A Love All Her Own

by Janet Lee Barton

  The days were still warm, but the leaves were beginning to change on the hardwoods on the mountain across from her hotel. She still had no desire to return home, and she’d begun to think she might want to stay in Hot Springs permanently.

  On the weekdays when Abigail went with Mrs. Wellington to her meeting at church, Mr. Wellington picked her up at the hotel, and then she somehow ended up going back to their home for the afternoon and evening. Marcus would join them for dinner and take her back to the hotel. It had become something she really looked forward to. . .more and more each week.

  Over the last few weeks, she’d been studying her Bible in ways she couldn’t remember doing back home, and this Sunday, she listened closely to the sermon John Martin preached. His subject was based on Philippians 3:13, on what Paul had said about “forgetting those things which are behind, and reaching forth unto those things which are before.”

  “Brethren, we must not dwell on our past mistakes but on what we are doing now and in the future. We must forgive ourselves as we have asked God to do and as He has done. We are His children, and each day, we must give ourselves over to doing God’s will and not our own.”

  As he finished his sermon and they stood to sing the invitational hymn, Abigail felt as if the minister had spoken just to her and decided she wanted to think about this sermon and read her Bible more.

  The final prayer was said, and she followed Marcus out into the aisle.

  “Wasn’t that a wonderful lesson?” his mother asked from just behind Abigail. “I think one of the hardest things for us to do is to learn to forgive ourselves. John gave me much to think about.”

  Abigail couldn’t imagine that Mrs. Wellington had that problem, for she couldn’t envision that the woman had ever sinned. Yet she knew that as humans, everyone did. Still, compared to all she’d done. . .yet. . .

  “You look very nice today,” Marcus said, as he led her out to his buggy for the trip to his mother’s.

  “Thank you.” Abigail could feel her cheeks heat up and wondered what it was about this man that could do that to her. She wasn’t one to blush, but for some reason, she felt like a young schoolgirl when Marcus complimented her. She wanted to tell him how handsome he looked in his black suit, and she’d never found it hard to compliment a man until now. In fact, she’d found it quite easy. Had that been because she hadn’t really meant it?

  At the Wellington home, it felt quite natural to help Mrs. Wellington get Sunday dinner on the table. Like Abigail’s mother, Mrs. Wellington tried to let her housekeeper take off on Sundays. Abigail was just now realizing that it was something she should have been doing with her own housekeeper all along.

  She sighed. One more thing to feel guilty about. Then she remembered the sermon she’d just heard and had hope that she could put all of that behind her. For the first time, she truly believed that perhaps she could be forgiven her past mistakes—if she could become a different person than the one she’d been these last few years. It was something she needed to think more on—and she would as soon as she got back to the hotel.

  ❧

  Marcus watched Abigail from across his parents’ dining table. She was laughing at something his father had said, and she’d never looked prettier to him. He couldn’t put his finger on when it began to happen, but each time he was with Abigail, she seemed to be changing in small ways that were hard to discern. She seemed. . .somewhat softer—less brittle? It was as if that hard edge she’d seemed to have the day he met her was fading away, and she didn’t seem so much on guard. Much as he would like to think that it was because she felt safe and secure knowing he and his men were watching over her, he had a feeling there was much more to it than that. Besides, she still seemed a bit wary around him at times. And sometimes she still looked so vulnerable he wanted to take her in his arms and tell her that he’d never let anything happen to her.

  As if I can control those kinds of things. All I can do is see that she is protected to the best of my ability, but if her heart is still broken, there is nothing I can do about that.

  The thought took him back a bit. Her broken engagement was none of his business; he knew that. Neither was her broken heart. Yet he wished he could do something—anything—to mend it so that she might look at him as someone besides the man her father had hired to watch over her.

  “Marcus?” His mother broke into his thoughts, and he found that everyone was watching him. It appeared he’d missed some of the conversation while he was woolgathering.

  “Yes, Mother?”

