Hopeful Hearts

by Diann Hunt

  “Abigail, might we talk?”

  She looked up and nodded, carefully laying aside her needle and thread.

  “I was wrong. I thought I had done the right thing by keeping this from your mother, but I was wrong.” He pulled his hands to the sides of his head. “Oh, how I wish I could wipe that painful sin from my life.” She watched him agonize with the pain of it. She walked over to him and knelt by his feet. Lifting red, weary eyes, he grabbed her hand. “I’m thankful for you, child, but I loathe myself for the sin I’ve committed.”

  “I know, Father. But God has forgiven you.”

  “God has forgiven me, but what if your mother cannot?”

  Abigail didn’t have the answer for that.

  “I don’t know what I’ll do if she doesn’t return,” Father said, tears running down his face. Abigail had never seen her father cry before. She touched his shoulder.

  “Mother loves you, and she knows deep down that you love her.”

  He looked at her through red, watery eyes and merely patted her hand. He struggled to his feet. Bent and weary, he shuffled out of the room, looking much older to Abigail than she had ever seen him.

  The next morning, Eliza had her bags packed and ready to go by the time Titus came to the door. Abigail stepped up behind her cousin.

  “Eliza?” Abigail said.

  She turned around with a start. “Yes?” Her stance showed her bracing herself for anything Abigail might throw her way.

  Abigail wanted to show her anger, to hurl pain upon her cousin for all she had done to Abigail’s family, but with one look at Eliza, Abigail changed her mind. “I—I wish things could have been different,” was all she said. To Abigail’s amazement, she meant it. Expecting an unkind retort, Abigail was surprised to instead find a look of sorrow flash across Eliza’s face.

  Eliza gave a slight nod. So slight, Abigail almost missed it.

  Perhaps God had not given up on Eliza.

  When Titus showed up for work on Tuesday morning, Abigail heard her father talking to him.

  “Titus, I thought we had an understanding. I never knew the depths of the hatred that simmered in your heart. For that I am dreadfully sorry. I cannot fix the past, nor can I undo what happened to your pa. I had hoped to help you, but not from a guilty heart, as I’m sure you supposed. Rather, out of a heart of respect for the friendship I had shared with your pa.” He blew out a sigh of regret. “Knowing you feel as you do, I suspect it’s best you leave your position with us.”

  “But I don’t feel that way, sir, I—”

  The older man held up his hand. “I need time, Titus, to think this through. You understand?”

  “Yes sir,” was all Titus said. His head drooped, and he walked away. A sharp pain went through Abigail’s chest. She struggled to ignore it. How could she feel soft toward this man who had used her affections and worked side by side with Eliza to bring the O’Connor family to ruin?

  Abigail had renewed her vows to the Lord, making every effort to give Him first place in her life. She knew now that in order to please her heavenly Father, she must forgive, but like her mother, she didn’t have the strength on her own. Only after much prayer would she find the strength. And even then she might be able to forgive, but she now knew there would never be a future together for her and Titus.

  That brought to Abigail the worst pain of all.

  Chapter 18

  By Wednesday afternoon, the silence in the house made Abigail restless. She decided to go to Gramma’s house. She wasn’t there very long before she crumbled in a heap.

  “Gramma, everything is terrible.” Abigail wiped her nose for the hundredth time on her handkerchief. “Our family will never be the same.”

  “There, there, Abigail darling,” Gramma said, patting Abigail’s hand. “We will get through this, we will.” Gramma looked away. “’Tis Eliza I’m worried about, I am.”

  Abigail jerked her head toward Gramma with a start. “Why ever would you worry about her? She brought this disaster to our home.”

  “No,” Gramma was saying. “’Tis your father’s sin brought this about. Eliza merely made the hidden sin known.” Gramma thought some more. “I shouldn’t have written about it in a journal. What was I thinking? Someone would have surely found it after I was gone.” She shrugged. “I’d forgotten I’d even written the words. So very long ago.”

  “It’s not your fault, Gramma.”

  “No. No. Your father committed the sin, and he should have told your mother. Still, he thought he was doing the best thing by her.” Gramma looked away again. “’Tis all so tragic.”

