An Inconvenient Match (32 page)

Three days passed, one rainy, bleak day after another. Abigail filled those days scrubbing the woodwork and walls, washing the windows, preparing family meals. Each night she fell into bed limp with exhaustion, but inside she was frozen hard. A person she didn’t like but didn’t know how to change.

That afternoon Wade had come to the house, wanting to talk. She’d refused, asking her mother to pass along the message. Ma had shot her a penetrating look, but complied.

Why had Abigail believed, even for a moment, that she and Wade could find happiness? They came from different worlds. The Cummingses’ wealth enabled him to live in a cocoon. He didn’t understand the average person’s struggles. Didn’t grasp the hardship, the pain he’d brought her family.

Now crowded around the table in a sparkling kitchen for a supper of beans and corn bread, Joe thanked God for the meal and for their blessings. Blessings in short supply.

Aghast at her lack of gratitude, Abigail begged God for forgiveness. They were healthy. They had food on the table and clothes on their backs. All blessings she appreciated. She just couldn’t seem to overcome this crushing sense of sadness.

As she picked at her food, across from her Joe and Lois ate with abandon, gazing into one another’s eyes, laughing and talking like newlyweds. Her nephews imitated their parents’ good mood, giggling and chattering like magpies. The little guys didn’t comprehend they’d lost their home. But how could Lois and Joe be this carefree?

Once they finished eating Joe gave his sons permission to leave the table. They scampered off like frolicking puppies.

Joe turned to Abigail, then Ma. “Lois and I’ve been saving our news until we could talk in peace. The Johnsons bought our house this afternoon, a wedding present for their daughter and her future husband.”

“Stay here as long as you need,” Ma said.

A sick feeling in her stomach, Abigail stared at her hands knotted in her lap. She’d prayed and prayed for God to step in and save their house. Now the house was sold. Gone. Too late for a miracle.

“The Johnsons gave us our asking price. Joe and I paid off the loan at the bank this afternoon,” Lois said, then looked at Abigail. “Wade asked about you.”

Abigail dug her nails into her palms. Why couldn’t she be indifferent to him?

“The best part—Joe took the remaining money and paid off his gambling debts,” Lois said. “Thank You, God, for freeing us from that burden.”

“That’s mighty good news.” Ma glanced at Abigail, arching a brow, obviously wanting her to congratulate them.

But no words would come.

“The door to that ugliness is closed.” Tears flooded Joe’s eyes. “I can hold my head up in this town.”

Lois handed Billy to Joe. “Your son is proud of his papa.”

As Joe took the baby in his arms, Billy burped, loud. “Your pa is proud of his son,” Joe said.

Ma and Lois chuckled.

“I rented a rig and drove out to the Harper farm. Got some work lined up. In a few weeks, I’ll earn enough to rent a place of our own.” He bent and kissed Billy’s forehead. “I’m blessed with a wonderful wife and five healthy sons. What more could a man want?” He looked from Ma to Abigail and sobered. “I can never thank you enough for taking us in.”

“We’re family. You’d do the same for us,” Ma said.

“I would. I’ll always be there for you and Ab.” A screech brought Joe to his feet. “I’d better check on those little wild men before they tear up the place.” He carried Billy into the parlor. “Quit bouncing on that sofa, Donald William.”

The women rose to clean up from the meal. “Ab, you’ve done nothing but work around here. I’ll help Ma with the dishes.”

“Thanks, I think I’ll take a walk.”

“In this weather?” Ma said, glancing out the window.

Lois grinned. “A little rain would probably seem downright peaceful after listening to my rowdy boys.”

The idea of being alone to think things through had Abigail grabbing her umbrella. Outside she set off down the alley to Main. As she ambled through town she passed the freshly painted row of houses. Crisp curtains hung at the windows. Petunias bloomed in window boxes. Barefooted children splashed in mud puddles.

Except for one house.

Her nephews had no yard. No bedroom of their own. No friends nearby.