  She paused with her fingers on her temple. “Well, I was going to ask you something, but as long as it took to get your attention, it appears I’ve forgotten what it was.”

  “I’m sorry, Mother.” He couldn’t help but chuckle along with her, though, when she laughed and shook her head.

  “You looked as if you were miles away from here.”

  Marcus shook his head. “No. My thoughts were right here.” On Abigail—where they seemed to stay these days.

  ❧

  Once Abigail was back in her room at the hotel, her thoughts on the minister’s sermon fought to be heard. She barely tasted her tea for all the realizations that filled her mind. Before she could forgive herself for the past and go on, she had to make sure she’d asked God for His forgiveness.

  And how far back did she need to go to know she had? The Lord knew she wasn’t to blame for Rose’s death. But she’d had that moment of hope that because of her sister’s death, Nate might learn to love her. Abigail could no longer deny that she had coveted her sister’s husband. A moan from deep inside escaped, and Abigail slid to her knees. “Oh, please, dear Lord, forgive me for wanting Nate for myself,” she whispered. “And please forgive me for being so envious of Rose for all those years.”

  Abigail began to cry as she prayed. “Please. . .dear Lord. . .please forgive me. . .for drawing away from You.” She wiped at the tears streaming down her face. “I didn’t want to admit what You’ve known all along. I have been an awful person, Father. I tried to make Nate feel guilty so that he would marry me—and I almost succeeded. And now. . .I don’t know if I ever really loved him or if I just wanted what was Rose’s.”

  Tears flowed freely as she continued. “And if I hadn’t been so hateful to Natalie that day, she wouldn’t have fallen down the stairs. Thank You for letting her be all right now.” Her sobs came from deep within her. “I’m so ashamed, Father. Please forgive me and help me to become the child You would have me be. I don’t want to be the same Abigail who left Eureka Springs ever again. I don’t want to be that selfish or self-absorbed. Please help me. And please, please let Natalie and Nate and everyone I’ve hurt forgive me. All of this, I ask in Jesus’ name. Amen.”

  Abigail stayed there, her head on the settee, until her tears were spent. She felt a peace settle inside her that she hadn’t felt in years, and she knew the Lord had forgiven her.

  ❧

  Marcus looked through his mail, and his attention fell immediately on the envelope from Eureka Springs. It was thick, telling him that his agent had found out more about Abigail. For a moment, he wondered if he should have gone this route. After all, just because he could find out almost anything about anyone didn’t mean he always should, he supposed.

  Abigail had become more than just the daughter of Jacob Connors to him. She was more than a family friend and certainly much more than his other clients. Marcus opened the envelope and pulled out the thick missive. He quickly scanned the pages and then read again, more slowly this time.

  The Abigail Connors of Eureka Springs bore little semblance to the Abigail he’d come to know. He shook his head as he read. Apparently Abigail had, for the most part, lived a very selfish life in the last few years. She’d been mostly concerned with having a good time with her friends and convincing Nate Brooks to marry her. She’d nearly succeeded; but then her niece had an accident, and shortly afterward, her engagement was broken. Nate had recently wed another woman, a Meagan Snow. Hmm, t
hat still doesn’t tell me who broke the engagement.

  Marcus got up from his desk and went to look out the window. From the sadness in Abigail’s eyes when he first met her and the fact that her fiancé had married another woman, he had a feeling that Abigail hadn’t wanted the engagement to end. But he had no real way of knowing. She’d changed some from when he first saw her, so it stood to reason that she wasn’t the same person she’d been at one time. At least he hadn’t seen any evidence of her being the kind of person this letter described her as being.

  He picked it up and read it again. It seemed that before her sister died she hadn’t been quite so concerned with her social life. It appeared there’d been a time when she hadn’t been quite so self-absorbed. Perhaps the death of her sister. . .