  “Why do you worry about Eliza?”

  Gramma stood and hobbled over to her chair. With great effort she lowered herself to within inches of the seat and finally fell into the soft cushions with a great plop. “Oh dear, me body doesn’t cooperate like it used to.” Once she settled in, she looked at Abigail. “I worry about Eliza because she has to live with herself. She knows she hurt everyone.” Gramma brushed her hand in front of her. “I know she acts tough as an old cowhide, but she’s not. Inside, she’s still a little girl who wants her father’s approval, that she does.”

  Abigail thought a moment. She hadn’t considered that side of Eliza. Truth be known, Abigail didn’t want to consider it. She wanted to be angry with Eliza for hurting her family. Yet Abigail knew Gramma was right.

  “Do you think Uncle Edward and Aunt Elizabeth are able to take her back?” Abigail asked, smoothing a curl with her fingers.

  A pained expression shadowed Gramma’s face. “I don’t know. Edward can be quite harsh at times.”

  “What about Aunt Elizabeth? Wouldn’t she help her own daughter?”

  Gramma offered a weak smile. “Elizabeth is a dear woman, but I’m afraid she’s as spoiled as Edward. I’m sorry to say they never should have had children. Eliza has been the one to suffer.”

  Remorse settled over Abigail. She had only considered her own pain, not Eliza’s. Abigail didn’t want to feel sorry for Eliza. Yet what if the tables had been turned and Abigail was the one who grew up with Uncle Edward and Aunt Elizabeth? Would she have turned out like Eliza? Here she had thought she never wanted to see Eliza again, and now she wondered if she shouldn’t contact her once things settled down. If they ever did.

  “I’ve been harsh in my thoughts about Eliza,” Abigail admitted. “She hurt me, and she hurt my family.”

  Gramma nodded. “Aye, that she did. And it’s natural ye would feel hurt.”

  Before Abigail could comment further, someone knocked at the front door. “I’ll get it,” Abigail said as she rose and walked over to the door. As she opened the door, she looked at the visitor and gasped.

  “May I come in?” asked their guest in a weak voice. Abigail stepped aside.

  In walked Eliza O’Connor.

  Abigail could hardly keep herself from gaping at Eliza as she moved into the room. “Gramma, am I welcome to come in?”

  The small voice surprised Abigail. She had never seen Eliza so vulnerable.

  “Of course, dear,” Gramma said, motioning to a chair in which Eliza could sit.

  Eliza pulled off her outer wraps and sat down. She kept her head bowed. “I couldn’t do this.” She pulled her hands to her face and started sobbing. Her body heaved with the weight of her burden. Abigail stood silently nearby, not knowing what to do. Gramma went over to Eliza.

  After a lengthy time of tears, she finally calmed herself. “I had time to think before the train arrived. I was angry with my father and mother for making me leave. They blamed it on finances, but truth be known, they don’t want a spinster daughter holding them back. You see, I received word from a friend that my parents went to Europe. They shipped me off to your family to get rid of me.”

  Eliza’s fingers nervously toyed with the handkerchief in her hands. “I resented your family for taking me.” She looked at Abigail. “Though it was a kindness, I refused to see it that way.” She looked away and hiccupped, attempting to
hold back more tears. “But when I thought of leaving, all I could think about was Uncle Thomas and Aunt Lavina and …” Once more Eliza looked up at Abigail. “And you.” She shook her head and wiped her nose on the handkerchief. Her gaze was fixed on her lap. “I was jealous of you, just like my father has always been jealous of Uncle Thomas. I’ve allowed my father’s words to poison my thoughts. Your family did not deserve what I did.” She lifted tear-filled eyes to Abigail. “Will you ever forgive me?”

  A flood of compassion swept over Abigail, surprising her. Her heart filled with forgiveness. The Lord had once again intervened. She went to her cousin’s side. “Yes Eliza, I forgive you.” The two women hugged through their tears. When they parted, Gramma joined them with tears of joy.

