyes. Neither said a word. A horse neighed, seeming to bring Titus to his senses. He looked as though he’d been splashed with cold water. Pulling Abigail to a standing position, he cleared his throat. “Are you all right?”
Abigail’s hand pressed hard against her chest. “I’m fine. I don’t know what got into me.” She looked around a moment, not knowing how to handle the situation. Finally, she lifted her head and looked back at him. “I wanted to let you know I won’t be going anywhere until this afternoon when it’s time to go to Barnabas House. So if you want to groom the horses, you’ll have the time.” She pulled at her handkerchief and gave a delicate cough.
“Thank you. I’ll do that.”
She nodded then turned to go.
“Did you have Barnabas House bring our family food on Saturday?”
She stopped in place. Did she hear resentment in his voice? Maybe she had stepped out of line. Father had said the Matthews family was proud. She turned to him. “Well, I might have mentioned your ma could be in need of a few items.”
Looking a bit uncomfortable, he hesitated a moment. He rolled his hat around in his hands a few seconds before looking back at her. “Thanks.”
Relief washed over her. “You’re welcome.” She felt herself smile.
In fact, she smiled all the way back to the house.
Titus brushed the horses with more vigor than necessary. Had he really thanked her for her charity? What had gotten into him? He knew the answer all too well.
Those blue eyes. The way her curls spilled across her shoulders and reflected the brilliance of the morning sun. Her kindness and gentle ways.
He yanked off his hat and slapped it against his pant leg. “It’s not supposed to be like this!” he grumbled to the horses. “I have my plan all set, and I don’t need Abigail O’Connor to mess things up.” He plunked his hat back on and brushed the horse’s coat once again. If his plans were to succeed, he’d have to stay away from Abigail, keep his relationship with her strictly business. He could do this.
He had to.
“Abigail, are you all right?” Mother asked when Abigail stepped into the house quite out of breath.
She looked up with a start. “Oh yes, I’m fine.”
“Look at the hem of your skirt,” Mother said, pointing. “Where have you been?”
“Oh, I went out to tell Titus I wouldn’t be going anywhere until this afternoon if he wanted to groom the horses.”
Her mother studied her a moment.
“What?” Abigail asked, feeling uncomfortable under her mother’s scrutiny.
“Oh, nothing,” Mother said with a smile. “Nothing at all.”
Abigail wasn’t sure what that meant, but she knew one thing. She didn’t like the sounds of it. Not one bit.
Making her way up the stairs, Abigail went to her bedroom. She needed to take Barnabas outside. When she pushed through the door, she saw the dog standing, admittedly a little crooked, waiting on her. Abigail laughed and walked over to him.
His tail wagged furiously as she edged closer; thankful eyes looked to her. Abigail bent down to the animal, speaking words of comfort to him. She wanted to nuzzle him but decided since she hadn’t given him a bath yet, she’d better wait. Instead, she scratched the top of his head and worked her fingers down his back. He leaned in toward her as if begging for more. Father had found an old leash and collar in the barn and brought them in the night before. Abigail fastened the collar around Barnabas’s neck then clamped on the leash. She carried him down the stairs, but once they reached the bottom, she lowered him to the floor, allowing him to adjust to his new way of walking.
“I’m taking Barnabas outside, Mother,” she called before opening the door. Once outside, Abigail took Barnabas to a secluded spot in the backyard. She lifted her face to the morning sun, allowing its warm rays to wash over her. The warmth gave her a good feeling. Like when she and Jonathan shared happy times together. Jonathan. Her good feeling plunged. She lowered her head. “Where are you, Jonathan? Do you miss me at all?”
Just then, Barnabas stood erect. His body tensed, muscles flexed. A low, menacing growl simmered in his throat, and his lips rolled back, revealing pointed teeth.
Abigail turned. “Titus. You startled me.”
“Oh, I’m sorry,” he said. “Looks like you’ve got a good watchdog though.”
Abigail laughed. “I guess I do,” she said, rewarding Barnabas with a scratch on the head.
“I saw you out here and thought I’d find out what time you were thinking of leaving this afternoon. I wanted to clean out the stalls.”