  He shook his head and dropped the letter on the desk. None of it really mattered. . .not now. The Abigail he’d come to care about didn’t seem anything like the one his agent was describing now or in the last letter. And he had no way of knowing what was truth and what wasn’t. All he could really go by was now. And be thankful that the Abigail he’d come to know was nothing like the old one. At least—he prayed not.

  ❧

  Abigail felt like a new person. After confessing her sins to the Lord and asking for His forgiveness, she felt almost the same as she had the day she’d been baptized: brand-new and ready to begin a new life. She just had more of her own sins to try to forget and put into the past than she had back then. She knew the Lord had forgiven her. But she was finding it harder to forgive herself.

  She’d written letters to both Nate and Meagan, asking for their forgiveness for trying to come between them when she knew they cared for each other. Abigail shivered just thinking back on all the ways she’d hurt them in her quest to get Nate to marry her. She couldn’t blame them if they never forgave her. The letter she wrote to Natalie was even harder. She loved the child so much and had loved her since the day she was born.

  Dear Sweet Natalie,

  How do I tell you how much I love you and how sorry I am that I caused your fall by raising my voice and hurting your feelings? I understand why you ran out of the room that day, and I will blame myself forever for your fall. I pray that you have healed completely by now.

  I do know that you think I caused your mama’s fall that day of the fire, and I can see how you might. But nothing could be further from the truth. I can only tell you that my intention was only to get her to not go back upstairs when I grabbed her arm. I know it may be hard for you to believe that after the fall you had, but oh, my sweet, it is true. I only wanted her to come with us to safety. The Lord knows that is true.

  I love you and miss you with all my heart, dear Natalie. I pray that someday you will forgive me for causing your fall and love me once more. I will always love you.

  Love,

  Aunt Abby

  Abigail felt better once she’d handed the letters to the desk clerk the next morning, but she didn’t hold out a lot of hope that she’d be forgiven. She’d been so awful to everyone. And she was having a hard enough time forgiving herself—how could they do it?

  She read Philippians 3:13 repeatedly each night, and she was trying to put her past behind her—but Satan always reminded her of her sins in one way or another.

  Still, she was faithful to take her worries to the Lord, and she was happier than she’d been in years. She wondered if it showed when Marcus arrived to take her to the Wednesday ladies’ meeting at church. His father had a meeting, so Marcus picked her up and then they went to pick up his mother.

  He kept glancing over at her until she finally asked, “What’s wrong? Do I have a smudge on my face?”

  His dimple flashed in a grin, and he shook his head. “No. You just look very pretty today. Not that you don’t look nice all the time. You do. You just look. . .happy.”

  So, he did notice. And he thought she looked pretty. She could feel the color steal up her cheeks at his compliment. “I am happy. Papa is pleased with the reports that I’ve sent him on the bathhouses, and I feel I can relax and enjoy my stay now. I really like going to these meetings with your mother.”

  “She enjoys them, too. She says you are all making progress on finding ways to house those who need the help.”

  Abigail nodded. “Well, I’m not doing much, but these ladies are very determined to help those who’ve been sent here for treatment by their doctors but can’t afford the bathhouses or the hotels. Several of the churches have members who have an extra room and have volunteered to take in boarders for free. Others are talking to the town leaders about what the town can do.”

  “There is a need. No doubt about that. Perhaps they should talk to the park superintendent.”

  Abigail nodded. “I think that would be a good idea, too. We can mention it to your mother.”

  His mother was waiting for them when they got to his parents’ home, and once Marcus stopped the buggy, Abigail moved to get down so that Mrs. Wellington could sit on the front seat beside her son.

  “Don’t you move, Abigail,” Mrs. Wellington said. “There’s no need for all that getting down and getting back up into the back and getting settled. You stay right where you are.”

  “But I don’t mind—”

  “I know you don’t, dear.” She was at the buggy, and Marcus was helping her into the backseat. “But I do.”

  Marcus looked at Abigail and smiled. “Stay put. She can be real stubborn when she wants to be.”

  His mother chuckled. “Yes, I can be. I’ve found I’ve had to be a time or two in my life from living with you and your father.”