  “Well, this calls for some tea,” Gramma announced, wiping away her tears. In no time at all, the three had prepared the tea and brought it with them into the living room. They settled comfortably into their chairs.

  “Since you missed your train yesterday, what did you do last night?” Abigail asked.

  After taking a drink of tea, Eliza carefully placed the cup on the saucer on a nearby stand. “I stayed in the hotel nearby to sort through things. I knew I could catch another train. I just couldn’t leave things the way they were.” She twisted her handkerchief in her hands. “I’ve behaved abominably; I know that.”

  “How did ye get the money for ye train trip, Eliza?” Gramma asked, stirring sugar into her tea.

  Eliza smiled. “I saved some money while living at home. I took it with me, not knowing what the future would hold for me with my father practically throwing me out of the house.”

  They sat silent for a moment.

  “I don’t know what you will think of this idea, Abigail, but I have enough money that I think we could go together to Nantucket and fetch Aunt Lavina.”

  Abigail’s eyebrows rose. “Really?”

  Eliza nodded enthusiastically.

  “I have a little money of my own I could contribute.” Abigail turned to Gramma. “Do you think she would come?”

  Gramma thought a moment. “I don’t know. I’d hate for ye to get all the way out there and her not come.”

  “We’ve got to try, Gramma,” Abigail said.

  “I think ye would be best to wait at least a week or two. Give her time to think. Take time to pray about the matter. Then the two of ye do what ye think ye must,” Gramma said.

  They all decided that’s just what they would do.

  Friday night, Titus shuffled across the porch of their home and stumbled into the house. Exhausted from searching for employment but finding none, he fought hard against the despair threatening to overtake him.

  “Titus,” Ma said as he entered. The kitchen chair scuffed hard against the wooden floor as she grabbed it and pulled it over to him. “Are you all right?” She lifted his hat from his head, smoothed some hair from his forehead, and looked into his eyes. “You’re pushing too hard, Titus. Have you eaten today?” Before he could answer, she continued, “Day after day you don’t eat. You must eat, son. You need your strength.”

  Titus looked up at her. He knew she was right, but he had no appetite. How could he eat when the woman he loved would have nothing to do with him? Worry lines etched Ma’s eyes. He grabbed her hand. “I’m all right, Ma.”

  She would not be dissuaded. “You didn’t answer me. Have you eaten today?”

  He smiled. “You’re too smart for me.”

  “Oh Titus.” She dropped his hand, picked up a plate, and began to pile on the evening’s meal for him. Once his plate was full of chicken, potatoes, and a biscuit, she put it in front of him. She poured hot coffee into a cup and set it down, along with a glass of water.

  “Thanks, Ma.” He bowed his head in prayer.

  The chair groaned as she sat down across from him. “You will find work, Titus. The Lord will provide,” she said after he finished his prayer.

  He nodded then took a bite of potatoes. She looked at him as if she wanted to say something then hesitated. “What is it, Ma?”

  “You’ve heard nothing from the O’Connors?”

  He shook his head. “They never want to see me again.”

  “They just need time, Titus.” Her eyes searched his face.

  “No Ma, I haven’t heard from Abigail. She wants nothing to do with me.” He knew Ma couldn’t understand the depths of Abigail’s pain. Pain he had caused.

  “You must see her again.”

  He didn’t look up. “Not likely. She’s pretty much finished her work with Jenny. She doesn’t need to come around anymore.”

  “You must.”

  “And why is that?” He glanced up at her. She sat smiling, holding one of the books she used with Jenny.

  “Because you have to return this to her.”

  Titus looked at his ma and shook his head. A tiny smile slowly lifted the corners of his mouth.

  Titus blew out a sigh. He could hardly believe four weeks had passed. Sophia had told him Abigail was out of town but hadn’t offered any other information. The construction work he had obtained kept him busy but not too busy to think of Abigail. He didn’t know if she had returned, but he had to find out. Reaching his hand out on the seat beside him, he patted Abigail’s book.

  As Titus neared the O’Connors’ home, he looked at the neighboring lawns. Fresh buds poked through forgotten stems stretching toward the warmth of the sun. Still, winter’s chill persisted.

