Hopeful Hearts

by Diann Hunt

  Thoughts of Jonathan had grown fewer with every passing day. Perhaps she had moved on without him. Much sooner than she had expected. Quite possibly she didn’t love him after all. That revelation surprised her.

  Then another thought came to her, surprising her even more. Perhaps she could give love one more chance.

  “Where are you going?” Ma asked.

  “I’m going to church,” Titus said matter-of-factly.

  Ma looked like she would faint dead away. “Where are you going to church?”

  “I’m going to the O’Connors’ church.”

  Her eyes narrowed. “Why the sudden interest?”

  He shrugged.

  Ma’s eyes turned big as coins. A smile broke out on her face. “It’s Abigail, isn’t it?”

  “No, it’s not Abigail. I just want to go.”

  “Oh son, you don’t have to hide your feelings. I think she’s a lovely young lady.”

  “Ma, it’s not Abigail,” he barked. One look at her face made him feel bad for his tone. “I’m sorry, Ma. I’m just going to church. That’s all.”

  Her expression grew serious. “Titus, you watch yourself.”

  “Don’t worry, Ma.”

  She walked over to him and kissed his cheek. “Don’t let hate rule you, son. I love you. I don’t want to lose you, too.” Before he could answer, she turned and busied herself with breakfast preparations.

  Jenny smiled at him. “What are you smiling about?” he teased, tousling her hair. For a moment, his heart pricked. He was doing this for Jenny, too. After all, she was affected by what the O’Connors did to them. He justified his actions, cleaning his heart of any trace of guilt. After breakfast, he gave Jenny a kiss on the head then did the same to Ma. “I’ll see you later.”

  He walked through the door, barely hearing Ma’s words that she was still praying for him.

  Titus walked into church with the O’Connor family. His boots scuffed the wooden floors. It had been awhile since he’d darkened the doors of such a place. The building was small, not at all like what he had imagined. Every eye seemed to turn and look at him, making him uncomfortable. The boards groaned when they finally settled onto the rough-hewn benches. Titus took great care as he scooted across the worn and splintered bench.

  The reverend, somewhat familiar in his approach to the people, surprised Titus. He liked it though. Oh, there he went again. Getting his mind off of his reason for being there. This wasn’t a real church visit. He was there for one reason: to find out how to bring down the O’Connor family.

  The reverend’s sermon spoke of forgiveness. Of course. What else? Ma was praying. She did this to him. Though he loved her, sometimes she made him want to spit. He often wondered if she had a direct line to God. Seemed God answered all of her prayers.

  Well, maybe not all. Had Ma prayed about their current situation? Surely Ma had prayed about Jenny. Where was God in all that?

  Titus shifted in his seat and refocused on the reverend’s words. He talked of David’s forgiveness toward his enemy Saul. Of all the things to talk about. Hadn’t Titus already rehashed those stories in his mind? The reverend reminded them that though Saul had made several attempts on David’s life, David stayed true to God. He would not touch the Lord’s anointed.

  Well, Titus could rest easy. The O’Connors were not the Lord’s anointed. Were they? What did that mean, anyway? Someone chosen of God? To do what, preach? Saul wasn’t a preacher, but a king. The O’Connors wouldn’t fit. God understood Titus’s feelings. God would approve.

  He had to.

  Church was over faster than the flutter of a hummingbird’s wings, and Titus had little time to mingle with the people to find out anything on the O’Connors. It would take time, no doubt. He’d have to be patient. Still, he didn’t want to risk too much time. He didn’t like the way his heart turned over at the sight of Abigail. The sooner he could leave their home, the better.

  “You will join us for lunch, Titus?” Mrs. O’Connor asked.

  He looked at Abigail. “Oh yes, and you have to play me in checkers,” she encouraged. “But I’ll warn you, I’m good.”

  His eyebrows lifted. “Oh, a challenge? Well, I don’t see how I can refuse.” He turned to Mrs. O’Connor. “I’ll be there.” He mentally kicked himself. What was he thinking? He wasn’t. The words were out of his mouth before he had time to think.