  Marcus took his seat beside Abigail and grinned. “Now she’s saying that Papa and I are hard to live with.”

  “I did not say that, Marcus Wellington!”

  They bickered back and forth all the way to church, but Abigail knew them well enough to know it was all done in fun and with love. She relaxed and let them entertain her all the way there.

  ❧

  That evening, Abigail and Mrs. Wellington caught up Marcus and his father on the ideas the ladies were working on.

  “We now have fifty families willing to house people who are in need,” Mrs. Wellington said. “I’ve put our name on the list, too, Martin.”

  “I figured you would, dear,” Mr. Wellington said.

  “Well, since Marcus moved out and we can’t convince Abigail to come stay with us, I wouldn’t feel right if I hadn’t.”

  Marcus laughed and turned to Abigail. “I knew she’d use us as an excuse. But don’t you let it bother you any.”

  “No dear, don’t. You both are saving me a ton of money this way,” Mr. Wellington assured Abigail. “Lydia would be having me add a room to the house if she didn’t have one or two free ones, wouldn’t you, dear?”

  Abigail had a feeling he was right, and she was even more assured when his wife agreed with him.

  “Yes, I probably would have. Still, this won’t be the answer forever. We have also decided to form a committee to go to the town leaders and also the reservation superintendent, as Abigail told me you suggested, Marcus. Surely, either the city or the United States government can help come up with a permanent solution.”

  “Yes, I agree they should. But these things take time, dear.”

  “I guess it’s a good thing we are trying to begin the process, then,” Mrs. Wellington said.

  Mr. Wellington nodded in her direction. “It is, my dear. I am certain that you ladies will make these leaders sit up and take notice that something needs to be done.”

  ❧

  By the end of the evening, Marcus was convinced that the Abigail he’d come to care a great deal about was not the same Abigail whom his agent had reported on. Oh, she might be the same person physically, but otherwise, she was nothing like the woman described in the letters he’d received.

  He’d just received a letter that day from her father, wondering if she seemed lonely and how she was doing and if she was adjusting to life in Hot Springs. Ma
rcus felt he could honestly report that she seemed to be doing quite well. Over the last few weeks, he’d accompanied her to several dinners she’d been invited to, she’d insisted that she could go shopping with some of the lady friends she’d made, and he had let his agents make sure they were safe. He didn’t want her to feel smothered. But as he came to care more for her, her safety was as important to him as it was to her father.

  “Thank you for attending these meetings with Mother. It seems to mean a lot to her to have you with her.”

  “Oh, she’d do fine by herself. She feels quite strongly about doing something to help the sick who come here to get better. I’m sure my mother would do the same. Since I’m not a permanent resident, I don’t feel I have much to say, but I’m glad to go and give your mother any support I can.”

  Her words had Marcus’s heart beating hard against his chest. He didn’t like the idea of her leaving. Was she planning on going back home soon? He couldn’t bring himself to ask outright. “Have you given any thought to making Hot Springs your home?” Only as he waited for her answer did he realize how much it meant to him.

  She leaned her head to one side and looked at him. “Not really. But I’m not in any hurry to leave.” She shrugged. “I do like it here a lot. Maybe it is something I should give some thought to.”

  Marcus allowed himself to relax. She wasn’t going anywhere for now. He had some time. . .to what? Convince himself that he didn’t care about her—or convince her to stay?

  Eight

  As Abigail got ready to meet Mrs. Wellington for lunch on Friday, she was looking forward to spending time with the woman she’d come to think of as family. While she did miss her parents and Natalie, she had no desire to go back to Eureka Springs. She’d started a new life here, and she was beginning to like herself again. She had a feeling that if she returned to Eureka Springs, she’d revert to the old Abigail: selfish and self-absorbed. She couldn’t—wouldn’t—let that happen.

  She watched in the mirror as Bea put her hair up. “I still can’t do that half as well as you do, Bea.”