  A thread of cold ran through him, though he didn’t know if it was the cool air or thoughts of Abigail that made him shiver. How could things go so wrong in such a short time? His scheming fell away, and for that he was thankful. But his plans with Abigail, well, they would never be. He had to let them go. The book on the seat beside him was his only hope. If he didn’t see her now, he wouldn’t have another excuse to drop by her house. Maybe she would refuse to see him, anyway. Her father might order Titus off their property. He hadn’t thought of that. The closer he got to their homestead, the more he regretted his decision to come. His mind told him to turn around, to get home as fast as he could. His heart told him to keep going.

  His heart won out.

  When he reached their home, he took a deep breath, grabbed the book, and jumped out of the wagon. He looked around the place. Everything was quiet. He glanced at the barn and could see Mr. O’Connor was home. Most likely, Abigail would be with him if she was back in town. He glanced at his pocket watch. They would have eaten half an hour ago.

  Walking to the steps, he took off his hat, prayed quickly for strength and the right words, then knocked on the door. He was unprepared for what he saw when it opened.

  Before him stood Thomas O’Connor, who only a few weeks before had reminded him of a mighty oak tree, tall, sturdy, rugged. Today he looked old, tired, and spent. “Yes Titus, what can I do for you?”

  Titus held the book in his hand. He looked at it then back to Mr. O’Connor. “I wanted to return this to Abigail.”

  Mr. O’Connor reached for the book.

  “Is she home, sir?”

  Mr. O’Connor shook his head. “I’m afraid not. She and Eliza got it in their heads to go after Lavina on their own. I was on a business trip. When I returned, I found a note telling me where they had gone.”

  “Eliza?”

  Mr. O’Connor scratched his head. “Yeah, that surprised me, too. Don’t know what that’s about.” He looked at Titus for a moment. “Why don’t you come in?”

  “Well …” Titus hesitated.

  “Come on. I could use the company.”

  “All right,” Titus found himself saying. He stepped into the house. Barnabas’s tail wagged furiously, as if remembering Titus as an old friend. Titus reached down and patted the dog on the head. Mr. O’Connor saw him.

  “I’m afraid he misses Abigail,” he said.

  The hall clock ticked off the minutes. Titus thought it strange he had never noticed that clock before, but then it had never been as quiet in the house. Mr.
O’Connor led the way to the drawing room.

  “Can I get you something to drink—coffee, tea?”

  “No thank you,” Titus said as they sat down across from the crackling fire in the hearth. He watched Barnabas circle a couple of times and finally lay at Mr. O’Connor’s feet. No doubt the two of them had become fast friends in the lonely house.

  A knot swelled in Titus’s throat, making it hard for him to swallow. He prayed again for strength. He wanted to get some things out of the way before Mr. O’Connor said anything. “Eliza was right,” he said, practically rubbing a hole through his hat. He looked up at Mr. O’Connor, who was staring at him intently.

  “Go on.”

  “I originally came here to get even. I held you responsible for my pa’s financial problems and ultimately his death.” There. He’d said what had been festering inside him for all these months.

  “I know,” Mr. O’Connor said in a slight whisper.

  Titus was puzzled. “You did? How?”

  “It was all over your face when I saw you at the mercantile that day. When I asked you to be our chauffeur, I could almost see you forming a plan.”

  Titus hung his head.

  “That’s the reason I asked you to come to work for me. I had prayed the Lord would give me some way to help you and your family.”

  “Even though you knew I wanted to hurt you?”

  “I had hurt you.”

  “But you didn’t do it intentionally.”

  “No, but you thought I did.” Mr. O’Connor shifted in his chair. “I know you had changed your mind before Eliza shared her bit of news. So what changed it?”

  Mr. O’Connor listened intently while Titus explained about reading the letter in his box in the sitting room. When Titus finished, Mr. O’Connor heaved a sigh. “To tell you the truth, I’m glad this whole thing happened, though I don’t know where it will lead. I’ve lived with this all these years, and I wanted to tell my wife.” He rubbed his jaw and stared into the fireplace. “I thought I was protecting her.”