  After a meal of beef, potatoes, corn, and biscuits, Titus and Abigail settled into a game of checkers in front of the hearth. Barnabas lay coiled at her feet. Over the next hour, they played a couple of games, stopping to chat between moves, each winning one game. Titus insisted on a third to break the tie. Abigail took up the challenge, and much to his pleasure, Titus won. Abigail gave in agreeably; then Mr. O’Connor invited Titus to a game of chess.

  Titus couldn’t remember when he’d passed such an enjoyable afternoon. He only wished it hadn’t been with the O’Connors. Oh, he was learning more about them, all right, but he was learning things he didn’t want to know. Like the fact that they seemed genuine. He hadn’t expected that. He had thought they would be like most people who claimed religion. Fake. Yet this family was different. They actually believed what they said they believed. Made him almost sorry he didn’t share in their faith.

  Before leaving, Titus edged his way out to the barn to check on the horses. Although it was his day off, he had grown to care about the animals and wanted to see to them.

  “They kind of grow on you, don’t they?” Mr. O’Connor’s voice came from behind Titus.

  Titus turned to him and smiled. “Yeah, I guess they do at that.”

  “Look, Titus, you’ve done a good job for us, and I want to thank you.” Mr. O’Connor waited a moment. “There’s something else.” Titus looked up at him. “I’ve never told you how sorry I was about your pa. He was a good friend. I never meant for him to … well, I …” Tears welled up in the older man’s face, confusing Titus. This was all wrong. He didn’t want to see genuine concern on his enemy’s face. This man was his enemy. Titus did not want to care about him or his family. Titus turned away.

  “I didn’t know he had put everything into that business, or I would have tried to stop him.”

  Titus turned back to him. Mr. O’Connor placed a hand on Titus’s shoulder. “I want to help you, Titus, because I know your pa would have done the same for my family had the tables been turned.”

  Titus was speechless. What could he say? His thoughts warred. He wanted to …

  Get even.

  Before his heart could thaw, Titus fought back, allowing the chill to return, cold and hard like icicles. He said nothing.

  Mr. O’Connor looked into Titus’s eyes and paused. Without a word, he patted Titus on the shoulder then turned and walked away.

  Chapter 7

  Shaking the snow from her boots, Abigail stepped into Barnabas House and pulled off her cloak. She thought it best to keep Barnabas at home today since it was so cold. A pleasurable smell of stew meandered from the kitchen through the front room to greet her. As she hung her cloak on a nearby peg, she glanced at the freshly painted white walls. It hardly seemed to Abigail the same place as when she first started working there.

  She walked over to the fireplace to warm herself a moment. Her cheeks were still stinging from the biting cold, but she felt refreshed, invigorated, and ready to work. Winter did that to her. Rubbing her hands in front of the open fire, she spoke greetings to a few of the workers. A movement in the window caught her attention. Outside, delicate snowflakes fluttered to the ground, reminding Abigail of a scene from Currier and Ives. With a happy sigh, she pulled herself away and headed toward her table to work with the children.

  “Abigail, how are you?”

  She turned with a start to see Christopher standing there. “Oh, hello! I’m so glad you’re better.”

  A huge smile spread across his face. “That makes two of us.” He looked around the room. “I’ve missed this place. And I’m so thankful you and
the others were able to keep it going while I was gone. Thanks, too, for organizing the painting. The place looks nice.”

  “Well, Mary O’Grady did most of the organizing. She worked hard to keep things going while you were gone.”

  Christopher’s eyes sparkled. “That woman is a wonder.”

  Abigail thought she heard something in his voice. Admiration? No, it was more than that. Definitely more. Her face must have revealed her thoughts.

  Christopher cleared his throat. “Well, it’s hard to believe here it is December 10th already. Christmas will soon be upon us.”

  Abigail smiled then turned giddy with the thought of Christmas. She loved Christmas with all the trimmings and festivities the holiday brought.

  “I see you like this time of year.”

  “Yes, I love it.”

  “Miss Abigail, I have something for you.” Katie O’Grady tugged at Abigail’s dress. She held something behind her back.