Unable to abide the reminder, Abigail turned away from the sold sign in the window of what should’ve been Joe and Lois’s house and moved on.

At the corner of Main and First Street, New Harmony First Christian beckoned. She’d attended the church all her life. Here she’d find a quiet place to think and pray.

She entered the sanctuary, closing the heavy door, muffling the sound of thunder rumbling in the distance, as if God wouldn’t permit distraction in His house of worship. She sagged onto a pew in the last row.

Why had Lois been composed at losing their house, while Abigail couldn’t accept the loss, couldn’t see the good that had come from it? She carried an anger and emptiness that scared her. Was she becoming her father?

God felt far away. Did He hear her prayers?

She bowed her head.

“Miss Abigail.”

Her eyes flew open. “Cecil. I didn’t see you.”

“Reckon you wouldn’t.” Without an invitation he sat down beside her with a soft groan. “I was up front and on my knees thanking God for a problem.”

Had she heard him right? “You’ve what?”

“My rheumatism is acting up again. I call it rheumatisn’t. ’Cause it isn’t gonna get me down.”

She glanced at his gnarled hands, folded gingerly in his lap. “You thanked God for your pain?”

“Don’t come natural to thank God for my troubles, but I’m learning He’ll give me a big ole blessing if I do.”

“You still have your rheumatism.”

“Rheumatisn’t,” he corrected, then rubbed the pad of a thumb over the base of the other. “God don’t promise to take my thorn away, no more than He done for the Apostle Paul. But God sees me through. Stopping in here on days when the pain kicks up, like here lately with all this rain, keeps my eyes on Him and off the hurt.” He smiled. “Reckon iffen every day was sunny and free of pain, I ’spect I’d think I didn’t need Him.”

Cecil’s faith in God’s provision brought tears to her eyes. Her faith wasn’t strong like his.

He studied her with his tender gaze. “Iffen you got troubles, Miss Abigail, you’re in the right place. Thank the Good Lord for ’em. Then let Him work ’em out as He sees fit. You and me, we’re His sheep.” He chuckled. “Ain’t the smartest critters, but sheep know the Shepherd’s voice and trust He’ll lead ’em to safe pastures.” He patted her hand. “Reckon they ain’t so dumb after all.”

Lord, did You bring me here for just this moment?

“Thank you, Cecil, for saying what I need to hear.”

“Is that so?” A smile lit his kind face. “Well, better mosey on. Let you chat with the Almighty.” He lumbered to his feet, a slight groan on his lips.

“I’ll be praying for your rheumatisn’t.”

“’Preciate it.” He steadied himself with a hand on the pew. “I’m sorry Joe and Lois had to sell that house. I’m praying for ’em. Reckon you could use prayer too.”

Cecil shuffled out the door, leaving her alone for that chat with God.

As long as Abigail could remember, she’d prayed. Read Scripture. Yet she’d fretted over bills. Over Joe and Rafe’s compulsions, Joe’s gambling debts, Seth’s future. The list was endless. Why hadn’t she seen that trying to save the day for everybody wasn’t in her power? Or even in God’s will.

“Lord, You are in control of this world. Forgive me for trying to rip control out of Your capable, powerful hands.”

Her faith was shaky. Why?

The answer—she’d wanted a rosy world, a world without trouble, pain or sorrow.

“Lord, I’ve been afraid You would give me more than I could bear. Yet Cecil accepts life as it comes, handling his troubles and pain by keeping his eyes fixed on You.”

If she didn’t trust God, what did she have?

A miserable existence. Fear, worry.

The words of the Twenty-third Psalm filled her mind. Her heart. Sheep follow their Shepherd. God didn’t promise a life without troubles. He promised He’d walk through the Valley with His children. He’d never forsake her, any more than she could forsake her family.

“Forgive me, Father, for not trusting You.” She slid off the pew onto her knees, weeping tears she’d bottled up for years.