“Oh, probably around three o’clock. Will that work for you?”
“That’s fine.” He stood there for a moment. “Well, that’s all I needed.”
She nodded and smiled. Abigail watched as he walked away. Funny he should come out here to ask her that. She thought he had known they would leave at three. Could it be he was looking for an excuse to talk to her? She couldn’t help feeling a little giddy at the thought. But then, what woman didn’t appreciate a little attention from a handsome gentleman once in a while?
You’re through with men, remember? The thought rang in her ears. Of course, I remember. “Come on, Barnabas, time to go in.” The dog instantly hobbled to her side. She could hardly wait until three o’clock. The children would enjoy meeting Barnabas.
Or was she looking forward to three o’clock for another reason?
Chapter 5
The autumn winds swept the rest of September and all of October right into history. Abigail pulled her dark, woolen cloak tight against her as she stepped into the wintry November chill. Titus tipped his hat. “Abigail.” She smiled and offered Barnabas to him as she stepped up to her carriage seat. Once she situated herself, Titus gave the hound a friendly scratch and lifted Barnabas to her. The two laughed as they watched the dog curl up in her lap.
Titus climbed onto the carriage and flicked the horses into a steady trot. “Barnabas seems to be getting around a lot better since his leg has healed.”
She nodded.
“His fur looks better, too, since he’s moved in with your family. You’re taking mighty fine care of him.” Titus reached over and stroked the dog down his back, causing Barnabas’s left hind leg to stretch with delight.
Titus and Abigail laughed. “Looks like you’ve won him over at last,” she said with a smile.
“I don’t know who’s won who over,” Titus admitted. “But one thing’s for sure: those kids at the house love him.”
Abigail warmed to his words. “Yes, they do.” She gave Barnabas an affectionate hug. Then remembering something, she turned to Titus. “Oh, don’t let me forget. Ma said we need to stop at the post office and check the mail.”
He nodded.
The afternoon went by quickly as Abigail worked with the children. Their studies seemed to be going well, and she enjoyed each of them. Abigail gathered her things to prepare to leave. She turned to see Katie O’Grady hugging Barnabas tight against her. In characteristic charm, a thatch of white hair drooped over the dog’s right eye. His gentle face seemed to hold a smile, suggesting he was quite fond of the children’s hugs. He snuggled his face into the crook of Katie’s arm, as if totally enjoying the warmth of her embrace.
Abigail softened at the sight. Her heart went out to Katie. Only six years old, the child had suffered much already. Her pa left their family shortly after they arrived in America, just a few years back. Struggling to make ends meet, Katie’s ma cleaned Barnabas House in return for room and board for herself and her daughter.
Abigail wondered how Mary O’Grady got through each day knowing the man she had given her life to
had walked out on her and their child. Sadly, he could never come back. Shortly after leaving his family, he had stepped off a curb in the dark of night and been hit by a carriage. He died the next day. Such a tragedy. That’s what Abigail couldn’t risk. A man promising to love her forever then leaving. Like Jonathan.
“I love Barnabas,” Katie said when she saw Abigail watching them.
“I know you do.” Abigail cringed, thinking that a man could abandon his family in this way. But then isn’t that what happened to her? Her parents had left her on the doorstep of the O’Connor family. Did her real parents know the O’Connors? Somehow, Abigail felt her parents did know them and knew that they would take good care of her. And the O’Connors had been wonderful parents. Still, sometimes she craved to know where she belonged. Where were her roots? Were her parents still living?
Abigail felt a tug on her leg and looked down. “Yes, Katie?”
The little girl clung to Abigail’s dress and through messy hair looked up. “I love you, Miss Abigail.” She squeezed Abigail’s skirts once more.
Without warning, tears sprang to Abigail’s eyes. She related to this child in many ways. After all, she, too, had been abandoned. By her parents. By Jonathan. Abigail hunkered down to the child. “And I love you, Katie O’Grady,” she said, hugging the child with abandon.
“You won’t ever leave me, will you, Miss Abigail?”
Abigail’s breath caught in her throat. Only God knew the future. How could she make a promise she wasn’t sure she could keep?