  Abigail looked down at her and smiled. The sight of the child brought out her maternal instincts. “Is that a fact?” she asked, looking at Katie.

  Katie beamed and nodded with vigor.

  “Well, I’ll leave you two for now,” Christopher said with a wink.

  “Thank you, Christopher,” Abigail returned then scrunched down in front of Katie. One thing about it: Mary O’Grady might be poor, but her daughter’s face was as shiny as a scrubbed apple. Hems had been dropped on her two dresses and tears mended. “Now, what is it you wanted to show me?”

  “Could we go over there?” Katie pointed to a vacant corner out of the way of others.

  Abigail smiled. “Certainly.” Together they scuffled through the busy room, across the wooden floor, and hunkered in the corner as if sharing a wonderful secret.

  “This is my favorite necklace. I wore it every day until Bobby broke it.” Katie’s eyes filled with tears as she stretched out her hand. “I want to give it to you.” There in her delicate palm lay a golden locket with a broken chain.

  Abigail gasped. “Why, Katie, I could not take such a wonderful gift from you. Where did you get it?”

  “Ma gave it to me. It don’t have her picture, though. She didn’t have one.” Katie opened the locket and showed an empty shell where a picture should have been.

  “You cannot give away such a precious gift, Katie. Your ma meant that for you.”

  She lifted worried eyes to Abigail. A look that said she wanted to give her best gift yet didn’t want to part with such a treasure. “Ma said when you love someone, you give them your best gift, just like God did when He gave His Son, Jesus.” All wiggles and energy, she couldn’t seem to stand still but moved about and scratched as new itches seemed to surface. “I know it’s broke, but it’s still my favorite thing.” Suddenly, she pulled herself straight, squaring her shoulders as if she were about to recite a memory verse word for word. “Ma said broken things could be fixed. But only God can fix a broken heart.” She snapped her head and grinned at her own delivery of the speech.

  Abigail felt a squeeze on her heart. No doubt Mary O’Grady still ached over her husband’s abandonment and death. Abigail’s pain over losing Jonathan was nothing compared to what this woman had suffered.

  Katie swayed in half circles as she talked to Abigail. Her hands waved with her words. “Ma says I have to forgive Bobby for breaking my necklace just like she has to forgive Pa for leaving us,” she said matter-of-factly. She stopped and licked her lips very slowly, like she was tasting honey from a biscuit. Raising her right arm, she swiped her wet mouth with the back of her hand. “I’m still mad at him, though.” As if someone pushed a button, her eyebrows crinkled at the same time her lower lip jutted out. “Ma says she’ll pray for me.” She frowned and stared at the necklace in her hand and lifted teary eyes to Abigail. “Don’t you like my gift, Miss Abigail?”

  “Oh!” Abigail pulled the child into an enormous hug. When they finally separated, Abigail looked into Katie’s green eyes. “Katie, I love your present.”

  With only a slight hesitation, Katie dropped the precious locket and broken chain into Abigail’s waiting hand. Abigail knew Katie had sacrificed her most treasured gift. “Thank you.”

  The little girl’s face brightened, and her tears dried. Without another word, Katie skipped over to the table where she worked on her homework, and no doubt the entire scene was quickly forgotten. But Abigail knew she would never forget the sacrificial gift given to her by a pink-cheeked, little Irish girl on a chilly winter’s afternoon.

  Sunday morning, Titus walked behind Abigail as they made their way out of the church. He found himself spending more time with the O’Connors than necessary but couldn’t seem to turn them down when they invited him. As much as he hated to admit it, he enjoyed their company. His plan gnawed at him, but he pushed it aside for now. It didn’t hurt to enjoy life a little, did it? He’d get back to his plan, but for now, he wanted to spend a little more time with Abigail.

  “Abigail!”

  Titus was just helping Abigail into the carriage when they heard her name. They both turned to see Sophia and Clayton coming toward them.

  “Oh, I was hoping to catch you before you left,” Sophia said, somewhat out of breath.

  “Titus,” Clayton said with a grin, extending his hand.

  “Good to see you again, Clayton.”

  “Well, I wanted to know if you and Titus could join us for lunch.” Sophia looked hopeful. Abigail hesitated a moment then looked at Titus as if she feared what he might say or think.