When she raised her eyes, a beam of sunlight had broken through the clouds, coming through the stained-glass window behind the altar, shooting prisms of color through the sanctuary. She felt cleansed. A blessed peace enveloped her. The love of God. God loved her even when she was most unlovable. He didn’t love according to what she deserved. He loved according to who He was.

He loved her, loved her family.

He loved Wade. George.

All mankind.

If only she could love like God did. Yet how could she forget the hurt Wade had caused? How could she trust him when he’d tossed her away years before?

She rose and left the church. The rain was a mere shower now. As she popped up her umbrella, a smile sprang to her lips. Across the way a rainbow hugged the heavens, the sign of God’s promise to never flood the earth again.

As if God had planted the thought, she knew what to do.

She’d give Wade a chance to explain why he’d declared his affection one moment and walked away the next. Would his explanation enable her to forgive how he’d hurt her?

Or drive them apart forever?

Chapter Nineteen

E
ven getting soaked to the skin, a ride into the country had restored Wade’s flagging hope.
Lord, if it’s in Your will and what’s best for Abby, have her come to me.

Filled with peace he couldn’t explain but knew came from God, he rubbed down Rowdy and watered both horses, then turned them out to graze.

He scrubbed debris off the bit then tackled the bridle and saddle. Once they were clean and dry he rubbed heated oil into the leather. Dry rot could break a cinch, sending a man to the ground. Or sever the reins, losing a man’s control of the animal.

The oil penetrated the thirsty cinch. Once he’d wished for an ointment to make him soft and pliable like this leather. He’d taken a while to learn the balm he sought could only be found in God’s Word and in the power of prayer.

As his thoughts drifted with the repetitive action, he released the shop—his dream—to God. Whatever happened, he trusted Him with the outcome.

Tonight he’d get his father’s answer. If George accepted Wade’s offer, they’d return the farm to the Wilsons. And restore the Cummingses’ tarnished good name. Only then could they truly move beyond the ugliness of the feud. And find harmony, even if that harmony came at the cost of his dream.

He’d still instruct Seth, pay him too. Perhaps one day he’d help Seth open a shop of his own.

Not that Wade would quit crafting furniture. Transforming wood into objects of function and beauty was as much a part of him, as vital as the air he breathed. Yet the prospect of spending his life behind a desk didn’t distress him as he’d expected.

The difference—
he’d
made the choice, not had his path mandated. He’d made the decision out of love for Abby. Out of fairness to the Wilsons. Out of obedience to God.

Maybe if the farm was restored to the Wilsons, his future could include Abby. He’d fought his feelings for her, afraid of traveling the same road his parents had, but no longer. He loved Abby, completely, totally, with every particle of his being. He’d fallen for her years ago at a high school picnic. Back then too much stood in the way. Now, he’d ensure nothing did.

His father’s mistakes had taught him the importance of establishing priorities. He’d never put anything ahead of God, ahead of Abby, if she’d allow him in her heart. Yet he wouldn’t push. She’d have to want him as much as he wanted her.

A cricket chirped from somewhere in the straw. An owl hooted from his perch in a nearby tree. All was tranquil. Yet a sudden death grip on the rag in his hand shot tension into his neck and shoulders. What if everything he’d done to prove his love to Abby wasn’t enough? What if—?

He gulped a calming breath and reminded himself the outcome was out of his hands and in God’s. God had a plan for Wade’s life. For Abby’s too. A plan that would be best for them both. If he wasn’t what Abby needed, he’d be man enough to let her go. Or so he hoped.

He felt her presence before he saw her.

Abby.

Silhouetted against the overcast nighttime sky, she waited in the open doorway, as if asking permission to enter.

His pulse hammered in his temples. God had answered his prayer.

Heart in his throat, he walked toward her, meeting her halfway, thanking God she had come.

“I’m sorry I had to call your sister’s loan. I—”

She brushed her fingertips over his lips, stopping the apology. “I’m the one who’s sorry. I blamed you for an action you had to take. The shock of Joe and Lois losing that house hurt.” She gave a sad smile. “More me than them.”