  “It’s fine with me,” he said.

  Abigail visibly relaxed. A smile lifted her lips. “We’d like that. Let me tell Mother.”

  “Good,” Sophia said with a snap of her head. “We’ll see you there.”

  Titus turned to Abigail. “You’d have to ride with me in my buckboard since your parents will need the carriage.”

  She smiled, putting all his fear to rest. “That will be fine.”

  Somehow he knew she meant it, too.

  Her parents gave their blessing. Titus and Abigail waved good-bye and headed toward Sophia and Clayton’s home. He felt a little self-conscious being a mere chauffeur with Clayton an attorney and all. He reminded himself these people didn’t seem to care in the least. So why should he?

  Titus pulled the buffalo skin up from the wagon, brushed it off, and gave it to Abigail. “Here, you’ll need this.”

  “Thanks,” she said, adjusting it around her to ward off the biting chill.

  Soft white flakes filled the air as they traveled the roads to Sophia and Clayton’s country home. Meadows once filled with wildflowers lay in frigid heaps, waiting for spring’s thaw.

  “I’m sorry it’s cold. But at least it’s pretty to look at, don’t you think?”

  Abigail smiled with pure pleasure. “I’m glad to find someone else besides me who loves the season. I was beginning to think the world was full of grouses.”

  Titus laughed. His eyebrows quirked and lowered. “I guess I’m not a grouse, at least when it comes to winter.”

  Abigail studied him for a minute, making him feel a little uncomfortable. “So tell me about your ma.”

  His spirit dropped. He didn’t want to talk about his family. That was too personal. They were stepping into intimate territory. Yet it was a perfectly sound question. After all, he’d spent lots of time with her family. He decided to answer.

  “Ma’s amazing. Her spirits are always up, despite the circumstances.”

  “I’m sorry about everything, Titus. I know things haven’t been easy for you.”

  The sincerity of her words tugged at him in ways he didn’t want to explore. “The main thing is to get Jenny walking—and talking again.”

  “Oh, I knew she didn’t walk, but I didn’t realize she couldn’t talk.”

  “Just since Pa died. She talked before then.”

  “Oh, how awful. I’m so sorry.”

  “We’ll get by,” he said, scratching his jaw. He just didn’t want
to tell her he had to take her family down to bring his family peace. His heart constricted. The truth was he was getting soft. Second-guessing himself. Abigail seemed to sense his inner struggle. She kept silent the rest of the journey.

  “Abigail, you must see what I’ve made for the baby,” Sophia said, placing the soup ladle on the stove. Grabbing Abigail’s hand, Sophia took her friend to the bedroom. She bent down in front of her trunk. “Oh Sophia, your mother gave you the trunk?”

  Sophia looked up, beaming. “You remember?”

  “How could I forget? That’s the one Clayton found in the fire, right?”

  “Right.” Sophia ran her fingers along the top of the trunk. “Papa’s gift to Mama, Clayton’s gift to me.” She lifted the lid almost as if there were something sacred inside. Carefully, she picked up a knitted yellow blanket woven in an intricate pattern.

  Abigail gasped. “Oh my, Sophia, you knitted this?”

  Sophia smiled with pride. “Do you like it?”

  Abigail held it tenderly, pressing it softly against her face. “It is beautiful.” She handed the blanket back to Sophia. “Your baby is very blessed to have you and Clayton for parents.”

  “We are the ones most blessed,” she corrected, slipping the blanket gingerly back into the trunk. She closed the lid and looked to Abigail. “Do you still miss him?”

  “Who?”

  Sophia laughed. “Well, I guess that answers my question.”

  “Oh, you mean Jonathan?”

  Sophia nodded, her eyes probing.

  “Only a little. It’s not so bad now.”

  “You never hear from him?”

  Abigail shook her head. “It’s all right. I’ve moved on.”

  “I can see that,” Sophia said, nodding her head toward the door with a laugh.

  “No, no. I don’t mean that.”

  “Titus is handsome, don’t you think?”

  “There you go again.”

  “Well?”